Still House Pond (11 page)

“My granny does.”

“Your granny doesn't live on Troublesome.”

“You know what your problem is? You don't have any mind's eye.”

“I do too have a mind's eye.”

“Do not,” Kate replied, pointing to a corner of the kitchen. “Mark a
P
here. We have to have a pantry.”

Lilly wanted to toss the piece of shale into the creek, but she scribed a big
P
instead. Despite herself, she always got caught up in Kate's games.

“Now, husband,” Kate said, “our children are hungry. We must think of dinner.”

“Do our children have names?”

“I think Amelia for Molly and August for Mazy. Those are my favorite names.”

“Do I get a say?” Lilly asked.

“No, silly, you're the husband.” Kate made like she was tying an apron around her neck. Reaching up, she pulled four leaves from a low-hanging sycamore branch. She put them neatly on the rock as if she set a table. “Children,” she said to August and Amelia, “you need to busy yourself in the other room. Mommy is cooking dinner.”

Lilly stood there for a minute wondering how Kate would keep Molly and Mazy from tearing up the plates, but that wasn't her problem. She was going fishing. With the heel of one hand, she shelled a few kernels of corn and then went looking for a crawdad hole. She found a fine, two-story mud stack near the creek bank, but she couldn't bring herself to tear it down. Surely she could find one that the raccoons had already torn the top off of. Raccoons loved crawdads.

Just a few steps away she found what she was looking for. She crouched and looked down the tower. Two beady black eyes stared back at her. Sensing a threat, the crawdad waved his claws and twitched his antennae. Lilly dropped a piece of corn into the hole. If a crawdad could look surprised, this one did. Lilly didn't know if crawdads actually ate corn, but she knew it piqued their curiosity.

“Manna from heaven.” Lilly stuck another kernel near the top of the hole. Then she sat, positioning herself so she could keep an eye on her sisters, and waited. It took a lot of patience to catch a crawdad. She might not have a good imagination, but she had an abundance of patience. Kate was the baby of her family, so she probably didn't have any. It took babies to teach you endurance. Sticky, crying, spitting-up, smelly babies. She liked being around them, though.

Aha! Mr. Crawdad's antennae poked into daylight. Lilly pounced. She pinched him right behind his head and lifted him out. “Oh, you're a fine one.”

“Look, honey,” she said to her wife. “I caught a fat fish for our supper.”

“Wonderful, husband,” Kate said. “Tear his head off and I'll cook him.”

“Kate Jasper, I will not tear this crawdad's head off.”

“Well, I can't bear to put him in the skillet with those eyes staring at me,” Kate said.

“I know—let's pretend I take his head off.”

“Good idea. Now wash up for supper. I've fixed potatoes your favorite way.”

Lilly went and put the crawdad back down his hole, dropping a few more kernels in his nest to thank him for his trouble. Back at the rock, she made hand-washing motions. Mazy and Molly were napping, curled up on the rock, tucked together like kittens.

“Oh, look, wife,” Lilly said. “Our babies are asleep.”

“I know,” Kate said. “It's my favorite time of the day.”

“Prithee hand me the pot and I will fetch some water.”

“Speak English, Lilly.”

“
Prithee
is English. It's a word I'm learning. It's old-fashioned, but I like the sound it makes, kind of like a bird's call.
Prithee
means—”

Kate cut her off. “Sounds like something my granny would say.”

“Yeah, while sitting in her parlor.”

Kate stirred pretend food in the skillet. She shook the spoon in Lilly's face. “Stop poking fun at me.”

“I'm hungry,” Lilly said. “We should have brought some real food.”

“Me too,” Kate said. “Eating air doesn't keep my belly from grumbling.”

“Manda made spice cake this morning. I'll go get some. You keep a close eye on Molly and Mazy.”

“You mean August and Amelia?”

“Whoever. Just don't let them fall in the creek.”

Lilly brought back four pieces of cake wrapped in a dish towel and a pint jar of sweet milk. She tickled her sleeping sisters' cheeks with a blade of grass. “Wake up, sleepyheads. I brought you a treat.”

Kate was nearly finished with her cake when she cried out, “My tooth hurts.”

“Let me see.”

Kate opened her mouth wide for Lilly. “Ow, that makes it worse.”

Lilly picked up the towel and the milk jar. “Let's all go tell Mama.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mama said when she saw the tears in Kate's eyes, “I'm sorry you're hurting. I've got something to soothe the pain.”

“I just want to go home.” Kate sobbed.

Mama tapped her foot against the floor. She was studying what to do. “Remy and Manda are both gone, so I can't take you right now.”

“I can take her,” Lilly said. “I can ride her home on Chessie.”

“Why, of course you can,” Mama said. “Go put a bridle on Chessie while I doctor Kate.”

Lilly's heart leaped. She often rode Chessie, but she'd never been allowed to take her out of the barnyard. She scooted out the door before Mama could change her mind.

When Lilly rode bareback to the porch, Kate was standing there with a red bandanna looped around her chin. It was tied in a knot on top of her head.

Mama hefted Kate up behind. “Lay your cheek against Lilly's back. That will help to keep the flannel warm.”

Mama handed Lilly a tiny brown bottle. “Put this in your pocket and give it to Mrs. Jasper. Tell her to use the dropper sparingly and to keep a warm flannel on Kate's cheek. The bandanna will keep it in place.” Mama patted Kate's knee. “Does it feel better?”

Lilly could feel the nod of Kate's head against her shoulder. Kate smelled like cloves.

“Be careful, Lilly. Hold tight to the reins and come straight home.”

Lilly kept Chessie going slow, slow, slow. She was afraid Kate would bounce right off onto the forest floor. It was not a far piece to the Jaspers'—just through the woods and around the bend and straight on past the church where Kate's father preached. Brother Jasper had baptized Lilly and fourteen other people in the river last fall. That was a powerful thing, Lilly thought—washing folks white as snow. She loved knowing she belonged to Jesus now.

She felt a smidgen of shame to be so happy riding Chessie when her friend was feeling poorly, holding on to her for dear life. But she was doing a good deed. It relieved her guilt to think about it that way. Poor Kate. Lilly would never be cross with her again.

Mrs. Jasper was in the garden when they rode up. She dropped her hoe and hurried to Chessie's side. “Whatever is the matter, baby?” she said to Kate as she lifted her down.

“She has a toothache. Mama sent some soothing medicine. She said be spare with the drops and keep a warm flannel on Kate's cheek.”

Mrs. Jasper thanked Lilly and asked her to come in, but Lilly had to get back. “I hope you feel better soon, Kate.”

Later that day after her bedtime, Lilly went to the kitchen for a drink. Through the screen door, she could see her mother and Daddy John sitting on the top porch step with their heads together. That gave her such a warm and safe feeling. She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to listen when you heard your own name in someone else's conversation. Mama told Daddy about Lilly taking Kate home.

“I suddenly realized how capable she is,” Mama said.

“And smart as a whip,” Daddy said.

“Our little girl is growing up.”

“Maybe we could put a rock on her head,” Daddy teased.

Lilly had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from giggling. She wanted to hear the rest of the conversation.

“It makes me sad. I can't bear to think about her going to Alice's in July, much less leaving home for good someday. I'm really thinking of not letting her go. I just don't feel at ease about her traveling alone.”

Lilly almost dropped her water cup. She thought her trip to Lexington was settled.

Daddy put his arm around Mama's shoulders. “She'll be all right. It's not like she has to change trains. It's a straight shot. You mustn't hold her back.”

“I guess,” Mama said. “Mrs. Jasper said she would see her safely on the right train. She and Kate will be taking the same coach to the depot and then board a different train for a visit with her mother. Their train will leave after Lilly's.”

“Sounds like a plan. Lilly will love the adventure. And you know Alice will be right there waiting for her.” Daddy gave Mama a hug. “Now let's get to bed. Morning comes early.”

Lilly left her cup on the table and hurried back to her room. She was so excited thinking of her trip, she thought she wouldn't be able to sleep. But the harmony of the twins' breathing soon lulled her, and she drifted off to dream of trains and chocolate ice cream and circus wagons.

11

On tiptoe, Manda flicked a feather duster over the top of a bookcase. It was Wednesday—again. It seemed to her like it was always Wednesday, her least favorite day of the week. God should have put Saturday smack in the middle instead of another dreadful cleaning day. Manda's shoulders tightened. She could hear Miss Remy coming down the hall from the invalid room. She could tell it was her from the way she dragged one foot when she didn't use her crutch. That sound put Manda's teeth on edge, irritating as a mockingbird's trill after midnight.

Manda stepped up a rung on the four-step utility ladder and let the duster fly. Her eyes stung from the grit and her nose twitched. She sneezed so hard the ladder tipped over. She plopped on her fanny right at Miss Remy's feet.

“Give me that there foo-frau.” Remy reached for the duster. “Taint the way to do a decent job.”

Despite the hitch in her giddyup, Remy stalked to the door. Each room of the Pelfreys' house had a door opening onto a wraparound porch. Remy fairly flung this one open. Manda watched her beat the feather duster against a post. A little blast of dust sailed out into the yard. Back inside, she closed the door behind her.

“Fotch me down them purties,” she said, indicating the chocolate set Miz Copper kept atop the bookcase, safe from little hands.

Manda climbed the ladder and carefully handed down each cup and saucer and the tall pitcher with attached lid of the chocolate service. Remy set each piece on a side table. Manda stood and waited.

“Well, get down,” Remy said. “Go fetch a clean rag and the furniture polish, if ye even know where they be.”

Manda knew exactly where the polish was kept, and she knew where the rags were. Wasn't she the one who washed, dried, and folded them each Monday? She'd just hoped to make the dusting go faster today. That's all. What was the harm?

Back on the ladder, she tipped the bottle of polish and poured a smallish amount of oily, red liquid onto her cloth.

Below her, Remy flicked feathers over the delicate rose-patterned chocolate pot. “See, this here's for breakables. You cain't get a shine on furniture withouten you use some elbow grease.”

“That chocolate set sure is pretty, but I've never seen it used.”

“Purty carried this all the way from Lexington and never broke a piece.” Remy handed up a saucer, then a cup. “It belonged to Lilly Gray's grandmother Corbett. It's to be passed down to her. She's her grandmother's namesake.”

The thought of owning something that once belonged to her grandmother fanned a little heartache. Dance took ownership of all their mammaw Whitt's things when Mammaw passed away. All the dishes and handmade quilts and embroidered pillowcases were locked up in the steamer trunk that Dance kept at the foot of her bed. The trunk had belonged to Mammaw too. Manda didn't care so much about those things, but she loved the miniature coal-oil lamp and chimney that Mammaw lit in the kitchen window each night. She said it was a light against the dark in case her grandchildren lost their way. The one time Manda got brave enough to ask Dimmert about what gave Dance the right, he said they were just things. He said Mammaw meant a lot to Dance. That didn't make Manda feel any better. Someday when she had a kitchen window of her own, she would ask Dance if she could have the little lamp.

The top shelf of the bookcase gleamed when Manda positioned the pretties just as they had been.
Such a waste of time. Nobody can even see up there,
she thought as she stepped down a rung to reach the first row of books. She dusted each cover, polished each shelf, and put the books back in alphabetical order. She wasn't sure Miss Remy could read well enough to know if they were out of place, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Remy flitted in and out of the room like she was in charge of the bookcase and Manda might miss a spot.

“Can I ask you something?” Manda said when Remy stood staring at her.

“If ye can see fit to talk and work at the same time,” Remy said.

Manda sloshed a jag more polish on her rag. Sometimes Miss Remy was ill as a red hornet. “Why do you call Miz Copper Purty?”

Remy didn't answer right off, as if she had to turn the question over in her mind a few times first. But when she did, the answer caught Manda by surprise. “Because she is, I reckon.” Remy walked to the door and reached for the knob before she stopped and turned back. “I ain't never knowed a truer person than Purty. She don't try to take on airs, don't try to polish nothing. That's what makes her purty—inside and out.”

Manda stood on the bottom rung of the ladder for the longest time after Remy left. The dust rag hung limply from her hand. That was the first real conversation they'd ever had. Maybe Manda needed to ask more questions.