Before You Were Mine: the breathtaking USA Today Bestseller

‘I was marinadin’ the chicken this morning, ’n’ I were just going through everythin’ for tonight, an’ I was cleanin’ and I remembered I didn’t have any pickles, an’ you know how Pa loves his pickles, so I drove over to the store –’

‘You drove all the way to the store for pickles?’

‘You ain’t listenin’, Tommy.’

‘I’m listenin’ all right. You’re tellin’ me you drove all that way for a jar of darn pickles. You know how much gas –’

‘Tommy, stop. I drove over – I don’t know what I were thinkin’ – somethin’ ’bout the marinade or such like and I were runnin’ late, my mind elsewhere. I slipped on somethin’ or other on the floor –’

‘Where?’ Tommy took another slurp of his beer.

‘At the store. The pickles, they just flew everywhere –’

‘Could sue them for that.’

Eli took a deep breath. ‘The next thing you know, I’m on the floor, lying in picklin’ vinegar, my hand all cut up on the glass an’ there she were. Right in front of me. She bandaged my hand, Tommy.’ She held out her arm, her last words pronounced.

Tommy stared at her, incredulous.

‘She were there, Tommy. I’m sure of it.’

‘Sure you didn’t hit your head?’

‘Tommy, I think it were her.’ Eli felt her eyes glass over again.

‘Honey, calm down; it’s ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous.’

Eli shook her head and said nothing.

‘It’s been what …’ Tommy furrowed his brow, calculating the time ‘… thirty-two years, an’ you think ya saw her, jus’ like that.’

Eli raised her eyebrows towards him and looked away.

‘Look, I know.’ Tommy raised his hand to calm her. ‘But think about it, you’ve never seen her –’

‘That’s not true. I held her,’ Eli said. She snapped her jaws together.

‘I know. Not what I meant.’ Tommy wiped the sweat on his brow with his upper arm. ‘I’m just sayin’, think about it. You’ve not seen her … since … hell, since she were born. You don’t know what she look like and why in hell’s name would you go bumpin’ into her in the goddamn store? She don’t even live in this state no more.’

Eli looked towards the floor. A tear snaked its way down her cheek.

‘I was sure it was her,’ Eli said, almost to herself.

Tommy took the last swig of his beer, crushed the can, and threw it in the trash.

‘It looked like her.’

‘Jesus, Eli, you don’t know what she look like.’ Tommy laughed.

Eli’s eyes welled up. ‘She looked like me.’

Tommy stifled his laugh this time. ‘Honey, it weren’t her.’ He leaned back into the fridge and grabbed another tin of beer.

‘You think I just paddled up from crazy creek, don’t you?’

‘I think you just got yourself all worked up over nothin’.’ He rubbed his hand against her arm. He looked at the marinated chicken on the sideboard. ‘What time they say they’re comin’?’

‘Just after six.’ Eli’s mouth crumpled at the side.

Tommy walked towards the stairs and turned. ‘Sure you’re up to it?’

Eli frowned.

‘Mean, your hand. Don’t need it looked at?’

‘Tommy, they’re comin’. It’s Pa’s birthday. Go get yourself cleaned up.’

Tommy shrugged and lumbered up the stairs and stopped halfway. ‘Seein’ you bandaged up like that makes me think of ol’ stumpy.’

Eli couldn’t help but smile. She shook her head as Tommy headed up to his bath.

Stumpy had been a raccoon Eli had found one afternoon soon after they married. It was rattling around in a trashcan, thrashing about, unable to get out. She’d been out in the yard, pinning up some laundry, when she heard something scratching against the metal. Thinking it was some big ol’ rat, she tipped the can over with a stick and ran to the other side of the yard.

But instead, this raccoon limped out and stared at her. No running away, nothing. Eli stood, wet washing in her hands, and stared right back. Neither of them moved an inch. Eli tiptoed towards it and crouched down. Still it didn’t move. Eli had heard tales about how vicious raccoons could bite and tried to shoo it away with her stick, but it just stared up at her, its black eyes shining against the sunlight.

Eli peered closer. Its back leg was all bent up and out of shape. No wonder it hadn’t run anywhere. It must have broken its leg when it fell into the trashcan. She couldn’t bear to see it injured and so she went into the house, dug out some potted meat from the pantry, and left a plate of it out in the yard right next to the raccoon. It ate it all up and still didn’t move.

Eli spent the afternoon perched on a chair, just watching this miserable thing staring up at her, limping around in circles. There was no point taking it to a vet; they’d just laugh at her and tell her to shoot it. So instead, Eli found some kindling out back, some linen bandages in the kitchen, and made the raccoon a splint.

Tommy’s face was a picture when he got on home. She nursed that raccoon back to health every day. Months later, when she went into the yard to feed it, it was gone. Never to be seen again. Sometimes in the night, when they heard clattering outside, one of them would say: ‘There goes ol’ Stumpy.’ And laugh ’til their bellies hurt.

Eli stood in the kitchen, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration, trying to recall everything that had happened today. Her heart thumped against her chest. She glanced towards her bandaged hand and shook her head. Of course she was confused. Why after all this time would she think it was her daughter? Silly ol’ goat.

CHAPTER 4

I hadn’t returned to school after you’d come and gone. I don’t think anyone noticed, or if they did, they didn’t let on. No notes from the teachers to my parents informing them of my absence. No meetings in the headmaster’s room. No room at the inn.

It took approximately two and a quart’ hours to walk from the cotton field along the creek, down to the back of the mill. I’d timed it, so that by the time I got to the creek, I could cut across the water, into the clearing, and lie there looking up at the sky, timing myself how long I could stare at the sun. One Mississippi, two Mississippi. Daisy and I hadn’t got much further than two Mississippis last year, but I wanted to show her I could do it.

Bert had told us once that if we could get to six Mississippis that we’d be closer to the Lord and He would grant any wish we wanted. But no matter how fast I counted, I still turned my head at two Mississippis. If I could get a second closer to my wish, I knew it’d be OK. But the bright light that penetrated my pupils forced me to look away and however many times I tried, however fast I counted, however much I wished, I just knew that Jesus wasn’t looking.

I’d lie there until the sun had gone over the back of the woods and then I’d wander along the water, taking off my shoes and socks, strolling through the brook. I knew that if I walked at a steady pace, then I’d get to Jefferson Hill just before lunch, where I’d usually climb up.

If you stood on the very top, you’d be able to see the school across the town, where everyone would be playing. You couldn’t really make out faces, but I knew where she usually hung out and I could kind of see Daisy with a couple of the other girls. They’d play hopscotch until the bell had rung and then dart back inside for the afternoon lessons. As the lunch bell rang and the last dot disappeared from my view, I’d gaze across the houses, the fields, way beyond the town, and I’d search for you. I knew you were out there, bundled up tight in somebody’s arms, clutching someone’s finger. Not mine.

My breasts still leaked with milk, aching for your lips. I’d look out and think of you, carried across some state or other, where my Ma said you’d gone. I peered as far as the eye could see and I imagined your tiny fingers, reaching out for mine – our hearts engorged, my blood running through your veins.

I felt the sweltering heat beat on my back. I paddled through the creek to cool me down. When I crossed back over to the other bank, my stomach would always roll over, partly from hunger ’cause I never took anything to eat, and partly at the thought of returning to the town, where people could barely lift their heads to look at me.

I’d spend my days skulking around the house, keeping from under my Ma’s feet. Suppertimes became more silent and the sense of my family’s detachment became stronger as each day passed. My brothers would continue in their boisterous manner, teasing my Ma and arm-wrestling my Pa, whilst I sat silently waiting for them to tickle me, ruffle my hair, and do the things they used to do.

However, I knew deep down inside the disgrace they felt. I noticed how my Ma would wait until my Pa had left for work and then she would often catch the bus to the next town for her groceries, to avoid folk whispering the way they do.

Don’t get me wrong, Pa Bell was still a strong presence in Springfield, and I’d heard them congratulate and backslap him right there in front of me, about his good Christian values and how Jesus would be proud of them supporting me the way they did. It was my parents’ faith that kept my room open for the time being. Not faith in their daughter, but in the Son of God. Thank the Lord, for the roof over my head. Good Christian values are the bread and butter of society.

But I saw in my Ma’s eyes the shame and humiliation I had brought to their home, and no matter how many Mississippis I counted, I knew I’d be blind before my wishes would be granted.

I decided to set my alarm a good hour before the house awoke. The sun had already begun to rise and I could hear the faint sounds of the mill in the quiet of the morn. Tiptoeing downstairs, I shut the kitchen door behind me, opened the window for a little breeze, and set to. I had helped my Ma prepare breakfast over the years, but I had never cooked it all alone. I wanted today to be just perfect.

Perching on the chair, I reached to the back of the cupboard and pulled out the white linen cloth that my Ma used for Sunday best. I laid it out on the table. Setting out the plates and cutlery as quietly as I could, I then hurriedly prepared their coffee and juice, when I heard the first stirrings upstairs. I knew the creaking of the boards meant that my Ma had awoken, so anxiously I poured her coffee into the hand-painted china cup her aunt had left her, brushed my apron down, and waited to hear her gently pitter-patter down the oak stairs. Despite the sun that was streaming through the window, I sensed it must’ve been a little chilly that morning, as I’m sure my hand began to shake.

I knew I’d surprised her, because as soon as she opened the kitchen door she stopped dead in her tracks. Offering her the cup and saucer, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of my face. I hoped she’d take the cup from my hand, so that I could open the window further to get some more fresh air. But after what seemed like a minute, she snatched it from me and poured it down the sink. After gently washing the china cup, she dried it and placed it back in the top cupboard, where it had sat for almost ten years. Whipping the cloth from the table, she re-laid it with the usual grass mats I had left in the drawer, and without a word she prepared the boys’ breakfast.

After the boys had gone to work and the quiet of the house rested heavily on my Ma’s shoulders, we worked through that day’s chores. I offered to sweep the front of the house, so as not to get in her way. I spent the morning clearing up as much of the dusty road – that had drifted onto the porch – as possible. No matter how gently you swept the broom along the wooden slats, the grit would dance up into the air and into your eyes, causing them to itch and water.

Nearing lunchtime, I saw through the window that my Ma was preparing my Pa and brothers’ food, which she would take over with a bottle of cool soda for each of them. Creatures of habit, my brothers would close up the garage at midday and sit in the shade eating their subs with their oily hands, playing cards, day in, day out.

My Ma tapped on the window and beckoned me in. Resting the broom handle on the doorframe, I skipped into the house, hoping she had poured me an ice-cold soda too, so that I could wash away the dust that had covered the back of my throat; but instead she passed me my brothers’ and Pa’s lunch bag and told me to hurry over there before they left for the auctions.

Grabbing the bag and running across the back of town as fast as I could, my eyes began to water more. Through the blur, I could see the garage gates still open. Situated between the launderette and the wrecker’s yard, the old rusting sign ‘Bell’s Autos’ protruded into the blue sky like a beacon. I could see my Pa’s pickup wasn’t parked outside, but peering around the side of the entrance, I spotted a pair of dirty overalls poking out the end of a car.

Assuming it was Bert or Samuel – as my Pa usually took Payton out to the auctions to show him the ropes – I gently tapped the greasy feet with my shoe and placed their bag of food on top of the car bonnet. Everywhere I looked was cluttered with tools and cans and papers. Expecting Bert to huff and puff his way from under the car, as though I’d stopped him from ever mending it, I backed out of the yard, ready to run all the way home.

‘They’re still up at the auction in Jonestown. Went this morning instead.’

I didn’t recognize the voice at first, and only when I turned and saw his bright red hair, did I blush from head to toe. I remembered my Pa had mentioned taking on an extra pair of hands. Since the mechanics in Mallory had shut down in the spring, Pa had been inundated with repairs. Despite him having my brothers to help, there still appeared to be enough work for more.

I remember I stuttered a lot and tried to think of something smart to say, but seeing as it had been a while since someone had actually spoken to me, I merely looked down to my shoes with my blurred vision and awkwardly rubbed my eyes.

‘Got summat in your eye? Want me to take a look?’

I think as he stepped forward, I stepped back and tripped over my own darn feet. Gaining my balance again, I pointed over to the bag of food I’d left on the bonnet and hoped he’d realize why I’d come over.

He turned to see what I was pointing at, then he looked back at me and smiled, and I tell you, the dryness in my throat almost trapped my swallow like a cobra. I hadn’t had a smile from anyone in months and my heart just about knew it. As he stepped further forward, I remember hearing the pickup nearing, but I didn’t turn to look as I just wanted to see his grin for a moment longer before it disappeared. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three …

I should have known they’d toot the horn, but it still didn’t stop me from jumping out of my skin. I heard them all laughing and jeering as per usual, as they tumbled out of the truck. All those times when I was growing up, I’d hate them ruffling my hair or picking me up and swinging me around as they clowned around in front of each other, but my Lord, how I missed it now.

As soon as I saw Tommy turn back to the car, I spun around and ran from the garage, taking his smile with me. Skipping along the main drag, past Mrs Kelland – who when not peering into her gin bottle, washed the town’s dirty laundry at the launderette – and back towards the house.

Pausing for breath, I finally managed to swallow. Glancing back over my shoulder, I looked up to the sky and saw the garage’s rusty sign shadowing the piercing sun. Taking a deep breath, I watched and waited until it popped back out from behind the sign, and I continued back on home.

CHAPTER 5

Tommy lay in the bath, his pinky-white tummy protruding out of the soapy water. His breath was shallow. His hands trembled. How could this be? He didn’t think for a second it could be her, but Eli believed it. How in hell’s name had she got that idea into her head? Why now, after all this time?

No, he’d seen her like this before. Years ago. But it just seemed so ridiculous. What had she said? She ‘looked’ like her? Why would she even think that? She didn’t know what the hell she looked like. But, what if it had been her? God no, now he was being a fool.

Tommy sat up. The water splashed over the top. Small foamy puddles collected on the wooden floor. He took a slurp of beer. He really didn’t want Eli getting herself wound up again. And not tonight. It was bad enough having to have her family over for supper, never mind with this on her mind.

Tommy could have done without them here. Didn’t he spend enough time with them at the garage? He shook his head at the thought of Eli’s Ma. Oh, he coped with her all right. He’d put up with her for the past God knows how many years, but he hated the way she always found a way of putting Eli down. Wasn’t she tired of it? He wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it half the time. And why Eli put up with it, he couldn’t understand. After everything, even now, she tried to please her Ma.

Tommy respected Pa Bell. A man of few words, like himself. He’d given him a break at the garage all those years back, but still, a dinner with Trudy lauding something or other over Eli made him shake his head.

He heard Eli mooching around downstairs. The smell of fried chicken wafted through the crack under the door. Did she realize how absurd she was being? He hated what had happened to her. Hated it. And he hated himself for it even more.

Tommy leaned back down in the tub and splashed warm water over his face. The thought made him sick even now. It was never going away. No matter how many years passed, how much they tried, there was no denying she was out there. Somewhere. But to think Eli had bumped into her, just like that. It was crazy talk.

Tommy knew Eli hadn’t forgotten her. Of course she hadn’t forgotten her. He hadn’t forgotten her. But they had managed to work their way through these years, without even mentioning her. What use was it? She was gone.

But gone where?

How could Eli not go through life, glancing at faces, wondering if that was her? He’d seen the way she was around children when they were younger. Hell, hadn’t he done the same? Not so much looking for her, but the thought of what could have been. Jesus, even now, it hurt. Tommy whacked his hand down into the water. They should have had kids. A whole bunch of them. But no, life seemed fit to punish them, and for what? Eli would have made an incredible Ma. Look at the way she treated him, treated his own Ma when she was alive.

Tommy thought about all the years gone by. How out of the blue, he’d seen Eli go rigid, the colour draining from her face when she saw some news item or other and leaned towards the television, staring at some random young woman. She hadn’t noticed he’d noticed, too tied up with thoughts jangling around her head, wondering if it was her. But he had, and he’d seen how anxious she would get for weeks after, how distracted she would be until finally, she’d be back to normal again.

They never talked about it. Hell, he wouldn’t even know what to say. He’d come home sometimes and see her eyes were red, but even when he mooted something was up, she’d snap at him and tell him it was just the dust. So he just put it down to ‘women’s things’ and nothing more would be said.

Yes, it’d be just one of those times. It’d be forgotten about, just like the others.