“Gone.” I worried the word. But it was a relief to hear he was working, and I offered her a wobbly smile. Reaching inside my satchel, I said, “Only wanted to drop off Guyla Belle’s clean socks—”
“Done took off and left town. Good riddance.” She jerked the boy inside and slammed the door.
Good riddance?
Quickly, I dropped the socks back into my bag. From behind the door, I heard the boy wail once before going silent. Then Johnnie’s sad face appeared in front of the curtain. Tearful, he pressed his small hand against the old pane.
Junia whinnied softly and sidestepped, turning us around. I looked over my shoulder one last time, then squeezed my legs against her sides. “Halt, ol’ girl.” Glints of sunlight dropped through the trees, dancing off shards of glass that littered the concreted mouth of the well. I squinted and saw the jagged broken neck of a dairy bottle lying on the ground below it. Under it was the two books I’d loaned her. I climbed down and walked over, sneaking glimpses to the house. My hands trembled as I ran my fingers across the new concrete lid, remembering how Guyla Belle almost lost Johnnie. As ornery as Mr. Gillis was, at least he saw fit to cover it up.
Junia remembered, too, and tapped her hooves nervously, trying to pull me away, struggling to free herself from the reins. “It’s okay, ol’ girl, Johnnie’s safe and won’t ever fall down it again.”
Dismayed, I picked up the children’s book, and spotted The Awakening nearby. The pages were ripped and the cover had been violently torn off. I shivered and circled around the well. Two daffodils had sprung up beside it, and a dandelion had pushed itself up through a crack at the concrete base. I studied the strong weed. How it always survived, even against the forces of man and steel. I resisted plucking it up, knowing it would seed year after year, and I bent over, ran a finger over the yellow head, praying that Guyla Belle had the same strength to survive his beatings.
Junia sounded another anxious bray, and I searched the yard once more. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement and jerked my head up toward the cabin. My eyes narrowed as I squinted to make out who was there.
The curtains parted a little further, and an outline of someone appeared, then faded behind the fabric just as quick. Could Guyla Belle be in there suffering from another beating, or had she really packed up and left?
***
I found Bonnie Powell on her porch, sprawled out on Retta’s pretty glider, smoking a cigarette, one leg hitched atop it, the other rocking back and forth. She motioned me up.
I grabbed two books and a pamphlet and climbed the steps.
She handed me her old loans. “Hey, sweet pea, will ya look at this. Just came home and found it sitting out in the yard, plain as that. All new-like too. No note, nothing with it.” She rubbed her hand alongside the metal arm, traced the pattern on the empty spot next to her. “Nary a dent anywhere,” she marveled. “Grandma was out back hanging wash and said she never heard a soul. We carried it up to the porch and it fits perfect.” She pitched her cigarette out into the thinning yard, dusted off the ashes that had fallen on her bib overalls.
I was grateful that Alonzo got it here and didn’t cheat this time. “It’s real pretty,” I said, not wanting her to know I’d given it to her, afraid she’d think it was charity.
“Had me another rough day in the mine, shoveling the belt and eating that nasty rock dust. I threw up twice, ’cause I ran out of them vitamin C pills Doc prescribes. Says it helps fight against the sickness the dust causes.” Bonnie stretched and massaged her neck, then examined her broken overall strap that was missing its metal button. “Damn men making it even rougher with their grabby hands.” She looked out to the yard as if remembering something ugly. “But this sure cheered me up. Can’t wait to hold Joey Jr. in it.” She rocked the glider with her toe, the squeaky hum breezing the afternoon air.
“He’ll go right to bed,” I said, smiling, remembering all the times Retta had rocked me to sleep on it.