by Fiona Wilde
The boy barely spoke to Polly, and when he did it was with the kind of tone kids use when they want an adult to realize that the respect they’re showing is only forthcoming because it is required of them. When Aidan was especially surly, Polly would glance at his father. But Walt seemed either clueless or unwilling to acknowledge the hostility dripping from the “yes ma’ams” he offered.
But Polly wasn’t about to call attention to it, not with Walt’s belief that a good spanking would correct any problem. In her case, spanking—she had to admit begrudgingly—had worked. She still regretted breaking the radio, and not just because of the potential problems she could have caused. No, the memory of being trapped over Walt Springer’s hard thighs as his hand had peppered her bottom with relentless, stinging spanks would stay with her forever. Of that she was sure.
“Papa said it’s going to snow again.” Kerry climbed up on Polly’s bed and eyeing Polly’s stuffed dog. She’d become quite attached to it, but still made sure to politely ask before snuggling with it. This time, Polly anticipated the question.
“You need to hold my pup?”
Kerry nodded and slid her hand over to draw the stuffed animal into her embrace. Polly smiled at her and looked out the window. It was darker than usual out. The clouds had moved in earlier in the day and now obscured the moonlight. The snow was already drifting halfway up to her window. How much more would they get? Earlier in the day, when she’d walked past a group of residents at lunch, she heard one of the men speaking in worried tones about the severity of the winter and the coming storm. “It’s always been rough here in the winter, but never this rough,” he’d said.
“I hope we don’t run out of food.” Kerry was staring out the window now, her fingers playing in the synthetic fur of the toy dog.
Polly sighed and sat down on the bed beside the little girl, putting her arms around her. “Don’t worry. They won’t run out of food.”
“We,” Kerry said, looking up at her. “You’re supposed to say ‘we,’ not ‘they’, because you’re part of the community now.”
Polly felt her heart twist. She was struggling for a reply when her bedroom door opened a crack.
“Kerry? You in there?”
“She’s with me,” Polly replied.
Walt opened the door but didn’t come in.
“Come on, honey,” he said. “I told you not to bother your teacher.”
“She’s not bothering me,” Polly said, pulling the little girl to her. “She just needed some company.”
“She can have company later. It’s time for her to do the dishes.”
“I’ll do them.” Polly got off the bed and walked to the door, but Walt held his hand up.
“No, that’s Kerry’s chore. Come on, Kerry.”
But Polly stood up. “Since I’m living here now under questionable pretenses, I think I have some say in what I am allowed to do. If washing the dishes is Kerry’s chore, then I can accept that. But I’m going to help her, Walt. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
At her side, Kerry gawked up at her in obvious awe that anyone would speak to her father like that. Kerry did not wait for a reply. “Come on, Polly.”
She led the little girl into the kitchen area of the cabin. Polly pulled out a little apron from under the sink and a footstool. There was already water heating on the stove. Polly supposed that Walt usually poured this into the sink and when it was warm enough she did it herself.
“I don’t get help with my chores.” Aidan’s resentful voice piped up from behind them. “Why should Kerry?”
“All you have to do is ask, Aidan,” Polly replied. “Would you like me to help you with some of your chores tomorrow?”
“I don’t want any help.” He glared at Polly, and she was again aware of how much he resented her presence.
“Aidan!” Walt stalked over and took his son by the arm. “Do you need a whippin’?”
“No, Papa.” The boy’s answer was quiet.
“Walt–”
He shot her a stern look. “I’ve had enough interference from you,” he said and turned back to his son. “Ms. Perkins was kind to offer you help. If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but she’s a guest and I don’t expect you to talk to her like that.”
“I don’t care!” The little boy pulled away violently and Walt started after him. But Polly rushed to grab his arm.
“Don’t,” she said. “It’s not his fault.”
“The heck it’s not. He knows better. And I told you not to interfere.”
“If you didn’t want my opinion, you should have left me in my cabin,” she said quietly.
“Polly, let go. The boy’s got a whippin’ coming.”
“No.” Her tone was resolute.
“You want to take it for him?”
His words chilled her, but not as much as the idea of having to hear an already troubled child made more troubled by unfairly applied discipline.
“If that’s what it takes, then so be it,” she heard herself say.
Walt’s eyes locked with hers. “I’ll hold you to it,” he said. “We don’t play around here at Pepper’s Hollow, young lady. I’ll find some other way to show Aidan the error of his ways, but you will take his spanking, because by interfering you’ve asked for it. Understand?”
She nodded. “Not now, though,” she said quietly. “At least wait until the kids are asleep.”
“Fine.”
She let go of his arm and turned away. Polly’s heart was in her throat, but it wasn’t yet near bedtime and she consoled herself with the knowledge that this would give him time to calm down and rethink the notion of having his children’s teacher stand in as a whipping boy for his son’s behavior.
They’d spoken low enough that Kerry had not heard the conversation. Polly turned her attention back to the child now, her heart lurching with sadness as she looked at the small form on the footstool struggling to heft plates into the hot water. While Polly could understand the importance of teaching responsibility, she did not approve of the gender roles Walt and the others in Pepper’s Hollow seemed so intent on instilling so far as work was concerned. Polly’s father had taught her how to change the oil in her car, change her own tires and had even encouraged her to take an auto repair class so she would not have to rely on a man if her car broke down, or be left helpless to a would-be-rescuer or unscrupulous mechanic. Likewise, her brother had been taught how to cook and do his own laundry. She didn’t think that either she or her brother was reduced in terms of femininity or masculinity.
Polly chatted with Kerry while they worked and played in impromptu game of “I Spy.” From the corner of her eye, Polly could see Aidan on the sofa, watching almost wistfully. But when she turned to look at him he pretended to be reading a book. It bothered her how out of touch Walt was with his children’s pain. Perhaps he would be more open to her talking to him about it later.
Later. She did not want to think that it would come, and found herself subconsciously dragging Kerry’s bedtime ritual out. Polly let the little girl pick out three books: Where the Wild Things Are, The Giving Tree and The Berenstein Bears and The Spooky Old Tree. Polly read them all, and afterwards Kerry leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“I have another book, but it’s a secret.”
“A secret book?”
Kerry nodded emphatically and then slipped off her bed. Polly watched in amusement as the little girl wiggled underneath until only the tips of her woolen socks could be seen. When she emerged, she held a book wrapped in a worn baby quilt. She unwrapped it lovingly.
“Mommy used to read it to me,” she said. “When she left, Daddy threw it in the burn barrel along with her pictures, but I pulled it out.”
She handed the book to Polly, who was familiar with the title. It was Bunny, My Honey, a book about a baby rabbit who, along with her duckling friend, gets separated from her mother. The baby calls for the mother, whose frantic search finally leads to her lost child. Inside the book tucked in the
middle, were two photos. One was of a pretty, rosy-faced woman with long, curly blonde hair holding a younger Kerry on her lap. Aidan stood beside them, waving his arms in an attempt to get his baby sister to smile. The other picture was of the woman and Walt. They were standing in front of a half-finished cabin, their arms around one another. They looked completely happy; nothing in either of their eyes gave any indication of what turmoil was to come.
“Your mommy is pretty,” Polly said.
Kerry was quiet for a moment. Then she began to sniffle. “I have to take her picture out because sometimes I forget what she looks like.”
“Oh, honey.” Polly took the book and put the pictures back inside. Wrapping it up, she put it back under the bed. Then she took the little girl into her arms and rocked her. Kerry said nothing, but sighed softly against Polly’s chest. She was almost asleep when her brother came in the room and climbed into bed. He stared at Polly and Kerry for a moment.
“She’s too old to be rocked,” he said.
“No one’s too old to be rocked,” she replied.
Aidan turned, shut his lamp off and lay down. Polly sat there with Kerry until she was sure the little girl was asleep and then laid her down on the bed. She crept from the room, being careful to shot the door quietly. When she turned, Walt was standing there.
“Are they asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s time we had our little talk. We’re going to go in my room, though. It’s away from the rest of the house.”
Polly followed him, fear and upset dogging her steps. Surely he did not mean to actually spank her. He shut the door behind them when they entered the room.
“Why did you do that earlier?”
“Why did I defend Aidan?”
“No, why did you undermine my authority?”
“Because you’re abusing it, Walt.”
“I’m abusing it? That’s what you think?” He crossed his arms.
“That’s what I know,” she said. “It seems to me that if you’re simply getting obedience of people through fear while ignoring the hurt and resentment that’s swelling underneath the surface, you’re missing the point.”
“Are you saying my kids resent me?” he asked.
Polly looked up at him. She could see anger in his eyes, and hurt.
“I think Aidan is a very angry child,” she said quietly. “I think you brought me into this house for purely selfish reasons—reasons you felt compelled to cover with a lie. You may be able to fool the adults here, but you’ve not fooled your children. They deserve to be your priority. What they think of you should mean a lot more to you than what I think of this community. But you’re so concerned that I leave this place with positive things to say that you’re ignoring the pain in your children that’s glaringly apparent to me, a total stranger!”
“They are not in pain. They are strong. Kids lose parents all the time, to divorce, death…”
“We’re not talking about just any kids, we’re talking about your kids. Ignoring their pain isn’t going to make it go away.” She paused. “ It won’t make your pain go away either.”
“I’m not in pain,” he said, spitting out the last word as if it were a foul thing.
“How can you say that?” she asked. “Your wife left. She left you and she left your children and she left a life that you both obviously believed in.”
“She never believed in it,” he said.
“How can you say that?” Polly asked. “I saw the picture of the two of you standing in front of the cabin. She looked as happy as you.”
Her voice trailed off as she realized with horror that she’d given away Kerry’s secret.
“What picture?” his voice was dangerously low.
“You thought you burned everything,” Polly said. “But some things can’t be rendered to ash, nor should they, especially not a little girl’s love for her mother. Kerry has the book her mother used to read to her, the one about the rabbit that seeks out its lost baby. And she has what pictures she dared to salvage from the burn barrel.”
He turned away and ran his hand through his hair. Polly walked around to face him.
“Mr. Springer,” she said. “Walt, what happened? You don’t have to tell me, but maybe it will help. I know you always feel like you have to be the strong one, but sometimes it helps to have someone to talk to.”
“I can’t talk about it,” he said. “I can’t think about it, Polly. If I do I’ll…”
“You’ll what? Break down? Show emotion? And you think what? That will make you less of a man in the same way it’ll make Aidan or any other here less of a man if he does the dishes, or any woman here less of a woman if she changes a belt on the snowmobile or chops wood?”
“You don’t know anything about us.”
“Don’t I?” she asked. “Then why don’t you look at me and tell me that I’m not saying what you already suspect? That this community could do with a little evolution, that everything is not black and white?”
Polly sighed, and gentled her tone. “It can be hard, sometimes, to see things clearly when you’re too close to them. I came here as an outsider and maybe I have a better perspective because of it. I’m not asking you to agree with my assessment, but I am asking that you consider it.”
Walt Springer walked across the room and opened the top drawer of his bureau. He pulled out a picture and walked back to Polly. It was a wedding photo.
“I wasn’t able to burn everything either. I pulled this one out just as the flames were consuming everything else.”
He handed it to Polly. The picture showed Walt and his wife on their wedding day. She was in a simple dress, her blonde hair piled high on her head. He was in a dark suit. He had a moustache. Polly smiled. The photo was burned on one edge.
“It’s lovely,” she said.
“We were so happy,” he said. “I met her at The Farm. It’s an intentional community in Tennessee. It used to be a big commune, but now it’s just a place for education. We struck up a conversation; both of us were fascinated with the concept of The Farm and intentional communities in general. We had so much in common, so much. I mean, it was like we were two halves of the same whole. The life I’d envisioned for myself was the life she’d envisioned for herself—raising kids in a wholesome environment, homesteading, living off the land and away from the influences of society.”
“We decided that in a world where people spend years planning to live their dreams one day, we were going to live ours now. We knew that we were going to have to be selective in who we brought along, because our very simple model of society included some very hard stereotypes. Men were to be the leaders, women the protected helpmates. The men were to make the decisions, and each man would be personally responsible for his wife and children. We decided early on to sanction reasonable corporal punishment as a consequence within households. We’d researched it and it had worked in the past. We felt that the only reason it didn’t work in today’s society was because women were taught that it was somehow wrong.”
“We got married out there, right in front of the cabin. That was the happiest day of my life, let me tell you. I was determined to be the best husband in the world. But I let her down. I never realized how much everyone here would look to me for answers on things, or how big we would get or how many decisions I’d have to make. I was out of the house more and more, overseeing building projects. Melissa was teaching all day and by the time we got home she was as dog tired as I was. Then the babies started coming and that made things better. She was a good momma. A very good momma. But between the kids and my running the community I stopped guiding her. She was depressed and I didn’t put the two together until right before she left. She asked me one day if I still loved her.
“What did you say?” Polly asked.
“What do you think I said? I said of course. And she said, then why have you forgotten about me?”
“I told her she was silly, that I’d not forgotten about her. But I guess she tho
ught I had because the next day she left. She hiked to the road before dawn and flew out before I even knew she was gone. She left a letter, though.”
He went back to the drawer and took it out and walked back, handing it to Polly. “You can read it if you want. If you do, it’ll make only three people in this world who know how she really felt. I know you think that my wife left because I spanked her. But in truth, she left because I stopped.”
Polly looked up at him. It was none of her business, she knew. But curiosity got the best of her. Reaching out, she took the letter from Walt Springer’s hand and began to read.
Chapter Eight
Polly’s conversation with Noni had served two purposes. One, it had given her some leverage with Walt Springer. No longer could he assert himself as the moral authority in her life when she’d caught him in a lie. She still could not believe that he had made her think that it was the community’s idea for her to stay with him, when he was the one who had gone against the grain of the community to bring her into his home. Walt had at least had the good grace to act sheepish when she she’d confronted him about what Noni had told her. But the fact that he’d been more concerned with his own image than with hers was a fact she was able to parlay into a promise from him that as soon as the weather broke she could leave. The unspoken promise—and another she was equally banking on—was an end to the spankings. Now that he’d been revealed to be as flawed as anyone else in the community, she wasn’t about to submit to him again without a fight.
“Hi!” Kerry Springer crawled up into the chair beside her. It was a Saturday morning, early in the house and the first time since Polly arrived that she’d actually gotten up before everyone else. She’d made some coffee and was sitting at the table watching the light slowly dawn through the lace curtains when the little girl had come in. Kerry was clutching Polly’s little dog and while Polly hadn’t officially given it to her, she knew the day was coming. She would have to leave Kerry with something when she was gone. It made her heart ache a bit, to think of leaving a child who had become so attached to her. Walt had said he wasn’t trying to replace his wife, but what did he expect to happen when he brought another woman into his house? It frustrated her that he did not seem to really understand his own children, and she wondered if he realized what all his shepherding of the Pepper’s Hollow flock was costing him.