SECRET IN THE CELLAR

by Ruby Jackson

  7

  SECRET IN THE CELLAR

  By Ruby Jackson

  Secret in the Cellar

  Copyright © 2012 by Ruby Jackson

  ebook - Published 2012

  All Rights Reserved – Printed in the United States

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, either living or dead, are purely coincidental. All characters and events in this work are figments of the author’s imagination.

  Chapter 1

  Sammie kept shaking. Numbness crept into her limbs. It was getting harder to concentrate.

  “Lord, this is it. I’m going to die,” she stammered through chattering teeth. “I’ll never know the love I’ve wanted all my life! I’ll never get to share the love I could give someone else.”

  Pulling the burlap sacks closer around her, Sammie heaped the hay higher over her shoulders. The haystack wasn’t giving enough warmth. The barn was cold, beaten by ice sheets outside. There was no escape. No way to go anywhere else.

  Sammie could feel her eyes shutting as she drifted toward sleep.

  “I can’t go to sleep,” she huffed out. “I’ve got to stay awake. I’ve got to!”

  Humming to herself, Sammie tried to fill her mind with thoughts that would keep her awake. Tears filled her eyes. She could feel them freezing on her cheek.

  What difference does it make? She thought. The two people I love most in the world I can’t have.

  A sob escaped and Sammie opened her eyes. Hay stuck to her lashes. She closed them again.

  “Lord, why did you let me fall in love with a man and his son if I couldn’t have them? Oh, God, I have always put my trust in you,” Sammie quietly whispered, “If this is where it all ends, then, I know you have a reason. I don’t understand it, but I won’t doubt you.”

  Exhaustion slowly took over as Sammie struggled to stay awake. Her mind filled with the events that had brought her to the house near the highway close to Childress, Texas. The place she had run to when there was nowhere else to go. The place where she met Cecil.

  “Oh, Cecil, I could have made you a good wife, just like Lydia did, if only I had been given the chance. If only--.”

  Sammie tried to picture the day she arrived on the bus. Her dream of a new life exploded into excitement as she stepped off the bus, but, it had been short lived.

  *****************

  “Wait! Wait! This can’t be right!” Sammie screamed as she whirled around. “Don’t leave! Please, come back!”

  Her voice wasn’t heard. The bus was gone, lost in a cloud of dust.

  Looking around, Sammie stared at the long rows of cotton that stretched for miles on the flat land in every direction.

  “Looks a lot different out here than it did on the bus,” she said under her breath. She had watched from the bus window as mile upon mile of the white cotton streamed by. Not knowing what it was, she had finally asked a man sitting close by.

  Pickers were gathering the boles and putting them in long canvas sacks slung over one shoulder. Trailers, laden with white, stood as beacons in the middle of the fields.

  “Where in the world am I? This can’t be Childress,” she uttered aloud. “There’s no town out here!”

  She had counted her money, taken out enough to eat a meal, and then asked the clerk at the bus station to give her a ticket to Childress. She told the driver she was going to visit the Bryan family of Childress. Why didn’t he take her to the town? Why did he leave her on the side of the road? Did the driver just dump her out as a joke?

  Sammie looked around again. She was worried. The layover in Wichita Falls had drained her. But this could be worse. She never dreamed the bus would drop her in the middle of nowhere. But, that’s where she was, in the middle of nowhere.

  Stuck. Stuck in only God knew where with no money and nowhere to go.

  “What do I do now? There isn’t a town, a phone, or anything,” she lamented under her breath. Looking up at the sky, she shook her head. “God, I put all of this in your hands. I trusted that I would be let out in Childress and everything would be fine. Now, I feel like this is a nightmare. A different kind of nightmare from the one I left in Fort Worth, but just the same, a nightmare. This nightmare finds me with no money and not knowing where I am. I need help!”

  Just as Sammie was about to approach the pickers, she noticed some trees in the distance. Shading her eyes, she stared at the horizon. Sammie could see automobiles and wagons. There was one lone house highlighted by the late afternoon sun.

  “Maybe that’s where the town is!” she exclaimed.

  Looking at the pickers again, Sammie decided to walk a little ways from them and then cut through the field toward the trees. She was hoping not to have to explain why she got off the bus at that spot.

  Walking toward the house, she felt the cotton scratching her legs. She continued crossing the field and found herself approaching the edge of a cemetery next to a dirt road. Sidestepping, she stood by a tree. People were leaving the cemetery. Most were walking toward the stucco house a short distance away; leaving the autos where they were parked.

  Only two people were left by a fresh grave. The man was slumped. The woman had her arm through his. Sammie’s attention was drawn to them. Their voices carried on the wind, but she couldn’t make out everything that was said.

  “Cecil, why don’t you let us keep Danny for awhile,” Linda Greeley said as she stood beside her brother looking at the newly dug grave. “It would give you more time to---.”

  “To what, Linda? To get over losing my wife? To get myself straightened out? I’m all right. I need my son with me. He needs me as much as I need him. He doesn’t need to feel like he’s lost both of us,” Cecil Bryan answered. The lump in his throat was choking him. So was the conversation. He shouldn’t have to be standing beside a grave. A grave with his wife and baby daughter inside.

  A pain stabbed deep inside. If only they had gone to his sister’s house to stay sooner. Maybe, just maybe, they both would still be alive. Shaking his head, he hoped the pain would go away.

  As if reading his mind, Linda cupped his face. “Cecil, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Babies are born out here all the time. There was a problem we couldn’t overcome. There wasn’t anything we could do.”

  Pulling away, Cecil’s tears pulled at his eyes. If only she knew, he thought, if only she knew. Kneeling next to the fresh dirt, he lay across it and wept.

  Sammie watched from her tree hideaway. The man in the plaid shirt shook as he rubbed the ground. The woman beside him slowly walked away, dabbing her eyes.

  Sammie gazed for awhile at the man’s back, then moved toward the house where the woman had disappeared. Cars and wagons were pulled up everywhere. People milled around outside and inside. Conversations were going on everywhere.

  She caught bits and pieces of the conversations as she slowly moved toward the house. Cotton was growing bad this year. Corn wasn’t getting enough water. Summer had been too hot for man or beast. Politicians didn’t know anything about the welfare of the people. President Hoover needed to do something. How about that new Empire State Building in New York City! Poor Cecil.

  Sammie moved closer to the people talking about Cecil. There would be rough times ahead for the two: father and young son. No one to take care of the house and gardening. The boy would be alone without his mother. Cecil was too good a man for such a terrible thing to happen to him.

  “You must be part of Lydia’s family,” a voice said from behind Sammie.

  Sammie jumped and quickly turned around to face the voice. A kindly old woman stood in front of her.

  “There’s a resemblance I can see; same curly brown hair and brown eyes. You’re even about the same
size. You a cousin?”

  Sammie bit her lip. Words wouldn’t come.

  “You must be a cousin. You look too much like her not to be her relative. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

  “I…,” Sammie stopped herself. “I haven’t seen her in a long time.” Sammie stared at the ground.

  “Well, honey, you go on in and get something to eat. There’s plenty. I think you’re the only one from her family that showed up. I guess the rest of your people think they’re too good to come out here. I’m glad she had one family member who stuck by her.”

  Stuck by her? Sammie was stung. What was the woman talking about?

  The old woman took Sammie by the arm and led her into the house. The living room was full and no one seemed to notice her. Moving into the kitchen, a few women were putting more food on the table. The old woman grabbed a plate and shoved it into her hand.

  “You get whatever you want, honey. This here pretty girl is Linda. She’s Cecil’s sister. She’ll get you something cool to drink to go with your food. Ladies, this here is…uh…Lydia’s cousin. I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Sammie,” Sammie said low. Looking down, she felt eyes burning into her, but the hunger in her stomach made her not care. The smell of the food was drawing her toward indulgence. She hadn’t eaten in two days. Not real food anyway. There had been a soda and candy bar, but that wasn’t real food.

  Sammie realized the smells and hunger were making her a little light-headed and nauseated. Carefully she put small amounts of food on her plate.

  No since in making myself sick in front of these strangers, she thought.

  Looking around, she wondered how these people knew Lydia and why she wasn’t there herself.

  “I don’t recall Lydia talking about you, but, then again, she didn’t talk about her family much. You’re probably the only one she kept in touch with. Did she write you often?” Linda commented, still looking a hole through her.

  Sammie wasn’t sure what to answer. She decided truth was best at this point.

  “No, no, she didn’t. There were letters about two or three times a year. That’s all.”

  “You’re the one she wrote! Ever once in a while I knew she wrote someone but I didn’t know who. Sometimes I mailed the letters for her. Well anyway, you are welcome to be here. I’m sorry you didn’t come sooner. She was a lovely woman,” Linda finally said with a sad smile. “I’m sure she missed her family. I’m glad she kept in contact with you.”

  Sammie bit her lip again. Did Lydia miss her family? No, a resounding no, Sammie knew. It wasn’t right that Lydia hadn’t told them how she really felt. She needed to tell them the truth. With a prayer, she hoped they would, yet wouldn’t, find out.

  And what did this woman mean by ‘was a lovely woman’.

  “Did you drive down from Wichita Falls?” Linda continued as she motioned toward a chair in a corner.

  “No,” Sammie said, quite low. Wheels were quickly turning in her head. “No, I rode the bus. I didn’t---.”

  “Oh, you poor thing!” Linda said, loudly. “You didn’t get here in time for the funeral. You didn’t know she was buried just a little while ago! Oh, how dreadful! You had to be the only one in her family she cared about, and you had to miss her funeral this way. Too bad you weren’t closer so we would have known how to contact you sooner.”

  “Funeral? Dead?” Sammie steadied herself against the table. A lump closed her throat.

  Lydia gone? How could this be? What was she going to do? She had expected Lydia to take her in!

  “Lydia---?” Suddenly Sammie realized the Cecil at the grave was Lydia’s husband, the one she had read about in the letters.

  “You didn’t know? I’m so sorry you had to find out this way. Even so, it was nice of you, her cousin, to come all this way to visit. But it’s sad that now you have to turn around and go back so soon,” Linda continued.

  Tears choked Sammie. Now she was in over her head. These people wouldn’t understand. There was no turning back. No place to go.

  They believed her to be Lydia’s cousin. It was too late to change that. She had to keep pretending it was so. Somehow she had to continue with this charade.

  “Well, the woman that brought you in is our grandmother. She raised Cecil and me after our parents died. She’s a little wampus-cat. You’ve probably never seen anyone as spry as her. Over there, in that green chair, is Aunt Jewel. She and Uncle Arnold live about twenty miles from here. In the next chair is Aunt Mary. She’s our youngest aunt. Since she became a widow, she has lived here with Granny. The rest of the people are assorted cousins and friends.”

  Sammie looked around the room at the visiting women. Nothing like my family, she thought. My family probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone.

  Linda kept talking. “Cecil and Lydia’s farm is a ways from town. Just like Granny’s, except a little farther off. They didn’t come in except once a month. When they came in, they’d stay here a night or two and visit. Then sometimes I took their supplies out to them, especially during canning season or when Cecil was gathering in his cotton and corn. I loved going out and helping Lydia can. She would laugh and sing. Always happy, that one. I will surely miss her.”

  “You don’t live on the farm?” Sammie asked between bites.

  “Oh, no, we live in town. Arthur has a store and we run it. Arthur is my husband. We also sell gasoline for the automobiles. It’s a good living. Arthur’s brother, Earl, goes out and farms. He’s a good hand and likes farming, but I guess he’ll never own a place of his own. He’s happy living in town where he can play dominoes and visit with his friends on weekends. Do you live in town or on one of the farms near Wichita Falls?”

  Sammie was puzzled. Why did they think she came from Wichita Falls?

  “Wichita Falls?”

  “Why, yes, I figure you must have lived near Lydia before she came here,” Linda answered.

  “We…..”

  Sammie was about to reply when the screened door opened and Granny came through pulling Cecil toward the table.

  “Now, son, you need to eat. It’s been two days since anyone has seen you put a morsel in your mouth. That little boy out there needs a strong pa and you need to keep your strength up. Linda, fix him a plate.”

  Sammie slowly moved from the table. Placing her plate on the counter, she quickly made her way through the women and out the back door. She didn’t need a confrontation with the only person who would probably know she wasn’t a cousin to his wife.

  Looking around, she noticed all the wagons, pickups, and cars in the yard. Quietly, she made her way toward them, carefully looking in all directions to make sure she wasn’t detected. As she made her way through the vehicles she wondered what she needed to do.

  God, you show me which one of these things to hide in. I’ve got to move on before anyone finds out who I’m not.

  A large piece of canvas covered the back of an old, rusty pickup close by. Perfect cover, she thought. No one would think to look under the thick material until well away from here. Slowly, Sammie climbed into the back of the bed and slid under the canvas. Lying next to the cab, she felt warmth fill her body and soon was asleep. Dreams of running in all directions looking for Lydia filled her mind.

  The motor starting awakened her sometime later. Voices came from outside the canvas.

  “You be careful going home, you hear?” a woman’s voice said. Sammie recognized the voice as Linda’s. “I’ll be over in a week or so to make sure you’re all right.”

  Sammie could tell someone answered but couldn’t distinguish if it was a man or woman.

  Slowly at first, the pickup began to move. Dust began to boil up inside the bed. Sammie was glad she could pull the canvas closer to her and block the dust. It seemed the pickup stayed on the road forever. She began to feel sick. Her head kept banging against the inside wall. Her body ached from the bouncing. Dust filled her nose.

  After what seemed to be hours, th
ere was a billow of dust and a screeching of brakes. The pickup had finally stopped. Sammie wondered where she was and what she would do next.

  Peeking from under the canvas, she realized it had grown dark. Stars twinkled overhead. She could see a three quarter moon hanging on the horizon.

  The person driving the pickup was moving from one side of it to the other. Opening the other door, the figure removed a limp object and carried it toward the dark house.

  “Come on, Blue, you’ve sniffed around that truck long enough. Git up here!” a voice in the dark bellowed.

  Sammie waited until she saw a small light come on inside before she uncovered herself completely. She could hear the dog barking inside the house. Another light soon followed the first.

  Slowly moving to the back of the pickup, she climbed out and quickly moved in the shadows of the few trees in the yard. She looked inside a window and gasped. She had gotten in the pickup of Cecil. Looking back at the canvas and pickup, she realized that had been the way he had carried the casket to the cemetery near his grandma’s house. Shivering, Sammie squatted below the window.

  What now?

  Looking around, her eyes settled on the brightly lit door of the cellar. Light had it encircled like a beacon in the night. Quietly she moved to the cellar and opened the massive door. Peering in, the light of the moon illuminated a table with a lamp sitting on top. Matches sat near the lamp. Sammie made her way into the underground room and lit the lamp. Quickly, she climbed the few steps and closed the door. Returning to the table, she picked up the lamp. A dust covered bible rested on the table. Sammie fingered the bible for a minute and smiled. Then with a long sigh, she looked around the damp room.

  Shelves lined two of the walls. Jars of canned vegetables and fruits filled the shelves. There were cans of beans, milk, and coffee beside store bought flour. Dried fruits were wrapped in cloth and potatoes covered one corner of the dirt floor. Smoked hams hung from a rafter, and salt covered meats were in small barrels in another corner. A small bed was against another wall and a wicker bottomed chair sat next to it. Wooden logs were set close together on the walls with chinked mud and grass filling in between them.