by Blythe Baker
“Yep. Any idea where Grandpa is this morning? I thought I could help him with some chores before I head to town.”
“He was headed down to the equipment shed, last I saw. Think he plans to work on the tractor. I could use some help with the garden, though, and I have a little canning to do this morning as well.” She looked up at me as if to see if I would take the hint.
“Oh, I’d love to help with that!” I replied.
We spent the next couple of hours tending to the vegetable patch that was in the backyard behind the farmhouse. Grandpa grew soybeans, corn, and cotton on the farm, and kept a field for hay. He had cows, pigs, chickens, a handful of goats, and a substantial beehive in the back pasture. Grandma’s garden, though, was really just for the household. She grew tomatoes, okra, cucumbers for pickles, carrots, and green beans. She added watermelon, pumpkins, and squash in season. On this particular day, she wanted to can the tomatoes that were at the peak of flavor just about now.
We brought the tomatoes inside and spent the next three hours prepping and canning them. I didn’t seem to have the knack for blanching them long enough for the skins to slough off, so she put me on table duty, cutting the tomatoes up to transfer into the large pot.
“This would be so much easier with an immersion blender, Grandma. I’d be happy to pick one up for you.”
I knew they could afford things like appliances, dryers, and new televisions, probably better than I could. Still, they were famously frugal. Make it do or do without! Grandma was fond of saying.
“Emma! I don’t need some new-fangled gadgets to get my work done! Gracious me!” She shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound between her tongue and teeth.
We saved back a few of the ripe tomatoes, and Grandma sliced one onto a plate, sprinkling it with just a little salt.
“Here you are! Nothing finer than a summer tomato, fresh from the garden!” she said.
She put the plate on the table and we gobbled up most of the slices, though I did slip one or two to Snowball, who was sitting between my feet waiting for her chance to swoop in and steal one.
After we finished in the kitchen, I cleaned myself up and headed to town. I decided to stop by and see Suzy before I headed over to the historical society to volunteer.
“What’s new, Suzy Q?” I asked as I entered the shop.
“Please, don’t,” she said, rolling her eyes at the greeting. “Not much. Slow today. What are you doing in town?” she asked.
“I’m heading over to the historical society. I thought your idea was great – get me out of the house a bit, and the old fort weekends sound kinda fun!”
I plopped down on the stool behind the counter next to Suzy and we started chatting. The bell on the shop door rang, and Tucker walked in with a folder in his hand.
“Suzy.” He tipped his hat to her, then me. “Emma. I was hopin’ I could put one of these flyers up in your window there. Historical society has ponied up a little incentive for anybody who knows anything ‘bout Preacher Jacob’s murder to come forward,” he said, one dark blonde eyebrow jutting up as he took off his sunglasses and tucked the arm through the open top button hole of his shirt.
“Sure, Tucker, I’d be happy to put it up if you give me one,” Suzy replied.
“So, no leads then?” I asked hesitantly.
“No, not yet. Darndest thing. No idea what he was doin’ at the old fort that time o’ night, and in his cavalry uniform too. Mighty strange thing,” he said, mindlessly rubbing the whiskers of his beard with his thumb and forefingers as he pursed his lips. “Anyway, I appreciate it, Suzy. And you heard the candlelight vigil is tomorrow night at the church, right? Service is on Saturday. You two ladies be safe out there.”
He tipped his hat to the pair of us, donned his shades and stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
“Weird that he grew up to be so…” I started.
“Crazy handsome? Yeah!” Suzy said.
“But he still seems awfully…”
Again, she interrupted me. “Dumb as a box of rocks? ‘Fraid so!”
We both laughed hysterically.
I said goodbye to Suzy as she posted the flyer in the window of the shop.
As I walked down Main Street, all the other businesses had the same flyer in their windows as well.
REWARD: $1000 for information leading to the capture and conviction of the person or persons responsible for the death of Preacher Jacob Carter, clergyman, and beloved member of the Hillbilly Hollow Historical Society. Anyone with information should call the Sherriff’s Department Tip Line at…
I walked past Billy’s clinic and the church, the front lawn of which was covered in bundles of flowers, wreaths, candles, and cards, all memorializing Preacher Jacob.
A crayon drawing caught my eye, and I stopped to look more closely. It showed a small girl with an Easter basket, and a man in a wide-brimmed dark hat holding her hand. A yellow oval was drawn above the man’s hat, like a halo, and a cross was drawn in the upper corner. The child who had drawn it couldn’t be older than five or six.
I put my hand to my heart.
Wow, people are really going to miss him!
I continued on the two blocks to the Hillbilly Hollow Historical Society building at the corner of Main and Maple Street.
“Hello,” I said to the woman behind the counter as I walked in.
“Afternoon. Can I help you?” she replied.
She looked over her glasses at me; they had a silver chain attached to them that snaked behind her neck. The glasses combined with the tightly wound bun atop her head reminded me of a school headmistress from an old movie. The woman was probably in her fifties, and her face looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t quite place it.
“Yes. Hi. Um, I’d…I’d like to join the historical society?” Her commanding presence made me say it as a question.
“Is that…are you the Hooper girl?” she asked, after studying my face for a moment.
“Yes, ma’am. Emma Hooper. I’m sorry – I know we know each other, but I can’t quite place…” I began to apologize.
“Sadie Cooper! Remember? I used to work at the elementary school? I haven’t seen you in forever. Heard you moved off to New York or some such!” she said, shaking her head.
“Oh, I did after college. But I’m back now.” I forced a small smile. I vaguely remembered Ms. Cooper. I thought her son was a few years ahead of me in school. She had been widowed before I moved away.
“Well, let me go see if Betty’s free. Have a seat right over here. I’ll be right back.”
She sauntered off into the only office in the place and returned a moment later.
“Come on back, hon!”
The Hillbilly Hollow Historical Society was in a tiny storefront at the end of a strip of businesses on Main Street. It had a small reception area with a counter and several chairs, a water fountain, and a few shelves full of books, maps, and knick-knacks emblazoned with the Hillbilly Hollow name. Behind the counter was a small open work space with a copier and a file cabinet, and beyond that was a small office, a conference room that might hold about twenty people, and a restroom.
I followed Sadie into the small office with Office of the President emblazoned on the door.
The desk in the small room was far too big and grand for the space, and there were two little wooden chairs opposite the desk with leatherette upholstered seats. The wall behind the desk was crammed full of plaques and photos of events at the old fort over the years, some of which appeared quite old. I recognized the former president of the historical society, Buzz Dodson, in some of the photos. The ones in the most prominent and eye-catching spots on the wall all featured the current president, who was sitting behind the desk as I walked in.
“Hello, Emma,” Betty Blackwood said as I entered. “Please have a seat.”
Betty’s hair was even grayer than I remembered. She was wearing a Chanel-style jacket in a dark pink woven fabric with cream trim and gold buttons.
Very presid
ential, indeed, I thought as I sat down.
“So good to see you, Mrs. Blackwood,” I replied. “I was so sorry to hear about your loss.” I looked at her sympathetically.
“My what?” she asked, seeming to have no idea what I meant.
“Well, I mean, Preacher Jacob. He was a member, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, that! Yes, yes, very tragic.” She waved a hand in the air dismissively as she said it. “However, Sadie tells me you’re interested in joining the society, and we have had a spot recently come open.”
Ouch! That’s pretty cold, I thought as she tried to suppress a grin.
“Well, yes. I’d like to volunteer. I think it would help me reconnect with the town – you know, get back to my roots. Besides, I think that Old Fort Days sound like a lot of fun!”
I smiled at this last part and was unexpectedly met with a stern look from Betty.
“Old Fort Days are serious business.” She pointed a crooked finger in the air for emphasis. “Serious business indeed! Do you know how much money those weekends bring in to the historical society? Do you have any idea the costs associated with maintaining the old fort? This office? The grounds, the electricity… Well, it just goes on and on!”
She seemed to have gone off into her own world, and wasn’t talking to me so much as ranting.
“At any rate, some people don’t seem to understand how important that revenue is to the old fort…to our town!” She looked at me, eyes wide, with a wrinkle high in her brow.
“Mrs. Blackwood, I just meant to say that bringing history to life is fun for our visitors, and I would really enjoy being able to share our heritage with them.” I mustered my most charming smile.
Blinking, she replied, “Yes, of course! Of course! We’ve had some very enthusiastic discussions over the needs of the society in recent months. I believe, though, that things will begin to calm down a bit now.” A subtle smile crept across her face. “Here, please take a membership application and turn it in to Sadie out front whenever you’re finished. I’ll give you a call as soon as the other board members have confirmed your acceptance. Good to see you, Emma. Thank you so much for stopping by.”
With that, I was summarily dismissed from Betty’s office.
I decided to take the application over to the ice cream shop and indulge in a float while I filled it out. As I walked across the street, I couldn’t help but feel like Betty was talking about Preacher Jacob when she mentioned recent disagreements among the historical society board. She seemed almost glad to have him out of the way.
Surely a little lady like that couldn’t strangle a man of his size, I thought as I completed the application and sucked down the cool, frozen concoction in my glass.
I looked up as a young mother entered with her daughter, probably kindergarten-aged. I couldn’t help but wonder if it might be this very child who made the drawing for Preacher Jacob’s memorial.
As I passed the church on my way back to return the application to the historical society, I saw Prudence Huffler out front, fussing with all the candles and mementos. I stopped to check on her.
“Prudence?” I started to walk toward her, but her back was to me and I unwittingly startled her, making her jump.
“Yes!” She spun around with a snippy tone, undoubtedly embarrassed at having been so easily startled.
“Hi, you might not remember me…I’m Emma Hooper.” I gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Emma...Hooper, you say?” She paused, then seemed to have a flash of recognition. “Oh, you’re Ms. Dorothy and Mr. Ed’s granddaughter, aren’t you? Of course. I didn’t know you were back in town.” She was speaking to me, but her eyes darted all around, and her hand was affixed to her chest near the neckline of her dress.
“Yes, I came back.” I remembered the lie I’d told everyone and added, “To spend some time with my Grandparents. Listen, I’m so sorry to hear about Preacher Jacob! I didn’t know him well, but he certainly seemed like a good man, and so well-loved by the community.”
She pulled a handkerchief out of the cuff of her sweater – a move I’d never seen anyone do in real-life before – and dabbed it to her eyes. Her face was swollen and a little red. She had, no doubt, been crying since his death.
“Thank you, Emma,” she replied. “He meant so much…so very much…” She looked down at the array of memorials on the ground, then seemed to remember she was meant to be speaking to me. “Well, to everyone in the town. You know, just the other day, I was telling a dear, special friend that, well, you just don’t know what you’ve got…” Her voice cracked, and the tears started again. “You don’t know until it’s gone forever. He was definitely one-of-a-kind, and now I’ll never see him again!”
I noticed the telling slip, where she had said “I” instead of “we”. I tried to comfort her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
“He just, he just…” She was heaving now, each breath labored as her face contorted into a full-blown ugly cry. “He could be so steadfast sometimes. I tried to tell him to take…” She paused and looked at me, as if she had forgotten I was there. “To take care in his decisions. If only he hadn’t gone to the fort that night.”
She wailed, and buried her face into my shoulder.
I was trying to be kind, patting her back. “There, there,” I said. “Just let it out.” At the same time, I had a growing concern that a puddle of snot was forming on my tear-drenched shoulder.
She suddenly pulled away and stood up very straight. “I’m sorry. I’m-I’m so sorry. I should go.”
She quickly turned and walked into the church.
Okay, even for her that was weird, I thought.
Then I continued down to the historical society to turn in my application.
Chapter 10
Billy arrived just a few minutes before six o’clock.
I was in the sitting room with Grandma, Grandpa, and Snowball. We were all watching a game show when we heard the tap on the screen door. I hopped up to let him in.
“Hi, Billy!” I said, suddenly a little nervous.
“Hey, Emma! Mr. & Mrs. Hooper, how are you both?” He gave my grandparents a beaming smile.
My grandpa rose at once and shook his hand.
“Mighty fine, Billy, mighty fine. Good to see you here on a social call, isn’t it, Dorothy?” He looked at my grandma.
“Certainly is!” She smiled, but her attention quickly returned to the TV.
“You wanna come in and sit a spell with us?” Grandpa asked. He had always liked Billy, even when we were little.
“Thank you, sir, but I think we’d better get going. We want to get some fishing in at Ford’s Cross before it gets dark.” Billy smiled again. “Another time though, maybe?”
I grabbed my bag and patted Snowball on the head, and followed Billy out the front door.
He opened the passenger side of his truck for me, and I climbed in, thankful for the running boards to give me a boost up. As he hopped in behind the driver’s seat, he gave me a smile I knew well.
“Now, Emma, I know you’ve been gone for a while, so try not to feel bad when I catch more than you, okay?” He winked at me.
“Oh, Billy boy! Don’t you feel bad when you get out-fished by a girl…and an adopted New Yorker, at that!” We both laughed. The nerves from the front door had subsided a little but were still there.
Come on, Emma! You’ve known him your whole life. Just because he got taller and cuter doesn’t change anything.
I decided to change the subject. “So, do you get to come fish up here often?” I asked.
“Not as often as I’d like. The office keeps me pretty busy. Being the only game in town has its advantages, but it has drawbacks, too, like the long hours. People call me at all hours of the day and night and ask if I’ll meet them at the office to see them about this or that.” He shrugged.
“Oh! I saw Prudence today, out in front of the church.”
“Oh, yeah? How’s she holdin’ up? Not so good, I bet,” he said, loo
king a little concerned.
“Yeah, not so good is right. She was on the front lawn of the church and kept going on and on about how she had told someone that you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Then she cried on my shoulder. It was bad – I mean, big, ugly-crying,” I replied.
Billy let out a half-chuckle. “Well, she is right. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, for sure.” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a side-glance. “Isn’t that why you’re here? Trying to recapture something from your past?
“I told you about the accident. I’m just trying to take it easy and recover.” I smiled, hoping he would take the answer at face value.
“Whatever you say. I’ve known you a long time – maybe longer than anyone outside your family, and I know when you’re not giving me the whole story. But it’s okay,” he said, squeezing my hand. “I know you’ll tell me the rest when you’re ready.” He gave me that smile that let me know he had my back. It comforted me, but at the same time, made me feel guilty for not having stayed in touch with him all this time.
Billy and Suzy had both gone away to college, just like I had. Although we loved our families, and had a great childhood growing up in Hillbilly Hollow, we all wanted to get some experience in the outside world. Suzy had always wanted to be a fashion designer, so I wasn’t really surprised to see that she had opened up her own clothing store after returning to our home town. Billy had always wanted to be a doctor, from the time we were little. He couldn’t stand to see anyone or anything in pain.
I remembered when we were in maybe the third grade, he’d found a bird on the ground. It had apparently flown into the glass of the Stone’s living room window. He couldn’t stand the thought of it dying. He brought it in and put it in a little shoebox. He got books from the library, and even called the local farm veterinarian for advice. He fed it mushed up crackers mixed with milk, and nursed it back to health until, a couple of weeks later, it could fly away. That’s who he was. He was the guy who took care of others.