Nothing to Fear Read Free

something. When she saw that I was all in one piece, she let out a big sigh and gave me a look like I had wounded her mortal soul.
    "Oh, Danny," she said. "What've ya been up to now?"
    I just stood there twisting my cap and staring at my shoes until Sergeant Finnegan escorted me in the door.
    "Daniel home yet, Miz Garvey?" he asked.
    "No," said Mama, "but I'll be expectin' him any minute. Won't ya sit down, Michael?"
    Sergeant Finnegan pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, one leg bent under the rungs, the other sticking straight out like it was made of wood. Obviously he meant to stay and talk to Pa, which didn't thrill me too much. I looked around the room. All the statues and crucifixes and pictures of Jesus and Mary seemed to be staring right at me, their eyes full of sorrow, like I'd broken their hearts. I felt really hot all of a sudden. I tossed my cap onto the icebox, then pulled off my jacket and threw it over a hook by the door.
    Mama's ironing board was set up over by the stove
with a half-ironed tablecloth hanging off it. Behind that, in the tub, another load of wash was soaking in bluing, and outside the window, just beyond the fire escape, a bunch of sheets were flapping in the wind. Folks say nothing's sure in life but death and taxes, but Pa says in our house you can count on one more thing—laundry.
    Maureen sat on a blanket in the middle of the floor taking the coffeepot apart. She was so interested in what she was doing, she hadn't even seen us come in. Her breath came out in little puffs, and a line of drool dripped from her bottom lip.
    "Hey, Mo," I whispered.
    She looked up and smiled a big grin when she saw me.
    "Da!" she said, clapping her little hands together. That's what she calls me—Da, just like she's trying to say Dan, but she can't quite get the
n
out.
    She decided to get up off the blanket. She just learned how to do it, so it takes her a while. She sort of leans forward on her hands, then gets her legs under her and pushes her little bottom up. Then she straightens up quick and sort of balances there a minute with a surprised look on her face. Sometimes she tumbles back down at that point and has to start all over again, but this time she made it.
    "Da," she said, "Da...," toddling over and putting her hands up to me.
    To tell the truth I was real glad to have something to do. I picked her up and gave her a hug.
She's a bonny little thing, and I love her a lot. I didn't think I was ever gonna have any brothers and sisters because Mama doesn't do too good at having babies. She lost a few between me and Maureen, but by the time Maureen came along we had money enough for a hospital. Mama was pretty sick for a while, but everything turned out okay.
    I buried my nose in Maureen's neck. It smelled like the cotton candy they sell down at Coney Island. She giggled and stuck her finger in my mouth.
    Mama was flitting around the kitchen like a canary with a cat peeking in its cage. She picked the blanket and the coffeepot up off the floor. She lugged the laundry and the ironing board back into the spare room. She pushed the irons to the back of the stove and put the kettle on, and she kept apologizing for the mess, which there wasn't any of. I know she was dying to know what I'd done, but I guess she was afraid to ask.
    Sergeant Finnegan kept pulling on his collar like it was too tight as he tried to make small talk. Then he brought up the Whites.
    Mama stopped flitting and dropped heavily into the chair across from him. She pulled a handkerchief from her housedress pocket and twisted it in her hands.
    "Oh, Michael," she said, "what's to become of them?"
    Sergeant Finnegan shrugged and shook his head. "Have they got family?" he asked.
    "Not on Anna's side," Mama said. "Her folks have
had nothin' to do with her since she married Luther. I s'pose they could head back down south where Luther's from..."
    Sergeant Finnegan snorted. "Not if they're smart," he said. "Luther'll get himself lynched