The Sound of Life and Everything (3 page)

3

Daddy didn't get home that night until it was
almost time for dinner. As soon as he walked through the door, he hung his hat on the coatrack and retrieved his dinner jacket. He always wore it to eat, just like he never left home without a hat on his head. I figured that was why they called it a dinner jacket.

“Evening, Anna,” he said as he strolled into the kitchen.

She looked up from the ham she'd been dragging out of the oven. “I'm sorry we're late. It's been one of those days.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, relieving her of the ham. He set it on the table with an audible thunk. “But really, I don't mind.”

Mama kissed him soundly. “I appreciate your assistance.”

Daddy grinned. “My pleasure.”

I pretended to hurl into the mashed potatoes, but neither of them seemed to notice.

Eventually, Mama returned her attention to the ham. “Did you have a nice time at the pier?”

“Not really,” he said. “For some reason I can't quite fathom, the fish prefer George's line.” He sneaked a piece of ham. “Did you have a nice time baking cookies?”

“Actually,” I replied, “we didn't have time to make cookies. Auntie Mildred called after lunch, and we had to—”

“Ella Mae,” Mama said, “how are those potatoes lookin'?”

I inspected my handiwork. I could have made a stink that she hadn't let me finish, but I'd long since figured out that mamas played by different rules. “I'd say they're lookin' mashed.”

Mama untied her apron. “Then I'd say it's time to eat.”

I set the potatoes down next to the ham, then squeezed into my seat. Daniel's was more accessible, but no one sat in Daniel's chair. If we had dinner guests, Mama made us eat outside. Other folks might have minded, but it made sense to me. I wanted Daniel to come home and take his seat at the table almost as much as she did.

Daddy held out his hands. His prayers were short and sweet, but that was just the way I liked them. I figured Jesus liked them that way, too, since He had to listen to so many.

After he finished the prayer, Mama dished up the potatoes. They only looked slightly lumpy. “I assume you ate the fish for lunch?”

Daddy nodded. “You know George.”

Uncle George had been an Eagle Scout since they were first invented, so he didn't believe in frying fish in pans. Instead of bringing his catch home, he roasted it right there on the beach, where it would taste like sand and surf. Since Auntie Mildred only cooked what Betty Crocker told her to, this arrangement worked out well.

Mama took a sip of sweet tea. “I guess buying that electric range was a waste of money.”

“It does match their Chrysler,” Daddy said.

“And their toaster,” I replied.

“They make teal toasters?” Daddy asked.

Mama scooped up some green beans. “They make teal
everything
.”

“Including houses,” I said.

Mama shook her head. “No, that's completely different.” She scooped up some more green beans (though I knew for a fact that she only ate green beans because they were good for you). “Our house is sky blue, not teal.”

Our house was certainly
something
. It used to be white, but on the one-year anniversary of my brother's death, Mama had decided that white was too drab. It had taken her a few weeks to pick out a new color, but once she'd settled on blue, it had only taken us a few days to paint it. Slow to judge, quick to act—that was how Mama lived.

Daddy raised his glass. “Well, thank goodness I married the sensible Simpson.”

Mama clinked her glass to his. “You can put that on my tombstone.”

He speared a slice of ham. “Everything's delicious, sweetheart. You two must have spent the whole day in the kitchen.”

“Actually,” I said, “we didn't get back until—”

I broke off when something—or someone—kicked me in the shins.

Mama smiled sweetly. “Pass the butter, will you, sweetness?”

Scowling, I passed the butter. I would have made more of a fuss, but I didn't fancy getting kicked again.

Daddy speared another slice of ham. “Where did you go?” he asked.

When Mama didn't answer right away, I took advantage of her silence: “We drove up to Pasadena to meet a man named Dr. Franks. He grows folks in these red horse pills, and one of them should have been Robby, but he was Japanese instead.”

I'd tucked my legs under my chair about halfway through this speech, but I needn't have bothered. Mama's attention was on Daddy, who arched an eyebrow at her. When Mama shook her head, Daddy burst into guffaws.

“What's so funny?” I demanded. I really didn't like being the only person in the family under the age of forty-five. It made it hard to get the jokes.

“You are,” Daddy said.

I knotted my arms across my waist. “I was tryin' to be serious.”

“We
know,
” Mama replied as she nudged me with her foot.

The emphasis she put on that one word said more than ten or twenty could have, but Daddy didn't seem to notice.

“Maybe we ought to take a break from Sergeant Friday,” he said, winking. “I didn't realize you had such a vivid imagination.”

He and Mama went on laughing like a pair of drunken sailors, but I didn't join in. No matter what people said, most folks laughed
at
you, not with you. I drained my milk in one swallow, then slammed the glass down on the table (since that was what the cowboys in all of Daddy's Westerns did).

“May I be excused?”

At least that got their attention. “Aren't you hungry?” Daddy asked.

Irritably, I shook my head. “Seeing men come back to life kind of takes away your appetite.”

Daddy's forehead wrinkled, but before he had a chance to ask me what I meant, Mama said, “I'm sorry you're not feelin' well. Maybe you should go upstairs.”

She meant that I should go upstairs before I spilled the beans, but I'd already spilled them, and Daddy still hadn't believed me. We'd been partners in crime since Daniel had left for the war, so this brush-off was especially painful. I set my plate down in the sink, then headed upstairs to my room.

I stormed past Daniel's door, which was closed like always, the doorjambs standing guard like a pair of silent soldiers. Mama kept his room exactly as he'd left it, as if he might come home someday and pick up the pieces of his life. I couldn't say I blamed her. Daniel was the only thing she'd brought all the way from Alabama after the Depression and the Dust Bowl had forced them to head west. She'd always called Daniel her home's blood and me her little miracle, but maybe if she'd called Daniel the same thing, he wouldn't have stepped on that land mine.

I flopped down on my bed and tucked my hands behind my head. Normally, I liked making sense out of the squiggles on my ceiling, but today, they looked like twisty halls and horse pills filled with men.

I rolled onto my side. “I thought God was the only one who could bring folks back to life, but it looks like Dr. Franks can, too,” I whispered to the yellow wall that I'd once shared with Daniel. But I couldn't bring myself to ask the question in my head:
If God let Dr. Franks resurrect a Japanese man, why couldn't He let Dr. Franks resurrect you, too?

4

Mama might have kept me from telling Daddy the
whole truth, but there was nothing she could do to keep me from telling Theo. We'd been nearly inseparable since Mama and Auntie Mildred had popped us out in the same week, and the only way that Mama could stop us from seeing each other would be to keep me home from Sunday school (which we both knew she wouldn't do).

But when I made it to the church bright and early Sunday morning, Theo was nowhere to be found. I even waited in our usual spot underneath the choir seats for an extra fifteen minutes (and I would have waited longer if it hadn't been for Mrs. Timothy). I had to endure another lesson about fire and brimstone by myself, but as soon as the bell rang, I escaped into the hall.

It didn't take me long to find him, since I knew all of Theo's haunts. After checking underneath the choir seats again, I slipped out the side door and inspected every shrub around the old adobe church. Sure enough, I found him and Walter tucked behind the biggest bush.

“Hey, watch it!” Walter said when I almost tripped over his shoes.

“Oh, don't be such a baby. I bet you don't even polish 'em.” I flicked Theo's ear. “What are you doin' with this lamebrain?”

“For your information,” Walter said, “Theo and I are in the middle of a very important business deal.”

That business deal looked like a rip-roaring game of marbles. And judging by the heap of steelies Walter had amassed, it looked like they weren't messing around.

I stuck both hands on my hips. “Theodore Clausen, are you gamblin' on the Lord's own doorstep?”

Walter smiled smugly. “You can't really call it gambling if you know you're going to lose.”

Theo dropped his gaze. Dark curls spilled across his forehead, obscuring the thin scar he'd received when I accidentally launched a firework at him.

“I ought to hand you over to your mama”—I plopped down in the dirt—“for not inviting me.”

A tiny smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, but he didn't look up.

Walter scooted back. “Hey, who said you could stay?”

“I did,” I replied, seizing one of his clearies and holding it up to the light. It was bright enough to make me squint. “If you don't want me to squeal, you're gonna have to pay me off.”

Walter made a face. “Why, you little—”

“Careful,” I said. “You wouldn't want the angels recordin' any of your filthy words.”

It looked like he dearly wanted to wrap his hands around my neck, but instead of working up the nerve, he knotted his arms across his chest. He might have gambled on the Lord's own doorstep, but apparently, he drew the line at murder. Guess even Walter Lloyd had standards.

“I'll take this clearie for my silence.” I stuck it in my pocket without waiting for his say-so. “And I want Theo's marbles back.”

Walter's face flushed purple. “Why don't you take them all?” he asked as he kicked the heap at Theo. As he stalked away, he added, “I'll just win them back next week.”

I glared at Walter's back until he disappeared around the corner, then retrieved one of his shooters. It was as heavy as a ball of lead. “What were you thinkin', Theo? Everyone knows that Walter cheats.”

He swiped the shooter from my hand. “I was thinkin' I was tired of listenin' to Mrs. Timothy.”

I flicked his ear again. “I would've played with you.”

“Yeah, well, you were late.”

“Well, then, you should have waited!”

Theo clambered to his feet. “I don't need your lectures.” He dusted off his pants and headed toward the parking lot. “And I certainly don't need you fightin' my battles for me.”

“Well, sor-ree,” I said as I hurried to keep up. “If I'd known you were gonna be so cranky, I wouldn't have bothered to come and tell you about the lab.”

“What lab?” Theo asked.

He said it like he didn't think there really was a lab, like he was trying to be nice, but then, Theo had never had a very good imagination. I blamed that on Auntie Mildred.

“The lab that me and Mama drove your mama to,” I said as I sidled up to him. “Want to guess what happened when we got there?”

“Not really,” Theo said.

“We saw a man come back to life!” I cupped a hand around my mouth. “And not just any man,” I whispered, “but a real, live Japanese—”

I broke off when we ran smack-dab into Walter, who was skulking around the palm trees that lined the front of the church.

I shoved him in the back. “Criminy, Walter!”

He clamped a hand over my mouth. “Quiet, Ella Mae. Do you want someone to see us?”

Did I want someone to see Walter's hand touching my lips? Absolutely not.

Once he was sure I wouldn't squeal, Walter dropped his hand and nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Dent, who were saying good-bye to Reverend Simms. “I'm just trying to avoid the Dirts.”

Hearing Walter say that left a bad taste in my mouth. The whole town had turned out for the Dents' after-the-war wedding, but Mama said the only reason that anyone had gone was to gawk at the Hawaiian bride. At the party afterward, I'd heard Auntie Mildred say, “White men and brown women weren't meant to live together. A bird might love a fish, but where on earth would they keep house?”

But as far as I could tell, the Dents were doing just fine. They had two kids, a steady income, and a bungalow on Finch Street. Walter and Auntie Mildred were the ones who had the problem.

I rubbed the goose bumps on my arms and looked around for an escape route, but there was no way to avoid the scene playing out on the church steps. I watched reluctantly as Mrs. Dent held out her hand and Reverend Simms shook it, but as soon as the Dents turned around, he wiped his hand off on his pants.

“Did you see that?” Walter hissed. “The reverend doesn't like those Dirts, either.”

“Pipe down,” I said so softly he probably couldn't even hear. I considered it my duty to put Walter in his place, but I'd never seen him and Reverend Simms agree on
anything
important. Whether that made it more right or more wrong, though, I couldn't have said.

Once the Dents got in their car, Walter dusted off his hands. “Looks like it's finally safe.” He gave me and Theo a two-fingered salute. “I guess I'll see you around.”

We didn't return his salute, just watched him go through squinted eyes. Walter always made me mad, but today, he'd made me nervous, too. If that was how people reacted to a perfectly nice Hawaiian lady, how in the world would they respond to a full-blown Japanese man?

Once Walter left, Theo set his sights on me. “Weren't you gonna tell me something?”

I rolled my tongue around my mouth (which still tasted horrible). “No, it ain't important.”

Suddenly, the thought of telling Theo—and having him react like Walter—made me want to retreat into my shell and never poke my head back out. There was no guarantee that he'd fly off the handle, but what if he did? I didn't want to take the risk.