Whistler's Hollow

by Debbie Dadey

  “What’s Charlie up to now?” Aunt Esther said, hearing the truck stop out front. She couldn’t see him from her bed, but she recognized the sound. We didn’t get all that many trucks out our way.

  “It looks like he has a package,” I told Aunt Esther.

  “Run down and see what it is,” she said.

  I dashed down the steps and out the front door. “Hello there,” Charlie said as he lugged a good-sized box up the sidewalk. “You must be Lillie Mae.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you. Aunt Esther wondered what’s in the package.”

  “I reckon you’ll just have to open it and tell her,” Charlie said around a chaw of tobacco. “This here package is for you.”

  “Me?” I’d never even gotten a letter in the mail, let alone a big box.

  “Give my best to Esther and Dallas,” Charlie said, tipping his hat to me after he’d put the box inside the door.

  I looked at the neatly printed letters on the box.

  LILLIE MAE WORTH

  WHISTLER’S HOLLOW

  HENDERSON, KENTUCKY

  Sure enough it was addressed to me, and the return address was from Aunt Helen in Louisville.

  “Who’s it from?” Aunt Esther called from upstairs.

  I took the steps two at a time. “It’s a box for me from Aunt Helen.”

  “Well, it’s about time she got around to sending you something. I gave her a piece of my mind. Imagine taking a mother’s things from a child,” Aunt Esther said. “Don’t stand around yapping. Go open that box.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a smile. I figured it must have nearly killed Aunt Helen to spend money on postage. Downstairs I worked the box open, wondering what in the world could be in there for me. There was no letter from Aunt Helen, but at the very top, wrapped in old newspaper, was my mama and daddy’s picture, the very one that I’d longed for. I guess Aunt Helen must have cared for Mama at least a little or she would have sold the picture, frame and all. I ran up to Aunt Esther’s room to show her and give her a hug. “Oh, thank you, Aunt Esther,” I said with tears in my eyes.

  Aunt Esther sniffed softly. “Well, it’s only right that you should have some of your maw’s things.”

  She took the photo from my hands and stared at my mama and daddy “What a handsome couple,” she said. “You surely do favor your mama, but you have your daddy’s eyes. Those are beautiful eyes.”

  Aunt Esther handed the picture back and I stared at the black-and-white photo. I knew that Daddy’s eyes were the same bright blue as mine, but the picture didn’t show it. I had just about forgotten Daddy’s eyes. I guessed anytime I wanted to remember, I could look in the mirror. I smiled at Aunt Esther and rushed downstairs to look through my treasure box.

  I picked up each wrapped item carefully, fearful of breaking a memory. Aunt Helen had sent my baby picture. It seemed like yesterday it had been in our apartment, but in another way it seemed like years ago.

  Underneath the baby picture was my Raggedy Ann. I held her tight, and then sat her in my lap while I went through the rest of the box.

  Aunt Helen had also sent me Mama’s worn-out purse. Mama had taken it with her whenever she went shopping. Out of curiosity I opened the clasp, but the purse was empty. The hankie Mama always carried was missing, along with the tattered coin purse that she’d counted pennies from. I felt around inside for any scrap of paper Mama might have written a grocery list on, but there was nothing there. Only a faint smell of Mama’s dusting powder remained.

  I swallowed and kept the purse in my lap with my doll. It felt good to touch something of Mama’s, even if it was empty. I checked to see what else was in the box. All that was left were two big bundles of old letters. It surprised me that Aunt Helen had bothered to keep them. I pulled out one. It was one of Daddy’s war letters—addressed to Mama. How Mama and I had looked forward to those letters. There had been so many at first, then precious few near the end of the war. I opened the letter up and wondered if Daddy would mind if I read it. Maybe he’d said things in there that he hadn’t wanted me to see, but then I remembered that Mama had read every letter out loud to me, at least every letter that I knew about. I’d probably already heard this one anyway. I decided to read.

  Dear Patty,

  I mark the days off on a little calendar I keep in my pocket. Every day that I cross away means a day closer to the time I get to see you and Lillie Mae again. I miss you both so much. It’s hard being alone.

  That’s as far as I got. I held the letter to my chest and it burned a hole in my heart. Daddy would never get to see Mama again. I squeezed my eyes tight, shutting out the awful little service Aunt Helen had put on for Mama. I wanted to forget the minister from Aunt Helen’s church with the yellow teeth and the way he’d winced when he said Mama’s name.

  I wished I could roll back time and tell Mama not to work at the factory. But she’d had to work to buy food for us to eat. She had to keep us alive, because we both prayed that somehow Daddy would come home. But it wouldn’t matter now, because she’d never see him again.

  I heard a creak on the stairs and saw Aunt Esther. She was so soft looking in her faded nightgown that a puff of wind would have blown her away, but she came to me and held me in strong arms. That was when I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The sobs came in jerks, and Aunt Esther stroked my hair. “It’s all right to cry,” she told me. “We all need to cry.”

  I did cry. Cried for Daddy because he’d never see Mama again. He didn’t even get to see her laid out in Aunt Helen’s parlor. Didn’t get to kiss her one last time. I cried because my daddy might be gone forever too. I cried for me, for Mama. I wanted my parents back.

  Aunt Esther held me until I hiccuped from the sobs. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent for the things.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Thank you so much for doing that.”

  I decided to read a letter a day from the box. Maybe by the time I was finished, my daddy would be home. There might even be a clue inside the letters telling why he wasn’t home if I read them carefully enough. It was so nice to hear from him again. We hadn’t gotten a new letter from him in so long. Even though these letters were old and I’d heard them before, it still felt good to hear Daddy’s voice, so to speak. The day after getting the box I read:

  Dear Patty,

  Today I saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris. It almost reached to the heavens. Some of the guys went up inside, but I just stood and stared at the outside wishing you and Lillie Mae were here to see it with me. Even Helen would like to see this. Maybe she could find herself a husband here to put a smile on her face.

  Your lonely husband,

  Bob

  I finished Daddy’s letter and I knew that one letter a day was not enough. That night before going to bed I stared at the box of letters and memories that Uncle Dallas had put in my room. Just one more letter, I thought. It was twilight and a storm was brewing, but there was still enough light to see by. I got my glass bluebird from the windowsill. I put it on the bed beside me. It seemed like a way to have Mama and Daddy with me together. Their picture faced me on the night table.

  I had to open a pack of mail that was bundled together with a string. I pulled out two letters that had never been opened. The first letter was a bill that I guessed had never been paid. In fact, the second one was too. I wondered if Aunt Helen had seen them. I felt bad that they hadn’t been paid. Maybe companies made allowances for people dying and not being able to pay their bills.

  It didn’t seem fair that my two letters were bills, so I reached deep into the stack and pulled out another unopened envelope.

  It was a telegram.

  13

  Telegram

  I must have sat for hours looking at the telegram envelope. It was yellow with “U.S. Telegram” written in black letters. It was just a little envelope, but it was just about the biggest thing that had ever happened to me.

  I remembered when Melissa K. Reynolds’s fa
mily had gotten their telegram. Her mother’s screams brought everybody to their apartment door. She stood with the door open, staring at the same kind of envelope. She didn’t open it, she just stared. Mama put her arm around Mrs. Reynolds and told Melissa to run down to the train station and get her papa, quick.

  I ran with Melissa. We both knew something bad was going on, but we didn’t know what it was. I don’t think we could have run the five blocks to get Mr. Reynolds if we’d known what was in the telegram.

  Mr. Reynolds told Melissa he was too busy to leave, until Melissa told him about the telegram. He dropped the papers he’d been holding and ran. He ran so fast, we couldn’t keep up with him. Mr. Reynolds wasn’t exactly a little man; in fact, he was pretty heavy. I’d never seen him run. I’d never seen him hug Mrs. Reynolds either, but that was exactly what he was doing when Melissa and I got to her apartment. Mrs. Reynolds was crying like it was the end of the world.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Melissa.

  She shrugged and looked at me with scared eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Mrs. Reynolds thrust the telegram at Mama. “I can’t do it. You read it.” Mama looked at the other neighbors who were standing in the doorway. All of them looked down at their feet. Mama cleared her throat and opened the envelope.

  Mama read, “ ‘Mr. and Mrs. Albert Reynolds, we regret to inform you that your son…’ ”

  Mama didn’t get to read any more because that’s when Mrs. Reynolds fell on the floor and started screaming. “No, no! Not my baby!”

  Mama left the telegram on a table and shut the door. We took Melissa up to our apartment and Mama explained to her that her brother had been killed in the war. Melissa sat at our kitchen table for a long time, not saying a word.

  Mama gave her a piece of apple pie and some milk. I sat with her until pretty late, then Mama put us both to bed. Melissa stayed with us for a week, until her mama calmed down enough for Melissa to go home.

  I told Melissa I was sorry about her brother, but she just nodded. She never talked to me about her brother after that. I never saw her cry, but she did. Her red eyes were proof.

  Their life totally changed. Mrs. Reynolds wore black and I never saw her smile again. Mr. Reynolds took to drinking and hitting Melissa whenever he thought she’d done something wrong. I felt bad for Melissa. It wasn’t her fault her brother had died.

  The whole war was stupid anyway. Why did anyone have to die?

  That night I didn’t smell or hear anything that was going on in the attic. I just sat on my bed, holding the envelope. Deep into the night Uncle Dallas put his hand on my shoulder. “Lillie Mae, what’s wrong?”

  I didn’t know if I’d be able to speak. My voice was hoarse, but I found the words. “It’s a telegram.”

  Uncle Dallas left for a moment and came back with a coal oil lantern. I hadn’t even noticed it was nearly pitch-black in my room. He set the lantern on the nightstand and touched my shoulder. “Do you want me to read it?” he asked.

  I shook my head. What I really wanted to do was throw the envelope into the lantern flame and pretend I had never seen the telegram.

  Uncle Dallas rubbed his eyes, cleared his throat, and sat down beside me. We sat side by side on my bed for a long time without talking. I felt so empty inside that I didn’t have any words to use. Uncle Dallas stared up at the ceiling. Finally he looked at me and spoke, his voice cracking. “Your daddy was a good man.”

  I looked at the envelope in my hands. It was dated July 15, 1918—over two years ago. Mama hadn’t even read it. She hadn’t even told me about it. I wouldn’t have even seen it if Aunt Esther hadn’t written the letter to Aunt Helen. And Aunt Helen hadn’t even bothered looking through the letters of her own dead sister. She hadn’t cared enough. But Mama had cared. She had loved Daddy so much. The telegram had come and Mama hadn’t even opened it. Why hadn’t she read it? Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she had cared too much.

  “Lillie Mae, I’m so sorry,” Uncle Dallas said softly.

  I nodded and looked down. For so long I had held onto the hope that Daddy would come fly me into the air with his strong arms like he had when I was a little girl. It couldn’t be true that he was really gone. If I didn’t read the telegram, maybe it wouldn’t be true.

  “No! No! No! It’s a lie! It’s a lie!” I screamed and ran from the room.

  Aunt Esther met me in the dark hallway. She looked like a ghost, coming to me with arms outstretched. “Lillie Mae, are you all right?” she asked. I wanted to fall into her arms and let her hold me. I couldn’t do it.

  “No!” I screamed and rushed past her, the envelope still clutched in my hand. Down the stairs. Out the kitchen door. I had to get away from Whistler’s Hollow. I had to get home. Home to Daddy. Home to Mama. If I could just get back home, everything would be all right. I would get there no matter what.

  I ran down the road as lightning flashed above me. I didn’t care about anything except getting home. I ran until my heart pounded in my ears. A huge black car, the revenuer’s car, lurched toward me in a flash of lightning. I turned off the road and into the woods. I kept running. The woods grabbed at me.

  I’d never explored these woods the way Melissa K. Reynolds and I had done the woods on Old Man Henessy’s farm. Before I knew it, I was lost. Shadows were everywhere. I heard strange sounds. I didn’t know if the revenuer had come after me or if it was wild animals ready to eat me up.

  I huddled beside an old hickory nut tree as the rain blew against my face. I don’t know how long I stayed there beside that tree, but my dress and hair were soaked through and through. The cold wind sent shivers through my body, but I didn’t care. I just wanted my family. “Daddy! Mama!” I screamed. “Where are you? Why did you leave me?”

  Only a flash of lightning answered me and I cried into the rough bark of the tree. The lightning came fast and often and lit up the sky. “Oh, Mama, please, I need you so much. Oh, Daddy…” I cried.

  A gust of wind brought a black bird to my feet. It was my black bird—the same one from school. “What are you doing out here in the rain, you crazy bird? Don’t you have any sense? Get home!” I yelled.

  The bird looked at me and cawed. I thought about my own words and knew I was crazy to be out in the woods in a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, but I didn’t have a home—not a real home with a mama and a daddy.

  The bird cawed again. For some reason it made me feel calmer. I reached out toward the bird and said, “I guess it’s just you and me.” To my surprise, the bird didn’t hop away. I touched it and felt a lump in my throat. “Mama,” I whispered. For some reason I felt like Mama was trying to comfort me. I even thought the bird might have been my mama’s spirit come to help me.

  My mama had a beautiful soul though. If she was going to come back as a bird, it would be a beautiful bluebird, not a big black crow. Of course, maybe if you get to come back from the dead, you don’t have a choice. Maybe you take whatever God gives you. Maybe it’s not bluebirds sitting on your windowsill that brings good luck. Maybe black birds bring the luck.

  The rain started up again, this time with a vengeance. The black bird looked at me, cawed, then fluttered off. “No, don’t leave me,” I moaned, but it was too late. The bird was gone. A loud crashing sound had scared it away Something was coming.

  14

  Whistle

  I wasn’t about to let anything get me. I might not have a mama or a daddy, but I wasn’t ready to die yet. I ran. Lightning flashed and rain poured, but it didn’t stop me. I ran until my side ached so hard, I had to stop. I panted and listened. Whatever was out there was gone. At least, I hoped so.

  What was I going to do? Would I ever find my way back to Whistler’s Hollow? Would I die from the cold rain? Even if I found my way back, could I continue to live with Uncle Dallas, knowing what he did? I knew he wasn’t a bad man. But surely breaking the law by making moonshine wasn’t the only way to help Aunt Esther. Maybe I could help him. That is, if they still wanted me a
fter the way I’d screamed and run off. None of that really mattered because I was completely lost.

  The rain let up a bit, but the lightning and thunder continued. The lightning lit up the sky, but nothing looked familiar. I sprawled in the wet leaves and was about to give up hope when I heard a whistle. I scrambled to my knees and listened. Was it a bird?

  No, it was a whistle—long and shrill. Uncle Dallas! He had come looking for me. I hugged myself. I wanted nothing more than to go back to Whistler’s Hollow and get warm. I whistled back, or at least I tried to. My lips trembled from the cold, but I managed to get out a little squeal. Would Uncle Dallas hear me? I tried again. Squeak.

  Unless Uncle Dallas had better hearing than me, he’d never hear my puny whistles. “It’s me,” I shouted. “Here.”

  The whistle came again. This time it was much closer. “Uncle Dallas!” I shouted, wiping the icy rain off my face.

  “Uncle Dallas!” I shouted. “I’m here!”

  The whistle sounded to my left. I turned to fall into Uncle Dallas’s’ arms as a dark shadow emerged from behind a tree. “Oh, thank you for coming,” I sobbed.

  Lightning flashed and I screamed. The dark shadow wasn’t Uncle Dallas.

  “Paul!” I shouted. “What are you doing here?”

  Paul put a blanket around my shoulders and pulled on my arm. His other hand held a rifle. “Come on,” he said roughly. “I’m taking you out of here.”

  I pulled away. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” I screamed. Being lost and alone in the woods would be better than being killed by Paul.

  Paul’s hand gripped my arm so tightly, there was no way I could get loose, but that didn’t stop me from trying. I scratched at his face and kicked his leg as hard as I could. He didn’t let go, but he yelled. I knew he was hurting.