“Wrenna Abbott.” Pearl climbed off Pie, and we walked beside each other.
“Uh-huh. About three miles north of Emma and Wrenna’s place, there’s a tiny homestead stitched into the mountain. That’s Comfort Marshall’s home.”
“I heard talk of her in town. Didn’t she lose all her babies one year?”
“In 1936,” I said solemnly. “Lot of folks died of the pellagra back then. Hunger killed so many of our folk. Mama takes me up there on Decoration Day and we clean the cemetery for her.” I tucked stray hair behind my ear, and it snagged one of the earrings. Quickly, I pressed a palm to it, making sure I hadn’t lost the precious pearl.
“How are they healing up?” She pointed to my earlobe, touching her own.
“Oh, I best get these back to you. I’m sorry, it’s been too long.” I started to unscrew the backs and pass them to her.
“Go ahead and keep them, Honey. They’re yours.”
I’d been saving for my other parents’ headstone and didn’t have enough money to buy a pair yet. “I have thread at home I can use. I couldn’t—”
“Anyone who’s brave enough to suffer my piercings and live through a fire with me is fine enough to have my earrings.” She laughed. “Mother bought me two sets. Besides, you’ll look real pretty wearing them at your hearing.”
“Obliged. They’re lovely, Pearl, but I should be giving you earrings after you saved me in the fire. I’ll take good care of them.” It was a generous gift and one I would treasure.
We walked on, enjoying the new bursts of a heavily perfumed spring. Occasionally, I’d stop to point out the names of herbs and flowers, recalling the remedies Mama or Retta used them for. “There’s a cluster of ghost pipe. Retta would always make a tonic for her eyes and to help with the stiffness of her ol’ bones.”
Pearl knelt down and inspected the strange, translucent white stalks with the bell-like blooms that drooped to the ground.
“Oh, Birdie MacKinnon’s place is up there at the top,” I told Pearl. “She was a Pack Horse librarian like Mama. Her route was mostly along the creeks, and sometimes she’d deliver the books in her small boat. She left for the city to join her husband who’d found factory work, only to return with their son a year later.”
“Bet the librarians knew the land better than anyone,” Pearl remarked.
Ahead, I spotted a book on the ground and ran over to it. “This is Wrenna’s. I’ve been looking for her on my route.” I picked it up.
“The Doll’s House was one of my favorites,” Pearl said. “I just adored Tottie.”
I wiped my sleeve over the cover, brushing off a damp leaf. “Doesn’t make sense; it’s her favorite. She wouldn’t leave it out here like this.” I scanned the area. “Wrenna?” I called. “Wrenna, it’s me, Book Woman.” No answer. Pearl glanced around too.
“You know how kids are always losing things. I’m sure she’s fine,” she said.
I cocked my head, listening, turning slowly around. In a minute, I heard strange noises over by a cluster of brush and briar. “Did you hear that?” I asked.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
Junia hawed and pinned her ears straight up like she had.
“There.” I nudged my chin to a large cluster of shrubs. The mule snorted as I walked her over. Then she stopped and refused to go any farther. I tugged, she pulled back and all but sat down on her haunches, baring brown-stained teeth and shaking her head.
“Here, Pearl, hold her reins while I check over here behind this brush.” But when Junia saw me leaving, she jerked free and hurried to my side. Quickly, I grabbed the reins. Pearl followed closely behind.