Wonderland Creek (51 page)

“I’m telling you, honey. Leave it alone.”

I didn’t listen. I stood and reached for the sampler above her head, blowing off the dust. “May I take this down and look at it, please?”

“There’s a story in the Bible about a great big basket, and inside is a woman named ‘Wickedness.’ God put a big heavy lid on top of her, made out of lead, to keep the wickedness from jumping out. Ever read that story?”

“No.” I wasn’t interested. I had the frame in my hand and I looked it over carefully. I didn’t see anything on the back that looked like a map. I studied the embroidery to see if the instructions were concealed in the design. Nothing. I would have to take the frame apart. I sat down and turned it over on my lap.

“May I take this frame apart?”

“It don’t belong to me, honey. It belongs to Mack.”

“He won’t mind. He was searching for the treasure map, too.”

I began to pry off the nails that held down the backing, being very careful not to damage anything. The date on the sampler was 1875, for goodness’ sakes. I expected to find a map concealed behind the backing, but there was nothing there. I looked between the yellowing fabric and the wood—in vain. I had torn the entire sampler apart for nothing.

“I’m sorry, Lillie . . . I’ll put it back together.”

“Leave it, honey. I’ll fix it.”

“I’m really sorry. I should have listened to you.”

She waved me away, still shaking her head.

I went back to my typewriter in Lillie’s workroom, but I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t stop thinking about Isaac Larkin’s mysterious letter. Maybe I needed the other sampler from Ike’s house. Maybe if I put the two samplers side by side, I’d see the solution. But who knew when Ike would return home. Besides, if I told him what I had discovered, he’d want to keep all the money for himself, not divide it between the two families. Should I wait for Mack? He was a Larkin, but he didn’t care about the money. He wanted to end the feud, too. In my opinion, Wayne and June Ann should be the ones to dig up the money. The treasure rightfully belonged to Feather.

The next time I went into Lillie’s room, she had put the sampler back together and hung it on the wall again. But it didn’t look the same. I had damaged it for nothing, and now I was sorry.

A
s I waited for Mack to return, time felt suspended. Day after day, nothing happened. It was as if someone had waved a magic wand and the town of Acorn froze in time. My garden continued to grow. The packhorse librarians checked out piles of books and returned piles more. I finished reading
Tom Saywer
to Faye’s boys and began reading
Huckleberry Finn
.

Meanwhile, I could sense my parents’ growing concern in their letters as they asked about the delay and wondered how much longer until I came home. I couldn’t give them a clear answer. I worried that my father would show up at the library door one day and insist that I return home with him, but I couldn’t leave now! I had grown to love Miss Lillie and I felt responsible for her—and for June Ann and Feather and Maggie, too. And I needed to find out how the story of Acorn, Kentucky, would end when Mack did return and all of the loose ends could be tied up.

I rode my usual book route twice a week, after retrieving Belle’s saddle from Mack’s abandoned cabin. Each time I stopped at Maggie’s house, I found June Ann there. Maggie had become a second mother to her. June Ann was little more than a teenager, after all. Together, the two women took care of Miss Opal and Feather.

As time passed, I became more and more annoyed with Mack. I hated waiting. The least he could do was write to us with news about his book, and the investigation into Hank’s death, and the search for Lillie’s son. I hadn’t received a letter from Ike, either—or even a postcard from his travels.

Then one day, someone waved the magic wand again and broke the spell. Time became unfrozen, and after waiting and waiting for something to happen, everything happened at once. First, Ike Arnett strode into library on a Thursday morning just as I was packing my saddlebags for my trip up the creek.

“Ike! Welcome home! It’s so good to see you.” I remembered how he had once picked me up and whirled me around in a circle, but he didn’t do it that day. He looked dead tired, and maybe a little hungover as he slumped into Lillie’s chair in the non-fiction room. “When did you get back in town, Ike?”

“Late last night. I know it’s early in the morning, Alice, but I came to tell you I’m sorry for not writing like I promised. We’ve been doing so much traveling and playing that I’ve barely had time to eat or sleep.”

“I understand.” It wasn’t quite true. I was irritated with him. How much time does it take to mail a postcard? But I held my tongue. “Everything is going well with your new band, I assume?”

Ike grinned and his face beamed brighter than the miner’s hat in the gloomy tunnel. “It’s like I died and went to heaven, Alice. When me and the other fellas in the band play together, it’s like we can read each other’s thoughts. We might be six separate people playing six different instruments, but we make one beautiful sound, and it’s music! Heavenly music! I never felt anything like it before. It’s like we were born to play together.”

“I’m really happy for you.” And I was. Ike Arnett did not belong in Acorn, working in the coal mines.

“The pay’s been real good, but I gotta tell you, Alice, I’d do this for nothing. I love playing my fiddle and making people happy. Everyone seems so beaten down here in Acorn, especially these past few years. I don’t think I ever want to come back. But when our band plays, we make everyone happy. You should see them dancing and singing and tapping their toes.” Ike couldn’t stop grinning.

One of the things I had missed the most about him was his cheerful spontaneity with romantic picnics in the orchard and stolen kisses. The town had been much too quiet without him. “How long will you be home?” I asked.

“I’m leaving again in a few minutes. I just came home to give my folks some money and to pick up a few things. Then I’ll be gone for another month, maybe more. We have so many offers to play that we’re turning jobs down. It’s like I rubbed a magic lamp and a genie popped out and granted my greatest wish.”

“That’s wonderful.” I would be sad to see him go. But I was even sadder to realize that I had no idea what I would wish for if a genie offered to grant my greatest wish.

“I know we said we’d find that treasure, but to tell you the truth, I don’t care about it anymore.”

When Ike mentioned the treasure, I was tempted to ask him if I could borrow the sampler hanging above his fireplace. I resisted the urge. Not only had I promised to keep Isaac Larkin’s letter a secret, but I still felt guilty for ruining the sampler in Lillie’s room. I wouldn’t ruin another one.

Ike stood up and took my hands in his. This was it. I would probably never see him again. But instead of kissing me good-bye and walking away, he began to
hem and haw
, as my grandmother would say, acting very much like a boy who has been caught being naughty.

“What’s wrong, Ike?”

“I have a confession to make—something that’s been bothering me. I hope you’ll forgive me when I tell you.”

“I could never stay mad at you for very long.”

“Okay . . . Well, remember when I went upstairs looking for Mack’s hunting jacket? The truth is, I was snooping around to see if Mack had found out anything about the treasure. Before he died, he’d said he was looking for it, so I wanted to see what he’d found. The same is true about the day I got rid of that bat for you. I did take care of the bat like I said, but I was also searching through Mack’s things for a map. I made friends with you at first because I thought he might have told you something about it.”

I pulled my hands away from his. “So our time together was just a lie?”

“No! Not at all! It might have started out that way, but I fell for you, Alice. I fell hard! That’s why I’m coming clean about the treasure and about snooping in Mack’s room. And that’s why I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I never should have lied to you.”

I felt a little hurt, a little angry, but mostly sad. “Why are you telling me the truth now?”

“It’s been eating my conscience, and I don’t want to be punished for my wrongdoings. I want the Good Lord to keep on blessing my music. This band is important to me. It’s what I always wanted my whole life. And it’s my ticket out of the coal mines. I won’t need the treasure now.”

“You were born to play the fiddle, Ike. Of course I forgive you.”

He moved closer and rested his hands on my shoulders. “I’d love to ask you to wait right here for me, but that ain’t fair to you. I’d like it even more if you came with me, but that’s no kind of life for you, either—traveling with a road band. I’m guessing you’ll be heading home soon?”

“Yes. Soon.” I didn’t really know when it would be, and I couldn’t tell him that I was waiting for Mack to return.

“I hate saying good-bye, Alice. But if the Good Lord wants our paths to cross again . . . well, then, I guess He’ll take care of it.”

“I guess He will.” God had seemed to manipulate a lot of other events lately, such as giving Feather the colic and having June Ann appear just in time to save Mack and me. What Ike said was probably true. The Good Lord could arrange anything.

Ike looked down at me with his big, sad, brown eyes and said, “May I kiss you good-bye, for now?”

I nodded. His kiss was tender and loving—and final. Another good-bye. Ike had treated me kinder than Gordon had when he’d broken up with me, but this parting was sad, just the same. Ike’s love potion had worn off. And so had mine.

I closed the door behind him and stood in the foyer, trying to figure out exactly how I felt. When I turned around again, there was Lillie, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Is he going away?” she asked.

“Yes. Which means you were right, Lillie. It’s wearing off, isn’t it?”

“What is, honey?”

“The love potion you gave Ike. It’s starting to wear off.”

Lillie smiled. “Ain’t no such thing as a love potion, except in storybooks.”

“But you told me that you made some and gave it to Ike.”

“Why would I give a love potion to Ike?”

“I don’t know! You wouldn’t tell me why!” I was shouting. Was Lillie becoming senile? Or was this one of her tricks? “You said you gave some to Belle, too, remember?”

Lillie eyed me as if I were the one who was senile. “Honey, if I knew how to make a love potion, I’d be selling it up in New York City.” She chuckled as she limped away.

Good thing I had grown to love her, because she infuriated me.

I saddled up Belle and left on my route, still sad over Ike’s departure and my bruised feelings—even though, if I were honest with myself, I would have to admit that a relationship with Ike never would have worked, any more than a relationship with Gordon would have worked.

I rode past Mack’s vacant cabin as usual, and I found myself missing him, too. And not just because I had to clean Belle’s hooves and groom her all by myself now that he was gone. Mack and I had become good friends during the weeks I had visited him up here, bringing him food. And our friendship had deepened the night we’d explored the deserted mine tunnel together. I missed talking to him. I missed his quiet strength.

My first stop of the day was June Ann’s cabin. I was in the habit of stopping to see if she was there, although I usually found her at Maggie’s house, my final stop. Today I was in for a surprise. Not only was June Ann at home, but so was her husband, Wayne. June Ann came running out of the house to tell me the good news before I even had a chance to dismount. She was carrying baby Feather in her arms.

“Guess who came home last night, Allie—Wayne! And he’s got a pocketful of money that he made working for that Conversation Corpse.”

I smiled at her mispronunciation of the
Conservation Corps
. “That’s wonderful, June Ann. Is he going to stay home for a while?” I remembered how brief Ike’s visit had been.

“He’s staying home with us for good. And he says maybe now we can buy a couple of windows for the cabin.”

“I’m so happy for you.” And I was. I had rarely seen June Ann so joyful and excited. She was even smiling. Then I thought of my friend Maggie and the effect this might have on her. “Was it hard for Maggie to say good-bye to you and Feather?”

“Oh, we’re gonna keep on visiting her. Feather and I love it up there.”

My sad mood over Ike’s departure began to lift, and I couldn’t stop smiling as I made my rounds, delivering books and reading stories to the children. But as I approached Maggie’s house, I grew apprehensive. How would she cope without June Ann and the baby? For as long as I’d known her, Maggie had seemed perfectly fine to me until the night she’d tried to shoot Mack again. Now that I knew how fragile she really was, I worried about her.

She was standing on her front porch when I arrived, leaning against the post, her face serene. “I’ve been waiting for you, Allie,” she said as I dismounted. “I need to ask a favor.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“Miss Opal died this morning.”

“Oh, Maggie! No . . .” I moved into her arms, not sure who was comforting whom. Why did this have to happen now, just when Wayne Larkin had returned home? “I’m so sorry, Maggie.”