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She turned her efforts back to the oven. The cleanser had done its work, and the grime came off easier than she expected. It didn’t appear new when she finished—there were still scorch marks on both sides, impossible to remove—but she suspected it was cleaner than it had been in years. Once that was done, she got the beans soaking in water from the tap.
The sight of the beans reminded her that she should probably eat—she hadn’t had anything all day—but she didn’t want to break her rhythm. Instead, she wiped the counters, paying special attention to the corners, and scrubbed at the lime stain in the sink.
Climbing onto the counter to wipe down the upper cabinets, she again noticed minor grease stains on the wall and ceiling. Dragging out the stepladder, she started in on the ceiling, spraying cleanser with one hand and scrubbing with the other. When her arms got tired—which they did a lot—she shook them, then went back to work. The walls came next. Neither the ceiling nor the walls had to be perfect, of course—just clean enough for the primer and paint to stick—but it still took almost three hours to finish.
Afterward, she put the cleansers and stepladder away, set the rags on top of the washer, and finally made her way to the shower. She luxuriated in the spray of hot water and her own sense of accomplishment.
In front of the mirror, she dressed and, after towel-drying her hair, brushed out the tangles. Tommie would be home from school soon.
She waited on the stump out front, idly watching the fieldworkers in the distance, until she heard the low-throated rumble of the bus resonating in the oppressive heat. As Tommie rose from his seat at the rear of the bus, she stood. Watching him through the bus window, she wished that he’d been in the midst of a conversation with one of the other kids and would linger at the door while saying goodbye. But he didn’t; he simply stepped off and trudged toward her as though his backpack, and life, were weighing him down. She reached for the backpack, offering a quick wave to the driver, who waved in return.
“How was school?” she asked as the bus pulled away.
Tommie shrugged, but this time she smiled, knowing it had been a dumb question. Her mom used to ask her the same thing, but school was always just…school.
She ran her hand through his hair. “How about an apple when we get inside? I went to the store today.”
“Did you buy Oreos?”
“Not this time.”
He nodded. “Then I guess an apple will be okay.”
She squeezed his shoulder and the two of them walked into the house together.
Tommie had no homework—there was never homework in first grade, thank God—so after she handed him an apple, they did a bit of exploring around the property. Not that there was much to see other than the barn that was definitely off-limits, which looked older than the house and would likely fall down as soon as the next storm hit. Still, they eventually found a meandering creek shaded by dogwood trees. She wasn’t sure how she knew what kind of trees they were, just as she wasn’t sure how she knew they bloomed in the spring. She assumed she must have read it somewhere. When Tommie tossed the apple core into the water, she had an idea, something from her own childhood.
“Let’s see if there are any tadpoles, okay? Take off your shoes and socks.”
After Tommie’s feet were bare, she rolled up his pant legs, then did her own. They walked into the water, not far, but the bank was shallow.
“What’s a tadpole?” Tommie asked.
“It’s a baby frog,” she said. “Before it gets legs.”
Bending over, they walked slowly, and Beverly spotted the familiar black wiggling creatures. Tommie wasn’t sure how to catch them, so Beverly bent lower, making a cup with her hands. She scooped one out, holding it for her son so he could see. For the first time since they’d been at the house, she saw what seemed to be excitement and wonder in his expression.
“That’s a tadpole? And it’s going to turn into a frog?”
“Soon,” she said. “They grow pretty fast.”
“But these aren’t the frogs I heard last night, right?”
“No. Those were grown-up frogs. But maybe we should let this guy go, so he can get back to the water, okay?”
She let the tadpole go while Tommie hunted for another one. It didn’t take long before he tried to scoop one into his hands, only to have it escape. On his third effort he was finally able to show her. Again, his expression warmed her heart, and she felt a surge of relief at the idea that he would eventually get used to living in a place like this.
“Can I bring some to school for show-and-tell? On field day?”
“Field day?”
“The teacher said that instead of school, kids stay outside all day. And there’s a big show-and-tell.”
Beverly dimly remembered such days when she’d been in elementary school: There were races and games and prizes, and the fire department brought a truck, and parent volunteers brought cookies and cupcakes and other snacks. She recalled that her mom had shown up for one of them, but for whatever reason she’d been asked to leave, and Beverly could remember how she’d stomped off, shouting at everyone.
“When is field day?”
“I’m not sure exactly. But it’s this week for sure.”
