Light to the Hills: A Novel (70)

Rai stood and brushed the dirt from her dress where she’d been kneeling. “Reckon that’s about the end of it,” she said. “Got the last of the peas put in the ground just in time.” She craned her neck up at the sky. “That breeze is picking up. Come on inside for some tea, Amanda, and show us what you brought. This little feller stow away in your knapsack?”

Amanda laughed. “This is my Miles. He finally wore me down enough to bring him along.”

“Mighty pleased to meet you, Miles,” said Rai. “You got a fine mama there.” Miles nodded and flashed her a shy smile.

They washed on the porch. Harley and Finn went to the barn while the others disappeared indoors, eager for Amanda to reveal what she carried in her saddlebags this time. Sass stacked up their previous picks on the table so that they could trade them out for new ones. Rai sprinkled a handful of flour onto the table and dumped a bowl of dough into the middle of it. She rubbed some flour into her hands and then plunged her fists into the dough, beating and folding it back and forth to work the yeast through. Her strong forearms were a blur as she thumped and punched.

“Before I forget, Rai, Maybelle Lincoln says to tell you that goulash recipe you put in the scrapbook was the best thing she’s had in a coon’s age.”

“’Tween you and me, Maybelle Lincoln ain’t exactly what you’d call handy in the kitchen,” Rai replied, but as she turned to the stove to heat the kettle, she couldn’t hide the smile spreading across her face. “I’ll add another ’un that’s better if you got space for it.”

“Of course. We can always add pages. But it’s not just Maybelle says that. Mooney said to tell you the same, and she’s about as good as they come.”

“Miz Rye, do you have any books on airplanes?” asked Cricket. “Or aviation?” He pronounced the last word carefully, proud to show he knew it.

“Hmm.” Amanda dug in her pack. “It must be your lucky day, Cricket. I just picked up these two from the school last week. Jingleman Jack, Aviator and The Boys’ Book of Aeroplanes. We don’t usually find two on the same subject like that, but we just sorted through a box of new donations that came in from Boston.”

Cricket’s eyes grew round as moonflowers, and his feet danced excitedly on the floor. “Golly! Could I borry them both, do you think? I’ll read every word.”

Amanda laughed and laid them both on the table. “I’d be happy for you to read them. I don’t know of anyone else who’d be that excited about planes.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” Cricket stammered. He grabbed the two slim volumes and dashed out the door.

“He’s heading for his favorite spot up the crook of that hemlock by the side of the barn,” Rai told Amanda. “First drop of rain and you hightail it back in here with those!” she called after him. She finally quit working the dough and wiped her brow with her sleeve, leaving a smudge of flour on her face. “He’s gone on and on about flying since he read about that airship in the paper. Prob’ly would never have taken a notice if it weren’t for him reading everything in sight. Guess we have you to thank for that. Maybe when times get a bit better, that reading will help him do all right for himself.” Her hands formed the dough into a smooth ball, and she plunked it back into its wooden bowl, covering it with a damp scrap of flour sack before washing and rinsing her hands in a bucket perched by the stove.

“They picked it up fast; that means they already had some smarts,” Amanda said. “Fern, I found a sewing magazine with patterns in it. Maybe you want to add to your rabbits? You know, you’re so fine with a needle, if you had enough different kinds, you could ask at the stores ’round the free town. Maybe they’d be willing to sell some for you?”

“Really?”

“I can ask around for you when I do my route if you like,” Amanda offered.

“Would you? Wouldn’t that beat all? Putting wares in a’ actual store?” Fern was already flipping through the magazine. “I could do that one easy,” she whispered. “Or that. I’m heading out by the corncrib where it’s lighter and look this over right quick. Thank you, Miz Rye!”

“Sass? How about you? Interested in some more stories?”

Sass slumped in the rocker, her hand on her belly. She shrugged. “Whatever you have is fine,” she said. Amanda and Rai exchanged a look.

“I’ve given her a dose of ratsbane and some Sweet Annie tea. She ain’t been right since yesterday.” Rai dried her hands on her apron.

“I’m just tired is all, Mama.”

Rai laid the back of her hand on Sass’s forehead. “No fever.” She shook her head. “I don’t like to see you so puny. It ain’t like you.” She walked over to the rumpled bed in the corner. “’Scuse the mess, Amanda. We were so keen on getting in the garden before the rain hit that I ain’t had time to tidy up much. Sass, come lie down while I visit with Miz Rye if you feel so poorly.”

When she flapped the quilt to straighten the bedding, she revealed a dark spot on the sheet and her mouth fell open. “Oh, Sassy.”

Sass’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Rai crossed the room and knelt on the planked floor in front of the rocker, holding on to Sass’s knees. “Of course not. It’s not your fault. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, for certain. Or sorry for, silly. I should’ve known. My goodness, I’ve been so absentminded lately with Finn . . .” Rai trailed off.