by E A Lake
The smile remained, but her head shook, answering my inquiry. “No, I’m afraid she’s under the weather today.”
“Then perhaps I should talk to you,” I replied. “I need to get some fertilizer.”
Her face went blank. “Oh, you’ll have to talk to the person in charge about that, I’m afraid. I’m just here helping hold down the fort.”
A sense of dread filled me as I dared my next question.
“And who would that be?”
“That would be me,” a firm voice answered from behind. A voice that I recognized. A voice attached to a person I’d hoped to avoid for a while longer… if not forever.
“How can I help you today, Mrs. Turner?” the person to my rear asked.
Damn!
I turned and faced my trial. There in front of me, standing upright and looking unhappy was none other than Mrs. Frederickson, as in the wife of the man I had accidentally flashed. Double damn!
“Good day, Mrs. Frederickson,” I stuttered. “How wonderful to see you again.” I wondered if that sounded as unconvincing as I felt.
She shot me a smug look and glanced next to me. “And I see you have your friend with you today. Miss Sunshine, isn’t it?”
I prayed silently that for once Sunshine could keep her clever comments to herself. Refusing to look at my friend, I awaited her reply.
“Hello, Mrs. Frederickson,” she mumbled.
Instantly, the eyes of the woman were back on me. “And what is it that I can help you with today?”
My first instinct was to run, to head out the door and run all the way back home. Besides the task being physically impossible, I knew I had to face her.
“Oh, nothing really. We were just in need of some fertilizer,” I replied meekly. “But it can wait.”
She waved a hand at me. “Nonsense. If you need fertilizer, you need it now. Let’s go see Joel outside. He can help you.”
We followed the much taller woman, her confident strides leaving us trailing behind. I noticed how erect she stood and how it contrasted with my usual slumped appearance. This was a confident woman, one that deserved my respect… our respect.
We saw Joel and spoke extensively with him. He selected 14 bags of fertilizer he said would be perfect, and we followed Mrs. Frederickson back inside.
“Now, let’s see your account,” she stated, pulling a large dull brown ledger book from beneath the counter. “Ah, I see. That’s interesting.” Her eyes came back to mine.
“What’s interesting?” I squeaked, knowing the score already.
“You have one hundred forty-seven credits left on your account,” she replied, staring at me as if I were a thief. “Each bag is twenty-five credits. That would mean you only have enough for six bags, give or take, Mrs. Turner.”
Triple damn; busted! I considered telling her what her husband had said but then thought it better to keep my mouth shut.
“It appears from past entries that you receive about two thousand credits each fall from Mr. Hulton,” she continued. “I could send someone down to his place and inquire if he’s interested in extending you further credit, to be offset against your fall harvest, of course.”
That wasn’t good, for two reasons. First: I wasn’t sure if Mr. Hulton would go for the deal. Not so soon after begging him for a horse and a helper. I was afraid he’d see me as a desperate woman, trying to take advantage of him. If he pulled his corn from my garden this fall and decided to give me nothing to plant next spring, we’d be sunk.
Secondly, and more important, the interest would be too high, I was afraid. I was sure he would charge at least a month additional time for Walker for each month he covered my overdraft. That was a price I couldn’t afford.
“I’m not sure I want to be indebted to Mr. Hulton,” I replied, not sure what to do next. “I just don’t think I can.”
She closed the book and leaned on it. “That’s the first sensible thing I think I’ve ever heard you say, Mrs. Turner.” Turning an eye to Sunshine, she nodded. “Wouldn’t you agree, Sunshine?”
I prayed hard again; just agree, just agree.
“I suppose,” Sunshine replied in an unenthusiastic tone. “I got a question for you, though.”
My stomach fell as Mrs. Frederickson gave her full attention to the girl.
“How come you call me by my first name and Abby by her married name?” Sunshine asked. “I wonder if it’s because—”
“Because Mrs. Turner is married,” the older woman replied. “You, my dear, are unattached. It’s a respect thing.”
“You mean it ain’t because I’m black?” Dear God, why did she have to goad the woman on?
For the first time that I could recall, Mrs. Frederickson smiled. And not only did she smile, she began to chuckle.
“Oh, dear child. Do you think you’re the only person of color I know? Do you not know there are communities of black Amish folk?” She paused, gazing back at me. “I am not here to judge another living soul. It’s not how God wants me to live my life.”
A good explanation to a question I had wondered about since Sunshine’s arrival. Now, if we could just figure out a way to get what we needed.
Chapter 28
We rode in the back of Mr. Freiburg’s wagon, just as my neighbor had said we would. Around us were piled 22 bags of fertilizer, more than we needed but enough to get the job done right. The most surprising thing was that I hadn’t asked or whined or begged for any of it. That pleased me.
“Store credit,” Sunshine said. “Store credit. And you never had to mention a thing Mr. Frederickson said. Amazing, Abby, simply amazing.”
Yes, it was. Though I wasn’t sure if I believed in a God or not, He or She had worked a miracle for us. At least, that’s how I saw it.
Claiming she had the authority, which I didn’t doubt, Mrs. Frederickson extended us credit against the fall harvest. “Just our secret,” she said with a wink. Not to be mentioned ever to Mr. Hulton or Mr. Lasky.
Next, she ordered Mr. Freiburg to load his wagon with the fertilizer and take us home. And as long as he was there, she stated in a firm tone, he may as well help us spread the product throughout our garden. If there were any bags left over, he was to bring them back for full credit to be added to the 147 credits that she said I’d need throughout the summer and early fall.
The last we saw of Mrs. Frederickson was her smiling face and hearty wave as we headed back home from the store.
“Now get back here when you’re done, Joel,” she shouted as the wheels crunched over the last of the store’s gravel driveway. “Don’t dawdle; you have plenty of chores to finish when you get back.”
Somewhere in the flurry of activity, a bag of day-old buns and a large glob of butter in a jar were shoved under Sunshine’s arm. Grandma Miller slipped me a bag of some kind of ground and dried meat, turkey jerky she claimed.
“I think old woman Frederickson must have had a stroke,” Sunshine commented, staring at the thin clouds overhead. “That or she don’t think you’re no threat to her marriage. Which you ain’t cuz you’re such a skinny little shit. The Amish men, they like their women with some meat on their bones.”
I felt a smile creep to my lips. “I think we found a new friend, Sunshine. One that was just waiting for us to show our faces. And I think it’s wonderful.”
With our help, Mr. Freiburg got the rather stinky organic fertilizer in place and was back on his way in no time. I thought about hugging him before he left, but after a moment of thought, I decided against it. No sense in ruffling another Amish woman somewhere.
A large burden disappeared that day, and it felt as if someone had lifted a thousand-pound boulder from my shoulders. The corn would do better now. At least, I hoped it would. Mr. Freiburg seemed to think so as well. “Can’t hurt,” he told me.
Sunshine went inside to fetch us each a glass of water. Staring at the garden, taking in the green plants already doing better, I relaxed for a moment. However, other troubles crept into the corners of m
y mind.
Would the well hold up this summer? I wondered. If we had to replace that, I imagined it would take a lot more than 147 credits — and the extra from the returned six bags. Who would fix it? Certainly, Sunshine and I weren’t equipped for such a task.
Staring back at the house, I noticed the weather-worn roof. That past spring, Mr. Frederickson had said it needed some repair along with the windows – expensive projects for a woman with few resources.
The barn was fine; most of the buildings were structurally adequate. That was according to Brady, but that had been last summer. Were there more issues about to spring up like the ghouls I experienced in my past Halloweens?
Brady and Sasha appeared before me, even if only in my daydream. They were coming home soon. Even if I had to go and find them. But how would I accomplish that?
I was far too weak to walk eight miles there and eight miles back. I didn’t want to be further indebted to Mr. Hulton; that was out of the question. Further, I knew no Amish friend would take me to Rigby. They avoided the place. So that was out of the question.
I could feel my fingers running through Sasha’s long dark hair. I stroked Brady’s bald head and rugged beard. They were alive; I knew they were alive. Perhaps waiting for me to find them.
“You’re doing it again,” Sunshine said, jolting me back to the current day. “You’re pulling on your lip. You’re back in the past. Don’t… Just don’t.”
I looked at her and instinctively reached for the glass she offered.
“I’m going to find them,” I replied. My resolve sounded in my voice. “This summer. I’m going to find them. I swear I will.”
Sunshine turned and walked back to the house, shaking her head as she did. If she said something, I didn’t hear it. I was already back in my dream.
Chapter 29
A week of chilly, windy, rainy weather followed. It rained so hard on the next day of rest that I didn’t dare go out to try to visit Walker. I knew in bad weather Mr. Lasky kept his people inside. Something about not wanting them to get sick, he had mentioned once.
During the third or fourth rainy day, Sunshine and I played cards at the kitchen table. The weather was so dreary that we had to light a lamp to see our cards.
I watched as Sunshine shuffled. “You don’t suppose all this rain has washed away the fertilizer, do you?” Her blank stare gave me my answer.
“I wonder if it’s moving it into the soil better?” I continued. “You know, making it work to its best.”
She laughed and dealt another round. “I told you a hundred times, I don’t know shit about farming. I just do whatever someone else tells me to. GeeMah always took care of the garden.”
The opening allowed me to ask something I’d wondered about since the day she arrived. “Do you remember your parents at all?” I had never asked because she only ever spoke of her beloved grandmother.
She shrugged, studying her cards. “Never knew them. If they were there, I ain’t got no recollection of them. Just my brothers and sisters.”
I set my elbows on the table. “How many of you were there? I don’t think you’ve ever said.”
Again, she shrugged. “A whole bunch, that’s all I know. There was me and Tonya and Charlie and Brutus—”
A chuckle snuck out before I could stop it. “You had a brother named Brutus?”
Her head shook slightly. “I don’t know what his real name was. GeeMah always just called him Brutus. I guess it was because he was so big.” Rearranging the cards in her hand, Sunshine appeared deep in thought. “There was a couple white kids, another couple Hispanics. GeeMah loved everyone. She didn’t care what color they were.”
“But no Mom and Dad?”
“Nope,” she answered, sounding as if I’d asked if she had any eights. “GeeMah said they were gone, and that’s all that mattered. We had her, and she was enough. She died a while back, and we all had to fend for ourselves. That’s when I found you… after a couple years of wandering.”
Sunshine didn’t avoid her past; she instead chose not to speak of it much. Except for the constant quips once spouted by GeeMah.
The game played on, and she won again. She always won. Sipping warm see-through tea, we stared at one another.
“What you hatching now?” she asked, her tone skeptical.
“Someone needs to give me a ride to Rigby,” I replied, sighing after I spoke. “But for the life of me, I don’t know who that could be.”
She wasn’t pleased with my oft-brought-up topic. Her scowl told me that. “You’re looking for a miracle, lady. And I don’t see no guardian angel nearby that’s gonna help you.”
No, there wasn’t. Sunshine was right again. But there had to be one out there. There just had to be.
The rains subsided, and hot, humid days followed. Not unusual, I decided. Mr. Lasky had told us it was mid-July. Even from my childhood, I could recall a lot of similar days and weeks.
We worked our garden, removing weeds and shoring up any plants that looked as though they needed help. I couldn’t tell how much of the fertilizer, if any, was left. The rain had pounded it into the ground, hopefully helping the plants even at that moment.
“I think everything looks pretty good,” I said. “Don’t you, Sunshine?”
I waited for an answer from behind, but none came. “Sunshine?”
I turned to find her on her knees, digging amongst the carrots—or onions. I wasn’t very good at identifying crops at that stage.
“Think our carrots are all dead,” she finally answered, rising from the soil. “Looks like they got waterlogged or something.”
I studied the area she pointed to. “I bet with a little sun and warmth they’ll come right back. I really think they will.”
“Corn looks like shit.”
Sunshine and I jumped at the voice. We turned to find Mr. Lasky standing on the other side of the fence, picking at something in his teeth.
“Those leaves shouldn’t be falling like they are from the stalk,” he continued, pointing at the crops. “And those ears should be bigger by now. You should see ours. Hell, they almost look ready for picking, which they aren’t.”
Making my way outside of the enclosure, I stepped close to him. He smelled of smoke, like a campfire. He noticed me sniffing at his clothes.
“Burning some stumps in a field up north of here,” he answered without being asked. It seemed he was always up to something.
“I think the corn will recover nicely,” I replied, defending myself and my garden. “Now with the sun and heat back, it will grow like weeds.”
He smirked at me or maybe my logic. “Well, you’d better hope so. Cause if you two screwed up your corn, winter’s gonna be mighty long this year. Without food and all.”
Resisting the urge to scream, I smiled instead. “It will be fine. You’ll see.”
“What you doing here today?” Sunshine asked, joining our conversation outside the fence. “Besides tormenting poor Abby, that is.”
He glared at her as if he had something to say, but eventually his gaze came back to me. “Next day of rest, three days from now. You and me got something to take care of.” He pointed directly at me so I would know he meant me.
“And what’s that?” I asked barely above a whisper.
“You just be ready,” he replied, turning to leave. “When the sun’s a whole hand above the horizon, I’ll be here to see you. Make sure you stick your arm way out so you got the right time.”
“Her hand or your big, sloppy hand?” Sunshine shouted as he walked away.
“Just be ready,” he replied. “Three days, Mrs. Turner. Three days.”
He got on his horse and galloped away, leaving us dumfounded and me a little frightened.
“What was that all about, you suppose?” Sunshine asked.
“I have no idea,” I replied, staring where he had been. “But I guess we’ll know in three days.”
Chapter 30
For the next two days, I contemplated what
Mr. Lasky had in mind for me. He made it sound as though he and I had a chore to do. But whatever that could be eluded me.
I worried that I wouldn’t see Walker on the next day of rest if I was busy with some other chore, deemed crucial by either Mr. Hulton or Mr. Lasky. I wondered if it would take all day.
Maybe they had found out about my deal at the Amish store and were upset by it. That would be just like Mr. Hulton, running the world that surrounded his kingdom. However, Mrs. Frederickson didn’t seem like the kind of person that gave up secrets easily.
In the late morning of the next day, I sat lounging with Mr. Frederickson on the front porch. I decided to pick his brain a little, but he beat me to it.
“Sounds like you got everything you needed up at the store,” he commented after a long pause in the conversation. “I knew you’d find help up there. You can always count on your neighbors, you know.”
I nodded and smiled, darning a sock that had seen better days.
“Hopefully, all that rain didn’t wash away all the nutrients,” he continued, smoking something in an old wooden pipe. “I think your corn looks all right. Maybe a little behind mine. But don’t let that Lasky fellow scare you. It should be fine.”
I paused, setting the mending on my lap. “You know it was your wife that helped me at the store, don’t you?”
He nodded, seemingly not surprised. “I know all about it. She told me so.”
I framed my next question carefully in my mind. “You don’t think there’s any chance Mr. Hulton may have found out about our arrangement, do you?”
He shook away my question with a carefree grin. “Hulton ain’t got nothing to do with the store. Just tells us who has credit and how much. Then he takes whatever he can and quibbles about the price.”
That was good. That was real good.
“You give up on trying to get to Rigby yet?” he asked.