Wonderland Creek (21 page)

These problems were not mine to worry about, I told myself. Yet I couldn’t stop worrying about them.

That evening, Lillie offered to teach me how to make corn bread. “It’ll go real good with the pot of beans I got cooking,” she told me. “We’ll have us a real nice supper.” Lillie sat at the kitchen table coaching me as I mixed the cornmeal and flour and lard.

“What ingredients did you put in the beans?” I tried to ask nonchalantly. She couldn’t blame me for being suspicious after she’d fed me squirrel.

“You want the recipe?”

“Sure.”

“First you gotta boil the beans so they get nice and soft. Then I add onions, some home-canned tomatoes, and just a spoonful of sorghum. That’s my secret ingredient. Sorghum.”

“No meat?”

“A little chunk of salted meat for flavor, if you got it. Why you asking? You thinking of cooking up a batch for your folks when you get home?”

“Maybe . . .” I didn’t dare look at her, afraid she would see that I was fibbing.

“If you want, I can give you my recipe for squirrel stew, too.”

I could hear the laughter in her voice and felt my cheeks grow warm. “No, thank you. People back home don’t eat squirrel.”

“Honey, if people get hungry enough, they’ll eat anything.”

“Is this batter mixed enough?” I asked. I was desperate to change the subject. “Should I put it in the pan now? How hot does the oven need to be?”

“Hot enough to bake it,” she said, laughing at my embarrassment. “Yes, it’s ready, honey. Go on and put it in the oven.”

The oven door opened with a creak and I bent to shove the pan inside. A rush of hot air made my face even redder. Sometimes I hated being a fair-skinned blonde. People could read my distress like a thermometer as the color filled or drained from my cheeks. I closed the door again and sat down across the table from Lillie to wait for the bread to bake.

“You started to tell me the other day about Sam and your husband and your son. Did you ever find your family again?”

“Didn’t I finish that story?”

“No. We have time now while the corn bread bakes. I’d really like to hear it.”

Lillie gazed off into the distance for a moment, as if waiting for a ship to return. Then she sighed and said, “Well, honey, it’s like this. After the war ended, I waited and waited for Charley and Buster, but they never came home. Now, my old massa had three boys. One of them come home from the war okay, one come back without an arm, and one got killed up in the north someplace. Maryland, I think. He was Massa’s oldest boy, so I figured Massa should know how I’m missing my own son. So I walk on over to the old plantation, and I ask him to help me find my family. But his heart’s just as hard and cold as a big old stone. He won’t tell me where he sold them off to. I knew he wrote it all down in that big ledger book of his. Massa wrote everything in there.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell you?”

“Massa and his friends lost everything they had because of that war, and they’re blaming us Negro slaves for causing it. They think we shoulda been content with our life the way it was, instead of getting the folks up north all riled up about setting us free.”

“Wasn’t there another way to find out about your family?”

“Yes, I asked the Good Lord to help me find them. And a few months later, old Massa got sick. Doctors tell him they can’t help him no more, so they send for me. Well, it ain’t them who come for me, it’s the missus. She always used to send for me when her boys was little and one of them was sick with a fever or something. Missus used to treat me real nice when Massa ain’t looking. Anyway, she come all the way out to the colored town where I’m teaching school, driving the wagon herself, and she ask if I won’t please come back and see what I can do for my old massa.”

Lillie paused, gazing off into the distance again. I didn’t know if she was going to finish her story or if she had lost her train of thought. I waited as long as I could before asking, “Did you go with her?”

“Of course I went, honey-girl.”

“You helped your old master, even though he had been so mean to you?”

“Ain’t I been trying to tell you that you can’t be holding grudges against people? Didn’t you hear me say that? What do you think Jesus is gonna say if we come walking up to those pearly gates carrying a whole sackful of grievances and grudges on our backs? Jesus is gonna ask, What’s that you toting there on your back? Do you want to be opening that sack and showing Him all those ugly things? He’s dressed all in white and shining like the sun, and you’re coming in with a load of hate in your arms? Umm hmm. I can’t imagine doing that.”

I felt my cheeks growing warm again and didn’t know why.

“Jesus tells us to be praying, ‘Forgive us our debts just like we’re forgiving others,’ because He knows if we don’t pray for that every single day and remind ourselves to forgive, we ain’t gonna be doing it. And I need His help, honey-girl. Without it, I surely can’t forgive all the people who wronged me. And unless Jesus helps me, I for sure can’t forgive the man who sold my husband and my son and never will tell me where they’re gone to. Umm hmm, no ma’am.”

I could smell the corn bread baking, so I stood and rattled through the cupboards and drawers as I got out bowls and spoons to set the table for our dinner. By the time I sat down again, I was sure that Lillie would have forgotten our conversation and her impromptu sermon, but she started up again without coaxing.

“Yes, I know I have to forgive Massa, whether I feel like it or not, because that’s what the Bible says to do. So I get into that wagon with my old missus, and I go on back to that plantation. Place looking terrible now that the war’s over and ain’t nobody left to take care of it like they should. Flower garden’s all overgrowed with weeds, house needs paint. Inside don’t hardly look like anyone’s cleaned it in a while.”

I nodded, imagining that it might have looked a lot like this kitchen on the day I arrived.

“Missus took me into the room where Massa lay dying, and I could see he’s been all eaten up inside with disease. That’s what happens when you hang on to bitterness and hatred, honey-girl. It eats you right up from the inside, just like a cancer. Massa sees me come in, and he ain’t so full of vinegar and bluster no more. All the fight’s gone clean out of him, and he ain’t the same man. He says, ‘You got something in your bag of tricks to make me well, Lillie?’ So I look him all over, and I see how yellow his skin look, like he’s been rubbing dandelions over himself. And I told him, ‘No sir, ain’t no cure for what you got, but I can fix you something to stop the pain in your bones so you can rest.’ He closed his eyes and didn’t say another word. He’s too proud to ask a slave like me for anything else.”

“Too proud? Even though he was dying?”

“Pride has a way of turning our hearts hard over the years unless we let God soften them up again. That’s why God puts all kinds of troubles in our path, hoping they’ll do the trick—just like cooking them beans in hot water all day turns them soft. Our trials are supposed to turn us toward God, but we whine and complain and wish someone would turn down the fire so we could have our old life back the way it was.”

She paused again and I didn’t prod her to continue her story. I had the feeling her sermon was meant for me, and I didn’t want to hear it. I got up and peeked in the oven again. The corn bread was nearly done. “Shall I dish up the beans now?” I asked. “That way they can cool a little before we eat them.”

She smiled at me. “Sure, go ahead, honey.”

I took my time ladling the beans into our bowls, pumping water to fill our glasses, rinsing the bowl I had used to mix the corn bread. All that time, Lillie watched me in serene silence. “I think the bread is done,” I said, peeking at it again. I took it out and set the hot pan on the table, then got out a knife to cut it.

“Let’s say grace,” Lillie said when I sat down again. I bowed my head but didn’t hear a word of her prayer. I wanted to hear the end of Lillie’s story and find out if she ever found her husband and son again, but not if she was going to preach to me.

“Bread’s real good,” she said after taking a bite. “Anyway, the missus pulled me aside after I left Massa’s room, and she begged me to help him. She say he ain’t been sleeping nights, he’s in so much pain. ‘I’ll pay any price you ask, Lillie,’ she says. So I tell her the only price I want is to know where Massa sold my Charley and little Buster. ‘It’s all written down in that book of his,’ I tell her. ‘Buster must be twelve years old by now and maybe he forgot all about me, but I still want to see him.’ ”

Lillie ate a few spoonfuls of her beans and another bite of corn bread. “So, the missus and I, we made a deal. Next time I come out to the plantation, I brung some of that same potion I gave Mack—only not near as strong. And Missus gave me a piece of paper all folded up that tells me where Charley and Buster was sold.” Lillie returned to her dinner.

I waited until I could no longer stand the suspense. “Where were they? Were they close by? Did you find them?”

She chewed the last of her corn bread and swallowed. “That was mighty delicious, honey. I’m as stuffed as a possum.” She grinned at me in a strange, mischievous way.

Possum?
Was Lillie hinting that the salted meat had been possum? I wanted to know—yet I didn’t want to know. The meal would sit much better in my stomach if I didn’t know the truth. Lillie watched me, waiting. When I didn’t question her, she yawned and said, “I’m so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. Will you help me upstairs, honey?”

Her voice had been slowing down as she’d told her story, and her tiny body sagged lower and lower in the chair. I let her lean on me as we went up to her bedroom. She was already wearing her nightgown—sometimes she wore it all day. I sat on the edge of her bed after she had climbed in, hoping to hear the rest of her story.

“Don’t be hanging on to hard feelings, honey,” she said instead. “Make sure you empty that sack every night before you go to bed. That’s what the Good Book says, you know. Don’t let the sun go down while you’re still angry.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me more of your story? Did you find your family?”

“Another day, honey. I’ll tell you that story another day.”

I cleaned up the kitchen and went up to bed early. I tried to read Maggie’s novel by lamplight, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Lillie’s words of advice. I didn’t want to be carrying a sackful of old hurts and grievances when I arrived at the pearly gates to meet Jesus. I knew I had to forgive Lillie and Mack for all the trials they had put me through. And I also knew that I hadn’t been very kind to my best friend, Freddy.

She had never dated very much and never had a steady boyfriend. Her father had been ill the entire time we were in high school. Then shortly before he died, her mother had become ill. Freddy was always helping other people, including me, yet she’d never seemed jealous when I’d started dating Gordon, even though she didn’t have a boyfriend. I regretted acting like a spoiled child just because Gordon had invited Freddy to the movies.

I laid my book aside and sat up in bed to write a letter to Freddy, even though I would probably arrive home before my letter did. Some things were easier to say in a letter than face-to-face.

Dear Freddy,

I’ve had time to think about a lot of things while I’ve been away, and I no longer have any hard feelings toward Gordon for breaking up with me. You and he were both right; we never did have very much in common. And I know that I’ve done some things to hurt his feelings—like calling him by the wrong name, for instance, and getting us thrown out of the movie theater.

I want you to know that I still think Gordon is a really nice person, and he deserves a sweet girlfriend like you. If you would like to accept his invitation and go to the movies with him sometime, I wouldn’t be mad at either one of you. I honestly don’t mind, Freddy. The truth is, I’ve come to realize that I never was in love with him—not in the way that people describe love in all the novels I’ve read. And when I do fall in love someday, that’s how I want to feel about the man I marry—the same way women in all of my favorite books feel. You deserve to find a good man like Gordon. In fact, I think you and he would be great for each other. Please accept his invitation and go to the movies with him, Freddy. I would love to see both of you live happily ever after.

Your dearest friend always,

Allie

Tears ran down my face as I folded the letter and put it in the envelope. I was crying, and I didn’t know why.

I
fixed breakfast on Monday morning with a smile on my face. Only two more days until I headed home. I was mixing flour and lard to make biscuits when Lillie suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You’re up awfully early,” I said to her. “Are you feeling all right?”