Every Hill and Mountain

by Deborah Heal

  Chapter 9

  The sidewalk in front of the Methodist church was clear, all traces of the earlier cakewalk removed. Unfortunately, this meant there was not a handy crowd there to blend in with. It also probably meant the church would be locked up.

  As Abby expected, the door didn’t budge. John seemed unconcerned. Checking to see no one was watching, he took her hand and led her around to the side of the church. “There’s an exterior basement door. I noticed it earlier.”

  The church’s foundation was made of hand-hewn limestone blocks, another indication the building was older than its facade implied. Matching stone stairs led down to a whitewashed wooden door for the church’s walk-out basement.

  “It will be locked too,” Abby whispered.

  “Probably. Although it looks so decrepit I could blow it open with one breath.”

  “John! You’re not going to break in?”

  He looked pained. “There you go again. Have a little faith, girlie.”

  He started to sit on the bottom step, but Abby remembered she had a napkin in her purse and used it to wipe off some of the dirt and leaves. The steps were small and they were scrunched together, but she didn’t mind. While the program launched, she took the opportunity to lean on John’s shoulder.

  “Do you think it will work?”

  “I’m hoping we’re close enough to the original building to pick up vibes.”

  A blur of images filled the screen and she got an immediate headache. “Oh, great,” she said. “Just like at Shake Rag Corner.”

  John stood and went to hold the laptop against the basement door, which wiggled when he touched it, confirming that they could open it with little effort. The program snapped out of its funk into brilliant living color. Abby was grateful they wouldn’t have to be tempted by the flimsy door.

  It was nearly dark, and the broom Pauly carried was taller than he was. He took care to hold it close to his skinny chest so it wouldn’t trip him on the icy stone steps. The door at the bottom wasn’t closed all the way and he put his right eye up to it and peeked in. Two white ladies with lanterns were fussing over something in a crate. He heard Jim huffing behind him and jumped back guiltily.

  Jim’s black face was sweaty even though the December air was cold, and the tendons on his neck stood out as he wheeled the coal scuttle toward the steps.

  “Get that door open for me, boy. Can’t you see I’m coming?”

  “They is ladies in there.”

  Jim eased the scuttle carefully down each step with a soft grunt. It wouldn’t do to spill coal all over Preacher Farris’s clean white snow right before the Christmas pageant. When he reached the bottom, he went to the door and took a quick look.

  “They gettin’ the Christmas doo-dads ready. We best wait ‘til they go back upstairs.” He sat on the bottom step and opened up his coat. “Come here, boy, else you freeze where you stand.”

  Pauly went to stand next to Jim and allowed him to fold him into his warmth. “Will they have a Christmas tree, do you think? I ain’t never saw a Christmas tree, but Lil saw Miz Granger’s last year up at the big house.”

  “Hush your foolishness, boy. That ain’t for the likes of us.” Jim dug into his pocket and pulled out a baked potato and handed it to him. “It’s still warm. Put it in your pocket, and it’ll keep your hands from freezing.”

  “Listen!” Pauly said.

  Jim smiled and pulled his coat closer around the boy. “Ah, the choir’s done started they practicin’.”

  Pauly burrowed up out of Jim’s coat and stood transfixed as the music floated down to where they waited in the gloaming to unload the coal. The words were clear as the crisp air, sung by ladies with high, pure voices, and gentlemen with low, mellow ones. Although he had no idea of their meaning, the words washed over him, filling him with happiness.

  “What they be singin’, Jim?”

  “That song’s called Joy to the World. Sounds like angels, don’t it? When we get to Heaven we’ll be a singin’ with ’em, I reckon,” Jim said with a chuckle.

  Pauly wiped the snot from his nose and looked up at Jim. “Don’t you know, Jim? Negroes don’t go to Heaven.” He patted Jim’s arm. “Miz Granger, she say Negroes don’t got no souls.”

  “You come here right now, boy.” Jim frowned at him and Pauly was scared he meant to thrash him. Jim pulled him close and stared into his eyes. “You listen to me, Pauly. That’s a big, fat lie, and don’t you believe it.” He shook him. “You got a soul just like them white folks, you hear? Preacher Edmunds need to give you a Jesus talk.”

  Jim set the boy aside, hauled himself up from the step, and went back to peek in the door. The ladies had left, so he opened it wide and then guided the scuttle over the threshold and into the church basement.

  “Come along, boy. See that you sweep up all the coal dust.”

  Pauly blinked three times and then picked up his broom and followed Jim.

  Flashing red and blue lights streamed down into the dark stairwell where Abby and John sat, and they looked at each other in alarm. While John closed his laptop, she crawled up two steps and looked out. One block down, Chief Logan was putting the orange barricades he had used to block off Lane Street into the trunk of his cruiser. Amazingly, all the vendors had cleared out while they were time-surfing. The only sign left of the Salt Festival was the yellow banner overhead and the sound of Eagle Creek’s bluegrass drifting to them on the evening breeze.

  The warm evening breeze. Abby rubbed the chill out of her arms and reminded herself that it was August, not December.

  After shouldering his backpack, John joined her on the step. Chief Logan closed the trunk and got in the cruiser. His brake lights came on, and then he turned onto Lane Street toward them. They ducked back into the stairwell until he was past.

  “Come on,” John said, taking her hand. “Let’s go find Kate and Turner before they report us missing.”

  Abby pulled her hand out of his. “Wait just one minute.” She dug in her purse for a tissue, but couldn’t find one. “I need a second before I go charging back into the 21st century.”

  “Here.” John pulled a genuine, old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

  Who knew they even still made those? She wiped her eyes and nose and then tucked it into her own pocket. John drew her into his arms, and they stood for a moment swaying to the distant music.

  “Can you imagine?” She swallowed and willed herself not to cry. “Can you imagine being told you have no soul? How can people warp the Scriptures so out of shape?”

  “And I thought it was bad when Mr. White told his wife that women weren’t made in the image of God.”

  “You’re a good man, John Roberts.” She took a deep breath and expelled it. “Okay. I can do this now.” She took his hand and they started down the street.

  Patty Ann and the other members of Eagle Creek were just putting their instruments away when she and John got to the square. Most of the audience was gone. Others were folding their lawn chairs or already on their way back to their cars.

  Kate and Ryan rushed toward them, their faces mirroring alarm. “Where have you been?” Kate said, taking Abby’s arm.

  “Looking for clues,” Abby answered.

  “Right.” Ryan rolled his eyes and heaved a disgusted sigh. “Well, while you two were out looking for clues—that’s a new one—we lost our accommodations for the night.”

  “What do you mean, Turner? You reserved the rooms, didn’t you?” John said.

  “Ryan called the Shawnee Chief just now just to be sure. We missed the check-in deadline. They gave our rooms to other people.”

  “We’ll find something else,” Abby said.

  “Apparently not,” Kate said. “We checked. Unless we want to drive 49.6 miles to Carbondale, which would take over an hour. We might as well go back to Merri’s for the night.”

  “You could stay with us.” Patty Ann, Salt Festival Queen, held her instrument case in one hand, while remo
ving her tiara with the other. “It’s not fancy, but we’ve got room for you.”

  “That is so kind of you,” Abby said. “But we couldn’t just barge in on your family.”

  “Why not?” Patty Ann looked puzzled, as if everyone knew that the rules of hospitality included inviting perfect strangers into your home for the night. “My parents won’t care.”

  “Won’t care about what, sugar?” The man in the plaid shirt who had played the guitar next to Patty Ann came up, case in hand, and put an arm around the girl’s shoulder.

  “This is my dad Benjamin Frailey,” she said. “Dad, these are the folks I was tellin’ you about. They need a place to stay for the night.”

  “Okay, then,” he said simply. “Why don’t you go get your car and follow us. Stay close. The roads can be confusing at night.”

  Apparently, the rules of hospitality—at least in Gallatin County—did include inviting perfect strangers into your home for the night. Abby had a feeling the Fraileys would be insulted if they didn’t take them up on the invitation.

  John and the others didn’t look thrilled, but what choice did they really have? “Thanks, Patty Ann,” she said.

  Mr. Frailey was right about the road. It grew increasingly narrower as it dipped and turned through the hills south of Equality. And the trees grew thicker and closed in on both sides of them as they entered the Shawnee National Forest. Abby reassured herself they’d be able to find their way back to civilization with the GPS on Kate’s PT Cruiser.

  The right taillight on Mr. Frailey’s truck was out. Now the truck’s single working taillight gave the impression they were following a motorcycle.

  Kate didn’t seem to be bothered by the less-than-safe driving conditions. As she drove, she filled them in on what she and Ryan had learned while Abby and John had been time-surfing. It wasn’t much. Mayor Windham had not known of any Greenfields in the area. When they changed the subject to Hickory Hill, his smile had grown chilly, and he told them the same thing Chief Logan had: “There’s nothing there for you to see.” Then he had hurried away, mumbling something about seeing to the vendors.

  “What about you two?” Ryan asked. “What clues did you discover?”

  Abby let John field Ryan’s snarky question while she called Merri to fill her in on their discoveries. At least she would have filled her in, except she couldn’t get a signal for her phone.

  John was giving a creative version of their own investigative work when Ryan shouted and Kate simultaneously slammed on the brakes.

  “Geez, Ryan, you nearly gave me a heart attack. It was just a little fox crossing the road.” Kate goosed the car so she could catch up to the Fraileys’ truck.

  “That was no fox,” Ryan said. “Did you see a bushy red tail on that thing? No, you did not. That was a cougar.”

  John snorted in disbelief, but he peered out the window all the same. “Calm down, Rye. We won’t let him get you.”

  “Yeah? Well, who knows what all’s out there.”

  “Well, obviously the Fraileys manage to survive.”

  Mr. Frailey slowed, and Kate followed suit. Their combined headlights picked out a doe and two fawns leaping across the road in front of the truck.

  “It’s a regular zoo out here,” Abby said.

  When the deer had disappeared into the dark woods, the truck picked up speed and Kate did as well. After a few more minutes, Mr. Frailey turned left onto an even narrower lane, which took them steeply down a hill, over a small bridge, and up until the trees fell away and they came to a white farmhouse and an unpainted barn nestled together at the foot of a steep hill.

  The front porch light was on, sending a welcoming beam of light to the driveway. A woman sat on the porch railing strumming a guitar.

  “Great. Now I’m sure we’re reliving Deliverance,” Ryan said. “If she were playing a banjo instead of a guitar I would not get out of this car.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Abby asked John.

  “Never mind,” he said and kissed her cheek.

  Patty Ann was out of her father’s truck and at their car before they could get out. “Mom, we brought company,” she called.

  Mrs. Frailey put the guitar aside and came down to meet them. “Hi, I’m Darlene.”

  Patty Ann introduced everyone. Darlene told them she was an aide at the local nursing home and had just returned home. She was a mature version of her daughter and just as unflappable about unexpected guests, even though she had to be tired. She showed John and Ryan to a room that she explained belonged to Patty Ann’s older brothers, both off in the Marines. Patty Ann led Abby and Kate to her own room and insisted she would be fine sleeping on the couch in the living room. She brought fresh sheets that smelled of sunshine, and Abby and Kate helped her change the bed.

  The house was plain but clean, the furnishings shabby but comfortable, and the Fraileys made them feel welcome. Darlene popped popcorn in a pan on her stove. Abby had never seen it made without a microwave. Patty Ann poured glasses of homemade apple cider from a Mason jar.

  Then Darlene smiled and said, “Let’s go sit on the porch for a spell.”

  They sat in the dark so the bugs wouldn’t be drawn to the porch light—Patty Ann and her mother on the swing, Abby and Kate on wooden chairs, and Ryan and John perched on the porch rail.

  Declining popcorn, Benjamin Frailey took up the guitar and sat down on the top step to tune it. When he was satisfied with its sound, he began picking a lively tune. Then he and his wife and daughter sang a ballad about a girl who refused to marry a farmer because he was too lazy to hoe his cornfield.

  When it was over, they all smiled their approval, even Ryan, because it seemed wrong somehow, in such an intimate setting, to clap. Then they sang old hymns that Abby had heard so long ago they seemed like dreams. She wished she remembered the words and could sing along. And she wished she could play an instrument, a guitar maybe. How freeing it must be to just pick one up and make music without being tied to notes on a page.

  The inadequate sleep the night before and the long day filled with new sights and sounds began to weigh on her, and suddenly Abby realized she was exhausted, even a little disoriented. It seemed as if she had gone back to an earlier, better time than her own. She yawned, barely getting her hand in front of her mouth in time.

  They all went in after that, and she slept soundly on Patty Ann’s threadbare sheets that smelled of sunshine.

  Chapter 10

  It was a pleasant way to be awakened, much better than a blaring alarm clock. Sunlight streamed in around blue curtains, and laughter drifted in through the thin walls of Patty Ann’s bedroom. A nasally voice announced, “This is WEBQ Radio bringing you the Baptist Hour, sponsored by the Otis Carter Hatchery in Eldorado.” The announcer pronounced the town’s name with a long A sound, causing Abby to wince. She stretched and started to turn over. Would it be rude to sleep a little longer? Then the scent of bacon—maybe sausage too—hit her, and she sat up.

  “Wake up, roomie,” she said, shaking Kate’s shoulder.

  She woke instantly and scrambled out of bed, a feat Abby had observed on more than one occasion. “We get breakfast, too?”

  “Smells like it. We’d better hurry with our showers before John scarfs it all.”

  Everyone else was already seated at the table when Abby came into the kitchen, tucking her damp hair behind her ears. “I am so sorry,” she said. “I hope you’re not waiting for me.”

  Benjamin Frailey smiled at her from the head of the table. “Yup. Like one hog waits for another. Come on and sit down before Ryan eats all the biscuits. He just found out what sorghum’s good for.” Mr. Frailey wore a white shirt with a red tie and his hair was slicked back. Her brain finally came into sync, and she remembered it was Sunday.

  “He’s kidding,” Darlene Frailey said. “I made plenty of biscuits.”

  “And, Abby, there’s gravy too,” John announced with something like awe.

  “If you can cook, you’ve got it
made, Abby,” Benjamin said. “You know what they say about the way to a man’s heart.”

  Abby’s face heated, but she smiled and patted John’s arm. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Kate was just telling us she’s looking for her Greenfield relatives,” Darlene said.

  “That’s right,” Abby said. “We’re hoping to find a connection to her ancestor Ned Greenfield.”

  “Well, y’all just come on to church with us, and I’ll introduce you to Brother Alex,” Benjamin said. “He might know, but—”

  “Yes, he might know.” Patty Ann wore a tiny smile and her eyes gleamed.

  “Sorry, but I didn’t bring dress clothes,” Ryan said. “None of us did.”

  “Oh, y’all are fine just as you are,” Darlene said. “Patty Ann, you stack the dishes while I go get dressed.”

  The day was already hot when they left for church. But the leafy canopy overhead tempered the sun, shading the road most of the way. This time, no animals came out of the woods to startle them.

  When they walked into the small, humble building, Abby was surprised to find that Liberty Baptist Church: Friends of Humanity was a racially integrated congregation, about one-third of those present being African American.

  Darlene Frailey had been right about them fitting in no matter what they wore. There was huge diversity in attire. Some men wore suits, some overalls. Some women wore silk dresses and fancy hats. Some wore denim skirts or jeans.

  A flock of smiling women descended on them as soon as they entered the sanctuary. Their spokeswoman was of the hatted variety, a stout black woman who introduced herself as Sister Retha.

  “Now, Sister Darlene,” she said, “introduce us right this very minute to these nice young folks you’ve brought today.” Sister Retha took Abby’s hand in a firm grip and pumped it as if she were expecting to get a bucket of water out of her. “We are just so happy you’re here.”

  Darlene introduced them, and then Benjamin said, “Thank you, Sister Retha. We better get to our pews. Brother Ron is fixin’ to start the service.”