Mrs. Baxter stood a few feet from the log, her dress hiked up around her waist, her shoes tucked under one arm. The shadows made dark traces on her hair. Her eyes were luminous, as if filled with tears, and her voice was husky.
“I’m all right.” Sandy lowered her eyes and brushed at the pieces of bark and moss that clung to her jeans.
“It is a lovely evening. I just couldn’t stay in the house and let it slip by. I’m afraid winter is coming, though. I can feel it. It’s funny how sad I get when summer is just about gone. Mind if I sit here for a while with you?”
Sandy shook her head, still not looking at Mrs. Baxter. Shep had quieted, but sat alert next to Sandy. Joe’s mother sat down on the log and rubbed her pink feet. “Boy, is that water cold, and my circulation isn’t what it used to be. Seems I’ve always got cold feet. But cold feet, warm heart, as the saying goes, so it could be worse, I guess.”
A spasm of suppressed sobs shook Sandy. She gasped a little.
“It’s so nice to get out of the kitchen,” went on Mrs. Baxter, ignoring Sandy’s shudder. “All this canning and freezing, enough to get a body down. Sometimes I feel like I could run away and never come back.”
Sandy’s head jerked up, and she looked at Mrs. Baxter. “But you wouldn’t, would you?”
“I almost did once.” Mrs. Baxter leaned back on her elbows, looking out across the creek, as she remembered. “Joe was about ten at the time, Jeff fifteen. Mr. B. was the same as he is now, kinda grumpy and mean when things don’t go right. It was a dry year, I remember. The hay burned up in the fields, and the cows practically went dry for the want of grass.
“But that don’t explain it. Not really. I guess I was just ready. You know, you look at your life and you wonder if this is all there is—this day-in, day-out boredom—kids fighting, a man too busy to pay you any mind. You look down at your hands, and the nails are all cracked and rough; and then you look in the mirror, and you get scared because you aren’t young anymore. Those lines are there permanently, and your hair has gotten all mousy and dry from working out in the sun. The kitchen cabinets still aren’t finished. They were started three years ago, and you’re still making do. You never have any money left over, and you feel guilty every time you buy yourself a new dress. Nothing fancy, just an everyday dress. Oh, yes, I guess I was ripe.” Silence hung momentarily. Mrs. Baxter gazed across the creek, feeling the way she had those years ago.
“What did you do?” whispered Sandy.
“Huh? Oh, I up and packed my bag, took my egg money and left, real early one morning. Walked to town. Figured I’d take the first bus that went somewhere. I didn’t care where.” Again Mrs. Baxter lapsed into silence, remembering.
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you get on that bus and go?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It was something I saw.” Again Mrs. Baxter paused.
“What did you see?”
“Me.”
“Huh?”
“Yes, I saw me. Every once in a while you see something that grabs at you, something you don’t recognize, and so you stop and look a little closer—and it’s you. A you that you don’t even know. That’s what I saw that morning. For the longest time I stared at myself reflecting back from that window. I wasn’t pretty—I suddenly realized I had never been pretty. Yet when I was with Mr. B., I felt pretty. Little Joe made me feel pretty too. I realized then that if I left them, I’d never feel pretty again.”
“What did you do?”
“I picked up my suitcase and walked home. I can tell you, I was pretty tired when I got back.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Mr. B. and Jeff were out in the barn milking, and Joe was in the chicken shed. I walked in, put my suitcase away, and started getting breakfast.”
“Did they know you’d been gone?”
“Oh, yes, they knew.”
“And they didn’t say anything?”
“No. I remember, little Joe came in from the chicken coop. He stood in the doorway, just watching me break eggs in the pan, and then he ran in and grabbed me around the legs, burying his face in my dress, not saying a word. That was all.”
“She isn’t coming back,” Sandy said, quietly. “She left with him, and he doesn’t even love her. He isn’t even nice to her. Why would she leave us? We love her and need her. Doesn’t she know that he doesn’t even want her?”
“She knows.”
“Well then, how could she go away with him?”
“Love is funny. It fills you all up and chokes at you. You think you’re gonna die if they don’t love you back. You don’t, of course. She’ll come back, Sandy, and she’ll need your love more than ever. She’ll need your love to make her whole again.”
“I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!” Sandy cried, hugging Shep fiercely. “If it weren’t for June, I wouldn’t care if she never came back.”
“It’s been that hard?”
“Not for me.” Sandy raised her chin, and her eyes blazed defiantly. “I don’t need her—it’s June. They’re going to come and get us and separate us. I don’t think she can stand that. You ought to see her; she looks awful.”
Sandy buried her face in Shep’s ruff, squeezing herself up tight, and then she looked up, fright widening her eyes. “Shep, they’ll take Shep, too,” she whispered. “Oh, I won’t let them take you, Shep.” And she held on to the dog, sobbing violently.
Mrs. Baxter reached out to her, encircling her small shoulders, pulling her gently into her arms. All the bottled sorrow came pouring out of Sandy. “Didn’t we make Momma feel pretty?” she sobbed. They sat together in the gathering dusk, two women, crying quietly in each other’s arms.
As Mrs. Baxter’s warm, soothing voice flowed over her and the darkness thickened, Sandy grew quieter. Then she looked up in alarm. “I have to go. June and Marie will be scared.”
“I’ll be here, Sandy, if you need me. Don’t forget, you have a friend. Your mother will come back.”
“Do you think so? Honestly?”
“Honestly, Sandy.”
They rose together. Sandy felt lighter somehow. She turned to go, then hesitantly turned back. “Thank you, Mrs. Baxter. Thank you for telling me.” She skipped off through the shadowy gray, then stopped again. “And thank you for all the baskets of food.”
She moved on, blending into the night. She couldn’t see how slowly and heavily Joe’s mother moved, nor could she see the worry lines that etched her eyes.
chapter 15
The package was there, hanging on the mailbox when they came home one night. Sandy lifted it off, excitement mounting.
“It’s here, it’s here!” Marie danced in delight. “Come on, let’s go try them on. Come on, Sandy.”
Sandy carried the box carefully, hugging it close. The three girls ran up the drive and into the house. Sandy set the box on the table and looked for a knife to cut the string.
“Hurry, hurry! Why are you so slow?” Marie danced around the table. Sandy found a knife and started sawing back and forth on the string and then stopped. “No!” she said, and laid down the knife.
“No?” shouted Marie in disbelief.
“Look at us, we’re filthy. We will do our chores, get dinner, and take a bath. Then we’ll look.”
“You’re crazy. Let me have that knife.”
Sandy grabbed the knife before Marie did and held it high above her head. “I mean it. We can’t put those nice clean clothes on now. We’d ruin them.”
“I can’t wait. I won’t!” Marie grabbed the package and started pulling on the string. “Ouch!” she cried, sucking her hand where the string had cut into her flesh.
“Come on, Marie. She’s right,” said June. “Those clothes would look funny on us if we put them on now. Come on.”
“Oh, all right,” Marie agreed reluctantly, and then she ran to gather the eggs. Never
before had the chores been accomplished so quickly. Marie dragged June out to milk the cows long before their usual time. The water was heated on the stove and each took a turn washing. Sandy dumped the dirty water and put on some more.
“What do we need more for? We’ve all washed.” Marie eyed the package.
“We’ve got to wash our hair.”
“Oh, come on! What did we buy that fits on our head?”
“Nothing, but we might as well do it and get it over with.” Sandy poured the hot water into a shallow pan, cooled it off, and then turned to June. “You first, miss. Come on.”
After scrubbing June’s hair and changing the pan of water, Sandy motioned to Marie.
“I don’t see why I have to—” Sandy grabbed her not too gently and pushed her head down into the pan. “Ow, that’s too hot!” Marie yelled, jerking her head up. Sandy poured cold water into the pan and then started soaping Marie’s hair. “You’re hurting. Do you have to be so rough?” But the loudest scream came when Sandy poured cold water over Marie’s head to rinse away the soap.
Then, finally, three very clean girls stood hovering over the package on the table. Sandy took the knife, cut the string and methodically folded back the paper. She was too slow. Marie snatched the box from her hand and ripped it open. Small packages came tumbling out onto the floor.
“Now see what you’ve done! Idiot!” Sandy shouted, and bent to pick them up.
“What’s this?” June held up a small package. “It looks like a—”
“Bra!” yelled Marie. “Some jerk sent us a bra!”
Sandy reached out and snatched the package from June. “That’s mine!” The two younger girls looked at her incredulously. Sandy turned bright pink under their scrutiny.
Marie walked around her. “I guess you do need one. I hadn’t even noticed. Did you, June?”
June shook her head, still staring at Sandy.
Sandy ducked her head and started examining the other packages. “Here are some socks for you, June, and some underpants.” She handed the packages to June.
“Where’s my dress and shoes? I don’t see them. Did you write it down?” Marie pawed frantically through the packages.
“Just simmer down, will you? Here. It was a green dress, wasn’t it? And here are your shoes.” Sandy sorted through the packages, making a stack in front of each of them.
June’s pink dress fit almost perfectly—a little big around the waist, but when the sash was tied, it wasn’t noticeable. Pink was a nice color for June, setting off her misty gray eyes and dark lashes.
“How do I look? How do I look? Isn’t it beautiful?” Marie swirled around in her emerald-green dress. Her shiny dark hair curled softly; her skin, smooth and golden, was set off just right by the color. She really did look beautiful.
Sandy was a little envious. “I think it’s just a bit too long. Maybe I can hem it up some.”
“Maybe I’ll grow.” Marie smoothed down the swirling skirt in disbelief.
“Try your skirt on, Sandy. Aren’t you just dying to see what it looks like and if it fits?” June rubbed her hand over the soft wool.
Sandy lifted the chocolate-brown-and-gray plaid skirt from its package. The pleats fell softly as she held it up to her. She picked up the gray sweater, and held it beneath her chin.
“Well, put it on, for heaven’s sake,” snapped Marie.
Sandy hesitated, picked up her things, and went into the bedroom, ignoring Marie’s snort of disgust. She took the bra from its package, adjusted the straps, and held it up in front of her. Then she slipped out of her nightgown, put her arms through the straps, and reached around, trying to hook the bra. Her fingers got in the way, and her arms grew tired; but finally she managed to get the hooks fastened. Carefully, she adjusted the straps and then moved slightly, testing. It felt uncomfortable and tight—confining. She didn’t like the feel of it.
“For gosh sakes, would you hurry up, your highness?” came Marie’s impatient voice.
Sandy took the sweater, slipped it over her head, and then held the skirt out and stepped into it. She zipped it up and buttoned it over the top of her sweater. It was a little loose around the waist, but it fit well in the hips. Sandy ran her hands over her hips, still surprised at their softness. Then she went into the kitchen, smoothing the pleats as she went.
“You look beautiful,” breathed June, and she walked around Sandy slowly.
“Is all of that you?” asked Marie, pointing at Sandy’s breasts. “Or did you buy one of those padded things?”
“I did not buy a padded bra!” snapped Sandy, throwing her head back slightly.
Each girl took her packages and made room for them in her drawer. They didn’t talk much. Each of them dreamed of the places she would wear her new clothes. In the dark Sandy closed her eyes and saw herself pivoting, the pleats in her new skirt swirling gracefully, as she and Joe danced.
chapter 16
Bean season was almost over. School started in two weeks. The girls walked along the road, tired to the bone. They looked as forlorn as the trees by the road, which hung coated with summer dust. It would take more than a late-summer shower to brighten Sandy, Marie, and June. They walked in silence.
The girls passed the Baxters’ and were almost home when Sandy held out her hands, stopping Marie and June abruptly. Her sisters looked up questioningly and then followed her gaze. A black-and-white car sat in front of the house, the word Sheriff blazoned across its doors.
“What’ll we do?” whispered June, biting her lower lip.
Shep’s barking echoed and reechoed. “We’ll hide,” said Sandy. “Come on!”
She headed across the road and held up the fence while Marie and June scurried beneath it. Then she climbed through the barbed wires. As they ran, the three girls ducked low, keeping behind the Scotch broom. They circled around, coming in behind the barn, where they stopped in a thick clump of the tall, willowy weed and settled down to watch.
A man and a woman, both in uniform, were coming out of the house. They paused, talking, and then the man pointed to the barn. The woman nodded and went to the car, while he turned and came through the gate. The girls lay flat, watching his approach. They could not see him go into the barn, but they saw him come out the side and look across the pasture. His eyes seemed to linger on the very spot where they lay hidden. He stood there for a long time, his hands deep in his pockets; then he turned and headed back toward the house. He got into the car with the woman, and they sat talking and waiting.
Time crawled by. The hammering in Sandy’s heart quieted. The warm earth and settling sun had lulled Marie and June to sleep, and Sandy’s eyes were growing heavy. Then she jerked awake with a start. The car crunched on the gravel as it backed out of the driveway. They were leaving.
But they’ll be back, Sandy thought. Oh, yes, they’ll be back.
She waited a few minutes and then poked June and Marie. “Come on, they’ve gone,” she whispered. They crept up to the house, watching the road, ready for flight should they see the car return.
They did their chores like robots, never questioning the need. Dinner was quiet, each of them immersed in her own thoughts. Finally, Sandy said what they’d all been thinking: “They’ll be back, probably tomorrow.”
“Shall we hide?” asked June.
“We can’t hide forever, and they won’t give up. We may as well make our plans.” June started to cry quietly. “Come on, June, we’ve got to think this out.”
“We’ll just tell them that they can’t separate us, that’s all,” said Marie, matter-of-factly. “And it won’t be so bad. At least we won’t have to worry about where our next meal is coming from.”
“I could talk to Mrs. Baxter in the morning,” said Sandy. “She’ll help us. She’d probably take care of Shep for us for a while.”
“Maybe they’ll find Mother for us and make her come back,” said Marie. She caught up a wisp of hair and chewed on it thoughtfully. “After all, she’s responsible for us.”
“Don’t count on that! Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”
That night Sandy lay rigid between her two sisters, her mind racing. Now that she was made to face the inevitable, the fear that had clutched at her heart all summer became bearable, only because she had to make plans. There was so much to do. They would clean the house, take baths and put on their new clothes. Sandy didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for them. She’d show them how well they had gotten along. She’d ask Mrs. Baxter to take care of the dog, too, and see that the cows were milked and the chickens fed. What would become of the animals? Maybe they would sell them or something, she thought bitterly. Her mind raced.
She awoke at the usual time, but turned over and pulled the covers high, trying to postpone the day. The light from the rising sun filtered through the bedroom window and poked gentle little fingers of light against Sandy’s tightly closed eyelids. Finally, she gave up and eased herself out of bed.
Shep greeted her with a soft whine. She wandered about the kitchen and then sat restlessly in a chair. Shep stretched in great detail, yawned, and padded over to her to lay his head in her lap. She scratched behind his ears, ran her finger over his cold, wet nose, then leaned over and hugged him hard.
Marie and June got up without Sandy’s usual prompting. June’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Marie looked preoccupied and somber. They sat at the table, toying with their breakfast.
“When do you think they’ll come back?” asked Marie.
“I don’t know, but it will be sometime today.” Sandy got up and cleared the breakfast from the table.
“Come on, June,” said Marie. “We’d better go milk.”
The two sisters went through the door with one of the buckets between them. They stopped to get the feed and then started toward the barn. Sandy felt a sudden fierce protectiveness toward them as she watched them stop to latch the gate behind them. Then she smiled as they began to run as fast as they could, with Fred in hot pursuit trying to eat the bran.
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