Light to the Hills: A Novel (7)

“It don’t matter if you’re down to eating possum tail, it does a mama’s heart good to see her children.” Rai rested a hand over her heart. “My own mama and daddy loved it when we could all get together. Hard times scattered us kids all over creation, and they’ve since passed on. Sure do wish we could have got together more’n we did.”

“Yes ma’am, close families can be a balm, that’s certain.” Amanda sighed, staring at her hands for a beat too long before she drew a quick breath and spoke, her voice bright. “Long story short, I picked up this route with the WPA, and it brought me to you kind folks this evening.”

Finn cleared his throat—he’d developed a raspy cough recently—and Rai cut a sharp glance at her son. If he and Harley were going to get any rest, supper needed finishing. “Slice of pie, Finn? Harley?” Their plates had long since been scraped clean.

Sass hopped up to help, leaving the greasy-faced Hiccup to Fern’s minding. “I already put the tea on to boil, Mama. Reckon it’s ready to pour.” To her daddy, she said, “Found some sassafras this afternoon, so we get both pie and tea to go with it.”

When Rai poured Finn’s, she added an extra bit from a pot she had steeping on the stove top. “Here’s a dose of horehound right quick for that cough while I’m at it.”

“Angel of mercy.” Finn swigged a mouthful of tea. “And Sass, ain’t you Miss Handy-Dandy?” he teased. “Did you find any sang while’s you was gally-vantin’ all over the mountain?”

Rai and Sass placed thick slices of pie before the boys and Miz Amanda. Fern took hers by the hearth and shared bites with Hiccup, who rubbed her eyes with sticky fists, smearing her face with bits of apple.

“Sure did. Enough to trade for birthday candy if you can stop by the mine store.” Sass retrieved her sack from where she’d hung it near the doorway, and she presented it to Finn. “Maybe that pie greased your wheel?”

He took it from her and hefted it up and down. “I declare you might’a found enough for a piece or two, Sassy.” Finn paused and scraped the plate clean with a finger. “This right here is a fine piece of pie, Miz Rye.” He fixed a steady gaze on the book woman as if to emphasize the compliment.

Rai thought she detected a sudden dip in Finn’s voice, a deeper timbre. Must be the cough trying to take hold. Good thing she was keeping on him with that horehound. Harley licked a finger and tapped up the remainder of crumbs on his plate before pushing it back. “That’s so. We thank you for sharing it with us. You’ll want to be careful riding out alone now, the way folks are drifting in and out nowadays, don’t hurt to keep your wits.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you for the meal, Miz MacInteer,” Amanda said as she rose from her chair. “I know you’ve more work coming. I’ll get out of y’all’s hair, but I did want you to pick something from the pack.”

“Cricket, run out and untether Miz Rye’s mule,” Rai directed.

“Yes’m,” he chirped. He jumped up and skipped out the door, taking the steps two at a time. His given name was Emmett, but by the time he was two, Cricket seemed to suit him better.

Harley rubbed his beard. “The pie’s aplenty, Miz Rye. We won’t be needing nothing else now.”

“No, no. This is a loan,” she said. She rummaged in the saddlebags and laid out a few newspapers and books on the table. “It’s the library program, the reason for my visit out this way. Y’all choose something, and next time I’m through here, in two weeks’ time, I’ll trade it for something different.”

“I done told you we don’t take no loans.” Rai narrowed her eyes.

“No cost, truly. These are hard times for the whole country, with the mining areas ’specially hard hit, but that’s no news to you. FDR wants to send books and news to them that can’t get to it easy.”

“Does he now?” asked Harley. He shook his head and pointed to the spread on the table. “These books he’s sending have greenbacks sewn to the pages? That’d be a far sight more helpful if he’s going to all the trouble.” He shook his head and chuckled low in his throat. “Well, I reckon you girls can pick something to look at if you think you’ll have time between your chores.”

Amanda picked up each of her offerings in turn. “There’s newspapers only about two weeks old. A Publishers Weekly from May and June.” She stopped to consider, rifling through to find something with pictures that told the story along with the words. What good were words if they didn’t speak to you? “How about this one?” She picked up a worn copy of a thin book with rich illustrations. On the front was a young boy and a toy bunny. “It’s called The Velveteen Rabbit. I think you’ll like the story.”

Amanda held it out to Fern, who reached out a thin hand to take it, mouthing a soft thank you with her eyes on the floor. She smoothed her hand over its cover.

“You gone be all right getting back this evening?” Finn asked.

“I’ll be fine. My mule’s steady and knows the way home, and now the rain’s stopped, we’ll make good time. Prob’ly get back not too much after dark.”

“You best get started, then.” Harley lit the bowl of his pipe and pulled on the stem, small clouds of blue smoke escaping his lips. He lifted a hand in a wave and shuffled to the back corner of the cabin, toward the corded bed with its simple tick mattress filled with rye and feathers.