by Irene Brand
After a few moments that seemed like an hour to Julia, Millard spoke to Hattie. “What do you think, Ma?”
“Hit’s all right with me,” Hattie said. “I can handle the work at home.”
“Granny?” Millard asked, and Julia decided that he wasn’t the dictator he seemed to be.
“Hit’ll be a good chance for Nellie to make some money. Besides, Julia needs help.” Turning to Julia, she continued, “Hattie has taught Nellie how to cook, keep house, and take care of young’uns. You couldn’t find nobody else who would do a better job.”
Nellie’s blue eyes beamed toward her grandmother with gratitude.
“Will ten dollars a week be enough for her wages?” Julia asked.
“That’s more’n what people are paid for housework,” Millard said.
“Since Nellie will be watching Bobby as well as cooking and cleaning, I thought it was fair.”
“Then it’s okay, Pa?” Nellie seemed to be holding her breath.
Millard inclined his head in agreement. “When do you want her to start?”
“If it’s convenient, she can start right away. It looks as if Bobby and I can stay in our home tomorrow night. Tom says the Johnson car is ready, so I’ll go to Booneville the next day to buy a typewriter and a few other things. Nellie can go with me and watch Bobby while I shop.”
“You drive a car?” Millard asked, disbelief in his eyes.
“Yes, sir. I started driving my father’s car when I was eighteen.”
Millard shook his head, and Julia wondered if he thought she would be a bad influence on Nellie.
“I’d like to go to Booneville with her, Pa.”
Eyeing Julia skeptically, he said, “I hope you’re a careful driver.”
“No accidents to my record,” Julia said, “and I drove an army vehicle in France.”
Julia was aware that David stifled a laugh when Millard stared at her and shook his head in disbelief.
Not long after they left Mistletoe two days later, Julia decided that driving a vehicle over Kentucky roads wasn’t unlike driving on some of the roads she’d navigated in France and Germany. She stared straight ahead in order to dodge the potholes and to steer a straight course through the creek crossings. She was thankful that Millard had allowed Nellie to come with her, for the girl kept Bobby occupied, allowing Julia to concentrate on driving a strange vehicle.
“I sure am glad you offered me a job,” Nellie said. “I want to earn all the money I can. I think I’ll be admitted to Berea College next year, and I’ll need money for new clothes and other extras. A college degree is my one-way ticket out of Mistletoe.”
Julia smothered a smile. “You don’t intend to come back here after you finish college?”
“Come back to what?” Nellie asked, seemingly surprised at the question. “There’s nothin’ to do here. I can’t figure David out. With his brains and his war experiences, he could have found a good job anywhere. But what does he do? Builds a log cabin and intends to spend the rest of his life in Owsley County. Not me!”
“David has a dream that the neighborhood will develop into a place where people will want to live.”
Nellie flipped her long honey-blond hair over her shoulder. “Well, good luck to him, but it’s not for me. Livin’ here reminds me of things I want to forget.”
Julia considered this a strange comment from a girl as young as Nellie, but an indefinable expression of withdrawal spread across the girl’s face. Julia didn’t question her further.
“Just between the two of us,” Julia commented, “one of the main problems I have with this community is how women are treated as second-class citizens.”
Nodding her head like a sage, Nellie agreed. “That’s caused a lot of family trouble too. Women worked in plants during the war and earned the livin’ while men were in the army. Some of the men came home expectin’ their women to knuckle under like they always had, and that hasn’t happened. When one of the local women left her husband and sued for divorce, I thought she’d be tarred and feathered.” Laughing, Nellie shifted Bobby on her lap and continued. “Women like Ma and Granny don’t have trouble with it. They let the men think they’re the boss, but they do what they want to.”
Considering this a subject she shouldn’t pursue, Julia called attention to the clumps of mistletoe in many of the trees they passed. She told Nellie about her first experience with mistletoe and how she’d been intrigued by the plant since that time.
Nellie shrugged her shoulders. “People around here don’t think much of it. It’s a parasite that sometimes kills the trees it latches on to.”
“Money can be made from the sale of mistletoe, though. My aunt, who runs a gift shop in Maryland, always orders a supply of mistletoe for Christmas. Let’s stop so I can take a closer look.”
While they kept watch over Bobby, who contented himself by picking up rocks from the road and tossing them toward the creek, Nellie pointed upward. “There’s a big clump in that tall oak tree. You can’t tell from here, but the leaves are grouped in horseshoe pairs. Soon they’ll have little white berries. I’ve heard that the berries are poisonous.”
“Yes, I think they are,” Julia agreed.
“Wonder why people started kissing under mistletoe?” Nellie asked.
“I’ve read several explanations, but the first records of kissing under the mistletoe were in Celtic rituals and Norse mythology. Does anybody here sell mistletoe?”
Nellie shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
“That might be a good way for you to make money for college. The plants could be harvested the first of December and shipped to eastern cities. But how could it be removed from these tall trees?”
“When visitors want to take some mistletoe home as a souvenir,” Nellie said, “the men shoot it out of the trees.”
It was Julia’s opinion that a fall from the top of a tree would damage the plant and the berries, but she couldn’t think of any easier way to harvest the plant.
“If you’re interested, I’ll contact my aunt Sarah and ask if she would let you send some mistletoe balls to sell in her gift shop. I’ll help you make them.”
Nellie didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about the idea, but she agreed to Julia’s suggestion to try and find a lucrative use for the local mistletoe. “Hundreds of people send their Christmas cards to Mistletoe to have them postmarked,” she said.
“That’s a great idea. I’ll contact my relatives in Maryland and ask them to send their cards. It sounds like fun.”
“It’s hard work, not fun! I’ve helped the postmaster put on the special postmark, which has two young people kissing under the mistletoe. Every letter has to be stamped by hand, and it’s slow going. If you’re still here at Christmastime, maybe you can help us. It’s interesting to see the different names and where the cards are sent.”
Chapter Twelve
The next two months passed quickly for Julia as she settled into her log-cabin existence. After the tense years in the WAC, it was wonderful to work in her quiet upstairs office until mid-afternoon. Sometimes she walked through the woods behind the house, marveling each day at the slight change in the foliage as the trees slowly put on their colorful autumn coats. Nellie was excellent help. She not only had good rapport with Bobby, but she cleaned the house and prepared an evening meal before she returned to her home.
Bobby seemed content in their new quarters, but the stairs fascinated him. If Nellie wasn’t watching him every minute, he’d crawl to the top step and then throw a tantrum until someone helped him down. This was a nuisance to Julia when she was trying to concentrate on her writing.
When she complained to David about it, however, he said, “I’ll take care of that.” The next evening he brought a gate and installed it at the foot of the stairs. Julia could easily unlatch the gate when she went up or down the steps, but Bobby couldn’t reach the latch on the inside of the gate.
She always took afternoons off to help when the local women gathered to make Chr
istmas items for the old folks’ homes. She learned how to make comforters by placing a wool lining and a top layer of quilted blocks together and tying knots with colorful yarn to bind them together. In this close fellowship, she began to feel accepted by the Mistletoe community.
Julia’s parents were still in Missouri, and they had never apologized for shifting their responsibility to her. Although Julia was irritated about this, she didn’t resent Bobby. She devoted her evenings to him, and their relationship gradually cemented. They felt comfortable with each other. When the weather was pleasant, she’d sit on the porch while Bobby played contentedly in the yard. Both David and Nellie were convinced that Mrs. Walden often stood in the nearby trees and watched the child at play.
Julia started watching. When she spotted Mrs. Walden one day, she called and invited her to come to the cabin. The woman didn’t answer, and when she knew she’d been detected, she skedaddled out of sight. As it became obvious that Mrs. Walden wouldn’t leave the woods, Julia pretended she didn’t see her and let the woman observe her grandson in her secretive way.
David attended the university the first two days of the week, but when he was at home, he spent each evening with her and Bobby, occasionally eating with them. Sometimes he carried Bobby to the crest of the mountain, where they had a bird’s-eye view of the creek valley. Julia had seen a lot of the world, but she’d never seen scenery more superb than sunset in the Appalachian Mountains.
Julia enjoyed a rapport with Nellie—the kind of relationship she wished she’d had with her own sister. As she became closer to Nellie, however, she sensed that the girl was unhappy. Although she was cheerful and bubbling with enthusiasm most of the time, there was a hidden side of her that Julia couldn’t reach. Occasionally Nellie would sit with hands folded, seemingly lost in memories. At those times, she seemed much more mature than a girl of her age should be.
One day a thought struck Julia. It seemed that most of the people she met in Mistletoe had a secret side to their lives. Even David. He had shared many stories about his boyhood in the hollow and some of his war experiences, but she sometimes detected an attitude of defeat and discouragement in his eyes. Having personal secrets of her own, Julia didn’t pry.
When he opened the lid on the mailbox, David didn’t have a care in the world. He’d enjoyed several enjoyable hours with Julia the night before and had dared to give her a brotherly kiss on the cheek before he went home. Their relationship was progressing beyond friendship, and he knew he had to tighten the reins soon. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of any way to have a future with this woman who was the epitome of all he wanted in a wife.
When he lifted the small packet of mail from the box and saw the envelope, reality hit like he’d been sucker punched. Why won’t the guy give up? What does he hope to gain by this continued harassment? David knew he should destroy the message without opening it, but morbid curiosity willed otherwise. He thrust the envelope into his pocket and walked up the hollow. He waved at Nellie, who was playing tag with Bobby, and hurried up the steps into his home. His legs felt like cooked spaghetti, and he slumped in the upholstered chair in front of the fireplace. The envelope bore no return address, but he knew who it was from.
David broke the seal on the envelope, but still he hesitated. A cold knot formed in his stomach, and he drew a deep breath and removed a single sheet of paper. He looked at a crude drawing of a veterans’ cemetery with two tombstones prominently displayed in the foreground.
The stone on the right bore the name, ADRIAN TOLLIVER—1944.
The other stone was inscribed, DAVID ARMSTRONG—DATE TO BE DETERMINED.
He had received four similar messages in the past year, but there was a significant difference in this one. At the bottom of this paper was an additional message. “Prepare to meet God—SOON!”
David had never doubted his bravery until he started receiving these messages. How could he fight an unseen enemy? Instead of destroying this letter as he had the others, he put it in the Bible he kept locked in the small safe that contained the things he valued most. Only Granny had the safe’s combination. If he was killed, at least the authorities would have some clue to his murderer.
David had nightmares about the tragedy that prompted these letters, but he seldom recalled the situation during daylight hours. As he slumped in his chair, however, he recollected vividly the night when he was in an airplane with several other paratroopers crossing the English Channel. He had been scared, dreading what would happen when they were dropped behind enemy lines. The soldiers had been well aware that their chances of surviving this mission were doubtful. All of them had been frightened, but none as obviously as the paratrooper beside him who was visibly shaking.
“Brace up, Tolliver,” David had told the young soldier. “You’ve trained for this. It’s the waiting that’s the worst. As soon as we land and start doing our job, you’ll be fine.”
“But what if I mess up?” Adrian Tolliver had replied. “I’ve got a little brother at home, and I’m his hero.” A touch of humor lightened his words. “He thinks I’m winning the war all by myself. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
The command “Prepare for landing” sounded from the cockpit, and David gripped Tolliver’s shoulder. “You won’t,” he encouraged.
The next time David saw Adrian Tolliver, the young soldier was lying at his feet and nearly dead. In the misty darkness before dawn, the American paratroopers had seen a man approaching them. They’d been taught to shoot first and then ask questions, and that’s exactly what they did. That morning, they fired dozens of shots at their comrade, mistaking him for an enemy soldier.
Adrian had been running away from the enemy rather than into Nazi-held territory as he was supposed to do. Considering the fear Adrian had exhibited prior to landing, it was generally believed by the officers who investigated his death that he had panicked in the face of danger. David had often thought about the little brother who considered Adrian a hero, and he prayed that the boy would never find out the truth.
When David’s squadron discovered Tolliver, he was still alive, and David lifted him in his arms. The young man soon died, but not before he muttered, “Armstrong—why? I thought you were my friend.”
David had been distressed, not only by Tolliver’s death, but because the young man died thinking David had killed him. He’d always considered Tolliver a friend, and he’d never forgotten the pain of that accusation.
Due to the many Allied casualties suffered during the D-Day advance, the nature of Tolliver’s death had never become common knowledge. David couldn’t imagine why the young man’s family was blaming him for the death. Or was Tolliver’s family even responsible for the threats? Perhaps another soldier who had been Tolliver’s friend was sending the messages.
Considering the tone of the letter received today, David had a feeling that before too many weeks, he would have an answer to all of these questions.
Julia knew that David, and not her writing assignment, was keeping her in Mistletoe. She had tried to convince herself that it was only friendship she felt for him, but she knew that her interest surpassed friendship. His nearness kindled feelings of expectation, and when he put his arm around her as they sat on the sofa each evening, she felt a sense of happiness she’d never known.
She often encountered inscrutable glances from his dark eyes when she turned quickly and caught him looking at her. Still, David hadn’t once given any verbal indication that he considered her more than a friend. That changed in mid-November when Julia received a letter from her mother. Puzzled that her parents had stayed in Missouri for so long, Julia had written asking the date for their return to Maryland. She was pleased at her mother’s quick response until she read the short note.
Dear Julia,
Hadn’t I told you? We’re going to California before we come back to Maryland. You’re getting along so well with Bobby. I’m sure you won’t mind taking care of him for another month or two? Grandmother’s hip is healed
now, and we thought this trip would be good for her. Since the Waldens won’t claim Bobby, no doubt you’ll be returning to Maryland soon. We’ll send future letters there.
Mother
Julia tore the letter to shreds, conscious of the inquisitive look that Nellie cast in her direction.
“What is it? Bad news?”
Julia clenched her fists and exerted all of her willpower to avoid being harsh with Nellie. “No one has died or is sick—nothing like that. I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about it. Please look after Bobby until I come back.”
Julia stuffed the letter fragments in her pocket and took a sweater off the hook by the door.
“Where are you going?” A frightened expression clouded Nellie’s blue eyes.
“For a walk. I don’t know when I’ll get back.”
“But Julia—”
“Don’t worry about me.” Julia forced a smile. “I just have to be alone for a few minutes.”
Chapter Thirteen
David was chopping wood in Granny’s barnyard when he saw Nellie running toward him. She was pulling a wagon with Bobby jolting up and down in the narrow bed, laughing as he enjoyed the fast ride. David anchored the axe in a chopping block and ran to meet her, his mind flooded with horrible scenarios of what might have happened to Julia. When Nellie saw him coming, she stopped and was still gasping for breath when he reached her.
“What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Julia got a letter, and while she was reading it, she got madder and madder. Her face went white at first and then turned red as fire. She tore up the letter and left. Said she needed to be alone. I’ve never seen Julia lose her temper. It was scary!”
“Where is she now?”
“I watched until I saw her climbing the mountain in back of your cabin. I didn’t know what to do.”
