by Karen M Cox
“This spot is awful far away from home for such a little girl.”
“That’s why I like it. They never find me—not till I want to be found.” She grinned.
“Lily, I would like to go see Lizzie and try to cheer her up. Would you come down and show me the way?”
“You just came from there, so you already know the way.”
I sighed in exasperation. Lily wasn’t as easily swayed as other children; I had to give her that.
“Would you come with me anyway?”
She thought for a minute. I really hoped she’d agree. I didn’t want to leave her there, and I certainly didn’t want to climb up after her. And perhaps it would be less obvious to show up at the Quinlans with a wayward baby sister in tow rather than by myself—like a suitor might.
“Okay.” She scampered down before I had a chance to even walk over and catch her.
“So, you like to climb trees?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Yup, but I like playing in the creek too. I found some rocks over there”—she pointed while she spoke—“so I can sit in the middle and dangle my feet in the water. Lizzie says all creeks and rivers end up at the ocean. Is that true?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I think I would like the ocean. Lizzie says you can see forever there. Is that true?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never been there either?”
“I haven’t, no.”
“I want to go someday ’cause Lizzie says it’s loverly.”
I smiled at her mispronunciation. “Maybe someday you can.”
As we approached the Quinlan barn, I could hear voices calling out for my errant walking companion.
“Lilian!”
“Lily!”
I recognized Lizzie’s voice in the mix, but it was Jeannie we came upon first as we rounded the side of the barn.
“Lily!” She came rushing toward us. “Where have you been? I oughtta tan your hide for making us worry like this!”
“I went for a walk. Look who was walking around too—Billy Ray. He wants to see Lizzie.”
Jeannie narrowed her eyes at me. “She’s got chores to do.”
I met Jeannie’s gaze directly. “Let’s let her decide if she’s too busy to talk to me.”
“Run on up to the house, little gal.” She watched her sister scamper up the bank. Then she turned back to me, hands on her hips. “Lizzie don’t need no more upset from the wagging tongues in this town.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Why you want to see her anyway?”
I wasn’t exactly sure myself, but I couldn’t get the image of her crying in the middle of the night out of my head, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay. But, of course, I couldn’t tell Jeannie any of that. “She asked me the name of a plant last night, and I looked it up for her.” I cringed inwardly at the white lie. Inside my head, my father’s voice warned that wasn’t a good sign.
Jeannie stood there a second, studying me. “Charles says you’re a nice fella.”
“That’s quite a compliment, coming from Charlie. Given that he’s such a nice fella himself.”
After thinking a second, she shrugged her shoulders and sighed in resignation. “Wait here. I’ll tell Lizzie you’re down by the barn. She can come see you if she wants.”
“No need, Jeannie. I’m already here. Afternoon, Billy Ray.”
“Good afternoon.”
Lizzie had approached us from the side, so I didn’t see her until she was very close. Her hair was down loose, and she had on a cherry print dress that crossed in the front like the blue one she had on the other day. Her lips, although still full and pink, were without her usual bright red color, and her eyes were dark and oh-so-serious. It was definitely a new look for her, one that appealed to me a great deal. My heart gave one big thump and then took several seconds to slow back down to normal.
“I’m walking over to Mrs. Gardener’s if you want to come along.” She turned up to the gravel drive that led to Linden Road.
I hurried to catch up to her. “Sure.”
She stopped, surprised. “We’ll have to walk through town.”
“I know.”
“People will see us together—the Bad Girl and the Preacher’s Son.”
I nodded.
She chuckled and resumed walking. “Well now, that’s a far cry from not wanting anybody to know we went skinny-dipping out at the lake.”
“It wasn’t skinny-dipping, that’s—”
“I know, I know. That’s swimming without any clothes on.”
“I’m not ashamed to be your friend, Lizzie.”
“Yes, well, we’ll see,” she whispered. Then louder, she said, “You ready for people to talk about you?”
“People have talked about me all my life. I’m the preacher’s son, remember?”
“Not like they’re going to now. But if you want to use me as your charity case to prove to everyone how Christian you are, it’s no skin off my nose.”
I put out my hand and caught her arm, turning her back to face me. “You are not my charity case.” I stood over her, looking down into her eyes. “I know I’m a Christian, and I don’t need to prove it to anyone else. That’s just prideful. I do what I think is right. And no one tells me who my friends are but me.”
For once, she had no smart-aleck remark to fire back.
“I have a theory about you, Lizzie Quinlan. I don’t think you are what this town says you are.”
She jerked her arm out of my grasp and kept walking. “Don’t put me on a pedestal as a mistreated innocent, Billy Ray Davenport. You’ll be sadly disappointed.”
“I’m not putting you on a pedestal. I don’t know what’s in your past, but I do know that every day can be a brand-new start.”
“Maybe I don’t want a new start. Maybe I like the way I am.”
“Well, I think you do want a new start. And I like the way you are too.”
“People don’t change, you know.”
“I’ve seen enough of the world to know people usually don’t. However, just because they don’t, doesn’t mean they can’t.”
“Well, I don’t want to change.”
“Because it’s easier to just go along with what the town gossips think? Is that why you don’t fight it?”
“I said I wouldn’t tease you anymore, but you’re starting to annoy me.”
“All I’m saying is ‘to thine own self be true.’ That’s Shakespeare, by the way, not the Bible.”
She looked back at me, glaring—and I smiled at her. Even though she tried to resist, she giggled.
“Fine, fine, be my buddy. Be my friend. You’ll see what they’ll do to you.”
I caught her hand. “I don’t care what they think. I like you. Why is that so hard to believe?”
She looked down at the ground, and I decided I’d pushed hard enough for today.
“Why are you going to Mrs. Gardener’s?” I kept hold of her hand while we walked.
“She altered some more clothes for me, and I’m going to pick them up.”
“Did she fix this one you’ve got on?”
“Yep. You like it?”
“Very much. You look extra pretty, but I expect you know that already.”
She grinned. “I’ve noticed that the less I fix up, the more you compliment me.”
“I like your hair down.” I reached up and ran a curl between my fingers, then tugged on it playfully. Truthfully, I didn’t care if she “fixed up” or not, as long as I could make her eyes sparkle as they did right then.
It was strange, but I was starting to get used to the way the air buzzed all around us when she was near. I could actually think and talk as a rational person, even while my heart pounded in my chest. Even more odd was how bereft I felt without that adrenaline coursing through my veins. The air seemed empty without the presence of Lizzie Quinlan to fill it.
By the time we walked back to Linden Road, the sun was edging down towar
d the horizon. In spite of her insisting I didn’t have to, I offered to carry the bag of clothes Mrs. G gave her. I didn’t mind in the least, and it gave my hands something to do, which was a good thing, because my palms were itching to keep Lizzie’s hand in mine or put my arm around her. We approached the Quinlan’s house, ambling and talking and laughing now and again—about Mrs. Gardener and her potions, and Lily and her wanderings, and anything else that popped into our heads.
As we neared the steps, I looked toward the house and saw Jeannie Quinlan sitting in the glider on the porch. She held Baby Susie against her shoulder, rocking back and forth as she covered the baby’s head with one hand and patted her diapered rump with the other. Keeping her hand supporting Susie, she put her index finger against her lips, gesturing for us to hush.
“I just got her to settle down. Mama’s about wore out with her crying. I’m afraid this one’s gonna have the colic.”
“Oh, I hope not,” Lizzie said. “I didn’t think we’d ever make it through Lily’s. We were all ready to pull our hair out before it was over.”
Jeannie Quinlan’s answering smile was like a cool breeze; it drifted around us, soothing and restful. It was pleasant to be around her. That was probably why Charles liked her so much. Plus, she was pretty in that traditional, blonde-haired, blue-eyed way.
“Did you get your new dresses, honey? Let’s have a look,” she said, nodding toward the bag I carried.
“Wait till you see. There’s a skirt or two, but there’s also some of those new capri pants, and couple of the prettiest tops I ever saw.” She pulled them out and held them up for her sister to cluck over. I stood by the steps, out of the way, but strangely fascinated by a feminine ritual that I never knew existed.
“That was so nice of Mrs. Gardener to think of you.”
“I know.” Lizzie flashed me a happy smile. “I must have thanked her a million times, right, Billy Ray?”
“That you did.”
“Let me go put these in my room. Be right back.”
The sun went behind the line of trees, and crickets began their evening song. Jeannie started a gentle hum in response to Baby Susie as she stirred and whimpered. I sat down right where I’d been standing on the steps, afraid to talk too loudly and disrupt the lullaby’s effects. Lizzie came back outside, carefully easing the screen door shut. She sat down beside Jeannie, holding her arms out.
“You want me to take a turn?”
“Oh no, thanks. If I give her to you now, she might wake.” She looked in my direction, and I saw a radiant smile appear on her face. Its brilliance stunned me for a second, until I realized the smile wasn’t for me at all. Jeannie was looking past me down the drive that led up from Linden Road.
I turned around just as Lizzie announced the visitor. “Well, well, well. Here comes Charlie-boy—right on time.”
Charlie’s tires crunched in the gravel as he rolled to a stop. He got out and started walking toward the house, and I saw the instant Jeannie’s and Charles’s eyes met, forming a ribbon of feeling between them, intertwined and strong.
Lizzie stood up and came over to the railing, gesturing for Charles to be quiet like Jeannie had gestured to us a few minutes before.
“Is she sleeping?” he asked in a stage whisper.
Jeannie leaned back to look at her baby sister’s face. “I think so. Let me go try to put her down.”
Charles watched her with an absorbed, awe-struck look I’d never seen on him before. Lizzie saw it too, and she smiled knowingly at me.
“Jeannie’s just got a natural way with Susie, doesn’t she? She can soothe her when none of the rest of us can.”
Charles didn’t answer, so I piped in. “Maybe—but then, you have a way with Lily. I saw it last night, when you were playing hide-and-seek with her at the laundromat.”
“I have a way with her because she’s a little heathen like me. Birds of a feather, you know.”
“You’re not a heathen, Lizzie.” Jeannie opened the door and stepped back outside. “You’re just…spirited.” Her lips turned up into an amused smile.
Lizzie laughed softly. “Well, that’s a kind way to put it, sister mine.”
Jeannie sat back down on the glider, and Charles pushed past me to join her.
“I guess I try to see the good in everyone.”
“One of my favorite things about you.” He nudged her with his shoulder and winked. “Hey there.”
Even in the gathering dusk, I could see her blush. “Hey, yourself.”
While I stared at them, Lizzie gently cleared her throat to get my attention. Then she nodded toward the driveway.
Getting the hint, I jumped up in a sudden rush. “I gotta go.”
“Don’t leave on my account, Billy Ray,” Charlie said, putting his arm around Jeannie’s shoulders.
“No, I really should get back to town. Seven thirty comes early in the morning.”
“I’ll walk you down to the road.” Lizzie started toward the steps.
“Thanks.”
“Watch out for Marlene.”
Charlie was joking, of course, but Lizzie froze for just a second, and Jeannie’s smile dimmed. Once again, the specter of Marlene Miller cast a pall on the most pleasant of scenes.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I answered, looking carefully at Lizzie. How I wish I knew what Marlene had done to her. I was almost positive that it had something to do with the way the good folks of Orchard Hill treated her.
We walked in silence for a minute or so until I looked back at Charlie and Jeannie, sitting on the glider, their heads together.
“It’s nice, isn’t it? The way they fit each other,” Lizzie said.
“Fit?”
“Yeah, they go together—like salt and pepper.”
I smiled.
“Like strawberries and ice cream, like Jerry Lee and the piano…” She grinned mischievously and looked back at the porch. “Like hugs and kisses.”
“Lizzie.” I admonished her, a little embarrassed.
“What? You think he’s not up there, planting one on her right this minute?”
“Good grief,” I muttered, desperate to change the subject. But I turned around to look anyway.
“How lucky can a girl get?” Her voice sounded a little wistful.
I stopped and stared at her. Was she jealous of Jeannie? I’d seen Lizzie smile at Charlie that day at the barn. I’d heard her say he was nice, like his dad. Was she carrying a torch for Charles Miller? “What do you mean lucky?”
She kept walking, kicking a stone with the toe of her shoe. “Oh, you know. Jeannie is quiet and good. Charlie’s not as quiet, but just as good. And out of all the places in the world they could have been born, they both happen to land here in this little town. Jeannie found a guy who can appreciate her for who she is. Someone who looks at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. So, she’s lucky. Not everyone gets that. Hardly anyone gets that here in Orchard Hill.”
“My parents had it. They really loved each other.”
“That’s good. It makes for good memories.”
“Perhaps it’s not as uncommon as you think.”
“So many times, it starts out good but gets twisted along the way.”
“Not every time,” I insisted.
“Well, I hope that’s not what happens this time.” She nodded back toward the house. “’Cause love’s no fun when it’s all twisted up.”
I had no experience with love, so I kept my mouth shut. It sounded like Lizzie knew of what she spoke. I was curious what made her say such a thing, but then again, I didn’t want to discuss it or even acknowledge that she might have known love. We reached the road, and Lizzie took my hand and squeezed it in hers. “’Night, Billy Ray. Thanks for walking me home.” I loved the way her voice sounded when she drawled out my name.
“’Night, Lizzie.” I watched her walk away, fading into the purple ink of tree shadows until she disappeared completely. Then, I turned and started toward town, my hands in
my pockets.
Chapter 8
The next three weeks were some of the happiest I’d spent since Mama passed away.
The days were filled with the excitement of learning about patient care, medicines, and the inner workings of a medical office. My late afternoons were spent with Lizzie, walking in the country, going to Mrs. Gardener’s, or to the library. After dinner, I’d go out walking again, and often I’d see her somewhere in town—sometimes with one or more of her sisters, sometimes alone.
I’d also learned some interesting tidbits about Lizzie during those weeks: her favorite color was red, she could make a perfect lattice piecrust, and oranges were her favorite fruit. Not everything I wanted to know, of course. We never talked about her past.
I asked Charles which of the boys in town she had dated, and he couldn’t actually think of any. He said she might walk around with someone or other, but she never went places with them, never cruised the Legion building on Saturday nights with anyone, and never went out for a soda at the diner. Marlene said that was because the boys didn’t have to take her out to get her to put out, but by then I knew to take everything she said with a grain of salt. According to Charles, who I considered a much more reliable source, boys would laugh about Lizzie and say she was a good time, but no one seemed to give any specifics. And guys talked to Charlie about girls. His dad was the town doctor not the town preacher.
Another fact I learned was that studying plants wasn’t just a fun way for Lizzie to spend her time. She had plans. She had finished high school in the spring, and her heart was set on being a midwife and herbalist like Mrs. Gardener.
So, I wrote my aunt Catherine and asked her to send one of my biology textbooks from college. When it arrived, I couldn’t wait to show it to Lizzie.
We agreed to meet at the fountain right outside the library, and that was where I found her, fanning herself with a section of newspaper. Funny how just the sound of water made the day seem cooler, even though I knew that wasn’t possible. I walked up and stood in front of her, grinning, with my book behind my back. “Hi there.”
