Final Chapter

                         Final Chapter

Lottie became ill and sent Grover and me to her sister, Nellie’s, house with the weekly laundry. She lived about four miles up a dusty road. We carried the soiled clothes in a wash-tub, Grover on one side, me on the other.

When the laundry was washed and dried, we began our trip home. We passed the time singing songs and making bird calls as we carried our load. We were about a mile and a half from home when all of a sudden we stopped in our tracks. Spread out neatly in the middle of the road was a pair of bloomers.

Now these were not just any pair of bloomers, but hand-made from a dark grey-wine outing flannel. Long legs to the knee with rubber in the legs were stretched out in the dust -- they were Lottie’s!

Grover and I had no idea how they got out of the wash-tub, had no idea who had stretched them neatly across the road … we did know we would never tell Lottie!

                             *

When Grover and I worked, we worked like the adults … long and hard hours, long and hard days. When we played we put as much into it as we did when working.

One of our favorite times was when the spring rains would come. As large rain drops cascaded down in straight sheets, we would quickly take off our clothes. Running buck-naked under the eaves, Grover would be on one side of the house, me on the other. Our innocent laughter and joyous squeals muted by the steady fall of the rain filled the little holler as the cool water caressed our naked bodies. Grover and I held a strong trust of one another, neither daring to steal a peek.

There were times when all the work was caught up on the farm, that Eph and Lottie would take us to White River for a picnic. I would stand at the edge of the river bank and watch Grover and Eph swimming. I busied myself catching minnows, tadpoles and frogs as I couldn’t swim too well.

Lottie was busy laying out our meal. She had brought home-canned sausage, fried potatoes with green onions, fresh baked bread and fried chicken. The day never seemed to be long enough; we always had such a good time.

I remember one week-end several people from the neighboring farms got together on the creek bank for an afternoon of making ice cream. Huge blocks of ice were hauled by wagon from the Ice House in Rogers. Wash-tubs were filled with the ice after it had been broken into pieces. The ice cream mixture was poured into gallon buckets then set down onto the ice. Rock salt was poured around the buckets, over the ice to hold the cold. Turns were taken as the buckets, held by the bail were turned back and forth until the ice cream was firm.

Eating home-made ice cream is an experience. The rich golden vanilla was wonderful; however, fresh strawberry ice cream was my favorite. I would sit next to Grover on the grass and eat as quickly as I could. My throat would seem to close off as a rush of pain filled my head. Dropping my spoon, I would rub my forehead until the ache went away then dig once again into the pink goodness.

Grover and I ate so much, we got sick. Running down to the creek, we would seek the shelter of brush and vomit before returning to our places on the grass. It’s terribly hard being a lady when faced with a bowl of home-made ice cream.

                                 *

Fall meant school and our once-a-year new shoes. Lottie would stand Grover and me on a piece of paper and carefully mark around our foot with a lead pencil. Then, she wrote our name on the back of the paper. Our shoe measurements would then be sent to Sears and Roebuck, a catalog store.

It was an exciting day when the shoes arrived. They were always the right size and both pairs identical; high-top, lace-up boy’s shoes. I was so proud of mine.

                                 *

I was ten going on eleven; tanned and tough, when the school bell rang again that fall. It was a warm Indian autumn day, the trees turning from lush greens to shades of gold, burnt orange and red. Colorful leaves played in the gentle breeze which filled the holler before laying to rest on the ground. The mountain seemed to yawn as it began the long wait between summer and spring.

Wearing an old floppy hat that belonged to one of the boys in my class, I joined everyone on the school yard, noon recess, as I recall.

We were playing “Annie-Over." Half of the class would get on one side of the house, the other half on the other. The one with the ball would throw it over the top of the school house and holler out, “Annie-Over.”

If the ball didn’t go all the way over we would holler, “Pig Tail.” Then, we would throw it again. When the ball was caught, the person would race around to the other side and hit someone with it. (Usually the best player) and then he had to go over to their side till all the players were on one side.

I had the ball in my hand and was preparing to “Annie-Over” when I glanced toward the open meadow which surrounded our school yard. In the distance, trees to their backs were three grown-ups and a girl. They were walking across the meadow.

“Looks like Sissy,” I said to Grover, “But who are those other people?”

I stopped playing and for a moment stood staring at the oncoming group. Then, I began to slowly walk toward the strangers. By now, Grover was at my side. As the people got closer, I yelled out, “It is Sissy!” and began to run, the old floppy hat falling to the wayside. Grover picked up pace and ran, matching my stride.

My dear sweet Sissy was also running, her arms out-stretched, a smile on her face. We met in the middle of the meadow and began to hug one another. The wind seemed to stop, the birds took flight, and not even a leaf dared move as she spoke to me.

“Do you know who this is?” she asked.

I hesitated before answering. When I heard my voice it sounded like someone far off had spoken. Faintly, I said, “Is it Mama?”

“Yes! Yes!” Sissy cried out.

A voice from my memory, a ghost of my past said, “Yes, Edith, it’s Mama. I’ve come to take you home with me.”

“Me? What about Sissy?” I felt my faint heart rise up within my chest, “I won’t go if she can’t go.” I proclaimed.

Then the voice again spoke, “Both of my girls are coming with me.”

The other two strangers, Aunt Maude and Uncle Jack returned to the car at the end of the field. Mama, Sissy, Grover and I went to the school house. It wasn’t a problem leaving school. We gathered our things as Mama had a short discussion with the teacher. Grover joined us as we started our walk across the meadow toward the car.

The ride home to Lottie’s seemed to fly by as the car bounced over the ruts in the lane. When we arrived I stood between Grover and Sissy near the front yard gate while Mama spoke with Lottie and Eph.

Lottie became terribly upset, waving her arms around in the air, laying claim to me as her own true daughter. Grover began to cry as he begged me not to leave.

My heart was torn in two as I listened to the lady who had been so good to me, the young boy who had been a brother to me, and the woman who had given birth to me.

When Lottie realized my Mama wasn’t backing down, she slowly turned and walked inside the house. I stood, feeling like a stranger outside my home.

Lottie reappeared in the doorway her eyes now red-rimmed, tear tracks down her freshly scrubbed cheeks.  In her hand was a bundle which held all my worldly possessions. Eph stood stoic behind her, his arms crossed over his chest.

I slowly walked up the front porch steps and reached for my bundle. Lottie put her arms around me and held me close as she gently kissed my forehead, then cheeks.

“Be good, Edith. Remember Lottie.” She said.

“I will,” I promised. I kissed Eph good-bye and gave him a hug.

Grover had stepped aside and stood with his head lowered. His frame shook as he cried. I wanted to kiss him good-bye but he wouldn’t let me. He grabbed hold of my hand and held it tightly until we got to the car.

Inside the car, I sat in the back seat between Sissy and Mama. I turned in the seat and waved and called out, “Good-bye” to the three people who had been my family for so long. I waved until we were up the hill, and they were long out of sight.

Over the top of the hill and heading west, we were on our way. I snuggled close to Sissy and holding her hand began to smile ...

              Breathe deep, Dear Mountain,

              Beneath the winter stars, 
                             sleep.

              The dreams of a child now 
                           fulfilled,

              No longer need you weep.