Zigzagging Down a Wild Trail Read Online Free Page A

died the year before and that Joe had been despondent. He left a will naming Jackie as godparent. Miraculously, after some red tape in a rose-brick court building, Jackie left Oklahoma with the child. Jackie was forty-four and her half sister was almost five. Jackie, long accustomed to the disappointment of having no children of her own, realized that children scared her a little. She felt like a kidnapper.
    Tobrah, the child, had not been taken to the funeral, and she didn’t seem curious about where her father was. On the airplane, escaping Jackie’s questions, she zipped up and down the aisle, talking to passengers. Jackie wasn’t used to a child’s random energy—the way she squirmed and bounced in the seat, her hands and body busy but her manner oblivious. In the dark apartment that Jackie had cleaned out, she found only a few possessions of Tobrah’s—some small toys, a doll and a teddy bear, several T-shirts and pairs of shorts.
    â€œAren’t you cold?” Jackie asked, as she reached up to swivel the air stream away.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhen we get home I’ll buy you some jeans,” Jackie said. “And a sweatshirt. What’s your favorite color?”
    â€œGreen.”
    â€œGreen? Mine’s blue.”
    â€œI don’t like blue.”
    When Tobrah dropped off to sleep, Jackie located a blanket in the overhead compartment and draped it over the little girl. The Army blanket was in Jackie’s suitcase, tucked away in the plane’s belly. The airline blanket was bright blue and made of some kind of foamy synthetic material. Outside, the clouds billowed like a bubble bath.
    â€œWhat makes you think you can afford to bring up a kid?” Jackie’s mother asked when Jackie brought Tobrah to meet her. Tobrah was on the back porch playing with Lorraine’s mop-like lap dog. Lorraine lived in a small wood-frame house in an old section of town.
    Jackie ignored the question. Her mother had the same attitude about anything—a new car, an appliance, even splurging on a night out. She had a gallon jug full of coins.
    â€œDo you reckon that hair’s bleached?” Lorraine asked.
    â€œWe’ll just have to wait and see,” Jackie said impatiently.
    Tobrah had a dark complexion, and her hair was a short, tight mass of light curls, darker at the roots. Her eyes were topaz, and her new green T-shirt made flecks of green sparkle in them.
    â€œThat name sounds foreign,” said Lorraine.
    She kept tapping her cigarette in a crowded ashtray. Her gray laminated table had cigarette burns on it. The walls were yellowed from gas-furnace fumes. Jackie’s mother had let her place go since she retired from work. She had been a floor-lady for thirty years, and now all she wanted to do was sit. She got on Jackie’s nerves.
    Tobrah crashed through the door, the dog yapping excitedly at her heels. She demanded a drink of water, and as she gulped from the glass Jackie gave her, she continued to play with the dog—nudging and poking, twisting her body, giggling.
    â€œHoney, tell me something,” said Lorraine, hugging Tobrah. “Where did you get that name of yours? Did your mama give it to you?”
    â€œFrom a story,” she said, holding the glass up for Jackie to take.
    â€œDoes it mean something?”
    Tobrah wriggled out of Lorraine’s grasp and grabbed a ragged piece of chewed rawhide from the floor.
    â€œDo you want us to call you Toby?” Lorraine asked.
    â€œNo.” Tobrah pulled at her hair. She scooped up the dog and went out the back door again.
    â€œWell!” said Lorraine, with a sigh of smoke. “What do you make of that?”
    â€œShe won’t talk about her mother—or about Daddy either,” Jackie said. “I already tried.”
    Tobrah had told Jackie she didn’t remember her mother. She said her father was away on a long trip. He might not be back, she said.
    It was true