I unpacked my bags and fed a loud Pennie. Looking through my clothes, I grabbed a clean dress and undergarments, then lingered at the bookcase packed with reads that we’d brought over from the Cumberland cabin for our visits in Troublesome.
After a few minutes of studying them, I hurried up the loft to pore over the stacks of books up there, studying an old dictionary Mama had received from her friend Queenie Johnson. Queenie had worked with Mama a while but left for Philadelphia in 1936 and ended up getting her librarianship. When I turned eight, Mama passed the dictionary to me.
Carefully, I opened the thick book and licked my fingertip, skimming the worn, yellowed, slick pages to the E’s until my eyes rested on the word. Emancipation, n, act of or state of being, etc.; liberation, release, freedom. I wondered about Byrne McDaniel and how he’d won his freedom.
I closed the dictionary and pressed it to my chest. Somehow, I had to convince Mr. Morgan to get mine.
Setting the thick book aside, I looked over other stacks and plucked up two novels, then climbed down the ladder and stuffed them inside my pannier with my other book returns from Friday’s route and the newspaper.
Guyla Belle was still sitting alone on the stoop when I rode into the yard, and I saw she’d placed a dairy bottle on the lip of the well. She jumped up when she spotted me and limped over, her vacant eyes filling with light.
“Book Woman, I thought I’d never see ya again.”
“Good evening, Guyla Belle. I wanted to leave you a book, and see how you and Johnnie are doing.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Honey. Thanks for dropping by.” I heard the loneliness escape her ragged breaths. “I’m mending okay. The boy’s still running a low fever, but he ate heartily and played some on the porch before I put him down for the evening. He’s strong and will likely pert up tomorrow and have me chasing him around the yard.” Guyla Belle’s face was gaunt. She laughed but it rang false.
I slid off Junia and rummaged through my bag, sneaking glances at the beaten woman, knowing it would be a long time before she would be chasing anything. I wondered what Gillis and his kin were up to and prayed Guyla Belle would be safe, wishing she had a safe place to go.
After a minute of digging around, I pulled out The Awakening for her. Chopin’s novel was one of Mama’s favorites, despite some folk thinking it was immoral and led females down the wrong path, against what men thought best. But I thought being so far from home, Guyla Belle would enjoy reading about Edna Pontellier, the strong Kentucky woman who was living in Louisiana. Maybe the book would help her through her suffering.
“I think you’ll like this one, Guyla Belle.” I looked around the yard and over my shoulder, hesitating.
She snatched it greedily from my hands. Studying the cover, Guyla Belle flipped it over to read the back, then thumbed through the pages, her eyes hungry for the printed word.
“Guyla Belle, I was in such a hurry, I forgot to bring back the socks you lent me. If your dairy bottle’s on the well, I’ll get them to you Friday.”
“Thank you, Book Woman.” She pulled her eyes away from the book. “This one sounds real good. And I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”
From inside I heard Johnnie call out for her.
Junia whinnied, a warning in its faint rise.
Uneasy, I looked around again, then back at the loan in Guyla Belle’s hands, fretting. Finally, I prodded Junia with my knees. “See you next Friday, Guyla Belle.”
***
Doc greeted me at his door, offering to take my satchel.
“Obliged, Doc, but it’s not heavy. I only packed my clean dress and a book to read tonight.”
“Oh, books.” He raised a crooked finger. “Millie said she heard about the revival of the Pack Horse project and that you were hired. She wanted me to ask if you’d put her on your route. She’s been hankering for some good books to read lately.”