Anybody Shining (9 page)

But Tom had no interest in moving, it would appear. At least his feet had no interest. His hand was heading to his back pocket, where he kept that little book for writing things down.

“You can write about it later!” I hissed. “Right now ain't the time!”

Tom was already scribbling notes. “Right now is the only time! When am I ever going to find myself face-to-face with a bear again?”

“I'd say never, if his mama comes and eats you alive.”

“Just give me one minute. Anyway, he's just standing there.”

“It ain't him I'm worried about!”

I was in a pickle. I knowed the smartest thing to do was to get out of there as fast as we could without causing a commotion. And nobody was stopping me from doing just that. But I couldn't leave Tom, now could I? Who leaves their own true friend to get eat up by a bear?

“What's the difference between a black bear and a brown bear?” Tom asked. To his credit, he was still whispering, not that I thought
whispering would keep us alive in the long run.

“There ain't no brown bears around here, so that's one difference. Can we go now?”

Tom held up a finger. “Just one more second. I want to describe how intelligent his eyes are.”

I was starting to think that bear cub was far more intelligent than either me or Tom. He was King Solomon of the Bible compared to the two of us. I bet if he'd been in our position, he would have run off a long time ago.

He'd been standing there staring at us for a while, but now the cub turned his head toward the woods. I heard a rustling sound and knowed it was the sound of our doom. I grabbed Tom's arm.

“Mama bear's coming—let's get going!”

Finally Tom listened to sense, and together we backed up step by step until we were again on the path.

“Let's just get one look at the mother, Arie Mae,” Tom pleaded. “I bet she's something to see, and we're safe up here, don't you think?”

This time I stood my ground. “I'll show you a picture of a mama bear in Miss Sary's encyclopedia, but if you don't move right now, then you will be the cause of my death.”

I am pleased to report that the thought of my dying in the jaws of a bear made Tom feel bad enough to hightail it on up the path as fast as he could, which was faster than you might think, shooting a glance backwards every few seconds. Maybe I'm wrong, but I was pretty sure he was hoping that mama bear was hot on our trail.

That is just a little bit too adventuresome for my tastes.

We was huffing and puffing by the time we got back to the post office and plopped back down on the bench, holding our sides and breathing hard.

“We saw a bear, Arie Mae!” Tom exclaimed. “I can't wait to write Father about it!”

“Don't forget to mention the part where you almost got both of us killed.”

Tom waved off my words like he was
swatting a pesky fly. “We were fine! We weren't in the least bit of danger.”

I stared at him a long time. “You really are from Baltimore, Maryland, ain't you?”

“What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “I mean you sure ain't from around here.”

That got Tom to laughing, and I started laughing too, and we just couldn't stop ourselves. We laughed so hard and so long that Miss Ellie come out from the post office to see what was wrong with us.

“You'uns go on home!” she yelled. “You're scaring off my customers!”

Tom got up to go then, but I said I thought I might sit a few more minutes. After Tom had gone, I let out a few more laughs, but the thought of my walk home sobered me up. What if that mama bear was on the path, looking for me?

Well, I thought, pushing myself up off the bench, at least Tom will be able to explain to Mama and Daddy what happened when all
they find is my bones halfway between here and there.

And then I ran all the way home.

Now I suppose I might have come across that bear cub even if Tom hadn't been with me. Of course, I would have gotten away a lot quicker, having more sense when it comes to bears than Tom does.

But if Tom hadn't been there, why, it wouldn't have been an adventure, would it? It wouldn't be something I'll be telling folks about for the rest of my life. And I had that adventure all because I wrote you a letter, Cousin Caroline, and needed to mail it.

So I suppose I will write you another letter soon, even if you don't rightly deserve it.

Not that I am judging, because I don't judge.

Signed,

Your Cousin,

Arie Mae Sparks

Dear Cousin Caroline,

Last night I got to thinking about why you ain't written me back yet, and I have come up with a right good theory. You fear that your mama will be against it. Maybe she has said to you, “Caroline, under no circumstances are you to write a letter to that Arie Mae Sparks up there in Stone Gap, North Carolina! I don't care how many times she has written to you. If you don't answer her, maybe she will leave us alone!”

Well, you can tell that mama of yourn that I will keep writing these letters for the rest of my life if that is what it takes to show you that we are kin and should be the best of friends.

Besides, if I stopped writing you, how would you know what me and Tom got ourselves up to?

Three days ago I walked over to the settlement school to be neighborly, and who did I run into first thing but Ruth Wells? And didn't I just wish I'd worn me some shoes and maybe a dress that didn't have a spray of spots on it from the time Mama made me chop off a chicken's head because she was too busy with Baby John? I am here to tell you that a chicken's neck will spurt blood something fierce the second its head is removed, and it's better to wear old rags to get the job done and not your second-best dress.

Ruth come up to me with her fine manners and said, “Arie Mae, I would like to meet Pastor Campbell's wife, Sarah. Mother tells me she comes from Virginia and was educated at Hollins College. And now here she is, hidden
away in this primitive place. I think she must be fascinating!”

Primitive? I have never thought of Stone Gap as being primitive, but maybe you can't truly know the place you live in. Or maybe I don't rightly know what primitive means. I can report that the post office has electric lights, which seems fairly advanced to me.

But that was neither here nor there. “If you'uns come up the mountain after dinner tomorrow, why, we'd be happy to make your acquaintance with Miss Sary. She's about the nicest person I know.”

Ruth smiled at me like I was a little child and said, “Why, thank you, Arie Mae. I knew I could count on you.”

The more I thought about it when I got back home, the more I didn't want to take Ruth to meet Miss Sary. I was afeared she would turn her sniffy nose up at Miss Sary's humble home, even if she claimed she found her “fascinating.”

But the minute Lucille heard that Ruth Wells was coming up to our house so we could
take her to Pastor Campbell's, well, there was no turning back. Having heard me describe Ruth, Lucille could not wait to become her bosom friend. Lucille is drawn to ribbons and pretty gold lockets on thin gold chains, and bossy girls do not bother her in the least bit. It is girls like Lucille, the ones who are always trying to better themselves and other folks too, who are custom-made to be friends with girls like Ruth Wells.

I have to give Ruth one thing—she has pretty manners. She said, “How do you do, Mrs. Sparks,” in a very friendly tone when James introduced her to Mama, and then she commented on Mama's piecework that was laying over the back of a chair. “Why, is that the Churn Dash pattern?” she wanted to know. “I hear that's very complicated.”

“You know about piecework?” Mama asked, clearly amazed. “I didn't know folks off the mountain pieced.”

Ruth smiled a gracious smile. “I don't actually make quilts myself, but Mother has an
interest in domestic handicrafts. She is writing a book about quilts from the Civil War.”

“Your mama's writing a book about quilts?” Mama looked over at one laid across the chair, then shook her head. “That's an everyday sort of thing to write about, ain't it?”

“That's why Mother finds them so interesting,” Ruth explained. “They are everyday things, but they're also beautiful.”

Mama continued to look doubtful. “I reckon.”

As soon as Lucille got a taste of Ruth's refined ways, she run into the bedroom and changed into her Sunday best. I knowed she was wishing her Sunday best was a lot better than it was. When she pranced back to the kitchen, Mama took one look at her and said, “Uh-uh, Miss Lucille. You go right back in that room and change into what you had on. You'll ruin that dress tramping around in the woods.”

Tears sprung up in Lucille's eyes, and I wondered how she was going to keep them from spilling over. But Ruth put her hand on Lucille's shoulder and said, “That's a lovely
dress, Lucille. It would certainly be a shame if it got torn or dirty.”

Lucille sniffed a couple of times and looked shyly at Ruth. “Maybe we could stay here? I could show you my doll named Chandelier. Ain't that the prettiest name? I heard it in a book.”

Ruth smiled, but she did not smirk, and that made me like her a little bit more than I'd been inclined to. “I would very much like to meet Chandelier. Why don't you change your dress, and then you could bring her with us to Mrs. Campbell's house? I do so want to meet Mrs. Campbell.”

So off we went tramping through the woods to Miss Sary's, James and Harlan leading the way, followed by Ruth and Lucille dressed once again in her everyday clothes, holding Chandelier in her arms. I stayed to the back with Tom, who moved slower than the others on account of his leg.

“This is the greenest place I've ever seen,” Tom said, looking all around him in wonder.
“Everywhere you look, it's trees and leaves and bushes and vines. I wish I knew the names of things so I could write them down in my book.” He pointed to a bush with white flowers. “Like that!”

“That's mountain laurel,” I told him, proud to have this knowledge, even though it's common to everyone around these parts. “It grows all over the place. It's nice, because the leaves stay green and shiny all year, and—”

Before I could finish, Tom quick put a finger to his lips, so I shut my mouth. He nodded his head in the direction of the left side of the path.

Well, maybe my eye caught a flash of light, like the wind had blown up the skirts of some low-hanging leaves, but I didn't see nothing other than that. “I missed it, whatever it was,” I said.

“I could have sworn I saw somebody over there,” Tom said, but he sounded doubtful about it. “A little girl in a white dress. She was—well, she was shining.”

Oh, how I wished I could tell Tom I seen the
exact same thing he did. I would have lied if I thought it would make him be my friend, but I'm an awful poor liar, so he might not have believed me. “I might have saw something,” I told him. “At least I
think
I might have saw something. Only I couldn't say what.”