“I’m not going to tell you.”
She gazed narrowly at him for a minute and then brushed the feather duster lightly across the front of the dresser. “What do you think of me?”
“I don’t know what to make of you.”
“I know a lot about you.”
“Like what?”
She smiled. “I’ve been talking to your mother. She told me about your wanting to be a writer.”
John-Boy couldn’t tell if she approved or disapproved. She moved around the room, swishing at nonexistent dust.
“I want to,” he said. “What about you?”
She seemed to be waiting for the question. She sat down on the bed and sighed dreamily. “More than anything else in the world, I’d like to belong to this family.”
Again John-Boy was startled by her statement. He shrugged. “You do belong. You’re here. Everybody likes you.”
“Do you?”
The directness of the question took him off guard. “Well . . . sure.”
She stared at him, her eyes sparkling, then looked quickly into the corner. “What’s that?”
John-Boy looked, relieved by the change of subject. “Haven’t you ever seen a dulcimer before?”
“I’ve heard of them. Where did you get it?”
“There’s a man down the road—old Mr. Dawson—who makes them. I never could afford one, but once in a while he lets me bring one home to play.”
“What does it sound like?”
John-Boy hesitated, wondering if she really wanted to hear it, or if she was just making conversation. He suddenly felt awkward as she watched him cross the room and bring the instrument back to the chair. Without looking at her he strummed it softly. Then, in a hushed voice, he sang:
Little birdie, little birdie,
Come and sing me your song,
I’ve a short time to be with you,
And a long time to be gone.
When he looked up she was smiling, her chin cupped in her hands. “Is there more?”
John-Boy strummed again.
Little birdie, little birdie,
What makes you fly so high?
You must have another to love
Way up in the blue sky.
John-Boy had no idea what it was like to be in love. But when he finished the song and looked at her, it was as if he and Jenny had known each other all their lives. For what seemed like a full minute he gazed into her deep brown eyes and she gazed back, and neither of them moved nor breathed. In that long moment the outside world did not exist. Her father was not coming to take her home, all time stood still, and Jenny Pendleton and John-Boy Walton were telling each other every guarded secret of their lives.
It was Jenny who finally broke away. As if her throat were suddenly dry, she turned quickly to the side and swallowed hard. Then, as abruptly, she came to her feet and looked out the window. “Why do they call it Walton’s Mountain?”
John-Boy set the dulcimer aside. Once again he was conscious of voices and laughter downstairs, and his father’s saw began a long, lengthwise screech through a log.
“It was named after my great-grandpa.”
“Oh? Does your family still own the mountain?”
She was staring intently out the window, but her voice was strained. John-Boy cleared his own throat. “Only the top of it and one side. My uncles sold their parts.”
“I’d love to go up there sometime.”
John-Boy rose, but something constrained him from going near her. He took the dulcimer back to the corner. “My daddy wants to build a house up there some day. I can take you up and see the spot. I could do it tomorrow morning if you want.”
She turned, her smile controlled. “I’d really like to, John-Boy.” It was as if both of them had reached some dizzying height and were now carefully trying to work their way down.
“I’d enjoy it too. The chimney from my great-grandpa’s house is still up there. The house burned down a long time ago.”
She laughed nervously and picked up the feather duster. “I really haven’t gotten any dusting done at all. And now I guess I’d better get ready for church.”
“Me too.”
It seemed crazy, but neither of them knew what to say for a minute. Jenny was going only as far as the next bedroom, and yet both of them felt the need to say something about the separation. Too much had happened to ignore it. But saying good-bye seemed to give the event too much explicit recognition.
“I guess you’re goin’ to wear one of Mary Ellen’s hats,” John-Boy finally said.
“Yes.”
“I think it’ll look good on you.”
It was a ridiculous statement and both of them knew it. He had no idea which hat she would be wearing. Jenny smiled, trying to hold back a giggle, and John-Boy laughed.
“Well, whatever hat it is, it’ll look good,” he said, “At least a lot better than the one you have on.”
“Well,” she said with sudden mock indignance, “if that’s the way you feel, John-Boy Walton, I am leaving this room right this minute!” She lifted her head and marched out.
There was a magnificent formation of cumulus clouds piled up to the north. But they seemed to be stationary, and overhead the sun was shining with unusual warmth and brilliance.
John-Boy held Elizabeth’s hand as they all walked down the road to church. He had never enjoyed a Sunday morning walk to church quite so much.
Jason, Ben, and Jim-Bob had gone on ahead, and were throwing rocks at trees and fence posts and tin cans, while the others followed in a more decorous group. Olivia, Grandma, Jenny, and Mary Ellen walked in front, and John-Boy, Elizabeth, and Erin brought up the rear.
Jenny’s floppy hat was yellow and had a broad orange ribbon that was almost a perfect match for the small flowers on her white dress. She too seemed to be enjoying the walk, and occasionally turned with a bright smile for Elizabeth and John-Boy behind her.
Once they were within sight of the church they met other members of the congregation. They exchanged favorable comments about the weather, some expressed regrets about not seeing John and Grandpa coming to the services on such a lovely day, and then they all filed inside and sat down in respectful silence.
It seemed to John-Boy that his voice had an extraordinary richness this morning, and he sang out the hymns with vibrant joy. “Bringing in the Sheaves” and “Rock of Ages” resounded from the church and echoed across the valley with uninhibited conviction.
Reverend Bascombe’s sermon dealt with the house that “fell not; for it was founded on a rock,” and he warned all sinners of the perilous road ahead if they did not mend their ways.
Coming out of the church and into the sunshine, Jenny paused briefly on the steps, and was even more beautiful than John-Boy had imagined she would be. She was the center of attention, everyone inquiring about life in Florida and her father’s new bride.
When they finally started home there was the same grouping, and the three younger boys were quickly out of sight as they raced home. Elizabeth asked questions about the minister’s sermon, and while Erin answered them, John-Boy kept his eyes on Jenny, watching her every step and gesture and the tilt of her head as she questioned Olivia and Grandma about the people she had met at the church. He could imagine no actress or beauty queen or movie star being more beautiful than Jenny Pendleton. The thick tassel of black hair below her hat glistened in the sunshine, and each time she smiled at Grandma or Olivia on either side of her, a shiver of joy ran through John-Boy’s spine.
And then, as they finally came within sight of the house, John-Boy saw the sudden stiffness come into her back.
“Looks like we’ve got visitors,” Grandma remarked.
“With a new car,” Olivia added. “Who do you suppose it could be?”
Jenny supplied the answer, her voice hardly a murmur. “It’s Dad and Eula,” she said, and John-Boy’s heart sank.
The arrival of Dave and Eula Pendleton was certainly no great surprise. But through the la
st two-and-a-half hours, since the moment Jenny came into his room with the feather duster, John-Boy had conveniently ignored the fact. Now, grimly, he realized how foolish he had been. Jenny gave him a brief, apprehensive glance, and they all filed into the house.
“Look who’s here, everybody!” John Walton grinned, “Dave and Eula Pendleton! Dave and Eula, this is the rest of the family. That’s Elizabeth there with the pretty dress. This is . . .”
Jenny’s new stepmother was seated on the sofa, a cup and saucer in her hand. She was a pleasant-looking woman, in her early forties, John-Boy guessed. By the standards of Walton’s Mountain she was dressed elegantly—more like women in the city—in a gray suit and white blouse and silk stockings. Her hair was slightly reddish and she smiled warmly at each of the Waltons as they were introduced. At the end her eyes went back to Jenny and the smile softened.
Dave Pendleton stood by the fireplace, also wearing a suit. He was a prosperous-looking man and there seemed to be great love in his eyes as he gazed at his daughter.
“And this young lady,” John finally laughed, referring to Jenny, “I reckon you’re already acquainted with her.”
Jenny had stopped just inside the room, tense, as if ready for the worst. “You pretty mad with me, Dad?”
Dave Pendleton slowly shook his head, his smile leaving no doubt about his feelings. “Jenny, you’re too old to spank and too young to send to jail. What am I going to do with you?”
Jenny looked like she was going to burst into happy tears. “You could give me a kiss,” she said, and hurried across to his suddenly outstretched arms.
John-Boy felt a little relieved as they hugged each other. No matter how bad things might have been for Jenny, it looked like she and her father loved each other very much. Mrs. Pendleton was also smiling happily, and Jenny kissed her cheek with what looked like genuine affection.
“Sorry I worried you, Eula, I really am.”
“You’re forgiven, sweetheart. We’re just happy to see you’re in such good hands.”
“Well,” Dave Pendleton said, “I think it was more our fault than it was yours, Jenny. We just got so busy preparing for the wedding and everything, I guess you got the feeling we didn’t even know you were around. But we’re gonna make up for that.”
Jenny sat down next to Eula. “I really thought your honeymoon would be more fun without me hanging around.”
John laughed out loud and Olivia flushed. “Have you all eaten?” she asked quickly. “We can easily set two more places at the table.”
“No, no, we don’t want to intrude on you, Livvy, thanks. Eula and I ate along the way. We just wanted to pick up this scalawag here.”
Eula Pendleton put her empty cup on the table and picked up her purse. “Yes, but thank you for the offer.” She rose, but Jenny made no move to get up.
“Daddy? The Waltons said I could stay with them for a while.”
The statement caught both the Pendletons by surprise. Dave stared at Jenny, then at John and Olivia.
“That’s right, Dave,” John nodded. “Why don’t you let her stay a few days. We were just gettin’ acquainted.”
“We’d be real glad to have her,” Olivia smiled.
John-Boy’s hopes rose cautiously as Dave seemed to consider the idea.
“What this little girls deserves,” he said, “is a trip across my knee.” He gave Jenny a stern look and then suddenly grinned. “But seein’ she’s mine and spoiled rotten to boot, Eula and I have decided to open up the old place and stay on for a while.”
It was as if a spring had suddenly been released inside everyone in the room. Even Grandma cheered as Jenny leaped to her feet and gave her father another kiss. John-Boy felt like the teetering world had suddenly righted itself again.
“Oh, Dad, thank you,” Jenny was crying. “And you too, Eula. You’re the nicest parents anybody could have.”
“Okay.” Dave laughed. “Enough of this nonsense. Let’s go take a look at that old barn.”
Jenny turned happily to Olivia. “I’ll come over first thing in the morning, Mrs. Walton. You just leave the breakfast dishes. And Grandma, I’ll hold you to your promise to teach me how to crochet. And I want to help with the polliwogs, Mary Ellen. And—”
“And, and, and.” Dave Pendleton laughed. “If you’re gonna be up to so much tomorrow, we’d better get started with all that dust in our own house.” He put an arm around Jenny. “John, Livvy, I sure appreciate your lookin’ after my little girl.”
“We enjoyed havin’ her, Dave.”
“And she did far more than her share of work around here.”
John-Boy opened the door for them. Jenny gave him a happy, triumphant smile, and John-Boy walked out with her after the others said good-bye.
“Don’t forget your promise to take me to the mountain tomorrow, John-Boy.”
“I won’t forget. In fact, if it’s all right, maybe I can come over to your house tonight.”
“Could you? I’m sure Dad and Eula would be delighted.”
Dave Pendleton was holding the car door open. “Come on, Jenny.”
“I have some work to do this afternoon,” John-Boy said quickly. “Maybe I can make it after supper.”
“Please try,” she said and hurried to the car.
“Good-bye, John-Boy,” Mr. Pendleton called. “And thanks again.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Pendleton.”
John-Boy shoved his hands into his pockets and watched as the car made a U-turn and started down the road. In a way he was glad Jenny wasn’t going to live with them. Now he wouldn’t have to share her with the rest of the family. He quickly pulled out a hand and waved as Jenny smiled at him through the back window.
In the kitchen Olivia and Grandma were putting out bread and pickles and milk. Grandpa was already slicing into a ham, making a sandwich.
“Seems like a real nice girl,” he remarked. “A good-looker, too. That Dave Pendleton always did know how to pick ’em.” He glanced at Grandma’s scowl and quickly added, “Yes sir, that Dave Pendleton’s almost as good as I am at pickin’ pretty girls.”
“Hmmph,” Grandma responded and headed for the cupboard to get plates. “I surely do wish I had as good a taste as you did, old man.”
It took a minute for the remark to sink in, then everyone laughed and looked at Grandpa. He shook his head.
“I’m not goin’ to answer that, old lady, you’re too quick-tongued for me. Here, John-Boy, have yourself a sandwich.”
“Ladies are generally served first,” Erin pointed out.
“That’s right, and generally I’m the first one to oblige ’em. But John-Boy and me, we got work to do this afternoon. Ain’t that right, John-Boy?”
“That’s right, Grandpa.” John-Boy glanced at his mother and held his breath.
“What do you mean, you’re goin’ to work?”
John-Boy started to speak, not certain what was going to come out of his mouth. But his father quickly winked and came to the rescue. “John-Boy’s got a job, Livvy. He’s gotta pick up some things at Ike Godsey’s and make a delivery. I told John-Boy he could use the truck so long as Grandpa went with him.”
The statements were true, but they didn’t exactly give an accurate picture of the situation. Grandpa glanced slyly at John-Boy and took a huge bite of sandwich. Olivia looked at both of them, and over at her husband, then turned back to the sink. She appeared a little suspicious, but she didn’t pursue the matter.
V
Cousin Homer Lee was seated in a rocking chair with a tall glass in his hand when John-Boy and Grandpa pulled up to the Baldwin house. John-Boy waved to him and carefully backed the truck up to the garage.
“Who’s that?” Grandpa asked suspiciously.
“Cousin Homer Lee Baldwin from Buckin’ham County.”
“Hmmph! Looks like one o’ them tent-show actors.”
Cousin Homer Lee had removed his coat, revealing white suspenders with gold clasps, but he still wore his string tie. “Ahhh.”
He smiled as he brought his drink over to the truck. “Good mornin’, John-Boy. The good Lord has blessed us with a fine day, hasn’t he.”
“Good afternoon,” Grandpa said pointedly.
“And to you, sir. And whom, may I ask, do I have the pleasure of addressin’?”
“Zebulon Walton of Walton’s Mountain, Virginia, sir.”
It was clear that Grandpa intended to take no guff from Cousin Homer Lee. The two men regarded each other with smiling hostility for a minute and then turned their attention to the Baldwin sisters. The two ladies came smiling out of the Recipe room, wiping their hands on aprons.
“Why now, isn’t this a treat!” Miss Emily bubbled. “How nice of you, John-Boy, to bring your grandpa!”
“I declare, nobody ever appreciated the Recipe more than Mr. Walton. How nice to see you!”
Grandpa removed a nonexistent hat and bowed. “The pleasure, ladies, is all mine.”
“Do come in out of the hot sun, won’t you all? We’ve just been mixin’ up some more of Papa’s Recipe. Perhaps you’d join us in a sip, Mr. Walton?”
“Indeed, yes, ladies.”
“And Cousin Homer Lee, I’m sure you’ll be sociable with us and have a drop more?”
“A small drop, perhaps, yes.”
Miss Emily rested a hand on Grandpa’s arm and they all moved toward the Recipe room. “Cousin Homer Lee’s been restin’ on the porch this mornin’. You see, he’s been just exhausted by his travels.”
“Miss Mamie?” John-Boy asked. “Where do you want me to put this sugar?”
“Just bring it into the supply room, John-Boy.”
The others disappeared inside and John-Boy moved the fifty-pound sacks to the rear of the truck, then carried each of them to the supply room and stacked them in a corner. When the task was completed he went to the Recipe room and waited unobtrusively by the door.
John-Boy had never before been in the room while the ladies were brewing Recipe. The heat and the strong odors surprised him. The big cauldron now gurgled and bubbled over an intensely hot charcoal fire. Next to it, endless coils of copper tubing were thick with condensation, and a clear liquid dripped slowly into shallow pans. The sweet-sour aroma made breathing difficult.
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