Wonderland Creek

by Lynn Austin

  On Monday I absolutely had to wash my clothing and bedsheets. It was a warm, sunny day so I knew they would dry quickly on the clothesline out back. I offered to wash Lillie’s laundry, too, and she told me where to find two washtubs and a hand-crank wringer that would make the job a little easier. I built a fire in the stove, pumped water into two huge pots, and put them on the stove to heat up. Without modern conveniences and electricity, the housework around here was so tedious, and there was so much of it, that it overwhelmed me at times. I hadn’t expected Lillie to help, but she limped into the kitchen just as I added more coal to the stove.

  “You’re up! I’m so glad you’re feeling better, Miss Lillie.” She was one of the most perplexing people I had ever met, but I’d come to realize how much I enjoyed her company.

  “Guess I’m having one of my good days,” she said. “So as long as you got the fire going, I think it’s time you learnt to bake bread. You can mix the dough while you’re waiting for the water to heat.”

  “Wait. I don’t think I can learn something as complicated as bread, Lillie.”

  “You learnt to ride a horse, didn’t you? Guess you can learn to do anything if you put your mind to it.”

  It had required a loaded rifle to get me on a horse the first time, and I didn’t want to find out if Lillie would make me bake bread at gunpoint, too. “Okay,” I sighed. “How do I make bread?”

  She sat at the table and issued instructions while I mixed flour, yeast, and all of the other ingredients together. My arms and shoulders got a hefty workout when it came time to knead it. “Is it ready yet?” I asked repeatedly as my arms grew tired of kneading.

  “Nope. Knead it some more.” This went on for a very long time until Lillie finally decided I had kneaded it enough. “Now put it in the warming oven above the stovetop to rise, honey. I think the water is hot enough to wash clothes.”

  Lillie showed me how to set up the tubs outside with the hand-crank wringer on a stand between them. She also had a plunger-like device I could work up and down by hand like the agitator on my mother’s electric washer to thoroughly clean the clothes. The sun finally reached the top of the hill, and Lillie sat on the bench outside the door, enjoying the spring sunshine.

  After working the plunger up and down for a good fifteen minutes, I paused to rest. “I’m surprised that Mack didn’t modernize this house,” I said, puffing slightly. “He lived up north for a while, so he must have been used to having electricity. It sure would make this work a lot easier.”

  “No, it wouldn’t. All them modern doodads put you in chains. Pretty soon you’re a slave, just like I was.”

  “A slave? No, they make the work easier, Miss Lillie.”

  “Once you got electricity, then you got bills to pay. Then you got to work hard to pay them bills. Right now the mine is closed and there ain’t no work, so you’d only get deeper and deeper in debt to them electricity people. Pretty soon the bank comes along and takes your house away. All because you want a washing machine and electric lights.”

  “I guess when you put it that way . . . But the mine won’t be closed forever, will it?” I finished plunging and began feeding the clothes through the wringer, cranking by hand and watching them drop into the rinse water. I would have to plunge them again in the rinse tub to get out the soap, then crank them through the wringer again and hang them on the clothesline. By the time I finished, I would be as wrung out as the clothes.

  “The least Mack could have done is put in indoor plumbing,” I said.

  “You want a toilet inside? That means you got to have a pump to get the water up from the well, and that pump needs electricity, too. More bills, same story. Where your treasure is, there’s your heart, the Bible says. You can’t serve both God and Mammon. Right now, you and me could get up and go anyplace God sends us and do whatever work He wants us to do because we don’t have any bills to pay. But if you start serving Mammon, you ain’t free to serve God.”

  I stopped cranking and leaned against the frame. Back home I was free from all obligations, with no job and no boyfriend. I had nothing to do all day but read novels. Yet Lillie made it sound as though God wanted to send me somewhere to work for Him. I could never be a missionary in some strange, foreign land. I couldn’t even live in Acorn year-round the way Maggie had done. The reminder of Maggie made me sad—and eager to help her.

  “Miss Lillie, how do you talk to someone about God when they’ve lost their faith? What do you say to them when they don’t believe that God cares about them anymore?”

  “Honey, you just saw the proof of God’s love yesterday on Easter Sunday. Jesus bled and died for us. If that don’t convince people that God loves them, then I don’t know what will.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think Maggie would ever go to church with me, on Easter or any other time. I think she’s angry at God.”

  “You talking about Maggie Coots, honey?”

  I nodded. “Her husband and little girl both died around the same time. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I didn’t know what to say to her when she told me about losing them.”

  “I knew Maggie when she first come here years ago. She was all on fire for Jesus back then. Came down with a whole bunch of people from some church up north.”

  “Cora called them do-gooders.”

  “That’s right. They was gonna work for God and change everything for the good. And Maggie was very happy working for Jesus until things started getting hard for her.”

  “Maggie’s husband and baby died, Lillie. That’s not hard, that’s devastating!”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. But sometimes when people work for God, they get the idea that He should make their life all smooth and easy because they’re doing His work.”

  “Well . . . He should, right?”

  “It ain’t so. Jesus said life is gonna be hard. Period. He said if you’re gonna follow Him, then you’re gonna carry a cross, just like He did. This world of ours is under a curse, honey. We need to expect things to be bad. But even if we lose everything, we still have Jesus.”

  “Don’t you think that’s a little . . . idealistic? How can you expect people to cling to Jesus after they’ve laid their loved ones in the grave, and after God didn’t answer their prayers and keep them from dying?”

  “I know Maggie’s story. I know she lost her husband and child. And I know exactly how she feels because I lost my husband and my child, too.”

  “You mean Charley and Buster?”

  “Not only them, honey. I lost my Sam and our little baby girl, too.”

  “Oh, Lillie!” I dried my hands on my apron and sat down on the bench beside her. “What happened?”

  “Bunch of men in white hoods came and burnt a cross in our yard one night, and our house caught on fire. I was off delivering a baby, so I wasn’t there. Sam and our little daughter were asleep and didn’t get out in time.”

  “Oh, Lillie!” I hugged her as gently as I could. As she patted my back, I wondered who was comforting whom.

  “Yes, I know all about hard times and wondering why God allows such a thing.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “That was a long time ago, honey. A long time ago.”

  “Were the men caught and punished for what they did?”

  “Now, just who do you think was under them hoods? The reason they cover up their faces is because they don’t want folks in town to know that they’re the policemen and the judges and all them other officials. Those men will pay for what they done in the world to come, but not in this one.”

  I couldn’t imagine the cruelty Lillie had endured, her first family snatched away and sold into slavery, her second family murdered. No wonder she had lied to the entire town and forced me to stage Mack’s funeral. He was like a son to her, and she couldn’t bear to lose him, too. “How did you ever get through such sorrow, Lillie?”

  “Took a long time, honey. A long time. That’s when I left and moved up here. I made up my mind to run far
, far away and live all alone. I hated everyone—and white people especially. But little by little, the Good Lord healed my heart and coaxed me back into His arms again. Which is why I know He can heal Maggie’s heart. And He will, I’m certain of it, in time.”

  “But how can you know for sure? Maggie told me herself that she’s lost her faith.”

  “Jesus says if we belong to Him—and I know that Maggie Coots surely does—then no one can snatch us out of His hand. The Lord has a way of working things out so we’ll find our way back to Him. He didn’t let me stay lost, and He won’t let Maggie stay lost, either. Believe me, I know.”

  “Is there anything I can do or say to help her?”

  “Don’t try to preach to her. She won’t listen anyhow. Just be a friend to her.”

  I nodded, then thought of something else. “Lillie, why did you tell me to be careful around her?”

  “Because bitterness and hatred can spread from one person to the next, just like a case of the measles. And I sure would hate to see you catch it, honey.”

  Ike arrived at the library on Tuesday as I was getting ready to deliver books. “I’m here to take care of that bat for you,” he said. He was armed with a burlap sack and a rake, and from the determined look on his face, he might have been here to slay a dragon for me. I longed to reward him with a hug for his bravery, but the other librarians were watching.

  “Promise you won’t kill it?”

  “Not unless I have to. They get rabies sometimes.”

  I left him to his work and rode up to see June Ann. Her dog Rex ran out of the cabin when we arrived, barking ferociously, but both Belle and I were used to him by now. June Ann usually came to the door to greet me, but this time she didn’t. Maybe she was busy nursing the baby. At least she wasn’t working out in the field today.

  I dismounted and tied Belle to the fence. “Good dog . . . nice dog,” I soothed. “It’s me, Rex. You know me.” His tail started to wag and he finally quieted down. When he did, I could hear baby Feather crying inside the cabin.

  “June Ann?” I called out. “It’s me, Allie. I have your books.”

  No reply. The door was open so I went inside. The baby was in her cradle near the warm hearth, crying and red-faced, but June Ann was nowhere to be seen. Was she using the outhouse? I walked to the fireplace and lifted the baby into my arms.

  “Hey, don’t cry . . . it’s all right.” I propped her against my shoulder and rubbed her back. That was the full extent of my experience with babies. My soothing didn’t help and I spent several long minutes walking around the room with her, humming, patting, and rocking. Feather continued to cry. I saw the two bottles of tonic on the mantel and they looked half empty, so June Ann and the baby must be taking their doses every day. Was it time to give Feather more? Where was June Ann?

  I walked and patted some more until the sound of Feather’s cries began to grate on my nerves. I couldn’t make her stop. I could see how June Ann might become frustrated and depressed, dealing with this every day—and night. What if something really was wrong with Feather? I remembered Maggie’s baby and the tiny tombstone that marked her grave. I hadn’t wanted to ask how Rhoda Lee had died.

  I felt Feather’s forehead for a fever the way my mother used to feel mine. It wasn’t hot. Maybe she was wet. I looked around for diapers and saw a pile of clean cloths on the bed. I laid Feather down and changed her, then walked with her some more. If she was hungry, there was nothing I could do about it.

  By now, twenty minutes had passed. I decided to go look in the outhouse in case something was wrong with June Ann. She wasn’t there. Nor was she sitting on the rock where she had waited the last time that I had rocked Feather for her. Next, I looked in the shed, still carrying the screaming baby. No sign of June Ann. I was getting worried. I had no idea what to do.

  I longed to take the baby down to Miss Lillie so she could figure out what was wrong with her, but it would be impossible to get on the horse with a baby in my arms. I could barely get on empty-handed. Should I walk down to Mack’s cabin? It was only a mile or two, but what could he do for a baby? It would take all morning to hike all the way into town, and the path was steep in places. What if I slipped and dropped Feather? Besides, Belle could slosh across the creek quite easily, but how would I manage the deep water? And what about the wildcat?

  By the time I walked back to June Ann’s cabin, the baby’s cries were slowing down. At last, they quieted to whimpers and she finally fell asleep. I was afraid to lay her down, but my shoulders and arms still ached from cranking the wringer and kneading bread yesterday, so I finally laid her in the cradle. Then I went outside and sat on the doorstep to wait for June Ann. The cabin was much too dark and depressing inside to wait there.

  “Hey, Allie.” I heard June Ann’s timid voice behind me and turned as she walked through the house and out onto the porch.

  “June Ann! Where were you?”

  “Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have left Feather all alone like that, but I knew she was fed and her diaper was dry and . . . and she wouldn’t stop screaming.”

  “The medicine didn’t help?”

  June Ann shook her head. I could see tears welling up in her eyes. “I had to leave her, Allie, I had to. I was so afraid!”

  “Afraid of what?”

  “That I might hurt her,” she said in a tiny voice. “Sometimes I just feel like shaking her and shaking her, but I know that won’t help. Then all kinds of crazy thoughts go through my head . . . like drowning her in the creek.”

  I didn’t know what to say. The thought of June Ann shaking the baby or throwing her in the creek horrified me. I had felt a little of her frustration a few minutes ago, but what would it be like to deal with a screaming baby day and night? With no one to help me?

  “I don’t want to hurt her, Allie. I love her so much, but . . . I don’t know what to do.”

  “There must be someone who would come and help you. Please, just tell me where to find your mother or a sister and I’ll talk to them for you.” June Ann started shaking her head before I finished speaking. “Why not?”

  “I know what they’ll say. They’ll tell me that Feather is cursed because she’s half Arnett and half Larkin. They’ll say she cries all the time because the two families are fighting inside of her.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You know it is. No one can possibly believe that.”

  “Sometimes I think it might be true, you know? The way she cries and cries?”

  “Don’t believe it, June Ann. She’s a beautiful baby. Listen, please come down and stay with Miss Lillie and me for a couple of days. We can help you take care of Feather. Lillie will find something that will help her, I know she will.”

  “I can’t leave the garden and the animals. Wayne would shoot me after all the hard work he did to get us going.”

  “Not even for one day? Or maybe we can figure out a way to bring the animals, too.” Although when I tried to imagine transporting a coop full of chickens, an ornery mule, and a couple of pigs across the creek and down the steep hill to town, I knew the idea was ridiculous.

  “I can’t leave. But please don’t think I’m a terrible mother for leaving Feather alone in the house.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  “I wasn’t far away, honest I wasn’t. I just didn’t want to hurt her.”

  “I know. I know.” I let June Ann lean on my shoulder and cry. “I’ll figure something out, I promise.” But what?

  I stayed until she was calm and smiling again. The baby slept quietly the entire time. “I have to go,” I finally said. “But please think about coming into town with me. Please?” She shook her head.

  I felt drained by the time I arrived at the Sawyer farm. All nine children ran out to the edge of the woods to meet me. I never could understand how they could run in bare feet. I had been reading a short picture book to them each time I came, but now that Faye’s boys had finished Treasure Island, I decided to ask the Sawyers if they wanted to hear a ch
apter from a longer book each week. The idea excited them, and even the very youngest kids listened so well to the first chapter that I rewarded them with a second.

  Maggie had told me the reason Kentucky children were so attentive—unlike the students I had worked with back home—was because oral storytelling was popular among these families. By the time children started school, they would already know a dozen or more local tales by heart, told by their mamas and granddaddies. I loved reading stories to the children on my route, including the Howards farther up the mountain, now that their spring planting was finished.

  But today I was anxious to get home and talk to Lillie about June Ann and Feather. I had planned to make a quick stop at Gladys and Clint’s cabin, staying only long enough to exchange books with them. Instead, they asked me to come inside and read aloud from the newspaper the way Cora used to do. I wondered if either one of them knew how to read or if they were simply lonely for company. Or maybe they were testing me. Maybe Clint believed in the old adage to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  The newspaper he handed me was from February 1933, more than three years ago. The front page told the story of the assassination attempt on Franklin Roosevelt’s life shortly before he had been sworn in as president. The bullet had missed Roosevelt but had killed the mayor of Chicago, Anton Cermak, instead.

  “Ain’t that where you’re from—Chicago?” Clint asked when I finished reading the article. It required an enormous effort not to roll my eyes.

  “I live near Chicago, not in Chicago. Blue Island is a perfectly safe little town, Clint. We don’t have any gangsters or assassins.” Although sometimes I did wonder about Uncle Cecil.

  Gladys and Clint finally sent me on my way again, and I stopped to drop off more food supplies for Mack, including one of the loaves of bread Lillie had helped me bake yesterday. It had turned out pretty good.

  “I’m impressed, Alice,” Mack said when I pulled it out of the bag with a flourish. “I still have to chuckle when I remember your first day here, how you asked me for a hotel and a restaurant.”