The River Widow(17)
Mabel dropped the knitting in her lap and gazed upon Adah with disdain. “She has new shoes, those hand-me-downs, isn’t that right? I don’t like taking charity, but you done took it, didn’t you?”
“They don’t fit right, Mabel. Her old pair is getting too small, and the shoes given to us are way too big. She needs to wear shoes that fit her feet right. It could cause damage—”
“Damage?” Mabel picked up her knitting again and stabbed the needle in and out, in and out. “How dare you talk to me about damage when the town is near ruint and my son hasn’t been found? You know nothing about damage . You talk to me about damage ?”
“I’m talking about the girl’s well-being, about his daughter. Your granddaughter, Mabel.” Adah shot a glance toward the window. “The men are out there working. They know the farm must go on, their work must go on. People are getting back to their houses now, and they’re talking about rebuilding. At least that’s what we heard in church. Daisy’s life must go on, too.”
“Hers, yes. That seems to be all you care about.” Mabel’s eyes looked as if they could shoot flames. “Lord knows I’m the only woman in this household who’s grieving for Lester.”
Adah steadied her voice. “I am grieving for Lester, too. But I feel the best thing I can do for him right now is look after his daughter. I can alter the clothes that don’t fit, but I can’t fix the shoes.”
Mabel batted her eyes a few times. “No businesses have opened again yet. Where do you reckon you could find shoes for a little girl at a time like this?”
“I was thinking about seeing what the Red Cross has to offer, or maybe the churches have been collecting things?”
“You ain’t going out of this house begging for charity! We always done taken care of our own, and we ain’t gonna start asking for handouts now. It’s embarrassing you took clothes and shoes already. If I’d have known what you was up to, I’d have put an end to it, but I didn’t want no scene in front of that lady done come out here.” She pulled in a ragged-sounding breath. “You cain’t understand people like us. And never will. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on you. Knew Lester was making a big mistake.”
Ignoring that comment, Adah said, “What do you expect me to do? Let her go barefooted? I only want what’s best for the girl.”
A strange resolve entered Mabel’s eyes. “That girl is fine. You go and spoil her with every little thing she thinks she needs or wants, and you’ll ruin her, turn her into a brat. Believe you me, that’s not going to happen in this house.”
“I’ve never wanted to spoil her or turn her into a brat.”
“We done seen your influence. We sure has. And it’s gonna stop.”
“Are you refusing shoes for your granddaughter?”
Mabel dropped the knitting. “You ain’t too bright, are you? You best leave well enough alone.”
During the day, Adah helped the men with the seedbeds, while at night she slept with Daisy tucked in at her side, the girl sleeping soundly, having not once cried for her father or even barely mentioned him.
“Where’s Daddy?” she finally asked one night as Adah was reading a book, one that Adah had found in the bottom of the needlepoint bag. The Cat Who Went to Heaven , based on an old Japanese tradition, taught a gentle lesson about compassion and goodness. It contained lovely illustrations, too. Obviously the nice lady had intended it for Daisy.
Adah rested her hand on the page, then closed the book and turned Daisy around to face her.
“Honey, I have to tell you a sad truth. Your daddy’s not coming back, and I know that’s a difficult thing to hear. Most people would say he’s gone on to a better world, up in heaven. That’s what they tell you in church. But the truth is, we don’t know for sure. It’s nice to think of him in some better place, though, isn’t it?”
Daisy shrugged, and she looked down. “Daddy was mean.”
Adah blinked hard. “Why do you say that?”
“He hit you.”
Adah sighed. “Yes, he did.” There was no use in denying it; Daisy had seen. “People do bad things sometimes, but it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Your father loved me and he certainly loved you, I’m sure of that. And now he’s looking down on us from what we can only hope is a better place.”
“Can he come back?”
“No. No, he can’t come back.”
Daisy shrugged again.
“I’m sure you miss him.”
Daisy said, with no expression on her face, “Can we finish the book now?”
“Of course.”
After that, Daisy had spoken no more about him. Adah lay awake wondering about Daisy’s reaction and also about the scant appearance of friends and supporters for the Branch family during their time of loss. People had always spoken to the family at church, remaining somewhat distant but polite. The Branches were polite in return and then complained during the drive home. Buck had once fumed that a woman had brought her baby into the sanctuary and the infant had cried during the sermon, and Jesse often made fun of an extremely shy young man who attended with his grandmother, calling him “that dimwit.”
But the Branches kept that side of themselves hidden as best they could. How many people really knew them? Why had there been no gathering of people offering comfort, no clusters of women coming over to cook, no men offering to help Buck and Jesse in the fields during this difficult time? Had the Branches turned away charity before and so no one offered it this time? Or was there something else? What did they know that Adah didn’t?