The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers [76]
Her Mama smoothed her dress over her knees and took a quick, short breath. ‘Seems to me like the children’s ward would be a lot better than a private room. When Mick had penumonia--’
‘I said a private room.’
Mister Brannon held out his white, stumpy hands and balanced them like they was on scales. ‘Maybe in a day or two Baby can move into a double room with some other kid.’
Mrs. Wilson spoke hard-boiled. ‘You heard what I said. Long as your kid shot my Baby she certainly ought to have every advantage until she gets well.’
‘You’re in your rights,’ her Dad said. ‘God knows we don’t have anything now--but maybe I can scrape it up. I realize you’re not trying to take advantage of us and I appreciate it. We’ll do what we can.’
She wanted to stay and hear everything that they said, but Bubber was on her mind. When she thought of him sitting up in the dark, cold tree house thinking about Sing Sing she felt uneasy. She went out of the room and down the hall toward the back door. The wind was blowing and the yard was very dark except for the yellow square that came from the light in the kitchen. When she looked back she saw Portia sitting at the table with her long, thin hands up on her face, very still.
The yard was lonesome and the wind made quick, scary shadows and a mourning kind of sound in the darkness.
She stood under the oak tree. Then just as she started to reach for the first limb a terrible notion came over her.
It came to her all of a sudden that Bubber was gone. She called him and he did not answer. She climbed quick and quiet as a cat.
‘Say! Bubber!’ Without feeling in the box she knew he wasn’t there. To make sure she got into the box and felt in all the corners. The kid was gone. He must have started down the minute she left. He was running away for sure now, and with a smart kid like Bubber it was no telling where they’d catch him.
She scrambled down the tree and ran to the front porch. Mrs.
Wilson was leaving and they had all come out to the front steps with her.
‘Dad!’ she said. ‘We got to do something about Bubber. He’s run away. I’m sure he left our block. We all got to get out and hunt him.’
Nobody knew where to go or how to begin. Her Dad walked up and down the street, looking in all the alleys. Mister Brannon telephoned for a ten-cent taxi for Mrs. Wilson and then stayed to help with the hunt. Mister Singer sat on the banisters of the porch and he was the only person who kept calm. They all waited for Mick to plan out the best places to look for Bubber. But the town was so big and the little kid so smart that she couldn’t think what to do.
Maybe he had gone to Portia’s house over in Sugar Hill. She went back into the kitchen where Portia was sitting at the table with her hands up to her face.
‘I got this sudden notion he went down to your house. Help us hunt him.’
‘How come I didn’t think of that! I bet a nickel my little scared Bubber been staying in my home all the time.’
Mister Brannon had borrowed an automobile. He and Mister Singer and Mick’s Dad got into the car with her and Portia.
Nobody knew what Bubber was feeling except her. Nobody knew he had really run away like he was escaping to save his life.
Portia’s house was dark except for the checkered moonlight on the floor. As soon as they stepped inside they could tell there was nobody in the two rooms. Portia lighted the front lamp.
The rooms had a colored smell, and they were crowded with cut-out pictures on the walls and the lace table covers and lace pillows on the bed. Bubber was not there.
‘He been