“I couldn’t either,” he says. His smile feels as bright as the flashlight I’ve just turned off.
He invites me to sit at the kitchen table. I’ve never seen Crow in his pajamas. He asks if I want a cup of coffee, and I say yes even though I never drink it. He asks if I want cream and sugar, and I say yes to that, too. Truth is I’d probably say yes to anything Crow suggested. I pretend I know what I’m doing and add cream and sugar until the liquid turns the color of Crow’s skin. I take a sip and then turn away to make a face, unsure how anyone could drink something so bitter.
Before Crow joined the Army, his black hair dropped down into his eyes and he had this habit of tossing his hair to the side so he could see. Now his head is completely shaved, and I miss the long hair that made him so much of who he is.
“I’m glad you came,” he says, as we continue our conversation in whispers.
His grin reveals the dimple he was famous for at Rocky Bluff High School. Despite his mixed race, he played on the football team and was quite popular. The number of touchdowns he got on Friday nights mattered more to the townspeople than who his daddy was. Although, that didn’t mean girls were allowed to date him. At least that’s what Pearl told me. I find myself hoping she doesn’t wake up and find me here or this time will become all about her.
“Don’t tell Pearl I was here,” I say.
“I won’t,” he says, showing off his dimple again. “Best not to tell anybody.”
I nod, thinking about what Granny would do if she found out I was sitting with Crow while he was wearing his flannel pajamas. Not that Mama would like it one bit, either.
“Hey, you want to go out by the creek?” he asks. “There’s a couple of chairs out there and we won’t have to whisper.”
I think of the voices near the footbridge, and wonder if there’s any truth to my daddy trying to get messages to me.
“It’s cold outside,” I say. “You probably wouldn’t want to wear just your pajamas.”
He goes to change. While he’s gone I get familiar with the kitchen clock shaped like a rooster whose tail clicks back and forth with every second that goes by. I try another sip of coffee and rush over to spit it out in the sink. I pour the whole cup down the drain and wash out the cup and dry it and put it back in the cabinet so no one will know I was here. Listening to all those detective radio shows with Granny has taught me a few things about hiding evidence.
After Crow returns in regular clothes and a coat, we go out the kitchen door. Once we’re outside, I turn on my flashlight again. Crow takes my hand and leads me to the creek. He’s never held my hand before and despite the growing coldness of the night my body feels warm. The sound of the creek gets louder with each step and we stop at two wooden chairs sitting on a little rise. When I’ve visited Pearl, I’ve seen her parents sit out here in the evenings. We sit and the dew on the arms of the chairs soaks into my palms. I pull Granddaddy’s coat closer and turn off the flashlight to save the batteries so I can get home.
In the daylight, this is a beautiful spot and even now the sound is beautiful, a trickling melody flowing between river rock. We don’t have to whisper any longer, but the words have escaped us.
Finally, it is Crow who speaks first. “I don’t want to go back,” he says, as though the darkness has invited honesty.
“What?” I say, unable to hide my surprise. “I thought you liked the Army.”
“I like getting paid,” he says. His words have a smile in them, even though I can’t see it.
“Don’t you like going to new places?” I ask, thinking I would sign up this minute if I could.
“Not really,” he says. “I’d rather be right here in Katy’s Ridge. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. I don’t look forward to leaving tomorrow.”
The dream Pearl and I have had forever is that Crow comes with us to live in a big city where we would all live together. A dream from which I now feel rudely awakened. How are Crow and I going to end up together if he never wants to leave Katy’s Ridge? All of a sudden I wish I was home and in my bed. This day has gone on too long. But at the same time, I like sitting with him here in the dark.
“How long do you have left?” I ask.
“Another year,” he says, like a year is a long time away from home. “Why couldn’t you sleep?” he asks.
I pause, feeling protective of Mama, but then remember that all the Sectors know.
“I just found out about Mama and Miss Blackstone,” I say. “Actually, I found out accidentally. I was spying on them and saw them kiss.”
Something about the near total darkness of the new moon invites confessions, and I wonder what he would confess to me if he had a chance. But perhaps he already has, about wanting to stay in Katy’s Ridge forever.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Well, not okay enough to sleep,” I say, with a short laugh.
The darkness is like wearing a blindfold, and I wish I could see his face to see his reaction to my words. Instead, I can only feel the nearness of him—the warmth of our arms sitting close to each other on the chairs.
“Your mama and Bee are good people,” he says. “I don’t see any harm in them loving each other.”
“But what will people say?” I ask.
He pauses, and I wonder if he’s upset with me. “Do you know how many people like me there are in the Army?” he asks. “Half-Cherokee and half-white? If I cared what people said, I’d be miserable.”
He moves his arm, and I feel his warmth go away. “But how do you not care?” I ask, my question genuine. “I care if people like my singing. I care if people might judge Mama and treat her badly. Aren’t those normal things to care about?”
His warmth returns and, even wearing a coat, the hairs on my arms reach toward his.
“I don’t pretend to have any answers, Lily.” His voice softens. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, is all. People can be mean, so you got to at least pretend that you don’t care. Otherwise, it lets the mean people win.”
I wonder if it’s true that my father was famous for his meanness. At least his sister thinks so. I won’t confess any of this new information to Crow tonight. What he might think is another thing I care about. Not that he would judge me for it. At least I don’t think so. I also won’t tell him about the whispers near the footbridge. This seems too crazy to confess to anyone, much less someone I want to like me.
In the cool darkness, his fingers reach toward mine. We clasp hands with intertwining fingers, and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. Not that I’m scared. It’s more like I’m too excited to sit still, and at the same time don’t want to move. We listen to the sound of a mountain stream singing its song in the middle of the night. Crow is eighteen and feels a world older than me. While I have only been as far as Rocky Bluff, he’s left Katy’s Ridge. He’s been on a plane. He’s flown to other countries. Even Melody Monroe went to Louisville, Kentucky to live with her aunt. It’s hard to imagine that all Crow wants to do after seeing the world is come home to boring Katy’s Ridge.
The new moon peeks through the trees. My face is cold compared to the warmth of Crow’s hand. I’ve waited for years for him to realize he loves me. But none of that matters if it means I have to live in Katy’s Ridge forever. A thought that causes my throat to tighten.
I hope Mama doesn’t wake up to find me gone. I should have left a note just in case. I wouldn’t want to worry her. But she was exhausted when she went to bed, so I doubt she’ll wake up before morning.
“I’d better get back,” I say.
He releases my hand so quickly I have to resist reaching for it.
“Try not to give your mama a hard time,” he says, as though finishing all he meant to say. “Bee’s a good person.”
He stands, his shape towering over me like a mountain.
“I do want Mama to have someone in her life who loves her,” I say. “I just don’t want her to get hurt.”
“We all get hurt,” he says. “No way to avoid
it.”
Crow acts more mature since he went away, and I wonder if that’s what happens when you enlist in the Army.
“Let me walk you to the road,” he says.
The flashlight stays in my coat pocket. We’ve made peace with the darkness, and I can make out the shapes of things now. In the span of an hour, I’ve become a nocturnal animal.
After hearing my footsteps alone on the way here, it is intriguing to get in step with another person. At the paved road, we stop. Given he’s going to leave for Korea tomorrow, we have goodbyes to say. However, we both appear too awkward to say them. Crow pats me on the shoulder and says he’ll see me later, and I repeat the same thing back to him. It’s the best we can do and it will have to be enough.
As I walk toward the house, the night feels colder. I pull Granddaddy’s jacket close, and wish for about the hundredth time that I had known him. I turn on the flashlight again, letting it lead me home. In the quietness, I remember the feeling of Crow’s hand in mine. I’ve never held hands with a boy. A boy who is almost a man.
When I pass the boulder, the whispers call for me again. If my father has something to say to me, he will have to wait. All I can think about is sleep.
As I climb the hill to our house, I notice every light is on. Mama is standing on the porch looking frantic, a flashlight in her hand. It is only then that I realize how much trouble I am in.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Wildflower
The light from the other flashlight bounces up the hill. It is Lily. My relief comes out as anger.
“You scared the life out of me,” I say, when Lily reaches the porch. “Where have you been?” I clutch the top of my robe, suddenly feeling the cold air again. “Were you at Melody’s?”
“I was at Pearl’s,” Lily says, avoiding looking at me, which means there’s more to the story than she’s saying. “Why would you think I was at Melody’s?” she asks.
I pause. I don’t have an answer, except that my worst fear was that Lily was already in Kentucky.
She steps inside the house and leaves her shoes at the door. Inside, she tosses Daddy’s coat onto the back of the sofa. I resist yelling at her to put away her things.
“By my watch, it’s three in the morning,” I say, following her into the kitchen. “What were you doing at Pearl’s? I woke up at 1 o’clock and couldn’t find you.”
Mama stands at the kitchen table, where she’s been holding a prayer meeting all by herself.
“I made coffee,” she says to me. Then she stands and gives Lily a look like she’s glad she’s not her. It is unlike Mama to stay out of things, but I’m glad she is. “I’m going back to bed,” she adds, and closes the door so Lily and I can talk.
“Was Pearl up in the middle of the night?” I ask.
Without answering, Lily gets a glass of milk from the refrigerator, drinks it down and then places the glass in the sink. She seems tired, but also distracted. Not to mention, silent.
“I don’t care how angry you are,” I begin again. “That gives you no excuse for taking off in the middle of the night without leaving a note.”
“I’m not angry at you,” she says.
“Then why would you go to Pearl’s?” I ask.
Lily hesitates. Her shoulders drop. “Don’t get mad,” she says.
I wait. Anytime a conversation is prefaced with don’t get mad, I know it’s something guaranteed to anger me.
“I was actually talking to Crow,” she says.
“In the middle of the night?” My voice reaches toward a shriek, and I sound like Mama.
Lily turns to face me. “I couldn’t sleep after all that happened yesterday, so I went to see Pearl but she was sleeping.” Lily’s words race to explain. “But then I saw Crow was in the kitchen so I knocked on the window, and he invited me in. He was having trouble sleeping, too.”
“What did you two do?” I forget how much I like Crow, and that I’ve known him since he was a baby. He is a man now. Eighteen years old while Lily is fourteen.
“We just talked.” Lily’s cheeks flush.
I tell myself not to overreact, and my worry returns about history repeating itself. Until now, it never occurred to me how much I fear Lily finding herself with a baby at fourteen. I stand and go to the sink, washing her glass, not knowing what else to do.
“What did you talk about?” I ask, trying to stay calm.
“We talked about how lucky you are to have Bee,” Lily says. “And about how it doesn’t matter what people say. And how everybody gets hurt, whether we want to or not.”
“You talked about all that?” I ask.
“That, and about how he can’t wait to get back to Katy’s Ridge.” Lily sits at the table. She seems to have matured overnight. For a few seconds, I get a secret sense that somehow life will be kind to her.
“I was selfish for wanting things different,” Lily says, looking at me.
“Selfish?” I ask.
“You should get to love whoever you want to,” she says, as though convinced.
Lily stands, and I wonder if I imagined what she just said. She tells me she has to go to bed, and kisses me on the cheek before leaving the kitchen. I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit back at the kitchen table. I feel grateful to Crow, and really all of the Sectors. I allow myself to fantasize about it being a different world, where Bee and I don’t have to pretend we’re only friends.
For years, I’ve feared what might happen if Lily found out. By the time I went to bed last night I had decided that she would warm to Bee eventually, if we were patient and lucky. It never occurred to me that her acceptance might come so fast, though it sounds like Crow’s response helped. Of course, her understanding could also be short-lived.
While searching for Lily, I questioned whether I should break it off with Bee. That seemed the safest thing to do. I have a business here, and if anybody else finds out, I could lose it. I know these people. It took them nearly a decade to grant me eye contact after Lily was born. Then I remember my next set of worries: Melody Monroe. I want her to leave. Sooner rather than later. And if she comes near Lily again, Mama won’t be the only one looking for the shotgun.
After the sun comes up, Mama comes into the kitchen where I remain sitting.
“Louisa May, did you not go back to bed?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say.
Mama puts on her apron, as she does first thing every morning, and sits in her place at the table. I pour her a cup of warmed over coffee and place it in front of her. A cat scratches at the kitchen door, as if noting that the McAllister Diner is now open.
“Will you let Pumpkin in?” she asks.
“I thought you hated cats,” I say, remembering a time when she threatened to drown them all.
“I do,” she says. “But this old boy and I have become friends.”
Secrets everywhere, I say to myself, including my own.
Mama drinks her coffee without speaking as Pumpkin sits in her lap. When you’ve spent your whole life with someone, surprises are rare.
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Mama says.
It isn’t like her to notice my quietness.
The cat arches his boney backside and lifts his rump to enjoy the last benefits of Mama stroking him. Pumpkin and I exchange a look, and I can almost hear him bragging about how he won her over.
“How did your talk go last night? Before Lily pulled her disappearing act.”
Directness is not like Mama.
“It went okay,” I say.
She knows better than to ask me details. We McAllisters aren’t big talkers.
“Where was she last night?” she asks.
“She was with Pearl,” I say, deciding a half-lie is better than the truth in this instance.
“Growing pains?” To Mama, no matter what age you are, every problem in life has something to do with growing pains.
“In a way,” I say, thinking that Lily has certainly grown in knowledge about me and Bee.
/> Mama lowers her voice. “Is it about that Melody woman?”
I pause. “I went to see her yesterday morning.”
Mama stands, dumping Pumpkin off her lap. He lands on his feet, but looks up at her like he should have known not to trust her. She opens the kitchen door and shoos him outside. He turns and looks at her with what I take as disgust.
“You went to visit that woman?” Mama says, now standing over me.
Mama is not an overly large woman, but the force of her question causes me to scoot back in my chair.
“This isn’t the day to test me, Mama.”
Our eyes lock, like our horns have plenty of times. But neither of us wants to fight.
She backs off and sits in her chair.
“I went to ask Melody what she was going to tell Lily.”
“What did she say?” Mama asks.
“She said she wouldn’t tell Lily anything unless Lily asks.”
“And you think Lily won’t ask?”
I sigh.
Despite Mama’s grumbling, I don’t have the energy to tell her that Lily skipped school yesterday and that she’s already talked to Melody. Nor will I tell her what Lily saw at the mill.
“I don’t understand why Melody Monroe would show up in the first place,” Mama says. “Is that place of hers even livable?”
“Barely,” I say. “You should see it, Mama. It’s so small and sad. I can’t believe a whole family used to live there.”
Mama nods. “Mabel Monroe used to take in people’s laundry, and they sold practically everything they had just to get by. Your Daddy would drop things by to help out. He even gave them two good laying hens,” she continues. “Arthur worked for a while at the mill, but he only came half the time, so Joseph had to let him go.”
This is the most I’ve ever heard Mama say about the Monroe family.
“What else did Melody say?” she asks.
I hesitate, wondering how much to tell her. “She wants Lily to visit Kentucky. Evidently her aunt sent money so Melody and Lily could go back on the bus.”
“Over my dead body,” Mama says. “Don’t you dare let that child go anywhere near those people.”
Lily's Song Page 14