Chapter 10- Poppies

— Chapter 10 — Alan went to work as usual the next morning, but he couldn’t shake feeling restless and nervous. Something deep in his bones told him to pick up everything and everyone and run. When he voiced his thoughts out loud to Jonah, he was surprised at his reaction. “Alan, we could be jumping to conclusions. We got ourselves a nice little life here and I am tired of running.” Alan, feeling defeated, nodded. He too was tired of running. He stood beside his friend, wanting him to take the burden he suddenly felt off of his shoulders. “Be careful today,” Alan said as he held Shawna in his arms. She was beginning to be too big to carry. Her long legs dangled over Alan’s hips as she clutched her slender arms around his neck. “We will,” Jonah replied. Jobeth came up from behind him. “Good. Give Shawna a kiss and we’ll be off.” Alan smiled. Shawna stretched her arms out to Jobeth and she hugged and kissed the six year old. Once Alan and Shawna left, she went to the water basin sitting beside the dinner table and began to wash up. Edna needed to be milked and she wanted to make Jonah’s favorite dish for supper: roast pork with potatoes and carrots in with thick gravy. Later, Jobeth sat humming on a stool, tugging Edna’s teats. Milk squirted into the pail making a pleasant hissing sound. Jonah was behind the house down by the creek slaughtering one of the largest pigs for supper. It would supply the meat for many meals to come. Suddenly a thundering roar pierced the air, causing the world around Jobeth to vibrate. Edna stumbled backwards and mooed kicking the pail of milk over. Jobeth jumped up, her heart leaping into her throat. Her hands raced to her neck as dread filled her. Something terrible had happened. She ran outside to see where the noise came from, looking out toward the creek. There was a man who looked like the fellow Simpson, with a shotgun, running away. Jobeth’s eyes darted one way and then another as she started to run in slow motion. “Where is Jonah?” Jobeth asked through clenched teeth. She turned to the side of the house and noticed two lumps slumped on the ground. They were not moving. Jobeth gasped and sped up her pace. “Jonah!” she screamed as she drew closer to the figure hunched beside the butchered pig. “Oh no...” She moaned as she fell beside his crumpled form. A dark pool of blood encased him. The source of the blood was a deep wound in his stomach. “Noooo...” Jobeth cried, tears falling uncontrollably. Panic overwhelmed her as she gently touched Jonah’s sweaty brow. “Jobeth,” he whispered, spitting blood through stained red teeth. “Oh no, Jonah,” she whimpered, picking his head up and cradling it in her lap. “I am dying,” he winced--his eyes were bloodshot and yellow. “No,” Jobeth whined, “I won’t let you.” She hugged his limp head close to her heaving chest. “Jobeth . . . you have to listen.” Jonah wheezed again. His head felt fuzzy and he had a hard time thinking straight. “Jonah!” Jobeth wailed, her heart breaking. “You are my brother and I won’t let another brother die! The people I love can’t always die! How much do I have to lose for the sins I have committed?” Jonah sputtered, spitting up fresh blood. “Listen to me . . . remember what I said about life not always giving you what you want.” Jobeth wiped a tear from her eye with her fingers. A crumpling frown crossed her face. “Shut up!” she yelled. “Life is not fair. How could this be happening?” Her tears fell on Jonah’s paling face. “I have to say what is on my mind before I meet my maker,” Jonah’s eyes became wide, the black orbs drilling into Jobeth. “I don’t want you to mope around after I’m gone. I will be with God and baby Jonah. I am not sad to go to them.” Weakly he reached above his head and grabbed Jobeth’s hand, squeezing with all his strength. “And I will always be with you.” Blood bubbled from the wound in his belly. “You gotta be strong for Alan and Shawna . . . They need you.” Jobeth was bawling, but she continued to listen. She was covered in Jonah’s blood as she clung to him, hoping her love for him would keep him with her. “Alan,” he spat, his voice becoming weak. “He loves you so much. He wants to do good by you and Shawna.” He closed his eyes, his chest not moving. “Jonah!” Jobeth screamed in terror. His eyes fluttered open and looked around aimlessly, unable to focus. “Don’t cry, Jobeth,” Jonah smiled a bloody smile. His eyes seemed fixed, gazing at the sky. “I’ll be watching over little Jonah, telling him his ma loved him.” “Don’t say that, I need you here with me,” Jobeth cried, rubbing her bloody hand across her already blood-smeared face. She hugged Jonah’s heavy head harder to herself. “I love you. You are the best friend I have ever had. You make me want to go on when I don’t want to. Who will help me run the house or help Shawna and Alan? We need you here.” “I love you, too, but it is time for you to go on alone without me. You don’t need my hand to hold anymore.” He smiled peacefully. “Tell Alan I love him and our girl Shawna.” Jonah squeaked in a high voice. “I will Jonah,” Jobeth sobbed. He grabbed Jobeth’s arms, embracing her body, weakly. “I can’t see! I can’t see…” “Oh, Jonah!” Jobeth cried, hugging his limp body. “Please don’t die. Please . . . please don’t die.” “The living needs you, not the dead. Don’t make me cry when I am gone cause you dying down here,” Jonah barely whispered. “You promise me,” he strained. She lifted his face and gently cupped it in her blood stained hands. Tenderly, she placed an upside down kiss on Jonah’s bloody wet lips, her forehead resting on his chin. “I promise,” she said closing her eyes. She felt Jonah give one final sigh on her cheek, warm and moist, and threw back her head and howled mournfully. She wailed out her pain to the clear blue sky as she held tight to the lifeless body of her friend. That night, Alan walked into the small house feeling dread. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. “Go to your room and play,” he said to Shawna. She looked at him with puzzled blue eyes. “Git.” He said softly but lovingly. He shooed her off with his hands and she skipped off to play with her dolls, grabbing an apple out of the basket on the table. Alan looked around the empty room. It was neat and tidy—it looked like what he usually returned home to, but there was no smell of dinner perfuming the air. Jobeth was nowhere to be seen, when she normally would be bustling around setting the table with Jonah chatting around her. Something was terribly wrong. Alan felt it the moment he’d walked into work that morning. Simpson was not there until later in the day, which was unusual. He acted strange and distant to Alan once he returned. Fear enveloped him. Something was just not right. He immediately ran out the door. Shawna, sitting on her and Jobeth’s bed, listened to the door slam shut. She clutched her doll close to her small chest watching the entrance to her room. Something was very wrong. It did not take Alan long to spot Jobeth slumped over Jonah’s dead body. He ran up to her, panting. Grief spread over his face instantly and a moan escaped his throat. Jobeth lifted her blood-streaked face to Alan’s tortured one. “He’s gone.” She said hoarsely reaching her hand out to him. Alan’s knees gave out from under him and he fell beside Jonah and Jobeth, a sob caught in his throat. He placed a hand over the open, glazed eyes of Jonah and closed them, searching Jobeth’s grief-stricken face for questions he already knew the answers to. “It’s my fault,” he choked, his words barely audible. Tears formed in his beautiful eyes. Jobeth gently took his hand away from Jonah’s eyes, and held it tightly. “No,” she said through a stuffy nose. “Not your fault,” she repeated, shaking her head. She took a deep breath and rubbed tears out of her eyes. Alan looked at Jobeth with quivering lips. He began to cry. Jobeth embraced him and stroked his soft brown hair, lovingly. Jonah had been right again. Alan and Shawna would need her even more now. “I should have moved us last year when I thought there might be danger,” Alan cried, holding on to Jobeth for life. “No, Alan,” Jobeth soothed softly. “It was winter and we were freezing. You did what you had to do. For us. And we were so happy, if just for a little while.” “But,” Alan said, red-eyed, “I knew I should have stayed home today.” “No, Alan,” Jobeth whispered, her fingers running through his hair. She could not help noticing Jonah’s dried blood coated her fingers. “No one knew this would happen. The fault for Jonah lying here is that Simpson and his prejudice! His fear of Jonah, not yours, and Jonah knew that.” “How could he?” Alan begged, wanting the guilt that plagued him to leave. “He told me, and he told me he loved you.” Jobeth smiled, giving birth to fresh tears. “He loved us all and he wasn’t afraid to die anymore. He said there are many waiting for him in heaven so he won’t be alone.” Jobeth sighed and looked down at Jonah. It did not even look like the boy she had loved and lived with. It was just an empty shell. Jonah was already gone. She cupped her hand to her mouth trying to control the urge to burst out crying. Alan needed her to be strong for him. Later she could mourn for her beloved friend, in private. “He told me we were not to cry for him. We had to be strong for each other. That we still had each other and Shawna.” Alan placed his head in Jobeth’s lap and cried. She put her arms protectively around him and rested her head on his back as Alan shook with grief. “We have to be strong for each other,” she cried, Jonah’s words ringing in her ears. “Jonah was a very wise man. One of the wisest men I have ever had the pleasure to know . . . I promised him we would be strong Alan . . . I promised.” She held him and cried with him until night fell across the land and the cold became unbearable. “Shawna will start to look for us.” Alan sniffed, releasing his grip on Jobeth. She nodded, trying to fix her hair. “I will have to clean up before she sees me.” Jobeth stood up on sore, cramped legs. She had been crouched in the same position since finding Jonah that morning. “What do I tell her?” Alan choked back a sob about to release again. “The truth . . . the truth,” Jobeth said turning to the creek. She walked away slowly, like a mythical creature of the forest, leaving Alan standing and staring after her. “I am so in love with her Jonah,” Alan whispered to the air. Jobeth’s form faded out of sight. An unseasonably warm breeze blew over him, blowing into his ear. He could have sworn he heard, “I know,” in its warmth. He looked down at the empty body of Jonah. “I will miss you,” Alan said numbly. “More than you know.” Leaves rustled in the trees behind Alan. He turned back, confused. There were no leaves on the trees. They had fallen off days before. They buried Jonah the next day beside Jobeth’s son. Alan was confused by Jobeth’s insistence as to where Jonah was to rest. “I want him there. It is very beautiful and peaceful in the summer. Jonah once told me it was like God was right there,” Jobeth said, trying to avoid Alan’s questioning eyes. “All right then. That is where he would probably want to be buried.” When the three mourners reached the sight of the burial, Alan looked at the cross already placed in the ground. “It looks like someone else thought this was a good place,” he said to Jobeth. She looked away from him, guilt flooding her soul. She wanted to tell Alan that it was her son that lay beneath the tiny grave marker. She wanted to reveal to him how Jonah had asked to be buried here, beside his namesake, but she was afraid--afraid she would lose Alan if he knew the truth. It was a chance she was not going to take. Alan began digging as Jobeth and Shawna stood back, teary-eyed and watched. They cried openly without reservation as Alan began to scoop dirt over the wooden coffin. No more deep laughter echoing through the day. No more talks. No more Jonah. He was gone forever. Jobeth stood staring at the two crosses erect in the cool air. Alan was on one side of her and Shawna on the other. “Good-bye, dear friend. I will miss you forever. Take care of mine in heaven. My life will always have a hole without you in it. We have been blessed to have you in our lives, if just for a short time. Sleep well and one day we will all be together again,” Jobeth said, looking at both crosses. “I will never forget you,” she said to both crucifixes. Alan placed a warm arm around her shoulder and she smiled at him as she clutched Shawna’s hand. “We’ll be all right,” Jobeth coaxed Alan. “If anything should happen to you two . . .” Alan breathed, bending his face into Jobeth’s loose hair. “Shhh,” Jobeth placed her index finger to Alan’s moist lips. “Nothing is going to happen to us.” She hugged the two sobbing people, holding them dearly to her. “Please,” she prayed in her mind, “please don’t take them from me too. That would be too cruel to bear.” Alan went into town later in the day to sell the livestock, while Jobeth and Shawna packed their belongings. “Don’t open the door for anyone,” he said to Jobeth before he left. “I won’t,” Jobeth said, cupping Alan’s face in her hands. They felt warm and smooth. He smiled warmly into her kind face, hating to leave, but having no choice. Winter was nearly upon them and he wanted to purchase a horse and covered wagon to protect them from the elements. He did not want to travel on foot again. It had nearly killed them the last time. They had come too far to regress back to the beginning. They were not the same people they had been a year ago. “Jobeth?” Shawna asked, handing the older girl some of her dresses. They were in their bedroom sorting through their belongings. It was the last room to pack. “Yes,” Jobeth said absently folding cloths. “At school . . .” Shawna stopped, afraid of the answer she would receive. “What is it Shawna?” Jobeth looked up from her folding. Shawna’s blonde head was lowered and her two braids hung down on each side of her small shoulders. “Well, the children said I would be taken away,” Shawna’s eyes looked beseechingly at Jobeth. Sympathy filled Jobeth and she reached out, grasping Shawna’s light form, bringing the child into her comforting embrace. “No one will ever take you away from me, Shawna. No one,” she said earnestly. Queenie jumped up from her resting place on the floor and began to growl. A shiver ran up Jobeth’s spine. Both she and Shawna turned to the door. “Stay here,” she ordered, standing up. Queenie stood protectively beside Jobeth, teeth bared. “Jobeth,” Shawna squealed. Jobeth put her palm up to silence the frightened child and crept to the locked front door leading outside. “Come on out, you whore!” came a female voice from behind the entrance. “We don’t want trash like you around our children!” yelled another female voice. A chorus of approval rang out. Jobeth peeked out the window and saw about twenty women with small children held tight to their sides. One plump, middleaged woman with a toddler in her arms lifted a rock from the ground and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered, causing Jobeth to jump, screaming as her hands covered her ears. Shawna came running out of the room, terrified. “Jobeth!” she squealed, frightened. “The loft! Go to the loft and hide under the bed!” Jobeth said, running to Shawna. Queenie started to bark as rocks began to pelt against the little house, crashing through windows and denting the sides. Shawna scurried up the stairs and looked down at Jobeth with wide, frightened eyes. “Send out the child, whore,” came an angry voice from outside. Jobeth grabbed the snarling Queenie and wrapped her arm protectively around the furry neck. The dog licked Jobeth’s face, whining and growling, baring her teeth menacingly at the door. “It’s all right girl,” Jobeth soothed. “Come on Alan, hurry back.” She glued her eyes to the door and did not move, knowing Shawna would be scared up in the loft alone. Jobeth wrung her hands together, feeling guilty. She was not there to comfort the poor child. “Go upstairs, Queenie. Go see Shawna.” Jobeth spoke into the animal’s ear. The dog whined turning to go up the stairs. She looked back at Jobeth, ears alert. “Go see Shawna,” Jobeth hissed, grabbing a chair to place under the door handle. Queenie obeyed and went to the waiting arms of the little girl. Shawna was relieved to have the dog’s warm furry body with her. “If you think you can whore around our town, you got another think coming!” yelled another voice. Jobeth grabbed a log from the woodpile and stood in a defensive pose, ready. She would do what she had to, to protect herself and Shawna. No one was taking Shawna from her, and no one was going to hurt either one of them again. “Alan, please hurry back,” Jobeth whispered, afraid more than she had ever been in her life. “Hurry…” That afternoon, Alan rode up the familiar path to the house he had shared with Jobeth, Jonah and Shawna for more than a year. He was seated on the front bench of a covered wagon. A brown mare and a spotted brown and white filly pulled the cart easily up the path. He reached the house and noticed the battered appearance. Glass was shattered everywhere and rocks littered the once immaculate entrance. Jobeth and Jonah had cleared out the weeds and branches that littered the path, taking care to give it a simple, yet appealing exterior. Now it was unrecognizable. Panic seized him. “Whoa!” He reined in the horses, which gave a startled snort. Alan dropped the reins and jumped off the wagon, running to the sealed door. It was jammed and he pushed full force with his shoulder trying to get in. “Jobeth, Shawna!” he yelled frantically, pushing the door slightly ajar. “Alan?” he heard from the other side. Relief filled his soul. He could hear Jobeth moving objects away from the door. “Oh, Alan!” she cried, opening the door to his bewildered face. She had never felt so glad to see him as she flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, afraid that his husky presence might not be real. “Where is Shawna?” he peered over Jobeth’s shoulder. Rocks and glass littered the once tidy room. “I’m here!” Shawna chimed over the railing of the loft. “Thank God,” he panted, squeezing Jobeth back. “Oh, Alan, we were so frightened. They called me horrible names and they threw stones. They came to take Shawna.” “Don’t cry. They’re gone now,” Alan soothed, patting the back of Jobeth’s long loose hair. Jobeth pulled away from Alan’s strong embrace. “Did you get the wagon?” Jobeth asked. He nodded. Tears filled her eyes. The reality of leaving their beloved little home flooded her. Jonah was here. Her baby was here. “Why?” she wailed angrily. “Why did they have to kill Jonah? Why did they steal him away from us? Why did they have to ruin our home? Why?” She sobbed, unable to stop. “I loved him so much. I loved our home.” Jobeth fell to the floor crying into the palms of her hands. She was leaving so much behind. “Jobeth,” Alan pleaded. “Please, Jobeth . . .” He bent down and placed his large, strong hands around her tear-streaked face. Jobeth looked at him, sniffling. “We have to leave. I don’t want to leave Jonah either, but we have too.” He looked at the debris thrown aggressively across the floor and Jobeth could see his eyes water. “What they did to Jonah . . .” “Alan,” Jobeth felt ashamed by her outburst. “No,” Alan jumped up, glaring at Jobeth. She shivered. Alan had never before acted this way. “Jobeth don’t. You understand what they could do to us, to Shawna?” Shawna gasped, clinging onto Queenie’s neck. Jobeth stood up. Jonah’s last words, to be strong, rang in her ears. She patted her messy hair down, looking up to the loft with a forced smile. “Come on down, honey, and help me pack,” Jobeth said to the silent child whose eyes were big with worry. Goosebumps crawled over Jobeth’s skin. For a moment, the child looking down was that same haunted child Jobeth had escaped with so long ago. Slowly, Shawna crawled down the stairs and grabbed Jobeth’s hand tightly. Reassuringly, Jobeth squeezed it back. “Did you have trouble selling the animals?” Jobeth asked Alan. “No, we had good animals. They just want us out of their town. I sold them quickly.” He smiled shyly at Jobeth, wanting to kiss her. “Wait till you see the horses. They are beautiful.” “Well then,” Jobeth forced a grin, “let’s see them.” They ate in silence and then packed their belongings in the wagon. Jobeth made up a bed in the back, putting the fatigued Shawna down to sleep. It was getting late and they wanted to be on their way. They stopped at the grave one last time to say good-bye. Standing beside Alan, she stared at the stark crosses: the only reminders that the two buried beneath had existed in this world. She wished they were coming with them. She bent down and fingered the dried red flowers on her son’s grave. Her heart ached at leaving them behind, but Jonah had been right, as always. Alan and Shawna needed her and they were alive. She felt she would never get over losing Jonah or her son, but she would live and love. She had to; She had promised Jonah and it was the only way she could survive. “Are you ready?” Alan questioned, watching her caress the dried seed heads. Jobeth was almost sixteen and had already lived a life far beyond her years. She had lost her parents, her child and her best friend all in a little more than two years. The pain was there. It probably always would be. She looked at the man beside her and her sad heart lightened. She snapped one of the flowers into her hand. She would take a part of them with her. Somewhere, someday she would plant those seeds. She placed a mittened hand on his arm and smiled peacefully at him. “Now I am ready,” she said. Seated back in the wagon, Alan clicked his tongue and slapped the reins down onto the horses’ backs. The wagon began to move forward. Alan was worth going on for. He was only seventeen years old and worked harder than any man she knew. She turned and faced the road. The sky had turned gray and cool. She snuggled into her wrap and sighed, clutching the dried flower in her hand. They would make it. They had to make it.

Chapter 9- Poppies

— Chapter 9 — Alan noticed the change in Jobeth immediately. She had been in bed when they returned home that evening. He assumed she was still not feeling well, but by the end of the following day, she still had not emerged from the room she shared with Shawna. He became concerned. “I better get a doctor up here,” Alan said at the dinner table. Jobeth had refused supper again for the third night in a row. The remaining three sat silently eating the meal Jonah had prepared. He placed his hands on the table, bracing himself to get up. His intent was on going to town to fetch the doctor. It didn’t matter if they had to leave when Jobeth and Jonah were discovered. She was sick and he could not let her go without medical attention. “Alan,” Jonah said softly, looking up from his plate of vegetable stew, “no doctor can help Jobeth. She gotta sickness of the heart that only she can heal.” “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Alan stormed angrily, his face displaying a look of disgust. “Alan, don’t be asking me something I can’t tell yah,” Jonah said to the redfaced youth. “There’s gonna come a time when you gonna have to listen with your heart and not your ears.” This just made Alan angrier. He could not understand what Jonah was talking about. “And I know yah getting hot under the collar, but that is too bad. If you want to help Jobeth, you sit down and finish your supper. She will be up and at it tomorrow. We is gonna let her be for tonight,” Jonah said with finality. He lifted his spoon and shoved it into his mouth forcefully. He chewed his food without actually tasting it. Alan was too stunned for words. He sat down in his chair and stared resentfully at his half-eaten stew. “Now tell Jonah about your day at school. You learning to read?” Jonah said changing the subject. He listened intently while eating his dinner as Shawna chatted about daily activities and a girl at school who was mean to all the other children. Jonah listened intently as Alan, defeated, began to eat again. His eyes stayed transfixed on the bedroom door where Jobeth slumbered deep in mourning. The next day, after Alan and Shawna had left, Jonah walked hesitantly to the door of Jobeth’s retreat. Shawna had been sleeping in the loft with him and Alan since Jobeth began hibernating. He paused, dreading what he had to do. Knowing he could not put it off any longer, he walked into the dark, dank room. It smelled stale and slightly sour. Swiftly, he crossed the area between himself and the window and pushed open the curtains. Sunlight bathed the room, exposing the pale, dark-eyed form collapsed on the bed. Jobeth turned and buried her head into the pillow, protesting. Jonah placed his strong young hands on his hips and glared on her frail body as she withered under his angry eyes. “You can lay there and slowly die if you want, but you are needed around here. You got a bad loss that come to you, but life has many bellyaches to hand out to us all,” Jonah growled, hating himself. “We need you and we are the living. Little Jonah is gone. I am ashamed that he is looking down from heaven with the angels and seeing that his ma’s a quitter. She done let herself get so consumed with misery that she neglecting the living that loves and needs her.” He shook his head sadly. “There will be tears in heaven right now, ‘cause you done forgot about us and how we needs yah.” He turned to leave trying not to see Jobeth’s red-rimmed eyes. “There is lots of work to be done around here and I can’t do it alone. I need my best friend to help me.” And he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Lifting her head from her pillow, Jobeth gazed toward the window, her eyes squinting from the bright light. Tears she thought were all dried up fell anew. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and slowly sat up, every inch of her body feeling bone weary. She swiveled her head to the door of the bedroom and mustered all of her strength. “The least you can do is draw me a bath,” she roared with all her might. Jonah leaned behind the door and held his breath as his hands tightly clasped the door handle. He smiled, released his firm hold on the handle and went to get the washtub. “I suppose I could do that by myself,” he responded. Alan was surprised when Jobeth finally surfaced, weak as a kitten, but seemingly better after her ordeal. Jonah had been right; it was just a matter of time before she came around. He still did not understand what had happened to cause her to hide from view for nearly a week, but he trusted Jonah and obeyed his wishes. Jobeth had lost a lot of weight and the dark circles under her eyes worried him. She seemed very sad but at least she was not sick. As time passed, the circles that ringed her eyes began to fade just as the snow began to melt and spring started to bloom. Jobeth ached for her dead son, but her heart started to heal slowly with the love of the two boys and Shawna. She seldom spoke to Jonah about the baby, but felt a great bond with the young man who was decades older than his sixteen years. Then again, she too was much wiser than her own age of fifteen. The two frequently went to visit the tiny grave. They would sit silently, absorbed in the tranquil atmosphere. When the snow finally melted, just as Jobeth had envisioned, the grass grew tall, alive with small animals and birds. Tiny budded heads pressed out of the earth and soon the field was speckled with multicolored wildflowers. “It is nice here,” Jobeth said, smelling a small, red flower she had carefully uprooted. She planned to replant it onto the child’s grave. Jonah turned from placing the small cross he had constructed on the ground. He wiped his sweaty brow and breathed deeply of the spring smells bursting forth around him. “Good place,” he sighed looking around him. “Feels like God is right here.” Jobeth agreed. “Jonah?” “Yes?” He continued with the work at hand. He would have to dig a hole deep enough to support the wooden crucifix. Jobeth stared at his naked dark back rippling and glistening with sweat. He had removed his shirt when the heat became unbearable. She could not help admiring his beauty. Jonah was a very handsome man. “Thank you.” “For what?” Jonah asked, facing her again, shovel in hand. “For everything,” she pretended exasperation. She stood up and walked to him. “I love you, all right.” And she kissed him squarely on the lips. “Ah, heck,” Jonah said embarrassed, turning his back to her. “I love you, too.” He blushed under his dark skin. Jobeth fell backwards, giggling, until her stomach ached from laughing so hard. “What is so funny?” he said, pretending to be offended. “You,” she giggled, sat up and rubbed tears out of her eyes. She had not laughed so hard in ages. In fact, she could not remember ever laughing so hard. “What would I ever do without you, Jonah?” “You would be just fine,” Jonah smiled, trying to hide his own urge to laugh. It felt good to see Jobeth smile with color in her face. “Aren’t we an unlikely pair?” “You know it,” Jonah laughed out loud in his deep, rich voice. Hearing Jonah laugh started Jobeth up again and they both continued to snicker together. A week later the two were cooking supper when Alan ran into the house after finishing his work at the mill. The house was fully furnished, thanks to Jonah’s carpentry work, and looked like a very comfortable, modest home. Jonah and Jobeth had worked hard to create the type of home they wished to live in and they had succeeded. “Jobeth! Jonah!” Alan yelled from the doorway, “Come see what I brought home.” He was very excited and Jobeth could not help the smile that broke over her face. Her heart fluttered when she thought of him. Jonah noticed how Jobeth flushed over Alan and smiled. He saw the same look on Alan’s face every time he was near Jobeth. She wiped her hands on her apron and removed the cooking chicken from the fireplace. “Come on, Jobeth, move,” Jonah squealed, grabbing her hand and dragging her outside. Both stopped in their tracks as they reached the front veranda. Jobeth’s mouth dropped open and she covered it with her hands. There on the lawn was a cow. It was a small cow, spotted black and white and it stood lazily, chewing grass. Shawna stood beside it holding the leathery lead rope. “Wow!” Jonah yelped, jumping down from the porch. “A cow!” He went up to the beast and began to pet it. “Milk and butter and cream and . . .” Jobeth started to laugh, jumping down from her domain. “Alan, how wonderful!” Alan stood back proudly. This had been a dream of his. “We cannot have a home without a cow. Shawna, show her.” Jobeth faced the blonde child with anticipation as the waif laughed, pulling out small packages from behind her back. “Seeds!” Shawna squealed. Jobeth grabbed the small packages from her tiny hands and recited the writing on them. “Radishes, potatoes, carrots.” She squeezed the envelopes to her chest. “Vegetables! Vegetables! Finally, some vegetables!” “Are you happy?” Alan asked, suddenly standing beside her. A strong desire moved through him to sweep her lithe body up into his and touch her lips longingly with his own. His heart pounded and the scent of her freshly washed hair made him dizzy for her. “Very,” Jobeth whispered, very much aware of his strong male presence. She gazed into his eyes, her breath failing her. “Thank you.” She placed her hand on his warm cheek and without thinking leaned over and kissed him softly on his smooth lips Alan’s hand instantly encircled her wrist by his face and he breathed in her breath. It was sweet and fresh. Jobeth’s eyes were closed and a surge of heat tingled up from her toes to her head. She opened her eyes and stared into his piercing gaze. Embarrassed, she pulled away and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Alan was confused, feeling he had offended her. One moment he had felt joy as he had never felt before and the next he felt as though he had committed some heinous crime. He looked directly into Jobeth’s eyes and breathed deeply of her essence. Not knowing what else to do, he squeezed her hand and went to Shawna and Jonah, who were too involved with the cow to have noticed them. “What we gonna name her?” Alan yelled running down to where Shawna and Jonah stood patting the cow. Jobeth stood still, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, staring after Alan and wondering what she had done. “How about Edna?” Jonah roared, picking Shawna up and placing her on the cow’s back. “Edna?” Shawna and Alan questioned in chorus. “Yes.” Jonah puffed up his chest, faking hurt feelings. “I had an aunt named Edna once. Yup, Aunt Edna. If I remember right, she looked just like this here old cow.” Shawna and Alan began to laugh hastily at Jonah. Jobeth could not stop a giggle from escaping her lips as she gazed upon Alan’s strong young back. She felt confused. She had enjoyed kissing him and would have liked to kiss him more. How was that possible? When Father James had kissed her, she hated it. She cringed with disgust at his very touch. But Alan had been different-he was gentle and his lips were soft and caring. After Edna and the new seeds came into their lives, Jonah and Jobeth had more to occupy their busy days. Jobeth did not miss going into town. Jonah was more than enough company for her during the day, and in the evenings she had all three of them to absorb her time. She felt very loved and needed once again. Life seemed livable. Jonah and Jobeth quickly set themselves to work fixing a barn for Edna and starting a garden. Fortunately, her mother had taught Jobeth at an early age how to make dairy products. So Edna became a great luxury in their lives. “Jobeth, a girl has to know how to make edible foods with what she has,” her mama would say, looking down at the little girl. She no longer cried when she thought about her parents and the life they once shared together. She was only thankful that they had taught her well. The knowledge her parents had bestowed upon her before they died had proven to be very useful. Jobeth thought of them now with loving memories. They had served her well. Every time Jobeth milked Edna or was making butter or cheese, she would remember her mother and her calm voice telling her how to do this or that. It was just like when she had been on the run with Shawna. She remembered her Pappy’s strong voice telling her how to build a fire or make a snare. They left Jobeth prepared to survive alone and for that, Jobeth was forever grateful. Her parents were still protecting her and watching out for her. Alan kept surprising them with gifts. A month after Edna’s arrival, Alan came home with two live hens, a rooster, some flour and two pigs. But the best surprise of all was Queenie, a little puppy Alan and Shawna found half-starved and abandoned by a creek. They brought her home and nursed the light brown mutt back to health. Everything was going well. The four had everything they could hope for. They had a real home full of love and kindness, something most of them had never experienced before. And they had livestock to sustain them. They even had a watchdog. Fall rolled around quickly, changing the green leaves of summer to bright red and yellow. The warm air began once again to turn cool and crisp. A year had passed since the four left the other members of their little family. Early one morning Jobeth and Jonah started pulling out the remaining vegetables from their garden. They had harvested enough for winter and were storing the food in a cellar Jonah had built behind the house during the past summer. “Jonah, do you ever wonder what happened to the others?” Jobeth asked while brushing dirt from a carrot with her gloved hand. The garden had thrived under their care and she was very pleased. Gardening was becoming a passion of hers. Little seeds bursting forth with life never seemed to bore her. She could spend hours in her vegetable garden unaware of time passing. Next spring she planned to add a flowerbed. Jonah stopped what he was doing and looked at his dirty hands. He did not like to use gloves. He said he liked to get his hands right into the earth. It made him feel closer to nature. He truly believed that was why the vegetables grew so well. He was a firm believer in coddling the garden, treating it with loving care. He and Jobeth were so alike in many ways. “Yes. All the time,” he said, arching his back. He had been bent over digging and picking potatoes for a while and a stitch had begun to gnaw on his spine. “I just hope they have fared as well as we have,” Jonah replied, testing his new vocabulary. Jobeth and Shawna had been teaching him and Alan how to read and write; during this time their slang was disappearing, much to both Alan’s and Jonah’s pleasure. “I guess we will never know.” Jonah continued picking potatoes. He felt suddenly sad. The others rested heavily on his chest. He felt guilty for the fine life he was living. The likelihood that the others had done as well was unlikely. “You don’t mean that, do you? We will find them some day.” Jonah looked up into the sky. “It is not for us to know. God willing, they will be back in our graces. But there is no use letting dreams like that eat at your mind. Some things in life happen that we don’t much like, but life doesn’t have to be fair.” “That is something I do know,” Jobeth spoke softly. “That is something we all know,” Jonah replied, returning to the potatoes at hand. Jobeth sat by the roaring fire after dinner, lazily working on some mending. The nights were getting cooler and the mornings were filled with a world covered in frost. She felt content being inside the warm little house. Shawna was fast asleep in their bed and Alan and Jonah sat at the dinner table figuring out the accounts. Queenie, who had been sleeping by Jobeth’s feet, stood up and began to growl. She was not fully grown yet and was already taller than the largest pig they owned. Alan looked up from the table and Jobeth put her sewing down, glancing at the door. Someone knocked abruptly and insistently. Queenie began to growl louder and Jobeth placed her hand on the dog’s back. Her ears went down and she began to whine. The knock came again, louder. “Alan?” asked a deep voice behind the door. “It’s me, Simpson.” He knocked again, a little more forcefully. Alan, close to hysteria, stood up and pointed for Jonah and Jobeth to disappear. “The loft, go!” he whispered in a panic. Jobeth and Jonah obeyed by jumping up and climbing quickly to the loft. Messing his hair, Alan yelled out, “Coming.” He opened the door pretending to tuck his shirt in. “Come in,” Alan said, moving away from the door. His heart pounded and he fought the urge to look up at the loft. Two men followed behind the person named Simpson. “Kurt, Dean,” Alan said, nodding to the other men. The two in question looked younger than the man Simpson, but they all looked quite similar, with closely cropped brown hair and blue eyes. They all were a bit overfed and wore similar brown felt hats. “What is the meaning of such a surprise?” Alan laughed nervously patting the middle-aged Simpson’s back. “Alan,” Simpson replied, looking around the neatly kept room, his eyes resting briefly on the basket of half-finished mending. “Sorry to have to bother you like this. I hope we did not wake your little sister.” He continued to look around the room. Jobeth spied down quietly at the men, her heart beating against her rib cage uncontrollably. “The boys and I needed to have a talk with you,” Simpson said, looking back at Alan. The other two men examined the house with their eyes, searching for something. They turned on cue when Simpson spoke and sat down uninvited at the table. Alan took the money he and Jonah had been counting and placed it in a container on the shelf. He sat down with the other three men. Queenie, seeing that Alan sat calmly with the strangers, settled back at the fire and went to sleep. “Nice little home you got here, Alan,” one of the men said. He was running his finger across the fibers of the wooden table and admiring the handiwork. “How did you fix it up so good while working?” He looked up, smirking at Alan. “I manage,” Alan replied a little coolly. “Shawna helps a lot.” He started tapping his fingers on his knees under the table. Jobeth looked at Jonah crouched beside her under his bed. She placed her arm around his shaking shoulders. He tried to smile confidently at her, but failed. “Alan,” Simpson said seriously, “the reason why we’re here is because my little girl, Amy, she is in school with your sister, well she says when she walked by here the other day, she saw a nigger and a white girl running around.” Simpson stared at Alan hoping to see him falter. “Rumor around town is that you and your sister aren’t the only ones living up here.” Jonah and Jobeth clutched each other tightly in the loft. “Is there a nigger and a girl here?” Simpson asked point blank. Alan stood up angrily. “Does it look like I have anyone else around here?” He glared at the faces of the three men he worked with. He felt the heat rise on the back of his neck as anger and dread enveloped him. Everything was going so well. Jobeth even seemed to be happy. Nothing else had happened between them since the kiss, but she was always kind and sweet with him. He did not want things to change and the three before him only posed problems. He had to think quickly. “I only wish I had a girl up here.” Alan laughed, causing the other three men to laugh with him. Jobeth did not find it funny. She felt fear rising in her throat, and she squeezed Jonah for comfort. “Yah, don’t we all?” laughed one of the other men. “A real saloon gal. Yee- Hah!” he wallowed. “Well, my Amy don’t lie.” Simpson said. Jobeth and Jonah swallowed a lump forming in each of their throats. “But the doc thinks she might need specs,” Simpson said, standing up from his chair as the other men followed suit. “If there is something going on up here,” he said calmly to Alan, “I’d put a stop to it right away. We are God-fearing, good folks. We don’t want no messing around going on in our town.” He looked straight into Alan’s green eyes, telling him his true feelings. “Sorry to disturb you, Alan, but this is the way things are.” He paused, trying to lighten the mood. “Listen, there is a country dance at the Mackenzie’s on Saturday. Young Miss Jossie’s gonna be there. A young man like yourself aught to be thinking of settling down, especially with a little sister to think of. She needs a female around to teach her how to be a good wife and mother. Miss Jossie would be a mighty good catch and I know she has an eye for you.” Alan blushed deeply. Miss Jossie was Simpson’s niece and not at all his type. She was a mindless creature who constantly hung out at the lumberyard bringing him refreshments and baked goods. Alan was fully aware of her intentions and was not at all interested. “That seems fine,” Alan lied. “I will have to look into it.” “Good . . . Good,” Simpson said. “Jossie will be glad to hear it.” Jobeth felt sudden outrage. Who was Jossie? Did Alan like her? What if he did? Then she felt fear. What if Alan did want to settle down? What would happen then? How would she fit into the picture? It had never occurred to her that Alan might want to marry. But then why wouldn’t he want to get married and have his own life? She was a fool to think he would always be there to protect and care for her. One day he would want to move on. Maybe he already wanted to with this Jossie. “Well, boys, come on. Let’s get a move on before the women folks start to fret. Good-bye, Alan, and mind what I say. We like you and want to keep it that way.” Simpson said opening the door, looking serious. “Don’t worry,” Alan said too loudly as he watched them walk away. Jobeth could tell he was jittery and her heart went out to him. Alan was always concerned about how she and Jonah felt about being hidden away. They had never even thought how hard it might be for him to pretend they were not there. It must have been torture to lead two different lives. Jobeth had been so content that It had never occurred to her. “Come on down,” Alan said, after a bit of time had passed. Jobeth let out a long sigh and relaxed. “That was too close for comfort,” Jonah said, helping her down the ladder. “You’re telling me,” Alan replied, absently. His mind was a mile away. Something told Jobeth things were going to change once again.

— Chapter 4 — Jobeth and Shawna tracked up the dirt road, exhausted from a long day’s travel. Sweaty and covered with dust, they stopped to rest, collapsing at the side of the powdery brown road. Breathing heavily, Jobeth wiped her grimy brow and glanced at Shawna. The wee child lay on her back with her eyes closed, her chest rising evenly up and down. A small hand rested on her sooty forehead. Color had quickly come to Shawna’s pale cheeks during the four weeks they had been on the run. Traveling had transformed the little girl into a healthy five year old. Jobeth sighed with contentment. She was not regretting her decision to take Shawna with her. From the moment she had decided that the little girl was to be her responsibility, the child had become dearer and dearer to her. In the month they had traveled together, Jobeth came to realize that she needed Shawna as much as Shawna needed her. Time wandering in the wilderness had faded the bruises that blackened Jobeth’s body; but the bruises that surrounded her heart were still painful and tender to the touch. If she had not been responsible for Shawna, she would have given up a long time ago. When she was too exhausted to walk any farther, Shawna would look at her with such hope and admiration that Jobeth would rather die than disillusion her young charge. So she trudged on, dragging both weary feet forward, always wondering where they would sleep that night. Since they had escaped from Father James and Mother Tomalina, the girls slept in barns and fields--any place that was warm and dry. Miraculously, the second week out on the road to freedom, Jobeth stopped soiling herself at night. Although she still had the nightmares of her parent’s death, they were not as frequent as they had been at the home of the Johnston’s. Jobeth lay down beside Shawna and looked up into the blue sky. There was not a cloud to be seen and it amazed her again how quickly the sunny day could turn dark and cold. The weather was changing; winter was just around the corner and they would need permanent shelter from the elements during the days when the earth would be covered with snow. Once she thought she had found a place to stay for the winter. It was their third week traveling and they had come across a small shack that seemed to be abandoned. There was a small wood stove that could keep them warm through the cold days and nights ahead. It had seemed perfect for their immediate needs. Jobeth happily roasted a rabbit that was caught earlier that morning in a snare she made. Shawna sat by her feet cleaning some wild onions and the remainder of their carrots. Jobeth was telling Shawna another story about her family, how her Pappy taught her how to make traps and how to live off the land Shawna listened wide-eyed, envious of Jobeth because she had known her parents, whereas Shawna had not. Jobeth seemed to have endless stories about her rugged frontier father and the woman he fell in love with. She was listening intently to Jobeth’s tales when the door of the shack crashed open—both girls jumped up with a start. “Hey yah brats. Git outta ma house!” bellowed a burly bearded man dressed from head to toe in furs. Both girls leapt to their feet and clung to each other. The rabbit, forgotten, fell into the fire. Spitting juicy fat, it began to burn. Shawna whimpered, hiding behind Jobeth’s skirt. Shaken by the sight of the first person she had seen since running away, Jobeth nearly lost her legs. Bile rose in her throat and she prayed she would not vomit. “I says, git!” the fur-clad man roared, barreling toward them. Startled into action, Jobeth grabbed Shawna and their bag of meager belongings and quickly swung them around the man and out the door. The man grunted and bent to remove the burning rabbit from the stove. He ripped off a side of meat from the tender carcass and popped the flesh into his mouth, smiling. He was hungry and the meat tasted good. Jobeth continued to run with Shawna clinging to her tightly. She ran until her lungs screamed out in pain and the weight of the small child’s arms around her neck began to feel like a noose slowing her down. Finally Jobeth stopped and placed the sobbing girl down. Unable to control the churning of her belly, Jobeth turned from Shawna and let go of the yellow acidic contents of her stomach. She continued to dry heave, her insides contracting painfully, and wondered again how they would go on. Drops of sweat beaded on Jobeth’s forehead, and she absently wiped them away with a shaking hand. The world wavered before her. Dropping painfully to her knees, she closed her eyes, willing the dizziness and nausea to go away. Hiccupping, Shawna crawled on all fours up beside Jobeth. “Was, he going to kill us?” “No, no one will ever hurt us again.” Jobeth struggled to whisper and began to vomit the foul-tasting bile again. Jobeth breathed deeply of the autumn air, clearing her mind briefly. It had been over a week since they encountered the fur-clad man. The problem of where they would stay for winter was still unanswered. “Come on, Shawna. We best be on our way. We need to find a place to sleep tonight,” Jobeth said. Shawna had fallen into a light sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Without a word of complaint, she stood up and dusted herself off. She sensed Jobeth was panicking, but did not say a word. Shawna had never been happier in her life. Jobeth showered love upon the lonely child, a love she had only experienced once before--with her sister, Donna. But even Donna’s love was shadowed by the coldness that enveloped the house of Mother Tomalina and Father James. To remember Donna was to remember how her sister died and the ugliness that shadowed their lives. So now she followed Jobeth, trusting and faithful. Now that she had experienced love and felt its healing power, Shawna could not live without it. They walked for what seemed like an hour when they saw a barn and a house up ahead. Most of the windows were broken and the place looked ready to fall down upon itself. “This looks like home for the night.” Jobeth sighed, exhausted. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep an eternity of sleep. She had never felt so tired in her life. Slowly, they dragged their battered bodies up the rotten stairs in front of the house. Brown grass sprang through a hole in one of the steps, enticing an unsuspecting foot to break through. Jobeth grabbed Shawna under her arm to prevent her from going through the decayed step. “It’s scary.” Shawna spoke softly as Jobeth opened the door. It let out a painful thin squeal. She hesitantly put a foot forward, taking Shawna with her. The floor groaned in protest. Walking through the bitterly cold house, stale air assaulted their nostrils. Huge dark walls loomed before them, dwarfing the two girls. “It’s not eerie, Shawna. Why, look at these rooms! This was probably once a beautiful, rich home,” Jobeth said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. The truth was if the old dwelling had once been beautiful, it was a very long time ago. Shawna gulped and held fast to Jobeth’s hand. “I guess you’re right.” The tiny voice said hoarsely, her eyes wide with only a hint of the haunted girl in them. “Of course I’m right.” Jobeth said, trying to convince herself as she walked forward. They crept all over the house looking into spider-webbed rooms with broken floors and corners filled with mouse droppings. Finally, Jobeth opened the door to a small room that was fairly clean compared to the rest of the house. There were five dirty straw mattresses littering the floor. “This is home for the night.” Jobeth said, crawling onto the largest one. Shawna mouth clamped tight, looked behind her shoulder at the darkness beyond and quickly jumped in beside Jobeth. They cuddled close together. The mattress was soft and comfortable compared to the sleeping arrangements to which they had grown accustomed. Exhausted, Jobeth closed her eyes and tried not to think about the soft down bed she once slept in, in another life. It was best to erase the memory of her mother tucking bright, clean quilts around her--quilts she helped make. “Sweet dreams, Jobeth,” her mother’s soft voice would say as she blew out the lamp. “And remember, God is always watching over you. He is always there to protect you.” Jobeth would nod drowsily, feeling happy and content. She had no reason to disbelieve her mama. Life was filled with happiness and love. And life had always been that way. She sniffed. A single tear squeezed out from her closed eye. Where is God now, Mama? Jobeth screamed in her head. Why isn’t He protecting me anymore? Angry voices woke Jobeth from a deep, dreamless sleep. She fought to awake from the darkness that had swallowed her. Shawna was already awake and clinging to Jobeth for dear life. Her fingers dug into Jobeth’s arm like tiny needles, forcing her to come back from the darkness of her mind. “It’s all right, Shawna,” Jobeth put her arm around the trembling little girl. She was shaky and disoriented herself. Looking up toward the noise to see what or whom they were about to face, she felt fear. It had been so long since Jobeth had been in contact with people other than Shawna. They had avoided contact, as much as possible, with other people they saw on the road, hiding in bushes until it was safe. People hurt people, and they could hurt her and Shawna. A heavy feeling pressed down firmly on her chest. People could do worse: they could take Shawna from her, leaving her alone once more. That was something Jobeth would not let happen. No one would take Shawna from her. She looked up toward the screaming noises with hooded eyes, prepared to defend herself and her charge. Crowded around the mattress, like soldiers at a siege, stood six yelling boys and one shrieking girl. “They ain’t got no right in ma house!” caterwauled the girl with jet black, curly hair that frizzed out wildly around her face. Her eyes were like black rubies and seemed to be alive with fire. Her tattered brown dress fit her curvy shape snugly; her breasts heaved angrily, about to pop out of the extremely low-cut neck line. “Now Tamara, this just ain’t the way to act.” The boy receiving her fury fumed. He was an odd-looking boy who looked like he was about sixteen or seventeen years of age. He had sandy brown hair and a round, flat face with green cat-like eyes. He stood uncomfortably, gangly with his newly developed height, and stared back at the black-haired beauty. Jobeth felt numb. She wondered if she should grab Shawna and run. She felt so tired--she did not think she could outrun the group surrounding them. Another boy, with hair just as dark as the girl’s, noticed that the two terrified strangers were awake. Jobeth caught sight of him from the corner of her eyes and flinched back, holding Shawna protectively in her arms. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, ready to beat out onto the dirty floor at any moment. “Hello,” he said kindly, his deep blue eyes penetrating through Jobeth. Her breath escaped her for a moment. The boy was the most handsome person she had ever seen. Before she had time to compose herself, everyone else in the room was circling her and Shawna with questioning faces. “My name is Oliver,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And the two you just heard fighting over there are Tamara and Alan.” Oliver offered his scruffy hand slowly to Jobeth in a friendly manner. Shawna smiled hesitantly at Jobeth. She could not help herself. Oliver had already won her over with his handsome good looks and his charming smile. Jobeth twisted her lips as she watched the admiration in Shawna’s blushing face and was suddenly angry. Jumping up, she pulled Shawna with her. It didn’t matter how tired she was, she was not staying any longer in this house. Shawna frowned, confused by Jobeth’s hostility, and hid behind Jobeth’s legs. Jobeth immediately felt guilty and her anger slipped away as quickly as it had come. She cleared her throat and tried to decide whether to say something. “I am Jobeth and this is…” she pulled Shawna in front of her, almost defiantly, and glanced at the one called Tamara. At first she thought the black-haired girl was older than she was. But with a closer look, they seemed to be about the same age. “this is Shawna.” Tamara glared back with distaste. Shaken by the fiery female in front of her, Jobeth straightened her back. “We’ve been traveling for weeks,” she continued, looking around the room for a reaction. Everyone was quiet and seemed to be listening with interest, with the exception of Tamara, who had turned her back to them all. Her long black hair hung like a jungle of vines to her petite waist. Jobeth had never seen such hair before. She found it quite striking, even if she was taken aback by Tamara’s apparent resentment of her. “We thought the house was empty. We only planned to stay the night and leave in the morning.” Jobeth finished. She looked down on Shawna’s platinum head trying hard not to think of the situation they were in. Her eyes stung with fatigue and the fight in her was quickly escaping. “Well, yah see it ain’t empty,” Tamara hollered, turning around quickly, her hair flying madly about her. The boy, Alan, nudged her with his elbow, glaring at Tamara angrily. She looked back at him with as much venom. Jobeth and Shawna both jumped at Tamara’s outburst. Straightening her shoulders again, she looked directly at Tamara, whose chest was still heaving angrily. Jobeth felt like crying. She was so tired and felt so sick. Her limbs felt like dead weights hanging helplessly from her shoulders. She simply did not have the energy to battle this stranger. Her mouth began to water and Jobeth fought back the urge to gag. “I am terribly sorry if we have caused anyone any inconvenience. We’ll just be on our way.” Jobeth grasped Shawna’s hand and plunged forward, dragging her out of the tension-filled room. Her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn with tears. Every muscle in her body cried out for rest. She was defeated. It was late and too cold to sleep outside. “Now just hold on there, Jobeth,” a male voice interrupted. She stopped in her tracks. Saliva pooled in the inside of her mouth behind her bottom lip, but she didn’t dare to do a thing about it. The voice sounded like the odd-looking boy with the round face who had just argued with Tamara. What is his name? “Yes?” Jobeth asked. Her back still faced the voice. She squeezed Shawna’s hand hard feeling her wince in pain. Alan stared at the straight, thin back of the peculiar girl as she clutched tightly to the ghostly white child. His chest tightened at her stubborn refusal to turn and face him. He looked to Oliver, questioning him with a raised right eyebrow. Oliver nodded his head, giving Alan the answer he wanted. “Yah two are welcome to stay here.” Alan spoke quickly before the spooked girl ran out of the house with her little waif in tow. Jobeth closed her mouth and held her breath. She really did not want to stay, but she was so tired and --something she didn’t want to admit--she was lonely. The last person she had spoken to who was her own age was Judith. Judith was Jobeth’s best friend before her parents accident. She cried with Jobeth after her parents were killed. She also wept, her red pig-tailed head buried into Jobeth’s shoulder, before Jobeth was sent to live with her new foster parents. “I will never forget you, Jobeth,” Judith had pledged the day Jobeth left. They had clung together, two friends never to see each other again, their lives headed in opposite directions. Jobeth pulled away from Judith’s freckled, wet face and climbed into the wagon. Her belongings were packed neatly in a small chest in the back, secured with thick ropes. “I will never forget you either, Judith,” Jobeth promised as the horses pulled away from the sobbing girl. She waved frantically at Judith, but her friend, overcome with grief, ran away, her hands covering her face, unable to bear seeing her friend leave. She hadn’t thought of Judith since she entered the doors of the Johnston home. And she did not want to think of her now. Judith would be appalled to see what had become of Jobeth’s life. Suddenly Nick came to mind. The boy Jobeth had spoken with at Mother Tomalina and Father James’. He was tough and scarred from battles fought too young in life, but full of life and laughter regardless. Judith would have wrinkled her brown spotted nose at Nick. But Jobeth had rather liked him. She then thought of the ragged lot behind her. They were like Nick. She looked down at her thin, faded dress. She had given Shawna her tattered sweater to keep her warm. It hung down to Shawna’s knees, causing her to look lost in the stretched garment, but it at least kept the chill out, if only a little. Jobeth fingered the material of her dress. She would freeze with nothing but its flimsy cover. Judith would not be caught dead in a rag dress like the one Jobeth wore. She was like Nick now. She was like the people behind her: tough and scarred, ragged on the inside and out. No, I am still different, she thought. I am mostly dead inside. Only the darkness of dreamless sleep soothes my soul. “There ain’t no place for yah to go and we don’t mind the extra company at all. Plus, that there little one don’t look like she can go nowheres but bed.” Alan’s voice cut into Jobeth’s thoughts. He knew Jobeth was seriously weighing his offer. He refrained from mentioning that she looked as though she would drop in her own shoes at any moment. Finally, turning to the voice speaking to her, Jobeth surveyed Alan. He had strong, green, cat-like eyes. A strand of hair bobbed up and down on his forehead, giving Jobeth the feeling that Alan was a boy fighting in a man’s body. She looked away, blushing, feeling she had seen something private and personal about him. The other boys in the room were all smiling at her, trying to make her feel welcomed. Her eyes came to rest and widened on a child’s face that sat oddly on a young man’s body. He flashed Jobeth a wonderful, bright smile. She could not help staring, speechless. The boy’s skin was a deep, rich chocolate brown. Embarrassed by her rudeness, she turned her gaze quickly to the handsome raven-haired Oliver. “Stay, Jobeth. We’d all like you to stay.” Oliver walked over toward the hesitant girl and placed a warm hand on her bony shoulder. Jobeth instinctively pulled back, repulsed, but then relaxed as Oliver gently coaxed them back into the room by taking Shawna’s small hand. Unable to help themselves, they both followed Oliver shyly. Alan stood alone and held his breath. Anger began to burn in his chest. Oliver’s smooth talking had again worked its magic. Jobeth glanced back over her shoulder at Alan, who looked lost and awkward. His heart pounded heavily in his ribcage. This new girl was different. He could tell she wasn’t like them, even though she looked like it. She had come from better--a flower hidden in the weeds. He smiled awkwardly and blushed because it felt silly and forced. Jobeth grinned weakly back and turned away. Alan lowered his head, feeling like a fool. “Humph,” Tamara smirked, moving to stand beside Alan. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to compose himself. Tamara stood righteously with her arms tensely crossed over her large breasts. Her exposed cleavage bulged in Alan’s face. “What now, Tamara?” Alan steamed, looking away from her chest and back to Jobeth, who sat quietly listening to Oliver. “Seems Oliver found a new toy to play with, don’t it, Alan?” she asked, nastily pursing her red lips together. She cackled, noticing Alan’s red face and walked over to the other side of the room where Jonah, the black boy who had shocked Jobeth, sat. Tamara plunked down beside Jonah as graceful as a lump of clay and continued to smirk at Alan. His attention veered from Tamara, tired of her obnoxious ways, and went back to watching the new girl. Jobeth was putting Shawna back down on the mattress they had been sleeping on. Oliver was talking a mile a minute and Alan could not help noticing Jobeth shyly smiling back. His heart pounded painfully again. Absently, he reached up and rubbed at the pulsing muscle beneath his chest. His fingers moved up and down in rhythm to his heart. His fingers tingled warmly with the motion. Jobeth was the most unusual girl he had ever seen.

Chapter 2 & 3

— Chapter 2 —
Puffy white clouds floated across the clear blue sky. It was harvest time and Jobeth was out in the field, picking corn with the other children. She threw a cob into a sack and wiped the freely flowing sweat from her brow. Her face was a mass of black and blue bruises After Father James raped her, he whipped her ruthlessly with the belt. Her entire body was covered with welts and she ached all over.
“I have to leave,” Jobeth said under her breath. “I cannot let him come back tomorrow.” Visions of the morning filled her mind. She shivered, feeling as though she were dipped in a pool of ice. The day was sweltering hot, but she felt cold. “No,” she said out loud, “I will not think about it.” She shook her swollen head back and forth. Pressure formed in the front of her skull. The ground swirled before her eyes and she felt faint. Jobeth closed her eyes and sat on the ground until the dizziness passed, her fingers raking the gritty dirt beneath her. “Oh God!” she sobbed, clutching her arms. Tears fell uncontrollably as her nails dug into her already bruised skin. Droplets of blood pooled around her fingers, but she did not feel it. “Jobeth?” A tiny voice broke through Jobeth’s tears. She wiped grimy tears away with her fist and looked up into a small, pale, porcelain face. Shawna had lived with the Johnstons since she was eight months old Her long platinum blond hair fell limply in her face. Her steel blue eyes stood out strikingly against her unearthly pale skin. She would have been a beautiful child if she had not been so sickly pale and if dark circles did not shadow her haunted blue eyes. Jobeth slowly stood up, embarrassed to be caught crying, and dusted her dress off. “Yes, Shawna?” She sniffed trying to compose herself. She had purposely gone deep into the fields to be away from the other children. The thought of anyone seeing her after what happened with Father James appalled her. Surely they could tell she was defiled. She looked down at the tiny girl. Shawna was so small for her five years that it was easy not to have seen her. “Are yah okay?” Shawna questioned, and blushed, looking at her scruffy shoes.“Yes.” Jobeth lied “Yes.” “You look like yah got it bad.” Shawna continued. “What?” Jobeth uttered too loudly. Her head snapped toward the puny girl. What if Shawna could tell what had happened to her? Did she look soiled now? She surely felt dirty and polluted. Jobeth cleared her throat and ignored the images forming in her mind. No one could know what happened in that room. No one. “Sorry,” Shawna jumped back frightened, “Your face,” she shuddered. “He must ‘ave beat yah badly.” Jobeth’s hand fluttered to her swollen face. “I’m all right,” she said, feeling guilty. The child was as nervous as a newborn colt. She remembered when one of Pappy’s mares had given birth to a chestnut colored colt. She had gone to pet its damp nose and it had bolted from her outstretched hand with a comical leap into the air. Shawna reminded Jobeth of that colt. High-strung and skittish, ready to leap into the air at the slightest movement toward her. It had never occurred to Jobeth before that maybe the neglect she was experiencing could be happening to the child before her. A sinking sensation crawled up her neck and into her face, making her cheeks tingle. “Shawna,” Jobeth said wiping her nose again, “I have to go to the outhouse. So if anyone asks where I am, tell them that, all right?” She had squatted down to the miniature girl’s level. Shawna lifted her frail face up to Jobeth and fought back tears welling in her enormous eyes. Please. Jobeth yelled in her mind. Do not let me think of you. I have to leave. I cannot worry about you.“You know Mother and Father don’t like it when we go to the outhouse during work.” Shawna wavered. A large drop of salty water formed in the corner of her eye. “I know, but I have to go badly,” Jobeth tried to ignore the tear. She would not feel responsible for a child she hardly knew. During the time Jobeth had come to live at the home, she had hardly seen Shawna. Only in the fields and the odd times at the dreadful kitchen table. There, Jobeth and the other children would eat the same watery soup and dry bread every mealtime. Sometimes if they were lucky, they would be rewarded with a little butter and the odd glass of milk from one of the many cows that the Johnstons owned. Jobeth’ s mouth always watered at the smells of roast beef and other dishes Mother Tomalina prepared for Father James. More than once at the supper table as she stared at their savory foods and ate her soup, she envisioned ways to snatch a leg of lamb or chicken, but was always too frightened of the ever-watchful Mother Tomalina. Maybe at night when everyone slept she would creep up the cellar stairs and steal quietly into the icebox and satisfy the constant hunger that plagued the pit of her stomach But alas, when evening came and everyone slept, Jobeth lay trembling under her gray sheets, picturing the old woman patrolling the icebox with its contents of leftovers. Shawna looked up at Jobeth beseechingly. It struck her that the child never played. This she knew because Shawna was always working. “Look, Shawna, I have to go. If I don’t go then I will wet myself and soil my clothes. I will be whipped again and I do not need another beating,” Jobeth pleaded. This was her chance, her only chance to leave. Mother Tomalina would not be expecting to see Jobeth until the sun was down. If Jobeth left now she would not be missed for hours. This would put plenty of distance between her and the dreaded house. “Okay.” Shawna said, head bent low, turning around slowly. Her little frame looked as though it would blow away like the frail dress whipping angrily around her. Faded and worn, her bony structure was visible through the thin material as it struggled to pull away. Jobeth took a deep breath, wincing at the pain she felt throughout her entire body. She turned and hurried toward the outhouse. Shawna could be watching. She must not give herself away by going in another direction. She picked up her ratty sweater, half-eaten by moths and tied it around her scrawny waist. She had become increasingly thin living with the Johnstons and the sleeves of the sweater hung limply between her legs, nearly reaching her knees, knees that a couple of hours ago were viciously torn apart to amuse Father James She closed her eyes tight, erasing the images of the morning threatening to play themselves out again in her mind. Run. If she ran she would escape what happened in the dank cellar. Her feet began to move. The sleeves of her sweater twisted between her legs as the sack dragged behind her. She quickly grabbed corn, rhubarb and other vegetables growing in the field and tossed them into the bag. Her chest heaved painfully from the effort and her heart beat frantically for what she was about to do. “I can’t get caught,” Jobeth sobbed. The memory of Father James’ “purple snake,” as hard as a rock, forcing into her, ripping her, humiliating her, flashed before Jobeth’s eyes. She rubbed away tears streaming down her grubby face with the palm of her hand.“I need a bath. Oh God how I need a bath! I have to get his smell off me! How will I ever get his smell off me? “ Jobeth stopped in her tracks, her chest heaving up and down and clutched her hands to her mouth. “What has happened to me? What has happened to my life? Things used to be so simple.” Jobeth sobbed out loud, her tears streaming freely. She felt her heart would break. “Why did you die Mama, Pappy? Why? How could you do this to me?” She moaned. A grimy strand of hair went into her wet eyes and she absently pushed it behind her ear. The wheat in the fields swayed in the wind, making rustling noises that startled Jobeth. “What am I doing standing here like a fool crying? I have to look out for myself now. There is no one for me anymore. I am alone.” She stood up and breathed deeply. The autumn air felt crisp as it went into her lungs clearing them of the heaviness surrounding her heart. Jobeth felt light-headed as she looked beyond the rows of wheat. Later, She would have to reflect on everything. Right now she needed to get herself far away from the Johnstons.She began to run. Jobeth wrinkled her nose as she reached the rat-infested outhouse. She thought of entering the rotting structure with its cold, splintery seats and decided against it. The smell inside was putrid and she already felt nauseated from the fumes emanating from the open door. If she needed to use the lavatories, she would just go outside. At one time in her life, the thought of relieving herself in public was mortifying, but many things had changed since those days. Jobeth never had to worry about being bitten by rats in her old water closet. Mama and she would always scrub the privy regularly, dousing it with lye. Using the outdoors as a washroom seemed more civilized than the dangerous, infectious outhouse that stood before her now. “I will never have anything to do with this place again,” she said, staring up at the house. She crouched down behind the tall grass. It was not really a nice house. It slanted to the right. The original builder of the house, Mother Tomalina’s father, had not been very bright and built it in the winter on frozen ground, so every year during spring, the house shifted and sunk down more to the right. Soon it would sink right through to the bottom of the earth, straight to hell where it belonged. The roof was falling apart and would not be fixed until the cold came and Father James sent one of the young boys up to patch it. Mother Tomalina was sitting in her usual spot at that time of day, rocking in a stiff old rocking chair given to her by one of the villagers. “To rock the waifs in,” The elderly haired woman who had donated the chair had commented. There was never a waif rocked in that chair or a child who wanted to be held in Mother Tomalina’s flabby arms. She always sat like an angel, how she wanted others to see her, but really she was a demon, smirking and rocking at the passing neighbors, looking quite saintly, as she selfrighteously perceived herself to be. “That kind, elderly lady,” the ladies of the town would say, while waving at Mother Tomalina as she sat rocking and knitting away. Mother Tomalina would wave back, giving her best sanctified smile and continue to knit. “It is too bad about her husband, always in town with heathen women,” one would say. “Didn’t one of those orphaned girls they took in turn to wicked ways?” the other would say. “I hear tell Mr. James takes a real liking to her. What a shame for poor Mrs. Johnston. She works so hard to give those children a real home.” They would shake their heads sadly. “To think one of the strays she took under her wing would betray her with her own husband. Two heartbreaks: turning against God and selling herself with the only man known to her as Pa. It is disgraceful.” As soon as they were out of sight of the rocking chair, they would shake their heads and carry on their way forgetting about poor Mrs. Johnston and her wild husband. Jobeth had seen it before in the store when she had been sent to fetch supplies. The whispers passed from one bonneted lady to the other. She saw the distrustful sneers when a lady walked by with her husband. A protective grasp to their man’s arm, as though a mere look from Jobeth would cause their husbands to stray. She had always felt confused by their response. She knew she wasn’t as tidy as she had been before her parents’ death, but Mother Tomalina refused for other people to see the children in her charge dressed in their usual attire. There was a special dress for the older girls and a pair of slacks and shirt for the older boys for such trips into town. Only one boy and one girl could ever be seen in town together, because there was no other outfit for the rest to wear. Jobeth, who was used to being treated as one of the respected children in town, was now thought of as white trash and shunned by the townspeople. Not used to this treatment, she sometimes forgot herself and would start a conversation with a girl around her age, only to have a protective mother herd her daughter away from the ragamuffin child. Jobeth’s ego would be bruised and she would be brought back to the reality of where she was. The girl she had once been, the one with a mother and father and a younger brother, was dead. Just like her parents. Just like her brother. They might as well have all died together. Had she provoked Father James to do what he had done to her? She shook her head and cleared the impression forming again in her mind and turned from the sight of Mother Tomalina’s portrait of a wronged woman. Her eyes searched the expansive area. She spotted Father James in the barn with Dex, a ten-yearold boy who had just come to live at the Johnston’s. Jobeth’s heart once more began to pound uncontrollably. Her breath came in quick sharp thrusts and she realized that she was nearly panting. She looked at Dex and remembered something one of the older boys had once told her. When a boy turned fourteen, Father James would make him pay for his bed to sleep in and the food he ate. Jobeth had asked if any boy had worked for his bed and measly dinner and the boy had said he’d be fourteen soon and would be gone before he would pay for poorly flavored water and a bug-ridden bed. Jobeth had laughed. The boy, Nick, was nice and she enjoyed having him to talk to. She had been so lonely since her parents had died. “What about girls, Nick?” Jobeth had asked once in the barn. They had been sent to milk the cow and she stood behind Nick’s bent back as he finished squirting milk into a tin bucket. He stood up and faced Jobeth. She was already fourteen so she knew girls did not have to pay for their keep, even though Jobeth felt that the backbreaking work she did in the fields was payment enough. Nick’s expression had become dark and he had turned away. “Nick?” Jobeth asked the dark-haired youth. “What about the girls, do they pay?” Jobeth did not like the way he clammed up. Nick, a rambunctious youth with a glimmer in his smile, was a boy who seldom kept a word to himself. He turned to Jobeth, his bangs hiding his brown eyes. “They pay, Jobeth. They pay dearly.” “What is that supposed to mean?” Jobeth responded. Her heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. She suddenly felt like a trapped rabbit. Did she really want to know what he meant? “They pay with their souls, Jobeth, they all pay with their souls. Leave before yours is taken too.” He turned and scooped up his bucket of milk, not saying a word to her. What he said left her surprised, confused, speechless and very afraid. Shortly after they talked, Nick disappeared. The day before he left, he asked Jobeth to leave with him. She shook her head, afraid. How would she survive out in the world? Now she wished she had left with Nick. Anything would have been better than the ordeal she had endured that morning. Now she would have to leave on her own. Maybe she could find Nick? Then she wouldn’t be alone. But would Nick want to be with her if he knew what Father James had done? Jobeth rubbed her arms roughly. They ached not only from her beating but also for someone to comfort her and make everything all right. She was so alone. So terribly alone. Little Shawna’s face popped into her mind. Small and pale and so very young. It dawned on Jobeth that once she was gone, Shawna would be the only girl left. She shivered thinking of the small, frail girl. Again she steadied her head, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts. She could not think about anyone or anything but herself and the urgency of leaving. Jobeth turned to depart. She had seen enough; there were no second thoughts. She did not want to think what lay ahead; she just wanted to get as far away as possible. She swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk swiftly away from the house. She didn’t notice the small figure materialize before her, until it was too late and she collided with Shawna. Both girls tumbled to the ground. Dust flew high above them and fell slowly, like a baby’s blanket coming to rest on top of the fallen girls. “What are you doing here?” Jobeth sat up, trying to shake the fear that had jumped up into her throat. The thought that she had been caught would not leave her. She stood up and started dusting herself off with her hands. Shawna mimicked Jobeth, dusting herself off and copying her movements, step by step. She looked up at the older girl, embarrassed, clumsily trying to hide a bulging burlap bag behind her back. The small child knew she had frightened Jobeth terribly and she felt awful about this. “Are you leaving?” Shawna whispered as Jobeth’s face drained of blood. This cannot be happening, Jobeth thought. She glared up at the angry sun that was determined to bake them alive. “Please,” Shawna begged with desperation, her hands clasped together in prayer, “take me too?” Jobeth looked pale beneath her bruised face, but she was listening. Shawna struggled to raise the sack she held behind her back. “I won’t be a bother, I got food so yah won’t have to share. I don’t eat much so yah could have most of my food too. Please take me too. I is begging yah.” A tear slid from her bleached blue eyes and Jobeth could see something haunted, something she did not want to see. Closing her own weary lids, she tried to block out the little girl’s pitiful face. “Shawna, I can’t,” Jobeth clenched her teeth. She felt awful and her lips began to quiver as she pleaded with this child she barely knew. Shawna was trembling, ready to erupt into tears. “Can’t you see you would hold me back? They would search for you. They have had you for so long.” “Noo,” she whimpered, tears rolling freely down her ashen face. Her little hands went up to rub quickly swelling eyes and her lips protruded in a pout. “You don’t know. I’ll grow up and be a big girl and, and . . . he’ll do it to me too, when I’m big like you. I can’t stay cause I’ll end up like the other big girls.” “What other big girls?” Jobeth grasped Shawna’s arm ignoring the child’s astonished face. Tall grass swayed on either side of them and she quickly pulled her and Shawna into the safety of it. Time was already ticking against her. If anyone saw the two girls standing and talking to one another, it would be all over for them and Father James would be back to hurt Jobeth. “What other girls, Shawna?” Jobeth implored, unable to stop herself from shaking the child by the shoulders. If there were other girls, what had happened to them? Jobeth was suddenly desperate to know. Nick had said girls paid with their souls. Did he mean what Father James had done to her? Had Father James done the same thing to other girls? “The other girls who left.” Shawna choked, her head shaking back and forth on her shoulders. Jobeth’s eyes were darting frantically in their sockets, causing Shawna to become frightened. Her reaction reminded Shawna of a trapped doe with starving wolves surrounding it, trying in vain to escape to freedom.“They weren’t ever found, Jobeth, except that one gal. But she wasn’t really found--she just went to town and became . . . “ Shawna looked around to see if anyone else was listening. Seeing there was no one in sight, she cupped her hands to her mouth and whispered, “a whore.” Jobeth pulled back from Shawna gasping and looked at her disapprovingly. Her hand raked through her greasy hair as she absently pulled it away from her tense face. Could the stories be true about the prostitute who had once lived at the Johnston home? Father James’ favorite? Is this the girl the town talked about?Their souls? Nick’s words echoed in Jobeth’s ear. A cold finger rippled up her spine and goose bumps began to rise on her arms. She rubbed them harshly with the palm of her hands.“But the other girls weren’t found, they won’t find us either. Mother and Father never search for runaways long. Only for what looks good in town. When the town folk say its just another ungrateful foundling, Mother and Father stop looking and get another child. It’s the truth.” Shawna bent to look at Jobeth eagerly. “What other girls?” Jobeth asked sternly, looking beyond Shawna.“My sister.” Shawna became a grisly white and the shadows under her eyes darkened. She bowed and stared at her worn shoes. “You have a sister?” Jobeth was surprised. As far as she knew, they were the only girls at the Johnston’s home. “I had me a sister. Her name was Donna. Ain’t that a pretty name?” She smiled as she looked up. Jobeth forced her lips to smile back. The child was beautiful when she smiled, even with her ailing waxen color. “Yes it is very pretty.” “When I have me a baby girl one day, I’m naming her Donna,” Shawna said in a faraway voice. Jobeth stood impatiently waiting for Shawna to continue. “Donna said our real folks loved us. I don’t ‘member the folks cause I was just a babe in nappies, but Donna ‘membered, that being she was eight when our folks up and died of the fever. They took Donna and me away. Our folks were scared we’d get it. That’s what Donna told me. I wish I had known them,” Shawna said longingly picturing parents she never knew. “We was sent here after they died. First nothing real bad happened. Just always working lots, like now. But then Father started doing his thing with Donna. Just like he done with Melodie. Touching her in places he ain’t suppose too. Melodie said she was running away and Donna better get me and her out fast before he come after us. I was just four and so scared.” A tear started to fall down her white cheek leaving a dirty trail behind and her eyes became vacant. “Donna always said, Don’t worry, Pun. I’ll never let nothing happen to you.’ “Melodie was fourteen and Donna was twelve when Melodie ran away in the night. Don’t know what happened to her. Time passed and Father kept looking at Donna funny and touching her. Donna kept saying, ‘Just a little longer, Pun, and I’ll have enough money for us to run away. I don’t want us to starve.’” I knew where she was gettin’ the money. Stealing from peoples’ pockets in town. Could have had her hands chopped off if they’d caught her.”Jobeth sighed and placed a grubby hand to her head, wondering where the girl got such an idea into her head. “Don’t think Donna was bad stealin’, “ Shawna defended her sister, pointing a chicken bone of a finger at Jobeth. “I don’t, Shawna. I don’t. She was just thinking how you both were going to survive.” Jobeth had not even thought of money. How was she going to survive? A scream started to build in bottom of Jobeth stomach. How was she going to do this? “One morning,” Shawna continued, more tears falling down her cheeks, “he came into our room wanting more than just touching. Donna told me to hide when he comes burstin’ into the room. I did, ‘cause I always listen to Donna. She was smart and took care of me. Well, he tore her up bad down there where yah pee. She was bleeding all over. I watched the whole thing while peeking from under the bed. He just kept pushing on her. She screamed and screamed, but he don’t listen. No one here listens to screams. I wanted to go help her, but Donna looked over at me and shook her head. She whispered for me to stay under the bed. I knew she was afraid he’d come after me next if he knew I was there. So I stayed under the bed and watched.” Jobeth felt sick. Images of Father James on top of her, hurting her… Jobeth clutched her head in her hands and squeezed tightly, holding on for dear life, her dirty hair poking out of her fingers. No. She wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t relive it. It was best to forget and never think it happened. Shawna sniffed and rubbed her runny nose with the back of her sleeve, her mind recalling the day her sister had been raped. “When he left, I crawled out from under the bed. Donna was bleeding and crying. She didn’t look herself at all. She was all white and her lips were blue. Her teeth kept on chattering together and her body kept jerking. ”’Donna let’s go away from here now,’ I begged her. I ran to our bed and grabbed the blankets on top. She seemed to be real cold, so I put them over her. She looked up at me all glassy-eyed and told me to be brave, and not to be afraid anymore. She told me to get away from here before I got to be a big girl. “‘The money’s in the mattress take it, promise me?’ Donna said, grabbin’ my hand. “‘I will Donna. It’s our money when we run away.’ I say to her, cryin’. Donna’s eyes were open, but they seemed really scary lookin’. Just kept staring at the ceiling. She wouldn’t blink or anything. I begged her to stop foolin’, but she never moved. “I stayed with her a long time, till Mother came yelling at us to get to work. She saw me shaking Donna and stopped yelling. She just ran over and put a hand on her chest. “’Git out of here! Out!’ she hollered. I didn’t know what to do. “’What’s wrong with Donna?’ I asked her. “’She’s dead’ Mother said as if it were nothing.” Jobeth’s throat started to close up and she could not breathe. She knew only too well the pain and loss that Shawna felt. “I said to her, ‘No. Donna ain’t dead. She ain’t. We’re running away from you and Father so he can’t hurt Donna no more.’ “Mother got real angry and grabbed my arm, twistin’ it till it hurt. “’You listen to me if you don’t want to end up like your whoring sister. Donna had a high fever she couldn’t break, and that’s what killed her.’ “’It was Father’s pushing on her that kilt her.’ I yelled. ”He tore her all up and she couldn’t stop bleeding.’ Mother got so mad she done slapped me real hard across the face. “’Those are lies.’ Mother starts yelling. I ain’t never seen Mother so mad before, and I seen her plenty mad. “’You listen here, you little devil. I’ll kill you myself if I hear those foul words from your filthy mouth again. Now get out.’ “I ran out of my room and hid in the barn. When it went night, I figured it would be best I get back to the house before it got too late and I got whipped for being out past the dark time. Donna was gone. I never saw her again. I asked Mother where she was at, and she said that she was in hell where she belonged and not to worry, I’d be there soon to help her shovel coal for the devil.” Shawna looked up at Jobeth, cheeks all streaked with tears and dirt. A small fist rubbed viciously across her puny red nose as she sniffled.Jobeth suddenly realized the reason why this little shell of a girl was just that, a shell. The horror Shawna had faced at such a young age had robbed the child of everything. The pain on her babyish face weakened Jobeth’s already broken heart. She ached all over from her brutal rape and the new responsibility of this defeated child before her.She could not leave Shawna. If she did, she would never be able to live with herself. The girl would come with her. How she would care for her, Jobeth did not know. But if she left Shawna, she would be as dark and monstrous as Father James and Mother Tomalina. She would never be that cruel to anyone, never. “How will we survive? I have never been on my own,” she whispered staring across the yellow fields. A gust of wind tugged at Jobeth’s insufficient dress, matting her sweaty, sticky hair. “I still have the money,” Shawna disclosed softly. Jobeth bent her head down to Shawna’s hopeful face. She continued, seeing Jobeth’s interest. “I saved it for when I’d run.” She bit her bottom lip, making it paler, and looked at Jobeth under light eyelashes, “I even stole some from Father. He thought it was one of the older boys and beat him real bad.” She returned her gaze to her battered shoes, shamefully. Jobeth said nothing. Shawna’s lips clasped tightly and stubbornly, together, “I had to. I’m not bad. An I ain’t going to go to hell neither. I don’t give a dickens what Mother says. Donna ain’t in hell, she’s in heaven with Mama and Papa and when the Lord calls for me I’s guess that’s where I’ll be headed too.” Jobeth placed a hand on the little girl’s bony shoulder. Shawna tilted her wet face up to face of the young woman standing tall and stiff. She began to shiver from the look in Jobeth’s eyes and her lips began to tremble uncontrollably. “You are not bad, Shawna, and no one will ever make you feel that way again.” She whispered, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Shawna released her breath and smiled. She didn’t realize she had been holding it.
— Chapter 3 —
Jobeth and Shawna ran with their skirts billowing out behind them and their hands held tightly together. They were afraid to look back. Shawna kept up the best she could with Jobeth, but Jobeth was possessed to run as far as possible from Mother Tomalina and Father James. She would not stop even when her face was beet red under her bruises. Shawna was exhausted but afraid to ask Jobeth to slow down for fear she would be sent back to the Johnstons. She knew Jobeth had not wanted to bring her. There was no where Shawna wanted to be other than with the strong girl running beside her. She never wanted to return from where she came. Never. Exhausted, Jobeth stopped and stumbled to her knees, dragging an equally exhausted Shawna to her own shins. They were both heaving heavily. Shawna felt her lungs would collapse. “Look.” Jobeth panted pointing straight ahead of them. The little girl squinted but could not see anything. Her eyes were blurry from running in the wind. “What is it?” Shawna panted, unable to catch her breath. She spit out a stream of saliva.“It’s . . . it’s a pond.” Jobeth began to laugh oddly. She started to get up. Wiping her sweaty brow with the crook of her arm, Jobeth reached down and grasped Shawna’s twig-like arm, lifting the confused child to her feet. She was almost exuberant over finding a pond. Shawna could not understand this joy as she had never known the need to be clean, having spent most of her five years barely bathing. Kicking off her ill-fitting shoes, Jobeth walked straight to the stream and bent first to drink the cool water. Shawna followed. Surprised at how thirsty they were, they greedily gulped water from the pond. “Have you ever tasted water so good, Shawna?” Jobeth spouted between gulps. She cupped her hands together and took another large gulp of water, savoring each drop as it passed her lips. The excess was permitting to dribble down her chin. “Cain’t say as I has.” Shawna replied. Jobeth turned and smiled at the clean circle around Shawna’s lips. Was that color she saw in the child’s face? “You know, Shawna, it is not proper English to use words like ‘cain’t’. It is, ‘I cannot say that I have.’” Jobeth said sternly. If she was going to be responsible for the young girl, she was not going to have her sounding like an uneducated hick. Shawna lips dropped into a frown. Her dirty face was streaked with water. “I’s sorry.” Shawna whispered, feeling ashamed. She had already offended Jobeth right when she seemed so happy to find this pond. Shawna looked down at her clean, moist palms. Red lines and calluses from long days of working in the fields glared up at her. She was no good. Jobeth would leave her behind. A painful lump began to push its way into her throat, bringing with it pesky, salty tears to fill her eyes. Shawna bit her lip and desperately tried to hold back from crying. Jobeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks, realizing she had crushed Shawna’s tender feelings. She felt awful--like a bully. Couldn’t she have just let her enjoy the water, instead of criticizing? . “No need,” Jobeth corrected herself, placing a hand on Shawna’s shoulder, “You will learn soon enough. Probably very quickly. You seem quite intelligent. You just need proper guidance. You have never been taught. In fact, when Pauli-my little brother--was five, he did not have quite the understanding you do. So there is nothing to be upset about.” She gave Shawna the best smile she could muster. Shawna sighed with relief. Jobeth thought she was intelligent. She was not sure what the word meant, but it was obvious it was a word that pleased the older girl. The pale child grinned back at Jobeth, her hurt feelings forgotten. Jobeth stood up and reached for Shawna. “Let’s go swimming and see what is under all this dirt.” “I ain’t never swam before.” Shawna stiffened. Jobeth was going to be hard to please. “No need to worry, I will show you. But today we don’t have time. We’ll just clean off,” Jobeth said while holding back the urge to correct Shawna’s speech again. She walked into the water. Shawna stood on the shore, hesitant to follow. The water felt cool and refreshing. Jobeth sank down to her knees, her dress ballooning around her. She giggled out loud and encouraged Shawna to kneel down too. It felt good to laugh again. Jobeth couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed or felt good. “Take the sand from the bottom of the pond and rub it on your skin.” Jobeth grabbed at the cool, grainy floor and started rubbing sand roughly on her neck and arms. She sighed and dunked her head back into the water. The water tickled her ears and she felt herself relaxing just a bit. “My Pappy used to say if you don’t have soap and a tub, a pond and sand will do the job just the same.”“Will it clean your hair?” Shawna asked rubbing sand on her arms, amazed that it worked. She looked up at Jobeth for an answer. Shawna always liked how nice her hair felt after being washed. So soft and fresh.“I don’t know. I guess we could try it.” Jobeth grabbed a large handful of the muddy substance and plopped it on Shawna’s head. She squealed with delight and mashed the sand into her hair. Jobeth laughed and grabbed another handful, plopping it on her own head and grinding it into her scalp. Both girls began to laugh and splash each other as though they had always known each other. Warmth encased Jobeth’s tattered body. Covered in sand, she scoured harder on her arms, legs, chest and stomach. She wanted to rub sand between her legs to wash away the filth Father James had put there, but thought against it. She was already very sore down below. Shawna, delighted, closed her eyes and splashed the water with her tiny hands, sending beaded droplets up into the air. Jobeth, seeing her chance, quickly and gently rubbed her swollen genitals with her fingers, until she was clean. She did not feel clean, but at least the proof that James had been there was gone. “We better rinse off.” The thought of Father James sobering her. How she longed to stay in that pond. But that was impossible. They had come far that day but not far enough. “All right.” Shawna splashed water over her muddy arms. “I’ll just dive under water and get the sand out of my hair and then I will help you with yours.” In an instant Jobeth was down beneath the surface of the now murky water. When she resurfaced, she was still black and blue, but at least she was clean. She helped Shawna rinse her hair and they both got out of the pond and sat on the grass to dry off. “We should eat something to keep up our strength,” Jobeth said, combing the tangles out of Shawna’s clean hair with her fingers. Shawna, who had never experienced loving hands brush her hair, basked in the glory of her newfound attention. This day would be etched in her memory forever. In all her five years this was the happiest she’d ever felt. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as Jobeth continued to detangle her hair. She had been secretly thinking of eating too, but was afraid of ruining the wonderful time and didn’t dare to ask. What if Jobeth felt she was too much of a bother, or ate too much? Maybe she would not want to keep Shawna with her. So she kept quiet. A hungry belly she could deal with. But in just the short time she had spent with Jobeth, she knew she could never be without her. “We will eat one carrot each and a raw cob of corn. Maybe tomorrow we will find something else to eat.” Jobeth stood up and went back to the pond where their sack had been left on the shore. She grabbed two large carrots and cleaned them in the pond. A light breeze caused her damp dress to cling. Walking quickly, Jobeth fretted about where they should go. She could not think of anywhere in particular. Suddenly, she remembered something her father had said to her not too long ago. They were out in the buggy looking at a fence that needed mending. Jobeth went with her Pappy because she enjoyed the ride and his conversation. She always felt so peaceful sitting beside the father she loved so dearly. The sun began to fall behind the horizon. Pauli had been standing behind them telling tales of fighting pirates, dragons and wizards. Jobeth laughed as Pappy declared that Pauli had the greatest imagination he had ever heard. “Oh Pappy, it’s all just playing,” Pauli said, not sure if having an imagination was a good thing or a bad thing. “Look children,” Pappy said, slowing the buggy to a stop. The horses stomped their feet in protest and snorted in disapproval. Jobeth and Pauli looked where their father pointed and saw the reddish yellow of the sun slowly burning out beyond the valley. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there, I put my sights toward the sun and let my feet carry me home.” Pappy said in a faraway voice. “You talking about the old days again, Pa?“ Pauli asked while leaning over his shoulder, his eyes transfixed by the fiery sun.“Remember that hymn we sing in church?” Pappy asked as he turned to Jobeth. She looked at him solemnly. “How does it go again? Oh yes. ‘I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now I see…’’ Pappy stared at Jobeth making her feel that the moment was very important: something she should remember. “Yes, Pappy, I remember it. It’s Amazing Grace.” Jobeth answered, gazing at the horizon. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there, I put my sights toward the sun and let my feet carry me home. I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now I see.” Pappy’s eyes were kind and warm, as his words were softly embedded in his daughter’s heart. They sat silently for a few moments. Pauli mouthed the phrases his father had just spoken. He looked in frustration at his father and sister. “Pappy, I don’t get it. What does it mean?” “Well, it brought me to your mother.” Pappy turned around and messed with Pauli’s hair. “But Mama didn’t find you, Pappy. I still don’t get it,” Pauli said, shooing his father’s hand away. Michael Roberts looked back at Jobeth and gently took her hand in his. It felt warm and safe. “One day you will understand. It is not for me to explain it for you,” Pappy answered, still looking at Jobeth. She had the strangest feeling he was speaking only to her and not her brother. “I still don’t get it,” Pauli said, tossing a piece of grass out of the wagon. Pappy nickered to the horses and turned toward home, humming the tune of Amazing Grace. Jobeth felt it was strange that she would remember that evening. Did Pappy know that he would not be around for her when she needed his advice the most? Was Pauli never to understand that night because he would never need to? Jobeth watched the dying embers of the sun in the horizon. Night, with all its darkness, would come very quickly. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there,” Jobeth said to herself, “But I am in a hurry Pappy, I am in a really big hurry.” She clutched Shawna’s hand and began to walk toward the sun, singing Amazing Grace softly to herself.
Night quickly rolled in, casting eerie shadows on the browning grass of fall. Shawna trembled from the chilling breeze and from the scary shapes hovering in front of them. She squeezed Jobeth’s hand tighter and looked up at her face. Was she scared also? Noticing the large, frightened eyes searching her own, Jobeth smiled uneasily at the spooked child.
They will know we are missing now , Jobeth thought. I wonder how far we have gone. I wonder if it is far enough? She looked down at the exhausted urchin. She looked as though she would fall asleep standing up. They had not even eaten supper yet. The poor child was probably starving.
Jobeth felt ashamed again.She was going to have to start thinking about her young charge. As much as Shawna wanted Jobeth to believe she was capable of watching out for herself, she was still only five years old. “We won’t travel tonight,” Jobeth said aloud with regret. “We need all the rest we can get so that we can travel farther during the day.” She wondered just where they would sleep for the evening. It all seemed so simple when she decided to leave. Only the drive to escape Father James had occupied her thoughts. Now she was dragging a five-year-old child into her mess. Jobeth tried to read Shawna’s huge eyes. What lurked behind those hollow dark sockets? She shivered unconsciously. “Jobeth?” Shawna whispered apprehensively. “Are we’s going to sleep outside in the night?” “Of course, Shawna. Where else would we sleep?” Jobeth looked around at her surroundings. Shadows jumped like phantoms. Trees hung their leaved branches low to the chilled ground, reaching for fallen comrades. It was very frightening and Jobeth shuddered, clutching her sweater around her for warmth. She forced a brave smile for Shawna’s sake. “I guess we could look for some sort of shelter.” Jobeth did not want to admit it to herself, but she too was exhausted. “Just in case it rains or something.” Shawna sighed with relief. The night air was chilly, but there was no sign of rain. Jobeth clasped Shawna’s small, pale hand in hers and together they searched for a place to sleep. It did not take long before they found a small, shallow cave beside a narrow pond. They could both smell the sweet, crisp air emanating from the water and Jobeth smiled, knowing that a swim was a good prospect for the morning. “I know it looks spooky,” She said, coming out of the mouth of the cave after searching it first. She did not want to interrupt any four-legged guests who might already be occupying the establishment. “But at least it is a roof over our heads and we are out of the open.” She persuaded Shawna into the dark cave with a stern hand on her hesitant bony back. “I wish we could see better.” Shawna said, walking beside Jobeth into the cave.Jobeth placed her arm around her companion’s thin shoulders. “We will sleep together for warmth. Here, sit down.” Gently she pressed Shawna down into the farthest corner of the cave. It was not a very large cave: just big enough for the two of them. “Use your sack for a pillow,” suggested Jobeth as she squatted down beside the child. Both sacks were quickly arranged as pillows. Shawna slowly lay down. She suddenly felt very tired and the foreign noises outside quickly faded as Jobeth deposited her exhausted form down beside her, cuddling up against her back. Heads resting on their sacks of food, Jobeth looked at Shawna, who was already breathing in deep rhythmic breaths. For the first time, Jobeth thought that Shawna’s pale face looked peaceful. Thinking of the events that had transpired during the day caused overwhelming emotions of doom and despair to crawl up Jobeth’s spine. The images of the morning began to fight their way to the surface of her conscience. Suddenly her chest felt as if a large boulder rested on top of it, crushing the very breath out of her. She sat up, looking around, breathing heavily and trying to catch her breath. Darkness enveloped her, making her heart bang against her scrawny rib cage. “No,” she yelped. Shawna frowned, stirring in her sleep. Jobeth clutched her arms around herself and shivered. “I will not. I cannot think about it ever again. I am free now.” Absently, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “I have more important things to worry about now.” She glanced at Shawna, who was breathing evenly again. She took a deep breath and the heaviness on her chest began to slowly disappear. She blew air out of her lungs, releasing all the pent-up emotions. “I have to be strong. There is Shawna to worry about now.” She lay back down beside the slumbering child and snuggled up close to her small, warm body. Jobeth ached all over and wondered if she would ever feel normal again. “So tired,” Jobeth mumbled. Overcome with exhaustion, her eyes grew heavy and within minutes she was asleep.
She had been dreaming of Father James, naked, coming to her. Then suddenly she was on the train, walking down the aisle to meet her parents. The baby was crying. She turned to look and noticed everyone looking at her with disgust. When she came to her parents’ seats, they glanced at her with abhorrence.
“Mama, Pappy? What? What have I done?” Jobeth was confused. Why was everyone looking at her so strangely? “How could you, Jobeth?” Mama said turning away repulsed. The back of her head was caked with blood.“How could you do this to your mother and me?” Pappy glared “Have you no shame?” He went to place his arm on his wife’s shoulder to console her, but his arm was only a mangled stump. “But Pappy…” Jobeth looked around, confused. The woman with the screaming baby avoided her eyes, shielding her crying infant from her. Jobeth felt a menacing breeze, and went to wrap her sweater around herself. There was no sweater. She had no clothes on at all. She was standing in the aisle naked. Red fingerprints covered her breasts and belly, descending down low to her hidden mound. They became redder and redder by the moment. She could hear an evil laugh coming up the aisle behind her. The laugh felt hot against her bareback. It was him. He was back again. “Jobeth, you whore. You’re mine forever. Can’t you see it? My mark is all over you.” “No!” Jobeth opened her eyes to darkness--a darkness that seemed to swallow her whole. She sat up frightened, not knowing where she was. For a moment she thought she must have died and gone to hell. Then she heard Shawna breathing beside her and remembered the events of the day. Carefully, Jobeth moved over Shawna’s sleeping form and stood to go outside. The wind nipped at her scantily clad body. It seemed angry at her, trying to blow Jobeth away for all she had done wrong in her life. She wrapped her sweater around her shoulders and gazed out across the dark trees. The wind whipped at her legs, causing goose bumps to rise. She felt a damp chill between her legs. She had not noticed the stinging sensation where the dampness was. She’d been too caught up in the surrounding darkness and the memories of her dream. She touched the wet spot on the ragged dress. Tears gripped her. Suffocating fear caused Jobeth to suddenly want to run away. Maybe if she ran, the nightmare would end. I am safe now. I am safe now. Jobeth heaved trying to control the shakiness in her knees and the beating of her heart. Could her heart take any more of this emotional turmoil? She began to remove her dress, repeating to herself that she was safe. Once her dress was off, she repeated the process over again until she was standing naked in the moonlight, clutching her urine-soaked clothing. Her head hung low as she gripped her clothing to her. She sniffed the air and savagely wiped her nose with her knuckles. “I am going to just rinse these,” she said lifting her face to the stars. Tears streamed down her face but she did not bother wiping them away. “I will never be frightened again. I will clean these clothes and no one will ever know what happened. Mama, Pappy, I will never disappoint you again. I know I am no longer the girl you have raised and I have disappointed you in the worst possible way. I did not want Father James to do what he did to me. I know I must have done something to cause him to fornicate with me. I just don’t know what. I will never entice a man to do it again. I promise. From this day forward I will be strong and never again think of how I lost my virtue.” Slowly Jobeth walked naked to the small pond. She crouched down and began to rinse her clothes by the shore.
The sun rose and shone in Jobeth’s eyes, causing her to squint and shield them with her hand. She sat up, confused as to where she was. She must have dozed off. She looked down at her thin, naked body. Her bony rib cage glared fiercely up at her. The brisk morning air caused her bruised nipples to stand erect. She winced with pain. Her whole body felt as though it had been trampled by a horse.
Embarrassed that she had fallen asleep on a rock naked, she jumped up and snatched the clothes she had carefully laid out to dry the night before. They were still damp. The sun warmed Jobeth’s bare back. She looked longingly at the stream and turned to the cave. There were no movements from within its dark mouth. Carefully, she put her damp clothes back on the rock. She glanced once again toward the cave and listened for Shawna. Nothing. She slipped into the cool stream, letting the water envelop her. She swam a few strokes toward the center, her beaten body relaxing in the icy water, which was refreshing her and making her feel reborn. Jobeth became entranced with the swim. She felt like she was being transported away from the world and the responsibilities thrust upon her. She sighed deeply and plunged under the water. Its healing powers encased her. Wrapped up in her indulgent swim, Jobeth did not notice Shawna stumble from the cave. Fuzzy from sleep and, if possible, paler than ever before, the poor girl looked as though she might faint. Jobeth surfaced and reluctantly started swimming toward the shore. She would have to wake Shawna and start on their way soon. Just because they had not been caught yet did not mean they were out of danger. People could still be looking for them and with the seed of freedom now planted in Jobeth, she would rather die than return to the prison she had just escaped. She stood up, placing her foot solidly on the sand bed beneath her. Kneading water out of her eyes she turned to face the cave. Shawna was frantic searching for her. “Shawna!” Jobeth called out, an arm protectively covering her bosom. Shawna whirled around. Jobeth looked like an angel, submerged to her waist in water, arms modestly covering her front. Tears flowed from Shawna’s eyes but when she saw Jobeth, relief flooded her completely. “What on earth is wrong?” Jobeth questioned. Embarrassed, she quickly came out of the water and hastily dressed. “I thought yah left me.” Shawna said bowing her head. She knew Jobeth was flustered because she had caught her swimming naked. Shawna couldn’t help noticing the teeth marks on Jobeth’s breasts and the fingerprints covering every inch of her body. She didn’t need to guessed what had happened to Jobeth. She’d seen it too many times before. She felt sorry for her -- but at least she was alive. The ordeal had not killed her, as it had Donna. Beads of water dripped down Jobeth’s face. Her dress, which had finally dried thanks to the sun, clung to her wet body. Jobeth wondered again if color ever entered Shawna’s face. She smiled weakly at the ghostly child and grabbed for her hand. Shawna placed her waxen palm meekly in Jobeth’s and gazed up with anguish into the older girl’s face. No child should ever have that look, thought Jobeth. No child should be this frightened. “We are together now. From now on it’s you and I. You do not have to worry about me leaving you behind. I won’t do that to you, Shawna, you must believe me. Can you stand being with me all the time?” Jobeth maintained her composure, trying to sound strong. Shawna beamed, “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”