Chapter 21
I slept late the next morning, and when I opened my eyes it was unusually bright inside the tent. Remembering the previous night, I crawled out from under my covers, and hurried to put on the dress given to me by Joe Calhoun, saving my new ones for the singing. I shivered in a cold air, knocking a thin layer of ice off the top of the water in the washbowl. Winter was finally making its way here. I splashed my face and barely took the time to dry it before I ducked out of the tent to see Laci sitting beside Momma in front of a fire. Papa sat with them, hands between his knees, looking grumpy.
Hesitant, I sat down and said, “What’s wrong?”
Momma said, “Mr. Cooper come by this morning.”
Mr. Cooper had already come. Papa glared over the campfire at me, and Laci got to rocking, and it took me no more than seconds to understand they knowed what happened.
I chose my words with care, as Papa continued to scowl in my direction. “Diablo, the fire eater? He plays different music than what we listen to, on a phonograph. She heard the music.”
Papa honed in on the parts I left out, as I should’ve known he would.
He said, “You mean you girls went off last night. After we went to sleep.”
I proceeded with even more caution. “We was only gone a few minutes.”
Papa shifted his gaze to Momma, his expression conveying disbelief.
Momma shrugged at him and said, “You’re the one taught her to be so independent, William.”
I tried to explain further. “Laci heard the song being played, and learned it like she learns all the songs she knows.”
Papa considered what I’d said, and turned to Laci, “Laci?”
Laci kept on rocking.
Papa said, “Laci, play the new song you learned last night.”
She turned her head away from him, hair falling over her face as if to hide.
I went into the tent and come out with her fiddle and handed it to her. She laid it in her lap.
“Laci, won’t you play the new song for Momma and Papa?”
She bent forward like she seen something on the ground.
Momma said, “Leave her be. I reckon we’ll hear it when she’s ready.”
Papa said, “Might as well go on to the cookhouse and get breakfast, it’s gettin’ late.”
Laci tucked the fiddle under her chin and began playing the song, sounding like somebody we didn’t know. It lasted several minutes, and when it was over she went and put the fiddle back in the tent.
Papa stared after her. “Ain’t that something, Ann?”
Momma appeared just as surprised.
She managed to say, “It sure is.”
Papa said, “I’m gonna have another chat with Cooper. If he insists on her playing longer, he’s gonna have to pay more.”
I said, “She won’t want to play on stage by herself.”
“Mr. Cooper says that’s what he wants. If I tell him no, he could tell us to pack our stuff and get on down the road.”
“What if she won’t do it, though? You wanted her to play and she didn’t want to. She only did it when she wanted to. Laci knows more than we think she knows.”
Momma raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Wallis Ann?”
“She waited and when Papa said we should go eat, then she played the song.”
“Your sister’s done things like that all her life.”
I wanted to tell Momma what I’d seen long before we come here. I didn’t get the chance because when Laci come out of the tent, I didn’t say anything more. There was something uncommon, something altered, and it made her seem a bit like a stranger.
Papa said, “Let’s get on to the cookhouse.”
When Paulie seen us enter, he said, “I was about to give up and start on dinner. Got a few sausages. A few biscuits. Some corn mush, that’s about it.”
Papa said, “Don’t matter, whatever you got is fine.”
He filled plates and handed Momma and Papa theirs. They went to our usual table and Paulie served me and Laci. As usual we ended up with an extra helping of corn mush.
“Here, let me put you some extra sorghum on it for you and your sister. That’ll help you last till dinnertime.”
Ever since I’d met Paulie, I’d thought if he’d been about twenty years younger, he might have taken a shine to me the way he was always winking and giving me extras. That changed in the next instant when he looked at Laci. He motioned at me, secret like. I leaned towards him, hoping he won’t about to make me feel uncomfortable by admitting he had taken a fancy towards me. I had no reason to worry.
He reached into his apron pocket to pull out a slender, silver harmonica, and nodded towards Laci, and said, “I got this here for you to give to your pretty sister. I’ve been coming to hear her play every night, and I thought maybe she’d like to learn this.”
I felt myself draw up. Even Paulie was knocked silly by Laci. I took the harmonica from him, and without a word, I spun on my heels, mumbling my thanks. We went to the table, and I slid the harmonica across the table to Laci. I could sense Paulie’s eyes on us. Laci took it and turned it over in her hands, then set it on the table and started eating.
Momma said, “Who gave you that?”
I mumbled, “Paulie.”
“Is something wrong, Wallis Ann?”
“No, Momma. I’m hungry, that’s all.”
“Well, eat your breakfast.”
I glanced around as I ate, looking for Clayton. Most everyone was already gone, off to start preparing rides, shows and games for anyone who would come. Visits to the shows was light during the weekdays while folks worked their farms, or worked in town. After suppertime, things picked up, and you could hear the screams of folks on the rides, and the clanging noises of games, and bells when there was a winner. We hurried to finish, and as we got ready to leave, Laci left the harmonica behind on the table. I got it, and followed everyone out. When we got to the path leading to our tents, Papa hurried off to talk to Mr. Cooper about Laci.
Momma said, “Let’s wash some things.”
“Sure, Momma.”
I give Laci the harmonica once more, and she turned it over and over, then laid it down again. Shrugging, I went to haul water, running after the water truck at one point to get extra. That was how we spent the rest of our morning and on into the afternoon, washing what we slept on, underthings, and about anything else we could get our hands on. It felt good to work. I missed the physical labor at Stampers Creek where every day began and ended with more than we could get done in a day. Work always made you feel like you’d accomplished something. After we finished, I fussed around inside the tent, moving mine and Laci’s cots from one spot to another, and then back again. I felt restless, still troubled about Clayton and wishing I could catch sight of him somehow. Later in the afternoon, I heard a familiar voice outside the tent.
I looked out of the flap to see who it was, and spotted Big Bertha, dropped in for another unexpected visit. Momma, ever the politest of hostesses, dug out the coffeepot we’d used at Stampers Creek, and made some coffee. I decided to stay in the tent and leave Momma to handle things. I picked up the new harmonica and puffed into it. It made a honking sound, like a goose.Whatever in the world had Paulie been thinking? Big Bertha, whose voice matched her size, got to talking about nothing really. She seemed kind a lonely. Momma listened to her go on about this and that, and then she started on her husband again. Momma made appropriate comments and noises until, finally, Big Bertha heaved herself to her feet, preparing to leave.
She said, “I’m thinking about quittin’ this place.”
Momma said, “Really? Why?”
Big Bertha snorted.
I peeked out and her blond curls bobbed with indignation. “Why? How would you like it if people come simply to stare at you, while laughing and poking their fingers into you, like you won’t a person? What if you heard them say ugly things, even when they know you can hear? Things like, my God, she looks bigger’n the biggest hog I own. What you reckon she eats, an entire cow?”
Momma shook her head and said, “I reckon I wouldn’t like it one bit. How long have you been doing this?”
Big Bertha’s shoulders drooped and she said, “I don’t know. Seems like all my life, but probably ten years. Thing is, when Walter was alive, I didn’t care so much what people thought. Now he’s gone, I got nobody cares about me, my feelings nor nothing.”
Momma patted Big Bertha’s arm. “Try to only think about the good times you had with him. As far as leaving, maybe you ought to. If you’re not happy?”
Big Bertha pulled a handkerchief from somewhere within the folds of her clothing, and swiped at her eyes.
She flipped a hand and said, “Where would I go? Somebody like me? Ain’t got no family left. I reckon folks here is about as good a family as I’m able to have at this point. I won’t ever have nobody love me again like Walter. You know I was only foolin’ about the stew, right? I’d never hurt Walter. I loved him.”
Momma said, “Of course you wouldn’t. And sure, this seems like a nice-enough place, you have friends here. I mean, folks seem nice enough and all.”
Big Bertha said, “Stick around, you’ll see.”
Which could a meant anything. Big Bertha was puzzling, her moods swinging like a sickle. Momma nodded and smiled at her, but I could read her look and it said, You’re crazy as a Bessie bug.
Big Bertha said, “It’s getting on late. Thank you for listening to me complain and whine. I probably shouldn’t have dumped on you. I barely know you.”
Momma smiled again. “Don’t you worry none. It’s fine.”
Big Bertha waddled off, and we could hear her sort a mumbling, arguing with herself as she made her way to the other side of the yard.
I stepped out of the tent and said to Momma, “Big Bertha sure is something else.”
“Losing the one person who loves you is hard because love is healing, it can take away hurts like that. It can make you see things differently.”
Momma’s words got me thinking hard about Clayton. He’d caused feelings I’d never had, and a considerable amount of anxiety seeing him so close to Laci. But, was that love? I won’t sure. Papa would’ve said I was too young to be thinking on such things, though some girls my age who’d come to school didn’t never show back up again because they’d gone off and got hitched. Or worse. I looked up and seen Papa hurrying back from seeing Mr. Cooper, his face all knotted up like he had a headache. He plopped down on the stool Big Bertha had vacated.
Momma said, “What did he say?”
Papa shook his head. “He’s the boss man. I tried to tell him it’d be good to have a bit more money seeing as Laci was going to be working extra, and what you reckon he said? No. Said if I want to earn more money, I could help clean up after the show animals. Said she won’t going to have to play long enough to justify it.Yet, he wants her learning more songs.”
Momma’s tone was incredulous. “That sure don’t seem fair. How’s she supposed to do that? She can’t be going off to some stranger’s by herself.”
“That young buck Clayton was there and said he’d take care of it. Got a way to hook up that contraption near his tent. He said, Laci could learn that a way. Boss man said have Wallis Ann go too. Said he’s seen all three of them roaming about together, so it ought to not be a problem. We can’t afford to lose this job. Anyway, he’ll be here shortly.”
I looked at Papa, my heart slipping a beat. “Who?”
Papa said, “Who else?”
I could only guess. A moment later we heard whistling and Clayton strode towards us with a smile. The sight of him caused a tiny lurch in my chest. Love for someone outside of my family was unknown, like all the other new experiences I’d had around him. The taste of cotton candy. The Ferris wheel. The sideshows with strange people inhabiting tiny tents, their particular oddities on display. Clayton stopped whistling when he seen the look on Papa’s face, while Momma ignored him, going inside their tent and closing the flap.
Without a word, I went and got Laci, who still sat on her cot like she was tired. “Come on with me, Laci.”
We left out of the tent to see Clayton waiting awkwardly, looking everywhere but at Papa.
Papa more or less growled at him. “Have them back in an hour.”
Clayton hesitated, and dared to ask, “What if she ain’t learned a new song by then? Mr. Cooper . . .”
Papa said, “One hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
We started for his tent without a word between us. It won’t like it had been, with the previous easygoing way we’d enjoyed one another’s company. A mood hovered, stifling and bitter. I walked fast, hurrying, and Clayton kept pace with me easy enough, saying nothing about my silence.
When we come close to his tent, he cleared his throat. “Is something the matter, Wallis Ann? You seem . . . mad.”
“I’m not mad.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I got the phonograph and a different record. Let’s see what Laci can do.”
“If you say so.”
I heard some noise from Clayton. I didn’t bother to look at him. The phonograph sat on a similar wooden table as the night before. Laci went and sat beside it like she was aware of the purpose of being there.
I was about to tell her anyhow when Clayton spoke up. “Laci, listen to this new song. See if you can play it.”
He started the record. I sat on a nearby stool and pretended to be looking elsewhere while secretly watching him watching her, looking for what I don’t know. A special look? Laci rarely ever looked anyone in the eyes, except me, Momma, Papa and Seph when he was here. She listened to the song playing, her head tilted to the side.
Clayton told me about the record he’d selected. “It’s another Bach song. It’s called Sonata Number Two in A Minor. It’s a pretty long one.”
I nodded, then sat festering, wishing I could simply fade away, yet the music and watching Laci learn kept my attention. It was, in a word, exquisite. Clayton seemed to forget I was even there, spellbound as Laci worked through the music, and in that way, I guess I got my wish.
I’d disappeared.