Into the Free (19 page)

The next morning, Mabel wakes me early. “There’s a boy insisting to see you,” she says. “He’s been coming every day. Diana didn’t think you were ready for visitors. Says he’s with the rodeo. Says he won’t be taking no for an answer.”

“Crooked smile? Brown hair? Skinny?” I ask.

“Skinniest guy I ever did see,” Mabel laughs. “Says his name’s Kenneth Anderson.”

I haven’t heard that name, but I’m certain she’s talking about Bump.

“I told him to come back in an hour. I’ll help you dress,” Mabel says, reaching over my dresser and noticing the open box of secrets. She spies the shiny ring. “You getting married?” she asks.

I laugh. “No, ma’am.” I debate on whether to tell Mabel about the box, the ring, Bill Miller. If anyone can fill in the blanks, it’s Mabel.

“It’s a pretty ring,” she says.

“I saw my mother bury this box in the woods,” I start. “I was just a little girl.”

Mabel takes a seat. Nods, ready to listen.

“I always wondered what was in it. I knew I shouldn’t do it, but I dug it up that day. Of course, it was locked, and I couldn’t open it, so I put it back where I found it and tried to leave it be. Figured it wasn’t mine to take.”

Mabel nods again. Agreeing.

“But last spring, out of the blue, an old gypsy woman gave me a key. Told me the only way to know my future was to know my past. I knew what I had to do. I found the box, and the key fit! I couldn’t believe it.”

“Leave it to the gypsies,” Mabel laughs.

“I didn’t know what any of these things had to do with me,” I say, leaning over to take the box. “It took me a long time to work up the nerve to ask Mama. She’d only just begun to tell me what it all means. We were supposed to talk more after the rodeo.”

“And you never had the chance,” Mabel adds.

“Right,” I say, voice full of regret. “So here I am, still trying to piece together the rest.”

“Um-hmm,” Mabel says, as if she already knows my whole story. I wait for her to take a turn, but she just sits patiently.

“Do you know my grandfather? The Reverend Paul Applewhite?”

“Um-hmm,” Mabel nods again, still holding it in.

I pry further, holding up the business card for the shoeshine stand and the Depot Street church. “Can you help me? Fill in the blanks?”

“Well, I can’t say all that much. He’s not quite right. In the head, you know? He’s known to handle snakes and speak in tongues. Do all kinds of hocus-pocus behind the pulpit. I don’t much respect a man with that kind of mind, but ain’t no shortage of folks who do. That’s for sure.”

“We’ve never gone to church,” I say. “Mama and Jack wanted no part of it.”

“Now don’t get me wrong, Millie. I ain’t saying there’s anything wrong with church. I go every Sunday. I’m just saying there’s something wrong when a man like Paul Applewhite is the one leading the church. Nobody’s perfect, we all know that, but he’s a rotten one, that Reverend.”

Then she stops, as if she’s said too much. “I’m sorry to say such a thing about your grandfather. I just don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want you.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” I say. “I don’t really know him.” I do know he told us that Mama had made her choice and then he left his daughter to die. Said it was in God’s hands. I don’t tell that part to Mabel.

I drop the card back into the box, and I hand Mabel the black-and-white family portrait of the freckled man, the dark-skinned woman, and two young sons. “This is Jack. My father,” I explain, pointing to one of the young boys. “I never knew he had a brother. I’ve never known anything about his family. Never met them.”

“That’s Jack, all right,” Mabel says. “And that’s his mother. Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“You knew Jack?” I ask. “How?”

“I knew his mother. From back before I moved to Iti Taloa. My people come from Willow Bend, about two hours from here. Used to be an old trading post there. A store really, by my time. The Choctaws ran it, and Jack’s mother used to help out there a lot. Her name was Oka. Means water.”

Oka. Water. I think of thirst, of rolling currents, and I miss River.

“Oka was very kind. A gentle spirit. But she married a monster. Cattleman named Boone. He wasn’t easy on the boys. Downright brutal to Oka. But no one expected it to go as far as it did.” She gets quiet for a minute. Then hands me a dress. Helps me pull it around my cast and brushes my hair back behind a headband. “You think that cowboy’s really coming back to see you?”

“Please finish, Mabel. Tell me. What happened?” I ask, not fully able to believe Mabel knows these secrets of my past and not quite sure how I’ve managed to land in this home where so many of my stories have been sitting here waiting for me to discover them.

“Jack was sixteen or so, if I remember it right. About your age. Whole town knew what happened, but he was so young, and everyone hated old Boone so much, the judge just turned a blind eye and let Jack slip away unmarked. Just warned him not ever to get caught and not ever to come back to town. He couldn’t risk folks thinking they could get away with that kind of thing.”

“What’d he do?” I repeat, still confused.

“He killed him, Millie. He killed old Boone. But only after Boone nearly killed Oka first. I never blamed Jack, really. No one did. But that didn’t stop Jack from blaming himself. He left Willow Bend and never looked back.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask. I press my temples and try to rub my headache away.

“I told you. Oka was my friend.” Then she opens the curtains and says, “Looks like we’ll have to finish this later.” She points to the porch. Seems Bump didn’t leave as directed. He is waiting on the back porch swing, patient as can be. “Now ain’t that something,” Mabel adds, rushing me through the bedroom door to meet the skinny cowboy.

“Sure glad to see you alive,” Bump says, handing me a bright-red batch of roses. “I cut off the thorns,” he adds, smiling.

I take the flowers. “Thanks. They’re beautiful. They’ll make my whole room smell good.” I’m surprised a man can care enough to cut off the thorns.

“Coffee?” Mabel takes the flowers from me and sighs when the fragrance hits her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Bump says, shifting his weight with a nervous vulnerability. “That’d be nice.”

“Y’all make yourselves comfortable and let me put these in some water.” With flowers in hand, she heads off in search of a vase.

Bump and I take a seat in the parlor. “First time they ever let me in.”

“I hear you’ve been coming every day,” I reply. “I had no idea. Mabel said Diana won’t let anybody bother me.”

“Yep,” he nods. “She’s real protective of you.” He fidgets with his hands. Twirls his thumbs.

“Did Mr. Anderson tell you the news?” Mabel comes back with coffee. Winks.

“That Diana won’t let him in?”

They both laugh and Bump says, “Mr. Tucker wants you to swing by as soon as you’re up to it. Needs a hand around the arena. He wants you to have first dibs at the job. If you want it, that is.”

If he could feel my heart, he would know my excitement. “Horses! I can work with horses?”

Bump laughs, “Of course. That’s exactly what we need you to do.”

My ears are ringing, my face is pink with thrills, and I can’t hold still. “I’ll come right now!”

“Hold your reins, cowgirl,” Mabel intervenes. “You haven’t been cleared by the doctor yet. Diana’s not going to let you take one step out of this house a second before he says you’re ready. Especially to go get yourself hurt again at the rodeo.”

“We could tell her we’re going to church,” I suggest, half hoping Mabel will agree.

“Ha,” she laughs sarcastically. And that’s the end of that.

“No hurry,” Bump says. “The spot is yours. Whenever you’re ready.”

CHAPTER 28

It takes a few weeks of arguing the pros and cons, but after substantial debate, Diana finally agrees to let me take a job at the rodeo arena. It’s given me something other than River to think about, and my nightmares about East have been replaced with dreams about horses. As soon I’m given clearance to leave the house, I announce I’m going to meet with Mr. Tucker. I can hardly wait another second.

“I’m not comfortable sending you over there alone,” Diana says, not offering to join me.

“I’ll go with her!” Camille shouts, eager as I am to touch a horse.

Diana wrinkles her brow, gives it a thought. “I’m just not sure two beautiful young girls need to be traipsing around a rodeo arena. Doesn’t seem reasonable to me.”

“It’ll be okay,” I assure Diana. “I’ll keep a close eye on Camille. I already know Bump. He’s no danger. And I at least need to pay Mr. Tucker a visit. Offer him my personal gratitude for all his help with the funeral.”

Diana waits an excruciatingly long time to respond. I work up all sorts of arguments in my head. Ready to tell her we won’t be the only girls there. That Janine runs the office. That working with horses is what I’ve wanted to do my whole life.

“Mabel,” Diana says, “do you have time to accompany Millie to the arena?”

I look at Mabel, giving her my best please-don’t-let-me-down look.

Camille smiles, answers for Mabel. “Yes! Mabel can come with us! That’s a great idea!”

Mabel looks sternly at Camille. “Well, I guess it’s settled then,” she says. Then she laughs and adds, “Of course I have time. I’ve always wanted to see what that place looked like.”

Diana finally gives in, and before I know it, the three of us set out to walk across town. Camille. Mabel. And me. As if I have a mother and a sister.

Before we even make it to the corner, Bump shows up, slowing his truck and pulling to the side of the road. “Where you ladies headed off to?” he shouts through the passenger window.

“Matter of fact, we were coming to see you, Mr. Anderson!” Mabel says, holding her hand above her eyes to block the sun.

“Really? Well, I’ll be. Climb on in. I’ll give you a ride.”

Camille climbs into the back, thrilled to be skirting right past Diana’s regular rules of behavior.

Mabel and I pile into the seat of Bump’s farm truck. Me in the middle, right next to Bump.

“Mabel says your real name’s Kenneth?” I ask.

“Kenneth Anderson,” Bump says. “Guys at work call me Bump. On account of this.” He points to his protruding Adam’s apple and laughs. He’s cute in a strange sort of way. Not as skinny as I remember. His smile is friendly.

We pass a group of boys playing catch. “Watch out!” Mabel yells. Bump swerves to avoid a ball, and I can’t keep my balance on the seat. I tilt into him. His arm touches mine. He smiles, says, “I should do that more often.” Mabel gives me a look and I straighten myself up, leaving just enough space between us that our skin doesn’t touch. I turn to check on Camille in the back, but she’s roaring with laughter, having the time of her life.

“So what should we call you? Bump or Kenneth?” I ask.

“Millie, you can call me anything, anytime, anywhere, and I’ll come running.”

Mabel laughs, and I do too. But right in that moment, Bump turns the wheel and I see the arena where Jack took his last ride. The air becomes heavy, and all the laughter dies away.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Bump asks. “Mr. Tucker will hold the spot as long as it takes. No reason to rush.”

Mabel wraps me into a hug and says, “Why don’t we go on back home? We can save this for another day.”

“No, it’s okay,” I say. “It won’t ever get any easier. We’re here. I can do this.”

We all climb down from the truck, and Bump brings us straight to Mr. Tucker’s office. Janine sits drinking coffee from a green mug. She pushes back from her desk all at once, rushing to offer us hugs. “Millie!” she squeals. “Are you here about the job? I sure hope so. Mr. Tucker is going to be so excited!” She says this as she’s walking to get him, and before I can respond, Mr. Tucker is shaking my hand and welcoming me to the crew.

“So when do I start?” I ask Mr. Tucker.

“Right away,” he says. “Bump here will show you the ropes.” He turns to Bump. “That all right with you, Mr. Anderson?”

Bump smiles. “I guess I can manage some time for that.”

Janine nudges him with her elbow and says, “Awful gentlemanly of you, Mr. Anderson.” And before I even know what’s hit me, I’m a member of the rodeo.

After seeing the entire arena and meeting more than twenty horses face-to-face, the three of us decide to walk home. It’s been weeks since I’ve spent any real time outside, and I need to teach my legs how to hold myself up again. I want to get strong enough to start working the horses right away. When Camille skips ahead to climb a tree, I take advantage of the chance to ask Mabel more questions about the box.

“I can’t believe you know about my grandmother. Oka. It seems a strange coincidence, don’t you think? That you know more about Jack’s family than I do?”

“No such thing as coincidence.”

“Mama always told me that Jack wasn’t all bad.”

“He didn’t start off that way,” Mabel says. “He was a sweet little boy. Loved his mother, and Oka loved him. But his father was rough, too rough, and when Jack put an end to it all, it meant he had to leave his mother and brother behind too. I imagine that can harden a person.”

“But why would Mama have married Jack if he had done such things? Killed his own father?” I don’t admit to Mabel that I understand that same dark desire, the desire to kill someone who’s hurt your mother. My stomach turns as I realize I’m not so different from Jack. That he’s not so different from Boone.

“She probably never knew,” Mabel explains. “It’s why Jack came here. To start over.”

“I need to rest a minute,” I admit. We sit on a bench outside the library and watch Camille climb magnolia limbs. It’s still chilly, but the sun is shining so I don’t feel too cold.

“Tell me more about Oka. My grandmother,” I plead.

Mabel puts her arm around me, starts to fill in the blanks. “You look a bit like her, if I say so myself. Pretty complexion. Deep, round eyes. You’re smart like her too. Running your own pecan business at such a young age. Not many kids got that kind of money sense. Oka was the same way. Managing that store.”

I try to imagine Oka counting money, selling ham and corn and lollipops. I picture Jack as a little boy, running into the store. Tugging on his mother’s dress, climbing into her lap.

“Is she still alive?” I ask. “What about Jack’s brother?”

“Last I heard, they were still in Willow Bend.”

I bend at the waist and try to breathe between my knees. Mabel sits still next to me and waits for me to calm myself. “I thought I was alone,” I explain, unfolding myself to sit upright again. “After Mama and Jack. So many secrets. Why?”

Mabel doesn’t answer. There is no real reason, it seems.

“Jack hit Mama,” I say, feeling the need to spit it out. Tired of carrying all these secrets. “He hit her a lot. All the time. And he was never a father to me. Not really.”

Mabel shakes her head, then says, “He was a sweet little boy.” I figure she’s trying to help me find the good.

“It wasn’t Mama’s fault,” I say, wanting to defend her. “If Jack had never hit her …” I leave the statement unfinished.

Mabel nods. Stays quiet.

Camille bounces over to us. “Can we stop for ice cream?” And just like that, we are both snapped back into Camille’s perfect world.