Tiny Little Shanks to the Heart" (Tiny Little Shanks is how we called him back then). The baby girl was also called that—tiny little Shanks. "The poor orphan," Auntie Edie said, "for I will be going away to England. No one can take care of the baby." Grandfather nodded. "I've got some kin in Maine. It is not far. You take the baby and go there. Your grandmother thinks you will be better with those folks than with us. You go in the morning." Grandfather spoke firmly and clearly. He was a man who knew things about the world. He had traveled all over the world, and that meant he had seen more things than I knew. Even so, he used to be a schoolteacher who also raised chickens and beans and corn, and it was that way even before the war. I didn't know anything about that world, but that's not why I went with Mother and Auntie Edie to Maine. No, we were going to find out why Auntie Edie was so sad, and whether that sadness was about me, I didn't know. I did not want to cry, because I was glad we were going away from the orphanage. I knew, though, that I would miss little sister Shanks. I didn't remember much from her short life—a year or so. The orphanage told me she had had convulsions and died. But her mother, who lived right outside the orphanage, had said she was a strong child and her body might have died from too much screaming. At night, though, a lot of memories of her lived on—and of Father, and of her having laughed when he made a funny face. I would miss her. I asked Grandfather that night, "When are we going to Auntie Edie's?" Grandfather nodded to Auntie Edie. Auntie Edie answered, "In a few days, I think. So I can wash and clean up the little house and keep your little mother and you away from those other children. The ones who are always getting in trouble. And I will be able to take care of her too. The one called Shanks who died. So, you see, I will be good for you and Mother, but I'll miss her." I didn't have to see Mother to know she would miss Auntie Edie too. It was the worst time in our life. I worried about Auntie Edie too, but not as much as I worried about Mother. The children who lived in the orphanage made me think about the day Father would come. A day full of new people, new food, and even though there would be the same old dishes, the smells of food that made me sick to my stomach now that I didn't know what the food was. And after that, all I could see was our new house, our new big house in the world. But when I was at Auntie Edie's, all that would go away. And so, like a big fool, I gave away all my food, even before we got to Auntie Edie's. Then Auntie Edie had to think about how much food she was cooking, so it could be too much for the kids. That's when she started giving me milk instead of tea. Milk would help me lose weight, because I was getting fat, but it would help me grow too. And when I was hungry, I ate all the time. One thing about Auntie Edie was she would clean a mess and clean it right away. That was what she was doing while I asked her how long she had known that Father was coming. He was coming in the winter so Mother could take care of little sister Shanks without Auntie Edie. But all that time, Father could have come and kept us too. Grandfather said Father was bad. I did not understand why. It made me so sad. I always thought I'd have a family, but now they were gone. I didn't want to hear about Auntie Edie's family from Grandfather either. Auntie Edie's father was a drunk. She did not remember him or her mother, and she never talked about that time. The orphans told me she was taken away when she was a baby and did not see her father until she was twelve. When she was taken away, her mother found her body in the same place, on the same bed, that her mother had died on. Her body said "the poor orphan," and Auntie Edie's mother died a few weeks later. The orphans told me that Auntie Edie's mother had been crazy to take that baby, because she got so angry whenever the other kids talked about babies and her baby was lost. So she became mean and mean, and one day she beat her daughter so badly she broke her legs, not only the legs, but the arms and her back too. The orphans were too scared to take the broken limbs away from her, so they locked her in the room with them. She was there for days before she died. They don't know why she got like that. They told me the crazy woman was never right in the head after that, and even though she was old now, she still was not right in the head. That's why her legs had to be splinted at night, and kept straight up in bed all the time. I did not understand what they meant by all of that, because I was too young to have understood it myself. That was why I cried, because I wanted my mother. That's why I cried when I was hungry, because I had a bad feeling inside and I didn't understand. Auntie Edie said, "You do not cry. It will go away. I know what you are thinking." And when I cried, she hugged me and said, "It will be all right, and you'll be okay too. Soon, we will find out who these bad men are and it will all go away. You wait and see." Grandfather said, "You can cry if you want, but you must get the last of the milk and the last of the milk. And put some tea on to keep you awake." He said, "The orphanage says I'm not supposed to leave you on your own, but they don't know what they are talking about." Grandfather had a strong voice, not like my father's or my mother's, but it was strong enough. Auntie Edie said, "Maybe that is why I became like this. Because I had to fight for them." She had to fight for the orphans? That was crazy talk. It didn't sound like the orphans. And maybe that was why I had been lost so long. They took me, and I never had the chance to cry and get things out of my head. That was a terrible thing to do, because I knew what happened. And though I thought my father would come, I knew I needed my mother. Grandfather said, "I never liked that part of the country, but you need the milk, and it's too far from here. Maybe you should take your chance with the bad men, even if it is what you want to do." That was a long time ago. Now I know what that means. It is like an accident. If you are lucky, you'll have a lot of pain, but you live. If you're unlucky, it's a lot of pain and no life. The orphanage didn't tell me, because it couldn't have meant anything to me. I thought my mother was dead. # **NINETEEN** I WAITED FOR MY MOTHER AND AUNTIE Edie all day. Then I ran to the train that was going back to the orphanage. I didn't think of going home that first day, and I didn't ask to go home either. It was that or Auntie Edie's. I decided to go to the orphanage. But I didn't think that anyone would take me in, because I was the baby and the ugly girl. I did not want my mother to come back for me, because I had heard that she was mean too, but I needed her and I thought she would come back for me. She would think that I would be better off with her, and she would stay away. I would just have to wait and see. That's what Auntie Edie would say too. She knew everything about it. My stomach felt so good that morning, and I was really glad to see Auntie Edie that day. Auntie Edie was in her room, unpacking her suitcase and putting her clothes away. "I was packing to go away," she said, "but when I came up here and saw you, it all went away. Where's my suitcase? Well, I had to get rid of it. What can you do. You are what you are." Auntie Edie seemed a lot happier than she had been, and it was better when she talked to me, even if she did think that I needed to be beaten. "All right, little Shanks. You want to be beaten. Go up there, and if you still have feelings when you come down again, I will have to beat you. I want you to be good and not talk back to your mother and make trouble for yourself." I knew she would beat me if