The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 5

  “Maybe…” Should she offer? Addie had never used a sewing machine nor done any kind of stitchwork. She might do more harm than good. But perhaps Griselda Ann could teach her. Daddy always said the wise person grasped opportunities for learning. She touched the woman’s arm. “If you show me how, I could cut the clothes into pieces for you. I could…help.”

  Griselda Ann’s face lit. “Oh, if I had fabric squares ready to go, I could double the number of tops produced in a week.” She grabbed Addie in a hug so tight it stole her breath. “Thank you.”

  Addie laughed, wriggling. Griselda Ann released her hold, and Addie smiled. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for your kindness. Truly, I don’t know what I’d do if you hadn’t offered me a place to stay.” What a wonderful feeling, to know she was secure. For now. But Mother always advised against overstaying one’s welcome. “I want you to know, I won’t take advantage of your kindness. I intend to keep seeking employment, and as soon as I have a job, I will find a room to let.”

  Would her wages be enough to cover rent, meals, and the outstanding bill at the college? Daddy didn’t have money to pay the remaining balance, which left the debt up to her. An ache formed in her belly.

  Griselda Ann chuckled softly. “You might tire of me before I tire of you. I haven’t had anyone else living under this roof since my mama graduated to Glory seven years ago. I’ve become rather set in my ways.”

  “You tell me right away if I do something that disturbs you.”

  Griselda Ann glanced at Addie’s suitcases. A slight frown creased her face. “Perhaps you’d like to put your clothing in the closet? There are shelves and hooks available. Then tuck your cases under the bed. I’ll start our supper, and you can assist with that when you have the room tidy again.”

  Addie could hardly call this room tidy, given its mountains of clothes and cluttered appearance. But her suitcases didn’t belong on the quilt pieced by Griselda Ann’s mother. She reached for the smaller suitcase. “I’ll be out quick as a wink.”

  Griselda Ann nodded. “And after supper, I’ll show you how to cut usable squares from the clothes. You can cut some more tomorrow when your shift at the library is done.”

  Mrs. Hunt had granted Addie permission to attend the college graduation ceremony instead of coming to the library for her final Saturday shift, but Addie declined. She needed those wages. Addie smiled. “I’ll cut patches clear past bedtime if you’d like me to.”

  Griselda Ann’s eyes widened. “Oh, we mustn’t stay up late tomorrow. We will attend church service Sunday morning, and yawning during a sermon is most certainly a sin.”

  Emmett

  WAS HE REALLY graduating? The week of final examinations had gone so fast that Emmett still couldn’t believe it was over. He’d prepared well and performed his best on every exam. Spence had poked fun at his undivided focus, but he’d been given money by the college to take these classes. He owed the scholarship committee members his best efforts. Between examinations, he visited each of the businesses in town that had posted job openings and talked to the hiring agents. Some were blunt, some acted sheepish, and others seemed flat-out bored, but every one of them sent him away with a “No thanks.” The reason? His degree.

  “Sorry, young man,” the agent at the chicken-processing plant, the kindest of the men, had told him, “but there ain’t even a ghost of a chance we’ll hire you. Somebody with your education ain’t gonna be happy yankin’ feathers from a chicken carcass. No, you need to hire on at a bank or big department store or even with one o’ the minin’ outfits—they got office jobs, too, y’know. But we can’t use ya here. Nope, not here.”

  The man’s dismal statements rolled in the back of Emmett’s mind when he should have been listening to the guest speaker at the graduation ceremony. Maybe he shouldn’t have come for the ceremony. But he’d worked so hard for his diploma. It seemed as if he’d earned the right to cross the stage and shake the college president’s hand like the others. So he lined up with everyone else and waited his turn. Since they went in alphabetical order, he waited a pretty long time while the sun scorched through his robe and the wind tried to yank the cardboard hat from his head.

  “Emmett Emil Tharp.”

  Emmett watched the toes of his shoes poking out from the hem of his gown—how did ladies make walking in gowns look so graceful?—and climbed the three wobbly steps to the stage set up in the middle of the football field. There wasn’t anybody in the audience celebrating his accomplishments. Nobody who clapped extra hard or let out whoops of joy for him, as happened for many of his fellow graduates. The half-hearted applause given to be polite tried to dull some of the shine of receiving his rolled-up sheepskin from President McVey, but he told himself to be proud, the way Maw would be proud. He could imagine what she’d say to him right then: “Son, you’re the first college graduate to hail from Boone’s Holler, Kentucky. Just ’cause nobody else knows you done somethin’ extra special don’t mean it ain’t special.”

  Planting Maw’s voice in his head helped, and he left the stage with a smile and a firm grip on his diploma.

  When the last student received his diploma, the dean of the College of Law stepped up to the podium and delivered a lengthy prayer of blessing over the graduating class of 1936. At his somber “amen,” as they’d planned before marching in procession onto the field, the male graduates snatched off their caps and threw them in the air with shouts of glee. Emmett threw his cap, but he didn’t holler. A lump seemed stuck in his throat, and a shout couldn’t escape.

  Students milled in a mob, some of the girls hugging one another and most of the boys slapping one another on the back. Emmett worked his way to the edge of the group, holding his diploma against his chest. He wanted to keep it nice until he got home and showed it to Maw and Mr. Halcomb. After they’d taken their fill of gawking at it, he’d put it away in his trunk, and it could get smashed flat in there.

  Spence trotted up to him, grinning big. He’d already gotten rid of his gown somewhere and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He looked a lot more comfortable than Emmett felt. Spence gave Emmett’s shoulder a whack. “Well, ol’ bloke, I reckon this is it, time to say goodbye.”

  Emmett couldn’t honestly say he and Spence had been good friends. Not like he’d been with his longtime buddy from back home, Shay Leeson. But after four years of rooming together, he’d gotten used to the freckle-faced man. He might even miss seeing him every day.

  He bounced his fist on Spence’s shoulder. “Reckon we’ll see each other in our room later on. Still have to pack up. No need to say goodbye yet.”

  Spence shook his head. “I’m headin’ home with my folks now. Dad’ll send somebody next week for my stuff. ’Course”—he put his hands on his hips and gave a mock scowl—“that means I’m trusting you not to take my clothes back to Boone’s Hollow with you.”

  Emmett laughed. Spence was six inches shorter and probably forty pounds lighter. Not even Maw, who was clever with a needle, would be able to stretch the fabric and make Spence’s clothes fit Emmett. But maybe she could shrink them down for his little brother. The eight-year-old was closer to Spence’s size than Emmett was. Emmett couldn’t imagine Dusty wearing such fancy duds, though. “Your stuff’s safe, Spence. You can trust me on that.”

  “Aw, I know it. Just joshin’ you. Well…” He walked backward and gave a salute. “Nice knowin’ you, Emmett Tharp. Take good care now.”

  Emmett waved, then turned toward Bradley Hall. He worked his way between groups of chattering, celebrating students and families, feeling more alone with every step. He’d hoped for a job here in Lexington, but the kind of job he wanted—the kind for which people would hire a man with a BS in commerce—probably wouldn’t exist until the country got on its feet again. That might be years from now. So there really wasn’t any other choice except to do what Spence said and go back to Boone’s Hollow.

&nb
sp; He reached the men’s dormitory and slung off his robe, careful not to catch his diploma in the fabric. He flopped the robe over his arm and climbed the stairs. Slow. Plodding. Putting things off. Because once he packed up, what would he do? Go home, for sure. He wanted to see Maw, Paw, and Dusty. But after that…what?

  Like the wind yanking at his hat, a remembrance breezed through him. What had the hiring agent at the chicken plant told him he should do? Try hiring on with a mining outfit because they had office jobs. He came to a halt midstep, letting out a huff. Why hadn’t he thought of it himself? Of course the mining companies needed office workers. And what better mining company to work for than the US Coal & Coke Company in Lynch, where Paw had worked for the last fifteen years?

  Hope lifted his spirits. He jogged the rest of the way to his room and dragged his old carpetbag from under his bed. He’d pack, head to the station, and catch the first train to Lynch.

  Boone’s Hollow

  Bettina Webber

  BETTINA TAPPED HER FINGERTIP ON the big black number in the middle of the square on the calendar page. She nudged her friend with her elbow. “This here’s the day, Glory. Emmett’s graduation-from-college day. He’s all done with his schoolin’ now, so he’ll be comin’ home.”

  Glory squinted at the calendar. “How do ya know for sure today’s his”—she scrunched her face the way they used to do when biting into persimmons—“gradjee-a-shun? It ain’t wrote on there.”

  Bettina rolled her eyes. “Like I’d scribble up my Christmas present.” Pap had ordered the calendar from the Sears ’n’ Roebuck catalog, and he’d even let Bettina hang it in her bedroom instead of putting it out in the main room of their cabin, so it was hers. She loved admiring its photo of the Dionne quintuplets from Canada all lined up in pretty little ruffled gowns. Bettina’d never seen fancier gowns on babies, nor on nobody else for that matter.

  She leaned against the chinked log wall and slid her hands into the pockets of her baggy overalls. “I know for sure ’cause way back in January his maw told me his graduatin’ day was the fourth Saturday in May, an’ I tucked it way inside my head. Been countin’ the days off one by one. An’ now it’s here. An’ he’ll be comin’ home for good this time, not just for a short spell.”

  A smile pulled on the corners of Bettina’s lips. When Emmett was home for good, they could really get to sparking. Seemed like she’d waited forever, but wouldn’t be long now and she’d be putting on a fine gown. Not as fine as the ones those little babies were wearing, but finer than any of the folks from around here had seen before. She’d already used some of her WPA money and bought one at the company store in Lynch—a creamy ivory crepe with real lace at the collar and a pale blue silk ribbon bow floating over the bodice like a waterfall down a hill. Pap had bellowed like a mad bull when he found out about it, but what did she care? She’d be a married-up woman soon, so she didn’t have to answer to Pap no more.

  Should she show the dress to Glory and watch her turn green with envy? Might be fun, but even better was saving it, letting Emmett be the first one to see her in it. She closed her eyes, imagining herself in that pretty dress with her brown hair done up in curls. Emmett’d wear a black suit, and the two of them would stand so proud in front of the preacher. Everybody in the church would cry tears of pure joy when she pledged herself to Emmett for the rest of her earthly days. Her whole frame gave a little shiver, and she popped her eyes open.

  Glory was grinning. “Soon as he’s home, reckon I know what you’ll be doin’.”

  “You’re right about that.” Bettina hunched her shoulders and giggled. “An’ high time, too.”

  “You’re so lucky, Bettina.” Glory plopped onto the edge of Bettina’s bed. The ropes squeaked like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap.

  Bettina hated them traps. And she hated that sound. She sat next to Glory, real careful so the ropes wouldn’t squawk. “Don’t I know it? When me an’ Emmett get our house, we’ll buy a real bed frame an’ one o’ those sets with a box spring an’ a cotton-filled mattress to put on top, like they got at the store in Lynch. No more straw-filled sack laid out over a tangle of ropes.” She slapped the patchwork quilt hiding the offending bed from view. “No sirree, me an’ Emmett’ll live fine as frog’s hair. Now that he’s got goodly educated, he’ll be takin’ a high-payin’ job.”

  Glory’s jaw dropped open. “You figure on movin’ to the city?”

  Bettina shrugged. She rose and sashayed to the corner of the small room, swaying her hips the way the movie starlets from the picture shows at the Lynch theater did. She spun and faced Glory, giving her head a toss. The starlets did that, too, and it looked real sassy. “Don’t see how we can avoid it. Ain’t no work around here worth havin’.” If it wasn’t for President Roosevelt wanting the folks living up in the hills to have books to read, she wouldn’t have a job at all. She didn’t much like making that long trek up into the mountains every day, hauling a heavy leather satchel full of books, but she sure liked having her own money to spend. What of her pay Pap let her keep, that is. But she’d give up the whole pay in the flash of sunlight on a large mouth bass’s belly to be Mrs. Emmett Tharp.

  Glory bounced up and caught Bettina in a hug. The smell from her family’s last dinner—sauerkraut, baked apples, and smoked beans—filled Bettina’s nostrils, and she angled her face as far from Glory’s tangled hair as possible. She wouldn’t never cook sauerkraut nor beans for Emmett when they was wed.

  “I’m gonna miss you somethin’ fierce.” Glory held Bettina so tight she near cut off Bettina’s breath. “You an’ me been friends since we was hardly out o’ the cradle.”

  Bettina gave Glory’s pointy shoulder blades a quick pat, then wriggled loose. “No sense in carryin’ on while I’m still here. Reckon me an’ Emmett’ll want a little time for courtin’ before we take our nuptials. But when our weddin’ day comes…” She took hold of Glory’s hands and looked her friend straight in the eyes. “I’m gonna want you to stand up front with me.”

  Glory’s brown eyes near popped out of her head. She squealed so loud that Bettina’s ears rang.

  She clamped her hand over Glory’s mouth. “Hush that! My pap hears you, he’ll wanna know why you’re caterwaulin’, an’ I don’t want him squashin’ none o’ my plans. You gonna be quiet?”

  Glory nodded, and Bettina let go of her mouth. Glory clasped her hands under her chin. “I’m so excited, Bettina. I can’t hardly wait for your weddin’.”

  “Me neither.” Bettina scowled at her closed door. “If Pap has his way, I’ll be here cookin’ his meals an’ washin’ his clothes ’til I’m as old as Nanny Fay.”

  Glory laughed. “Won’t nobody ’round here live as long as Nanny Fay. My maw says she’s stirred up a special tonic for stayin’ alive an’ she’s really over a hunnerd years old.”

  Bettina didn’t care how old the herb lady was. She only cared about Emmett understanding how old Bettina was. When Emmett had left for that college in the city, she’d been nothing more than a little girl, still climbing trees and taking aim at squirrels with a slingshot. But that hadn’t kept her from giving her heart to him. Now she was eighteen, a full-growed woman. And she needed him to see her as more than the bothersome little girl who’d tagged after him and his friends.

  She folded her arms over her chest and tossed her head again. “Emmett’ll likely be home tomorrow. Day after at the latest. I gotta be ready. Wanna help me wash my hair?”

  Glory’s blue eyes sparkled. “An’ rinse it with your lily-o’-the-valley toilet water so it smells all good?”

  Guilt tried to grab Bettina. In actuality, the toilet water belonged to her maw, given to her by Pap their last Christmas together. But Maw was dead and buried. She didn’t need it no more, and she’d want Bettina to use it for something as important as Emmett coming home again. She nodded. “Been savin’ it up special, just for him.”

>   Glory grabbed Bettina’s hand. “Let’s hurry. In case he gets home tonight already.”

  Bettina didn’t figure he’d make it all the way from Lexington on the same day as his graduation, but she didn’t mind hurrying. Maybe her hurrying would hurry him.

  Lynch

  Emmett

  THANK GOODNESS THE Louisville and Nashville Railroad sent two passenger trains on a line through the coal-mining towns every day, including Sunday. Emmett caught the midmorning train and arrived at the red-painted Lynch depot a little after one o’clock, right on schedule. With it being Sunday, he hadn’t expected a lot of activity in town. The coal miners were likely enjoying their single day off by relaxing. Not to mention the biblical admonition most folks honored about keeping the Lord’s day holy. But after the constant bustle of activity on the college campus, the stillness was almost unsettling.

  He fetched his battered carpetbag from the deck, nodded hello to an elderly woman sitting on a trunk, fanning herself, then set off on the main street, heading west. If he were a crow, he could fly straight north about a thousand feet and light in Boone’s Hollow. But no way a man toting a heavy bag could walk that uphill climb through all the trees and undergrowth. Even without the encumbrance of a carpetbag, a fellow would be taxed by the climb. He’d take the mile-long dirt road that wound its way up Black Mountain to the little town where he’d been born and raised.

  The sun beat down, making him drip sweat under his suit coat. He considered taking the jacket off, but then he’d have to carry it. Toting the bag that held his textbooks, diploma, and a few articles of clothing was enough. Besides, when he came walking into Boone’s Hollow, he wanted to be dressed like a gentleman. Paw might say he was putting on airs, but he wanted Maw to be proud of him. He’d put up with the heat.

  He left the main road and started up the mountain road carved out of the forest more than fifty years ago. Beech and hemlock trees grew thick on both sides and blocked most of the sun. They couldn’t block the humidity, though. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his face. He used his handkerchief to wipe it away and blinked hard against the sting in his eyes. He squinted at the trees—at their trunks and leaves—and calculated his distance by what was growing. The tall beech and shaggy hemlock gave way to birch, hickory, magnolias already showy with pink or white blooms, and an abundance of maple. Paw used to tease when they walked up this road that if they stumbled onto chestnut or oak trees, they’d know they’d gone too far. Emmett didn’t intend to reach the oaks and chestnuts today. Getting to Boone’s Hollow would be distance enough.