All the Earth, Thrown to the Sky

23

Mrs. Carson’s house was big. She had a room for me and Tony to share, and she gave Jane her own. After we went to bed, Jane slipped into our room. We still had the electric light on, which, come to think of it, was the only kind of lights Mrs. Carson had. At home we had some electricity, but with the sandstorms blowing down wires, we mostly used kerosene and candles.

The bed was nice and there was no dust anywhere. The house had the best-sealed windows I had ever seen.

All I knew was it kept out the dust.

I thought that this wouldn’t be such a bad place to stay, and we really were orphans, and maybe those church people Mrs. Carson talked about could help us out.

Anyway, Jane came in and said, “Mrs. Carson wants to see us all.”

We went into the kitchen, where Mrs. Carson sat looking clean and nice under the electric light over the kitchen table. She had a trim face, and the bones stood up high in her cheeks and her eyes were bright, like she was always surprised about something. I guess she was older than Mama by some years, but she didn’t look worn out the way Mama had. Mrs. Carson was soft and smooth-looking, and when she moved, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. She had a manner about her that was like some kind of strange but beautiful bird. She fit perfectly in her beautiful house.

The light over the table didn’t have a pull cord, like I was used to. None of the lights in the house had that. They all had switches. The light over the table was a big chandelier with lots of bulbs, and it made quite a glow. It was almost like being out in the yard at high noon. The walls were bright with paint and the floors were shiny with polish, and there wasn’t any sand in the corners or up in the curtains. Right then, at that moment, it was the perfect place to be.

Mrs. Carson smiled at us as we came in and asked us to sit at the table. When we were all seated, she said, “That story you told me earlier. I just want you to know I didn’t believe a word of it. Not literally, anyway. But I do believe you kids are in trouble, and anyone that would make up a whopper like that is either a con person or someone who needs help. I decided you were the latter, though, girl, you have a bit of the former in you.”

“Why, thank you,” Jane said, as if it was a compliment.

“I wasn’t always well off,” Mrs. Carson said. “My husband and I had some good fortune. Now he’s gone. I try to help others when I can.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Jane said.

“That’s all right,” Mrs. Carson said, “but you must never do it again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane said.

“The part about the dog was especially precious, dear,” Mrs. Carson said. “But you must not butter up your stories so. It makes them too slippery to handle. And Jack here, I doubt that happened to him … what you said happened.”

“No, ma’am, and he isn’t my brother either.”

“I didn’t think so. You don’t look anything alike. But Tony here, he’s your brother, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane said.

“What I want to tell you is this. If you want to stay, you can stay. I’ll do what I can. I’m all alone, and I don’t have any family. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I don’t think we can,” I said. “Jane and I have someone we want to help.”

“Help?” Mrs. Carson said.

“It’s a long story,” I said, not wanting to tell her the truth, because it sounded almost as crazy as the story Jane had made up. “There isn’t much to it. We just want to do right by someone.”

“I hope that’s the truth,” Mrs. Carson said.

“It is, ma’am,” Jane said.

Mrs. Carson nodded. “What about you, Tony?”

Tony looked at us, and then he looked at Mrs. Carson. “I like it here. I like it here fine,” he said.

“Then you should stay,” Jane said. “We’ll come back. I will.”

“Me too,” I said.

“I’d like to stay, but I got to stick with my sister,” Tony said. “She might need me.”

Mrs. Carson nodded again. “I could get the law on you so you wouldn’t go out there and get yourself hurt, but I haven’t the heart for it. I wouldn’t do that. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. And if you go away, you are welcome back. But with truer stories.”

“When we come back,” I said, “we will have the whole story for you. We appreciate your kindness. We really are orphans. We really have had bad times.”

“Who hasn’t?” Mrs. Carson said. “It’s just the bad times aren’t always the same kind of bad times for everybody.”