“Yes, sir. I’m the new assistant outreach librarian. I’d be happy to add her to my Friday route.”
“Very nice. Now Millie likes good books, was taught to read English when she was a young girl, but just hasn’t mastered our language. Rather, she’s too stubborn to give up hers.” He smiled. “She loves a good historical and also suspenseful novels. Reads the romances, though nothing too racy.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll remember. Much obliged for you and Millie’s generous hospitality.”
“Millie is anxious to show you to your room. She has it ready for your visit, and I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”
Upstairs, I bounced on a large, fluffy bed filled with pillows and marveled at the fine furniture, the rich mahogany highboy dresser with its beveled mirror and detailed carvings and claw feet that matched the bed’s headboard. I pulled off the dusty boots and stretched my bare feet and dug my toes into the Persian rug, admiring the tight weaves in the carpet, the bold colors and delicate floral design.
A few minutes later, there was a knock, and Millie came in with towels, soap, and a gown and robe. She shyly placed it all at the foot of the bed and made a gesture, pretending to wash her face, before pointing to an alcove. When she left, I went over and was surprised to find a sparkling white claw tub, porcelain sink, and inside toilet, all grander than any I’d seen in magazines, much less ever had the chance to use. After I tested the faucets and stopper, I took a long soaking bath and scrubbed every inch of me, the day’s hardness slowly vanishing, my tight muscles becoming loose.
In bed, I put my book aside, worried about what they’d done to Mama and fretting for her safety.
Sometime during the night, Millie must’ve slipped into the room for my clothes, because in the morning I found them laundered and folded on top of the trunk at the foot of the bed.
In the morning, Millie came in with a tray of steaming porridge, baked goods, coffee, and orange juice. “？ta. ?ta, Book Woman,” she said warmly and tucked back her skirts as she left the room.
I snatched a bun off the plate, gulped down the orange juice, and raced around the room to get ready, anxious to see Mama.
Standing next to the automobile, Doc’s wife passed me a large, cold, metal milk pail with a cloth lid. I grabbed the wooden handle, lowered it to the ground, and opened it, peeling back the linen. She’d packed it with ice, smoked meats, fat rolls, fruit, and a jar of chowchow and a few other foods I couldn’t make out. “Much obliged, ma’am, for your hospitality, everything.”
Doc set it on the floorboard in front of the bench seat. “See you late this afternoon, not sure what time I’ll be home,” he said as he set a small basket with two plates and utensils inside the trunk. He plucked his medical bag off the ground, climbed inside the automobile, and tossed the bag into the back seat.
Millie leaned inside the window and kissed his cheek. “Hej d?,” she rang out and waved to me. “Hej d?.”
I tried to say her words, and she laughed cheerfully when I failed and mispronounced them as Hey dog.
“Ready?” Doc asked.
I nodded solemnly, a little scared and burdened by what I might find there, wondering if anyone could ever be ready to go to a prison.
Twenty-Five
We passed through the streets of Troublesome, the town buttoned closed for the Lord’s Day. The first breaths of dawn arrived in softened hues of ruby and yellow, sifting through the branches of budding locusts and chestnut oaks and the boughs of soldering pines.
At the outskirts of town on Highway 721, little Wrenna and her rooster walked through tall weeds along the thick-treed banks. As we drew nearer, she stepped out onto the road in a long, breezy sack dress, the yellow ruffled hem ragged and trailing. Doc shook his head and said, “Poor child’s always roaming, going nowhere but everywhere.”