Tomato Girl (32 page)

I keep asking her to make her magic work to cure Mama's mind and bring you home again, but she says there's a limit to how much magic she can do unless a person wants it to work. The magic only worked on Easter because he wanted to live. That makes me wonder if you do want to come back? You do want to, don't you, Daddy? Please say you do.

I would ask her to bring back Baby Tom, but I worry that Mama would hurt him. The way Mama acts, maybe it's better she has only a dead baby to take care of, and not one who needs love.

Love,

XOXOXO

Ellie

Dear Ellie,

I had to take the job or risk losing it, so now I'm driving the pulpwood truck between states. I take Tess along. Some words are coming back to her, but her recovery will be slow. She had a seizure last night, and I sat up with her until morning. She's grown afraid of the dark.

I take Tess along on all my runs. I tried to find a woman to look after her, but the only one I could afford said no when I told her about Tess's seizures.

I'll send you a little money when I get paid.

Love,

Daddy

Dear Daddy,

Mama keeps trying to nurse the baby. She keeps me up sometimes all night. Last night, she sat up and smoked cigarettes. I went for a walk and got sick. All the smoke and no sleep made my head and stomach hurt. I threw up in the cemetery. I leaned up against somebody's headstone and cried myself to sleep.

There's been rumors about you, Daddy, about how you ran off with the tomato girl. People say you shot Mason Reed so you could have his girl for yourself.

Mr. Morgan taught me about chalk doors before you left, when Mama was in the hospital. He showed me how to draw a door and close out words that hurt. Being behind the door helps, but I'm still scared.

I try to make things look normal, but can't keep up. Clara makes sure we get supper, but we have so many bills, and Mama is getting worse. She yells at me for every little thing I do. Sheriff Rhodes says that the autopsy report came back, and that he has to bring you in. It sounds bad, Daddy. He even knows about the pulpwood truck. He promises he won't hurt you, Daddy, as long as you don't run.

Love,

XOXOXO

Ellie

Dear Ellie,

I'm running loads of pulpwood nearly every day, trying to keep a roof over our heads and pay the hospital bill. I send what I can. I hope you understand.

Tess is getting better. She smiles and squeezes my hand. The truck rides are long and hard, but we manage. I stop to let her walk around. Today, I bought her a tomato plant. She holds it on her lap while we make our runs.

Be a good girl, Ellie. Make sure you do your homework and look after things until I come.

Love,

Daddy and Tess

Dear Daddy,

I haven't been able to study like I'm supposed to, and my grades are getting bad. I try hard, memorizing words on the front porch while I wait for the postman. But when the test comes, I forget them. I hope you won't be mad when you see my report card. I can't think straight when I'm hungry, sleepy, and scared. Mama keeps me up late, fretting about Baby Tom, and we never really have enough to eat. I worry what's going to happen now that Sheriff Rhodes knows where you are.

I'm seeing a counselor at school. I have to go because of my bad grades. I sit in Mrs. Milby's office and draw pictures or play with dolls. I'm supposed to talk to her, but she only wants to know my secrets. When I step into her office, I just can't speak. She is nice to me, but I hate her. She wants me to talk about you.

My bags are all packed for when you come.

Love,

XOXOXO

Ellie

The next blue envelope came with no note, only three twenty-dollar bills folded inside.

Dear Daddy,

Thank you for the money, but I miss your letters. Tell me when, Daddy? When are you coming home? Tell me about the route you will take, how you have mapped it out, how you have filled the tank with gas, and found somebody to look after Tess. Oh, Daddy, I need good news.

Because we had money, Mama decided this would be market day. Sometimes, she sends me alone to pick up bread, milk, and a few tin cans from the bins marked “Half-price, dented,” but not this time.

Today, she put on her dark coat over her dirty nightgown and told me to come along. She stood in the market and smashed yellow squash on the floor. She yelled at the vendor over the price of his rotten
tomatoes. I couldn't take his side, or explain how the tomato girl had taken you away.

Please, Daddy. We need you. I need you. This is too hard to do alone.

Love,

XOXOXO

Ellie

W
HEN WE COME
home from the market, Mama drops the paper bag on the kitchen table. Her elbow bumps a glass of juice left from breakfast, spilling the juice on the floor.

“Clean that up!” Mama slaps my face.

I jump. My cheek stings, and I am too shocked to know what to say. I don't remember the last time Mama struck me.

Mama paces the floor and runs her hands through her tangled hair. She used to comb it behind her ears, curling the ends under with her fingertips, her brown bangs swept to one side. Sometimes she'd take tortoiseshell combs and pull the sides up, or use a ribbon from her sewing box to tie her hair in a ponytail. She hardly washes it anymore. It's like straw now, and when she rakes her fingers through it, pieces stick out. Mama has turned into a scarecrow, and I'm the bird she frightens away.

“Why didn't you drink your juice? You think we can afford to pour juice on the goddamn floor?” Mama's hands rest on her hips. The blue vein in her neck rises like a snake trapped under her skin.

Hearing Mama curse makes me want to cry. Once she wouldn't allow bad words. Now I hear her at night in her rocking chair, chanting bad words about Daddy and Tess.

It's not only the bad words. Mama's voice is changing.

Her voice used to lift. She might say, “We're having boiled cabbage for supper,” and it would sound like an invitation. Her smooth voice made me want to eat the cabbage, even though I hate it.

Now Mama clenches her teeth when she speaks. Her voice is thick and dark like cough syrup.

“I'm sorry I didn't drink my juice, Mama.” I don't argue. I hadn't finished my juice this morning because she wouldn't wait for me. She'd walked into the kitchen wearing her coat and said, “Come on, Ellie, we're going to the market, now.”

I stay quiet. Left alone, Mama might settle herself, maybe pick up her knitting needles and work on the blue blanket for Baby Tom. That sometimes calms her.

I move to the sink. Dirty dishes are piled on the counter and fill the sink. A dead fly floats in the dishwater that's been standing for days.

I'm falling behind on the housework; there is so much to do.

I squeeze a green glob of Palmolive onto a dishrag.

“Don't use so much! They don't give the damn soap away!”

“Yes, Mama.” I kneel on the floor and wipe up the spilled juice. I bury my face in my hands and sob. I miss Daddy and don't understand how he could just go away. I miss Mama, who has gone away without leaving.

Mama walks around the kitchen, putting the groceries away, slamming cabinet doors. Then she goes into the living room to sit in a chair by the window. I watch her nervous fingers pick at a mole on her neck until it bleeds.

I go into the living room and whisper into her ear, “Mama, don't hurt yourself.” My mother smells bad. Her hair, her breath, even her skin has a sour smell. She hasn't taken a bath or changed clothes in days.

In the upstairs bathroom, I find a clean washcloth, wet it with warm water and soap. I wring some of the water into the sink, then walk back downstairs to the living room where Mama sits. I move slowly, trying my best not to say or do anything to upset her. She's been tense all day, and the outburst in the market didn't seem to calm her. Her knuckles are white, and she keeps digging at the mole on her neck. I hum to her. Then gently, like peeling a Band-Aid from tender skin, I pull Mama's fingers away from her neck and lay the warm wet cloth where she's bleeding.

The small mole on Mama's neck hangs by a thin piece of skin. I don't know how to take it off without hurting, so I leave it to dangle. Clara says some wounds heal themselves. I hope she's right.

A knocking sound startles me. Somebody's at the door. “I'll get that, Mama,” I say.

Three days ago, Sheriff Rhodes said he knew Daddy's whereabouts, then left for Tennessee. Maybe the sheriff's brought Daddy home instead of putting him in jail. Or maybe Daddy's come back like he promised, with his hands too full to reach into his pockets.

But it isn't Daddy. It's only Miss Wilder.

I try to smile. I don't want her to think I'm unhappy to see her, but I've had my bag packed for weeks. I want my daddy so bad, it hurts. I close the door partially so she can't see too far inside.

“Hi, Ellie. I just wanted to visit for a bit. Maybe see how your counseling sessions are going, talk with your mother. She hasn't answered the notes I've sent, so I thought we could all talk together. Is this a good time?” she asks.

“No, it's not a good time, not really. My mother is napping. She doesn't feel well.”

“Oh, I see. I hope it's nothing serious.”

Miss Wilder knows I'm lying. I can tell by her face, the way it seems torn between a smile and a frown.

I know that Miss Wilder's noticed changes in me. She watches me when she's at her desk grading papers or standing on the playground
near the swings. Last week, I missed six of my spelling words and she'd asked, “Is everything all right at home?” I told her yes, but she hadn't seemed to believe me. She'd asked again, “Ellie, are you sure? You know you can come to me …” and her voice trailed to that worried sound.

I've tried so hard, but I know I'm not the same girl. I don't even look the same.

“Maybe you can visit another time.” Miss Wilder mustn't see Mama, or the unswept floors, or the dirty clothes piled on the stairs.

“That would be nice.” Miss Wilder smiles again. “I really would like to visit. And please, I think the visit should be soon. The school year's almost over, and we need to talk.”

Part of me wants to scream out to Miss Wilder, to tell her all the awful things that are happening, but I only nod. I've got to keep quiet. If anyone finds out how Mama behaves, the doctors will take her away. I'll be sent to an orphanage or foster home, and Daddy won't know where to find me when he comes back.

“Oh, I brought a cake,” Miss Wilder says. “It's nothing much. Lemon-vanilla swirl. Just trying a new recipe.” She hands me a white Tupperware, and I open the door a bit wider to squeeze the container inside.

“Thank you, Miss Wilder.”

“You could bring the container back to my house if you like, Ellie. You remember where I live? I'd love your company. Belle has learned a new trick or two.”

I nod and thank her again. My bag is already packed for Daddy, and I can't leave until he comes home, but for a moment, I think about going with her. I think about grabbing my bag and my sweater and walking to Miss Wilder's house, where everything is clean and warm.

Instead, I close the door and lock it so no one can come inside. My mother needs me, and soon, my father will be home. I can wait a little longer.

After Miss Wilder leaves, I sit on the floor and open the Tupperware. Inside is a perfect cake, swirled white and yellow, and covered with glaze. The cake smells like lemons and butter, and I am hungry, but I feel too sad to eat it. I look at the pretty cake and remember the parties Mary Roberts and I had when we were friends. I think about the Sunday school picnic coming up this weekend, and how much I'd love to go.

A car engine rumbles outside and brings me back from daydreams. It sounds as if someone has parked in front of our house. I wonder if Miss Wilder came back? Or maybe Mrs. Roberts sent over the minister like she said she might. I leave the cake on the floor, then stand up to peek out the window.

Sheriff Rhodes opens his car door and steps out. He adjusts his wide-brimmed hat, but before he shuts the door, leans inside his car to speak to someone in back.

I cup my hands around my eyes to block the sun so I can see. The person is too small to be a man. I see the pale blonde hair, and I know.

Sheriff Rhodes has brought Tess, but where is Daddy?

I
DON'T WAIT FOR
Sheriff Rhodes to come inside. I pull open the front door and shout, “Where's Daddy?”

Tears stream down my face. “I want Daddy!” I pull on Sheriff Rhodes's shirt. I'll make him tell.

“Ellie, honey, please calm down.” Sheriff Rhodes places his large hands on my shoulders.

“You promised you'd bring my daddy back safe! Where is he? And why did you bring her? She doesn't belong here!” I point at Tess.

“Now hush, Ellie. You don't want the neighbors to come outside and see you acting this way, do you?” Sheriff Rhodes kneels in front of me and looks into my face.

I shake my head. I know about things you can't let people see.

“That's a good girl.” He pauses. “In just a minute, we'll have to go tell your mama the news. But I'll tell you first, give you a chance to let it sink in before we go inside, okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper. My stomach tightens.

“I found your daddy, and I didn't hurt him,” Sheriff Rhodes explains. “I kept my promise, Ellie. But he refused to come with
me, said he was the only one who knew how to take care of Tess. He wouldn't leave her. I had to get assistance from the Tennessee deputies to bring him in. He and the deputies got a little scuffed up in the process, but your Daddy is okay. Just a few bruises.”