28. Blue #2
I went up those steps. Wolfe and Morgan were close behind, and we each dutifully wiped our feet on the welcome mat before stepping into the warmth of Mabel’s house.
The wooden floor in the small living room gleamed, and everything smelled of fresh lemons.
On the Formica table in the small kitchen were two pecan pies.
The scent of sugar rose in the air, and I knew why Jack’s voice had been so warm when he’d spoken of her.
She was a nana. Jack had a nana.
That’s what Jack would have called her. A grandmother, we would have called her in my old neighborhood. Star would have referred to her as a memaw. We none of us had one, but all of us had imagined. The kisses. Baked goods. Quick hugs. Love shining out of her eyes all day and all night.
Jack even had a story about his real nana back home, something about a can of striped paint and five bucks. Star and I agreed he’d made it all up. But maybe, looking at the kiss on the cheek Mabel gave him when he’d put the dog on the floor and she pulled off his parka to hug him, he hadn’t been.
She gestured for us to sit, and when we had, she wiped her hands on her apron and looked at us one at a time, quickly assessing, it felt like.
“Now,” she said. “If I sacrifice one of my bridge club pecan pies, would you be so kind as to tell me why you’re all here in my living room when you know perfectly well it’s bridge day and I’m expecting company?” To me, she asked, “Which boxcar boy are you?”
“Blue, ma’am,” I said, not dismissing my desire to sit up straight.
“Then where’s Star?” she asked, seeming to know all our stories. Jack must have told her, of course. “He’s the littlest, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he be with you?”
“He was still on the train as it left town,” Jack said. Then Jack told the rest of the story. How I’d fallen off. Hit my head. Was staying with Wolfe. How we didn’t know where Star was. How we wanted to go look for him.
“Wolfe,” Mabel said, instead of commenting on any of this. “Come help me. Make tea while I cut this pie.”
I needed to be on my best company manners as I waited for Wolfe to make tea.
Morgan and I looked at each other across the rug, me on the couch, sitting up, my hands in my lap, a little warm in my parka, he on an armchair that had a flowered pattern and looked too fancy to sit in.
He thumped his cane on the carpet, lightly, every so often, as if marking time.
Jack was on the couch next to me, messing with the dog, having a little conversation with it in a bright, chirpy voice. Then, after a glance into the kitchen, he scooped the dog up and presented it to me, brown and white, sharp claws digging into Jack’s thighs.
“This is Mister Rocket,” he said. “Do you want to pet him?”
“Will he bite?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Jack said, laughter in his eyes. “Go on. He loves pets.”
I did as I was told, stroking the dog’s neck, feeling its silky fur, those bright brown eyes watching me carefully. Then, all at once, the dog’s ears went back softly, just a twitch, as I stroked between them and he panted happily at me.
“You’re in the club,” Jack announced, taking the dog back onto his own lap. “He likes you.”
I was glad to hear it, but I was more glad to get a plate with a giant slice of pecan pie and a flowered cup of milky tea. Everyone was served by Wolfe and Mabel, and finally, as Wolfe pulled two kitchen chairs into the living room, they sat down as well.
“So,” Mabel said, rather like a teacher who had just taken roll and wanted to get on with the lesson.
“You are missing Star, the youngest among you. Of course, these two young men, being his friends, would like to go find him, but how will you do that?” She took a sip of her tea, and I imagined she was very happy to have an audience for her thoughts, spoken out loud.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, no, not at all. ”
“Thank you for speaking sense, Mabel,” Morgan announced, lifting his cane to plant it between his feet.
“You need to stay where he can find you,” Mabel said. “Hysham is the last place you were all together and is likely the place he will return to, when he can.”
“He might have gone to Santa Monica,” Jack said. The pie on his plate was already gone, and he was contentedly nursing his cup of tea.
“To be sure,” Mabel said. “You might send word there. Place ads in the paper or—Jack, is it chat rooms young people use now?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jack. “Chat rooms and online marketplaces and so on.”
“Send word that way,” said Mabel with a nod.
“Maybe someone should also go out there and poke around, but that’s the only place you know he was headed to.
Then there’s the rest of the country, but it’s too big to be searched on foot.
Or by rail.” She got up and looked at Jack, her expression severe. “Jack, is that dog on your lap again?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Jack with a little laugh as he put Mister Rocket back on the floor.
“I agree, ma’am,” said Wolfe. He got to his feet, his parka back on his shoulders, and seemed a little warm in the cute house with the heat turned up for an older woman. “We’ll post online. Everywhere we can think of, in a way that Star would know the message is meant for him.”
“We can keep track in a spreadsheet.” Morgan tapped his cane between his feet and didn’t look up. “I’m good at spreadsheets.”
Jack looked at me, and I looked at him, at his grave expression and how it reflected the hard feelings in my chest.
For a good long while, the three of us had managed on our own. Decided where we went and what we’d do once we got there. We survived without any help from the outside world. Good and bad, our lives were different now. Now we were not on our own, but it felt better than freedom.
“I’d be willing to go to Santa Monica,” I said, though I hadn’t any idea how to pay for a trip like that. Everyone looked at me as though I’d grown two heads. Except for Mabel; she nodded and looked at her cup of tea.
“Maybe after the wedding you can all go,” she said. “Or before, since the wedding will be a simple one. But you’d have to plan around it.”
“When is it going to be?” I asked, looking at Jack, at the way his ears were turning pink. At the ring on his finger.
“Week after Thanksgiving,” Jack said, gazing at Morgan with a goofy wide grin. “Or before.”
“If all goes well,” Morgan said in a grumpy kind of way, though his mouth curved up in a small smile.
It was Wolfe I wanted to hear from, to chime in because what he had to say was the most important to me.
“We could go,” he said as he glanced at me, though he didn’t sound sure.
I didn’t have any money, and I knew he couldn’t afford it.
My family could have sent all of us in a heartbeat, put us up in a nice hotel overlooking the beach, and never even checked their bank balance.
There was no way I could call and ask, but in that moment, I wanted to.
I’d be willing to, if it meant we could find Star all the sooner.
Star was far more experienced at riding the rails than either Jack or I, but we’d grown used to being with each other at all times, and now he was alone.
The thought of it pulled at my heart, stretching it uncomfortably, leaving me with more feelings than I knew what to do with.
I hadn’t thought about it up until that point because when Wolfe held me in his arms, the rest of the world melted away.
“You boys need a plan,” Mabel said. “Don’t act before you have a plan.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we all said, the response echoing four times.
“And you all need to skedaddle, so my bridge ladies have somewhere to sit.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we said again.
As I waited behind Morgan, letting him go down the two steps to the walkway, Jack at his side, Mabel came up to me. Tugged at the lapels of my coat, pulling them toward each other to wrap me up as though I was about to embark on a trek through the Arctic.
“Young man,” she said to me. “Is there anyone at home for you? That you should call? Or are you like Jack?”
“I’m like Jack, ma’am,” I said. I knew she wanted my real name, wanted to know where I came from, who my people were. But instead of asking, she patted my cheek and with a kind smile said, “Well, consider this your home now. In Hysham, we take care of our own.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I scrubbed at my eyes as I turned and went down the stairs, Wolfe at my heels. The sun was bright, almost hard, and the air seemed very still and warm in front of Mabel’s house.
“Jack,” Mabel said.
I turned. She was standing at the top of the steps in her house dress and apron, grey socks, and low slippers.
She held Mister Rocket in her arms, and he looked at us all with intense brown eyes, studying us.
“I’ll give you a call when I’ve got another batch of rhubarb compote ready. You can put it on toast or ice cream.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile.
And with everything else about Jack that I had been jealous of—and yes, that was what I’d been feeling all this while—I was jealous that he had nana. Only this time, maybe, he would be willing to share her with me.