Tomato Girl (27 page)

Sheriff Rhodes looked at me. “Ellie, what on earth?”

Tears streamed down my face. “Don't read that letter! It's not like you think! Daddy didn't do anything wrong!”

Sheriff Rhodes took the letter from Mama's outstretched hand. “Ellie, honey,” he said, “I think you better tell me exactly what's going on.”

S
HERIFF
R
HODES PUT
his thick fingers around my wrist and pulled me close. Three times he asked me to tell him what I knew about the letter from Mason Reed, but I wouldn't answer. I didn't lie. Didn't tell only part of the story. I just didn't say anything at all. You can never get in trouble for saying the wrong thing if you say nothing.

“I suppose your Daddy got mad when he read the letter from Mr. Reed?” Sheriff Rhodes asked again. “Did he seem upset in any way?”

I didn't answer.

“Did he and Tess argue?” He scratched his ear. “I need your help here, Ellie.”

I shook my head no.

Mama tapped the kitchen table. When she was in her too-fast mood, she didn't like life to go slow. “I need a cigarette,” she said, her voice much too loud.

“Here,” Sheriff Rhodes said, tossing her a half-empty pack of Winstons. “Matches are inside.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, “you know you can trust Sheriff Rhodes.” Still holding my wrist, he guided me onto his lap. “Here, you sit with me and just think for a minute. Close your eyes and think.”

I closed my eyes, but all I thought about was my daddy, and how I had to protect him.

Sheriff Rhodes's voice broke my thoughts. “Sometime yesterday, Ellie, the postman brought a letter from Mr. Reed. It's clear somebody opened and read it. Your Mama said she found it crumpled up here on the floor, so I figure somebody didn't like what the letter said. Now, your Daddy and Tess have disappeared and Mr. Reed is dead. What's Sheriff Rhodes supposed to think, huh?”

I didn't say anything.

Sheriff Rhodes sighed.

Mama ran her fingers through her hair. “For God's sake, George, let her be. She'll never tell you. She's a daddy's girl through and through. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. I'm surprised she didn't leave with him.”

“Mama! How can you say that?” My voice came out louder than I meant for it to, but I couldn't stop myself. “I took care of you, Mama, the best I knew how!” I thought about the night Mama lost Baby Tom, how I'd helped her clean up and taken the Baby to the cellar for her. When Daddy had tied her wrists to the headboard, I'd cut her free and slept by her side. All the times before, making her tissue paper flowers and soup, keeping people away when she felt sad, doing chores when she couldn't manage, and telling white lies to keep her happy. I'd always taken care of her.

Mama pressed her hands against her ears to shut out my voice. The cigarette dangled between her lips.

Sheriff Rhodes scratched his head. “Wait now, let's not pick a fight here,” he warned me.

I stopped talking and waited to see if Mama had anything else
to say, but she simply removed her hands from her ears and put her cigarette out on the table before dropping it into her coffee cup.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

“Well, I can see I'm not getting anywhere here,” Sheriff Rhodes said. “Julia, I know Rupert does some hunting. Do you know where he keeps his shotgun?”

“Out in the shed. Why?” Mama's eyes darkened.

“You won't mind if I take a look around?”

“No, of course not. But you're not leaving, are you?” Mama asked. She twisted the buttons on the front of her dress.

“I'll come back in before I go,” he said.

Sheriff Rhodes put his hand on my chin and looked into my eyes as he spoke. “Ellie, honey, I don't know what your daddy's done. However this turns out, I'll do all I can to look after you and your mama.”

“I don't want you looking after us. I want Daddy!” I said, almost shouting. “And you leave my father alone! Don't you dare shoot my daddy! Promise me you won't shoot him!”

Sheriff Rhodes wrapped his arms around me. “I won't shoot your daddy, Ellie. I promise I won't hurt him.”

As my sobs turned to hiccups, Mama came over and rubbed my hair. Her hand moved quickly, the way it does when she's nervous.

W
HILE
S
HERIFF
R
HODES
went out to the toolshed to look for Daddy's gun, Mama made supper. I helped stir the mashed potatoes while Mama finished frying the pork chops and salted the green peas. Mama talked and talked. She rambled on about Baby Tom and planting new pansies; about how I shouldn't fret because Daddy would forget Tess and come back; not to worry about Sheriff Rhodes because she could keep him from putting Daddy in jail. “You'll see, Ellie. We'll all be a family again, Daddy, Mommy, you, and Baby Tom.”

The sheriff returned to the house just as Mama finished setting the food on the table. “There's no gun out there.” He leaned against the kitchen wall and looked at Mama. “Only strange thing I saw was some equine tranquilizers and a couple of syringes. I know Rupert doesn't keep horses. Any idea what he'd be using them for?”

Mama looked at the floor. Her eyes focused on the black and white tiles. She studied the pattern as if it were a giant chessboard and she needed to decide her next move.

The sheriff paused, watching Mama stare at the floor. He gazed at me. I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I stared back at him, not blinking once. He had to see I was strong. I wouldn't be the place he could find a crack. Daddy had taught me that you never tell people too much, and you keep your eyes focused when they get close to the truth.

“Well, I'll have to call the coroner, see if they find any trace of tranquilizer used on Mason Reed.” The sheriff spoke to Mama, but looked at me. He knew I knew, but I would not give.

“Don't bother, George.” Mama looked up, her face tense and flushed. “They weren't for Mason Reed. He used them on me, understand?”

“Jesus Christ!”

Sheriff Rhodes stepped forward and put his hands on Mama's shoulders. She pulled away. He didn't know Mama's moods like I did. She needed to move, not be held still.

“Let's eat,” Mama said, pacing from the stove to the table, from the cabinets to the sink. She gathered spoons, salt and pepper, anything to keep moving. Most folks would see a busy woman preparing the evening meal, but if you knew Mama as I did, you'd see the spiral inside like whirls of color trapped under her skin. Her hands shook as she placed each item on the table, spilling a few peas from the bowl. Every few minutes, Mama paused, wound the same strand of hair behind her ears, and gazed at the road through the window.

W
E SAT AROUND
the table, Sheriff Rhodes in Daddy's chair at the head of the table. I wanted to ask him to move, but instead kept quiet. An argument might get him back to questions about Daddy.

Besides, I was hungry. I'd been too upset to eat at Clara's house and now my stomach ached. I speared a thick pork chop and cut it into pieces on my plate, then added a large scoop of mashed potatoes with extra butter on top. I spooned a few peas beside my potatoes. I hate green peas almost as much as carrots, but grownups make a fuss if they see no vegetables on your plate.

The pork chop tasted salty; Mama had sprinkled too much on them while they fried. The inside was tender and moist, though, and I ate it, savoring every bite.

“I fed your chick earlier today, but you might want to take him some of these mashed potatoes after we're done,” Mama said, piling too much food on her plate. Mounds of peas covered Mama's potatoes.

“Got you an Easter chick, hey?” Sheriff Rhodes asked, shoving pork then buttered bread into his mouth. He looked at Mama as she played with her hair and stirred her peas into her potatoes.

I nodded and drank my tea.

“What's his name?” He talked from the corner of his full mouth.

“I haven't named him yet.” I almost told him about Jellybean, but didn't want to talk about any more dead things. Besides, Tess had named Jellybean and that reminder might upset Mama. During her sad times, she mostly cried when she got upset, but during her too-fast times, she sometimes threw things and had fits. She said dirty words and made faces that scared me. For now, she seemed able to eat and stay seated. At other times, she might not be able to settle down enough to eat or sleep or stop crying. Those were the times Daddy gave her the shots. Would I be able to calm Mama without them?

I understood how Daddy could use them. When you are desperate, you do things you'd never imagine. Is that how Daddy felt
when he killed Mason Reed? Maybe Tess made Daddy desperate that way.

Mama swallowed her food and licked her fingers, one at a time. The sucking sounded loud in the quiet kitchen.

“What about Easter? That's a good name for a chick,” Mama suggested.

“Thanks, Mama. I like that.” I hadn't cleaned my plate, but didn't think Mama would notice. She forgot many of the rules. That had mostly been Daddy's job. “Can I go up to see him now?”

Mama nodded. “I couldn't find a box, so I cleaned out a coffee can and put him in that. The coffee shouldn't hurt him, just a few grounds left in the bottom.”

“Okay.” I pushed my chair back from the table and stood. My scraped elbow burned when I bent my arm. “As long as you remembered to poke lots of holes.”

Mama dropped her fork and put her hand over her mouth.

My knees almost buckled, then I caught myself. “No, Mama, please don't say you forgot the holes.”

I ran upstairs, my tired legs stretching to take two steps at a time. I threw open the door to my room. Mama and Sheriff Rhodes were right behind me.

The blue Maxwell House can stood on my bed.
Please God,
I prayed. How long ago had she put him in the can? There would be enough air for awhile, but I'd been gone for hours.

My hands shook as I pulled the plastic lid from the can. The air inside felt warm and smelled bitter from the chick's droppings and leftover coffee grounds.

The green chick lay on his side.

“Easter?” My eyes filled with tears. He didn't even know he had a name.

Mama placed her shaking hand on the small chick. “He's breathing, just a little, Ellie. Here, feel.” Mama took my hand and rested it on the chick.

I was so afraid the breathing Mama felt was her own tremble. But no, I felt it, too! A tiny movement, a flutter. I had to do something to try to save him. And then I remembered what I had overheard that afternoon. “We have to take Easter to see Clara, Mama. She knows magic. Please, Mama. Clara can save him, I know she can.”

I
RODE IN THE BACKSEAT
of Sheriff Rhodes's car and held the coffee can on my lap. Even with the window rolled down partway, the inside of the car smelled like sweat, pee, cigarettes, and dog. I worried that the bad air would make it even harder for little Easter to breathe. I cupped my hand over his soft body to make sure he was still alive. His tiny chest barely moved.

Tears wet my face, but I didn't dare take my hands off Easter to wipe them away. Bubba sniffed at the can, trying to find the chick he smelled but couldn't see. “Bubba, stop!” I had to grip the can tight to keep him from knocking it out of my hands.

“Lay down, Bubba!” Sheriff Rhodes looked into the rearview mirror and made a stern face.

The scolded dog flopped down on the seat and rested his head on his paws.

Mama sat up front next to Sheriff Rhodes and stared out the window. She had grown quiet at the mention of Clara. She didn't ask how I knew her; she didn't say anything. She twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, winding it tight against her head.
This would hurt anyone else, but when Mama's in her too-fast mood, she doesn't seem to feel pain.

Sheriff Rhodes adjusted his hat. A roll of fat on the back of his neck rested on his dark brown collar. “We'll be at Clara's house in no time,” he said. “Right down the street, and we'll be there.”

I wondered if he said the same thing to criminals as he drove them to jail. I could hear him saying, “We're almost to the jail-house now, boys.” No wonder they sweated and peed all over the backseat.

He said a few more things, but I only half heard them. When your heart is breaking, sometimes you just want everyone to hush.

I focused on my mission. Clara could save Easter. Yes, she could. She had to save him, because the thought of him dying hurt too much to imagine. I could not stand in the yard and put another small thing into the cold ground.
Please, God,
I prayed,
let her know the right magic. Let Easter live.

Sheriff Rhodes parked in front of Clara's house. I looked out the window and saw Jericho sitting in a rocking chair on the porch.

Sheriff Rhodes raised his hand at Jericho. Jericho waved back.

I tried to find a door handle to let myself out, but there wasn't one. I had to wait for Sheriff Rhodes to let me out.

Finally, he opened the door for Mama, then me.

I ran ahead of Mama and Sheriff Rhodes, up the path to the porch. Yellow light glowed from inside one window, and I imagined Clara inside, reading or making evening bread.

Jericho stood up when I reached the porch. “What you got in that coffee can, Ellie?”

“My chick … Mama forgot the holes … and …” I started crying again. I felt like pinching my own face for not being brave. Crying wouldn't explain how I needed Clara's help.

Somehow, Jericho knew.

“Come on in, honey. Clara's got her bag of tricks. She ain't going to let your bird die.”

Jericho opened the front door to let us in. “Clara?” he called. “We got company. They need your medicine.”

Clara stepped out of her bedroom and walked toward us. She'd tied a purple scarf around her head, but had on the same blue-gray dress with white flowers splattered on it that she'd worn earlier in the day.