Before You Were Mine: the breathtaking USA Today Bestseller
Em Muslin
USA Today Bestseller‘A great debut… it had me reaching for the tissues more than once!’ Jo-Ann Mapson, author of Finding CaseySometimes hope has a way of changing everything…Just hours after giving birth, Eli Bell is forced to give up her newborn baby daughter for adoption. Devastated, she tries desperately to rebuild her shattered life.Then, over thirty years later, Eli catches sight of her daughter. And she knows that she must do everything to find a way back into her life. Even if it means lying…While her husband Tommy must grow to accept his own part in the events of her early life, he can only try to save her before her obsession with the young woman ruins them both.Don’t miss the breathtaking debut Before You Were Mine by Em Muslin! Perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult, Alice Peterson and Lucy Dillon.Praise for Before You Were Mine:‘Heart-stoppingly beautiful. I was so involved in the story, I missed my stop on the train.’ Lynn Parsons, Radio Broadcaster‘Written with a beautiful touch where heartbreak meets love and loneliness meets freedom…it grabs on to your heartstrings.’ BiblioBeautyBooks‘A heartbreaking novel about what happens when we don't have the power to make our own choices. Before You Were Mine is a moving and emotional story that is sure to touch readers' hearts.’ Karen Katchur, author of The Sisters of Blue Mountain‘A great debut… it had me reaching for the tissues more than once!’ Jo-Ann Mapson, author of Finding Casey
Sometimes hope has a way of changing everything…
Just hours after giving birth, Eli Bell is forced to give up her newborn baby daughter for adoption. Devastated, she tries desperately to rebuild her shattered life.
Then, over thirty years later, Eli catches sight of her daughter. And she knows that she must do everything to find a way back into her life. Even if it means lying…
While her husband Tommy must grow to accept his own part in the events of her early life, he can only try to save her before her obsession with the young woman ruins them both.
Don’t miss the breathtaking debut Before You Were Mine by Em Muslin! Perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult, Alice Peterson and Lucy Dillon.
Before You Were Mine
Em Muslin
Contents
Cover (#u3b5b80a9-9b72-528f-9629-4253cc0f5b6b)
Blurb (#u665d5087-e03a-56e6-85d7-a4270280a02e)
Title Page (#uc658b2a5-1b36-53c4-b86f-2a9a0b190992)
Dedication (#u3362c37f-74c2-50de-9739-020b14a0d78c)
Chapter 1 (#ulink_b9c9dddf-dbfe-5a43-85ba-4556174e7887)
Chapter 2 (#ulink_f23b059e-5a10-5616-9b6d-1632d69c07d7)
Chapter 3 (#ulink_79204851-4150-57e9-9d34-e3cea0b0cfb6)
Chapter 4 (#ulink_17254844-60f3-5c42-b543-1dd11dc2cd2f)
Chapter 5 (#ulink_64cd4871-de1d-512c-a9df-c8642f650aca)
Chapter 6 (#ulink_1b0359d8-53fb-5303-b9c9-713966e29ad3)
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Author Bio (#ufa86d954-1c3d-59f2-9ea5-02f9d63b30cd)
Acknowledgements (#u79c0d156-19f3-51ab-8710-c25e8dc3db33)
Endpages (#u30242b70-573f-5168-8dc5-755c147312ee)
Copyright (#ulink_6342c143-77b8-52b8-b958-de949b711097)
In Memory of Bear
x x x
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling.)
I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)
I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart.
I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
E. E. Cummings, I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
“i carry your heart with me (i carry it in”. Copyright 1952, © 1980, 1991 by the Trustees for the E. E. Cummings Trust, from COMPLETE POEMS: 1904-1962 by E. E. Cummings, edited by George J. Firmage. Used by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation. This selection may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_4673ba4f-7d32-5932-b2ef-48b196952da4)
Apparently, I was a breech birth and – according to who you speak to – they think that all my problems come from that. I had decided to be a pain right from the beginning. ‘An awkward little belle,’ they used to say. All my brothers popped out like bubbles in an ice-cream sundae. Pop pop pop. But me? Me? I dug my elbows in and jumped out feet first.
My saving grace was that I was tip to toe a girl. Ma Bell had dreamed of having a little girl to dress up in lacy frocks and cotton socks that she would spend her days darning, whilst the boys and my Pa lay under oily cars drinking beer. So no matter about my pointed elbows, my Ma’s face was a picture. Bell’s Belle. Belle of the ball.
It’s rumoured that when the matron tried to cut my cord, my Ma was so determined we wouldn’t be separated, that she grabbed hold of the surgical scissors and chased her from the room. Can you imagine that? Again, it depends on who you ask. My eldest brother, Bert, says that’s just nonsense and she couldn’t wait to get me out. Pop pop pop. Eight pound and four ounces of little girl Bell. Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes.
My Pa, at the time of my birth, was changing a cam belt on an old Chevrolet and on hearing I was a girl, decided that whilst he was under the car, he may as well show my middle brother, Samuel, how to check the brake pads too. Shucks, that fatherly bond was strong.
Bert was approaching seventeen when my Pa and Ma discovered she’d fallen. Samuel was fourteen and Payton eleven years old. I hadn’t been planned and apparently not very welcome, but my Ma hung on and prayed every day that I would be a girl, and by golly just look at me. The prettiest girl in the U S of A. Except I was broad-shouldered, big-boned, and covered in puppy fat. But her prayers had been answered. Hallelujah. There is a God. Praise be to the Lord. Amen.
Our house is the fourth one on the right, just off the main drag. The one with the painted picket fence and star-spangled banner dangling from the front porch, just like in the movies. JFK would have been proud. Except I think the paint is probably peeling off the fence still. My Pa had promised my Ma a thousand times he’d paint that damn fence, but every year the thick grey-white mass would peel away, bubbling under the heat of the day.
My Ma would sit me on her knee on the porch and rock me to and fro, checking my forehead for a temperature. How she’d be able to feel a fever in that heat, heaven only knows.
Inside was just like a home should be. The smell of cooking simmering in the corner of the kitchen and a table in the middle, where we’d all sit and eat as a family. A first-class American family. I’ve seen them in the movies too. Across the table of food, I could always smell the gasoline from my Pa’s overalls, and it was a smell I’d associate with fine home cooking. Finger lickin’ good. That food just ain’t no good if you can’t smell the gas.
Until I was three, I slept in my parents’ room. My two younger brothers shared and Bert had a room to himself, but after Bert was drafted, it made more room for me.
Springfield had a population of approximately four thousand. Four thousand hot sweaty people in a stifling, dusty town. But as of my first day at Springfield High, there was only one person who mattered to me and that was Daisy Jones. Daisy was approximately one inch taller than me and about ten times as pretty – maybe more – and ten times more self-assured. Having three older brothers ain’t the biggest confidence booster, let me tell you, and perhaps it was that one inch that made me look up to her and decide to stay right by her side.
Looking back, my stocky build and plain Jane face were probably the reason why Daisy Jones elected me as her best friend. It doesn’t hurt to look prettier than the girl next to you and she sure was pretty. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t what you call ugly. Now Penny Hansen, she was ugly and in hindsight, perhaps if I’d have picked her as my friend then I’d have looked a damn sight prettier than I was. But like all the children at Springfield High, I was struck by Daisy’s golden hair, delicate freckles, and the confident air with which she strode across that playground.
On the way home from school, we would run through the fields of cotton past the apple orchard, behind Mrs Melrose’s shack, and if we were lucky she’d come out and bring us a fruit ice to quench our dry tongues. We’d return home with sticky raspberry juice dripping from our mouths, thirsty for more. My Ma would be outside in the backyard, hanging out the washing that blew like ships’ sails and Daisy and I would run around the billowing sheets playing tag until it was time to help my Ma prepare the supper for the boys.
I would sit at the table peeling potatoes and my Ma would pop Daisy onto the pedestal by the kitchen window, so she could look out for her Pa returning from work. Daisy’s Ma had run off a number of years ago, leaving her Pa Harold to look after her on his own. By all accounts he had done a damn fine job. That’s if you didn’t count the all-day drinking, the numerous jobs he had been fired from, and the fact he hadn’t spoken more than two words to Daisy since her Ma had left.
So, Daisy would sit staring out onto the dusty road, fluttering her eyelashes, whilst my Ma looked adoringly at Daisy’s golden hair and wistfully wished I could be that little bit prettier, that little bit slimmer, that little bit, little bit …
I didn’t mind my Ma paying Daisy so much attention. Hell, in fact more often than not I would encourage it. The more she looked at Daisy, the less she looked at me. The less she looked at me, the less I did.
You see, I wanted to be the perfect daughter for her but my angular nose, wide shoulders, and the gap between my two front teeth made me less than perfect. But finding Daisy? Finding Daisy, was like discovering the missing piece in the jigsaw. I wasn’t her friend just because she made me laugh, or because she told me how to dress, or even because it made me that little bit more popular. I was Daisy’s friend simply because she filled the hole I was unable to.
We were inseparable. Two peas in a pod, ripe and ready for picking. We’d spend Sundays after church playing hopscotch drawn out on the dusty road, watched by gawky boys who didn’t dare approach us for fear of encountering Daisy’s sharp tongue. She would tease them by hitching up her skirt and jumping as high as she could and the boys would lie on the sandy road in their Sunday best, trying to get the finest view.
I, on the other hand, would skip awkwardly across the numbers, holding my skirt down in fear of being hollered at. After she had got their attention, she’d glance over her shoulder, flutter her eyelashes, and run as far and as fast as she could. I’d trail behind, with my skirt flapping between my legs, giggling, watching the boys clamber up from the road to chase after her. Running across the backyards, through the orchard, past Melrose’s shack and into the dense growth that surrounded the east side of town, we ran until we knew we were safe.
Catching our breath, we’d lie on our backs and look up at the burning blue sky, daring the other to stare directly at the sun for as long as possible. Both blinded by the saffron light, we’d roll around giggling, unable to see each other for the inky squiggles that would appear before our eyes. I’d lie there, blinded, knowing that Daisy was right by my side and it was then, in that moment, that I knew I didn’t want anything to ever change.
What is it they say? If you want make God laugh, tell him about your plans.
CHAPTER 2 (#ulink_2b231982-55ce-501d-94a0-774aa0968cca)
I could see it was turning dark outside and thankfully a light breeze was floating gently through the open window. It’d been a while since the last contraction and I was grateful for the respite. I really didn’t know it were going to hurt so bad. I hadn’t felt pain like that before, not even when I’d tripped up on the back porch when I was four and flew into the door at full speed, cutting my head open.
Mrs Melrose thought a cat had been killed, by the wailing I gave out. I remember running into her backyard, holding my bleeding head, dripping claret droplets all over her scorched lawn. No one was home at our place and I’d remembered seeing Mrs Melrose on my way back from the store. She patched me up good and proper and that ginger ice cream sure helped take the pain away.
I had wandered back the long way from school, so as not to run into anyone on the way home, when the first pains began. I didn’t know what it was and for a minute I thought it might have been the chicken I’d eaten at lunch, but when I felt the dripping on my leg and saw a puddle of water in the dusty road, I knew. I just knew it was time.
Holding my tummy as tight as possible so as to keep everything in, I ran up past the picket fence and up the steps into our empty house. I knew no one was in. The boys would be hanging around the garage with my Pa, and my Ma was no doubt on one of her countless shopping trips with Daisy, preparing for the Annual Independence Parade.
As soon as the recess bell rang, Daisy would dash out of the classroom, before I had tidied my desk, and she’d run to my Ma, who’d be waiting open-armed at the gates for her little girl. I had given up trying to pack up my desk as fast as possible and with the extra weight I was carrying, I was even slower than usual.
Grabbing some pencils from my bag, I wrote on the back of my math book, a note for my Ma and Daisy to find when they returned home. ‘Baby coming. Gone to hospital. See you soon. Love Eli.’ I left a kiss for both of them. ‘Kiss Kiss.’ I ran the cold faucet and, cupping my hands under the water, I tipped it over my face to try and cool me down, but as soon as it had dripped down my face onto my school uniform, I was damn well bursting with heat again.
Checking my pocket for some loose change, I stepped back out into the mid-afternoon heat. Still clinging on to my belly, I made my way to the bus stop praying that I wouldn’t look behind me and see a trickle of water. As I waddled along, pressing my legs as close as could be, I could see as I passed by the general store, him glancing across at me and turning his head as he caught my eye. It had only been nine months previous when I had tasted that raspberry ice melting on my tongue.
Since that day, I have never been so grateful for a bus being on time. More often than not, we’d wait twenty, maybe thirty minutes for the bus to arrive from Mallory and it’d be packed full; but this time, this time not only was it on time, but thankfully it was fairly empty too. I had gotten used to the stares from both strangers and neighbours as they looked me up and down in disgust. Admittedly, a heavily pregnant fourteen-year-old girl is bound to attract remarks, but I had never known that people could be quite so cruel.
As I shuffled carefully onto the bus, with the change becoming clammy in my hand, I spotted Johnny Wilson and Tim Dwight from seventh grade loungin’ at the back of the bus. My stomach dropped so far I looked to the floor to see if anything had come out. Keeping my gaze firmly fixed down, I squeezed my legs together and sat myself as near to the front as possible, in the hope they wouldn’t see me. I ignored the first few times I felt the slight tug on my hair, hoping they’d get bored, but the more I ignored them, the more it seemed to encourage them.
The heat on the bus was excruciating and I tried to open the window, but it just wouldn’t budge. Biting my lip so hard, to stop myself from yelping, I tasted iron on my tongue. The cramps had gotten so bad that the tugging on my hair, which I found out later was gum they had thrown at me, melted into the background. Finding it hard to breathe, I could barely sit up straight and the rising temperature only intensified the faintness I felt.
Clutching on to my insides as tight as possible, I rocked gently to and fro to try and calm the pain. I could hear them; don’t get me wrong. I knew exactly what they were saying, but everything around me was swimming. I tried to count to one hundred, but I don’t think I got any further than seventeen.
‘Hey, fat girl, ya want some of this?’
‘Smelly Eli’s got the fattest belly.’
Now I know you think it’s because I was a coward that I got off and they did too, but I just couldn’t stay in that stinking heat any longer. As soon as I saw the next stop approaching, I leapt up and waddled off the bus as quick as I could.
‘Oh, shit man, she’s wet herself.’
‘That’s disgustin’, fatty.’
They shouted more, but thankfully the bus doors shut to and, as all the windows were closed, the only taunting left was Johnny silently mooning me from the back of the bus. As I staggered to sit down in the gutter, with two blocks ’til the hospital, I could feel the warm bloodied fluid trickling down my legs, staining my cotton socks.
*
Day had turned to night and there were still no sign of Daisy or my Ma. I knew they’d had a lot to do. Ma was in charge of all the girls entering the pageant and Daisy had only been too glad to help.
I’d asked the nurses who kept checking in on me if perhaps they had turned up and had been sent the wrong way, but they all shook their heads solemnly, felt my pulse, checked my temperature, gave me some oxygen, and left the room. I don’t think the pain could have got any worse and as much as I tried to breathe, it was becoming more and more difficult.
The nurses were fairly kind. I knew what they were thinking: the same as everyone else; but at least they waited until they weren’t in earshot to express their thoughts. One in particular seemed to take a shine to me and held my hand as I puffed and panted. Her hand seemed so soft in mine and I shall never forget how gently she stroked my fevered brow with a cold wet flannel.
I hadn’t meant to cry but it felt so good to be shown such tenderness, when I was in so much pain. I had tried to be so brave, so that when my Ma turned up, she wouldn’t think I was a crybaby, but I swear it hurt so bad I couldn’t help it. Every time the doors swung open, I glanced up in the hope that it would be her.
I knew she probably would have had to prepare the boys’ supper before coming out and I guess that would take a little time, but I could see the clock on the wall had gone eleven in the evening. I wasn’t sure what time the buses ran until, especially with tomorrow being July Fourth an’ all and I was usually in bed by nine, but I thought they must run to and fro ’til pretty late. The shift workers from the mill caught it most of the night. Perhaps the note I had left had blown off the table in the breeze; perhaps something awful had happened to her. I know, I know, in my heart of hearts I knew, but you have to trust me on this one: this wasn’t the time for facing home truths.
One truth I couldn’t hide from was Daisy. As quick as day had turned to night, so had Daisy. You gotta understand that I was as surprised as her, so it’s not like I could prepare myself for breaking the news, but it seemed to me she took it the worst out of all of us. Thankfully her and my Ma were there for one another. They proved to be a great support for each other. Solid as a rock. Cold as stone.
I don’t know whether it was because it was such a shock, but from the moment she found out, from the moment anyone found out, it was as though they couldn’t talk to me. Not only did they think I had become deaf, but it seemed as though they thought I had been struck dumb as well. From spending every possible moment together, Daisy couldn’t get away from me fast enough. The girl who had teased the boys, skipping hopscotch with her skirt held high, had suddenly became so prudish that she could no longer look her friend in the eye.
I was the elephant in the room.
Not even Daisy had asked who the boy could have been. She simply raised her eyebrows and shook her head, taking my Ma’s hand in hers. No mention of the fact she’d left me alone to while away the afternoons, whilst she hung out with the boys on the promise I wouldn’t say a word. No mention of the fact I’d often smell booze on her breath and I’d hide her in my room, ’til she passed out and then finally awakened, her eyelashes aflutter, just in time for tea.
Don’t get me wrong, my Ma had begged and pleaded to know who he was, but as I curled up sobbing on my bed, the grazes still on my knees, I couldn’t bear to pick the scab. I was desperate for it to heal.
It had gone two in the morning, when the pain I believed couldn’t get any worse took it upon itself to prove me very, very wrong. I tried to hold off pressing the emergency button at the side of my bed for as long as I could – as the last thing I wanted was to be was more trouble – but to say I were scared doesn’t come close.
Within minutes of the alarm going off, doctors and nurses flocked into the ward, and I guess taking one look at my face they knew something was wrong. Now, I ain’t under the impression that they didn’t care, but I think it was more the thought of a dead fourteen-year-old girl on their hands that made them rush in so fast. Even in my half-conscious state and not exactly being experienced with going through labour, I knew something wasn’t quite right.
I don’t know how many hours had passed, or how many times they had changed the drip, but I knew it had been a while, as it had become light again. In the end, they had to cut me up right there and then and pull you out. As soon as they lifted my baby girl from my tummy, I thought about my Ma and how she chased the matron from the room with the surgical scissors and I knew – when I saw the pinky-blue little girl, my little girl, in the nurse’s arms – exactly how she felt.
Wanting to hold you in my arms, I leaned forward to take you. I held you for a moment, your fingers curled around mine, but before I knew it, the nurse had snipped the cord and walked right out of the room, taking my baby with her. As she walked away, I stared at the door, and there she was, my Ma, staring right at me; but as soon as I caught her eye, she looked away.
The nurse who’d taken you soon returned and I tried to steady myself so that I could hold my little girl, but her arms were empty. In her hand she held only a clipboard and pen and she handed them to my Ma. Hesitating only momentarily, my Ma signed whatever the nurse had passed her. Without giving me a second look, my Ma turned on her heels and walked away.
CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_8750ad3e-ed0c-5abb-b69f-a4b06ef20086)
‘I saw her.’
Tommy was already halfway up the stairs when Eli called to him from the kitchen. She should have worn a groove into the floor with the amount of pacing she’d done, waiting for him to get on home. Eli stood sweating in her cornflower dress, stinking of pickles, the Alabama spring already beginning to rise.
‘I think I saw her.’ Eli’s voice faltered a little.
‘Who?’ Tommy continued on up.
‘I think I saw her, Tommy. Today. At the store.’
Her husband poked his head over the banister at the top. He was dressed in his usual oil-stained blue overalls, black-greased fingers clutching on to the railing.
‘Who you talkin’ ’bout?
Eli felt her eyes glass over.
Tommy paused on the stairs and walked back down.
‘What’s goin’ on? Saw who?’
Eli stared at Tommy, her vision blurred.
‘I went to the store an’ …’ She lifted her bandaged hand.
‘What the hell? What you do?’
‘Nothin’. I slipped. Tommy, it were her; I’m sure of it.’
Tommy stood, a smear of grease or something on his stubbled chin, lost for words.
‘I know what ya’re thinking, but she were there. In front o’ me,’ Eli said.
Tommy shook his head, obviously trying to compute what the hell was going on. He walked over to the fridge and grabbed a tin of beer. Eli followed him.
‘Just listen.’ Eli placed her bandaged hand against his chest.
Tommy clicked open the tin and took a long slurp.
‘I was marinadin’ the chicken this morning, ’n’ I were just going through everythin’ for tonight, an’ I was cleanin’ and I remembered I didn’t have any pickles, an’ you know how Pa loves his pickles, so I drove over to the store –’
‘You drove all the way to the store for pickles?’
‘You ain’t listenin’, Tommy.’
‘I’m listenin’ all right. You’re tellin’ me you drove all that way for a jar of darn pickles. You know how much gas –’
‘Tommy, stop. I drove over – I don’t know what I were thinkin’ – somethin’ ’bout the marinade or such like and I were runnin’ late, my mind elsewhere. I slipped on somethin’ or other on the floor –’
‘Where?’ Tommy took another slurp of his beer.
‘At the store. The pickles, they just flew everywhere –’
‘Could sue them for that.’
Eli took a deep breath. ‘The next thing you know, I’m on the floor, lying in picklin’ vinegar, my hand all cut up on the glass an’ there she were. Right in front of me. She bandaged my hand, Tommy.’ She held out her arm, her last words pronounced.
Tommy stared at her, incredulous.
‘She were there, Tommy. I’m sure of it.’
‘Sure you didn’t hit your head?’
‘Tommy, I think it were her.’ Eli felt her eyes glass over again.
‘Honey, calm down; it’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.’
Eli shook her head and said nothing.
‘It’s been what …’ Tommy furrowed his brow, calculating the time ‘… thirty-two years, an’ you think ya saw her, jus’ like that.’
Eli raised her eyebrows towards him and looked away.
‘Look, I know.’ Tommy raised his hand to calm her. ‘But think about it, you’ve never seen her –’
‘That’s not true. I held her,’ Eli said. She snapped her jaws together.
‘I know. Not what I meant.’ Tommy wiped the sweat on his brow with his upper arm. ‘I’m just sayin’, think about it. You’ve not seen her … since … hell, since she were born. You don’t know what she look like and why in hell’s name would you go bumpin’ into her in the goddamn store? She don’t even live in this state no more.’
Eli looked towards the floor. A tear snaked its way down her cheek.
‘I was sure it was her,’ Eli said, almost to herself.
Tommy took the last swig of his beer, crushed the can, and threw it in the trash.
‘It looked like her.’
‘Jesus, Eli, you don’t know what she look like.’ Tommy laughed.
Eli’s eyes welled up. ‘She looked like me.’
Tommy stifled his laugh this time. ‘Honey, it weren’t her.’ He leaned back into the fridge and grabbed another tin of beer.
‘You think I just paddled up from crazy creek, don’t you?’
‘I think you just got yourself all worked up over nothin’.’ He rubbed his hand against her arm. He looked at the marinated chicken on the sideboard. ‘What time they say they’re comin’?’
‘Just after six.’ Eli’s mouth crumpled at the side.
Tommy walked towards the stairs and turned. ‘Sure you’re up to it?’
Eli frowned.
‘Mean, your hand. Don’t need it looked at?’
‘Tommy, they’re comin’. It’s Pa’s birthday. Go get yourself cleaned up.’
Tommy shrugged and lumbered up the stairs and stopped halfway. ‘Seein’ you bandaged up like that makes me think of ol’ stumpy.’
Eli couldn’t help but smile. She shook her head as Tommy headed up to his bath.
Stumpy had been a raccoon Eli had found one afternoon soon after they married. It was rattling around in a trashcan, thrashing about, unable to get out. She’d been out in the yard, pinning up some laundry, when she heard something scratching against the metal. Thinking it was some big ol’ rat, she tipped the can over with a stick and ran to the other side of the yard.
But instead, this raccoon limped out and stared at her. No running away, nothing. Eli stood, wet washing in her hands, and stared right back. Neither of them moved an inch. Eli tiptoed towards it and crouched down. Still it didn’t move. Eli had heard tales about how vicious raccoons could bite and tried to shoo it away with her stick, but it just stared up at her, its black eyes shining against the sunlight.
Eli peered closer. Its back leg was all bent up and out of shape. No wonder it hadn’t run anywhere. It must have broken its leg when it fell into the trashcan. She couldn’t bear to see it injured and so she went into the house, dug out some potted meat from the pantry, and left a plate of it out in the yard right next to the raccoon. It ate it all up and still didn’t move.
Eli spent the afternoon perched on a chair, just watching this miserable thing staring up at her, limping around in circles. There was no point taking it to a vet; they’d just laugh at her and tell her to shoot it. So instead, Eli found some kindling out back, some linen bandages in the kitchen, and made the raccoon a splint.
Tommy’s face was a picture when he got on home. She nursed that raccoon back to health every day. Months later, when she went into the yard to feed it, it was gone. Never to be seen again. Sometimes in the night, when they heard clattering outside, one of them would say: ‘There goes ol’ Stumpy.’ And laugh ’til their bellies hurt.
Eli stood in the kitchen, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration, trying to recall everything that had happened today. Her heart thumped against her chest. She glanced towards her bandaged hand and shook her head. Of course she was confused. Why after all this time would she think it was her daughter? Silly ol’ goat.
CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_dd1aff46-e116-54bc-9fc5-564440ae7053)
I hadn’t returned to school after you’d come and gone. I don’t think anyone noticed, or if they did, they didn’t let on. No notes from the teachers to my parents informing them of my absence. No meetings in the headmaster’s room. No room at the inn.
It took approximately two and a quart’ hours to walk from the cotton field along the creek, down to the back of the mill. I’d timed it, so that by the time I got to the creek, I could cut across the water, into the clearing, and lie there looking up at the sky, timing myself how long I could stare at the sun. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. Daisy and I hadn’t got much further than two Mississippis last year, but I wanted to show her I could do it.
Bert had told us once that if we could get to six Mississippis that we’d be closer to the Lord and He would grant any wish we wanted. But no matter how fast I counted, I still turned my head at two Mississippis. If I could get a second closer to my wish, I knew it’d be OK. But the bright light that penetrated my pupils forced me to look away and however many times I tried, however fast I counted, however much I wished, I just knew that Jesus wasn’t looking.
I’d lie there until the sun had gone over the back of the woods and then I’d wander along the water, taking off my shoes and socks, strolling through the brook. I knew that if I walked at a steady pace, then I’d get to Jefferson Hill just before lunch, where I’d usually climb up.
If you stood on the very top, you’d be able to see the school across the town, where everyone would be playing. You couldn’t really make out faces, but I knew where she usually hung out and I could kind of see Daisy with a couple of the other girls. They’d play hopscotch until the bell had rung and then dart back inside for the afternoon lessons. As the lunch bell rang and the last dot disappeared from my view, I’d gaze across the houses, the fields, way beyond the town, and I’d search for you. I knew you were out there, bundled up tight in somebody’s arms, clutching someone’s finger. Not mine.
My breasts still leaked with milk, aching for your lips. I’d look out and think of you, carried across some state or other, where my Ma said you’d gone. I peered as far as the eye could see and I imagined your tiny fingers, reaching out for mine – our hearts engorged, my blood running through your veins.
I felt the sweltering heat beat on my back. I paddled through the creek to cool me down. When I crossed back over to the other bank, my stomach would always roll over, partly from hunger ’cause I never took anything to eat, and partly at the thought of returning to the town, where people could barely lift their heads to look at me.
I’d spend my days skulking around the house, keeping from under my Ma’s feet. Suppertimes became more silent and the sense of my family’s detachment became stronger as each day passed. My brothers would continue in their boisterous manner, teasing my Ma and arm-wrestling my Pa, whilst I sat silently waiting for them to tickle me, ruffle my hair, and do the things they used to do.
However, I knew deep down inside the disgrace they felt. I noticed how my Ma would wait until my Pa had left for work and then she would often catch the bus to the next town for her groceries, to avoid folk whispering the way they do.
Don’t get me wrong, Pa Bell was still a strong presence in Springfield, and I’d heard them congratulate and backslap him right there in front of me, about his good Christian values and how Jesus would be proud of them supporting me the way they did. It was my parents’ faith that kept my room open for the time being. Not faith in their daughter, but in the Son of God. Thank the Lord, for the roof over my head. Good Christian values are the bread and butter of society.
But I saw in my Ma’s eyes the shame and humiliation I had brought to their home, and no matter how many Mississippis I counted, I knew I’d be blind before my wishes would be granted.
I decided to set my alarm a good hour before the house awoke. The sun had already begun to rise and I could hear the faint sounds of the mill in the quiet of the morn. Tiptoeing downstairs, I shut the kitchen door behind me, opened the window for a little breeze, and set to. I had helped my Ma prepare breakfast over the years, but I had never cooked it all alone. I wanted today to be just perfect.
Perching on the chair, I reached to the back of the cupboard and pulled out the white linen cloth that my Ma used for Sunday best. I laid it out on the table. Setting out the plates and cutlery as quietly as I could, I then hurriedly prepared their coffee and juice, when I heard the first stirrings upstairs. I knew the creaking of the boards meant that my Ma had awoken, so anxiously I poured her coffee into the hand-painted china cup her aunt had left her, brushed my apron down, and waited to hear her gently pitter-patter down the oak stairs. Despite the sun that was streaming through the window, I sensed it must’ve been a little chilly that morning, as I’m sure my hand began to shake.
I knew I’d surprised her, because as soon as she opened the kitchen door she stopped dead in her tracks. Offering her the cup and saucer, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face. I hoped she’d take the cup from my hand, so that I could open the window further to get some more fresh air. But after what seemed like a minute, she snatched it from me and poured it down the sink. After gently washing the china cup, she dried it and placed it back in the top cupboard, where it had sat for almost ten years. Whipping the cloth from the table, she re-laid it with the usual grass mats I had left in the drawer, and without a word she prepared the boys’ breakfast.
After the boys had gone to work and the quiet of the house rested heavily on my Ma’s shoulders, we worked through that day’s chores. I offered to sweep the front of the house, so as not to get in her way. I spent the morning clearing up as much of the dusty road – that had drifted onto the porch – as possible. No matter how gently you swept the broom along the wooden slats, the grit would dance up into the air and into your eyes, causing them to itch and water.
Nearing lunchtime, I saw through the window that my Ma was preparing my Pa and brothers’ food, which she would take over with a bottle of cool soda for each of them. Creatures of habit, my brothers would close up the garage at midday and sit in the shade eating their subs with their oily hands, playing cards, day in, day out.
My Ma tapped on the window and beckoned me in. Resting the broom handle on the doorframe, I skipped into the house, hoping she had poured me an ice-cold soda too, so that I could wash away the dust that had covered the back of my throat; but instead she passed me my brothers’ and Pa’s lunch bag and told me to hurry over there before they left for the auctions.
Grabbing the bag and running across the back of town as fast as I could, my eyes began to water more. Through the blur, I could see the garage gates still open. Situated between the launderette and the wrecker’s yard, the old rusting sign ‘Bell’s Autos’ protruded into the blue sky like a beacon. I could see my Pa’s pickup wasn’t parked outside, but peering around the side of the entrance, I spotted a pair of dirty overalls poking out the end of a car.
Assuming it was Bert or Samuel – as my Pa usually took Payton out to the auctions to show him the ropes – I gently tapped the greasy feet with my shoe and placed their bag of food on top of the car bonnet. Everywhere I looked was cluttered with tools and cans and papers. Expecting Bert to huff and puff his way from under the car, as though I’d stopped him from ever mending it, I backed out of the yard, ready to run all the way home.
‘They’re still up at the auction in Jonestown. Went this morning instead.’
I didn’t recognize the voice at first, and only when I turned and saw his bright red hair, did I blush from head to toe. I remembered my Pa had mentioned taking on an extra pair of hands. Since the mechanics in Mallory had shut down in the spring, Pa had been inundated with repairs. Despite him having my brothers to help, there still appeared to be enough work for more.
I remember I stuttered a lot and tried to think of something smart to say, but seeing as it had been a while since someone had actually spoken to me, I merely looked down to my shoes with my blurred vision and awkwardly rubbed my eyes.
‘Got summat in your eye? Want me to take a look?’
I think as he stepped forward, I stepped back and tripped over my own darn feet. Gaining my balance again, I pointed over to the bag of food I’d left on the bonnet and hoped he’d realize why I’d come over.
He turned to see what I was pointing at, then he looked back at me and smiled, and I tell you, the dryness in my throat almost trapped my swallow like a cobra. I hadn’t had a smile from anyone in months and my heart just about knew it. As he stepped further forward, I remember hearing the pickup nearing, but I didn’t turn to look as I just wanted to see his grin for a moment longer before it disappeared. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three …
I should have known they’d toot the horn, but it still didn’t stop me from jumping out of my skin. I heard them all laughing and jeering as per usual, as they tumbled out of the truck. All those times when I was growing up, I’d hate them ruffling my hair or picking me up and swinging me around as they clowned around in front of each other, but my Lord, how I missed it now.
As soon as I saw Tommy turn back to the car, I spun around and ran from the garage, taking his smile with me. Skipping along the main drag, past Mrs Kelland – who when not peering into her gin bottle, washed the town’s dirty laundry at the launderette – and back towards the house.
Pausing for breath, I finally managed to swallow. Glancing back over my shoulder, I looked up to the sky and saw the garage’s rusty sign shadowing the piercing sun. Taking a deep breath, I watched and waited until it popped back out from behind the sign, and I continued back on home.
CHAPTER 5 (#ulink_991ab742-c58b-5a5d-b7eb-68877f6587f0)
Tommy lay in the bath, his pinky-white tummy protruding out of the soapy water. His breath was shallow. His hands trembled. How could this be? He didn’t think for a second it could be her, but Eli believed it. How in hell’s name had she got that idea into her head? Why now, after all this time?
No, he’d seen her like this before. Years ago. But it just seemed so ridiculous. What had she said? She ‘looked’ like her? Why would she even think that? She didn’t know what the hell she looked like. But, what if it had been her? God no, now he was being a fool.
Tommy sat up. The water splashed over the top. Small foamy puddles collected on the wooden floor. He took a slurp of beer. He really didn’t want Eli getting herself wound up again. And not tonight. It was bad enough having to have her family over for supper, never mind with this on her mind.
Tommy could have done without them here. Didn’t he spend enough time with them at the garage? He shook his head at the thought of Eli’s Ma. Oh, he coped with her all right. He’d put up with her for the past God knows how many years, but he hated the way she always found a way of putting Eli down. Wasn’t she tired of it? He wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it half the time. And why Eli put up with it, he couldn’t understand. After everything, even now, she tried to please her Ma.
Tommy respected Pa Bell. A man of few words, like himself. He’d given him a break at the garage all those years back, but still, a dinner with Trudy lauding something or other over Eli made him shake his head.
He heard Eli mooching around downstairs. The smell of fried chicken wafted through the crack under the door. Did she realize how absurd she was being? He hated what had happened to her. Hated it. And he hated himself for it even more.
Tommy leaned back down in the tub and splashed warm water over his face. The thought made him sick even now. It was never going away. No matter how many years passed, how much they tried, there was no denying she was out there. Somewhere. But to think Eli had bumped into her, just like that. It was crazy talk.
Tommy knew Eli hadn’t forgotten her. Of course she hadn’t forgotten her. He hadn’t forgotten her. But they had managed to work their way through these years, without even mentioning her. What use was it? She was gone.
But gone where?
How could Eli not go through life, glancing at faces, wondering if that was her? He’d seen the way she was around children when they were younger. Hell, hadn’t he done the same? Not so much looking for her, but the thought of what could have been. Jesus, even now, it hurt. Tommy whacked his hand down into the water. They should have had kids. A whole bunch of them. But no, life seemed fit to punish them, and for what? Eli would have made an incredible Ma. Look at the way she treated him, treated his own Ma when she was alive.
Tommy thought about all the years gone by. How out of the blue, he’d seen Eli go rigid, the colour draining from her face when she saw some news item or other and leaned towards the television, staring at some random young woman. She hadn’t noticed he’d noticed, too tied up with thoughts jangling around her head, wondering if it was her. But he had, and he’d seen how anxious she would get for weeks after, how distracted she would be until finally, she’d be back to normal again.
They never talked about it. Hell, he wouldn’t even know what to say. He’d come home sometimes and see her eyes were red, but even when he mooted something was up, she’d snap at him and tell him it was just the dust. So he just put it down to ‘women’s things’ and nothing more would be said.
Yes, it’d be just one of those times. It’d be forgotten about, just like the others.
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