Whistler's Hollow

by Debbie Dadey

  “A cotillion?” I asked.

  “That’s just the name for a fancy party for young girls,” Aunt Esther explained. “My parents had a lot of money in those days. Our house at White Oaks was decorated with magnolia blossoms, and our cooks prepared enough food to feed an army. It was quite an affair.” Aunt Esther had a faraway look on her face.

  “It’s a very pretty dress,” I told her truthfully. “I’ve never seen one nicer.”

  Aunt Esther smiled and handed me the dress. “I can’t believe it’s in such good shape. I guess the mothballs helped. Try it on. We can wash the smell out later.”

  The dress did have a mothball smell, but another smell too. It was the rotten smell I’d smelled last night. I gulped, slipped out of my tight faded dress, and shyly stood in front of Aunt Esther with my petticoat. Aunt Esther didn’t even seem to notice how old and stained it was, she just eased the cool fabric of the dress over my head, buttoned me up, and spun me around. “You look like an angel.”

  I felt like an angel too. I wished Mama or Daddy could have seen me. I hung my head down, but Aunt Esther didn’t give me time to feel sad. “Lookie here,” she said, pulling out a pair of white slippers that were sparkled with gold. “It’s hard to believe my feet used to be so small. Try these on too.”

  They didn’t fit. Aunt Esther had me pull off my heavy blue socks and then the shoes glided right on my bare feet as if they’d been made for me. Aunt Esther sat down on the settee and looked me over. “I don’t think that’s a proper school dress though. Let’s see what else we can find. We can save that one for Christmas.”

  Christmas! I stared at the dress in the looking glass. I wouldn’t still be here at Christmas. Daddy wouldn’t let me be alone for Christmas. I knew he’d be here before then. Maybe Aunt Esther would give me the dress to take with me.

  We found two dresses that were a bit too big that would work fine for school. “I’ll take these in tonight and you’ll be all set for tomorrow,” Aunt Esther said.

  “Thank you,” I said softly, picking up Daddy’s picture and holding it to my chest. Aunt Esther was being awfully kind. I felt guilty, but all I wanted was for Daddy to come so I could go home. The last thing I wanted was to go to school tomorrow. I knew Paul would be waiting for me.

  6

  School

  I had loved recess at my old school. Melissa K. Reynolds and I had jumped rope, sung songs, and talked. But recess at my new school was something different. I stood against the side of the building in the shadows and watched. I watched a group of girls jumping rope. I watched another group laughing, talking, and even singing. I watched a huge group of boys playing kick ball. Paul was one of them. Once he kicked the ball right beside my head. Slam! It hit with so much force, I was sure our teacher would come running. Paul laughed and raced away with the ball.

  I stood and watched for a long time. Finally I got up my courage and walked over to a group of girls. “Hello, I’m Lillie Mae. Can I play?” I asked.

  A large girl with black hair looked me up and down. I knew her name to be Judy. I was grateful I had on my newly made-over dress. “We,” Judy said, nodding to the girls around her, “don’t like people who get Paul in trouble.”

  “But, I didn’t…” I started to argue. Judy didn’t give me a chance. She turned her back to me and laughed with her group. I walked back over to the wall, but after that I didn’t talk to the other groups.

  I didn’t go home for lunch either. I didn’t want Paul to knock me in the head with a rock. Aunt Esther had given me some cold biscuits and an apple in an old lunch pail. After everyone had left, there was one girl still sitting under a big tree. She was Alberta, a girl who never spoke much in class unless Mr. Price, our teacher, called on her. I thought about sitting beside her, but I still smarted from the way Judy had talked to me. I went around the corner of the building to hide from Paul, and sat in the dirt. The dry biscuits stuck in my throat and I felt as sorry for myself as I possibly could.

  A big black bird landed not too far away. “I remember you from the train station,” I said. Then I looked around to make sure no one heard me talking to the bird. They’d probably put me in a hospital.

  The bird looked at me and I looked at the bird. It was shiny black, almost blue. It didn’t seem one bit scared of me. “How about some biscuit crumbs?” I whispered, tossing some toward the bird.

  The bird picked at the crumbs. It stared at me a minute before flying away. “Don’t go,” I called. I didn’t want to be alone.

  Every day for the next few weeks I sat in the same spot for lunch and every day the crow came back. I was so grateful not to be alone that I shared my biscuits with it. One day the bird ate right out of my hand. I wished I could hold it, but some things you can’t hold on to. So I just watched it eat out of my hand.

  “Lordy, look at that bird,” a girl whispered from the corner of the building. It was Alberta.

  I jumped when Alberta spoke, and the bird flew away. “No, don’t go,” I called, but it was too late. The bird was gone. I had the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be back.

  I glared at Alberta. “Why did you have to scare her away?” I yelled.

  “Her?” she whispered. I just glared. I don’t know why I thought the bird was a she. Somehow I just knew she was a girl. I also knew I was mad at Alberta for scaring the bird.

  Alberta looked close to tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before ducking back around the corner.

  “No, wait,” I said. Now I felt bad for hurting Alberta’s feelings. Here she was the only one at school who’d bothered to try to be nice to me and I’d hollered at her. I slapped the dust off the back of my dress, collected my lunch pail, and followed her.

  Alberta sat under the tree with her thin back to me. She was putting a napkin back into her lunch pail. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” I said softly.

  Alberta didn’t answer, so I tried again. “Why do you eat lunch here every day?” I asked, sitting beside her on the grass.

  She looked at me with eyes so gray, they looked like smoke. Her straw-blonde hair and freckles didn’t seem to match her serious eyes. “I live too far out to go home for lunch,” she said softly. “What about you?”

  I shrugged and told the truth. “I’m afraid Paul will throw rocks at me again.” I knew I sounded like a big baby. I lowered my head, ashamed.

  “Why does Paul hate you so much?” she asked.

  I shook my head, glad to be able to talk to someone about it. I hadn’t wanted to upset Aunt Esther, and I was embarrassed to tell Uncle Dallas. “I don’t know, but he seems nice to everyone else.”

  “He is,” Alberta said, glancing down at her rough hands, “except that he warned everyone to stay away from you or…”

  “Or what?” I asked.

  “Or they’d be sorry,” she whispered. Together we both looked down the road to make sure no one saw us together. No one was coming.

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I told her.

  Alberta smiled, showing two crooked front teeth. “We could talk and play while everyone is gone. Paul wouldn’t find out.”

  I smiled back, so grateful that the bird had brought me and Alberta together.

  7

  Music

  “Play my favorite. It’s been way too long,” Aunt Esther told Uncle Dallas that evening. Uncle Dallas had killed a chicken and we’d fried it up in honor of my being with them a month. That meant it was a little over four weeks since Mama had died. Now we sat in the parlor, in what Aunt Esther called the “good room.”

  Uncle Dallas gave me a wink and put a polished fiddle under his chin. It was the first time I’d heard him play, although I’d seen him carrying the case every day He filled the parlor with a sound like nothing I’d ever heard before. The sweetness rang in the air like angels in heaven. I stared at Uncle Dallas as he played the hymn “Amazing Grace.” The organist at my old church had sounded nothing like that.

  “Sing it with me, Esther,” Uncle Da
llas said. Together they sang. I’d like to say it was beautiful, but it wasn’t. Uncle Dallas’s voice was shaky, but not bad to listen to. It was Aunt Esther’s voice that sounded like a rusty tin can rattling around on the side of a gravel road. I’d never heard anyone sing so poorly.

  “Come on, honey,” Aunt Esther said. “Sing with us. You can’t be any worse than me.”

  I knew that to be true, so I joined in. “‘Through many dangers, toils, and snares I have already come.’” I winced a bit when Aunt Esther tried for the high note. “‘’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.’”

  I sang the rest of the song, wanting to cover my ears. When we finished, Aunt Esther looked at me and said, “Why don’t you pick one?”

  “How about ‘Old Dan Tucker’?” I asked, remembering the song that Daddy always whistled.

  Aunt Esther grabbed my hands and pulled. “Lillie Mae, let’s dance! Play for us, Dallas.”

  Uncle Dallas hesitated with his bow above the strings. “Maybe you shouldn’t dance, Esther. You need to take it easy.”

  “Pshaw. I’m feeling fine. Play, old man.” Uncle Dallas did play and Aunt Esther spun me around. We all sang, “ ‘Get out of the way, Old Dan Tucker. You’re too late to get your supper.’” We sang and danced and danced and sang. After we’d exhausted every verse we knew, Uncle Dallas whistled a verse for us. It sounded just like Daddy. I stopped dancing and sat down.

  “Whew!” Aunt Esther said. “I’d better rest too.” She fanned herself with a paper fan from Rudy-Rowland’s Funeral Home. We listened as Uncle Dallas played and whistled.

  Aunt Esther smiled. “My Dallas is a fine whistler. All the Worth men are. I guess they didn’t name this place Whistler’s Hollow for nothing.”

  When the music stopped, I worked up the nerve to ask Uncle Dallas, “Could you teach me that?”

  “What?” he asked, taking a hankie from his overall pocket and wiping his mouth. “Whistling or fiddling?”

  “Both,” I said, even though I’d meant to say only whistling.

  “I’d be prouder than a cat with a dead mouse,” Uncle Dallas said. “Come here.”

  “You mean you’d teach me right now?” I’d asked Papa to teach me to whistle, but he’d always been too busy.

  “Surely,” Uncle Dallas said. “You know what they say. There’s no time like the present.”

  Aunt Esther fanned while Uncle Dallas helped me hold the fiddle under my chin. It felt awkward and I wanted to tell him to forget about teaching me. Then he showed me how to run the bow over the strings to make them sing. After a few minutes he showed me how to play part of “Listen to the Mockingbird,” one of Mama’s favorites.

  “You’re a natural.” Uncle Dallas beamed. “Now let’s try the whistling.”

  I did try, but I didn’t get much more out than a slow wind blowing through the tree limbs. Even Aunt Esther tried to show me how to hold my mouth. She let out a whistle that might have raised the dead. Mine was downright pitiful.

  “Don’t worry,” Aunt Esther said, patting my hand. “It’ll come. Time has a way of working everything out.” She gave me a hug, and I had a feeling she wasn’t really talking about whistling.

  “Dallas, can you help this old woman up the stairs?” she asked. “I’m plumb worn out.” Uncle Dallas laid his violin down and stooped to put his arm around Aunt Esther.

  He helped her from the settee and up the steps. “Good night, Lillie Mae,” Aunt Esther called. In a softer voice I heard her talk to Uncle Dallas. “I know I overdid it tonight, but it was such fun.”

  “It’s all right,” Uncle Dallas said gently. “You’re almost well now.”

  I looked around the small room. Lace curtains hung from the two windows and crocheted doilies lay on the back of the settee and the stuffed chair. I touched the violin and felt a thrill. Maybe Uncle Dallas would keep teaching me. Wouldn’t Mama and Daddy be proud then? I pulled my hand away when I remembered that Mama was dead. For a minute I felt like smashing the violin against the wall. What was the use? Why learn to play if Mama couldn’t hear me?

  Daddy He’d be proud. Listening to the music would help ease the pain of losing Mama. I made up my mind that by the time Daddy got home, I’d be playing “Old Dan Tucker” just like Uncle Dallas. I could picture Daddy whistling while I played. I’d have to get to work right away, because he could get here at any time.

  The parlor clock clicked away the minutes and I figured I’d better get to bed as well. I fell asleep with a smile, looking forward to playing the violin again.

  Along about the middle of the night, something woke me. I felt cold to the bone when I heard the shuffling sound and smelled the horrible odor.

  “Ghosts live there,” Paul had said. Was he right? Was that what was making the noise? I lay still as glass for a few minutes, afraid even to breathe. Then I heard the shuffling sound again and a crash. I hopped out of bed. Maybe Aunt Esther needed help. Had she fallen? She had looked awfully tired when she’d gone to bed.

  The wooden floor shot darts of cold through my bare feet as I inched along the hallway. The only light came from a moonlit hall window. I froze when I heard the shuffling again, but it didn’t come from Aunt Esther and Uncle Dallas’s bedroom. The noise came from behind a closed door.

  I gulped and reached out to grab the doorknob.

  “Lillie Mae!” Uncle Dallas shouted. “What are you doing out of bed?” I whirled around to see Uncle Dallas fully dressed and carrying a big sack.

  “I… heard a noise from there,” I said, pointing to the door.

  Uncle Dallas shook his head. “That’s to the attic. The noise is some loose shingles on the roof.”

  “But I smelled something terrible. Maybe it needs cleaning. If you’d like, I’ll scrub it down tomorrow.”

  “NO!” Uncle Dallas shouted and came closer. “You are never to go up there.”

  I backed against the wall, away from Uncle Dallas. He came closer to me and grabbed my shoulder with one hand. “You are never to go in the attic, Lillie Mae! Do you understand?”

  My mind flashed to Melissa K. Reynolds’s drunken father hitting her with a switch. Would it be that way for me too? I nodded to Uncle Dallas and ran back into my bedroom. Under the quilts I cried myself to sleep.

  8

  Paul

  There were no flipping flapjacks the next morning. Only a bowl of warm oatmeal left on the table. After I ate the oatmeal, I cleaned up the dishes and swept the kitchen floor. I wandered outside and ended up sniffing the faded roses. I looked up at the roof to see if I could see the loose shingles Uncle Dallas had mentioned. As far as I could see, they were all nailed down tight.

  The front screen door flew open and I flinched. Uncle Dallas stood on the front porch, his white hair waving wildly around his head. His eyes were red and he looked upset. “Lillie Mae, ride into town. Get the doctor, quick. Esther has taken a turn for the worse.”

  I didn’t ask questions. I ran to the barn and grabbed Buster. At least I knew how to ride bareback from the time Mrs. Comer had brought her bay to school. I raced off in the direction of town. Aunt Esther had been so full of life last night when we’d danced. How could she be sick? Unless that was the reason, maybe she shouldn’t have danced. If I hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have danced. Maybe I was the reason she’d taken a turn for the worse. I tried to get Buster to go faster. By the time I neared the first house, I realized I didn’t know where the doctor lived.

  I hesitated for a second at the gate. What if one of the mean girls from school lived here? I had no choice but to jump off Buster and ask for help. The house needed painting worse than Whistler’s Hollow, but the yard was trimmed and neat. The porch creaked when I stepped across it. Holding my breath I rapped on the door.

  After a few minutes a lady about my mama’s age opened the door. She was dressed in black and very pale, but smiled when she saw me. “Welcome,” she said. “You must be Lillie Mae.”

  She surprised me by k
nowing my name. “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  The lady pointed back down toward Whistler’s Hollow. “My son Paul works in the mornings for a farmer down the road a piece, before he goes to school. Paul and I think a lot of Esther and Dallas.”

  Paul! I couldn’t believe my closest neighbor was Paul. I nodded, realizing we were wasting precious time. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Garrett. Could you tell me where the doctor lives? Uncle Dallas said for me to fetch him quick.”

  Mrs. Garrett’s smile faded. She was all business. “Go to the first brick house you see. That’s the doctor’s.”

  I nodded my thanks and rushed out to the dirt road. A big black car slowed down as it passed me. I didn’t pay it any mind, I just pulled myself back up on Buster. My chest was heaving along with Buster’s by the time I saw a brick house. I pounded on the door.

  There was no answer. What if the doctor was gone? What was I supposed to do? I pounded again.

  The door creaked open. A little girl, no more than four, stared up at me, sucking her thumb. “Whatcha want?” she asked.

  “I’m looking for the doctor,” I explained.

  “That’s my daddy,” she said proudly.

  “Is he here? I need him now! My aunt’s really sick.”

  “Come on,” she said, turning and walking away. I followed her through the huge house to a back room, wishing she would hurry “My name is Lucy,” she told me before she tapped on the door.

  “That’s nice. My name is Lillie Mae.”

  The door swung open and a bearded man with rolled-up sleeves looked out. “Papa, this is Lillie Mae. Her aunt’s dying.”

  My face burned. “I didn’t say she was dying. Aunt Esther has taken a turn for the worse.”

  “I’ll get my bag,” the doctor said. In five minutes we were in the doctor’s Model T, bouncing over the dirt road with Buster tied to the bumper.