Where The Heart Is Part 11

"We can sit with the baby . . ."

8 6.

"I read this book, w.i.l.l.y Jack, this book by a woman named Pearl Pearl Buck who works in a Wal-Mart store." Buck who works in a Wal-Mart store."

". . . sit with the baby and . . ."

"And in the third chapter . . . or maybe the sixth . . . you dumped this Chinese woman out in a rice paddy just before she had this Chinese woman out in a rice paddy just before she had her her baby . . ." baby . . ."

". . . sit with the baby and . . ."

"Do you remember that little fuzzy dog? The one I called Frosted Frosted Mocha 'cause she was the color of my lipstick. Do you remember Mocha 'cause she was the color of my lipstick. Do you remember her?" her?"

". . . we can sit with the baby and . . ."

"You took her to the rice paddy and you dumped her out. Frosted Mocha. You stopped the car and dumped her out on the road. You Mocha. You stopped the car and dumped her out on the road. You said she was not gonna have her litter in the floor of your car . . ." said she was not gonna have her litter in the floor of your car . . ."

"We can sit with the baby and watch the sun go down."

"Dumped me out and you said . . ."

"Novalee, I found us a place."

". . . having a baby in the floor . . ."

". . . found us a place."

Suddenly, her voice pulled itself away from her. "Having my baby baby on the floor of a Wal-Mart store." The sounds seemed not to on the floor of a Wal-Mart store." The sounds seemed not to come come from her mouth, but from a hole in the air above her head. from her mouth, but from a hole in the air above her head. "d.a.m.n "d.a.m.n you." The words, a fierce wind whipping behind them, you." The words, a fierce wind whipping behind them, were pushed were pushed up and out, filling the s.p.a.ce around her. "d.a.m.n you, up and out, filling the s.p.a.ce around her. "d.a.m.n you, w.i.l.l.y Jack! w.i.l.l.y Jack!

d.a.m.n YOU TO h.e.l.l!"

And then Forney Hull, his face pressed to the "television screen,"

shielding his eyes from the glare, pounded on the gla.s.s.

"You break that television and I'll have to pay for it."

But Forney Hull didn't listen. He struck the gla.s.s again and again, first with his fists, then with a length of pipe, each blow heavier, Where the Heart Is 8 7.

harder than the last . . . faster and faster, and then it exploded, shattered and flew in all directions, sounding like notes played on a badly tuned piano. Then Forney crawled in, crawled through the broken window and into the Wal-Mart store.

"Novalee!"

"You shouldn't have done that. They'll make me pay and color TVs don't come cheap."

Forney folded himself to the floor beside her and cradled her head in his lap.

"Big-screen TVs aren't-"

Suddenly, Novalee's body curled, found the curve of Forney's arm to fit into as she stiffened . . . hardened into a knot of gristle to meet the pain. She clenched her teeth to hold in the scream that came from deep inside, from the place where she felt herself splitting open.

She held against it, rigid-unyielding, and when it pa.s.sed, she collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"Big screen." Her voice sounded thin, uneven. "That'll cost more than you think, w.i.l.l.y Jack."

"No. I'm not. I'm not w.i.l.l.y Jack."

"Good," she said. She peered into Forney's face, narrowing her eyes as if she were trying to bring him into focus. "w.i.l.l.y Jack's gone."

"I guess so."

"I'm having a baby, Forney."

"I know."

"Can you help me?"

"Novalee, I don't know how."

"Yes, you do. You read the books."

"Not all of them."

"Nearly."

8 8.

"Then I didn't read the right ones."

"Are there wrong ones, Forney? Are there any wrong books?"

"Well, I don't know. I suppose-"

But Novalee couldn't hear him then. She braced her arms across her abdomen as if she could protect herself from what she felt coming, but it came anyway.

Her pain carried its own heat now . . . muscle, bone, flesh burned into a single thing low in her belly, against her spine. It flared deep inside, white heat . . . combustible . . . then rising, seared her lungs, scorched her throat. When it left, it left her dry, brittle as old paper.

"Get me a drink of water, Forney."

"Is it okay to do that? Are you supposed to do that?"

"Yes, I think so. Go check the manual."

"What manual?"

She let her head fall against his chest. Her hair was wet, her face bathed in sweat.

"The buckeye lost all it leaves, Forney."

"What manual?" He wiped her face with the back of his hand.

"What manual should I look in?"

"The Complete Guide to Fruit Trees."

"Novalee, I'm going to call an ambulance. You need to be in the hospital."

"In a bed with white sheets."

"Yes, a hospital. You need a doctor."

"Forney!" Her voice sounded urgent. "Get a knife."

"What?"

"A knife."

"What for?"

"Don't you remember? Rose of Sharon!"

"But I don't . . ."

8 9.

"They put a knife under Rose of Sharon . . . when she was in labor.

A knife . . . to cut the pain."

"Novalee, I don't think that's-"

The pain tore through her so quickly she had no time to set her body against it.

"Novalee?"

She heard an animal keening-its high-pitched cry made her throat ache.

"Novalee!"

The pain twisted inside her, pulling at her center, taking her to the edge of what she could stand.

"Oh, my G.o.d!" Forney said.

And at the edge, she gave herself to it, held nothing back.

"What am I supposed to do, Novalee?"

"Forney . . ."

Pain took her then, knotted itself around her with such force, such power that it choked off her breath.

"What should I do?"

It began to move then, the pain inside her, drawing something from her as it pushed itself deeper and deeper.

"It's coming, Novalee."

Then she felt some part of herself tearing away as it pushed lower.

"I see it. I can see it now."

There was life to the pain then as it twisted and stretched, straining against her, using her resistance to find its way.

"Yes!"

And then it was free.

"I've got it," Forney said. "I've got it." And he laughed, a kid with the Cracker Jack prize. "Look, Novalee. Open your eyes."

The release was too sudden . . . the separation too final.

9 0.

"Open your eyes and look at your daughter."

Novalee squinted against the light as she blinked her eyes into focus and watched as Forney lifted the baby and gently placed it on her stomach. The tiny body, shrunken and dark, pulsed with every heartbeat.

When Benny Goodluck placed the buckeye tree in her arms, she was surprised at how light it felt and she wondered if such a fragile was surprised at how light it felt and she wondered if such a fragile thing could ever take hold. thing could ever take hold.

And she reached out and brushed the cheek of her daughter and she smiled at the touch . . . at the way it made her feel . . . the way she had felt when Sister Husband had hugged her, when Moses Whitecotton had taken her hand, when Benny Goodluck had touched her scar . . . when Forney Hull had held her in his arms.

And then she knew . . .

a name that means something It came so suddenly that there was no s.p.a.ce between knowing and not knowing . . .

a st.u.r.dy name like two edges of time had slipped together and whatever had been between them was nothing . . .

a strong name It drifted up from somewhere deep inside her, like a piece of music broken free. It touched empty places as it rose, brushed against her heart . . .

9 1.

a name that's gonna withstand a lot of bad times . . .

floated up into the light behind her eyes. Then she felt the shape of it on her tongue, the slip and slide of it through her lips . . .

a lot of hurt and the taste of it as she whispered, "Americus."

"Forney," she said, her voice catching, "I know her name." She smiled at him then. "Americus. It's Americus."