"Because he was the reason you left."

"Left what?"

"Me."

"Well, that's water under the bridge now," Momma Nell said as she waved her hand through the air, erasing the past. "That's not why I come here, to talk over old times."

"Why did you come?"

"To tell you the truth, I thought you might need some help. Didn't sound like you was doing too good. Living at the Wal-Mart's not my idea of success."

Novalee ran the sheet between her fingers, smoothing it into pleats, working hard to avoid looking at her mother.

"So, how are you going to help me?"

"Oh, I don't know. You got any plans? Someone to help you out?

You got a man?"

Novalee shook her head.

"Where's the p.r.i.c.k put you in this mess?"

"Gone to California."

"That figures. You got a place to live? Or was you planning on moving back to the Wal-Mart?"

108.

"No," Novalee said, trying not to whine, trying not to sound seven years old again.

"Well, you gotta have someplace to take that baby. You give any thought to maybe moving into Sears? How about Kmart? That might be-"

"If you just came here to make fun of me-"

"I told you I come to see if I could give you some help. Look, Novalee, I was working for some a.s.shole at a bar in Baton Rouge, but it was a dump and I wasn't making enough money. Heard it was easy to find work in New Orleans and the money was better, too, then I seen you on television and I think, 'Okay, I'll go see Novalee and her kid.' And here I am."

"She's in the nursery."

"Yeah?"

"I named her Americus. She's so beautiful. She has brown hair, real thick and curly."

"The way yours was when you was a baby."

"I haven't got to see her but just a few minutes because they put her in an incubator as soon as we got here. I can't wait to get out and start taking care of her myself."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"Tomorrow. One of the doctors said tomorrow."

"Any idea where you're going then?"

"Not for sure."

"Well, since I'm not in any hurry to move on, maybe I could find a place. A place for you and the baby and me."

"You mean you'd stay here and-"

"Sure. Help you and the kid till you're on your feet. Rent us an apartment, maybe a duplex. I've got a little money."

"Oh, I've got money."

109.

Novalee reached under her pillow and pulled out the envelope from Sam Walton and the letters and checks that had come in the mail. She handed them to her mother.

"I've got almost six hundred dollars," she said.

"Where did you get this?"

"People I don't even know sent me money. And the man who owns the Wal-Marts, he gave me five hundred dollars and offered me a job, too."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. But with my money and your money, we can probably get a nice place."

"You bet we can."

"And we're gonna need some things for the baby. A bed, maybe a cradle. And some diapers and blankets."

"Sure. She'll need gowns, and booties and-"

"A rocking chair. I want a strong rocking chair. And get her a teddy bear, too. A white one."

Momma Nell was pulling the money out of the envelopes and counting it.

"You think we'll have enough for all that stuff?" Novalee asked.

"Plenty. We have plenty of money."

Momma Nell grabbed her purse and stuffed the money inside it.

"Well, don't you worry about anything. I'll take care of it."

"You want to go down to the nursery and see Americus? I know they'll let you see her if you tell them . . ."

"I better get going. I've got a lot to take care of today, but I'll see her tomorrow."

"Okay. But be here early. Say by nine o'clock."

"Yeah. Nine o'clock." And as suddenly as she had swooped in, she swooped out.

110.

And later that night, after Novalee had napped, when the rooms were dark and the halls quiet, she tried to imagine what kind of place Momma Nell would get for them. She hoped for sunny rooms and winding staircases, for tall windows and broad yellow porches. But she had trouble picturing such places. The rooms in her head were dark, the light hazy and dim.

She tried hard to remember her magazine pictures . . . rooms papered in soft spring flowers, gla.s.s doors overlooking bright gardens, but the images looked blurred, the colors faded.

She covered her head with her pillow, hoping sleep would bring dreams of white cradles, wicker chests and gla.s.s music boxes that, spinning, catch the light.

Early the next morning, after a flurry of release forms and goodbyes, Novalee and the baby were wheeled downstairs by a teenage candy striper with bleached hair and braces. She waited with them for nearly an hour before she reclaimed the wheelchair and wandered away.

Novalee and Americus waited in the lobby until just before noon, and might have stayed there longer, but Novalee thought people were whispering about them, so she took the baby outside to wait on the sidewalk.

She knew then Momma Nell wasn't coming; knew she and the money were gone. But Novalee had no place to go . . . and so she waited.

They were still there at straight up two o'clock when Sister Husband's Toyota came ricocheting up the curbed drive and screeched to a stop. Like a shepherd coming for lost sheep, Sister rounded up Novalee and Americus, herded them into the covered wagon, then raced away, heading for safety . . . heading for home.

Chapter Eleven.

S AM WALTON WAS RIGHT. By the time Americus was a month old, folks were starting to lose interest in the baby born in Wal-Mart. AM WALTON WAS RIGHT. By the time Americus was a month old, folks were starting to lose interest in the baby born in Wal-Mart.

Just out of the hospital, Novalee continued to get mail, forwarded to Sister Husband's. A widow in Dallas sent an invitation to her daughter's wedding and a boy named Moe Dandy sent a bookmark made from a snake. A Sunday School cla.s.s in Topeka sent twenty dollars and a Vietnamese family in Fayetteville sent ten. A ninety-year-old Quapaw Indian named Johnson Bearpaw mailed a sack of worn comics and a five-dollar-bill. Mostly though, Novalee got notes of encouragement and prayers for Americus, but even those tapered off quickly.

Now and then a reporter would phone from Tulsa or Oklahoma City and sometimes an out-of-state call came, someone wanting to know about the child named Americus Nation. Once, a man and his wife came to the door and told Sister Husband they had driven all the 112 way from Midnight, Mississippi, to bring the word of G.o.d to Novalee, but Sister told them she already had it, then gave them a copy of Ecclesiastes and sent them on their way.

The locals were curious and stared as she walked down Main Street on her way to the library. Those who knew who she was pointed her out to those who didn't. When they had family from out of town, they drove them down Sister's street so they could take pictures of her trailer. The clerks in the IGA, where she bought baby talc and Vaseline, were polite and soft-spoken as they handed her change, but winked at each other over the top of her head and made Wal-Mart jokes when she walked out the door.

But she didn't see them, never noticed. She was too busy falling in love with her baby . . . memorizing the soles of her feet and the pattern of thin curls at the back of her neck . . . tracing the curve of her lips while she nursed . . . learning the heft of her hips palmed in one hand . . . listening for her breath in the dark of the night.

Sister had set out to spoil them as soon as she got them moved in.

She would pick Americus up at her first whimper and dance her around the trailer to a music box that played "My Funny Valentine." She cut stars from construction paper and hung them on strings above the crib, claiming babies got their sense of direction from stars.

When Novalee tried to help with the dishes or vacuum the floor, Sister would lead her to the front porch swing and make her sit down.

Whenever she went to town, she brought Novalee some special gift-a plastic barrette shaped like a b.u.t.terfly, a tiny Bible no bigger than a match box, a sample lipstick from the Merle Norman store.

For the first few days at the trailer, Novalee had felt stiff, a bit shy.

She was careful not to use too much hot water and kept her door closed at night. Her speech was polite; she said "thank you," "excuse Where the Heart Is 113.

me," and "please," and always cleaned her plate at the table, even when Sister served her lima beans.

But what changed all that was when Novalee ran into the gas stove. She had just put Americus to sleep after the two o'clock feeding, then slipped down the hall and into the bathroom without making a sound. She eased the door shut behind her and left the light off so it wouldn't shine into Sister's bedroom. Barefooted, feeling her way in the dark, she misjudged the distance and crashed into the heavy old gas stove, cracking her shin against one of the sharp ridges that curved over the jets. The savage thwack of bone against iron splintered the silence just before Novalee bellowed in pain and fell to the floor.

Sister flew out of bed, ran into the bathroom, turned on the light.

"Oh darlin', what happened?"

Novalee, cradling her leg, rocked back and forth in the middle of the floor. The skin along the bony ridge of her shin had been split open-peeled back, sc.r.a.ped to the bone.

"My word. Let's get something on that. I know it must hurt like the d.i.c.kens."

Between clenched teeth Novalee hissed, "d.i.c.kens," while Sister rummaged in the medicine cabinet, talking to herself as she poked through jars and tubes. She found the bottle she was looking for on the top shelf. Kneeling, she took the injured leg firmly in one hand, uncorked the Merthiolate and upended it on Novalee's ravaged flesh.

"Oh, s.h.i.t!" Novalee screamed as she beat her fists on the floor.

"s.h.i.t!"

Suddenly, she froze, her face rigid as she realized what she had said. "Sister . . ." Her voice trailed off into silence.

Sister looked solemn as she eased Novalee's leg to the floor.

"Darlin'." She spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. "Didn't you forget to say please?"

114.

Sister forced her face to frown, then covered her mouth, trying to hide the smile that played at her lips. She choked back the first hard release of air, swallowed the sound of a snicker, then exploded with laughter-laughter that robbed her of breath and made her eyes tear.

Novalee, her color rising, cracked an uncertain grin, holding it just for a moment, just until the first thin squeak slipped out . . . and then it was over. They laughed, they hooted, they squealed, their chests heaving as they gulped for air, until, minutes later, still gasping for breath, they struggled to their feet, then padded to the kitchen, made coffee and talked until dawn.

Novalee told Sister about w.i.l.l.y Jack and the Wal-Mart. She told her about Momma Nell, too, but not about the old stuff, she didn't tell about that. She only talked about her coming to the hospital, running off with the money.

"Nearly six hundred dollars," Novalee added.

"Now just imagine that," Sister said. "Strangers who cared so much about you and that precious baby that they sent their money.

Don't that beat all?"

"I should've known what she'd do."

"But that don't change the goodness of all those folks giving it to you, does it?"

"Sister, I been wanting to ask you. Why did you show up at the hospital when you did? I mean, how did you know?"

"Why, darlin', the Lord has a way of telling us what we need to know."

Novalee nodded her head like she understood, but she didn't. She hadn't understood much of anything that had happened to her. Like when Sister brought her and Americus to the trailer that first day.

Sister had told her if she would just trust the Lord, everything would Where the Heart Is 115.