The Tin Can Tree by Anne Tyler Read Free Book Online

Wednesday.”
    “Why does it feel like—?”
    “She blames it on herself,” said Mr. Pike.
    “What?”
    “It breaks my heart. She keeps saying how she was hemming Miss Brook’s basic black at the time—I never
have
liked that Miss Brook—and Janie Rose comes up and says, ‘Mama,’ she says, ‘I’m going off to—’ and Lou just never did hear where. Miss Brook was going on about her bunions. ‘Lou,’ I told her, I said, ‘Lou, I don’t think that would have—’ but Lou says that’s how it come to happen. She
never
let Janie Rose play with those Marsh girls. Never would have let her go, if she had known. But she was—”
    “Never let her ride no tractors, either,” said Simon. “Shakes a girl’s insides all up.”
    “Hush,” Joan told him. “Both of you. There’s not even a dent made in that chicken salad.”
    Her uncle picked his fork up and then leaned across the table toward her. “She
blames
herself,” he said.
    “I know.”
    “She keeps—”
    “
Eat
, Uncle Roy.”
    He began eating. His fork made steady little clinking sounds on the plate, and he chewed rapidly with the crunchy sound of celery filling the silence. When he was done, Joan put another spoonful of salad on his plate and he kept on without pause, never looking up, making his way doggedly through the heap of food. Simon stopped eating and stared at him, until Joan gave his wrist a tap with her finger. Then he started eating again, but he kept his eyes on his father. When Mr. Pike reached for the bowl and dished himself another helping, still crunching on his last mouthful, chewing without breathing, like a thirsty man drinking water, Simon looked over at Joan with his eyes round above a forkful of food and she frowned at him and cleared her throat.
    “Um, Mrs. Hammond phoned today,” she said. “She’s a very
cheering
person, Uncle Roy; maybe Aunt Lou could talk to her later on. I told her to call back in a day or—”
    “Remember Janie Rose?” Simon asked.
    His father stopped chewing. “Remember
what?
” he said.
    “Remember how she did on the telephone? Never answering ‘Hello,’ but saying, ‘I am listening to WKKJ, the all-day swinging station,’ in case WKKJ was ever to call and give her the jackpot for answering that way. Only you know, WKKJ never
did
call—”
    “Simon, I
mean
it,” Joan said.
    “Lou is breaking my heart,” said Mr. Pike.
    “Wouldn’t you feel funny, if you was to call someone that answered like that? ‘I am listening to—’ ”
    “It wasn’t her
fault,
” Mr. Pike said. “Janie never
asked
for no special attention, like. She just kind of—”
    “God in heaven,” Joan said.
    The doorbell rang. It made a sharp, burring noise, and Joan stood up so quickly to answer it that her chair fell over backwards behind her. She let it stay. She escaped from the kitchen and crossed the parlor floor, smoothing her skirt down in front of her, making herself walk slowly. Behind the screen, standing close together with their faces side by side and peering in, were the Potter sisters from next door. They stepped backwards simultaneously so that Joan could swing the door open, and then Miss Faye entered first with Miss Lucy close behind her.
    “We only stopped by for a minute,” said Miss Faye. “We wanted to bring your supper.”
    “Well, come on in,” Joan said. “Really, do. Come out to the kitchen, why don’t you.”
    “Oh, I don’t think—”
    “No, I mean it.” She took Miss Faye by one plump wrist, almost pulling her. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you,” she said.
    “Well, if you really think—”
    They walked on tiptoe, bearing their covered dishes before them like sacred offerings. When they reached the kitchen door, Mr. Pike stood up to greet them and his chair fell backwards too, so that the room with its overturned furniture looked stricken. “Why, Miss, um, Miss Lucy,” he said. “And Miss Faye. I declare. Come in and have a—” and he bent down