Before We Were Yours(47)

I lose track of the rest. All I can think of is that we’re going to have a chance at a book, and there’s not much I like better than books, especially books I haven’t read yet. With five of us, we can get five books.

But when the workers unlock the yard gate and the line starts out, Mrs. Murphy stops Camellia and me and the babies. “Not you,” she says. “Since you haven’t a place upstairs yet, you’ve no good spot to keep books, and we can’t have the library’s property being damaged.”

“We’ll treat them real careful. I promise,” I blurt out. Normally, I’d never talk back to Mrs. Murphy, but I can’t help it this time. “Please. Could we get one book at least? And I can read it to my sisters and my brother? Queenie used to…” I button my lips before I can get myself in more trouble. We’re not allowed to talk about our mamas and daddies here.

Sighing, she hangs the rug beater on a nail in one of the porch posts. “Very well. But there is no need for the little ones to go. Just you. And be quick.”

It takes me a second to decide whether to leave the babies. Camellia grabs their arms and drags them toward her. “Go.” She pops her eyes at me. “Get us somethin’ good.”

I give them one last look before scooting out the gate. It’s all I can do not to run across the yard and bust through the magnolias. It smells like freedom out here. It smells good. I have to make myself stay in line and follow the rest of the kids around to the driveway, real orderly.

On the other side of the tree wall, there’s a big black truck. Two more cars pull up. Miss Tann gets out of one, and a man with a camera gets out of the other. They shake hands, and the man takes a notepad and pen from his pocket.

The big black truck says SHELBY COUNTY LIBRARIES on the side, and once we get closer, I can see that there’re shelves coming right out the back of it. And the shelves are full of books. The kids mill around them, and I have to put my hands behind my back and lace my fingers tight to keep from touching things while I wait my turn.

“As you can observe for yourself, we provide the children with many stimulating opportunities,” Miss Tann says, and the man writes on his notepad like the words are going to get away if he doesn’t catch them fast enough. “Some of our little ones have never enjoyed the luxury of books before coming to us. We provide wonderful books and toys in all of our homes.”

I duck my head and fidget and wish the crowd would thin out. If Miss Tann has other places like this, I don’t know what they’re like, but there’s not a single book around Mrs. Murphy’s, and all the toys are broke. Nobody even cares enough to fix them. Miss Tann’s been here enough. She’s got to know that.

“Poor little waifs,” she says to the man. “We take them in when they are unwanted and unloved. We provide them with all that their parents cannot or will not give them.”

I bolt my eyes to the ground and make fists behind my back. It’s a lie, I wish I could scream at the man. My mama and daddy want us. They love us. So did the father who came to see his little boy, Lonnie, and ended up broke down on the porch crying like a baby when they said Lonnie’d been adopted.

“How long does the average child remain with the society?” the man asks.

“Oh, we have no average children here.” Miss Tann pushes out a high little laugh. “Only extraordinary ones. Some may remain longer than others, depending on the condition in which they come to us. Some are weak and small when they arrive and so wan they cannot even run and play. We plump them up with three nourishing meals per day. Children require good food to grow properly. Plenty of fruits and vegetables and red meats always put the glow back in their little cheeks.”

Not at Mrs. Murphy’s house. At Mrs. Murphy’s house, it’s cornmeal mush, one little bowl, morning and night. We’re hungry all the time. Gabby’s skin is pale as milk, and Lark and Fern’s arms are so thin you can see the muscles and the bones.

“We monitor all of our boarding homes to be certain the children are properly fed and well treated.” She acts like it’s true for a fact.

The man nods and writes and says, “Mmmm-hmm,” like he’s swallowing it whole and it tastes real good.

Go look in the backyard, I want to tell him. Go look in the kitchen. You’ll see how it really is. I want to say it so bad. But I know if I do, I won’t get a book, but I will get the closet.

“The children are so very grateful. We pull them from the gutters and…”

Someone touches my arm, and I jump without meaning to. A lady in a blue dress looks down at me. Her smile is bright as sunshine.

“And what do you like to read about?” she asks. “What sort of books? You’ve been so patiently waiting all this time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She leads me toward the bookshelves, and my eyes about pop out of my head. I forget all about Miss Tann, and all I can think about are books. I’ve been to libraries in river towns before, but back then we had books of our own on the Arcadia too. Now we haven’t got anything, and when you haven’t got a single book, the idea of putting your hands on one is like Christmas and a birthday rolled up together.

“I…I like any kind,” I stammer out. Just looking at the shelves and seeing all those colors and words makes me smile real big. I feel happy for the first time since we came here. “Maybe a long book would be good, since we just get one.”