"Jimbo said it was okay." Her mother tapped her toe. Only then did she notice Mary, huddled in the chair on the other side of the room. Her mama gave her a weak smile and the okay sign.
Tears welled in Mary's eyes, but she held up her fingers and gave her the okay sign back.
"Ah, baby." Her mother came to her and bent down so their eyes were at the same level. "It's just three days, okay? I'll do the work, get the money, and come home." She smoothed Mary's bangs. "I'll be back before you know it."
Mary tried to talk, but her throat was too thick. She could feel her chin shaking, and her tears ran down her cheeks. She started to nod, but then she jumped to her feet and threw her arms around her mama's neck. "Don't go . . . please." Sobs rose in her chest, and she held tight. Maybe if she never let go . . .
"Baby, shhh." Her mama rocked her back and forth. She smelled like strong perfume, and her hair was stiffer than usual. But her voice felt good all the same. "It's just three days."
While her mama held her, she spoke to Lou. "Mary's had dinner. Just make sure she stays inside and give her three meals a day. I bought a box of Cheerios." She motioned to the kitchen. "It's in the cupboard, and there's milk in the—"
The door flung open, and Jimbo burst inside. "I'm late." He threw his hands in the air. "My fault, I know it. Don't gripe at me, Lou." He looked at Mary and her mama. "What do we have here? A sad little good-bye?"
Her mama pulled back and flashed angry eyes at Jimbo. "I was just saying I bought Cheerios." She reached back and took Mary's hand. "Make sure you feed her."
Jimbo took a few steps closer. He looked at Mary in a way that made her feel like running. "You and me are about to have some fun, kid."
Mary hid behind her mother, burying her face in her mama's back.
"Don't worry." Jimbo laughed a little softer this time. "I'll take real good care of you."
"Stop!" Her mama pulled away, crossed the room to Jimbo, and shoved his shoulder. "That's no way to talk to a little girl. You're scaring her."
"Listen." Jimbo held his hand up high as if he might hit her mama. His laughter stopped. "Don't tell me what to do."
Lou stretched back out on the couch and closed her eyes. "I'm going back to sleep." She raised her arm a bit. "I'll make breakfast in the morning."
"Don't worry about it." Jimbo slapped her feet and chuckled again. "I'm the babysitter. For the next three days Mary's mine."
Something was wrong with Jimbo. Mary noticed it about the same time her mother did. He was too happy—strangely happy.
Her mama put her hands on her hips. "What're you on, Jimbo? Don't tell me you're babysitting my girl when you're on drugs."
"I'll take whatever I want!" His shout shook the small apartment. He leaned against the wall, and his face relaxed. "Go, Jayne. Your job'll be here in a few minutes. Everything'll be fine."
Mary gave the slightest shake of her head, but she didn't cry out. She didn't dare. A ribbon of fear worked its way around her heart. It was really going to happen,- she was going to stay with Jimbo.
Her mama backed away from him and returned to Mary. She opened her arms, and Mary ran to her. For the sweetest few seconds she allowed herself to feel safe, lost in her mother's arms. Then she felt her mama pull back, and their eyes connected. "I'm sorry, baby. This is the best I can do."
Mary wanted to ask one more time about Grandma Peggy, but there wasn't time. Her mama would be gone in a few minutes. Instead she sniffed twice and nodded.
"Be a good girl, okay?"
Another few sniffs. "I will."
Her mother ran her thumb along Mary's brow. "I'm doing this for you, Mary." Her eyes looked watery. "I love you, baby."
"Love you too."
Her mother pulled away and picked up a grocery bag full of what looked like clothes.
On her way out, Jimbo shouted, "Work hard, Jayne. We'll be waiting for you."
The last thing her mama did before she walked out the door was look at Mary. In her eyes Mary could hear everything her mother had just told her all over again: "I'm sorry, Mary. It's just three days. . . just three days."
Then, in a rush, she was gone.
***
"That was the last time I ever saw her." Mary blinked, and she felt the memory lift like patchy fog. "Jimbo and Lou did a lot of secret talking that night, and in the morning they packed up the apartment and we left."
Across from her, Emma was still rapt, her expression anxious. "For the remote cabin? the one in Virginia? I think I read something about that in the newspaper."
"Yes. My mama made a lot of bad choices." She lifted her chin. "But she loved me." Mary wanted Emma to understand this part. "She just didn't know how to go home again."
The words seemed to hit Emma hard. She sat back, unblinking. Her eyes filled and she shook her head. "Me neither."
Mary felt her expression soften. This was what she wanted, what she was praying for. That Emma would see herself in the story, and that along the way she would come to know the truth. If Jesus could rescue her, He could rescue Emma. No matter how terrible her life was today. She reached out and patted Emma's hand. "I had a feeling."
Emma wiped her fingers beneath her eyes. "It's complicated."
Mary sat back. "It always is."
"What happened to your mother?" Emma reached for her water. Her hand shook as she took a sip, but she never broke eye contact. "That's the part. . . the part the news never talked about."
"I've tried to piece it together from the police reports." Mary felt an ache in her heart. Her mother had never found her way off the streets, never figured out how to free herself from the abuse. It was the reason Mary was driven to help women like Emma. She drew a slow breath. "After three days she must've come back for me and found the apartment empty. The three of us gone."
"She must've been crazy with grief."
"I think so." Mary closed her eyes for a few seconds. She could still feel her mother's arms around her, the way she'd felt safe in her embrace the last time they were together. She blinked and looked at Emma. "She must've figured there was no way to find me, and the guilt... it must've been too much." She paused long enough to rope in her emotions. "The police . . . found her in an alley a few blocks away. Dead from an overdose."
Emma was shaking. She covered her face, and for a moment she looked like she might break down. "That could've been me." Her words were muffled, but they rang in painful honesty through the room. "So many times that could've been me." After a while she wiped a few errant tears. Her eyes met Mary's. "I'm sorry. About your mama."
"It's been a long time." They were words she said easily now, meant to release people from feeling sorry for her. She was okay—she really was. Healed of so many horrors. But still, on certain late-spring days, she would remember her mother, the feel of her arms, the feel of her hair that last time. Only Grandma Peggy knew how much the loss still hurt.
"What happened next?" The moment Emma asked, a shadow fell over her face. "I mean, if you don't mind talking about it."
"I don't mind." Mary tried to look past the walls in Emma's heart. "There's a reason I tell this story."
Emma hugged herself tight. She was still shaking, partly because of the story, no doubt. But at least some of her jittery behavior had to be from needing a drug fix. She took another sip of her water. "It can't be easy."
"It isn't."
She raised one bony shoulder. "So why do it? Why tell it?"
"For you, Emma." Mary's throat was thick. "So you don't wind up like my mama. If maybe someone would've found her on the streets and told her the truth about Jesus, maybe . . . maybe everything would've turned out differently."
Emma didn't say another word. Her silence allowed Mary to fall back into the story, back as deep as she'd been before.
The part just ahead was one of the saddest of all.
* * *
Chapter 5
Contents - Prev / Next
Jimbo and Lou lied to her. They told Mary they were packin
g up their things and loading them into the back of Jimbo's truck so they could go find Mary's mother. Because her mama wasn't coming back, and they needed to go where she was.
"Why are we taking the couch and the dishes?" Mary had been ordered to stand along one of the walls so she wouldn't be in the way.
"I told you, kid." Jimbo gave her a mean look. "We need to find your mother."
"But why are we taking the stuff?"
"Because," Jimbo yelled from the doorway, "we ain't comin' back." His face was red, and sweaty drops ran down his face. He and Lou were holding a chair between them. It looked like they might drop it.
Mary took a few steps toward them. "After we find my mommy, you mean?"
"Quit askin' questions. You'll have your answers soon enough."
When they finished packing, Jimbo grabbed her and pulled her toward the truck. Before they climbed in, he stopped and looked at her. His face was still red, and he smelled like dirty clothes. He put his hand on her cheek and smiled at her. Only something wasn't right about his smile because the bigger his mouth grew, the more his eyes got scary.
"You know what, little girl?" He moved his face close. His breath smelled like cigarettes.
She didn't want to answer him, so she turned her face. Where was her mama? How would Jimbo know where to find her? And how come her mother never said anything about Jimbo and Lou going away and taking all the chairs and beds?
Jimbo was still breathing at her. "Okay, don't talk to me." He laughed quietly. "I'll do the talking. One of these days real soon you're gonna make me a fortune. You know that, kid?"
She stuck her chin out. "What about my mama?"
"You'll see her soon enough." He put his hand on the back of her head and shoved her into the truck.
Not until they were an hour out of New York City did Jimbo look over his shoulder at her sitting in the backseat of the extended cab. He flashed her that scary smile and said, "Did we say we were gonna find your mama?" He glanced at the road and then back at her again. "Oops, I was wrong."
"Wrong?" Mary's voice was the smallest squeak. She scrunched herself against the seat and searched Jimbo's eyes through the rearview mirror. The red-beaded purse was in her lap, and on the seat next to her was a small bag of her clothes.
Lou took over. "Kid, what he's sayin' is your mama's gonna have to find us." She looked at her husband. "We're relocating."
Relocating? Mary had no idea what they were talking about. How could they move when her mama was coming back in just two more days? And how would she know where to find them? Fear circled her and squeezed her chest so she couldn't draw a full breath. She started to cry, and for a minute she got mad. Really mad. "Take . . . take me back to my mama!"
Jimbo shot her a look. "You're comin' with us, so quit your sniveling."
Mary kept crying, but she kept herself quiet except for the pitiful sobs that slipped out every now and then. If she couldn't talk to Jimbo or Lou, she'd talk to God. The way Grandma Peggy would do if she were trapped in a truck heading away from everything she loved. Dear Jesus, it's me, Mary. I don't know where they're taking me or what's happening. Please bring my mama back to me. She just had one more job, and then me and her were going back to Grandma Peggy's. Please, God.
As she said the silent prayer, her fear faded. What had Grandma Peggy said? God had plans for her, plans for a good future, right? He would bring Mama to her, probably as soon as she was finished with her job.
Mary felt herself settle down. If her mama didn't come, she'd wait till Jimbo and Lou were asleep and she'd leave. She'd find her way to a nice family and ask for a ride back to her mama or Grandma Peggy's house. She clutched the little red purse more tightly. God would work it all out.
A lot of time passed. The tall buildings disappeared, and she started seeing trees and grass. Mary tried to think how long they'd been driving. At least long enough for one day's walk into the city, maybe two. It was a long time, more than she ever thought they'd drive. How would her mother find her, way out here in the country?
In the front seat Lou whispered something to Jimbo. He was still driving, and he looked at Mary over his shoulder. "That's a good girl. Nice and quiet." His lips came up in that sort of smile again. Only this time the light from the sun hit his golden tooth, and he looked really scary. Like a pirate.
She stared out the window again. So many trees. Never in all her life had she seen so many trees. They were pretty, but they made her tummy feel sick and rumbly. Because where would she find a friendly neighbor if she needed to leave in the nighttime? There were hardly any houses way out here in all the trees. Mary checked to see if Jimbo and Lou were watching her. They weren't. She looked down at the little purse, the tiny red beads.
The reason she had the purse was because she was wearing her shorts, her only ones. These were the best shorts of all because they had a deep pocket where she could hide her red purse, and that way Jimbo couldn't make her leave it behind.
For a while she ran her fingers over the outside of the purse and remembered what her grandma said. That she would take care of Mary if ever her mama couldn't. Mary stared at the purse, and a thought came into her head. Maybe she would have to find Grandma Peggy first. Because where would her mama live, anyway? She would come home from her job and the apartment would be empty. She might go to Grandma Peggy's too. Maybe they could all meet there tomorrow.
Mary squinted at the little red purse and tried to remember the exact words her grandma had written on the piece of paper inside. She moved her quiet fingers slowly as could be so Jimbo and Lou wouldn't hear her. Then she opened the little purse and pulled out the note. She looked at it. What had her grandma said? That it was special, and that the words on the paper would always be important for her, right?
She unfolded it and studied the letters. They were strange and jumbly, and they reminded her of the sad truth: she couldn't read. But one day she would, because this year she was going to school. Grandma Peggy said so.
She sneaked another look at Jimbo and Lou, but their heads were looking straight ahead, and when they talked it was too quiet for her to hear. Her eyes dropped down, and she looked at the note again. It felt special in her hands, but if Jimbo saw it he might take it away, and Lou might want her beautiful purse. So she folded the paper again and put it back where it belonged. Then she closed the purse and hid it in her pocket.
They drove and drove and drove, and after a while the roads got smaller and there were even more trees but fewer cars. Once they stopped at a gas station, and Jimbo gave her an apple and a candy bar. Mary had been very hungry, but she didn't want to say anything. The farther they got from the city the more she wasn't sure.
What if her mama didn't know where she was or how to find her? And what did Jimbo mean when he said she was going to make him a fortune?
After the gas station they drove a long time again, and finally Jimbo slowed the truck down. He turned onto a bumpy, rocky kind of road. It was skinny too. Mary was sure that only one car or truck could fit on it. They drove on the road until it went up high onto a hill, and that's when Mary thought of something. There were no other houses, no apartments or neighbors or buildings or anything. At the top of the hill there was just a little square building.
She had another thought, and she leaned forward. "Is this where my mama works?"
Jimbo climbed out of the truck, opened the back door, and pulled her out by the hand. "No, little girl." He smiled that mean smile again. "But it's where you'll work,- that's for sure."
"What . . . what about Mama?" She slipped her hand into her pocket and felt the little beads brush against her fingers. "How will we find her?"
Jimbo opened his mouth like he might say something, but then he stood straight, shook his head, and pulled her along.
She didn't want to go, so she dug her heels into the ground a little. But Jimbo was stronger than her. A lot stronger. He yanked her hard, and she fell onto her knees. In a flash she got back on her feet because she didn't want
the little purse to fall onto the ground. When she was standing, Jimbo dragged her along behind him. Lou followed with a bag of stuff from the truck.
When they reached three little steps, Mary had the most scared feeling ever. "What is this place, Jimbo? Where are we?"
He stopped and looked at her, and even with the outside air she could smell his stinky mouth. "This, little girl, is your new home." He took her inside and sat her in a corner. The cabin was small, even smaller than the apartment. It had a little room and a kitchen, and that's all she could see. It felt dark and lonely and cold. Then Jimbo pointed at her, and his dirty fingernail came real close to her face. "Don't go talkin' about your mama. Don't say a word or I'll slap your pretty face, got it?"
Mary put her hand over her cheek and pushed herself back against the wall. She slid down to the floor and nodded, but she didn't say anything else. Because what could she say? Jimbo said not to talk about her mother, and that's all she wanted to talk about. Instead she pulled her knees up really close to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. Then she put her head down and closed her eyes and thought about everything her mama had said, about how she was just going to work and she'd be back in three days.
But as darkness came and Jimbo and Lou brought all their old stuff inside, Mary heard Lou say something that was even scarier than the feeling she had when she walked inside this place. She said, "When're you gonna tell the kid her mama ain't comin' back? Maybe then she'll quit buggin' us."
Mary lifted her head and stood up. Her arms and legs were shaking, and she leaned against the wall so she wouldn't fall. "What?" She was scared but not so scared that she was going to sit still. Not if her mother wasn't coming back. "What'd you say?"
Jimbo and Lou stopped and turned so they could see her. Jimbo waved his hand in the air. "You heard Lou . . . your mama ain't comin' back. Okay?" He let his arms fall to his sides. "What'd you think? That she had a receptionist job out here in the hill country?"
Hill country? Was that where they were? And what was the hill country, anyway? Was it a place her mama could find, and if not, then how were they going to find each other again? She started crying. Not loud, but with lots and lots of tears. Her body felt hurt or broken. Or maybe it was her heart.