“Ten, ma’am. Mostly eleven.”
Her name goes in my logbook, and I take the lid off the candy jar. I beckon for Lucy to come forward. “I asked three questions, and you gave three answers, so you get three pieces of candy.” I don’t rush her. She bites her thumbnail, deliberating. She picks a Tootsie Roll, a Mary Jane, and a red sucker, then sits down. She counted to three on her own.
“Lucy Dillard, ten years old, almost eleven, I’m Miss Shaw. Welcome to school.”
On that first day I meet Lucy, and her two younger sisters, Weeza and Pearl. They wear dresses made of feed sacks. Their cousins, Grady and Petey Snow, in bib overalls, have matching haircuts hacked and shaved and a sprinkle of scabs on their scalps.
I get information and the children get candy. Lunch is another apple, and in the afternoon we go out in the sunshine and sit on a quilt for our lessons.
Near the end of the school day, curious Preacher Perkins arrives as I thought he might. I’m surprised at how nervous I am at him watching me with the children, and I’m a bit ashamed when I sit up straighter and try to impress him. He stands off to the side and leans against a tree, arms folded.
Weeza Dillard, who just found her tiny voice, tells me ways to make poke sallet tasty, and she has my full attention. I think she says, “You soak them leaves in salt water, and you boil em, and you add a piece of pork fat if you got any, and you fry the stalks like okra. You can pickle em, too.” She ends with a flourish, “But them berries’ll kill you.”
“Thank you, Weeza. I look forward to my first taste of poke sallet. And thank you for coming. See you tomorrow.” I add as they disperse, “And bring your friends!”
I turn my attention to Eli Perkins. His pin-striped suit is worn to a shine and is sloppy in the sleeves. The trouser cuffs puddle over his scuffed shoes. One lace is tied together where it broke. To look at him, you would not think smart and purposeful, yet he is that and more.
“You didn’t have a full house, but it’s a good start, don’t you think? That little Weeza’s a marvel. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say so much.”
I fold the quilt over my arm and head back inside. He follows.
“It was a good first day,” I admit. I put the storybook back on the shelf, proud he saw the children answering questions and feeling at ease. “I want them to see school isn’t all work and no joy.” I erase the blackboard, pick up the jar of penny candy, and hold it out. Eli chooses a caramel, my favorite, and we walk out together. The candy jar gets locked in the car trunk along with the quilt, and I turn to face the preacher, who looks up at me and grins.
“Miss Shaw. Miss Shaw. Miss Shaw.” He shakes his head.
This is awkward, but he’s smiling so that’s a good sign.
“Yes?”
He leans toward me, up on his toes. “Thank you.”
Kate Shaw
The Rusty Nickel, which is Open Somtime, is open today.
At lunchtime, I leave school with students in tow, cross the clearing, and enter to meet the proprietor, Mooney. I hope the children will open social doors for me that might be closed because I’m the outsider who hasn’t paid her dues yet. Mooney is another short man, but as wide around as he is high. He chews on a licorice stick that stains his lips black. Wild hairs shoot out of his ears, eyebrows, and bulbous nose and give him a look of perpetual surprise.
“Are you Mr. Mooney?” I ask.
His laugh rolls up and out and shakes his belly. “Name’s Mooney. Only the po-lice call me Mister Mooney. You that teacher lady. Got you a bunch of scallywags with you today, I see.” He reaches his hand across the scarred counter and takes mine with limp, pudgy fingers. He studies me while the children study the shelves in the dim light. A couple of them pull pieces of penny candy from their pockets and unwrap them slowly. Makes me wonder if they’re taunting Mooney with their good bounty that didn’t cost precious pennies.
“Heard you was a big ’un. And up in years. Won’t exaggerating, was they?”
Mooney scrutinizes me but not in a mean way, and I smile, for my smile is the loveliest thing about me.
“Good to meet you, Mooney. I’m Kate Shaw. Preacher Perkins said you’re the man I need to know because you have all the answers. When are you open?”
“Well, when the door is unlocked, I’m open.” He chuckles at his direct answer. “Otherwise, it depends on the day. And what somebody needs. Things open here pretty regular cept when the road’s closed, or it rains a lot, or snows, or it’s time to hunt, or my knee’s gone out. You need something, talk to me. I get it when I can. Always do.”
“I’d like to order a bag of dog food, please.”
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For the rest of the week, more children come to school and find apples on their desks. Penny candy is just reward for answers. Potatoes in their jackets bake in the coals of the woodstove. Word spreads that school isn’t all bad and bellies don’t stay empty. I keep a list of mountain words I struggle with and consult my book when I get home. Pearl said, “It’s startin to get arish,” and that means it’s getting chilly. Petey Snow said, “I brung in a cathead for lunch,” and that’s a large biscuit. The most helpful phrase—Was you born in a barn?—is thrown at anyone who forgets to shut the door. My initial expectation remains simple: pique their curiosity. Once joy is instilled, we can roll up our sleeves and go to work.
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September 11
My dear Rachel—
I had a run-in with a dangerous man today—Roy Tupkin, Sadie Blue’s husband. I had just left the Rusty Nickel across from school when Roy staggered out into the clearing, drunk, and locked me in his hard gaze. He’s a leather strip of a man with a cocky swagger, and insecure as all cocky men are. He stared at me from beneath the brim of his hat and shouted unoriginal obscenities—“Hey, bitch cow, you even a woman in that big body of yours? Got any titties under that man shirt?”
Mooney, the proprietor, called out to Roy not to make trouble. Said he’d call the sheriff if he did. Roy took three long steps toward me, threw his arms up in the air, and shouted “Boo!” I stood my ground. I knew he was only a bully, plus I had the man by three inches and thirty pounds. He tipped his hat, smiled with dead eyes, and walked off into the woods. I’m truly afraid for the girl Sadie Blue and her unborn child.
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