Still House Pond

by Jan Watson

  “That’s settled, then,” Big Boy said. “Now I know you got preparations to make before you leave. Is there anyone you want me to tell? anything I can do for you?”

  “Let’s see,” Copper said. Her mind was a blank, but Big Boy was right. She had to see to the needs of her other children before she left. “Please stop by Brother Jasper’s. We need powerful prayer.”

  “I’ll do that on my way home. I’ll need to tell Mary, but I’ll be back in plenty of time to get you to the station.” Big Boy headed with his horse toward the watering trough.

  Copper clasped John’s hands and prayed, “Surround Lilly with a host of guardian angels, Lord. Keep her safely in the shadow of Your wings. Be with all the folks who were on that train and with all their families. And give us strength for the journey. Your will be done, Father. Amen.”

  A loud popping noise caught Copper’s attention. Jack was throwing green apples at the side of the barn. Had he heard? “John, you’ll have to talk to Jack. He’ll be upset at both of us leaving him.”

  “Shouldn’t I go get Cara? Someone will have to stay with the kids. We can’t leave Remy with all this.”

  Copper felt like screaming. How could she concentrate on anything but Lilly? Had the world not stopped? “That’s a good plan. Take Jack with you.”

  “All right, and I’ll ask Dimmert to see to the animals and milk Bertha while we’re away.”

  Copper searched John’s face. She saw fear and confusion. Whimpering, she fell against his chest. “I can’t stand this. I’ll be out of my mind before we get to Four Corners.”

  John held her tightly. “It’s a matter of faith. You prayed God’s will be done. Now we have to accept that what will be, will be. There’s not a thing you can do by fretting to change one iota of what has already happened.”

  “But what if she’s lying there hurt? What if she’s calling for me?” Her voice rose shrilly. She felt close to panic.

  John took her by the upper arms and held her out from him. He looked into her eyes. “Stop. Don’t borrow trouble. Isn’t it just as likely that she’s sitting in the depot waiting for us to come and fetch her home?”

  “But Alice said, ‘No news of Lilly.’ If she was safe, wouldn’t they know?”

  “Alice probably got word of the wreck last night because she lives in the city. I’m sure the officials hadn’t had time to sort everything out by then.”

  “But Big Boy said casualties.”

  “He also said most of the passengers survived. Cling to that word, okay?”

  “Yes, I will. I’ll start getting ready for the trip. You go on and get Cara.”

  John pulled her close again. “That’s my girl. You can do this.”

  She took a deep breath and turned toward the house. Give me strength, God, she prayed.

  As they prepared to leave, folks began to gather around, offering whatever help they could. Half a dozen people from church knelt on the porch praying aloud. An elderly lady Copper didn’t even know swept the front walk with the stub of a broom. Gurney Jasper went in the barn and came out with a hoe. He headed for the garden. Ace Shelton carried the one suitcase she had packed toward Big Boy’s buggy. Dance and all her kids spread quilts under the apple tree. Mazy, Molly, Merky, and Jack joined them there. Several women brought food, which Cara tucked away in the pie safe.

  Abe and Tillie Sizemore came with their boy. Tillie brought him shyly to the door. “I thought seeing Abe Jr. might offer ye some comfort.”

  Copper opened the screen door and took the baby. She laid her cheek against the little boy’s fuzzy head. It brought tears to her eyes along with a fierce longing to have her firstborn safe and sound in her arms again. “Thank you,” she said shakily. “He really is a Jumbo now.”

  “Thanks to you. Abe and me—we pray for you every single night.”

  “Your prayers are precious to me. Please pray for Lilly.”

  Tillie ducked her head. Copper watched the young mother join Dance under the apple tree. Dance held out her arms, and Tillie gave her Abe Jr. Copper couldn’t help but be cheered by that. People were coming together in a time of need, just like they always did here in the mountains.

  John brought Brother Jasper into the kitchen. Brother Jasper carried his big black Bible.

  Copper fought back tears. “Have you heard from Mrs. Jasper and Kate?”

  “Not directly,” Brother Jasper said. “Gurney will go to Jackson after a while and send a telegraph to her sister’s. She’ll want to know about Lilly.”

  Big Boy stuck his head in the door. “Ready when you are.”

  “Let’s offer prayer,” Brother Jasper said.

  John, Copper, Cara, Big Boy, and Remy joined hands as Brother Jasper prayed a short but powerful prayer. He ended with a Scripture from Isaiah: ‘“Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name: thou art mine. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.’” He clasped first John’s hands and then Copper’s. “God be with you, Brother and Sister Pelfrey.”

  Copper felt clothed with the full armor of truth. She was ready for whatever lay ahead. She followed the men out the door.

  Remy stopped her and handed her the doctor’s bag. “I put in everything I could find that you might need.”

  “Oh, I didn’t even think of this. Of course I need it.” Copper bent to hug her friend.

  Remy allowed it and even gave a squeeze back followed by a broken sob. “I still can feel the poor little thing’s hug around my neck,” she said before she turned and fled to the back of the house.

  John stood holding the door for her. Copper walked across the porch, down the steps, and toward the waiting horses. She stopped along the way to thank the old granny who was sweeping the path.

  “I’ll do ary thing I can to help,” the lady said. She looked at Copper through eyes like round black buttons. “You might think you can’t get through this, but I’m living proof ye can.”

  “Thank you,” Copper said. “I’ll cling to that.”

  Jack ran behind as they rode off in the buggy, his feet churning up the dusty road. “Good-bye, Mama,” he called out. “Good-bye, Daddy. Bring Lilly home fast.”

  Dimmert came up behind Jack and lifted him to his shoulders. Jack’s laughter buoyed Copper’s spirit. It would have to last for a good long while.

  24

  When Lilly Gray woke, she prayed for a miracle. On her tender knees, she fervently asked God to whisk her away from the place where she was confined and back to her own clean sheets and fluffy feather pillow, back to Mazy and Molly and Jack hogging half her bed, back to the smell of biscuits baking and bacon frying. Instead, she saw the same ugly ridged tin walls, the same old junk hanging from the same old beams and breathed in the same musty air.

  For the first time she noticed her mud-stained skirts and missing shoe. “A perfectly beautiful outfit ruined,” she said to the dog.

  The dog wagged her tail and came up for a pat on the head.

  “You’re glad to be here, aren’t you, girl? You’re feeling safe and happy this morning.” Lilly bent over her knees and unbuttoned her spats. It was a tedious job without a buttonhook. “Just look at this.” She held the kid-leather spat out for the dog’s perusal.

  The dog tugged it from her hand and began to chew.

  “Enjoy your breakfast,” she said. “You might as well eat them. They can’t be saved.”

  She took off her other spat and shoe. Her stockings had long laddered runs and bloodied holes in the knees. Her skirt was stiff with mud, and she had no idea what had become of her hat. She was a mess, a complete mess. And the dog was not much better. Her short fur was matted, and little bits of mud flaked off her feet when she walked.

  Maybe she’d use some of the water to wash up a bit so she would be presentable when Daddy John came to get her out. Oh, he was going to be so m
ad. That awful man who drowned the puppies would pay for stealing her. He would pay. And Mama—well, that mean-spirited fellow didn’t want to face her mama.

  Anger helped get Lilly up off the pallet she had made. Moving the puppy from one side to the other, she straightened their bed as best she could. The puppy mewled in its puppy way, and the mother licked it all over with her slurpy tongue.

  “At least one of us will be clean,” Lilly said.

  Looking about the room, she decided she would pull one box off the stack to use for a table. They could keep their water there and the packet of potatoes and corn bread. Her stomach growled. Should she eat it all now or try to save some? Would the man bring more? She guessed he wouldn’t have brought the first packet if he meant for her to starve to death. She went to get the water jar.

  Right inside the door, Lilly found the answer to her prayer. Her own little miracle—comfort from home. How could she have missed her valise and her wicker carryall last night when she saw the jug of water? She would swear it wasn’t there, which meant the man had come a second time and she hadn’t heard the squeaking door. That wasn’t good. She didn’t want him to catch her sleeping. Maybe she should throw the latch on this side of the door and lock him out like he locked her in. But, no—then he couldn’t bring more food and water. Oh, she was mad enough to spit.

  She decided she was wasting her energy on the man. Here she’d just received a blessing, and she wasn’t taking time to appreciate it. She took her miracles back to the box table. The smell of fried chicken was enough to make her mouth water. But she wasn’t about to eat at the table without first washing her hands. Using her box stool, she stood on it and unhooked two battered granite pans. One would do for a washbasin, and one would do for the dogs’ water bowl.

  There was a quandary in the midst of many quandaries. She couldn’t very well wash up on the same table she ate on, and she didn’t want to take another box from her privy wall. Then it wouldn’t be private. She burst into tears. Why did everything have to be so hard?

  Her tears upset the dog, so Lilly blotted her eyes on her sleeve. If she and Kate were playing house, what would they do? Seeing the obvious answer, she went to the privy wall and moved the wooden boxes around until one stuck out, making a sort of shelf. She put her washbasin on it. Perfect. Just as she’d marked out the rooms on the flat rock beside the creek where they’d played house, Lilly had her living quarters arranged. There was the box that served as a kitchen table. There was the bedroom where her “baby” slept contentedly. Here was her washstand and there was her privy.

  She poured some of the precious water into the pan and washed her face and hands. Lifting her skirt, she found a clean bit of petticoat and dried herself.

  “There, much better.” Unfastening the wooden toggle that held the lid of the wicker hamper together, she lifted the lid and feasted her eyes on fried chicken, hard-boiled eggs, red ripe tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, biscuits, cake, and pie. She clapped in delight. “We’ve got a feast, doggy, a veritable feast. What should we sample first?”

  She guessed they’d best start with the chicken. Everything else would keep. She picked up a drumstick and sniffed it suspiciously. The grease it had been fried in smelled stale, but the meat hadn’t turned. She ate the two legs but gave the dog the breast. She needed it more than Lilly did since she was nursing a puppy. They also ate most of what was left of the potatoes and corn bread from the brown paper packet.

  Tears threatened again when she saw Mama had packed her toothbrush and a tin of Colgate’s dental powder in the bottom of the hamper. Mama never let her eat one meal without cleaning her teeth afterward.

  She washed her hands again in the same water. That was disgusting, but she didn’t want to waste it. After she wet her toothbrush and sprinkled on the clean-tasting powder, she went as far away from her bed as she could and brushed, rinsed, and spat there. She used the linen towel from the hamper to dry around her mouth. When she finished, she spread the towel over the top of the box. It looked cheery there with its embroidery of bright yellow daisies and spread-winged bluebirds.

  Next she looked through the valise. She had one day dress, one petticoat, one nightgown, several pairs of pantalets, several pairs of clean hose, and her everyday shoes. Also she’d packed her hairbrush, some ribbons, and a comb. No need to be less than tidy. She laid the dress along with clean undergarments across her bed. Best of all was finding her small Bible. This she laid atop the towel beside her brush and comb and the watch and fob she’d unpinned from her jacket. The watch didn’t tick but sloshed when she shook it. Everything looked right at home on the table. The things she didn’t need right now were packed back inside the valise. She closed it and put it beside the door in case she had to grab it in a hurry when Daddy came.

  Before she changed, she looked through the crack beside the door. There was no one out there, but still she changed lickety-split. It felt good as anything to get out of that corset. She liked to be fashionable as much as anyone, but this was not the place. She folded the traveling outfit around the corset and left them on the floor. She never wanted to wear them again—not even if Aunt Remy washed them with her homemade lye soap.

  She walked around the room liking the feel of her comfortable, broken-in shoes. This was a boring place. How would she spend the rest of the day? Maybe she should clean up the dog’s spot. Then she’d have to wash her hands again. How much water was left? Only a third of a jar. She tried to save it, but she was so thirsty and the beagle was also. She could watch for her daddy to come. It probably wouldn’t be long now.

  The dog watched every step she took. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you or your baby here in this dreadful place. You’ll like my house. I’ve got a brother and two sisters and a cat and kittens.” She shook her finger in the dog’s direction. “Promise you won’t chase the cats? or the rooster? He’ll turn on you if you do.” She knelt beside the dog and pointed to a teeny round spot on her forehead. “See that? There’s where I got flogged once. Mama threatened to make rooster stew, but I cried and begged her not to.”

  With a huge, bored sigh she flung her arms wide and fell backward on the pallet. “That rooster’s living on borrowed time.”

  Her fall startled the mother dog. She jumped and, tucking her tail, cowered in front of her.

  Lilly stroked the top of the dog’s head and her ears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She started laughing. “Besides, I cracked my head. I forgot I wasn’t on my bed at home.”

  The dog lay down beside her. The puppy, ever hungry, wriggled their way.

  “I’ll bet we make a pretty picture—a girl with a cracked head and a dog with pointy fur. When you get finished with this feeding, I’ll comb the mud out of your hair. How’s that?”

  The dog pointed her long nose at the wicker basket and whined.

  “It’s not time for dinner. You can tell by the light it’s not nearly noon yet. Besides, my largesse only goes so far.”

  The dog rested her head on crossed paws, feigning interest.

  “Largesse? It’s from the French largesse. It means giving generously. It’s the opposite of stingy. Largesse was last week’s new word. Before that the word was cipher.” She twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “Cipher has two meanings actually. It could mean an insignificant person or figuring numbers. It’s a pretty word—don’t you think? If I have triplets when I grow up and get married, I could name them Verily, Inasmuch, and Cipher. I’ll bet in the whole history of the world there’s never been triplets with those names. But enough of that. You need to stop paying attention to me and feed your baby.”

  Lilly’s eyes grew heavy. She was having trouble keeping them open, as if there were itty-bitty fishing sinkers attached to her lids. Sitting up, she shook her head. She needed to stay alert. What if Daddy walked by and she missed him? After all he didn’t know she was up in the treetops.

  The dog yawned mightily.

  “Thanks. That helps a lot.” Lilly yawned t
oo. She lay back down and stroked the puppy’s soft fur. It felt like Aunt Alice’s fancy coat. Her eyes closed. She would rest them for a minute.

  Lilly woke hours later bathed in perspiration. The sun was bearing down on the tin shack like a furnace. If it weren’t for the deep shade provided by the trees, Lilly figured they’d be toast. It would only get hotter as the day wore on. She needed to do something. There had to be a way out of this place.

  She drank some more water and topped off the dog’s dish. The dog shouldn’t have to beg. There was only a quarter of a jar left. She made her way around the room pushing on each tin panel—one might be loose. No such luck.

  Tipping her head way back, she studied the roof. If she had a pole, she could poke it through the flimsy-looking thatch. But she didn’t have one, and besides, what good would that do?

  Frustrated, she went around the room again until she came to the door. Leaning up against the wall was the piece of wood that blocked the opening of the door from the inside. She fiddled with the latch to see how it worked. It was simple enough—a length of wood lay between two heavy metal pieces that were screwed to the wall and acted as notches to hold the wooden bar. Through the crack she could see a bit of the outside bar. Could she lift it from inside? All she needed was something to slip through the opening and pry the block up.

  She went around the room again. It was making her dizzy. How did she expect to find the right tool when she didn’t even know what she was looking for? She climbed up on her step box for a different view. There was something long and polelike lying atop the rafter that she hadn’t been able to see from the floor. She moved the box in front of where the pole should be and tiptoed to grab it. The box tipped and she fell. Her chin hit the corner of the shelf she’d made on the privy wall. Wash water splashed her face when the basin slid off.

  Lilly held her chin with both hands. It stung like fire, and there was blood on her fingers when she dared to look. If she kept this up, she would be maimed like the poor beggar children in India she had once seen in a book in Aunt Alice’s library. The blood on her fingers made her feel as dizzy as walking around the room had.