Wonderland Creek Part 27

"Tell you what. I'll come back while you're gone and take care of it. I'll check the attic, too. Is that okay, Miss Lillie?"

I turned around to see her hobbling into the foyer behind me. I was very glad that she hadn't caught us smooching in the non-fiction room or the kitchen.

"Is what okay, honey?" she asked.

"Alice wants me to get the bat out of her bedroom."

"We've always had bats. They don't bother n.o.body."

"Alice doesn't like them. She says she wants me to get rid of it."

"Do what she wants, then." Lillie shrugged and hobbled toward the kitchen, leaning on her cane.

Ike needed to leave. He was much too attractive, and I was much too attracted to him. I had work to do. "I'm going to go help Lillie now," I said, sidling away from him. "You can't watch me work anymore. Sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too. When can I see you again?"

I had been thinking about Maggie's loss of faith before Ike had arrived, and I suddenly had another thought. "Do you ever go to church, Ike?"

"I have been known to go. Why?"

"It's Easter Sunday this weekend. I would like to attend church, but I don't know where to find one. And even if I did find one, I have no way of getting there."

"I'll take you-if you don't mind riding in my truck again."

Beggars couldn't be choosers. "I don't mind. Thanks. And I'll be happy to help pay for your gasoline, too."

"How about if we go to that little church where the wedding was?"

"Wonderful. See you on Sunday?"

"Right. See you, gorgeous."

I invited Miss Lillie to come with us on Sunday, but she declined. "Big trip like that would be too much for me, honey. But you go ahead. I'll be fine."

I rose with the rooster on Sunday morning, excited about finally attending church after all these weeks. My parents would be horrified if they knew how many Sundays I had missed. Father would say that the people in Acorn had been a bad influence on me-although I would have argued that in many ways they had been a very good influence on me. I certainly had worked harder than ever before in my life, and most of the work had been for the sake of other people. And I seemed to pray more and think about G.o.d more than I did at home.

I waited on the library porch for Ike to arrive so we could make a quick getaway. He pulled me close on the seat beside him and drove through the vibrant spring-green hills and valleys with his arm around me. When we arrived, he helped me down from the truck yet didn't release my hand. "You can't hold my hand in church, Ike," I whispered as we walked toward the church door.

"Why not?"

"It isn't appropriate." I didn't want to mention that the warmth of his touch would have been much too distracting.

I would describe the simple church service as "lively" and quite unlike the stately, dignified Easter services I was accustomed to back home. It included much more singing than ours did, and the congregation might have taken the biblical command to "make a joyful noise" a bit too literally.

"I should have brought along my fiddle," Ike whispered. It wouldn't have been at all out of place in this rollicking Easter celebration.

It seemed strange to be in church after so much time. Everyone was so joyful as they praised the Lord, and I felt as though I had played hooky from school for too long and needed to catch up. I missed my father's calm, thoughtful preaching. This minister yelled his entire sermon, as if the congregation was hard of hearing. I missed my mother and the sound of her clear alto voice singing alongside me. And even though the congregation back home irritated me at times with their plodding, intrusive ways, I missed them, too. I knew all of the people in their customary pews by name. Here I was a stranger. And homesick.

"Happy Easter, Alice," Ike said afterward, when we'd climbed into his truck. "Let's celebrate." Before I could stop him, he leaned close to kiss me. I pulled away. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know . . . It just doesn't seem right or proper. We're supposed to think about G.o.d on Easter Sunday."

"I am thinking of Him. I've been thanking Him all morning that I met you." He leaned close to kiss me again, and although I knew I should have stopped him, I didn't really want to.

"Maybe we shouldn't be kissing right outside the church building," I murmured when we came up for air. "In broad daylight."

"No one knows us here." He tried to continue where we had left off, but this time I did stop him.

"We should go."

"Okay." He gave me a smile and one final kiss, then started the truck engine. He whistled all the way home. Ike Arnett had to be the most cheerful person I had ever met.

We couldn't talk much because of the noisy truck, so I sat back and enjoyed the ride. As we neared Acorn and drove past the mine, I s.h.i.+vered involuntarily. One more week until Mack's midnight break-in. I dreaded the ride up into the woods at night, and I worried for Mack's safety. Ike had his arm draped around my shoulder and had felt me s.h.i.+ver.

"What's wrong? Are you cold?"

"A little."

He pulled me closer and rubbed my arm. "Sorry. There's nothing much I can do about the missing back window. And the truck doesn't have a heater."

"That's okay. We're almost there." When we arrived in Acorn, Ike didn't even slow down as he roared past the library.

"Hey, you pa.s.sed the library."

"I know. Didn't I tell you? You're invited to my family's house for Easter Sunday dinner. It won't be much, but they all want you to come."

"You never mentioned it." I felt a wave of panic. My mother always prepared a big ham dinner for Easter, but what if Ike's mother fed me something disgusting like squirrel or possum or rabbit? It was too late to decline, now that she was expecting me. "Um . . . what's for dinner?" I tried to ask casually.

"My brother shot a wild turkey the other day. They live all through these woods, you know."

Turkey sounded safe enough. We pulled off the main road just past the post office and drove down the same dirt road that Ike and I had taken to the orchard. Ike's house sat perched on a little hill at the end of the road above the town. It was a clapboard house, not a cabin, and like the library, it was bigger than most of the other homes in Acorn. In fact, it was nearly the same size and age as the library, with an almost identical floor plan. The kitchen addition on the back of Ike's house was larger than Mack's tacked-on kitchen and it was connected to the dining room by a wide archway. They were the two nicest houses in Acorn, built by the two notorious great-grandfathers, the men reputed to have found a treasure and buried it somewhere. Could there be any truth at all to the legend?

Ike's living room was neat and cozy, with a fireplace just like the one in Mack's house. Framed photographs filled the mantel, and an embroidered sampler hung above it. The sampler looked familiar, and halfway through the afternoon I finally figured out why. It was just like the one that hung above Lillie's bed: "There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother." Proverbs 18:24. I guessed that when the young girls in Acorn had been learning how to embroider, that verse had been more popular than the traditional Home Sweet Home.

We gathered around the dining room table, and after Ike's father said grace, we dug in to eat. The food was very good, the turkey small but tasty. I'd never had corn bread stuffing before, but it was wonderful. Mrs. Arnett's biscuits were so tender and flaky, they melted in my mouth, unlike the rock-hard cobblestone biscuits I baked. The table didn't overflow with food the way ours did at home on Easter or Thanksgiving, but the food was good and I ate my fill.

Ike was the youngest sibling from a large family of brothers and sisters, and the only one not married, yet. I couldn't even begin to figure out who was who with sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and in-laws all milling around. No one in his family had ever learned the fine art of making proper introductions, so I was confused about who was who for most of the day. But they all knew exactly who I was-the new flatlander in town.

"So," his mother said when the meal ended, "I'm glad we finally got to see this young flatland gal that our Ike is so taken with." All of the other conversations around the table suddenly halted. Even the children grew quiet as everyone stared at me. I tried to smile.

"Um . . . the dinner was wonderful, Mrs. Arnett. Thank you so much for inviting me." They continued to stare at me the same way that Ike had stared when he had come into the library to watch me work. "Um . . . the library is open every day but Sunday," I said. "You're all welcome to come in anytime and check out a book."

Silence.

"Your son is very talented . . ." I paused when I saw Ike's uncles and brothers elbow each other. They began to snicker. "On the fiddle, I mean." They broke into loud guffaws. I decided to shut up. I looked over at Ike for help, but he seemed as amused as they were.

One of the younger women-a sister or sister-in-law-took pity on me and said, "You want to help me dish up the pie, Alice?"

"I would love to." I quickly stood and followed her to the kitchen. But she had something else on her mind besides dessert.

"I hope you ain't gonna toy with our Ike and break his heart." She held a very large knife in her hand-presumably to slice the pie, but I couldn't be sure.

"We're just friends. He knows I'll be going home soon."

"Because flatlanders have come down here causing trouble before, you know."

I started to point out the good example of Maggie and Hank Coots, then decided it would only make matters worse. "The pie looks delicious. What kind is it?"

"That's shoofly pie, made from sorghum."

I had never heard of it before, and I was a little leery about eating anything with a fly in its name. But I tried a small piece and found it deliciously sweet-and it didn't contain flies.

After lunch, Ike and his father and uncles and a brother or two gathered on the front porch for a jam session. The whole family joined in singing and clapping on some of the songs, and my earlier discomfort fled as the music swept me away. I could see that Ike's family was proud of him. They coaxed him to perform intricate fiddling tunes, then begged for more until his fingers must have been worn-out. "Ike's turned out to be the best fiddler of us all," his father told me.

Toward evening, Ike walked me home, taking the beeline path through the orchard, which really was halfway between the two houses, I discovered. He stopped beneath the trees, as I hoped he would, to take me into his arms and kiss me thoroughly. "I been waiting to do that all day," he murmured.

"I had a good time, Ike. Your family is very nice." I didn't mention his knife-wielding sister or her warnings. "And they're very proud of you, too."

"I sure wish I could get on The Grand Ole Opry program and make them even prouder."

"You know what? I have a feeling that you will someday."

"After we dig up the treasure?"

"I don't know about that," I laughed. "Besides, I think you're talented enough to get there on your own, without the treasure." He kissed me again, then we walked, hand in hand, the rest of the way to the library.

I enjoyed being with Ike. He made me feel cherished and pretty-and happy! But I didn't dare fall in love with him. I could never live in Acorn for the rest of my life the way that Maggie had. Besides, Ike had made it clear that he wasn't ready to get married, and I had no intention of getting my heart broken. One tragic breakup was enough for one lifetime. But I could enjoy the time that I spent with Ike, couldn't I?

On Monday I absolutely had to wash my clothing and bedsheets. It was a warm, sunny day so I knew they would dry quickly on the clothesline out back. I offered to wash Lillie's laundry, too, and she told me where to find two washtubs and a hand-crank wringer that would make the job a little easier. I built a fire in the stove, pumped water into two huge pots, and put them on the stove to heat up. Without modern conveniences and electricity, the housework around here was so tedious, and there was so much of it, that it overwhelmed me at times. I hadn't expected Lillie to help, but she limped into the kitchen just as I added more coal to the stove.

"You're up! I'm so glad you're feeling better, Miss Lillie." She was one of the most perplexing people I had ever met, but I'd come to realize how much I enjoyed her company.

"Guess I'm having one of my good days," she said. "So as long as you got the fire going, I think it's time you learnt to bake bread. You can mix the dough while you're waiting for the water to heat."

"Wait. I don't think I can learn something as complicated as bread, Lillie."

"You learnt to ride a horse, didn't you? Guess you can learn to do anything if you put your mind to it."

It had required a loaded rifle to get me on a horse the first time, and I didn't want to find out if Lillie would make me bake bread at gunpoint, too. "Okay," I sighed. "How do I make bread?"

She sat at the table and issued instructions while I mixed flour, yeast, and all of the other ingredients together. My arms and shoulders got a hefty workout when it came time to knead it. "Is it ready yet?" I asked repeatedly as my arms grew tired of kneading.

"Nope. Knead it some more." This went on for a very long time until Lillie finally decided I had kneaded it enough. "Now put it in the warming oven above the stovetop to rise, honey. I think the water is hot enough to wash clothes."

Lillie showed me how to set up the tubs outside with the hand-crank wringer on a stand between them. She also had a plunger-like device I could work up and down by hand like the agitator on my mother's electric washer to thoroughly clean the clothes. The sun finally reached the top of the hill, and Lillie sat on the bench outside the door, enjoying the spring suns.h.i.+ne.

After working the plunger up and down for a good fifteen minutes, I paused to rest. "I'm surprised that Mack didn't modernize this house," I said, puffing slightly. "He lived up north for a while, so he must have been used to having electricity. It sure would make this work a lot easier."

"No, it wouldn't. All them modern doodads put you in chains. Pretty soon you're a slave, just like I was."

"A slave? No, they make the work easier, Miss Lillie."

"Once you got electricity, then you got bills to pay. Then you got to work hard to pay them bills. Right now the mine is closed and there ain't no work, so you'd only get deeper and deeper in debt to them electricity people. Pretty soon the bank comes along and takes your house away. All because you want a was.h.i.+ng machine and electric lights."

"I guess when you put it that way . . . But the mine won't be closed forever, will it?" I finished plunging and began feeding the clothes through the wringer, cranking by hand and watching them drop into the rinse water. I would have to plunge them again in the rinse tub to get out the soap, then crank them through the wringer again and hang them on the clothesline. By the time I finished, I would be as wrung out as the clothes.

"The least Mack could have done is put in indoor plumbing," I said.

"You want a toilet inside? That means you got to have a pump to get the water up from the well, and that pump needs electricity, too. More bills, same story. Where your treasure is, there's your heart, the Bible says. You can't serve both G.o.d and Mammon. Right now, you and me could get up and go anyplace G.o.d sends us and do whatever work He wants us to do because we don't have any bills to pay. But if you start serving Mammon, you ain't free to serve G.o.d."

I stopped cranking and leaned against the frame. Back home I was free from all obligations, with no job and no boyfriend. I had nothing to do all day but read novels. Yet Lillie made it sound as though G.o.d wanted to send me somewhere to work for Him. I could never be a missionary in some strange, foreign land. I couldn't even live in Acorn year-round the way Maggie had done. The reminder of Maggie made me sad-and eager to help her.

"Miss Lillie, how do you talk to someone about G.o.d when they've lost their faith? What do you say to them when they don't believe that G.o.d cares about them anymore?"

"Honey, you just saw the proof of G.o.d's love yesterday on Easter Sunday. Jesus bled and died for us. If that don't convince people that G.o.d loves them, then I don't know what will."

"Yes, but I don't think Maggie would ever go to church with me, on Easter or any other time. I think she's angry at G.o.d."

"You talking about Maggie Coots, honey?"

I nodded. "Her husband and little girl both died around the same time. I can't imagine how hard that must have been. I didn't know what to say to her when she told me about losing them."

"I knew Maggie when she first come here years ago. She was all on fire for Jesus back then. Came down with a whole bunch of people from some church up north."

"Cora called them do-gooders."

"That's right. They was gonna work for G.o.d and change everything for the good. And Maggie was very happy working for Jesus until things started getting hard for her."

"Maggie's husband and baby died, Lillie. That's not hard, that's devastating!"

"I know. Believe me, I know. But sometimes when people work for G.o.d, they get the idea that He should make their life all smooth and easy because they're doing His work."

"Well . . . He should, right?"

"It ain't so. Jesus said life is gonna be hard. Period. He said if you're gonna follow Him, then you're gonna carry a cross, just like He did. This world of ours is under a curse, honey. We need to expect things to be bad. But even if we lose everything, we still have Jesus."

"Don't you think that's a little . . . idealistic? How can you expect people to cling to Jesus after they've laid their loved ones in the grave, and after G.o.d didn't answer their prayers and keep them from dying?"

"I know Maggie's story. I know she lost her husband and child. And I know exactly how she feels because I lost my husband and my child, too."

"You mean Charley and Buster?"

"Not only them, honey. I lost my Sam and our little baby girl, too."

"Oh, Lillie!" I dried my hands on my ap.r.o.n and sat down on the bench beside her. "What happened?"

"Bunch of men in white hoods came and burnt a cross in our yard one night, and our house caught on fire. I was off delivering a baby, so I wasn't there. Sam and our little daughter were asleep and didn't get out in time."