I thank her again, not knowing what my evening may bring. “June, what if Lily hates me after this? If Mama kept a secret from me for fourteen years, I’d be furious.”
She stands, looking over at the laundry on the line. “She won’t stay angry for long,” June says. “She knows how much you love her. Hell, everybody in Katy’s Ridge knows how much you love her.”
“Do they?”
“That’s another reason they’ve probably kept quiet all these years,” she says. “They’ve been struck speechless by how much you love that girl. Don’t underestimate the power of love when it comes to healing things.”
We walk together to the front of the house where Horatio and Crow sit on the porch. In the distance, Pearl walks down the road with two of her siblings. School is out.
“You stay safe,” I say, and give Crow a hug.
He promises he will.
Pearl walks up to the porch and smiles at her brother, happy he’s still here.
“You see Lily today?” I ask her.
She looks away.
“I know she skipped school,” I say. “They called.”
“I haven’t talked to her since yesterday afternoon when I came over to your house,” Pearl says.
I realize that was before Melody made her appearance. “She may need to talk to you later,” I say. “Something big has happened.”
Pearl grins like she’s itching to know what happened. Sometimes I wonder why Pearl and Lily are friends. Pearl seems younger, somehow. Lily is quieter. She might even be called shy, if not for her singing. When she sings, she changes. She fills with life. She’s happy when she sings, and her constant questioning stops. It’s as if the answers flow from her then, and she is totally herself. The feeling visits me again that whatever is going on is far from over, and that no secret is safe.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lily
After talking to Great Aunt Sadie, I decide to go to the mill to talk to Mama. When I walk I usually sing something, or at the very least I hum a tune, but today I don’t feel like singing. I can’t remember another time when this was true.
As I come to the crossroads, I stop long enough to grab my school books and the lunch Granny packed for me that morning from behind the boulder. I take a bite out of the apple from my lunch and glance down the road that leads back to the Monroe place. I wonder if the woman, who could be my aunt, is still sitting in that dark cabin.
In the span of one day, I am in more trouble than I’ve ever been. I skipped school. I went to a stranger’s cabin without telling anybody where I was going, and I lied to Uncle Cecil. According to Daniel, the school called so Mama already knows about the skipping. Right now, I don’t even care if I have to do extra chores for an entire year. I deserve punishment.
Whenever I act like Mama, Granny likes to say that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Maybe getting in all this trouble is me being like my daddy. I toss what’s left of the apple as far as I can into the woods, wishing I’d never gone to Melody Monroe’s.
I need to ask Mama flat out: Is Johnny Monroe my daddy? And if he is, she needs to tell me her side of the story, like Great Aunt Sadie said.
When I get to the mill, it is late afternoon and Miss Blackstone’s car is parked out front. Uncle Daniel and Silas—who help out—are gone. Miss Blackstone was my elementary school teacher for years, since all of the grades are in one room. For as long as I can remember, she’s been Mama’s best friend. Like Pearl and me, they spend a lot of time together talking. It suddenly occurs to me that I haven’t given Pearl an answer about coming to supper. Crow is only home for two more days, and I almost forgot because of everything else that’s going on. But first, I need to deal with Mama.
Miss Blackstone’s Ford sedan is a newer model, black with white trim. Her family has enough money for newer cars. She wears store bought dresses and always buttons the top button of her blouses. She is tall and lean and doesn’t have much of a figure. Whenever I was bored at school, I would study her, like you study someone you admire. If becoming a world renowned singer doesn’t work out, I might teach school when I grow up. Miss Blackstone said I was smart enough.
Besides the older widows at church, Mama and Miss Blackstone are the only unmarried women in Katy’s Ridge. As far as I know, Miss Blackstone has never dated, and appears about as interested in the possibility as Mama.
I think of Melody Monroe. I didn’t see a ring on her hand, either, making her a maiden aunt if she’s anything at all.
Please, God, don’t let me be related to her, I say to myself.
With no saws running, the double doors in front are closed and the mill is quiet. I walk around to the side door, a short cut to Mama’s office. A small window is on the outside wall, about six feet from the ground. I want to see what kind of mood Mama is in before I talk to her, so I stand on a large log to see inside. A twinge of guilt causes me to pause, as I add spying to the list of bad things I’ve done today. If Johnny Monroe was kin, I’m collecting my inheritance awfully fast.
Through the window, I see Mama in her office talking to Miss Blackstone. They are both smiling, a good sign that this may be the time to talk. Mama is never this happy at home. I lean closer to hear, but their voices are muffled. Seeing them together invites a prickle of goosebumps onto my arms. It reminds me of the time I accidentally saw Granny stepping out of the bath tub. Seeing all that flesh that was usually hidden under a dress and apron was shocking to me. Her breasts sagged like flour sacks, and I remember the light brown V of hair between her legs.
Mama and Miss Blackstone are different together. Miss Blackstone, who was serious at school, is smiling, too, like there’s no place she’d rather be than talking to Mama. I think of my friendship with Pearl, and how we’re never this happy. Pearl irritates me when she goes on and on about boys, and she has the patience of a flea on a dog when it comes to listening to me. Pearl is probably looking for me right now. I remind myself I need to see Crow before he leaves, but I can’t pull myself away from watching Mama be so happy.
I feel like Pumpkin waiting at the door for scraps. But every time I start to step away from the window, I get pulled back to the scene. Their movements tell a story. They touch each other occasionally. A hand on an arm. A finger pointing that the other one grabs. It is Mama’s playfulness that surprises me most. Though I’ve known her playful, it’s mainly been with me, not other grownups.
If anything, Mama can be way too serious. Yet when she puts the worry down—like now—she looks like a totally different person. A beautiful person. I like that Miss Blackstone brings this out in her, and surprise myself with the wish that I could someday make her this happy, too. The closest I get is when I sing.
Captured by the scene, I forget why I’m here. As much as I know it isn’t respectful to spy on people, I can’t seem to walk away. Something is about to happen, and if I turn away I’ll miss it. The whole day has felt like this. I wonder again if this is the secret sense Mama’s talked about. My life feels like one of those radio series Granny loves to listen to. A mystery is about to be solved, and somehow Mama and Miss Blackstone are part of the mystery, too.
The desk is the biggest thing in the small room. A couple of wooden chairs sit along one wall. Chairs I used to build a fort when I was a little girl and spent time in Mama’s office. Now Mama and Miss Blackstone laugh, and I try to remember the last time I saw Miss Blackstone even chuckle. Maybe it was the time Crow stuck a piece of chalk up his nose and pretended it was an elephant tusk. Crow was four grades ahead of me and sat at the other end of the room, and was always trying to make us laugh.
Every now and again I realize how pretty Mama is. Not the way Aunt Jo is pretty, in that movie star way, but Mama has her own beauty that’s hard to describe. It’s like she fits perfectly in her skin, and possesses an ease I hope I have someday, instead of always feeling so awkward. It’s hard to see how I’m like her when I look in the mirror. For the first time I wonder if she’s been looking at me my e
ntire life and remembering someone as mean as a snake.
Mama would be upset if she knew I was spying on her. She’s cautioned me more than once that I might regret overhearing things. I imagine those regrets go for seeing things, too.
Mama moves closer to Miss Blackstone, her hand touching her arm. For a long time, they just look at each other, and then Mama touches her face. Gripping the window ledge, I lean closer to the glass to make sure it’s not a distortion. Through the dirty panes, I see Mama lean forward and kiss Miss Blackstone on the lips. Not a quick peck between friends, but a kiss I imagined I’d have with Crow someday after we got married. I remember the romance novels I found hidden in the closet that belonged to Aunt Meg. Books I sneaked and read on the flat boulder back behind the house. Books whose stories seem mild compared to what I’m seeing now.
My breath fogs up the window, and I lean back to erase my presence. In my awkwardness, I jerk back and lose my footing, unable to right myself. When I fall, I knock over a wheelbarrow nearby that clunks to the ground. I land on sawdust so I’m not hurt, but I’m certain I’ve been heard.
Within seconds, the door opens and Mama looks down at me, her face as red as mine feels.
Mama’s expression spells out bad news like a headline on the Rocky Bluff newspaper. Miss Blackstone stands behind Mama, almost a head taller. Their kiss replays in my mind. I didn’t know women kissed each other like that.
“Lily McAllister, how long have you been spying on us?” Mama says. Upon hearing my full name, I know I am in trouble with a capital T.
“Not long,” I say, but the truth is, I’ve been standing there long enough for my whole life to change. From now on, I will always look at the two of them differently.
Brushing sawdust from my clothes, I get to my feet. For the second time that day I get the urge to run. This time I do.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wildflower
Lily takes off running, and I know better than to take off after her. She can easily outrun her boy cousins, as well as me.
“Oh my God, what have we done?” I say to Bee.
Bee covers her mouth, as though to keep herself from screaming.
I pick up the wheelbarrow, giving it a kick as I do.
“Should I go after her? Should I try to explain?” I ask.
Bee sends a frantic look in my direction. “I don’t know what we should do,” she says.
We exchange desperate looks.
“I was afraid this would happen,” I say to her. “I was afraid someone might see us. But I didn’t think anyone would be around.”
“Let’s just stay calm,” Bee says. She rests a hand on her neck like she does when she’s thinking and stares at the floor. “Do you think Lily will tell anybody?” She looks at me.
“I don’t think so, but how would I know? This has never happened before.”
We go back to my office. I sit at Daddy’s desk while Bee paces the room. I search for solutions written on the wooden floors.
“We’ve been so careful,” she says. “Spacing out our visits. Not spending too much time at either of our houses. Early curfews.”
“What if Lily never speaks to me again, Bee? What if she hates me now?” I bury my head in my hands.
“That doesn’t sound like Lily,” Bee says, her voice softer now.
“This is my fault,” I say, looking up at her. “I told Daniel to tell Lily to come by and see me. Then I forgot about it. When you’re around I forget about everything.” I glance at Bee and my face colors again.
“You’ll talk to her,” Bee says. “You’ll tell her how important it is that nobody know.”
People finding out is Bee’s biggest fear. Mine is having the people I love turn their back on me.
“We’re not criminals,” I say.
“It’s the mountain laws of Katy’s Ridge we’ve got to worry about,” she says. “The people here are frightened of anything they don’t understand. They surely won’t understand this.”
We pause in our panic. We are as far away from each other as we can get in the small room. Her at the window. Me now standing by the door. My face has not cooled down. I remember reading The Scarlet Letter and wonder what initial I will have to sew onto my clothes for this transgression. I walk over and sit at Daddy’s desk. It is the desk version of trying to fill someone’s shoes. It is too big for me. For the first time I’m glad he isn’t alive to see my possible downfall.
“What is wrong with us?” I say, the tears starting now. “Why can’t we be normal?”
“Hush, Wildflower,” she says, her voice softer still. She rarely calls me Wildflower anymore, and I am surprised by how much comfort the name offers.
We’ve had this conversation many times before. I’ve spent hours wishing I was different. Wishing I didn’t love Bee the way I do. I’ve fallen to my knees many times, not a soul to comfort me, except for the woman I can’t help loving. Somehow, I don’t think Daddy would condemn me. He would love me regardless. It would never occur to him not to. Though I doubt Mama would ever understand. This is the kind of thing that might finally break us apart forever. As for Aunt Sadie, I feel safe from judgment, but she may feel hurt that she didn’t know. I haven’t had the courage to speak to her about it. Not yet.
When it occurs to me how many people could be hurt, I lower my head and a tear drops into my lap. “Maybe we should end this, Bee. End it before anybody else finds out.”
She stops her pacing and walks over to the desk. “Is that what you want to do?” she asks.
When I finally look up, tears glisten in her brown eyes. “No,” I say, even though I’m not so sure. “All I know is I can’t bring any more shame to my family, Bee. Remember Lily’s birth? The whispers in church?”
“That was Johnny’s shame, not yours,” she says, her voice raised. “You fought back as hard as you could and you still nearly died.”
Bee can get like this. Protective. Supportive. Refusing to let ignorance win. Even my own. “I haven’t forgotten,” she begins again. “I came to see you after it happened. Remember? He beat you up so badly you couldn’t move. You have not brought shame on your family, Wildflower McAllister. You have not!”
She takes my chin and raises it so our eyes meet. Her bottom lip quivers and a tear slides down her cheek. I look away. It feels unbearable to see her in pain, a mirror of my own.
“As for us, we try to be honorable people,” she continues, her knuckles rapping on the desk. “We go out of our way to be helpful. We love our families—”
Bee’s tears flow now. I hand her one of Daddy’s handkerchiefs from my pocket. To see someone experiencing so much sorrow feels almost unbearable to me. She blows her nose and wipes the tears away, but they keep coming. I can’t help but think that I’m the cause of her unhappiness. I apologize and she tells me to stop. Then I hold her, feeling her body quake, until her tears finally stop. It doesn’t seem fair that so much pain could come from loving another person. But it does.
Minutes later, I remember the look in Lily’s eyes. She is hurting now, too. The hurt of not understanding what she saw. Shame threatens to overpower me again. I push it away. Life can be such a mess sometimes. Daddy always said that people will do the right thing if challenged, that goodness will win out. But I’m not so sure I believe that anymore. From my experience, people choose meanness at about the same rate as they choose goodness. It’s the conflicts in life that test us to see which side we’ll choose.
“What do we do now?” Bee asks, pulling me from my thoughts. She looks beaten and afraid.
“First, I need to find Lily and talk to her,” I say.
“What will you tell her?” Bee asks.
“I’m not sure.” I grab the keys to my truck off the desk and kiss Bee lightly on the lips, glancing up at the window where Lily watched us. I’m surprised I didn’t see her.
“Let me know what happens,” she says.
“I will if I can,” I say. “But I may not come back here today.” The only place
I can use the telephone to call Bee is from the sawmill. It’s too big a risk to call her from one of my sisters’ houses. I wonder if Mama will ever give in to having a telephone installed at the house. She was slow to see the benefits of indoor plumbing. It was Daddy who could talk her into the 20th century. But I have much bigger problems at this moment than telephones.
“Were you serious about breaking up with me?” Bee’s eyes are rimmed with red.
“I didn’t mean it,” I say. “It was just a reaction to the day. It’s just sometimes I think it would be easier.”
She turns away, and I apologize again. However, if it came to having to choose whether to have Lily in my life or Bee, chances are Bee wouldn’t like my answer.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lily
I can’t remember the last time I ran like this. Away from the one person I thought I could count on. A part of me wants to run all the way to Rocky Bluff and then to the first city I can find. Chattanooga or Nashville or maybe even Knoxville. Then I will finally be rid of Katy’s Ridge forever. What I didn’t anticipate is that I want to rid myself of Mama, too.
Is Mama in love with Miss Blackstone? I ask myself.
The thought tastes bitter in my mouth, like the goldenseal or dandelion that Great Aunt Sadie uses in her strong tonics when one of us is sick.
My hair flies wherever it wants to go. I wish I had on my old shoes instead of the new ones that aren’t fully broken in. They would be easier to run in. But these will do. I slow down long enough to take the dirt road to Pearl’s house. I have so much to tell her. Too much. But I can’t tell her about Mama. I can’t run the risk of everybody in Katy’s Ridge finding out. But I can tell her what I found out from Melody Monroe. Although that feels like old news now. News I found out a hundred years ago instead of this morning.
Shame pumps through me as I run. Followed by hatred. I have never hated Mama before, not for one second. But I do now. I hate her for not telling me about Johnny Monroe. I hate her for kissing Miss Blackstone. I hate her for not being like everybody else.
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