There was a little bit of the old boot kicking at the dust and a little gazing up at the night sky but, for the most part, one was talking and the other was listening, intently. It ended with a long, agonizing stare-down, and then Murphy extended his hand as a gentleman’s agreement, and Hollis accepted. The two men walked side by side as they headed to the backyard in search of the lightning bug collectors. Both looked at Katherine, and she realized it was the first time she had seen Hollis genuinely smile. It became very clear where Savannah had inherited her lone dimple.
When they were finally alone and she was certain they were out of earshot, Katherine blurted, “Well, tell me, what was that all about?”
“Seems there’s been a bit of trouble he wanted us to know about ahead of time.”
“What kind of trouble could that sweet man have encountered?”
“He left behind a successful architectural career in Kentucky. His wife’s death, or maybe the circumstances of her death, nearly destroyed him. I don’t know a whole lot more than that. Maybe it was because of the ghosts in my own closet before you rescued me, but my gut tells me the accident was the beginning of one set of problems and the end of another. He’s intelligent, you can tell by his conversation. He was brought up right, you can tell by his manners. I can only imagine he must have been going through hell on earth if he left it all behind. It’s my hope the peace that surrounds us here will also envelop them.”
She slipped her hand in his. “Fresh starts are good.”
Lily Mae, Clarence, and Father Drew came for dinner the next evening. Katherine stood back and watched as Savannah ran to Lily Mae with open arms as if they’d been friends forever. Lily Mae nestled her into her bosom as they embraced, and Katherine stood and watched, knowing full well what that hug felt like to a little girl. It was clear; Lily Mae had a new little girl to love and guide along the way.
That evening at dinner, perched atop two Sears and Roebuck catalogs, Savannah grinned broadly and announced, “I know granddaddy long-leg spiders eat mosquitos and that’s a good thing. What do you know?” and she didn’t stop until each person had shared one solid fact.
“I know there’s no such thing as a grandmother long-leg spider, but I’m not sure why that is,” said Lily Mae, and they all laughed.
Next came Clarence’s turn to play the game. Chuckling, he said, “I know no matter how harmless they are or how old I get, I still shudder if someone throws one my way.” That brought a round of laughter at the thought of a man the size of a mountain jumping at the sight of a harmless spider.
Father Drew raised his glass and winked. “I guess there were two granddaddy long-leg spiders on Noah’s ark, but I have a feeling one surely must have been the female version, if there is such a thing!”
“I know only the female mosquito sucks blood,” said Hollis. Judging from the look on everyone’s faces, he had enlightened all of them with something new.
“I know a mosquito uses her saliva to coat our skin when she bites us, the nasty little blood-sucker!” said Murphy.
And when it was Katherine’s turn, she offered, “I know this is going to be a daily dinner table routine, so my advice to each of us is to always be prepared.”
Soon after dinner Lily Mae announced she needed to get back home. “Still have some studying of the Word to do before church in the morning.”
Savannah protested, “But I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with us. You can sleep in my bed, I promise I won’t take up too much room. Please?”
“Child, you’re making that sound hard to decline, but I’ve got my own house and my own bed.” Aiming her head toward Katherine, she asked Savannah, “Did you know Katherine used to sleep in my bed at my house when she was just a little bit older than you are now?”
“She did?” Savannah was mystified.
“I sure did, and I loved it, too. Lily Mae used to wrap her arms around me and hold me tight and sing me to sleep. I can still hear her voice when I close my eyes at night.”
Savannah nestled next to Lily Mae and whispered something into her ear. Lily Mae pressed her forehead against hers and softly responded, “Because her mamma was gone during those days when she used to sleep in my bed.”
Savannah quietly said to no one in particular, “Just like mine,” and a thick frozen stillness suffocated the room until Lily Mae broke the hurt that surrounded all of them.
“You wait till you get a little bigger and then you can come spend the night at Lily Mae’s house, and we’ll do all the things I used to do with Katherine when she was my sweet little gal.”
“You promise?”
Holding her right-hand high in the air, Lily Mae said, “I do promise that to you, sweet girl. And I keep my promises.” Lily Mae then looked at Katherine and they both knew she was reliving a memory of another little girl from long ago.
Katherine put her arms around both of them and announced, “You girls aren’t going to do any such thing without me, so you better make room since I’m Lily Mae’s first girl!”
Savannah squealed with delight, hopping from one foot to the other. “When, when, when? Can I Daddy? Please?”
“I’m sure you can, one day, but not tonight.” He looked at Lily Mae and said, “You’re very kind. I can tell you have quite a history with Katherine. The happenstance of meeting you overcomes me. I don’t know what else to say.”
A look of wonder spread across Lily Mae’s face. “That was no happenstance, son. You write this down. That was a day, an hour, a minute, and a second that was meant to be. That plan was made by God Almighty before you even pulled off the highway. Nestle that in your heart and keep it there. You’ll see. Won’t he?” She looked at Katherine and Murphy for affirmation.
With complete authority, Murphy told Hollis, “As certain as the sun rises and sets and the earth revolves around the sun, that woman speaks the truth. That’s the only way she knows how to live.”
The next day Murphy came home with an invoice for a new set of World Book Encyclopedias, and he and Hollis began work on a built-in bookcase for the nook in the Butler’s pantry right off the kitchen. A handy location for a set of books that would be referenced often during their nightly “I know/what do you know?” discussions around the dinner table.
It wasn’t long before Murphy and Savannah began filling up the bottom shelves of the bookcase with loot from their daily walks—a discarded bird’s nest, the fossil of an ancient snail, an entirely intact butterfly—treasures of the land that enticed them both.
Katherine and Murphy noticed there were a few things banished from the caretaker’s cottage, by Hollis’ choice. The absence was glaring. No television, no photos of Savannah’s prior life, and no alcoholic beverages. Katherine would one day be glad she didn’t know any of the details of Savannah’s mother’s death so she could honestly plead ignorance when pressed for details.
Life on the farm was healthy for all of them. Hollis prospered from hard work and the endless supply of things to accomplish, and Savannah flourished with the unending devotion of Murphy, Katherine, and Lily Mae. Her insatiable curiosity meant she spent her waking moments discovering all that was around her.
As she grew, Hollis established physical boundaries for Savannah. Facing east, she was not allowed to venture past the barn, and facing west, she was not permitted to go past the garden. The flagpole near the pond’s edge was her northern boundary, and her southern border was the old concrete bench under one of the live oaks.
Savannah shared the news of the boundaries with Lily Mae, anxious to know what Lily Mae thought.
“I like those boundaries, Savannah. They give you a freedom to explore but at the same time they give you a sense of limits. Folks who follow life’s boundaries are often the ones who enjoy it the most.”
“But what about people who don’t stay in their boundaries. What happens to them?”
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�Oh, they’re either risk-takers or rule-breakers or sometimes both. Some turn out successful. Some don’t. It all seems to boil down to how much they value the rules of life.”
“Don’t worry about me, Lily Mae. I’m going to stay in those boundaries. I’m good about following the rules.”
Lily Mae looked at the others gathered in the room. She had wisdom she was bursting to share. “Our girl’s got a gypsy soul. Boundaries or no boundaries, the gypsy is deep within her. You watch and see.”
They exchanged glances, each wondering if that prophecy would end up as a blessing or a curse, knowing only time would tell.
Several things changed around the farm after Savannah’s arrival. It just seemed right to add a swing under one of the giant oaks and, of course, a child’s size table with four chairs and pink dishes for tea parties on the porch.
That was just the start of new things. Lily Mae constantly sewed, always replicating Savannah’s new outfits with identical ones for her dolls. Next came bikes in several stages, an ant farm, a microscope, and a set of walkie-talkies that mainly just squeaked and squawked, but Savannah loved them, so the noise didn’t seem to bother anyone.
Her inquisitive mind never rested. If Hollis didn’t know the answer, she had three other adults standing in the wings, hoping to help her solve all the mysteries around her.
A tree house was erected in one of the pecan trees which included a rope ladder, a trap door, and a bucket with a pulley that stretched from the tree house to the kitchen window. Many an evening Katherine or Lily Mae put homemade cookies or frosted brownies in the bucket and whisked them to the two occupants in the tree house, never knowing for sure who loved them more, Savannah or Murphy.
Only once did Hollis talk with Murphy and Katherine about their roles in Savannah’s life and the absence of her mother. They had been living in the caretaker’s cottage for over three years. He started with hesitation in his voice, knowing it would be difficult to genuinely express all he felt.
“I arrived here a broken man hoping to find work. I never dreamt I would find the healing you’ve provided. Savannah’s life changed drastically when her mother made a desperate split-second decision, and then her life changed again when her father made his own split-second, poignant decision to turn down this long driveway and knock on your door.” Hollis studied their faces intently, hoping they would hear the sincerity in his words, “You took us in, you gave me work, and you slowly breathed life back into us. I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to come back up for air. I sometimes sit and watch Savannah sleeping, and I now realize she could have lost both her parents before she ever celebrated her fifth birthday. This house, this job, this land, and your nourishment saved my life, and I will forever remember what it felt like for me to find peace again. You gave us a place to plant our feet, and you gave us roots so we could find our strength. I don’t speak of Savannah’s mother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss her every day.” He paused, trying to swallow the lump that seemed to be growing at an alarming speed. “I know you’re not Savannah’s grandparents, and I’ll never ask you to assume that role. You’ve provided her with so many miraculous things, but I wonder if you are aware of the most incredible of all your gifts.”
Murphy and Katherine exchanged looks, neither knowing what to expect.
Hollis explained, “You model for her what true love looks like between a husband and a wife. She watches you and absorbs everything you do for each other. The respect you have for each other is like a mist from a spring shower, the kind of rain you stand in so your skin can soak it up. Savannah knows firsthand what love looks and feels like between a husband and wife, thanks to you.”
There was much Murphy wanted Hollis to understand. “We never want to step out of bounds, and we expect you to tell us if we ever do. What you have to realize is you’ve added life to our years by allowing us to be a part of yours and Savannah’s.”
They reminisced about the day they first met and what a pivotal day that was in all their lives. Katherine couldn’t resist asking something she and Murphy had always wondered.
“Hollis, we’ve never seen a picture of Savannah’s mother. I’m sure you have a good reason for that. If you don’t mind me asking, does Savannah look anything like her mother?”
Hollis pursed his lips, pausing, thinking how to best answer. They could tell by the longing in his eyes he intended to answer. “You’ve never seen a photograph of her because it was excruciating to look at her picture when we first arrived. But now, we take her picture out of my dresser on the second day of October, the day of her birth, and study her face, and then we return it to the drawer. Even after three years it rips my heart open to hold a photo of her face in my hands, knowing I’ll never touch her again. But in a sense, you have seen a copy of her face. Savannah looks more like her mother every single day. Her hair, her eyes, her little nose, her intelligence, her curiosity. It’s as though her mother lives on.” And then painfully, he added, “We celebrate the date of her birth. I have never told Savannah the date of her death. I hope she’ll never inquire.”
Murphy sucked in a hint of breath, ready to ask his reasoning, but changed his mind. Later, in private, he and Katherine thought of an endless list of possible reasons why Hollis would keep that information from his daughter, but neither of them could conjure any reasonable answer.
As Savannah grew and matured, her interests matured also, and her boundaries all but vanished. The walkie-talkies were replaced with a 35mm camera and eventually her own dark room for developing innumerable rolls of black and white or Kodachrome film. Sometime during her sixteenth year, the boathouse acquired a new canoe, one she could maneuver single-handedly as competently as any grown man.
While the rest of the country seemed to depend on television to help raise the younger generation, Hollis and Savannah spent their evenings immersed in books and music. Big books, little books, comic books, poetry collections, encyclopedias, anything in print. Over time came the diaries and journals that Savannah meticulously wrote in each and every night.
Dear Diary,
Today is really a lucky day. It’s my 6th birthday and can you guess how many turtle eggs I found today? Hint, Daddy guessed 12 and his guess was too high and Lily Mae guessed 10 and it was too low. Think you know? Another word for a guess is an estimate. It’s called a synonym.
Dear Diary,
Today is the first day of second grade; Daddy says my teacher will be surprised I already know how to use a dictionary. What will I do if we don’t have one in our classroom? *
Signed,
Savannah the Second Grader
* I hope we have a nice thick dictionary in our classroom, not the skinny kind for grade school kids.
And over time the diaries were replaced with journals. Her curiosity was documented in a thousand different ways.
Sunday, the last day of winter
I’ve been told on many occasions that I’m very observant and I can tell they mean that as a compliment. When people refer to my dad, they call him Hollis. I’m the only one who calls him Daddy and it sounds childish. I sometimes shout HOLLIS in a very loud voice if I need to get his attention. Believe me, that works. I think I’m going to ask him if I can call him Hollis just like everyone else.
Postscript: I asked, and he said I could make my own decision about that. From now on that’s what I am going to call him.
The twenty-third day of the Moon of Popping Trees
Murphy told me the Lakota Indians had different names for different seasons. Some names were about the people and some were about animals. I think my favorite is February because they called it the Moon of Popping Trees. It isn’t hard for me to imagine how the ice and snow on the tree branches made them pop and break. That’s the same sound we hear each winter when the snow and ice weigh down all the beechwood limbs. A beechwood tree can live 300 years. Think what these trees all around me have
seen and heard. Murphy said I need to listen because they have a lot to tell.
Thursday, the fifteenth day of August
I’ve spent most of my entire day reading everything I can find written by or about Marguerite Higgins, the first female Pulitzer Prize winner for International Reporting. She worked for the Associated Press across the world. Hollis provided me a lengthy explanation on what that means for a journalist. I’m trying to imagine what it must have been like for her the very first time she saw her byline proceeded by AP? What a glorious moment it must have been. I think we march to the beat of the same drum.
Sunday, June 17
I have a hunger to be able to go back in time and record all the thousands of stories Lily Mae has shared with me in my lifetime. I’ve always been spellbound listening to her stories—and the ones that rock me to my core are the ones she tells from a time long ago, the ones she begins with “after freedom came to my people.” Her stories are not in any of the history books I’ve ever been handed in a classroom. Times were hard before the end of the civil war, and they were awful for a long time afterward. Some of her folks barely survived. They were hungry and cold, and the only thing they had was hope. I asked her how long it took for her family to forgive the sin of slavery. Her answer was simple. “We aren’t responsible for the sins of others, only our own. The good Lord loves us all too much to make us accountable for those things in which we had no say.” I hope I’ll always remember that. Her words are strong and good and wise. I want them to be long-lasting.
It wasn’t just the replacement of journals over diaries that made it clear to the rest of them she was growing up. Over the years, their daily “I know/what do you know?” routine morphed into lively philosophical, political, and analytical discussions, and it was very clear to all of them how brilliant she had become.
During her sophomore year of high school, she decided to pursue a vocation that would allow her to travel the world. One Thursday evening after dinner, Savannah shared some important news. “I don’t think I was meant to settle down. I will one day, I’m sure, but there’s so much I want to see. I hope I’m not disappointing any of you when I say I’m eager to leave here. Not leave you, of course. But I want to see the places we’ve talked about, I want to follow the maps we’ve studied in our encyclopedias, I want to fill up a passport with stamps from around the world. My wanderlust came from you and all the things we’ve talked about around this very table all these years. You planted the seed, and now I want to water it and watch it grow. Can you blame me for wanting to see this great big world of ours?”
Letters on the Table Page 12
