before we got to those awful gates.”
“You did. Road winds all the way ’round Heartache Mountain goin’ through town. This morning, you just took the shortcut.”
Jane had been surprised when she’d reached the notch in the mountain and looked down the other side to see the tin roof of Annie Glide’s cabin. At first she hadn’t recognized it, but then she’d spotted the colorful wind sock flying at the corner of the porch. Even though it had been nearly two weeks since they’d met, Annie had greeted her as if she’d been expected.
“You know how to make corn bread, Janie Bonner?”
“I’ve made it a few times.”
“It’s no good lest you fold in a little buttermilk.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Before I took so sick, I used to make my own apple butter. Nothin’ as good as cold apple butter on warm corn bread. You got to find you real soft apples when you make it, and watch yourself peelin’ ’em ’cause ain’t nobody on earth likes to bite into a big tough ol’ piece of peel when they’re expectin’ good smooth apple butter.”
“If I ever make any, I’ll be careful.”
Annie had been doing this ever since Jane had arrived, tossing out recipes and bits of folk wisdom: ginger tea for colds, nine sips of water for hiccups, beets to be planted on the twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, or twenty-eighth of March, but no later or they’d be puny.
Despite the improbability of her ever using any of this information, she’d found herself taking it all in. Annie’s advice represented the continuity between one generation and the next. Roots went deep in these mountains, and as someone who had always felt so very rootless, each tidbit seemed like a solid link with a family that had a history and traditions, everything she craved.
“…and if you’re gonna make you some dumplin’s, put a egg in that dough and a pinch of sage.” She started to cough, and Jane regarded her with concern. When she recovered, she waved her hand displaying fingernails painted a bright cherry red. “Listen to me goin’ on. It’s a wonder you haven’t just said,‘Annie, shut your yap; you done wore out my ears.’ ”
“I love listening to you.”
“You’re a good girl, Janie Bonner. I’m surprised Calvin married you.”
Jane laughed. Annie Glide was the most unexpected person. The only one of her grandparents Jane had ever known had been her father’s self-centered and narrow-minded mother.
“I miss my garden. Had that worthless Joey Neeson plow for me a couple weeks ago, even though it goes against my grain to have strangers ’round here. Calvin, he’s always sending strangers up here to fix things, but I won’t have it. Don’t even like family nibbin’ in my business, let alone strangers.” She shook her head. “I was hopin’ I’d be strong enough to get my garden put in this spring, but I was foolin’ myself. Ethan said he’d come by to help me, but that poor boy has so much work with his church, I didn’t have the heart to do nothin’ but tell him weren’t no sissy boy plantin’ my garden.” She gave Jane a sideways glance from her crafty blue eyes. “Sure am gonna miss my garden, but I won’t have strangers plantin’ for me.”
Jane saw right through the old woman’s wiles, but it didn’t occur to her to be annoyed. Instead, she felt curiously flattered. “I’ll be happy to help you if you show me what to do.”
Annie pressed her hand to her chest. “You’d do that for me?”
Jane laughed at her feigned amazement. “I’ll enjoy it. I’ve never had a garden.”
“Well, now, that’s just fine. You make Calvin bring you over here first thing tomorrow, and we’ll get those ’taters in right away. It’s real late-I like to do it at the end of February, during the dark of the moon-but they still might turn out if we get ’em in right away. Then we plant onions, and after that some beets.”
“It sounds great.” She suspected the old woman wasn’t eating as well as she should, and she stood. “Why don’t I fix us a little lunch? I’m getting hungry.”
“Now that’s a real good idea. Amber Lynn’s back from her trip, and she done brung over some of her bean soup yesterday. You can heat that up. ’Course she don’t make it like I taught her, but, then, that’s Amber Lynn for you.”
So Cal’s parents had returned. As she headed to the kitchen, she wondered how he was explaining not bringing her to meet them.
Jane served their soup in one china bowl and one plastic. She accompanied it with squares of corn bread from a pan on the counter. As they ate at the kitchen table, she couldn’t remember enjoying a meal more. After two weeks of isolation, it was wonderful just being around another person, especially one who did more than bark out orders and glare at her.
She cleaned up the dishes and was bringing a mug of tea to Annie in the living room when she noticed three diplomas among the clutter of paintings, ceramic ballerinas, and wall clocks hanging next to the doorway.
“Those belong to my grandsons,” Annie said, “but they give ’em to me. They knowed it always bothered me the fact I had to quit school after sixth grade, so each of’em give me their college diplomas the same day they graduated. That there’s Calvin’s hangin’ at the top.”
Jane fetched her glasses from the kitchen table and gazed at the top diploma. It was from the University of Michigan, and it stated that Calvin E. Bonner had received a Bachelor of Science degree… with highest distinction.
Jane’s hand flew to her throat. She whirled around. “Cal graduated
“That’s what they call it when a body’s real smart. I thought you, bein’ a professor, would of knowed that. My Calvin, he was always smart as a whip.”
“He-”She swallowed and fought to go on as a roaring sounded in her ears. “What did he get his degree in?”
“Now didn’t he tell you that? Lot of athletes, they take real easy classes, but my Calvin, he wasn’t like that. He got hisself a degree in biology. Always liked roamin’ in the woods, pickin’ up this ’n’ that.”
“Biology?”Jane felt as if she’d just taken a punch in the stomach.
Annie narrowed her eyes. “Strikes me strange you don’t know any of this, Janie Bonner.”
“I guess the subject never came up.” The room began to sway, and she felt as if she were going to faint. She turned awkwardly, sloshing hot tea over her hand, and stumbled back into the kitchen.
“Janie? Somethin’ wrong?”
She couldn’t speak. The handle broke off the mug as she dropped it into the sink. She pressed her fingers to her mouth and fought a rising tide of horror. How could she have been so stupid? Despite all her conniving, she’d brought about the very disaster she’d tried so hard to avoid, and now her child wasn’t going to be ordinary at all.
She clutched the edge of the sink as hard reality overcame her rosy daydreams. She’d known Cal had attended the University of Michigan, but she hadn’t believed he’d been serious about it. Didn’t athletes take the minimum number of courses to get by and then leave before they graduated? The fact that he’d majored in biology and graduated with honors from one of the most prestigious universities in the country had such brutal ramifications she could barely take them in.
Intelligence tended toward the mean. That fact screamed at her. The one quality she prized in him-his stupidity-was nothing more than an illusion, an illusion he had deliberately perpetuated. By not seeing through it, she’d condemned her child to the same life of isolation and loneliness she’d lived herself.
Panic clawed at her. Her precious child was going to be a freak, just like her.
She couldn’t let that happen. She’d die before she’d permit her child to suffer as she’d suffered. She’d move away! She’d take the baby to Africa, some remote and primitive part of the continent. She’d educate the child herself so that her precious little one would never know the cruelty of other children.
Her eyes stung with tears. What had she done? How could God have let something so cruel happen?
Annie’s voice penetrated her misery. “That’ll be Calvin now. I told you he’d come after you.”
She heard the slam of a car door, the pounding of footsteps on the front porch.
“
Jane charged into the living room. “You
He stalked forward, his face twisted. “Lady, you’ve got some
