Almost Home

by Valerie Fraser Luesse

  “Well, didn’t anybody look for them?”

  “For a while. But then a few weeks later, a fisherman on the river hooked the very topcoat Catherine had worn on her wedding day, and another one found a silver cuff link with the letter S engraved on it. That cuff link was in the belly of a big ol’ catfish. Fagan Brumbaugh’s great-granddaddy—lived just a few miles down the road—he found it when he was cleanin’ his catch.”

  Anna had begun absently twisting the dish towel in her hands. “Well . . . but . . . that doesn’t have to mean they drowned, does it?”

  “No, honey, it don’t. Sure looks like it, though. That’s prob’ly why people still talk about the silly notion o’ buried treasure.”

  “What treasure?”

  Dolly shook her head. “Now again, this is all pure talk—and it’s talk that’s a hundred years old. But anyway, the very day the couple married, a Yankee bounty hunter turned up in Childersburg. Said he was runnin’ down a river pirate—Louisiana man by the name o’ Andre Chauvin. ’Course, once ever’body found out the Sinclairs had vanished into thin air, they didn’t take long puttin’ two and two together. They’d never breathe it to no Yankee bounty hunter—some lines we don’t cross—but amongst themselves, the community decided Andrew Sinclair was really Andre Chauvin and that he had gotten wind o’ the bounty hunter and escaped with his bride through some secret passageway in this house, one that led to the Tanyard, which would take them to the river. And because they figured a pirate like Chauvin likely had more treasure than he could carry with him on such short notice, they speculated that it’s hidden somewhere in the house or maybe buried on the property.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  Dolly shrugged. “That’s the story the old folks tell. But now looka here—me and Violet made a game outta that ol’ tale when we were kids. We’ve rummaged through every room in this house, lookin’ for secret passageways. If there ever was one, we woulda found it. I don’t imagine any self-respectin’ pirate, what’s done risked his life many times for his loot, would go off and leave it just ’cause one li’l ol’ bounty hunter was after him. If he really was a pirate, I expect he found a way to take it with him. It’s prob’ly at the bottom o’ the river.”

  “Well . . . what about Catherine’s family? Did they just give up on her?”

  “Nobody knows. Presbyterians keep things close to the vest. They’re not like us Baptists. If we know it, we’ve told it.”

  “Gosh,” Anna said.

  “I’ll admit this much. There’s been times—like when our property taxes come due every year—when I wished like everything that we could find some buried treasure on this ol’ place. Bless Si, he’d be perfectly happy in a two-room cabin on a few acres, but he knows I just couldn’t bear to lose Little Mama’s house, so he works hard to keep it for me. We’re hopin’ it’ll get a little easier with the lake and the rink both bringin’ in money, along with our boarders.” Dolly picked up a few stray plates and lowered them into the sink. “But enough about the cobwebs in my pocketbook. What about you, Miss Anna? Tell me all about your mama and daddy.”

  Anna shrugged. “Not much to tell, really. Both of them grew up on farms and never wanted to be anyplace else. Mother never meets a stranger. My father doesn’t talk much, but he’s just this strong presence, you know? You feel like nothing bad can happen to you when he’s around.”

  Dolly nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” She handed Anna the last of the plates and started on the biscuit pan and cast-iron skillets.

  “My mother loves needlework,” Anna continued. “She has a big quilting frame that she puts up outside when the weather’s warm. I brought three of her quilts with me—just to remind me of home—but I doubt I’ll ever put them on the bed down here.” She felt that old familiar sadness as she realized that almost nothing from her old life had a place in her new one.

  “Now, don’t be so sure,” Dolly said. “It might not snow this winter, but it’ll dip way down, ’specially at night, and you might need all three o’ your mama’s pretty quilts. In the meantime, tell you what—I’ll have Si go up into the attic and bring down Little Mama’s old quilt rack. That way you can make a pretty display for your mother’s needlework, even when you don’t need it on the bed. How ’bout that?”

  Anna was smiling, but she could feel the tears welling. All she could do was nod as she stacked the dry pots and pans. “Can I put these away for you?”

  “No, honey.” Dolly dried her hands. “I like to oil my cast iron before I put it up. Some cooks don’t even wash theirs because they say it flavors the food better that way, but I like a clean skillet.”

  There was a brief silence in the kitchen before Anna said, “He wasn’t always like this—Jesse, I mean.”

  “I guessed as much.”

  “Losing everything . . . it’s just been so—so hard on him.”

  “And I’ll bet he’s got no idea how hard he’s been on you?”

  Anna shook her head as the tears began to flow.

  Dolly hugged her and held her tight. “They never do, honey. They never do.”

  CHAPTER

  five

  Anna stood for a moment under the sprawling oak at a front corner of Dolly’s yard, looking to the left and the right. Which way to go? She decided to head left and explore the stretch of road that she and Jesse hadn’t driven. It was flanked with trees here and there, offering a little merciful shade.

  Dolly had loaned her a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face, and she was wearing the coolest thing she owned—a loose, sleeveless white cotton blouse and a full skirt made of feather-light, green-and-white gingham.

  On the porch of a pretty little house not too far up the road, Anna spotted an old woman sitting in a rocking chair. The woman beckoned to Anna, who hesitated before walking up the short driveway and standing at the foot of the steps. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Anna.” She noticed that the woman’s eyes were very pale—cloudy even—and they were staring straight ahead, never looking at her.

  The old woman smiled. “Good morning, Anna. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Lillian.”

  Anna stepped onto the porch and sat down in the rocker next to her. Small and frail, the woman had her shoulder-length silver hair neatly pinned back on each side. She wore a blue cotton dress and navy bedroom slippers.

  “Hello, Lillian.”

  “You’re smiling,” Lillian answered.

  “How did you—I mean—”

  Lillian threw her head back and laughed. “Don’t worry, dear. I know I’m blind. It has been so for a long time now. But the Almighty gives us what we need to get by. I can hear things other people can’t—like footsteps on that dirt road and the sound of a smile. You are from the Midwest.”

  “Yes! How can you tell?”

  “Voices say all kinds of things. How long have you been here?”

  “Since Saturday. We moved into a room at Dolly’s house—Dolly and Si Chandler. Do you know them?”

  “Of course! Everybody on this loop knows everybody else. It has been so for all eternity. I bought my little house from them.”

  “Do you live here by yourself?”

  “Yes. This loop has been a comfort. I like having people around me. What about you? What brings you here?”

  “Work. My husband—his name’s Jesse—he came down to work for the Army.”

  Lillian nodded. “There’s more to your story, I believe. And I divine it to be a sad one. But I’ll not trouble you with the telling. I cannot abide meddlers and never intend to be one. However, I will say this. I believe there is happiness in store for you and your Jesse.”

  “I sure hope you’re right. My mother used to say that I was the only one of her children who inherited my father’s patience. But it’s being tested.”

  “Persevere, Anna, persevere. All will be well.”

  “Can you tell I’m smiling now?”

  “Yes! And you keep on.”

  “I gues
s I’d better get going. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” Lillian said. “See the Mason jar on the table between us?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s the most wonderful honeysuckle vine growing along the hedgerow of that house up there by the highway. They’ve always let me clip whatever I wanted, but now I can’t get up there. I love the scent of honeysuckle in the spring and summer. Would you mind snapping off a few pieces of it and putting them in water for me when you come back by? There’s a pump around back.”

  “I’d be happy to. Anything else?”

  “Just come back and see me again.”

  “I promise.”

  She and Lillian said their goodbyes, and Anna made her way to the hedgerow at the house by the highway. What she saw in the side yard stopped her in her tracks. Seven girls—some about Anna’s age, some younger—were seated on quilts in front of a big cedar tree on the open lawn. They were wearing long, powder-yellow formal dresses, each girl holding a single large, white bloom. A tall, lanky young man with a big camera was taking their picture. The girls kept giggling and teasing him.

  “Hurry up, Dougie, or we’ll all be memaws before you take the picture!”

  “Do you move this slow when you’re rabbit huntin’, Doug? No wonder you’re so skinny!”

  The young man took several pictures before the girls got up and took turns hugging him and kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks, Dougie! We owe you a big pitcher of lemonade.” They looked like something out of a picture show, and Anna was so fascinated by them that she forgot they could see her too—standing stock-still in the middle of the road, brazenly staring.

  “Hey, look!”

  One of the girls had spotted her, and now they were all holding up their dresses and running toward her. Every one of them was barefoot. Though she was tempted to run herself, Anna knew that would make her look even more foolish than she already did. Before she had time to think about it, the girls had swarmed her and were peppering her with questions.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Did you just move here? I bet you’re from some big city up north.”

  “Are you stayin’ at Dolly’s? We’re all kin.”

  “You wanna come to the wedding?”

  “Are you from New York City?”

  “Mercy, let the poor girl breathe!” said a svelte brunette wearing pearl earrings. “I’m Alyce. And that’s June, Jo-Jo, Peggy, Margaret, Helen, and Kathleen. Here, have a magnolia—our way of sayin’ welcome.” She handed Anna the white bloom she was holding.

  “Thank you,” Anna said with a smile. “My name’s Anna—Anna Williams. My husband and I just moved here from Illinois.”

  “Husband,” Jo-Jo repeated, and all the girls erupted into giggles. “None of us has made it down the aisle yet,” she said, “but Alyce, Peggy, and Kathleen are engaged.”

  “Are y’all stayin’ with Si and Dolly?” Alyce asked.

  “Yes,” Anna said. “I’ve never seen a house like that.”

  “Our mothers and Dolly are first cousins,” Alyce explained.

  “One o’ these days, I’m gonna put on a weddin’ dress and walk down that big staircase with my veil flowin’ behind me and get married in Dolly’s front parlor,” Jo-Jo said.

  “I feel like an idiot, staring the way I was,” Anna confessed.

  “You Illinois girls don’t put on bridesmaids’ dresses and run around the yard barefoot?” Margaret asked with a grin.

  Anna laughed. “No, we don’t.”

  “We’re all gonna be in a wedding next Saturday, so we decided to try on our dresses together and ask Doug—he’s another cousin—to take our picture,” Alyce told Anna. “You wanna come with us to the wedding? They’re havin’ cake and punch in the fellowship hall afterward—should be a lotta fun.”

  “Thank you—really—but I don’t know anybody yet, and I’d feel a little out of place. I sure appreciate the invitation, though. It was nice to meet all of you.”

  “You too!” Alyce said. “Come visit anytime. Kathleen and Margaret and me, we’re sisters and we live here. The rest o’ the girls live on around the loop, past Si and Dolly’s.”

  “Thank you again,” Anna said. “Have fun at the wedding.”

  A stern-looking older woman came onto the porch and called to the girls, “You all better get in here before you get grass stains all over those dresses!”

  “Gotta run,” Jo-Jo said. “See you soon!”

  Just like that, the seven girls disappeared in a swirl of yellow chiffon.

  “Oh, wait!” Anna called. “You mind if I—”

  She was too late—none of them heard her. But they didn’t strike her as the type of family who would deny an old woman sweet flowers that she could smell, even if she couldn’t see them.

  Snapping the vines till she had a small bouquet, Anna thought about the bridesmaids in their yellow chiffon. Being the solitary outsider in such a tight circle of girls made her feel lonely. This was one of those times when she wished she were more like her mother. Presented with a spontaneous wedding invitation, Anna’s mother would’ve gone in a heartbeat—and had a grand time. But Anna took after her father. She would much rather have one close friend than twenty casual acquaintances, and she tended to move slowly in forging those bonds. With just one trusted friend—or Jesse—at her side, she could handle most anything, but she had never been any good on her own.

  That’s one of many things she loved about marriage—being a partner and having one. Ever since she and Jesse were teenagers, she had gone anywhere with him because she loved him dearly and trusted him completely. But their hard times, specifically the way he had handled their troubles, made her doubt the union she had believed in for so long and desperately needed right now. She was hoping that this strange place might somehow bring back the familiar—that old sense of togetherness she had always cherished. It didn’t make much sense, but that was her hope.

  By the time Anna returned to the little cottage, Lillian had gone back inside. Likely the late morning heat was too much for her. Anna took the Mason jar around back and hand-pumped some water into it. The honeysuckle looked pretty in the old jar. She tucked Alyce’s magnolia bloom into the sweet vines to make Lillian an extra fragrant bouquet. She could see that the backyard was too shady for grass and wondered why someone so old and frail didn’t prefer to sit back here where it was cool. But then she realized that the front porch brought Lillian visitors and company. She liked “having people around”—wasn’t that what she had said?

  Anna placed the bouquet on Lillian’s porch and went on her way.

  Back at Dolly’s, she stepped across the road to the lake. Already she was mimicking the Chandlers, calling a giant hole “the lake” when it had yet to see a drop of water. Stepping onto the deep porch, which ran all the way down one side of the skating rink, she looked out and imagined a glassy pool. From here she could see several high platforms, with ladders running down their sides, rising up from the lakebed—for sunbathers, no doubt. At the opposite end of the lake was a soaring platform and ladder at least ten feet above what would eventually be the surface of the water. A long boardwalk with benches and a couple of rope swings ran between the lake and a small gravel parking lot alongside the road. Music drifted out the windows of the skating rink.

  “Well, Miss Anna, what do you think?”

  She turned to see Si smiling at her. “I’ve never seen anything like it. What’s that?” She pointed to the high tower at the opposite end of the lake.

  “I predict that’ll be the big draw. See, I’m gonna run me a trolley line from the top of that tower to that telephone pole right yonder at the corner of the skatin’ rink.” He pointed to a tall pole at the far edge of the porch.

  “You mean people will climb that big tower and swing down?”

  “Yep. And when they get to the middle o’ the lake, they can drop off into the water. Won’t that be fun?”

  Anna frowned. “W
hat if somebody chickens out and doesn’t let go?”

  “I thought o’ that. Dolly rigged me up a first-aid kit that I keep behind the counter inside. Prob’ly need to add more bandages to it. Come on in and I’ll show you the rink.”

  Glenn Miller was playing on the jukebox, but the skating rink was empty. “Soon as school lets out, the skatin’ rink’ll fill up,” Si explained. “Lotta the younger kids live close enough to walk. The teenagers all come on the weekends with their dates, but I ’magine the lake’ll bring ’em here all week long.”

  “Well, I can’t wait to see it.”

  Si glanced out the door, which he had left standing open. “Come on out here. There’s somebody I expect you’d like to meet.”

  Following him onto the porch, Anna saw someone about her age walking toward them. She was carrying a tall, flat book of some sort.

  “Hey, Si,” she said.

  “Hey yourself, Miss Daisy. Daisy Dupree, meet Anna Williams—just moved down here from Illinois with her husband, Jesse.”

  Anna and Daisy exchanged hellos.

  “I thought you ladies oughta meet on accounta you’ve both got green eyes, which I find a rarity. I figure you must be soul sisters—two green-eyed ladies from far-flung places landin’ right here on this loop together. You headed for the creek, Daisy?”

  “Like always.”

  “Mind takin’ Anna with you? She’d prob’ly like somebody younger than me to talk to.”

  “Wanna come?” she asked Anna.

  “Sure.” Anna followed her across the porch. Daisy was pretty. She had high cheekbones and ivory skin, and her caramel-brown hair was cut short, with fringy wisps around her face. She was wearing a short-sleeved cotton blouse with little flowers around the cuffs, and overalls rolled up above her ankles.

  “Hope you’re not wearin’ your good shoes,” Daisy said to Anna as they stepped off the porch and began making their way down a narrow trail to the creek.

  “I don’t have any,” Anna said.