All Over Creation Read Online Free PDF Page A

Cass, her silver hair hanging down on either side of her face. She shook her head, sternly.
    â€œ Damé! Very bad. He did o-shikko in his pants!”
    Then she stood up as straight as she could, which wasn’t very straight at all, brought her hands to her eyes, and let out a low, keening wail. She shuffled backward, two baby steps, just far enough to bump the backs of her knees against the edge of the tub, whereupon she sat abruptly on the tub’s rim, then kept on going, sliding with her behind first into the smooth porcelain depression. She lay there on the bottom, in a small curl, sobbing quietly.
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    â€œIt’s his heart,” Cass explained for the hundredth time to yet another social worker. “He’s had a couple of heart attacks, plus a bout with colon cancer. He had a colostomy last year and wears a bag, but he can’t change it himself. And she’s pretty senile. They really need services.”
    The social worker nodded. “I agree, but it’s just not practical to be sending aides all the way out to the farm several times a day. In a case like this, usually we recommend one of the children or a family member helping out. . . .”
    â€œI’m not a family member,” Cass said quickly. “I just live next door.”
    â€œDon’t they have any children?”
    â€œA daughter. But nobody knows where she is.”
    â€œHave you asked them?”
    Cass tried, but she knew there was no point. “Lloyd? Can you hear me?”
    Momoko shook her head. “He can hear. He don’t want talking.”
    â€œWouldn’t you like Yummy to come home and take care of you?”
    Lloyd lay perfectly still under the thin sheet.
    â€œHe don’t want nobody,” Momoko said.
    Cass sighed. “Momoko, do you have any idea where Yummy is?”
    â€œYumi?” The old lady’s eyes turned inward. “Oh, yes. She is at whatchamacallit.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œWhere you go for studying.”
    â€œYou mean, like a school? A college?”
    â€œThat’s right,” she nodded. “You know, too. You go to same one. How come you not go today? You sick or something?”
    Lloyd shifted his long legs under the sheet. “She doesn’t know anything,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “We haven’t heard from her in years.”
    â€œI know! I know! You playing hooky!” Momoko screeched with laughter.
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    Will jerked on the sagging screen door to see if he could straighten the hinges.
    â€œDon’t bother,” Cass said. “We’ll have plenty to fix once we take possession.” She looked around the kitchen. The air was close and still, and her voice sounded loud. “I’ll start in here and then go upstairs. You do the living room. Look for bankbooks, too. Maybe they sent her money.”
    Will hesitated. “Bankbooks? That’s awfully personal . . .”
    â€œWhat else can we do? Lloyd said they hadn’t heard from her in years, but that means they heard from her sometime. I want to know when, and where she was living, and—”
    â€œMaybe she phoned.”
    Cass tugged at the top drawer. It stuck. “I’ll bet she wrote. She was always writing things down.” She pulled harder, forced it open.
    The contents illustrated the virtue of thrift gone mad. Nothing had been taken out in years, just added to, until each drawer was crammed full of rusting twisties, wads of cling wrap that had lost its cling, twists of tinfoil filled with crumbs, crumbling rubber bands. There were miniature shower caps made of grimy vinyl for popping over leftovers. Dingy sandwich bags that smelled of old onion. Stained paper towels folded and stacked for reuse. Cass longed to discard, to disinfect, but she finished the kitchen quickly and went upstairs.
    She searched the master bedroom, then continued down the hall to the bedroom that had once been Yummy’s. She