Read Online Night on Fire by Ronald Kidd - Free Book Online Page A

extra.”
    On the table were twin pictures of me. My skin was pink. My hair was red. My eyes sparkled, and my grin flashed. Behind me, the Greyhound bus glinted silver and blue, ready to take me on a journey.
    Grant picked up the photos and handed them to me. “These are yours.”
    I took them, then thought about it and handed one back.
    â€œYou keep this one,” I said.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    We always tried to make Mother’s Day special.
    Daddy and I woke up early that Sunday and tiptoed into the kitchen, where we made sausage and hockey pucks—I mean, pancakes. We were out of syrup, but there was an old jar of strawberry jam left in the back of the fridge, and we pulled that out. I picked some buttercups from the yard and put them in a pickle jar. Daddy woke up Royal and brought him into the kitchen. Then I set everything on a tray and led the way to Mama’s room.
    In the hallway I turned to Daddy and whispered, “Isn’t there a song?”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œFor Mother’s Day. You know, like ‘Deck the Halls’ for Christmas, or ‘Auld Lang Syne’ for New Year’s.”
    Daddy thought about it. “Not that I know of.”
    He held open the bedroom door, and I walked through, singing “Happy Mother’s Day to you …”
    Okay, it was weak. But Mama beamed anyway, like she was at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in New York City, where Life magazine said Miss Harper Lee liked to eat. I was just happy to see Mama smile.
    Daddy got the Sunday paper, and after breakfast I sat next to Mama on the bed and read it with her while Daddy played with Royal on the floor. Mama and I went through the comics, of course, including my favorites, Flash Gordon and Peanuts . There was a cartoon saying “Every day is Mother’s Day”—Mama liked that—and a sappy poem in the ad for Long’s Funeral Home.
    The sun shone on the bed. I rested my head on Mama’s shoulder. Daddy ruffled Royal’s hair. It was just the four of us in our own little world. Daddy winked at me. Royal laughed. Mama glowed. Sometimes I think it was the last good moment.
    When we finished the comics, I slipped into the other room and brought back the straw handbag, which I’d wrapped in tissue paper the night before.
    â€œDucks!” said Mama when she tore it open. “I love ducks!”
    â€œI thought you loved peacocks,” said Daddy.
    Mama hugged Royal and me; then Daddy presented his card and gift. The gift was so big he couldn’t get it onto the bed. Mama had to open it on the floor. She ripped through several miles of ribbon and wrapping paper, and underneath found a giant cardboard box, which Daddy helped her open with his pocket knife.
    â€œA vacuum cleaner!” said Mama finally. “How romantic.”
    Personally, I didn’t think it was that romantic. Maybe Mama didn’t either.
    Daddy shrugged. “You’ve been talking about keeping the house clean. I thought this would help.”
    Mama flashed a stiff little smile. “Lavender will be thrilled.”
    Down the other side of our hill, toward town, was the Wayside Baptist Church, where we went on Sundays. It was a little brick building with a sign out front.
    God couldn’t be everywhere, so he made mothers .
    It was another one of Pastor Bob’s gems. There was a different message each week. Daddy said the guy spent more time on the sign than he did on his sermons.
    That morning, Mama carried her Bible in the straw handbag. We took Royal to the nursery, then sat in our usual spot on the aisle five rows from the front, which I liked because you could see out the window. I watched Jimmy McReedy work on his motorcycle next door, revving the engine every so often and drowning out Pastor Bob. It was just as well, because the sermon was about Mary, the mother of Jesus. The problem was, I think Pastor Bob got her mixed up with another Mary. I have to say, though, I couldn’t