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It was like another storm was on the horizon, but the hot August sun was high in the clear blue sky. It felt like something horrible was going to happen and I held Moses even closer to me as I called for Lucille and Mary Lou to stop playing and come to me on the porch.
I could hear a familiar rumbling sound off in the distance, a sound I had heard only once or twice before. Lucille and Mary Lou felt it too cause they stood there still as statues as we watched Mr. MacPhee’s black car drive up to our house.
“Good day, girls.” Mr. MacPhee said as he tipped his had to us. “Lovely out, isn’t it.”
The three of us simply nodded, but remained silent, waiting for this evil man to make the next move.
“I’m looking for your father. Can you get him for me please?” Mr. MacPhee said as he made his way to the porch.
“Papa is at work,” I replied quickly. “He left at daybreak.”
Mr. MacPhee had a crooked, devious smile. “But today is Sunday, Haley. No one works on the Sabbath.”
I swallowed hard, like I had a big lump in my throat. “Well, my Papa doesn’t believe in God, and he said this Sabbath stuff is hogwash.” I held Moses close to me so to hide the marks left by the hail on his delicate skin. “So why are you working today?” I asked, pleased with my response.
Mr. MacPhee wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “Actually, I am not working today. I have an aunt in Maitland and our house is on my way. Thought I’d stop in to see your father on my way through.”
Well, I didn’t believe that story for a minute, but I’m sure he didn’t believe mine either.
“Lucille, what have you had to eat today?” Mr. MacPhee glared at my youngest sister. “Was it yummy?”
I held my breath for her answer. “I don’t remember.” Lucille started to cry. I sighed in relief. “You know, stupid,” Mary Lou blurted out, “Haley didn’t make us anything cause she was up all night with Moses soaking his bruises and she was too tired.”
Mr. MacPhee then asked to take a look at the baby. I sat there shaking my head no and began to cry too. “Mary Lou, how could you!” I yelled, as Mr. MacPhee pulled the blanket away to view Moses’ black and blue arms.
“What in the world happened here?” Mr. MacPhee’s face was turning red. “Did your father beat this baby?”
“No sir,” I cried. “We got caught in the hail storm yesterday. The hail bruised Moses’ skin. My father never beat us.” One lie after another. I would go to hell for sure for all my sins.
Mr. MacPhee examined Moses closely and must have been satisfied with my explanation of the hair. He then went inside the house to the kitchen. The dirty dishes were piled high from yesterday’s fiasco, the floor wasn’t swept and there were clothes everywhere. As Mama would say, the place was a mess.
Mr. MacPhee proceeded to pull the curtains from the cupboard aside that concealed our food. The supply that Miss Simpson had brought us after Mama died was almost gone. Although I had thought about how to replenish it a few times, we had been eating pretty good and there wasn’t time to worry about it.
“When does your father plan to buy some food? I see a couple cans of beans, some molasses a bit of flour? How does he plan to feed you? Kill the cow that supplies your milk?”
Now I was frightened. Really frightened. Mr. MacPhee was right. There wasn’t enough food to get us through another week, and then what? Eggs from the chickens and vegetables from the garden? Then I thought about last year and that’s what we ate most every day except for the odd time Papa would come home with a rabbit or pheasant for Mama to cook. His breath would be wreaking of beer as he proudly paraded his trophies for us to see and be thankful to him for bringing home.
“My father hunts, Mr. MacPhee, and we have a bountiful garden this year. So we will be fine.” I would have to learn how to shoot Papa’s gun.
“Haley,” Mr. MacPhee said gently to me as he knelt down beside me, “things are not good here. It’s very plain to see. And I don’t know why you are so scared of me when I only have you and your sisters’ and brother’s welfare in my best interest. If I thought for a minute that your father put those bruises on that baby I’d have the four of you in my care and out of this dump by now. But, I believe your cockamamie story. And I saw on the drive that your fields are mowed, the hay is in, and your gardens are flourishing, so your father is doing something right. You’ve go to tell him, Haley, since I can never seem to tell him myself, that he has to stop spending his pay on liquor and that his family needs looking after.”
I wanted to burst out laughing and shout that we had done all the work around here, but if I said that we’d be gone from here for sure. So I bit my tongue and nodded. “Yes Mr. MacPhee.”
“I will be back Haley. Tell your father.” The man got in his care and drove away. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours as we watched the dust rolling from behind. “We’ll be fine. I will look after us all. I promise. I promise.”
That very next day, while the girls took turns hold Moses, I practiced shooting Papa’s gun. I took the .22 to the very end of the field where the trees grew.
Hayley's Journal Page 5