Her feet are dirty but the floor is clean from the sweeping.
“Where are you from?” I ask. This is not a question I ever get to ask in Katy’s Ridge since few people visit here.
“I was born here in this cabin,” she says. “But when I was a girl, I was sent to live with my aunt in Louisville, Kentucky.”
In my mind, I put Louisville on my list of places to visit someday. I would travel there now if the opportunity presented itself.
“Why’d you come back?” I ask.
“You ask a lot of questions,” she says. “Anybody ever tell you that?”
“Just about everybody tells me that,” I say, looking away from her grin.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you or anything,” she says. “You skipping school?” she asks, like it’s her turn to find out things.
I nod, and lower my head. Skipping school is nothing to be proud of.
“We can keep it a secret if you want,” she says. “I’m good at keeping secrets.”
I wonder if this is true.
Two empty teacups sit on the table. I hope she doesn’t offer me anything to drink.
“When you came to the house yesterday, you said to come see you if I wanted to talk.”
She nods.
“Why would I talk to you? What do you want to tell me?” I ask, looking up at her again.
“There’s two more,” she says, as if catching me at something.
“Two more?”
“Questions,” she says.
“Listen, I can go if you want,” I say, standing.
“No, no,” she says. “I want to get to know you.” She motions for me to sit again.
“Why?” I say, before I can catch myself. But we both smile this time.
“You can call me Melody if you want,” she says.
I nod, but I’m not ready to call her anything.
“You may be related to someone I used to know,” she says.
“I take it you don’t mean Mama,” I say.
“No,” she answers. “I think I knew your daddy.”
My breathing goes shallow. All these years I’ve wanted this question answered and now that it’s as close as the cracked teacup sitting in front of me, I’m not so sure I want to know. If I listen to what she has to say, it feels like it might change everything. And maybe not in a good way.
Dozens of questions rush forward wanting answers, but I don’t speak.
“Would you like to know more?” she asks, like she sees my predicament.
I say I do, but I’m not so sure. All of a sudden, my heart beats like it has a race to run.
She walks over to the door like she’s making sure Mama isn’t coming back. Then she turns to face me again. She isn’t wearing a slip, and her dress—backlit by the sun—reveals her scrawny legs.
“I think your daddy was my brother, Johnny Monroe.” She grins like she takes pleasure from saying it. “He was a couple of years older than your mama and they went to the same school. At least before Johnny dropped out in sixth grade.”
Over the years, I’d imagined that my daddy was smart like Granddaddy. Maybe he even had a college education, which would be a first in my family. It never occurred to me that he might be a sixth grade dropout.
“That was the year our mama died,” she says, as if feeling the need to give a reason. “She died of TB when I was six.”
Melody glances at the bed like that’s the last place she saw her mother alive.
Tuberculosis is feared here in the mountains. Several people have died from it. I wonder if the tuberculosis germs are still living in that bed. Or maybe they are circulating in the air. I hold my breath for a few seconds until I realize I’ve probably already breathed them in anyway.
A part of me wants to run out of the cabin and keep on running until I make it back to Granny’s kitchen. Another part of me feels bolted to the floor. The two parts battle it out in silence.
What if she’s just making this up? Great Aunt Sadie says you can tell from someone’s eyes whether they’re telling the truth or not. If they’re lying, their eyes dart like hummingbirds drinking from flower to flower.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks me. Her voice sounds caring, but her expression reveals something else. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s getting pleasure from somebody else suffering for a change.
“What was he like?” My voice sounds shaky at first, but I smooth it out.
“The truth?” she asks.
I nod to avoid the words shaking again.
“Your daddy was mean as a snake,” she says, her eyes holding steady.
After a short gasp, I have the beginnings of a coughing fit. Melody brings me a glass of water that is slightly brown. The father I imagined was kind, never mean. She reaches over and pats my hand as though life disappoints all of us, so I might as well get used to it. I challenge myself not to pull my hand away, even though her touch is as cold and clammy as a fish out of the Tennessee River.
“How do you know for sure he’s my daddy?”
“I don’t know for sure,” she says. “On account of he’s not here to ask. He died right before you were born.”
“What killed him?” I ask, as another of my fantasies dies. This one being that my daddy isn’t dead at all, but is living somewhere around here and will show up any day to apologize for not being better in touch.
“He fell down a mountain,” she says. “At least that’s what your mama told me.”
“Mama told you that?”
“She sure did. Right before you got here.”
I want to know why Mama kept this from me for all these years and then tells Melody the first day she sees her.
“But how do you know he’s even my daddy?” I ask again, my voice getting stronger.
She pauses. “You know Doc Lester?”
I nod. My family hates Doc Lester, especially Mama. She won’t let him get near me with his doctoring. If Aunt Sadie can’t find a remedy for whatever ails me, Mama says she’ll take me to see the doctor in Rocky Bluff, even though he charges two dollars for an office visit.
“Doc wrote a letter to my aunt in Louisville saying that Johnny had a daughter. He said her name was Lily. That’s your name, right?”
I start to stand, and the chair I’m sitting in crashes to the floor with me in it. I’m lucky the old floor is half rotten or I might have knocked myself out.
“You all right?” Melody leans over me on one knee.
Flat on my back, I take in this person, with bad breath to accompany her bad teeth, who is quite possibly my aunt. The thought occurs to me that I’ve got plenty of aunts already, what do I need with one more?
“You’re wrong,” I say. “Doc Lester lied to you.” I scramble from the floor, my head throbbing. Once upright, the dizziness sets in followed by the tears that threaten to come.
Within seconds, I bolt out of the cabin, hearing Melody call out my name. The mud slows me down as I run through the woods and toward the road. Even though I heard her drive away ages ago, I want Mama’s truck to still be there. By the time I reach the crossroads, it feels like my lungs might burst from my chest. I stop running and lean over to slow my breathing. Once I can stand up straight again, I try to decide what to do next. I take off walking in the direction of the mill where Mama works. She has some major explaining to do.
CHAPTER TEN
Wildflower
My hands are still trembling when I park my truck outside the sawmill. I will do anything to keep Lily safe, yet I’m not sure how to protect her from the truth. I leave my muddy boots at the side door and walk into the office in my socks. Daniel sits at the desk we share, working on the ledger where we keep track of all our orders. Orders that promise to grow leaner as we head into the winter months. Silas—who made Daddy’s coffin and is an old family friend—only works two or three days a week. He cuts the lumber, and with the help of his son, delivers it to wherever it’s needed.
The day before, Daniel assured me that Me
lody wasn’t up to anything and would be gone soon. But he wasn’t in that cabin with her. Nor did he catch her in the lie about her dead or not-so-dead aunt.
When Daniel starts to get up, I motion for him to stay seated and pull another chair next to the desk.
“I need to talk to you,” I say. “It’s serious.”
He puts down the pencil and turns to look at me, his face showing immediate concern. Ever since Daddy died, I’ve relied on Daniel to help me figure things out.
“I’ve just come from the Monroe place,” I say. “I talked to Melody, and if Lily asks, she plans to tell her who her daddy is.”
“Good lord,” Daniel says, his voice soft. He closes the ledger and takes off his glasses that he uses to see the small numbers.
“I don’t trust her, Daniel. Melody Monroe is up to something. I am certain of it.”
“Sounds like you may be right,” he says.
We pause, as if taking this in.
“The timing is uncanny, isn’t it?” I begin again. “She shows up on the anniversary of Daddy’s death, which is also the anniversary of—” I don’t want to say the words. But Daniel knows as well as I do what happened on that first anniversary because he and Mama found me in the woods and carried me all the way home.
I flash on the feeling of being carried in his arms and Mama’s voice calm and steady saying not to give up, that we’d be home soon. Then I wonder how something that happened so long ago can still be so fresh in my memory.
“Uncanny is a good word for it,” Daniel says, his forehead creased.
We exchange looks, unprepared to fight old battles. Daniel studies the eagle tattoo on his arm, as if remembering the war from which Amy’s husband, Nathan, didn’t return. The shrapnel in his leg causes him pain, although most of the time he tries to pretend it doesn’t. On the days it’s hurting him, he chews aspirin like they were peppermints.
“There are ghosts out at that place, Daniel. It’s creepy. Bad things have happened in that cabin. You can just feel it. Like it’s seeping out of the walls or something.”
Daniel looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to make sense of things. “From what I can tell, broken families are everywhere,” he says. “The Monroes are one of those broken families. Whatever good was there at one time died away. In some ways, they never had a chance.”
“I think you’re right,” I say.
“Tell me what you two talked about,” Daniel says.
“She wanted to know how Johnny died,” I tell him. “I didn’t mention that he may not have died in the first place if we hadn’t been chasing him.”
“Johnny brought this on himself,” Daniel says. “He threatened you. Then he broke into the house. There was a reason he was being chased. We were trying to keep you safe.”
“I’m not sure Melody would see it that way,” I tell him.
“It was his choosing,” Daniel says. “If he hadn’t come after you, he would still be alive.”
I remember the Monroe cabin and wonder if choosing has anything to do with all that happened there. Sometimes life has nothing to do with choice.
“Daniel, why did I lie to Lily all these years? I should have told her the truth the first time she asked me.” An unexpected sob catches in my throat.
“You didn’t lie to her,” he says, leaning closer to pat my hand.
“Not saying is the same as lying,” I say. “She’s asked me for years who her daddy is, and I’ve refused to tell her. Nothing kindles a fire like the flames of silence.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Daniel says. “You were just trying to protect her. Anybody in your position would have done the same thing.”
“Anybody?”
“Anybody,” he says. He acts certain, but Daniel is loyal to a fault. I’m not sure I can trust him to tell me when I’m truly in the wrong.
“I should have made up a story. Anything to throw her off track. It was the secretiveness that was wrong. It just made things too enticing.”
“Tell me exactly what Melody said when you talked to her,” Daniel says, repositioning his hurt leg.
“She said Lily has a right to know, and that if Lily asks her, she will tell her.”
“Maybe Lily won’t ask.”
We exchange a look.
“Right. When has Lily ever not asked?” he says.
“Lily not asking is like laying odds that the sun won’t come up tomorrow morning,” I say.
“Not very good odds,” Daniel says, looking thoughtful again. “Well, she’s at school now, so at least it won’t happen anytime soon. You’ll have a little time to prepare.”
I glance at the ledger that documents all the revenue and expenses of the sawmill.
“Do you think I should offer Melody money not to tell Lily?”
“Trust me,” Daniel says, “you don’t have any money to offer her.”
“Maybe I should have reasoned with her more,” I say, biting my bottom lip.
“It’s easy for parents to think they didn’t do enough,” Daniel says. “But when is anything ever enough? More love could always be given. That goes for compassion and kindness, too.”
“It’s clear I messed up, Daniel.”
He pauses, “If you really feel that way, then maybe telling Lily makes sense.”
“It’s going to hurt her,” I say.
“Life hurts us all,” he says.
“For years, Lily’s built up these fantasies about who her daddy was,” I begin again. “You know what a big dreamer she is. Always has been. She expects life to turn out okay no matter what. I was that way, too, remember? Until that day—”
“Bad things happen to everybody,” he says, patting his leg. “When are you going to get it into that thick skull of yours that you didn’t do anything wrong?”
“I may never get it,” I say, lowering my eyes.
Daniel stands, grabs his cane that is hooked on the handle of the desk drawer and puts a hand on my shoulder.
Tears come.
“If Daddy had been alive, he would have protected me from Johnny,” I begin. “But then Lily wouldn’t exist, and I’m not sure who I’d be without Lily. How can the worst thing to happen in my life, give me the best thing to ever happen? I just don’t get it.”
“I don’t get it, either,” he says. “Life is a mystery to all of us.”
Daniel goes back to the ledger. I need to tell Lily the truth before Melody does, but this thought scares me almost as much as the other secret of my life coming to light. I just don’t want Lily to have to grow up as fast as I did. But I have to prepare Lily for the world. Otherwise, what kind of parent am I?
The telephone rings and gives us both a start. The voice on the line is the secretary from the high school. I listen and then thank her, telling her that I’ll handle it. I hang up the phone.
“I may be too late in wanting to do the right thing,” I say to Daniel. “Looks like Lily skipped school today. For all I know, Lily is already at Melody’s learning the truth about who her father was.”
Daniel stands and cusses. I wonder if he’s cussing because of what I just told him or if his leg is hurting him.
“I don’t want to lose her, Daniel. There for a while, Mama almost lost me. If I lost Lily, it would break my heart.”
“It would break both your hearts,” he says, handing me my coat.
I put on my muddy boots and run outside to my truck, retracing the way I came thirty minutes before. After the truck jolts to life, I shift the gears from first to third, pushing the old truck as fast as it can go toward the Monroe cabin, wondering if my relationship with Lily is strong enough to bear the truth.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lily
When I arrive at the sawmill, Mama’s truck isn’t in front but Uncle Daniel’s is. I can’t quit thinking about what Melody told me. I find Uncle Daniel sitting in the office doing the books.
“Where’s Mama?” I ask.
He stands, a grimace crossing his face from the pain
in his leg. “She just left. She’s out looking for you. I’m surprised you didn’t see her.”
“Why is she looking for me?” I ask.
“The school called,” he says. “She knows you didn’t go today.”
I moan. Who gets caught the one time they skip? You do, I say to myself. You with the mean daddy who dropped out of school in sixth grade.
“Can you take me over to Great Aunt Sadie’s?” I ask him. I’m not sure why I want to go there, except I need to talk to someone. Great Aunt Sadie is who Mama goes to when something is bothering her, either her or Uncle Daniel.
“Wouldn’t you rather stay here and wait on your mama?” he asks.
I cross my arms, trying to keep my anger from spilling out all over Uncle Daniel. “Can you take me to Great Aunt Sadie’s or not?” I ask. “I need to talk to her. It’s important.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it? Maybe I can help,” he says.
“No thank you,” I say.
I love my Uncle Daniel, but he’s not the one I need to talk to. I need to talk to Mama. But if she’s not around then I need to ask Great Aunt Sadie why Mama lied to me all these years. Although, if what Melody said is true, maybe she was too embarrassed to tell.
Uncle Daniel limps out to his truck with me following close behind. His truck is newer than Mama’s but is still old, and a Chevrolet instead of a Ford. On the dashboard are photographs of my Aunt Jo and my cousins, Bolt and Nat. Uncle Daniel starts the engine and puts it into gear. He drives slow, and I wonder if he’s stalling for time, hoping we will meet Mama on the road.
“I’ll tell your mother you’re at your Great Aunt Sadie’s,” he says.
“Don’t tell her anything,” I say.
He glances at me while he drives. “You know I can’t do that, Lily. I never keep secrets from your mother.”
I huff, and Uncle Daniel rubs his bad leg like I’m making it worse. We ride along in silence until he tries to make conversation again, but I’m not in the mood. Great Aunt Sadie is the one person in my family I can count on to tell me the truth. If this Johnny Monroe character is my father, I want to hear it from her lips.
“Did you know that woman who showed up yesterday?” I ask, thinking Uncle Daniel probably knows everything, but he’s under Mama’s spell and sworn to secrecy.
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