His eyes were cruel, downright deadly, and I thought about Guyla Belle and the broken bottle and the lurking shadows inside her cabin. I wondered what he’d done to her, worried that maybe she had not escaped, but instead, he’d hurt Guyla Belle and locked her up inside their home.
“Mr. Gillis, please let me pass,” I said, shaken, lowering my head. “Please, sir.”
Suddenly, Bonnie stepped in between us and knocked the lighter out of Gillis’s hand. He smacked at her head, and she ducked, yanked me away from him, pulling me to safety.
“Go on with your business, sweet pea,” she said a few feet from the Company store, cutting angry eyes to Gillis. “I’ll make sure he don’t bother ya.”
I looked over my shoulder at Gillis’s reddening face and shuddered.
Thirty
At Mr. Geary’s kitchen table, I counted out $121.23 for the marker, then once again as his wife served a basket of rolls to go with our coffee. After using all Retta’s silver coins and what was left of my paycheck, I had 14 cents left.
I was proud, pleased that Retta would have such a fine marker. Earlier, inside Mr. Geary’s work building, he’d helped me pick out an angel to perch atop the modest monument, and promised he would have the marble stone polished, lettered, and installed at the Adams cemetery by the end of May. It was the perfect angel, and I ran a palm over the white marble, admiring the craftsmanship and beauty.
We talked about getting my deceased parents a marker, and Mr. Geary said he could do a fine one for $119. After the man tallied up more numbers, he promised to take a $17 deposit, saying I could pay him monthly for the Moffits’ tombstone. I told him I would bring back a deposit soon.
Mama had told me a few stories about Angeline, but rarely mentioned Willie, only that they both had a hankering for the books, the learning. And with Angeline being the strength behind it, and wanting the books and book learning for me. I wish I could’ve met my first parents, could’ve had more of them.
I rode a tired Junia home as the sun sank in the western skies and a soft rain began to fall. That night as I listened to the pattering of rain hitting the tin roof, I snuggled under the bedcovers and found a contentment, a peace washing over me, grateful for Retta’s stone and relieved my parents, Angeline and Willie, would finally have one, too, rather than the small crude rocks that marked their graves.
***
As I climbed the fire tower, Pearl hollered from above, welcoming me up.
Up in the cab, I dropped the bag on the floor and pulled out Pearl’s new loans. I set them next to the Osborne and packed last week’s reading material back inside my bag.
Pearl chatted cheerfully as she cut slices of pie and poured us iced tea. When she was through, she sat down.
I leaned across the table. “I’ve got news.”
“I do too!” she exclaimed, and I saw the secret play across her eyes. “You go first, Honey.” She put her napkin in her lap and cut into her pie.
I picked up the folded linen and placed it directly on my lap. “Mr. Morgan is going to seek my emancipation with the court.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where the courts can grant freedom to any minor if they have good reason.”
“Freedom… Imagine, no more worries!” Pearl marveled. “I can see more in your eyes.” She laughed. “Go on, do tell.”
“I met a boy.”
Pearl’s eyes widened, and she whispered, “I did too. Tell me about your fella first.”
“It’s Francis down at the Company store.”
“Oh, he’s cute,” she said. “That smile and those dimples.”