Me & Emma (33 page)

“How much, ma’am?” he asks her, since she’s not saying a word, just staring at the indent on the bottom cushion where her husband used to sit.

“Ma’am ?”

“Five dollars,” I say, passing Momma, straight up to the man and his wife.

“Five?” he says, looking at Momma to make sure I’m not making it up. She’s stone still.

296

[ L l ZA B ET I! F LOC K

“Yes, sir,” I say. “Five dollars. Not a penny less.”

He turns and whispers something to his wife, who fishes the money out of her pocketbook.

“Here y’are,” he says, handing me the money. “Hey, Walles! Come give me a hand with this, will ya?”

And sure enough, there’s Walles from Zebulon’s, striding over like a cowboy, catching my eye and winking without smiling. He picks up one side of the old drinking chair and its new owner gets the other and soon it’s carried out of our lives forever, the one last piece of Richard marking our life.

“You cain’t hold on to things too hard, Momma,” I say to her as she watches them lift it into the flatbed truck. I sneak my hand into hers, and for the first time since I can remember, she holds on. Just for a second she holds on to me.

It’s moving day again, but this time we don’t need to pack boxes. Phee-you.

Momma says the price we got for everything just barely covered repair work on the car that’s gonna take us away from here, away from number twenty-two, but I thought the car was fine the way it was. I s’pose Momma got tired of having to turn the key ten or twelve times ‘fore it’d start up. Besides, it’s got to carry us all the way to Gammy’s and Momma says she doesn’t want to take any chances.

“I’m gonna do one last check and then we’ll hit the road,” Momma tells me. “If there’s anything you need to do ‘fore we go, you best go on and do it.”

There is one thing.

The walk down the path to the blacktop is easy now that I know where every stick is, every rock, every dip in the ground. Same with

ME & EMMA

walking up to Mr. Wilson’s. This time I take care to be nice to Brownie since it’s the last time H1 be seeing a dog like her.

But she won’t have anything to do with me. She waits till I pass

and then walks a distance behind me, just in case.

“Mr. Wilson?” I call up ahead.

I don’t know why I’ve always called up to him when he never answers back. He figures I’ll find him, anyway, without him hollering all over kingdom come. And he’s right.

“We’re leaving,” I say once I get up to his front porch.

“I figured as much,” he says, without looking up from his carving.

I look around and try to memorize yet another place I’ll never come back to.

“Well,” I say, switching my weight from one leg to the other, “I guess I better get going now.”

“Here,” he says, whittling one last notch into the wood. “Take this with you.”

He holds it in his hand, and until he unfolds all his fingers and passes it to me I have no earthly idea what it is. But once it’s in my hand, I know.

“Hey!” I smile, looking at it. “It’s you!”

“Yep.” He settles back into the broken-down chair. “It’s as good as I’m ever gonna git at carvin’.”

I don’t know what to say so my hug will have to do the talking. He looks surprised at first but then I feel his hand patting me on the back.

“You best get going while you got the sun to lead your way.” “Bye, Mr. Wilson.” “Bye, sissy-girl.”

He doesn’t know it but I’m smiling on my way back to the blacktop.

297

298

E L1 ZA B ET It F LOC K

“You ready ?” Momma asks me.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer, opening the car door.

She reaches out for the door handle and then stops suddenly, her hand in midair. “Why you riding in the back?” I see her look that says she’s wondering if I’m up to something.

“I want to be back by myself,” I tell her. “Momma, where’s my drawing pad I put out on the porch for the ride?”

“It’s up here.” And she hands it back over the headrest behind her once we’re in the car. “Here y’are.”

The car bumps along and Momma waits until the blacktop to fiddle with the dial, trying to find music…or something…to fill the air.

The town passes by us. Antone’s. Then Zebulon’s. I watch them all go by. Then I open the pad to a brand-new page.

I’m glad you can finally read and write, I scribble. I don’t rightly know how long we’ll be staying with Gammy and Aunt Lillibit, but Momma

says it won’t be too long. After that we could go anywhere we want. Hey, Em—if you could go anywhere in the whole entire world, where would

you go?

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many people helped breathe life into this book. My deep gratitude to Anne and Taylor Pace, who shared their beloved North Carolina with me and watched patiently while it became my beloved North Carolina.

My thanks also to my gifted editor, Susan Pezzack, and to my tireless agent, Laura Dail, who still has no idea that her encouragement is completely intoxicating.

I am blessed to have a friend like Mary Jane Clark, who is a constant source of strength and love. My Emily gave me Carrie’s voice and helped me remember what it’s like to be a little girl. My Lizzie gave me support and unknowingly saved me from myself time and time again. And my Jeffrey gave me this whole new wonderful life and with unwavering support and love made it possible for me to be a writer.

299