The Mighty Miss Malone (16 page)

At first I tried to remember that poem Father used to say about how “Hope has wings …” but I couldn’t.

I just wanted to have my face covered with the pillow that Father used to sleep on.

Three days after we found out we had to go to that miserable place in Michigan, Mother said to me, “Deza, once we leave you are
not
to get back in bed. You are to eat every meal with Jimmie and me, and you will clean your plate. You are to go to the library every day, and you will read and study. Am I clear?”

I shot a look at Jimmie. I was still in bed when he got home every day and he’d ratted me out.

“Yes, Mother.”

This was good. I’d learned that sitting in bed all day just made you want to spend all day sitting in bed.

After Mother gave me a kiss and left and Jimmie said, “Sorry, Deza,” and went out too, I climbed into Mother and Father’s bed just one more time.

And didn’t get out until Jimmie got home hours later.

I picked up a book and rushed downstairs but I don’t think I fooled him. He hugged me and went in the kitchen.

The next day as soon as they left, I got back in bed again.

There was a loud knock on the front door.

It was Clarice. “Deza! You look terrible.” Only somebody you share a heart with could say that and not get you upset.

I gave her the tragic news about how we were going to have to move to Flint.

“Yes, I know. It’s my fault that I wasn’t here earlier, Jimmie told me yesterday. I would’ve come but I couldn’t stop crying.
I finally ran out of tears this morning, but seeing you like this makes me wonder if I might have some left.”

I was so glad she came by. I knew I’d have to give her a good example of being strong.

She said, “The librarians have been asking where you are. You know you
are
such a credit to our race, after all.”

I laughed and ran upstairs to get ready. I hadn’t read anything in four days and felt like I was starving!

“Deza! My Darling Daughter Deza!”

Mother was home right on time, and she was singing! I ran downstairs to meet her at the door. She had both of her hands behind her back and a huge smile on her face.

I hugged her, but instead of hugging me back she said, “How was your day?”

“Mother, don’t tease! What’s behind your back?”

She acted surprised that her hands were hidden and said, “What? This little thing?”

It was a envelope. From Father?

Mother touched my cheek. “No, Deza. It’s not that, but it’s good nonetheless!”

She said, “
Ta-da
!” I read
Mrs. Ernest Nelson, Flint, Michigan
in very good penmanship.

Mrs. Carsdale had given us the letter for a new job in Flint! This
was
good news!

Not really, but when you’re feeling bad you can’t be picky about what kind of things can lift you up.

“Oh, Mother, you got it! So now we can move to Flint and find Father?”

Mother said, “Why on earth would a sensible Indiana girl want to move to Flint, Michigan?”

“If Flint’s where we’ll find Father I’ll go. The quicker we find him the quicker we can get back to Gary. Can I read it?”

Mother held the letter over her head.

“Well, I’m not sure, I wouldn’t want you to lose it or tear it or—”

I grabbed Mother’s arm and we tussled back and forth over the letter. She let me take it.

It was sealed.

I don’t know why, but my stomach started folding itself up.

This wasn’t good.

“Did you read it, Mother?”

“No. But I told her what I needed and she finally said she’d do it and … here it is.”

“You trust her?”

I was sorry I’d asked. Mother’s good mood was gone.

“Of course I don’t trust her, but some of the time you have to have faith, Deza.”

“Should we open it?” Her 1-1-1 lines showed.

“Deza Malone, I’m surprised at you, you know that would be wrong. Besides, if you ripped this expensive envelope open, where in the world would you get another?”

She was right, the envelope felt like it was made out of the same thick, heavy paper as a dollar bill. I knew better than to
ask Mother to borrow one from Mrs. Carsdale. She’d see that as nothing but stealing, and me opening the letter would be almost as bad.

“I was just talking.” I tried to get her back to feeling good. “Boy, Jimmie’s going to be so excited when he hears, can I tell him first?”

Mother smiled but the fun was gone. “Of course, Deza. Now we have to start planning.”

She held her hand out. “Let me put this in the filing cabinet so it will be safe.”

The Malones aren’t like any other family in the world, and one of the reasons is our filing cabinet. It isn’t anything like the kind you see at school or in rich people’s offices in the movies.

Those filing cabinets have drawers and handles and locks and make a solid echo-y kra-bang sound when they’re closed.

Ours is a lot quieter. It’s as soft and comfortable and quiet as a couch. That’s because it
is
our couch. Mother lifted the middle cushion and stuck Mrs. Carsdale’s letter on top of some other papers.

She patted the cushion back in place. “Now, what’s that delicious smell, Deza?”

“Just supper.” I smiled and headed to the kitchen, but my mind was under the couch cushion with that letter.

After we ate and Mother went over to see Mrs. Henderson, I went in the filing cabinet, got the letter and took it to Jimmie.

“Great. We can go find Father now.”

“Not great, Jimmie, we can’t trust that woman.”

“What you mean, sis?”

“We’ve got to open this letter.”

“No problem. Put the kettle on.”

I knew he’d be able to get into the envelope without anyone knowing, he’d opened every sealed report card and letter from teachers he’d ever gotten before he gave them to Mother and Father.

After the kettle boiled, Jimmie took it off the stove.

“The most important thing is don’t get it too wet. Most folks mess up by soaking the glue too much, that way the envelope gets bumpy and people know it’s been opened before.”

Jimmie is always very generous, even with his lessons on how to be a criminal. He held the envelope over the kettle’s neck and slowly pulled at the flap. “You have to take your time. With everything, not just steaming open letters. Be patient and take your time. Remember what Pa says, ‘All things come to the person who waits.’ ”

I didn’t correct Jimmie because in every movie I’d ever seen and every book I’d ever read if one criminal criticizes what their partners do or say it always ends up with someone in prison.

What Father
really
says is “All things come to the person who waits … if that person works like mad while they’re waiting.”

Jimmie got the last part of the flap from the envelope and it was absolutely flat!

“Wow, Jimmie, that’s great!”

“Hold on, we ain’t all the way done yet. This is just as important.”

He blew along the envelope’s flap. “This stops the glue from clumping up. All set.”

I pulled the letter out. It was on three pages of fancy writing paper. My stomach was folding, not because I knew this was wrong, but because I was afraid of what the letter might say.

While Jimmie put the kettle away I quickly read through what the woman had written. I got happy and mad at the same time.

Happy that my gut feeling was right, and mad at what that horrid woman had written.

“All right, Deza, what’s it say?”

I read parts of the letter to Jimmie.

I skipped reading the next lines to Jimmie.

I read aloud.

My hands were trembling. Jimmie was looking down and shaking his head.

“Man, Ma’s gonna be mad.”

“No, she won’t, we can’t let her see this. I wish I could get some of this woman’s writing paper, I know I can copy this penmanship in a flash.”

“You know I’m going to the Carsdales’ with Ma for the rest of this week, I’m getting a dime a day to help them close their house up.”

“Jimmie, I don’t know—”

“You hit the nail on the head, sis, you don’t know, and you don’t want to know. Let Jesse rob this train. Give me some skin and leave the rest up to me.”

I slapped Jimmie’s palm and had never felt like such a big crook in all my life. And doggone it all, the second brain was taking over, because I
really
liked the feeling!

Mother and Jimmie came home together the next day and as soon as he saw me Jimmie made his eyebrows go up and down over and over.

I followed him into his room.

He smiled. “
Ta-da
!” He opened a paper sack and pulled out ten sheets of the beautiful paper and two envelopes.

It wasn’t until that second that I saw that Jimmie’d stole this stuff for nothing. We didn’t have any ink or a good pen so I could copy the woman’s writing.

Jimmie read my mind. “
Ta-da
!”

He reached into the bag and this time he was holding a
gorgeous pen and a inkwell. “What’d I say? You got to let Jesse rob this train. I knew you were gonna need the ink too. I’ll take anything you don’t use back tomorrow. Now it’s your turn.”