The Willows (30 page)

Shrugging, yet raining, Jude carried
the reptile out of the room, the others following.

When they had gone, Gwen slowly stepped
down from the cot, feeling first sheepish, then dismayed. She had
made a major mistake, letting those children see her fright. Not
only would they taunt her unmercifully now, she would never get
them to sit still long enough to teach them.

She rubbed her arms, upset by how much
the incident had unnerved her. Even now, she was afraid to move
about the room, not knowing if another snake had squeezed in
through the wall. Shivering, she looked about her, slowly realizing
that the walls were all covered with tarpaper, that there weren’t
any holes to speak of. More importantly, as she leaned down for a
closer look, she discovered there were no outside openings in the
dresser, either.

Those little brats have put the snake
in their!

Her first reaction was to run out to
confront them, but as she was hurrying into her close–reluctance to
be caught again in her underwear–her anger had time to cool. As it
did, she knew there was no sense screaming at them; they were not
likely to listen. Besides, who was she to be such a hypocrite? At
that age, she admitted painfully, she’d been a bit of a terror
herself.

Thinking back, she had to admit that
she’d tried her own share of pranks, with poor Lavinia her usual
target. Never with snakes, for even then she’d hated them, but she
did remember a frog. She’d found it during one of her night time
searches, when she climbed out of her window and crawled down the
old oak to meet Lance for fishing.

It wasn’t until Edith had come to live
with them, and mother had someone to compare her daughter to, that
mother and father had stopped laughing at Gwen’s antics. It was
time, her parents had agreed, and that their little tomboy learned
to be a lady.

In truth, Gwen had been every bit as
headstrong as Jude, and twice as determined never to change, yet
her parents had managed to refine her behavior. How, exactly, had
they done it? Father hadn’t yelled or screamed; there had been no
need for lectures. He merely give her the look, and glad had
instantly cringed. It was the same fierce expression with which he
so often silenced her now.

Practicing her own version of his
forbidding expression, Gwen went out into the hallway. She would
try it on Jude, she decided. If she could get their leader to
listen to her, the other boys would eventually fall in
line.

Unfortunately, Jude wasn’t in the
kitchen when she entered it. Little Christopher sat alone at the
table, busily licking the bottom of a bowl.

“
Christopher!” Gwen step up
to take the bowl from his hands. “That is no way for a boy to be
eating.”

He tried to snatch it back. “Give it.
It’s mine. Jude made it for me.”

“
Whatever it was, it’s long
finished. Don’t you know a gentleman must never apply his tongue to
the china?” From his puzzled expression, Gwen realize that the word
china must be a foreign term. “The bowl,” she explained. “It is not
polite to be licking it.”

“
But I am
hungry.”

Looking at his round little face, Gwen
felt a pang. Poor thing, his older brothers must have left him to
his own devices. Her own childhood not that long ago that she
couldn’t remember how it felt to depend on others for everything,
even your next meal.

Come to think of it, she still knew how
it felt.

“
Don’t worry,” she told the
boy. “There must be something else you can eat.” She looked about
helplessly. Even if she could look through the mess on the counter,
she couldn’t cook. What she what it give now for a big fresh slice
of bread. “Actually, now that you mention it, I am hungry
myself.”

“
Jude made
gruel.”

Looking in the pot, Gwen tried not to
gag. In her book, gruel ranked right down there with snakes. “You
cannot want any more of this. Where are the others, anyway? Why
aren’t you with them?”

His face clouded. “It is a secret. They
say I cannot be trusted to keep quiet.”

“
Hmmm.” As much as she
needed to know what they were plotting against her, she took pity
on Christopher’s glum expression. The little boy seemed badly in
need of a friend. “As long as we are both left out, I say we forget
this revolting gruel and find something better. Wait right here,”
she told Christopher as she headed to the pantry. “I will see if I
can find us something more suitable to fill our
stomachs.”

Opening the pantry door, she found a
stream of light shining down from the hole in the roof. Apparently,
the boys hadn’t begun in their repairs. They had been lucky that it
had not rained; there was a good deal of food here that would be
ruined if the roof was not patched soon. The moment they return,
she would have to get on them about it.

As a ray of sunlight beamed down on a
glorious ham, as if it had been created for the sole purpose of
calling it to her attention. As she gazed at the chunk of meat, all
cured and ready to be eaten, her stomach began to grout. She
reached for the knife beside and hastily slice off a
slab.

Proud of her discovery, she brought it
back to present to Christopher, but to her disappointment, the
boy’s eyes the not widened with the delight. “We cannot eat that,”
he said quickly, clearly alarmed. “Jude is saving it for a special
occasion.”

Gwen, mainly rooting through the
drawers for a clean plate, bristled with exasperation. “Jude said
this, Jude said that. I am the mother here–or at least I am acting
in that capability for the next few weeks–so unless someone crowned
you to King when I was not looking, you can tell him I am the one
who decides what’s we can eat and when.” Closing the cupboard
drawer, she turned to face the boy. “Is there a single clean plate
in this whole house?”

“
Jude says we are not
supposed to –“sheepishly, he shook his head. “No, there is
not.”

Grabbing a skillet, which seems clean
enough, Gwen brought it in the ham to the table. She sat beside
Christopher and cut the slab into bite-size chunks. “Let me guess,”
she told him, handing him a piece. “Jude decided nobody would do
dishes, hoping it would help convince me to leave. Am my
right?”

His eyes went wider, but he did not
speak. Then again, his cheeks were filled with him.

Chewing on her own chunk, Gwen thought
aloud. “And if something should crawl in here from the swamps, all
the better. And nobody would need to go out looking for
snakes.”

The boy refused to look at her as he
jammed another piece of meat into his mouth.

“
Well, I refuse to live this
way,” Gwen went on, frowning at the piles of dirty dishes. “I am
here to teach, not to entertain you. If you children refuse to wash
up after yourselves, I won’t be the ones us suffer. I will just
have to deal with them myself.”

Standing compulsively, Gwen reached for
the nearest pile, trying to touch is little of the bottom plate as
possible. Swallowing her revulsion in, she carried the stack to the
door.

“
Hey, where are you
going?”

She did not answer the boy, for in
truth, she had not the least idea. Her only thought had been to get
the entire mess out of this shack, but the moment she spied by you,
she knew that was where she would dump the pile. At least in the
water, the dishes would get a much needed soaking.

The boy followed her outside, stopping
to watch from the porch. “Are going to need help with that?” She
asked, as she passed him on her return to this shack for more. “Or
do you mean to stand there gawking.”

He came inside behind her, going
straight to the table to snatch another chunk of ham. “I don’t
think Jude’s going to like this,” was all he had to say.

“
No, I don’t suppose he
will.” One smiled at herself. She could well imagine Jude’s
expression when the child came into cook the evening meal and found
the kitchen empty. “But don’t you fret about it, because I plan to
take full responsibility. Sooner or later, Jude–and the rest of you
boys–will have to accept that I am in charge here. We going to help
me or not?”

He looked at the door, as if hoping his
brothers would charge into save him.

“
You might as well. Jude
already going to be angry about the ham.” He looked so alarmed, she
instantly relented. “Do not worry. We can tell your brothers I did
it. I swear, I won’t tell another soul.”

“
Code of honor?”

Remembering how Jude had spoken of
their code, she held a hand over her heart. “Code of honor, I won’t
carry tells. It will be our little secret.”

He looked at the piles, then the
skillet. “Okay, but only if I get the rest of the ham.”

“
All right, let’s hurry. We
don’t want Jude catching us dumping the plates in the
water.”

He grinned, but quickly try to hide it,
as he did several times as they carried the dishes and pots
outside. Seeing that his brothers had left him behind, Christopher
was probably enjoying their little conspiracy as much as
she.

Daunting thought. What she actually
enjoying herself?

On the last trip, she looked at the
water longingly. If only she, too, could have a good, long soak. “I
can’t tell you how much I wish I could take a bath.”

Christopher looked at her in surprise.
“Why can’t you?”

“
I’m not going into that
bayou.” She did not bother to stifle the shutter.

The boy looked at her as if she were
lacking intelligence. “Why not use the bathtub, like Michael
does?”

“
Tub?”

“
Yep. It’s outback. Under
the rain barrel.”

Gwen was afraid to hope. “Show
me”

With the air of a man on an important
mission, Christopher led her to the back of the cabin, where a huge
wooden barrel had been set on a four foot high platform its top cut
off to collect the rain.

The boy pointed to the tin plated tub
on the ground beside it. “See that spigot on the side of the
barrel? The opens and fill the tube. On hot days, the water comes
out warm.”

Eyeing it, Gwen imagined standing
beneath the spigots, letting the warm water shower her skin. “I
don’t suppose there is soap?” She asked hopefully.

“
Michael usually keeps a bar
in that tin over there.”

Walking over to the barrel, Gwen dipped
her hand in the clean, warm water. Though sorely tempted, she knew
it would be better to come back later this evening, when she could
soak in private.

Besides, at this moment, Christopher
needed the bath more.

Yet when she mentioned the idea to him,
the boys looked at her as if she’d suggested murder.

“
Don’t you children ever
bathe?” Grabbing the soap, she held it out to him. “Here, it won’t
buy you. Get clean and you will feel much better after word. You
might even have fun.”

Smiling, she open spigot to fill the
top. As she turned it off, Christopher began to edge backward.
Determined that at least one of the children would be clean when
Michael returned, Gwen grabbed the boy by the arm. “No, you don’t,
young man. Stay here and let’s get you nice and clean.”

As she tugged him back to the top, he
screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Fighting fiercely, she tried
to reason with him, but Christopher continued wiggling like a
snake, until he managed to break free of her grip.

“
Let go of my brother.” Jude
stood beside the tub, a string of fish in his hands, stench of
which was near overwhelming.

“
I was trying to give
Christopher a bath, but since you have helped him escape, maybe you
can take his place.”

“
I am not taking no bath.”
This wasn’t uttered by the boy’s usual defiance; Jude seemed close
to panic.

“
What is wrong with you
boys?” One asked mystified by their aversion to cleanliness.
“Bathing is fun. Here, just try it.”

“
Leave me alone.”

Jude also tried to flee, but this time,
Gwen was prepared for it, and doubly determined that at least one
of these children would take a bath. If it must be their leader,
then all the better.

To the tune of some colorful language
from Jude, Gwen was soon involved in a wrestling match. Their
struggle, the file words coming out of the child’s mouth, were all
symbolic of the war of wills Jude hoped to wage. It was too late
now to back down; the boy would forever be testing Gwen, taunting
her, if she could not prove she was boss. Whatever it took, she had
to convince Jude to take this bath, and that was the end of
that.

Perhaps she made the decision with the
bit too much relish, for with a surprising burst of strength, she
forced the boy into the tub. The string of fish went flying as Jude
fell backward, landing in the water with a loud splash. Soaked
herself, Gwen took advantage of the boy’s momentary surprise to
push his head and shoulders under the spigot.

“
Here,” she said, handing
him the soap. “Might as well wash your hair while you were in
there.”