“I don’t mind,” she said. “It’s real important to keep track of it all, and it helps me when I go scout out any campfires or sleepers from lightning strikes. When berry-picking time is here, it’ll keep me extra busy. We get a lot of fires when people are in the forest and leaving behind trash.”
I straightened the ledgers back up, then ran a fingertip across the top of the telephone while peering at the numbers printed on its white round face.
Pearl turned around and raised a fork above the lard-spitting skillet. “Go ahead, Honey, you can telephone someone if you like. R.C. had it installed last week.”
“I’ve never talked on one. Don’t even know anyone who owns a telephone,” I said, amazed. “Maybe the town doc. The only ones I’ve seen up close are the pay booth inside of the Company store and the two pay telephones hanging on the wall in the courthouse hall.”
She turned back to her skillet. “We’ll call my mother later, and I’ll let you say hello. Have a seat.”
My hand lingered on the dial and I frowned, thinking about Mama and Papa. If only I could speak to them now. Pick up the telephone anytime like Pearl and hear their voices.
I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a string of smoked apples and some peach leather wrapped in cloth I’d picked up at my grandpa’s cabin.
Pearl brought over a plate of fried strips of something I didn’t recognize and set it between her chair and mine.
I pushed the bag toward her.
“What’s this?”
“Mama says never show up empty-handed and always welcome a new home with a sweet treat,” I said shyly, unwrapping the candy to show her.
“Thank you. I loved those peach leather sweets.” Pearl placed a fork and plate in front of me and put another setting down for herself. “I’ll get our drinks,” she said as she opened the small icebox by the stove. She pulled out two Coca-Colas and pried off the tops with a church key.
The cold cola was a rare treat. Once a year on Mama’s birthday, Papa took us all down to Knoxville in his truck to eat at Regas Brothers, a fancy city restaurant. He always ordered me a tall glass of Coca-Cola and had the waitress put two cherries atop.
Pearl put the bottle in front of me, sat down, and passed the plate of food. “Caught me a rattler near my woodpile down there and got him with my ax. Thought I’d skin it and have us a treat.”
I admired her bravery. “Mama used to have a tasty batter for the ones Papa brought home.” I took a bite, and after swallowing, I said, “It’s really good.”
“Gene, my boss over at Big Knob, showed me how to cook them.”
After we ate, I dug out the newspapers and Barbara Pym’s Excellent Women I’d picked out for her. “Here you go. And, I’ve got some good news. I’m free now. The judge said I can stay with Retta.”
Pearl looked at me closely. “That is good news. Does that mean—”
“Yes, I won’t have to worry about Mrs. Wallace finding me and throwing me into the children’s prison, as long as Retta will have me.”
“Oh!” Pearl jumped up and went to her pantry. “We’ll truly celebrate!” She pulled out a bottle of blackberry wine and poured some into two small jelly-jar glasses.
She handed me one, then raised her glass in a toast and said, “To your freedom.” Pearl raised a finger. “Let’s telephone Mother.” I took a small sip and set the glass aside. It was the first time anyone had given me drink, and I worried what would happen if someone found out.
I fidgeted with my hair and the buttons on my blouse as she dialed. Then she placed the earpiece between us. I took a breath and heard a rumbling ring followed by another, then a woman’s voice say, “Hello?”