SECRET IN THE CELLAR

by Ruby Jackson

  Sammie moved to the bed. Moving the covers stacked on the end of the bed brought a dust storm. It filled the room. Sammie sneezed. She looked around then decided to step outside again. The house was dark. Looking on the moonlit ground, she found a small rock about six inches thick. Placing it between the door and frame, she left a small opening for air. Soon, there was a draft coming through from the door to the vent pipe in the ceiling. The dust subsided.

  Fingering the shelves as she looked, Sammie soon found a few plates, forks, spoons, and cups wrapped in cloth and put into a basket. A canteen set next to the basket. She shook it and found it empty. A can opener lay next to the canteen along with a knife and two towels.

  Quickly, Sammie grabbed the can opener and walked over to the canned food. She picked up a can of beans and opened them. Not using a plate, she spooned the beans out and ate them while standing in front of the shelf. When she had finished, she opened a small jar of peaches and ate those as well.

  With a full stomach Sammie became weary and tired. She sat in the chair and stared at the lamplight. Trying to keep her mind on the events of the day, she wondered about the man in the house. Losing his wife had to be a tragedy. His young son had lost his mother. Now they were alone. Sammie wondered if the man they called Cecil was inside holding his son or was he staring at the ceiling wondering what to do next. She decided he was doing both.

  Tears streamed down her face. She remembered her mother holding her and staring at the ceiling the first few weeks after her father died. She remembered the pain her mother went through for months after his death. The way she cried in her apron; the way she stared down the road day after day; the way she slowly began to drink the moonshine Papa’s friends brought by. The way she finally started laughing and letting the men stay over at the house.

  She also remembered the day her mother remarried. Frank was loud and boisterous. He smelled like the factory he worked in and the whiskey he drank. He looked dirty and unkept. But her mother seemed happy. Her face lit up each time she looked at him.

  Sammie had written Lydia and told her about it. She had begged her to move back home. But Lydia didn’t. Then they moved just to the edge of Fort Worth. In the move, she lost Lydia’s address. For months she waited for a letter. One didn’t come.

  One day, when she came home from school Frank, her step-father, was holding a letter from Lydia above his head. It was open. He started telling her what was in it.

  With a big, ugly smile he said he’d give her the letter if she’d do him a favor. He wanted….

  No, Sammie thought, I’m not going there. And, I’m not going back to his house, ever!

  Blowing out the lamp, she lay down on the bed.

  “Lydia, if you were only alive. Things would be different. Life would be so much simpler.”

  Sammie lay in the dark, wondering what she would do. Where would she go? How would she get there?

  Pain, caused by the loss, jabbed at Sammie. Her heart ached. She felt numb. Her mind was jumbled. She was overwhelmed with the day’s events. Nothing had turned out the way she had planned. Everything was wrong.

  The evening air began to cool. Pulling a quilt over her, she settled her head onto another quilt she had folded for a pillow. After lying on the bed a few minutes, she sat up with eyes wide. What if there were snakes inside the cellar?

  Squinting her eyes, she looked into the dark.

  “No,” she said aloud, “I’m not going to be scared. I will not allow the devil to make me paranoid!”

  Looking up with eyes closed, she continued, “God, I put my trust in you. You have protected me all these years and I know you will protect me now.”

  Sammie thought of how Lydia had also protected her for years. When her mother’s men friends started coming around, she didn’t like the way they smelled or acted. It was Lydia who had protected and shielded her from them.

  Sammie remembered the way the men stared at Lydia and her. The way they smiled and tried to touch them. Lydia would grab her hand and they would rush out the door as the men laughed and blew kisses. They would crouch in the shed until the men left. Sometimes when a man was there during the day, they would go to the library. Lydia would read to her for hours.

  Then one day, Lydia was gone. She never returned. Sammie remembered the last words she heard. They played in her mind.

  Things grew worse after that. Sammie had to look out for herself. She watched as strange men hugged her mother and kissed her and whispered in her ear. Her mother’s laughter rang out into the night. Finally, Sammie began to hide in her room or out in the shed while her mother danced and drank with her new friends. She became afraid and wanted no part of the nightly activities. Her step-father was no different. He worked in a factory but when he was home, he drank and danced around the living room, with her mother laughing and singing. He was continuously trying to get her to dance with him.

  Shivering, Sammie put the thought out of her mind. She had to. Her mother was dead. She wasn’t in Fort Worth anymore. She was at Lydia’s house in her cellar. This was where she had to stay until she could decide what to do. There was no other way to look at her situation. This was now home.

  7

  Chapter 2

  “Danny, are you finished with breakfast? You need to get out on the road. The bus will be here soon.” Cecil said as he lifted the boy’s jacket from the nail by the door. “Come on put your bowl in the tub.”

  “There, my oats are finished. You did good, Pa.” Danny said as he placed the bowl and spoon in the large tub where his father’s cup was already resting. “Not as good as Mama made them, but you’ll learn.”

  Cecil turned around. Tears filled the boy’s eyes. Cecil quickly closed the gap.

  “It’s all right. I’m right here,” he said into Danny’s hair.

  “I’m sorry, Pa. I didn’t mean to start crying.”

  “It’s all right for you to cry. I understand. I can’t take your mother’s place. But, we men will get through this. We’re tough,” Cecil said as he kissed his son’s head. “I know you’ll see me cry sometimes, too. But, don’t worry. I have you to help me just like you have me.”

  Danny hugged his father and nodded. Then he grabbed his lunch pail. “Pa, Ole Blue followed the bus last week. Can you keep him up here until I leave?”

  “We’ve gone through this before, Danny. That old dog will do what he wants. He’s too old to change now. Here’s your coat,” Cecil said as he got off the floor and went to the back door.

  Cecil helped with the coat as Danny placed his arms in the sleeves. Giving his father a hug, Danny hurried out the front door just as dust could be seen coming down the dirt road. Cecil watched from the door as his son entered the bus. He could hear the creaking and groaning as the bus moved down the road once again. Turning, he headed back to the kitchen, grabbed his own coat from a nail, and closed the door behind him. The chores wouldn’t wait. Pulling the latch on the chicken coop, he swung the door open. Not losing a step he moved to the shed and brought out chops for the hog. After pumping water to mix with the chops, he poured them into the trough. He stood and watched the big black hog stick its snout into the mixture. Soon it would be time to have Linda’s husband and brother-in-law over to help butcher it. There was one already in the cellar for his winter. They had been over just two weeks before. This one was for them. Turning, he made his way into the barn. Bess, the Jersey milk cow, stood waiting. Shaking his head, Cecil turned her into the yard with her calf.

  “I’m not in the mood to milk you this morning. I’ll put you back in the barn when I return from the fields and milk you tomorrow.”

  The tractor rumbled, sputtered, and died after Cecil climbed on and pushed the start button. Hitting the steering wheel, he got off and banged on the starter. Grabbing a small can from a shelf, he poured a little liquid into the carburetor. Stepping upon the tractor, he pushed the start button again. With a whir, the motor sputtered but continued to run. Settling into the seat he drove the tractor ou
t of the shed and headed for the south field. Dust billowed behind him.

  He watched a flock of geese flying overhead. Going south, he thought. Looking at the trees along the creek, he could see a slight tint of red along with the green. Fall was definitely on its way. The air was cooling down and the coolness wasn’t going away. Winter would be on fall’s heels in no time.

  Cecil hated for winter to come. He and Danny would be alone. No one else to talk to. Only memories. Sighing, Cecil pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. First things first, he thought. He had to finish the cotton. Pickers were almost finished and the dead plants would need to be plowed under. He had thought about planting winter wheat, but now he didn’t feel like it. He didn’t feel like doing any of it. The cotton stalks could wait until spring.

  *****************************************************************

  Sammie watched as Danny got on the bus. The little rock was doing its job. It held the door open just enough to see out, but not too open to look like it needed to be closed. Movement from the house made her turn her head in time to see Cecil move toward the barn. He didn’t look in her direction. She watched the lean body heave the slop into the hog trough, then move into the barn.

  Sitting back on the bed, she wondered how long he would be in the barn. A few minutes later she heard the tractor. Hurrying to the door again, she could barely see him move from the lean-to shed at the barn and head toward the fields. With a sigh, she slowly opened the door a little wider and watched until he was out of sight.

  Opening the door completely, Sammie stepped out into the sunlight. Her dress was dusty and had little smudges where the dampness of the cellar had caused the dirt to cling.

  “So this is what a farm looks like,” she mumbled.

  Sammie walked from the chicken pen to the hog pen. She stared at the animals. Her eyes were big and round. She had never seen live animals, only pictures.

  Running to the fence near the barn, she looked in. A sad-eyed brown cow looked at her. The calf turned away from his mother and stared. Backing away, she made her way to the back door of the house.

  “What am I doing?” she said with brows lowered. “I can’t go in someone’s house without permission.”

  Turning the door knob, she entered anyway.

  The door opened into the kitchen. It wasn’t large, but it was cozy. A wood stove, with its stove pipe running through the ceiling, stood out from the wall. The icebox was against the wall next to the back door. A table and four chairs sat in the middle of the room. A pie safe, with its dishpan and cabinets, was next to the door that led into the other part of the house. Sammie entered the door.

  The living room was small, also. The divan had a crocheted doily draped across the back with an afghan hanging off the arm. A chair was next to the lone window. Another doily was under the lamp on the table beside the chair. Nails were in the wall by the door leading to the outside. A big string rug covered the wood floor except near the wood heater.

  Sammie could see two closed doors off the living room. Looking out the window, she then turned to one of the doors and started to open it. Suddenly, she pulled her hand away and stared at the door.

  “What am I doing?” she said aloud. “I’ve already intruded in this man’s house. I can’t go into this bedroom. It’s not proper. It might be his room. God help me!” Sammie fled from the house and headed back to the cellar.

  Sitting on the steps, Sammie read chapter after chapter in the book that had been lying on the table. She walked around occasionally and looked at the animals again. The little calf sucked on her fingers. Sammie laughed. The Jersey eyed her and mooed, but never moved from the grass she was eating. Chickens cleaned up the slop that was left by the big black hog. Sammie watched in amazement as they scratched and clucked around the trough. The hog rolled in the mud and lay contented in the sunshine. He was oblivious to the chickens’ activities.

  Sammie wished she could be so carefree and happy. She knew she would soon have to go back into the cellar and wait for the occupants of the house to return. She wasn’t free to do as she pleased around the farm. Slowly, she filled the canteen she had brought up from the cellar and returned to her room.

  The sound of the bus returning in the late afternoon brought Sammie up to the door. She could see Danny jumping from the open door and skipping to the house. Throwing his lunch pail on the porch, he grabbed a basket from inside the back door, and headed to the chicken pen. Poking his hand into the nests, he brought out golden brown eggs and placed them inside the basket. Stepping out of the henhouse, he moved to the barn. Sammie could tell he was looking for nests where the hens were hiding more eggs. Smiling, she could hear him talking to the hens as he moved around the yard when he returned from the barn.

  “All right, girls, I know we have more eggs than this. Where are they? Some of you are laying in different spots, ain’t you? You’re trying to trick me into thinking you’re not laying, but I know you are,” he said in his young voice.

  Sammie moved back into the shadows of the cellar as Danny walked by the door. She held her breath. Would he notice the door wasn’t completely closed?

  There was a sniffing sound and a little whine. Sammie moved closer to the back wall. The dog was at the door.

  Please, no, please, Sammie muttered under her breath.

  Soon she heard Danny’s voice scolding the dog and then the whining faded away. She knew she was safe. Danny hadn’t noticed the rock holding the door and he hadn’t given in to the dog’s whines and scratching.

  Sometime later Sammie heard the whir of the tractor as it came nearer. Listening carefully, she could tell when it turned and went into the lean-to. She hoped the father wasn’t more observant than the son.

  She listened until she could hear footsteps come closer. Holding her breath, she waited.

  “Pa! Pa, guess what!” came Danny’s excited voice.

  The sound of crunching rock and dirt came through the door. Sammie could hear the excited running of little feet and then the huff of Cecil picking up the child.

  “I could never guess in a million years. You tell me what,” the father said, planting a kiss on the boy.

  “Teacher said I got the most math problems right today! She gave me a licorice stick! I ate it before she could change her mind!”

  Cecil laughed. “Well, I bet it was mighty good.”

  “I was going to save a little piece for you, but, I got hungry on the playground, so I ate that piece, too. I’m sorry.”

  Sammie looked through the crack. Danny had his arms around Cecil’s neck. His hazel eyes looked sincere. A smile came to her lips. Who could resist such a sweet little boy, she thought. He had such a wonderful disposition to think of his father like he did. A tear escaped and landed on her cheek.

  “Well, as long as you enjoyed it, I’m happy you didn’t bring it home to me. You never know, Ole Blue might have knocked you to the ground and taken it from you,” Cecil said as he threw Danny into the air.

  “Pa, you know Ole Blue wouldn’t eat licorice! He only eats other food.”

  “Speaking of food, we need to get some food cooked so we can eat. Did you gather the eggs?”

  “Yes, Pa, and I put Bess back in the barn. I guess she got out today. The calf drank her dry. You’ll have to milk her in the morning. She won’t have milk until then.”

  Sammie could see the look on Cecil’s face. Nodding to herself, she knew he had turned the cow in with the calf.

  “Is it all right if we don’t have milk tonight or in the morning?” Cecil asked his son as he moved toward the house.

  “Sure, Pa. This is a farm. Things like this happen all the time. You know that.”

  Sammie watched as Cecil turned Danny upside down and tickled him. Danny giggled and flayed his arms in the air. Sammie wanted to go out and laugh with them, but she knew she had to stay hidden. It hurt.

  Waiting a while, Sammie opened another can of beans. She peeled a potato and put it into the bea
ns and stirred them. The crunch wasn’t what she wanted, but it would have to do. What she wanted was fried potatoes and hot beans cooked with dry salt pork. Looking at the meats hanging from the ceiling, she thought about how good they would taste. But it couldn’t be. She had to eat cold food so she wouldn’t be discovered.

  Finishing her meal, Sammie made her way to the door. The cool night was inviting. Grabbing a quilt, she climbed the steps again and opened the door. She waited to see if the dog was around. He wasn’t.

  Walking through the dark, she found a box near the back of the house. She placed it under the window, stepped up on it, and looked into the kitchen. Cecil and Danny were sitting at the table. The blue tick hound was curled next to Danny. Scrambled eggs and slices of ham were in the plates. Sammie didn’t see any bread, but her mouth watered for the hot food.

  She watched the interaction between father and son. Cecil wiped Danny’s face and threw the towel over his head. They laughed and talked. Cecil made sure the boy’s plate had plenty.

  Smiling, Sammie pictured herself sitting with them and being a part of their conversation. Without being able to stop, tears dripped from her chin. How she wished she had a relationship with someone who cared. How she wished she belonged somewhere.

  She watched as Cecil grabbed Danny from his chair and boosted him onto his shoulders. Ole Blue barked and scampered after the two.

  Sammie hurried to another window to see where he was taking his son. She saw them disappear into one of the rooms she hadn’t entered. Running around the house, she peered into the window where a light had come on.

  Cecil was helping Danny put his nightgown on. Blowing on his belly, Cecil let out a long laugh. Danny squealed and pulled his legs toward his stomach. Then, he jumped up and the two began to wrestle. After several minutes Cecil finally had Danny settled. Sammie watched as the two cupped their hands and began to pray. She bowed her head for a moment and then watched as Cecil kissed his son and left the room. The dog stared at the window for several minutes, then laid his head next to Danny’s.