Outrun the Moon(69)

How easily life can end on a misunderstanding. How fragile we all are, like spider silk on a branch of thorns.

I wipe my eyes on my arm. The salamis are still hidden. Amazingly, Francesca’s hat is still fixed in place, and her mushrooms are pressed tight against her chest.

She speaks, and I listen hard for the words. “If you’ll excuse us now. We’ve all been under much stress.”

“Why, is that you, Miss Bellini?” says the sunburned soldier. “It’s me, Private Smalls.” He tips the brim of his military hat and gestures to his comrade with the gun, an older man with ears that drip like candlewax. I don’t catch Candlewax’s name.

Francesca lifts her chin a notch, one eyebrow raised. She still hasn’t recognized him.

“Er, I’m Marcus’s friend? I mean, Lieutenant McGovern’s friend.” He licks his chapped lips.

“Lieutenant McGovern?”

“Just promoted him this morning. They need officers. He’s been worried about you.”

“As you can see, I am quite well.”

“It’s a wonder the babe could sleep through all that commotion.” Private Smalls leans in to take a look at Francesca’s bundle, but she holds the mushrooms tightly to her.

“Yes. He can sleep through anything.”

“It’s not yours, is it?”

“Of course not, Private Smalls,” she says icily, drawing herself up so that she stands almost as tall as he does. Her nostrils flare like a mare encountering a snake.

“Right, of course. Where are you staying? I’ll let Lieutenant McGovern know.”

“In the park, with the rest of my classmates.”

“But what of your parents?” He scratches his whiskers with an overgrown thumbnail.

“They were in San Jose with my brother, God have mercy. I expect they shall come and fetch me any day now. Tell Marcus that I’m sure he has much important work to do, and not to trouble himself over me. I’ll be fine.”

“You shouldn’t be walking out here with a baby, all by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself.”

The soldier’s colorless eyes wash over me, probably unconvinced that I am somebody. Candlewax pushes his boot into the dog’s lifeless body.

“Still, the place is crawling with criminals looking to steal whatever they can,” says Private Smalls. “We’ve been told to keep the order.”

“When will the army do something useful, like bring food to the people in need?” I can’t help asking. Francesca shoots me a warning look.

He frowns. “We’re all doing our best,” he says in a voice weighed with condescension.

Francesca takes me by the arm. “Well, our schoolmistress expects us back, and this baby needs her milk.”

“I thought you said it was a he.” Candlewax gives the checkered cloth a hard stare.

I stop breathing. All he has to do is reach out and touch the package in her arms to know it is not a baby.

Francesca starts jiggling the bundle. “I was referring to the baby’s mother. He needs her milk.” Each syllable is cast like a knife. I almost expect to see nicks on his skin. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

Private Smalls tips his hat, and I begin to breathe again. “I will let the lieutenant know of your whereabouts.”

Judging by the look Francesca gives me, that is not welcome news.



By the time we reach the Missing People table, my ears have not stopped ringing. It must be well past noon, and the area is overwhelmed with worried faces. I want to see if Ba’s entry has been updated, but I will wait to empty myself of our loot.

“You sure you’re okay? We can call off the dinner—”

“I’m fine. Remind me never to get between you and your mushrooms,” I joke, wishing she would stop worrying. We definitely will not call off the dinner now that an innocent life has been taken in its preparation. I’ve kept my feelings about the dog to myself. It was shot in a misguided attempt to protect me, and to complain seems ungrateful. Francesca’s brow wrinkles, so I add, “I just hope we can pull it off. We didn’t get enough food for forty-four.”

“Anything will be better than nothing.”

I don’t disagree, though to me, the number matters greatly. I want four to stop haunting me, but more importantly, I want to turn forty-four around for Ma so it doesn’t follow her into the afterlife. If such a thing does exist, I want to ensure that hers will be more abundant than the life she had here.

Francesca adjusts her hat. “I’m more worried that soldiers will show up and wonder where we got the food.”

“We’ll just have to eat the evidence before it can be inspected. It seems outrageous that they would shoot a bunch of girls just for trying to feed others, but all it takes is one nervous finger. Who was that soldier?”

“One of Marcus’s friends from Wilkes College. I didn’t recognize him in the uniform.” She stares through the grass. It’s no longer neatly trimmed, but trampled with mud slicks. “They’re all rich boys wanting to play soldier, and here’s their chance.”

Something catches her eye. “Look!” She points.

Fifty yards away, a line has formed near Minnie Mae, who sits on a crate milking Forgivus. I don’t know what shocks me more, the sight of the Southern miss with sleeves rolled up and a determined look on her normally fragile face or that Forgivus seems to have the world’s most bountiful teat.