Mazy was busily chatting
into the telephone as Lilly stepped into the office. She held up one finger in a wait-a-minute sign. Lilly was surprised and pleased to see how quickly her sister had acclimated to the new device. They’d had a freestanding phone put in this room. It had a long enough cord to provide privacy if needed.
“Thank you very much,” Mazy said, replacing the receiver. “Can you believe I’m up to the
J
s? Jessup, Ronald, to be exact. See? The last name of the person you’re calling is printed first and the first name last.”
“Why were you calling Ronald Jessup?”
“I’m on a mission to place a call to every letter in the alphabet, namewise and countywise. Mr. Jessup from Jessamine
County wasn’t home, but his wife answered.” She checked off the name. “That should count, don’t you think?”
Mazy took three yellow pencils from a blue mug, stuck one into the metal sharpener fixed to the desk, and turned the handle. “The most fun one was David Doolittle from Daviess County.” She gave the detachable shavings retainer a quick rap against the inside of the trash can. Curls of brown and yellow spilled out along with the rich smell of wood. “I would never have imagined a person has a name such as Doolittle. He was nice, though.”
Lilly rubbed her forehead against the beginning of a headache. “Mazy. There’s a long-distance charge for calling any number outside the county. Besides, this is a business phone. It’s not for entertaining yourself.”
Mazy laid the directory precisely in the middle of the waiting room desk, then smoothed its cover with both hands. “Well,” she said with a pout, “you don’t have to be so mean about it. I was all alone after everybody ran off. I didn’t have anything else to do.”
Lilly found she had not one bit of patience left. If she said anything now, it would be more pointed than she meant. “We’ll discuss this later. In the meantime . . .”
“I know, I know
—no fun allowed.” Mazy twirled the desk chair around until her back was to Lilly. “I don’t think I like this job anymore.”
Lilly went straight to her private lavatory and filled a glass with water. She didn’t like to take anything, but this day called for an aspirin
—or two. The death of the gandy dancer was
enough to spark a migraine and then to find Mazy wasting time and money . . . Well, no wonder her head began to throb in earnest. She caught the reflection of her down-turned mouth and knit brow in the mirror. Leaning closer, she pushed her lips into a smile with her index fingers. “Don’t be such a grump,” she chided, adding a second aspirin to the dose.
A sudden wave of nausea took her to her knees. She hated to vomit worse than anything
—she’d rather have shingles. But she leaned over the pristine toilet bowl and lost her long-ago breakfast.
“Sister,” Mazy said, pushing through the door. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Just a little headache
—sometimes this helps, for whatever reason.” Shaken, Lilly sat with her back against the wall. She reached up to pull the chain that would empty the water closet.
Mazy ran water into the sink. She dampened a washcloth, folded it in thirds, and placed it on Lilly’s forehead. “This is what Mama would do.”
A sob escaped Lilly’s lips as tears sprang to her eyes and flowed down her cheeks. How she missed her mama.
Mazy sank down beside her and wrapped Lilly in a hug. “I’m sorry, Lilly. Really I am. I’ll do better, I promise.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not you. I just get out of sorts sometimes.”
“I know. I know you do.” Mazy patted Lilly’s back in a soothing fashion. “I forgive you.”
Lilly rested her head in the crook of Mazy’s shoulder. “I’m glad Mama sent you to help me, Mazy.”
“Good gravy, it smells of throw up in here,” Mazy said, pinching her nose. “Where’s that candle you keep for moments such as this?”
Lilly waved her hand in the general direction of the linen cupboard.
“Oops,” Mazy said, “I remember now. I took it and a box of matches to the privy. I thought it would give a welcoming ambience to the outhouse. Isn’t that a lovely word?
Ambience
? It means the mood of a place or something like that. I looked it up in your pocket dictionary. I’m committed to learning one new word a day
—or maybe one a week. Depends on how busy I am.”
Mazy offered her hands to pull Lilly up, but Lilly couldn’t move. She was trying so hard not to laugh that her belly hurt for a different reason. But just the thought of someone setting the wooden privy on fire with the ambience candle was too much. “Mazy,” she said. “Mazy, Mazy, Mazy. You are too precious for words.”
“I hope that is a compliment,” Mazy said as she hauled Lilly off the floor.
Lilly splashed cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. “I’ve an idea. Let’s close the office for an hour. You and I could use a walk.”
“Good idea, as long as the walk is to the diner. I’m famished.”
“So what happened with the train?” Mazy asked after finishing her half of a pimento cheese sandwich.
“A man was hit and killed.”
Mazy gasped. “Oh, how awful. How could such a thing happen?”
“It was an accident.” Lilly hoped Mazy didn’t ask for details. “Finish your chips, Mazy.”
Mazy covered her plate with her napkin. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Think of his poor family. I’ll bet his mother is crying her eyes out.”
“I expect you’re right.”
Mazy picked at a loose thread on the napkin. “You didn’t have to look at him
—did you?”
“Only for a minute; it’s part of my job.”
“Well, good thing I decided I didn’t want to be a doctor. I don’t like dead bodies. Or an undertaker
—I don’t want to be an undertaker, either. Can you even imagine what they do all day? Gives me the willies.”
She turned her gaze to the long window beside their booth. “Look, Lilly, there’s a duck on the porch. He’s probably looking for a cheese sandwich. Do you think I could take him the rest of my chips?”
“I don’t see why not. Just don’t make a mess.”
Mazy laughed. “Sister, that’s up to the duck. That’s why Daddy wouldn’t let us keep one. Or a goose
—they’re way messier than ducks.”
Lilly sat a minute and watched her sister through the window. Mazy stooped down and opened the palm of her hand. The duck backed up. Mazy put one chip on the porch floor
right in front of her feet. In no time, the duck was eating from her hand.
That is so like Mazy,
Lilly thought. Her sweet demeanor drew everyone and, obviously, every
thing
in. Maybe her sister was flighty, but she was charming. And Mama said she was sensitive like her brother, Lilly and Mazy’s uncle Daniel. He was an artist who owned a gallery in Philadelphia. He had paintings in galleries and museums all over, even in Europe.
Speaking of being drawn in
—Chanis Clay was now on the porch with Mazy and her duck friend. Mazy looked up from her crouched position and gave him a smile of pure sunshine. Lilly laid a dime tip beside her plate and picked up her check. She’d better get out there before the
sheriff
was eating from Mazy’s hand.
Mazy was coming in as Lilly was going out. “The sheriff wants to speak with you,” she said. “I’m going to run in and borrow a napkin. My hands are all greasy from the potato chips. Yuck.”
Lilly found Chanis in the yard wiping the sole of his boot on a patch of grass. “Doggone duck,” he said. “Good thing it wasn’t a goose. Say, we took the body over to Cox’s Shady Lawn. I’ll walk back to the clinic with you if you like. I can pick up the death certificate and take it over to Mr. Cox. Save you a trip.”
“Thank you, Chanis. That would be nice.”
“Have you seen that fellow that stabbed himself again?”
“Not yet. He should have come in to have his wound packing changed.”
“I asked around, but nobody recalls a man of that description, nor was there any report of bar fights or such. Everything’s been quiet around here until Dewey got himself run over by a train.”
“So you’ve heard nothing about a missing baby, either?”
He hooked his thumbs on the edges of his pants pockets. “Nary a word. Are you making any progress with Miz Armina?”
“Some, yes. She’s recalling bits and pieces.”
“It would help a right smart if you could find out the general vicinity of where she was on Monday. I’ve been up just about every holler you can speak of asking around. Somebody said there was a new family moved in up Tattler’s Branch Road, but I haven’t had the chance to get up there yet.”
Lilly shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun. “At least the baby’s getting good care. I can’t help worrying about the mother, though. How could she not even come looking for her daughter?”
“You can’t figure people, Doc.”
Lilly watched his face light up when Mazy came their way holding a small brown-paper sack.
“I bought a piece of chocolate cake to share three ways,” she said, swinging her skirts like a schoolgirl. “Don’t you just love chocolate, Sheriff?”
“I’ll leave the cake to you ladies
—sweets to the sweetest.”
Mazy batted her eyelashes. “Oh, Sheriff. You flatter a girl.”
Lilly was taken aback. It was a little too soon for Mazy to
be so forward, and as for Chanis, she wouldn’t have thought he had a flirtatious bone in his body. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve of them enjoying each other’s company, but she expected decorum to be demonstrated.
“Sheriff Clay, perhaps you can stop later in the day to attend to the matter we discussed?”
Chanis tore his gaze from Mazy. Lilly was rewarded to see his face flush with embarrassment. “Yes, ma’am, Dr. Still. Sorry, I forgot my manners there for a minute.”
Mazy, on the other hand, didn’t have a clue. “Sure you don’t want this cake?” she said, flashing her dimples.
“I’d best get back to work,” he said with a tip of his hat. “Dr. Still, Miss Pelfrey. It was good to see you.”
“Shoot,” Mazy said as he walked away. “I didn’t buy this cake for myself.”
“Mazy Pelfrey, I’m not at all pleased with your behavior just now.”
“What did I do wrong?”
Lilly looked around to make sure no one could overhear. “When you are in the company of a young man, you act like a lady. You don’t bat your eyes and you don’t swing your skirts. What would Mama say?”
Mazy looked as guileless as Kip would just before he stole somebody’s supper. “It’s not as if I’ve had any practice! Daddy wouldn’t let me or Molly off the porch. Why, I had to sneak out after dark to . . .”
“See T. M.?” Lilly asked, remembering the initialed heart on the bathroom mirror.
“It was only once, Lilly, and I only went as far as the apple tree. We didn’t hold hands or anything.” Mazy tossed her head. “I don’t like him anymore anyway. He is just a boy.”
“And Chanis Clay is?”
“A man,” she said, as serious as if Lilly had asked a test question. “Don’t worry, though. I’m just trying him out.”
“I can see why Daddy kept you on the porch.”
Mazy sighed dramatically. “Goodness gracious, Lilly. I think you are out of sorts again.” With that she flounced up the road toward the clinic. The little brown sack flounced with her.
Lilly saw that she would need to take a different tack with Mazy. Maybe she had been too harsh. It wasn’t as if Chanis Clay would take advantage. On the other hand, Chanis was not the only man in Skip Rock. A girl like Mazy could attract the wrong sort of fellow. Lilly had seen too many young women ruined and abandoned after being swayed by the romance of the moment. It was hard to stop a train once it left the station. She wondered if Mama had had
the talk
with Mazy.
She remembered with a smile when Mama had first talked to her about the birds and the bees. Lilly had been as presumptuous as Mazy, if in a different way, saying, “I know all about it already, Mama. There’s a whole chapter about procreation in your obstetrical book.” After bedtime that night, she’d heard her mama and daddy sharing a laugh over her pronouncement that she knew it all already. Of course she hadn’t known it all. And truthfully, she wasn’t interested in
anything outside the pages of a book until she was courted by Tern. Their marriage license was signed, sealed, and delivered before she chanced to learn what waited outside the facts. Perhaps that’s why she was having such difficulty relating to Mazy.
As Lilly walked, drumbeats of pain pulsed in her temples. Maybe she’d just chain Mazy to the bed or, better yet, send her back to Troublesome Creek.
If her head didn’t hurt, she’d laugh at herself. If her mother and daddy could handle her leaving home at seventeen to attend college in the big city, she supposed she could handle Mazy’s mild flirtation.
The office was swamped. The nurse said all the folks who’d left earlier had returned, which backed up the scheduled afternoon patients. Lilly took her seat behind her desk. A little brown sack sat waiting for her.
“Give me a minute before you start sending them in,” she said to the nurse as she silently blessed Mazy’s heart. Chocolate was good for headaches.
The hog under Anne’s porch
grunted a greeting when Lilly climbed the steps on Friday morning. She fought an urge to cover her nose. Besides being unsanitary, the sty didn’t give off the most pleasant odor. She wondered why Anne’s husband hadn’t put the pig out behind the barn as most farmers would.
Before she could raise her hand to knock, the door swung open.
“Mumph,” a tall, skinny man grunted before upending a bucket of slop over the side of the porch. The hog squealed with delight.
The man set the blue granite bucket down and left without another word. A long-legged red hound dog sniffed Lilly’s ankles before following him across the yard.
“Cletus, I wish you’d rinse the bucket before you set it down,” Anne yelled to his back as she stepped outside and pounded the porch floor with the handle of a broom. “Settle down, Sassy. Go on in, Doc. The baby’s under the table.” She picked up the bucket. “I’m just going to the well and wash this out. Otherwise it’ll stink up the house.”
Amy was in a high chair pushed up to the table. She flashed a grin at Lilly and held out her spoon. “Eat?”
Lilly pretended to eat oatmeal from Amy’s spoon. Amy chortled and fed herself.
“Where’s Glory? Where’s the baby?”
Amy leaned over the side of the chair and pointed with her spoon. “Baba dere.”
Glory was sleeping on her belly in the Moses basket. Lilly was pleased to see her face was turned to the side. Given her poor muscle tone, she might not be able to free herself if her nose got pressed into the pillow that served as a mattress. A fragile tracery of veins was visible under her patchy blonde hair. The baby didn’t wake up when Lilly bent to slide the bell of the stethoscope to her tiny chest.
From the chair, Amy tapped the back of Lilly’s head with her spoon. When Lilly stood, the child pulled her own undershirt up.
“This one’s sharp as a tack,” Lilly said, placing the bell over Amy’s heart as Anne returned.
“Ain’t she, though?” Anne replied. She parted the feed-sack curtains tacked to a makeshift washstand and slid the slop bucket out of sight. “So how do you find the wee one?”
Lilly put the stethoscope in her bag and snapped it shut. “Do you mind if I wake her?”
“Watch this.” Anne wiped Amy’s hands and face with a wet rag and lifted her from the high chair.
Amy went right for the basket and knelt. With one chubby hand, she gently patted the baby’s back. “Moring, sunsine, uppy uppy.”
“Morning, sunshine,” Anne interpreted. “Up, up.”
The baby stirred under Amy’s hand. Amy flashed a toothy grin. “Baba up.”
Lilly did a cursory exam before taking a portable infant scale from her linen carryall. Amy watched intently as she assembled it atop the kitchen table.
Anne stripped the baby and positioned her in the sturdy cotton sling. The needle swung back and forth before settling on six pounds, three ounces. “Oh, look, she’s gained four ounces since we weighed her Wednesday morning.”
“A result of your good care, Anne. I wish we knew her birth weight.”
Anne reapplied the diaper and tucked the infant’s floppy arms into her long cotton sleeper. Amy tugged the sleeper down over Glory’s legs. “Dere,” she said, a proud little mama.
“So you’re saying she’s getting better?”
“Her heart’s the same, but the weight gain is a good sign.” Lilly held the baby’s tongue down with a wooden depressor and looked for white patches on the mucous membranes. “Any sign of thrush?”
“No, Amy never had it, either. I keep everything real clean.”
Lilly slid the depressor out. “There’s no doubt in my mind about that, Anne.”
Amy grabbed for the depressor. Lilly gave her a clean one. Just then, the pig set to squealing.
Anne threw back her head and laughed. “Just because I keep a pig under the porch . . .”
“Ah,” Lilly said, joining the laughter. “I expect that pig gets a bath every Saturday night.”
“I would if I had me a big enough pan.” Anne dabbed tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes. “Seriously, Doc Still. If you were to say something to Cletus, I bet he’d move Sassy’s sty.”
“Might I ask why he put the pen there?”
“He said it’d be the easier, seeing as all he had to do was nail some two-by-fours to the porch posts. And I really wanted that pig, so I agreed. You know when it comes to men, you’ve got to give a little to get a little.”
Lilly nodded. That was so true.
“Now, I ain’t speaking ill of my husband. To my mind, the only thing uglier than a woman ragging on her man is one dipping snuff. But I will admit that Cletus is somewhat work brittle.” Anne fidgeted with her apron and looked away from Lilly. “Which reminds me, Doc, did you happen to bring my wages? It being Friday and all.”
“Oh, where’s my mind?” Lilly said. She laid Glory back in the basket and took an envelope containing a few bills from her bag. “I’m sorry you had to remind me.”
Anne opened the warming oven atop the cookstove and tucked the envelope inside. “What Cletus don’t know won’t hurt him,” she said. “Or me.”
“Gracious, Anne, aren’t you afraid you’ll forget and burn it up?”
“I’ve got a hidey-hole in the barn. I’ll put it in there when he ain’t about.”
Amy had settled beside Glory in the basket. Her feet hung over the edge. Anne covered the girls with a lightweight flannel baby blanket. “They’ll take a good nap,” she said.
Lilly disassembled the baby scale while Anne poured sassafras tea into cups. Lilly had to restrain herself from looking at her watch. The morning was slipping away, but it seemed that Anne needed to talk.
“Sweetening?” Anne asked, offering a bowl of brown sugar.
Lilly stirred half a teaspoon into her licorice-scented tea and took a sip. “Mmm, my mother used to make this for me.”
“Cletus found a sassafras tree up on the ridge and dug up a root. He’s always bringing in something extra. Yesterday it was mushrooms
—reminds me to give you some to take home
—and greens for a poke salad.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean to make him sound worthless. It’s just he . . . Well, if he has a penny, he’ll try to turn it into two. In a coal mining town there’s always a game going on, if you catch my drift.” Her spoon went round and round in her cup. The tea swirled like a tiny copper-colored whirlpool.
“How do you manage, Anne? Who watches your daughter when you work nights?”
“If Cletus ain’t out roaming, he does. He’s never let me down as far as Amy goes. He’s real good with her. If he’s gone, I take Amy over to my sister’s. A couple of times, she’s slept at the clinic in the supply closet.” She put her hands up in a what-can-you-do gesture.
Anne seemed to have forgotten to whom she was speaking. This was a bit of information best not shared with Lilly. A hospital, even a small one, couldn’t have babies sleeping on the premises. When Anne returned to work, Lilly would have to address the issue. Not to mention, Lilly hadn’t thought about what would happen in her own situation. Who would look after her baby when she was off to work and Tern was who knows where? The art of being a woman presented a myriad of problems not faced by men, and for a workingwoman, it seemed the complexity of life increased a hundredfold. Why was everything on the woman’s shoulders?
While Anne sliced fresh-baked gingerbread, Lilly thought of her own mother. As the only midwife on Troublesome Creek, she was often called out in the middle of the night and sometimes she would be gone for days, yet Lilly couldn’t recall ever feeling abandoned or less than completely cherished. Oh, she needed to talk to her mother. Mama would help her figure everything out.
Anne offered her a fork. The cake was rich and moist, just the way Lilly liked it. She’d better be careful. Chocolate cake
yesterday and gingerbread today
—she’d soon be letting out her skirts for more reasons than one.
It was eventide before Lilly had a chance to pen a letter to her mother. She’d thought of calling the Troublesome Creek post office, which contained the area’s one telephone, and asking the postmaster to get a message to Mama asking her to call Lilly back. But she thought better of it. Receiving a telephone message was much like receiving a telegram: too often a portent of bad news to come.
She carried her portable writing desk to the dining room, where she could sit in a chair beside the open window. Outside, the pink and white peony bushes were in full bloom, nearly past their prime, and their lush scent drifted in like a sweet benediction. She kicked off her slippers and rested the soles of her feet against the cool hardwood floor. By the end of the day her feet often hurt. If her husband were home, he would massage them with scented lotion. Where was a man when you needed one?
Mazy was out for a walk with Chanis Clay. Lilly had had a word with him and she trusted he would be respectful. She had yet to talk seriously with Mazy, but the time would come. They had taken Kip, so she should be able to write without interruption.
The inside of her desk had various-size compartments: one for business envelopes, one for personal correspondence, one for stationery, one for clean blotters. There was even a small drawer for miscellaneous items like stamps and nibs.
She chose two sheets of lavender-scented stationery and a matching envelope.
Lilly loved the art of writing. She liked the mechanics of unscrewing the metal lid from the small pot of navy-blue ink and relished the piercing scent of ferrous sulfate released like a fluid genie from the bottle. It mattered to her that the ink pot fit perfectly into the inkwell atop the desk, and she enjoyed the heft of her favorite tortoiseshell pen when she dipped its nib into the dark liquid, spreading tiny ripples across the surface. She was particular about her ink. Too thin and it dripped off the nib in ugly splotches, ruining the pristine page; too thick and it left dregs of goopy snail’s tracks.
The ink flowed perfectly in lovely swirls as she began:
My dearest Mama,
I trust this letter finds you, as well as Daddy and Molly and the boys, enjoying these long midsummer days. My mind wanders with you through the garden and along the creek, perhaps to the bench under the willow tree, where we could sit and talk for a while in the cool of the evening.
Mazy is well
—perhaps too well. She is quite taken with a fellow. Chanis Clay is the sheriff here in Skip Rock and a fine young man. But you know, Mama, Mazy follows her heart and never her head, and so I watch her carefully. I am allowing them to take short walks together, always with Kip to chaperone. (I send a smile along with
the last sentence.) I hope you don’t disapprove, as I’m sure Daddy does, but she will soon be eighteen.
You and Daddy both will be pleased to learn that Mazy started helping out in the clinic this week. She catches on quickly and does good work when it is in her interest. It is really quite nice to have her here, especially now that it seems Tern might be gone for the rest of the summer. Tell Daddy there was a major accident at a mine in Canada that begged Tern’s attention. He might be able to read about it in the
Lexington Herald
newspaper. A patient told me he saw the story coming over the wire when he went to town to place a telegraph message. It will be old news but still news when the postman delivers it to your mailbox.
My practice is busy, Mama, and sometimes difficult. You will be distressed to learn that a baby appears to have been abandoned in our community. The little thing is quite compromised physically and more than likely intellectually. For the by-and-by, she is in the care of a local nurse. No one seems to be looking for the baby. At first, I was in fear for her mother, but the sheriff thinks the baby was just thrown out with the bathwater and I tend to agree. As if that weren’t tragedy enough, yesterday a local man was killed when he was hit by a train on a nearby track. Of course, I’m thankful for my training and for being of assistance, but still, one’s heart aches at times. Just as I’ve watched you do in moments of travail, I cling to Scripture for solace.
“He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.” Is there another verse as lovely, as comforting, as these words from King David?
Lilly dipped her pen and drew a fanciful vine with leaves and flowers across the page to separate the busy news from the delicate and private words that were for her mother alone.
My dearest Mama, I have news that I am sure you long to hear. My heart is so full with it that I’m holding back tears that threaten to spill over onto the page. I’m twelve weeks with new life. A tiny heart beats beneath my own. How to explain the joy mixed with trepidation this presents to me?
Did this happen when you became expectant with me, Mama? Did you know before you even missed, as I did? From the very first moment, I was aware. I left my husband’s embrace with the surety that life had quickened from our time together. And with awareness, strange fears and odd superstitions beset me. I watch for signs
—if a wren swoops in through an open door, a loss is coming. If the robin builds her nest in the apple tree, then my nest is secure. Both have happened, so what does it mean? Because my trust is in the Lord, I know these things have no import, but I seem to no longer be in charge of my mental faculties. (Another smile here.)
I’ve told no one, although I attempted to tell Tern via telephone, for who knows when I will see him next?
It was unsettling to have the words carefully formed for expression only to have them abruptly denied by something as impersonal as a telephone line.
You would laugh to see me already stretching the waistbands of my skirts. It seems I am showing very early. Oh, Mama, surely this doesn’t mean twins! Twins like Molly and Mazy! I hadn’t thought of the possibility until this moment. Now I suppose I will have true signs to watch for, like two heartbeats instead of one. I will be so relieved when enough time has passed that I can hear my little one’s life force through the bell of my stethoscope or feel him kick against my belly. Him? We’ll see, but I feel sure.
I so wish I could see your face when you read these words. I miss you more than I can express. Thank you again for allowing Mazy to come for the summer. I pray you can somehow find a way to visit soon. I forgot to say I now have a telephone in the house
—the number is 32
—and one in the office, number 33. Please call; I long to hear your voice.