Rae Lynn didn’t tell her the sweet aroma mingled with that other odor that seemed very real to her. She didn’t understand why it lingered so strong in her mind. The box held on to those who’d been there before her, the bits and pieces of them, their distress, their frantic will to live. She understood it, had felt it too. She was sure she’d left some part of herself there as well. Not just the blood from in between her legs, or the sweat that had poured off of her. Not just them physical things. Some other part of her had broke off and got left behind, even as she was lifted from out of it, saved by a man named Del Reese. This was punishment for what she’d done.
The fifth morning, Cornelia came in smiling, ready to start the day, but this time, she had him with her. Rae Lynn immediately pulled the sheet to her chin and stared toward the foot of the bed.
He said, “Morning.”
She felt at a disadvantage, still in bed and all. She dipped her head in greeting, barely.
He said, “I come up with this idea. Won’t take but a second.”
He went to work, fashioning a pull cord using some twine. He tied it first to her bedpost, and with him being so close made her lean the other way. He dropped the ball of twine out the window and went out. Rae Lynn next saw him holding the twine spool on his thumb letting it run out as he walked toward the commissary, where he set it on the window, a distance of about fifty feet. She leaned forward to watch, and in a few seconds he was inside the commissary and at the window, picking it up. He waved, and she sat back quick. She watched the string move, tighten a bit, and a minute later, Cornelia came into the room smiling.
She said, “He looped the other end over a hook and it’s got a bell hung off it. I’m going back over there, and when I wave to you out the window yonder, you pull on your end here.”
Rae Lynn said, “Okay.”
When Cornelia was at the window of the commissary waving like Del Reese had done, Rae Lynn reached up and gave the string a light tug. In the quiet of the morning, she could hear a faint tinny ding, ding. She watched Cornelia hurry back across the yard, and Otis stomping along right after her. Rae Lynn thought, Uh-oh.
Cornelia rushed into the room and said, “It worked perfect.”
Otis came barreling in seconds later.
He said, “What the hell’s that for?”
He pointed at the twine looped around the bedpost.
She said, “It’s in case she needs me.”
Otis said, “Woman. Is you crazy? You can’t be at her beck and call, answering to a damn bell while you’re working. You got to get your priorities straight.”
“Otis honey, it’s only if something urgent comes up.”
“Like what?”
Cornelia glanced at Rae Lynn, her face going pink.
“Woman things, Otis.”
“Aw, hell. I ain’t needin’ to hear about that.”
He went back out, but not before yelling at them. “Ain’t nothing more urgent than her getting out of bed and earning her keep. I’m keeping tabs on what she’s costing me.”
“She ain’t hardly had a chance to yet!”
“I don’t wanna hear no back talk!”
“Yes, honey.”
“She better get right, or she can get out.”
“Yes, honey.”
He went out, slamming the door behind him. Cornelia faced Rae Lynn, who sat in the bed looking like a child about to cry, rubbing on the little nub of finger, over and over. Cornelia sat with her and leaned forward, patting her hand.
“Aw, now, shug. Don’t you let him upset you. His bark’s always been worser’n his bite. He got it from his own daddy, who acted like a tetchy old mule most days.”
Rae Lynn reached out and lightly touched Cornelia’s arm, where three round, puckered scars were visible.
“That bite a his seems right ferocious to me.”
Cornelia in turn stared at Rae Lynn’s hand on her arm. She touched the stub where her finger was missing.
“What happened here?”
Rae Lynn pulled her hand away. Tucked it under the sheet.
“It was an accident. Happened years ago.”
Cornelia sighed and said, “It don’t matter nohow. They’s only the marks of life, showing what we been through.” She leaned back to study Rae Lynn, tipping her head to the left. “And, here I was thinking you was a man! After I brung you the pie, I thought, he sure is sweet looking compared to most.”
Rae Lynn gave her a little smile. “Well, I should’ve known it won’t the smartest thing to do, maybe. They’ll probably want me to leave here, and soon.”
“We ain’t gonna worry about that right now. Peewee’s a reasonable man. Now, Crow? He’s the one to worry over. Thinks he’s running things.”
Rae Lynn flinched at the thought of Crow, of facing him again. Maybe he’d be different, but she somehow doubted it.
She said, “Peewee might say it’s my own fault. You know, lying to him and all.”
Cornelia turned a sage eye to her and said, “I bet you had your reasons. We always do what we have to do, what’s necessary, don’t we?”
Women folk, is who Cornelia meant. They were most often the ones to bend, sometimes until they broke. Or got broken. She believed with all her heart in that moment, she and Cornelia would get along just fine. Rae Lynn felt an instant kinship. She ought to tell her who she was at least. She was real understanding. Seemed real trustworthy, and already a friend.
Rae Lynn said, “My name?”
Cornelia smiled and said, “What, don’t tell me. It ain’t Rae Cobb? ”
Rae Lynn shifted in the bed. “Well, it is, but it’s actually Rae Lynn. Rae Lynn Cobb.”
Cornelia smiled big. “Ain’t that something,” she said.
“Call me Rae Lynn.”
“Well, all right.”
She got up and went to stand by the door. “Now you need anything, you use the pull cord. I’ll be back at dinnertime to fix you something to eat.”
“Okay.”
They established a rhythm over the next few days and Cornelia didn’t pry her with any more questions. Bit by bit, Rae Lynn was up and moving about, Cornelia’s nightgown hanging off her and reaching to her toes. The other woman was a bit taller and a few pounds heavier. She went from the bed to the chair and back to the bed for a while, until one day, she sat in the chair by the window for most of a morning watching the comings and goings of the camp. She was taking care of herself once again and felt almost normal. She wished she had her clothes, but couldn’t seem to find them anywhere. She went and checked around to the backside of the house, where she found the laundry pan and a washboard. A couple of Otis’s shirts hung drying on a line; the dress Cornelia had made from the material Otis burned a hole in, it hung there too. She wanted to take it and put it on, so she’d be decent, except it seemed rude to assume such was all right. Cornelia might think it had to do with the fact she’d paid for it, so she stayed in the gown for now.
In the late afternoon Cornelia came in from the commissary and found her in the kitchen, apron tied around her waist over the nightgown, cooking supper. Cornelia always came home a bit early to cook while Otis stayed at the commissary finishing up. She stood in the doorway, arms filled with a sack of flour, sugar, and beans for the pantry.
Surprised, she said, “My, oh my. Look at this. You ain’t supposed to be doing such, you ain’t well enough!”
Rae Lynn carried a platter full of fried cured ham over to the table and set it down. She wiped off her forehead and stood by the set table with her hands on her hips.
She said, “I’m feeling fine.”
Cornelia said, “I declare. You done fried ham, made rice and red-eye gravy, and field peas. Look at them biscuits, high and fluffy as a cloud. This sure looks mighty fine.”
Rae Lynn said, “I was about to go stir-crazy laying around. It feels good to cook again. I used to . . .”
She stopped and put a hand to her mouth. All of a sudden she felt the heavy sadness come over her again as she remembered her and Warren’s suppers together. She’d not allowed herself the luxury of those memories. Cornelia watched Rae Lynn, a question on her face.
She said, “Used to . . . what?”
Rae Lynn swallowed hard. “Cook.”
Cornelia’s focus on her sharpened. “You all right? You look upset. Maybe you done too much.”
“It’s . . . I was just thinking about how much I liked to cook for someone other than myself.”
“Well, I can see you’re a mighty fine one too.”
“Cornelia?”
Cornelia had gone over to the table with the food, looking as pleased as could be. “Um-hmm?”