Stomping up each of the dozen steps leading to the school’s entrance, I reached the front door just as the bell sounded. The children parted down the middle, allowing my passage. My expression must’ve warned of my anger.
I stepped into the hallway and was greeted by Mrs. Ellis, who had been my own third-grade teacher. “Victoria!” she exclaimed. “Can I help you?”
“Unless you can point me directly to George Holly, no ma’am. You may not,” I said firmly.
“Oh!” Mrs. Ellis took a step back. “I believe he took over Mr. Allen’s class today. It’s the last one at the end of the hall on the right.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ellis,” I said and continued down the hall.
I reached the classroom and opened the door. Standing at the back of the room, erasing the blackboard, was George Holly. He hadn’t changed much since I’d known him as a child. He still reminded me of a weasel. With the switch still in my hand, I struck the desk in front of me with such force the sound reverberated throughout the room.
“George Holly. You son of a bitch!” My voice was deadly calm.
Jumping slightly, George’s features held a look of both confusion and shock. “Victoria, it’s been awhile. What brings ya here?”
“What d’ya think brings me here, you slimy piece of cow dung!”
I stalked toward him, like a panther after my prey. With each step, I flipped a desk over onto its side and out of my way. The room would resemble a disaster zone before I left.
“Victoria, ya really need to calm down,” he said, backing away as I neared him. “What seems to be the problem?”
Now standing just about six inches from him, I grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him close. “You are my problem, George.” I whispered, my nose nearly touching his. “How dare you expel my children? How dare you allow four big boys to lay a hand on my Gracie?”
“Those were your kids?” he asked.
“Don’t play stupid with me, you bastard. Ya know dammed well those’re my kids. Ya know me and ya knew Will from way back. Don’t you pretend now not to know those kids’re mine! How dare you!”
I abruptly loosened my grip on his shirt, causing him to stumble backward as he stepped away from me. With the switch still in my hand, I whipped it across the nearest desk. Papers flew everywhere. “D’ya see this switch?” He nodded, so I continued. “I just used this switch to whip Gracie and Jack because they wouldn’t tell me why they got expelled. They wouldn’t tell me ’cause they were embarrassed. They didn’t want me to know the ugly things you allow to spew out of the mouths of these vile brats you teach.”
George straightened. “Now hold on a second, Victoria. This isn’t my fault. I simply followed school protocol. Your kids started a fight, so your kids got expelled.”
“My kids started a fight? My kids only threw the first punch. The fight had already started and you allowed it to go on. Then ya had the nerve to expel my kids? Tell me, George: what’d ya do to the other kids? Did they get expelled, or are their daddies your long-time buddies? Tell me whose kids they are—I’ll stop in and see their daddies next.”
“You—ya don’t need to do that, Victoria.”
“The hell I don’t, George! You were a bully when I knew ya, and you’re an even bigger bully now. But more than that, you’re a coward. Let me tell ya somethin’, and ya better listen real good.” George swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re gonna take back that expulsion on my kids, and they’re gonna be here first thing tomorrow mornin’ as though nothin’ ever happened. I’m sick and tired of people like you pushin’ me and mine around. I’ll not have another minute of it! D’ya understand?”
George nodded. “Yes.”
“One more thing, George. This conversation ends here. I don’t wanna hear talk around town of my comin’ here and why. If ya hear talk, squash it. If you’re asked why I was here, tell ’em we’re old friends and I came for a visit. But you will not share the details of why my kids got into a fight at school, and why they were expelled. Ya better be damn sure those little heathens don’t either. Ya don’t want me to come back up here again, George. Understood?”
Dazed, he nodded again.
“I’m warnin’ ya: don’tcha make me come back up to this school. If I do, this switch’ll be the least of your worries. And don’t test me on this. I’m not the naive little girl I was when I left here after marryin’ Will. I’ve had all I can take of you and your kind. There’s nothin’ I’d like better than to take my rage against all y’all out on you. D’ya understand?”
“Yes.”
I stared him down a moment longer then, without another word, I turned and walked out of the classroom. With my shoulders back and my head high, I walked through the front door of the school, down the steps, and never looked back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
THE NEXT DAY, ALL THREE CHILDREN RETURNED to school without issue. The rumors about my excursion spread across town and, with each telling, the story became bigger and more sinister. I’d become a legend overnight. People were whispering, “You’d rather bite a wildcat in the ass than mess with one of Victoria Hastings Harrison’s children.” The phrase made me laugh, but the sentiment was spot-on. I was tired of bullies. I was tired of always fighting to be on top. In my anger, I’d flipped the tables and was soon seen as unpredictable. They didn’t know what I was capable of, or what I might do next. With that one action—done purely in anger, and with no forethought—I’d secured my children from the scorn of David’s birth.
The end of February brought snow showers, but it was nothing like I’d ever seen before or since. Instead of beautiful flakes of white powdering the streets, the snow fell in dark flakes of gray and black like ashes falling from the sky. The dirt and dust now overtook what should’ve been the purity of fresh snow. We wondered how much more we could take of the nothingness that had become our world. Everything was barren. There just wasn’t ever enough rain to moisten the earth. If ever I had wondered what Hell looked like, I wondered no more. This was surely Hell on Earth.
Spring brought warmer temperatures, but still no measurable rain. What rain did come, came down in dark droplets tinged with dirt. Everywhere you looked was just pure ugly. Though spring had arrived, the beauty had been choked out by the dry, dusty earth.
April of 1935 arrived and, with it, a day I will never forget. Now, almost sixty years later, I still awaken at night, terrified from a recurring dream that takes me back to that time and place.
It was Palm Sunday, and we’d all gone to church that morning. The early part of that day was pleasant. If not for the dirt and dust, the day might’ve been gorgeous. In spite of the barren ground, the sun was shining and brought us hope for better days ahead. We’d returned from church and eaten a light meal, then Father Caleb headed out with several other men to hunt jackrabbits. They’d heard the fields east of town were overrun, so a party of men gathered to remove them. The jackrabbits often gave us some of our only meals back on the farm, but their numbers were now too large. They were eating every living thing that attempted to grow on the earth. Groups of men had gathered hunting parties in hopes of diminishing their numbers and, in the process, bring more food back for our tables—food we didn’t have to pay for.
Jack and Ethan had planned to go with Father Caleb, but the two boys had squabbled endlessly since we’d left church that morning. Frustrated with the both of them, I’d punished them by keeping them home, instead giving them chores as penalty for their behavior. They’d cried and begged to go, but I’d put my foot down and refused to allow it. So Father Caleb went without them.
Around the middle of the afternoon, some hours after Father Caleb had gone, I’d sent the kids out into the backyard. They’d worked hard and I needed them out from under my feet. A short time later, Grace came inside alone.
“Thought ya wanted to play outside,” I said to her.
“I did, but it’s gettin’ chilly. And the birds are actin’ funny.”
“What d
’ya mean?” Mother Elizabeth asked.
Gracie shrugged. “They’re chatterin’ and actin’ all nervous-like. Kinda like they do before a tornado comes through, but the weather ain’t right for it.”
“Where’re the boys?” I asked Gracie.
“In the backyard, playin’ kickball.”
“Out with you,” Mother Elizabeth said, opening the door to escort Grace outside. “It’s too nice to be inside. Go.”
I followed Grace outside to check on the boys, but a flock of birds caught my attention immediately. Grace was right; they were acting strangely.
“Mother Elizabeth.” I poked my head back inside the house. “Come out and look at these birds, will ya? Have ya ever seen ’em act like this before?”
Mother Elizabeth stepped onto the stoop behind me. She studied the birds a moment, then shook her head in amusement. “Well, what d’ya know. That is odd. They seem nervous.”
“Mama,” Ethan grabbed my arm and tugged. “What’s that?”
My eyes following the direction of Ethan’s pointed finger, I stared at the blackened sky some miles away. Moving our direction was what appeared to be a large cloud; but, instead of being white and puffy, it was pitch black. I stared for a long moment, but couldn’t quite grasp what I was seeing.
Standing behind me, Mother Elizabeth gasped. “Oh, my God! Victoria—get the children inside. Quick! That’s a dust cloud! A dust storm is movin’ at us and fast.”
Gathering the children, we ran into the house. I dispensed orders as fast as I could come up with them. “Ethan! Go in the back bedroom and stay with David. He’s probably still sleepin’. Try not to wake him up! Grace—find as many washrags as you can, and put them in a pot of water. Make sure to put a lid on it!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gracie and Ethan rushed to do my bidding.
“Jack, help me get some blankets and sheets wet. We need to hang ’em over all the doors and windows, especially the ones closest to the back bedroom. We gotta cover every crack we can. Hurry! We don’t have much time! Those clouds are movin’ in quick.”
“What can I do?” Mother Elizabeth asked from behind me.
“Find some blankets to hang over the top of David’s crib. Let’s try to keep him as covered as possible. Maybe make sure we have a couple more dry blankets we can huddle under if we have to.”
“Caleb—” Mother Elizabeth began.
“I’m sure he’s fine. He’ll have seen those clouds comin’ in and found shelter.”
Moving quickly, we worked together to prepare the room, but there just wasn’t enough time. Within minutes, the light dimmed around us and time was running out. One moment, the house was filled with light; the next moment was nothing more than shadows.
“Everybody into the back bedroom!” I shouted. “We need to stay together! Gracie—where is that pot of wet washrags?”
“Right here, Mama,” she said.
“Go—take ’em into the bedroom. I’ll be right there.”
Herding everyone in, I’d just closed the door when the entire house went black, like the darkest night. There wasn’t a speck of light anywhere. There was no relief for the darkness. We’d run out of time. The wet blankets dropped uselessly from my hands. I couldn’t see the door to hang them if I’d wanted. The ones we normally kept hanging would have to suffice.
“Mama?” Ethan cried out.
“Right here, baby.”
“I can’t see you. I can’t see anything!”
“Grace?” I asked.
“Yes, Mama?”
“Ya have those wet rags?”
“Right here,” she replied.
“Okay, everybody, listen closely: Gracie, start talkin’ and don’t stop. We can’t see anything, but our ears work fine. Gracie’s gonna talk and everybody else is gonna move slowly toward her voice ’til you can touch her. Gracie, can you tell me where y’are?”
“Right beside David’s crib,” she replied.
“Okay, then. Keep talkin’. The rest of y’all start movin’ toward the sound of Gracie’s voice.”
The wind howled outside. Moving carefully, we blindly made our way over to Grace until each of us was touching someone else. We huddled together on the floor and waited. The dust and dirt entered through the tiniest crevices, filling the air with its heaviness. It was so thick we couldn’t even see our own hands in front of our own faces. We closed our eyes to keep the dirt out, but it filled our noses, ears, and even our mouths.
“What’re we gonna do, Mama?” asked Jack. “Where’s Grampa?”
“Grampa’s gonna be just fine,” said Mother Elizabeth. “We’re just gonna sit here and wait this out. Gracie, see if you can wring out some of those washrags and pass ’em around. Let’s get them put over your faces to keep the dust out.”
David began crying from the crib next to me. He must’ve been terrified. We were all afraid, but we were all old enough to understand. David was just an infant. Feeling around in the dark, I reached inside and lifted his tiny body onto my lap.
“Does anybody know if there’s an extra blanket nearby?” I asked. “I need one to cover David’s head.”
“I saw one in the crib, Mama,” Grace said.
“Can you try to find it for me, Gracie?”
Grace moved for long moments before finding the blanket. “Here, Mama,” she said, holding it out for me in the dark.
I reached toward her voice and took the blanket from her hands. I placed it over David’s head, then took a wet cloth from Grace.
“Did everyone get a wet rag?” I asked. “I want those over your faces. Don’t breathe without it.”
David’s crying pierced through the darkness, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I worried about him. With each breath, he inhaled more of the dirt deep into his lungs. I tried to keep a rag over his face, but he fought me and cried harder. The best I could do was keep the blanket firmly over his head and hope for the best.
Grace cried next, followed by Ethan’s sobs.
“Y’all two stop that cryin’,” I said. “I can only stand one baby cryin’ at a time, and I can’t do a thing about him. But y’all two are old enough to stop.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Grace said through tears.
“Don’t be so hard on ’em, Victoria,” Mother Elizabeth scolded. “They’re scared.”
“We’re all scared. I need ’em to be strong.”
The wind howled, and the dirt swept through the room. I’m not sure how long we sat in the pitch black of that bedroom, but I’m sure it must’ve been at least four or five hours. I sat until my legs fell asleep and my back ached. David dozed off from time to time, but the older children were wide awake. They alternated between tears and complete silence. This must be Hell, I thought. Only an angry God would send so much destruction. I thought surely He must’ve come to Earth, collected his most ardent believers, and left us behind.
In years since, I’ve been asked how I maintained a faith in God when we were all so miserable, and each day seemed more miserable than the last. This is the truth: belief kept me strong. I knew Will was somewhere better than here. If I didn’t believe in God, then what did that mean for Will? I knew Will was out there somewhere, watching over us and guiding me when I was most desperate. If there was no God, then there could be no Will. The latter wasn’t something I was willing to accept.
After several hours, the wind died down, and the blackness turned to gray. Once again we could see the shadowed outlines of each other in the darkness. We sat still longer, not knowing if the storm would return. When we were each fully visible, I gazed around the room. Everything was covered in dirt, literally an inch or more thick. It looked like someone had taken buckets full of dirt and just tossed them throughout the room. When we emerged outside, we found the streets covered as well. In some places, the dirt had drifted into large piles like snowdrifts on a winter day. Birds lay dead in the street, as well as the neighbor’s dog. I thought about Father Caleb. I’d told Mother Elizabeth he’d be fine;
that he’d have seen the dust coming and would’ve found a place for shelter. What if he hadn’t?
Looking out onto the street, I saw cars covered in dirt and tires buried a foot deep. How could we possibly overcome this destruction? Was it even possible? Would there ever come a day when I’d look out at my beloved homeland and not see death, devastation, and destruction? I prayed for that day with everything I had. In the meantime, we set to work cleaning up.
The biggest and worst dust storm of our generation blew in almost forty-six years to the day when people all over the world had flocked to these same lands to claim property of their own in the Oklahoma Land Run of 1889. Now, some of these same families would leave just as quickly. Our Oklahoma land was no longer beautiful and prosperous. It wasn’t fit for human survival.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
PALM SUNDAY OF 1935 BECAME KNOWN AS Black Sunday. A party of twenty-seven men had gone hunting for jackrabbits that day, and only six returned. Father Caleb was not among them. Survivors said the storm caught them all by surprise and too far from any reasonable means for shelter. Soon they were stranded and blinded by the darkness. With no sense of direction, they couldn’t tell up from down, and were doomed to wait out the storm with only the clothing on their backs to cover their faces. It wasn’t enough. The heavy dust entered their lungs, smothering them slowly. I can only think it must’ve been an awful way to die. Those who survived succumbed to dust pneumonia shortly thereafter, resulting in the deaths of two more in the following days. The remaining four lived to tell the tale, but they never discussed it. Ever. The guilt of surviving, when so many others had died, haunted them until their deaths some years later.
Mother Elizabeth was distraught. Hoping to ease the pain by sharing it together, Julianne and her children stayed with us for a while afterward. Unfortunately, the house was small and tensions were high, so their stay was short. Jacob was notified of his father’s death, but poverty and the distance between us made it impossible for him to return home. He’d married his high school sweetheart the year before, then followed his wife’s people to Mississippi for a better life. Without Jacob and Julianne, Mother Elizabeth’s grief became mine to shoulder. Twice she’d taken me in and cared for me, and now it was my turn to care for her.
The Edge of Nowhere Page 21
