Free Tending to Grace by Kimberly Newton Fusco

Bo practices her
u
sounds. “ ‘Muck, luck, truck, stuck,’ ” she reads, her index finger a magnet that pulls her through each word.
    But it’s not Bo that’s making me itch; it’s Agatha. She waits at the table every afternoon for Bo. She looks up from whatever bean she’s snapping or tomato she’s chopping and watches Bo read.
    â€œCorney, I don’t know this word,” Bo says, looking up from her book. I put my knife down, ready to walk over to her, then pick it up again. The itch runs deep. “Ask Agatha,” I say, looking over at my aunt. “I got to get this done.”
    Agatha looks down to the dried beans she’s picking through, hunting for bits of pebble and dirt.
    â€œI’d need glasses for words that small,” Agatha says quickly.

68
    I know it’s him as soon as the car turns up the driveway. We don’t move as he crunches along the gravel to the back door. Even Agatha sits without breathing.
    He looks in at us through the screen, his eyes traveling from Agatha to me and then stopping on Bo. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œPa!” Bo covers the reading book with her hands. Her father unlatches the door without anyone asking him in. Agatha stands. “Pete,” she says. I grab hold of Bo’s hand.
    He ignores us and glares at Bo. “No one said you could come here.”
    â€œSt-st-stop yelling.”
    He turns slowly and stares at me.
    â€œThis is my niece, Pete,” says Agatha. “Now you be calmin’ down.”
    â€œCalm down? What are you talking about? No one said she could come here. What’s going on, anyway?”
    His eyes jump from the reading book to Bo’s paper and pen to Agatha’s beans.
    â€œShe’s l-l-learning to read,” I blurt out, grabbing Bo even tighter.
    That fact catches his attention. “Reading? She reads just fine.”
    When I don’t say anything more, he turns to Agatha.
    â€œWhat is this, you think we need some kind of charity? We don’t need it, that’s for damn sure.” He turns to Bo. “Get out to the car.
Now.
”
    I take a deep breath. “She can’t r-r-r-read hardly at all. She c-c-c-c-could never go to college reading like that.”
    He laughs, sneers. “College? You think I got money to send a
girl
to college?” He grabs Bo’s arm and marches her out of my grasp and out the door.
    I look at my empty hand, unbelieving. I look up at Agatha, but she is sitting back down at the table, slumping into her arms. I take a deep breath.
What now? What now? What now?
I breathe again and run outside as he crunches toward the driveway. “J-j-just wait,” I scream. “She’ll go to college. J-just wait.”

69
    â€œYou could hide a book in these potatoes,” Agatha says a few nights later, walking up from the cellar.
    â€œHow are we g-g-g-going to do that?” I use a towel to wipe whole wheat dough from my hands and walk over to the table.
    â€œLike this.” Agatha pulls a dozen potatoes off the top of a bushel basket and lays them on the table. “Put a couple of books in here like this and we’ll pile these potatoes back on top.” She looks up at me.
    â€œDo you think it could work?”
    â€œBest I can think, it will. Now go get some books.”
    I pull two books off the counter and hand them to Agatha. “He’ll shoot us if he finds out.”
    â€œHe won’t find out. We’ll go when he’s at work.”
    When the basket is filled, I carry it out to the back of the truck. “I forgot
Leo the Late Bloomer,
” I yell to Agatha over my shoulder. “It’s her f-f-f-favorite. Can you get it?”
    â€œYou get it.”
    I heave the basket on the truck. “It’s on the shelf in my r-r-room.”
    She opens the door to the truck and climbs in. “Damn, I forgot the keys.”
    â€œGet the book while you’re in