“No, Mrs. Gillis. Noo!” Johnnie whimpered and I pulled the boy’s quaking body closer to me. “Shh, it’s okay, Johnnie.” Then more urgent. “Easy, back, easy, Junia.”
“Pull. Her. Back.” Mrs. Gillis hollered at the mule.
“Easy, ol’ girl.” Again, Junia did what I begged, and we moved slowly to the top. When our heads poked out over the wall, Mrs. Gillis came running from Junia and snatched Johnnie out of my arms. “Ma-ma-ma,” the child blubbered.
“Steady, Junia,” I said climbing out of the well. Once my feet hit the ground, I shuddered as I untied the rope under my arms and dropped it onto the ground. “Is he okay, ma’am?” Cranking the leather bucket, I tethered it tight.
“No worse for the wear, Book Woman, just bruised and scratched.” Mrs. Gillis walked up to me, toting Johnnie on her hip. “Thank you mightily,” she said tearfully. “You saved him—me. That ol’ well’s been dry a couple of years and we’ve since put in a spring pump. But it still fills some during the heavy rains and snow melts we’s always getting. Even more this year.” She rubbed his wet head, kissed his cheek, while the young’un sucked earnestly on a thumb.
I let out a sigh of relief, brushed down my wet britches, stomped the water out of my boots and inspected my shirt. There was a rip in the collar and sleeve, and it was missing three white buttons from where Johnnie had clung to me, or I had scraped them off on the way up or down. Mrs. Gillis’s kelly-green dress looked like it was missing buttons too and a few inches of eyelet trim along her waist had been torn off.
The three of us just stood there looking at each other, our eyes darting to the well with the bucket snugged up to the spool. We stayed quiet a bit, thinking about what could’ve been and what hadn’t been. Everyone around these parts knew the stories about children gone missing only to be found in family wells.
After a moment, Mrs. Gillis said, “I’m sorry about striking your mule. I got scared. Forgive me. Please call me Guyla Belle.” She leaned toward me. “Guyla Belle Gillis. I’m from North Carolina.” She reached out with a trembly hand before giving a little curtsy while she gripped Johnnie.
“Honey Lovett, Guyla Belle,” I answered, then bent my head down to Johnnie. “Your new book woman at your bidding,” I said, tossing a smile, relieved the boy was going to be fine.
“Book Woman saved you from the well. Say thank you, hon,” Guyla told him, stroking his hair and cheeks.
“Buk uman saved me well, tank ya,” he said, then pointed at me and repeated it louder.
“Book Woman, let me get you a towel and some dry socks for your troubles. Stay right here. I’ll be right back,” Guyla said, picking up the rope.
She came back out in minutes with Johnnie wrapped in a blanket and an apple for Junia. “Sure wish I could give you more.”
“Much obliged. It’s more than enough,” I said, putting the apple in my pannier. Shivering, I dried off my clothes as best I could with the ragged towel, taking off the wet boots, the cold air biting my flesh.
“Here, let me take your socks,” Guyla said, reaching for them. “I’ll wash and dry them and have them ready for you next week.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, I’d appreciate it, Guyla Belle. I’ll do the same with these.” I pulled on the dry socks and damp boots and sighed, grateful for the warmth. “Let’s get your reading material, Johnnie. I have a fine one in here.”
“I’ll feed you the apple later.” I caressed Junia and whispered a thank-you in her ear, then reached inside my pannier and pulled out Andy and The Lion. But when I tried to pass it to him, the boy’s eyes scrunched up as he glimpsed my dark-blue hands. He crinkled his reddening face and wailed and covered it, burying his head into his mama’s shoulders as if he’d seen a big, scary lizard’s hand.