by E A Lake
Standing at the kitchen sink, she continued to stare out the window overlooking our back field.
“Sunshine,” I demanded. “You need to get over this and answer me.”
More silence.
“You should be happy I’m not mad at you for taking advantage of my son. Another mother might have—”
“You should be happy I haven’t given you a couple grandbabies by now,” she replied in the snottiest of tones. “If I had my cycle, like some women still do, I would have had a few by Walker. Any man with a tool that big—”
“Sunshine!” I shrieked.
“You ready to give up on trading my man away?” she replied. “Cause if you ain’t, I’m willing to go on and on with all the gory details any mother would love to hear about her baby boy.”
“If we don’t get to the Amish store so we can reinforce our supplies, I won’t have any choice but to lend him to Mr. Hulton for another year,” I countered. “But you keep stalling and won’t commit to going with me.”
“Go by yourself, for all I care.”
I thought about strangling her but instead rubbed her shoulders lovingly.
“I can’t go by myself,” I replied. “I need your help.”
She smiled. Maybe I’d finally gotten through to her. “Say the words,” she demanded.
Maybe not. “Sunshine, you know I can’t promise—”
“Did I ever tell you what he learned from Isabella?” she interrupted. “He’s got a way of a kissing girl all over—”
“And what happens if we run out of food or wood or other supplies before winter ends?”
“It gives me goose bumps right now recalling how warm it made me feel inside—”
I slapped my hands over my ears and dashed back into the bedroom. I had to have her help to make a run to the Amish store. I knew I couldn’t survive the trip without her. All she wanted was to know that Walker was coming home at the end of summer. And not a moment later.
But Walker was my son, my very own flesh and blood. He’d understand, if need be. Sunshine, on the other hand? I was afraid if I had to extend Walker’s contract with Hulton, she’d be whispering all their lovemaking details into my ear while I slept—perhaps for the next year.
A plan hatched in my head one afternoon not long after I’d learned of Walker’s sexual awakening. If I was honest, it was a terrible plan. But it might be the only option I had left.
Sunshine heard me out and waited until I’d finished before she responded. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad plan after all.
“You want my honest opinion?” she asked, her tone full of sincerity.
Finally, I’d come across my solution. “Of course,” I answered.
“You’re a moron,” Sunshine replied. “A first-rate, full-fledged, one-hundred-fifty… per-cent… mo-ron.”
She rose and planted a hand on each of my shoulders. “How the hell did anyone as stupid as you ever figure out how to have children?” she continued, not really getting the point of my plan. “I mean, Bradley and Brady must have felt sorry taking advantage of a dimwit like you.”
I pushed her away. “What’s so bad about the plan? You get to stay with Walker. I’m the one giving up the most here.”
She eyed me as if my head were on upside down. “You’re going to let Hulton adopt your son.”
I raised a finger. “Only with the understanding that you two are betrothed and he has to honor the engagement.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “He wants Walker, not me, Abby.”
“But he’ll have to take you if—”
“He don’t like black people,” she countered.
“What?”
“You ever see any of my people over at his place?” she replied. “And think about that before you spit out an answer.”
Maybe I’d never paid that close of attention to who worked at Mr. Hulton’s ranch. I recalled several Ramirezes and Rodriguezes though their first names escaped me. I knew he had one Native American family in his employ. That had to count for something.
“It’s a plan,” I said, pulling on my chin. “There’s still a few kinks that need working out, but I think it could work.”
“You gonna run it by Lasky first?” Sunshine asked. “Or you gonna take your load of shit right to Hulton himself?”
I peered back at her over my shoulder, biting my lower lip. I wasn’t sure. The more I spoke and the more she countered, the more I wasn’t sure it was such a good plan, regardless of what I said aloud.
“You’d better figure this whole thing out before you go talking about it outside these walls,” Sunshine added. “Otherwise, they’re gonna see through you, and then Hulton will know Walker is all his.”
She came close and stared deeply into my eyes. “And if that happens, you may just lose a friend and find your sorry ass all alone for as long as you manage to live.”
Chapter 70
Winter returned with a vengeance two days later. Another all-day storm accompanied by gusty north winds and plummeting temperatures put a damper on our plans to get to the store. Now, we’d have to wait for the next break in the weather.
I sat by the fire, watching the orange flames lick at the glass front of the stove. The dried oak crackled as it slowly burned, occasionally popping, which caused me to startle.
My thoughts that day were of Sasha. With each passing week, I seemed to recall less and less of her. I found myself in the dresser, digging out some of her clothes, holding them as if she were still in them.
In the past, Sunshine would have chastised me for such a frivolous activity. She claimed I was living in the past. Lately though, it was different.
Whenever my friend found me crying into a small flannel shirt or a pair of tiny worn blue jeans, she simply sat next to me and hugged me until the weeping passed. Misery truly loved company.
“We don’t have a ton of food left,” Sunshine announced from over my shoulder. Jolted back to the present by her voice, I turned and watched her eat from what I knew was the last jar of applesauce.
“We didn’t have a ton to start,” I countered, smiling at her. “I’m sure we have enough to make it until the weather turns decent again.”
She shrugged, licking the spoon, making slurping noises that ground on my nerves. “I suppose.”
I turned more serious. “We have to get to the store, Sunshine. The next nice day we have to.”
Still not looking at me, she nodded slightly.
“I mean it, Sunshine.”
Finally, her eyes found me. “Have you always been such a bitch and I just missed it? Or do you just hate me because me and Walker have been so close and you were too stupid to see it?”
I was over the shock of Sunshine and Walker… mostly. The more I considered the situation, the more I accepted that it could have happened—that it did happen. Further, Sunshine was a good person, raised by a loving grandparent, and had always been there for me. And Walker, as well, so it seemed.
“How much food we got left, you suppose?” Sunshine moaned from her hiding spot.
About three weeks’ worth at our current eating pace, which was much too fast, given our limited supply. Four, maybe five weeks if we scrimped at meals.
“Figure a month,” I replied. “And there’s a lot more winter left than that. So we have to get to the store. No excuses, no feeling low, no nothing. We have to get there.”
I turned and found her staring at me.
“Or else?” she asked in a timid voice.
I shook my head slowly. “Walker won’t be coming home as scheduled.”
Every time the weather broke over the next few weeks, we weren’t ready for a four-mile trip. If I was honest about it, it was foolish to think we would have ever made it.
The snow outside our door was piled so high that a journey to the woodshed became a half-day adventure.
First, we had to bundle up to fight off the bitter cold that accompanied the clear blue skies. After that, we usually had to shovel away the drifts
that became prevalent with the howling winter winds. By the time we had enough wood stacked inside for two or three days, all of our energy was spent.
And our food stock continued to dwindle.
The roads were virtually impassable because of the snow and ice. Perhaps we could have walked there, sans cart. Pulling the two-wheeled beast, we would have never made it.
Still, in my mind, we had to get to the store. As I stared at a few plastic sacks of dried fruits and vegetables and played with our final three jars of preserved meats, I knew we were in serious trouble.
We were back to eating a very small meal each morning and a not-much-larger one later in the day. We had plenty of water; the easily melted snow made that possible. When I discovered we were dangerously low on wood, I began to watch the road, hoping to see help coming our way. But it never did.
We were, in a word, screwed. I knew it, Sunshine knew it, and there was nothing we could do to help ourselves. Not a single thing.
“How long can we live, again, without eating?” Sunshine asked as she ate the last of the dried pears one evening.
“Two, maybe three weeks,” I answered weakly. “We only have enough wood for a few more days, though. So I would say we have a life expectancy of two weeks, at the most.”
She chuckled, giving me a grand grin. “I would have never thought it was going to end like this,” she said, reaching for my glove-covered hands. “Not after all the stuff I had to see and do after I left GeeMah’s house. No, ma’am.”
“And yet here we are.” My mood darkened each day. I was at the point where idle conversation was almost too much to muster.
“I gotta tell you something,” Sunshine said. “And you’re not gonna like me after I tell you.”
I stared at her, refusing to speak.
“I saw that woman that Brady ran off with. The blond Andersen gal.”
I sat up. “When?”
“The spring before they left. He was working in the garden, turning over the black dirt. She came off the road and started chatting with him.”
My eyes narrowed, and I felt my lips tighten into a straight line.
“And yet this is the first you’ve ever mentioned it,” I replied, letting a sharp tone show my disappointment.
She shrugged. “I didn’t know anything was up. Might not have even been her.” Her eyes rose. “Though it sounds like her. She was flirty, laughing and rubbing Brady’s arms. They was quite a pair.”
“Sunshine,” I squeaked. “Why didn’t you ever—”
“Because you’re better off without him,” she answered in a raised voice. “It’s too bad he took Sasha. But I didn’t know he was running off with her. Him being gone was the best thing that ever happened to you. It gave you your own life back, made you stand on your own two feet. But I’m sorry he took Sasha.”
“Do you think…”
“He was mean, Abby. He was mean to me, mean to Walker”—her head shook in small fits— “and mean to you. Even in hell, you deserved better.”
Brady was mean-spirited, if I were honest about it. But I always tried to look past that and see the good sides of him. Though they were few, he was protection and a quasi-provider.
“He ran off because he had a better offer,” I stated in a monotone voice. “Didn’t he?”
Sunshine rose and circled the table, hugging me tightly.
“Ain’t possible,” she answered, rocking me gently. “Just ain’t possible. ’Cuz there ain’t no one better that I ever met than you, Abigail Turner. No one.”
Chapter 71
I would have groused for days about Sunshine's news about Brady, but I didn’t have the extra energy to care. Refusing to eat, I allowed myself to wallow for several days in self-pity that only made me even more pathetic than I was. By the time I chose to eat again, we were nearly out of food.
A miracle appeared on our door shortly after that. And it had to have been sent by God because only godly people cared enough about the poor, wretched souls like Sunshine and me.
I opened the door to let Mr. and Mrs. Frederickson into our nearly frozen, lifeless home. I’m sure everything inside seemed gray to them, except perhaps our white steamy breaths, which came out as we spoke.
They were only able to bring us a meager meal or two. Winter life hadn’t been easy for them, either.
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to bring you much,” Mr. Frederickson offered. He appeared embarrassed by the size of his gift. It struck me as funny, seeing as he was just temporarily delaying the inevitable for the two of us.
“We appreciate anything,” I replied, sounding nearly dead.
“It’s been hard,” Mrs. Frederickson picked up. “The weather’s been awful. Half the time, we can’t get at our chores. Livestock are dying from exposure. We spend most of our time just trying to stay warm and feed the twelve of us. And now everyone’s been sick.” She paused and smiled thinly. “Well, everyone but me and Gene here.”
“Did you see anyone out at the Hulton place?” Sunshine asked. I knew what she was after. She may as well have just asked if they had spotted Walker outside.
His head shook before Mr. Frederickson answered. “Just smoke from all the chimneys. They aren’t ever out much in the winter. Their tasks are pretty well done by the time the snow arrives.”
“Do you have enough food?” Mrs. Frederickson inquired in a motherly tone. “And how about wood? There must be something we can do for these poor women.”
“We’re low on everything,” I replied, patting her shoulder. “But thanks to you, we have hope again. Thank you for that.”
The pair rose and offered hugs, which was unusual for them. Perhaps they realized that was the last time they’d ever see us alive.
“I’ll try to make a run to the store and get you as many supplies as I can,” Mr. Frederickson said, squeezing me tightly. “And me and one of the boys can try and run you down a load of split oak. You can count on us, Mrs. Turner.”
They left the same way they came: in an open buggy pulled by a single horse, wrapped up to protect themselves from the elements. As they rode away, I waved. It might have been the last time I would ever see them—perhaps until we met again in the Heaven my former neighbors spoke so kindly about.
Our death nail came two days later. The flu—or whatever had invaded the Frederickson house—found two new victims: Sunshine first and me a day later. Besides being cold and hungry, we added nausea and aching bodies to our list of maladies.
We took turns lying on the couch and attempting to stoke a dying fire. I claimed Sunshine didn’t do a very good job adding the last batch from our woodpile to the stove; she claimed the same on my part.
“Did GeeMah have a remedy for the flu?” I moaned one afternoon from my spot on the couch opposite Sunshine. I was fully dressed and wrapped in every blanket that my housemate hadn’t claimed for herself.
“Chicken soup, I think.” Her answer was weak, both in voice and spirit. “Like that old bitch ever gave a rat’s ass about anyone but herself.”
Even though I didn’t think I had the energy to do so, I sat up, gawking at her. Sunshine’s answer flat-out startled me.
“Sunshine,” I scolded. “How can you say that about your beloved grandmother? She raised you, she took care of you, fed you, clothed you, bathed you. Take it back. Take it back now.”
From her prone spot on the far couch, she chuckled. “Goes to show just how much you really know about me. She wasn’t anything like that. She was a mean, nasty bitch.”
My head ached from the new information. Maybe it was the delirium taking over. We hadn’t eaten much in the past week and had been sick almost as long, as well.
“What are you saying?” I asked, trying to absorb her words.
She rolled and faced me. “I just told you all of that so you wouldn’t feel sorry for me. All the good stuff, it was all made up, not one word of it true.”
Shuffling in her spot, she rose slightly. “She fed us, but she was always pissed about it
. Said we were taking food right from her own mouth. She gave us all a spot to sleep, but we had to fight one another for covers and blankets. She was cold, always hollering or spanking someone. She didn’t die, Abby. I left her before she beat me to death.”
I leaned nearer her. “Why couldn’t you be honest with me? Why make up all these lies about someone? You turned her into a saint in my mind.”
“For the exact look on your face right now,” Sunshine replied. “I didn’t want your pity. I didn’t want you to like me because I was abused. I wanted you to love me for who I am. Not what I was.”
Stroking my chin, I returned to my spot on the couch. First was the truth about her and my son. Then came the real news of Brady. Finally, I found out GeeMah wasn’t all she was cracked up to be.
“Why so many secrets?” I asked, trying not to sound disappointed or judgmental.
I watched her shake slightly from across the room. “Just the way it is nowadays, I suppose. You don’t always feel like you can be honest with me, so how am I supposed to be honest with you? Secrets is all we got left, the way I see it. It’s the only thing that’s really ours and ours alone.”
“When was I ever dishonest with you?” I chided. “Name one time when I wasn’t completely forthright.”
I could see her smile even with my dimmed vision. “Every time I ask you about food, you lie. When I knew we had two week’s worth left, you said there was a month’s worth. I know we ain’t got nothing now, but you’ll tell me there’s a little left.”
My face scrunched with shame. “That’s different. I was just trying to be optimistic. You can be so negative sometimes.”
I saw her shrug. “Negative or not, I still deserve the truth.”
She had a point, but I still felt our lies were on two vastly different planes.
I let the silence go on for a long while as I contemplated my past. The mistakes I’d made still haunted me: Bradley’s death, Brady’s betrayal, losing my son. Even in death, the past found me.
