Before We Were Yours

My head is still cloudy with dried-up tears and leftover hate. Did Lark get in trouble? Was she sick? She couldn’t be. When we came to breakfast, she was just like always. They don’t take kids to the sickroom unless they’re burning with fever or throwing up.

I point Fern and Stevie to the playground. “You two, go. You go over there on the teeter-totter, and you don’t get off no matter what, unless I come get you or you hear the bell. You understand?”

Both of them look scared to death, but they nod and link hands. I watch them walk over to the teeter-totter, then I head for the house. On the way past the gate, I let Danny Boy know that if he bothers them, he’ll have me to reckon with.

My courage comes and goes on the way across the yard. I keep looking at the house hoping I’ll spot Miss Dodd. A hammer pounds in my ears when I tiptoe over the porch and head into the washroom. Depending who sees me here, I could get in bad trouble. Somebody might think I’m trying to steal food.

The colored women are at the washer and the ringer when I go by. Do they know what happened to Lark? Would they tell me if they did? Usually we pass like people who’re better off not seeing each other.

They don’t look up, and I don’t ask. Nobody’s in the kitchen, and I hurry through so I won’t get caught in there.

The swinging door groans low when I poke my head into Mrs. Murphy’s front hall. It’s almost too late that I hear her voice and see that her office door is open.

“I think you’ll find her delightful.” Miss Tann is in the room too. Her voice is sticky sweet, so I know she’s talking to someone besides Mrs. Murphy. “Perfect in every way. The mother had a start on a college education before the Depression. Very intelligent young woman and considered quite beautiful. Clearly, it’s an inherited trait. This little one is a regular Shirley Temple, and she won’t even need a permanent wave. She is a bit quiet but very well behaved and mild mannered. She won’t be any trouble to you in public situations, which I know is so important in your line of work. I do wish you’d allowed us to bring her to you there. It isn’t our normal procedure to have new parents come to our boarding homes.”

“I appreciate your making accommodations.” The man’s voice is deep. He sounds like an army commander. “It’s difficult for us to go anywhere without being recognized.”

“We completely understand.” I’ve never heard Mrs. Murphy sound so friendly. “What an honor to have you visiting. Right here in my own home!”

“You’ve chosen one of our best.” Miss Tann comes closer to the door. “And you will be the best, won’t you, Bonnie? You’ll do everything your new mommy and daddy ask of you. You’re a lucky little girl. And you’re very grateful for that, aren’t you?”

Bonnie is Lark’s new name.

I try to hear if Lark answers, but I can’t tell.

“Then I suppose we must let you go, though we will miss you dearly,” Miss Tann says.

A man and a woman step into the hall, bringing Lark with them. The man is handsome, like a prince in a book of fairy stories. The woman is beautiful, with fancy hair and pretty lipstick. Lark is wearing a frilly white dress. She looks like a tiny ballerina.

Air goes solid in my throat. I push the kitchen door open wide. You have to stop them, I tell myself. You have to make them see that Lark is yours and they can’t have her.

A hand grabs my arm and pulls me back, and the door swings shut with a slap. I stumble and stagger as someone drags me across the kitchen and through the washroom to the porch. I don’t even know who’s got me until Miss Dodd spins me around and stands me up, holding both of my shoulders.

“You ain’t supposed to be in there, May!” Her eyes are wide, her skin washed white. She looks almost as afraid as I feel. “You know what the rules are. You bother Mrs. Murphy and Miss Tann, there’ll be the devil to pay.”

The ball in my throat breaks like a fresh hen egg. It drips down, sticky and hot and thick. “M-my sister…”

Miss Dodd holds my face. “I know, darlin’, but you’ve gotta think what’s best for her. She’s gettin’ a mama and daddy that’re movie stars.” She pulls in a breath like she’s just won a prize at the carnival fair. “I know you’ll be sad awhile, but it’s the best anybody could hope for. Brand-new parents and a brand-new home. A whole new life.”

“We’ve got a mama and daddy!”

“Hush! Hush, now.” Miss Dodd starts to drag me down the porch, away from the door. I try to pull free, but she won’t let me. “Hush. You can’t start carryin’ on. I know you wish your mama and daddy could come back after you, but they ain’t able. They signed you over to the Tennessee Children’s Home Society. Y’all are orphans now.”

“We’re not!” I wail. I can’t help myself. I babble out the truth—all about the Arcadia, and Queenie, and Briny, and my brother and sisters. I tell about Camellia and the closet, and the workers saying different stories of what happened to her, and Danny Boy telling me she got dumped in the swamp.

Miss Dodd’s chin drops and just hangs there. She holds me by the shoulders so tight my skin twists and burns. “Is all that the God’s honest truth?” she asks when I run out of words.

I squeeze my eyes shut, nod, and swallow tears and snot.

“Ssshhh,” she whispers, and hugs me close. “Don’t say nothin’ more now. Not to nobody. You go on out with the other kids. Be good and keep quiet. I’ll see what I can learn about it all.”

When she lets me go, I grab her hand. “Don’t tell Mrs. Murphy. She’ll take Fern away from me. Fern’s all I got.”

“I won’t tell. I won’t leave you either. I’ll find out what happened to your sister. God be my witness, we’ll make this right, but you gotta stay real strong.” She stares into my eyes, and there’s fire in her. The fire’s a comfort, but I know what I’ve just asked her to do. If Mrs. Murphy can make Camellia disappear, she can get to Miss Dodd too.

“D-don’t let them c-catch you, Miss Dodd.”

“I’m a sharper knife than folks think I am.” She shoos me toward the yard, and just like that, we’ve got a friend here. Finally somebody’s listening to our story.

That night, Fern cries and carries on forever, asking for Lark. I even try reading her some of the book, but she won’t hush, and I finally can’t stand it. I grab her and squeeze her arms hard and pick her up and stick my face in hers.

“Stop it!” My voice echoes around the tiny room. “Stop it, you stupid! She’s gone! It’s not my fault! Stop it, or you’re gonna get a spanking.” I lift up my hand, and it’s only after my sister’s eyes blink, blink, blink that I see what I’m doing.

I drop her on the cot and turn away and grab my hair and pull until it hurts. I want to pull all of it out. Every single piece. I want a pain I understand instead of the one I don’t. I want a pain that has a beginning and an end, not one that goes on forever and cuts all the way to the bone.

This pain is changing me into a girl I don’t even know.

It’s changing me into them. I see it in my sister’s face. That hurts worst of all.

I fall on the cot that Miss Dodd got all washed and cleaned for us. It smells like Clorox now. Three peppermints roll out from under the dirty pillow, and I throw them at the slop pot.

Fern comes and sits beside me and pats me on the back the way a mama would do to quiet a baby. The day, and this place, and everything that’s happened here goes through my mind. I see it like a motion-picture show, the kind we watch for five cents when the carnivals come through the river towns and shine their projectors on the side of a building or a barn. But the show in my mind is wavy, and blurry, and running too fast.

Finally I sink farther, and everything goes dark and quiet.

In the middle of the night, I wake up, and Fern’s snuggled in beside me. There’s a blanket over both of us. It’s twisted and wadded funny, so I know that Fern must’ve put it there.

Lisa Wingate's books