where she’d gone to live after leaving Mitford. Her grandmother had cooked the wedding feast, which was topped off with fresh peach cobbler. “Why eat cake when you can eat cobbler?” was what her grandmother always said.
Her years with Moses had been the happiest years of her life, next to those with Miss Sadie. But the Lord had taken Moses home when he was just thirty-nine, and then He’d taken her precious boy in a terrible wreck, leaving her a grandson living in Los Angeles....
She looked out to the green orchard and nodded her head and smiled. “Moses Marshall,” she said, “I invite you to sit wit’ me at th’ weddin,’ an’ don’ be pinchin’ and kissin’ on me in front of th’ good Lord an’ ever’body. . . .”
Dooley Barlowe was trying to be happy, but he figured he didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He felt around inside himself, around the area of his heart, maybe, and tried to see if he could make things seem good and right about Father Tim and Cynthia getting married. He’d seen what happened when people lived together under the same roof: They yelled and screamed and fought and said terrible things to each other. He’d seen his daddy go at his mama with a butcher knife more than once, and after his daddy ran off, he’d seen his mama leave for two and three days at a time and depend on him to mind the kids and feed them without any money to buy stuff with.
He remembered stealing a pork loin from the grocery store and getting it home and not knowing how to cook it. He had dropped it in a pot of boiling water with oatmeal and let it cook ’til the water boiled out on the stove, then he carved the meat in five chunks and they tried to eat it and got so sick, he thought they’d all die in the night. Once he’d stolen five cans of creamed corn, so they could all have exactly the same thing and not fight over who got what and how much, and the store manager had caught him and jumped on him really bad, but he’d let him have the corn, saying if he ever did it again he’d be sent to the penitentiary. A woman who overheard the commotion had gone and gotten a can of Harvard beets, a loaf of Wonder bread, a pound of M&Ms, and a quart of buttermilk and gave the items to him in a plastic bag. He remembered that he couldn’t stomach buttermilk and the kids wouldn’t drink it, either, but they couldn’t bear to throw it out and it sat in the refrigerator for maybe a year.
He didn’t like to think about these things, he wanted to forget everything that had ever happened before he came here, but sometimes he couldn’t. He especially wanted to forget about his little sister, Jessie, because thinking of her being gone and nobody knowing where made him want to cry, and he tried to keep his face as hard and tight and straight as possible so nobody would ever be able to tell what he was thinking.
Sometimes, at night especially, he remembered trying to help his mama when she was drunk, and would suddenly feel a great love for her welling up in him. Then he’d be angry with himself for being stupid, and feel the old and shameful desire for her to die.
Things were just fine for him and Father Tim; he felt safe, finally, like things would be all right. But now he didn’t know what would happen. He liked Cynthia, but what if she didn’t like him, what if she tried to get him to leave or go back to his mother, if anybody could even find his mother? Or what if Cynthia tried to be his mother? His heart felt cold at such a thought. He wanted his own mother, even if he did hate her and wish he would never see her again as long as he lived.
He was glad that Barnabas came to his room and jumped on the foot of his bed, because it felt good to have a friend. Besides, Barnabas would never tell anyone that he was crying and couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER SIX
The Letter
H is heart was nearly bursting with a kind of longing, though he had no idea why. After all, he was blessed with everything this
Her years with Moses had been the happiest years of her life, next to those with Miss Sadie. But the Lord had taken Moses home when he was just thirty-nine, and then He’d taken her precious boy in a terrible wreck, leaving her a grandson living in Los Angeles....
She looked out to the green orchard and nodded her head and smiled. “Moses Marshall,” she said, “I invite you to sit wit’ me at th’ weddin,’ an’ don’ be pinchin’ and kissin’ on me in front of th’ good Lord an’ ever’body. . . .”
Dooley Barlowe was trying to be happy, but he figured he didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. He felt around inside himself, around the area of his heart, maybe, and tried to see if he could make things seem good and right about Father Tim and Cynthia getting married. He’d seen what happened when people lived together under the same roof: They yelled and screamed and fought and said terrible things to each other. He’d seen his daddy go at his mama with a butcher knife more than once, and after his daddy ran off, he’d seen his mama leave for two and three days at a time and depend on him to mind the kids and feed them without any money to buy stuff with.
He remembered stealing a pork loin from the grocery store and getting it home and not knowing how to cook it. He had dropped it in a pot of boiling water with oatmeal and let it cook ’til the water boiled out on the stove, then he carved the meat in five chunks and they tried to eat it and got so sick, he thought they’d all die in the night. Once he’d stolen five cans of creamed corn, so they could all have exactly the same thing and not fight over who got what and how much, and the store manager had caught him and jumped on him really bad, but he’d let him have the corn, saying if he ever did it again he’d be sent to the penitentiary. A woman who overheard the commotion had gone and gotten a can of Harvard beets, a loaf of Wonder bread, a pound of M&Ms, and a quart of buttermilk and gave the items to him in a plastic bag. He remembered that he couldn’t stomach buttermilk and the kids wouldn’t drink it, either, but they couldn’t bear to throw it out and it sat in the refrigerator for maybe a year.
He didn’t like to think about these things, he wanted to forget everything that had ever happened before he came here, but sometimes he couldn’t. He especially wanted to forget about his little sister, Jessie, because thinking of her being gone and nobody knowing where made him want to cry, and he tried to keep his face as hard and tight and straight as possible so nobody would ever be able to tell what he was thinking.
Sometimes, at night especially, he remembered trying to help his mama when she was drunk, and would suddenly feel a great love for her welling up in him. Then he’d be angry with himself for being stupid, and feel the old and shameful desire for her to die.
Things were just fine for him and Father Tim; he felt safe, finally, like things would be all right. But now he didn’t know what would happen. He liked Cynthia, but what if she didn’t like him, what if she tried to get him to leave or go back to his mother, if anybody could even find his mother? Or what if Cynthia tried to be his mother? His heart felt cold at such a thought. He wanted his own mother, even if he did hate her and wish he would never see her again as long as he lived.
He was glad that Barnabas came to his room and jumped on the foot of his bed, because it felt good to have a friend. Besides, Barnabas would never tell anyone that he was crying and couldn’t stop.
CHAPTER SIX
The Letter
H is heart was nearly bursting with a kind of longing, though he had no idea why. After all, he was blessed with everything this
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