The River Widow(64)
If Adah had been surprised by the ferocity with which Mabel doled out punishment and shame earlier in the day, she was shocked by what happened later that evening. After supper, Mabel announced that Daisy would spend the night out in the barn as penance for her actions at the picnic. Daisy sat like a deflated balloon, but Adah found it impossible to hold back her thoughts against such extreme punishment.
“No child should be forced to sleep outside by herself.”
Mabel’s face reflected a moment of regret, but she seemed to push it away as easily as swatting at a fly and retorted quickly, “She won’t be outside. She’ll be in the barn.”
“The barn at night is no place for a little girl.” All sorts of awful visions of Daisy later that night swirling in her head, Adah asked, “What if she gets scared? Has a nightmare? Gets cold?”
Mabel had to look away for a moment, but she soon turned back, determined as ever. “Then she’ll think twice before she bullies a friend again. No, sirree.”
This from a family of bullies. Adah had to hold on to her stomach with both hands. “Mabel, please don’t do this. It’s too harsh. Please. Let her sleep with me, and we can keep her indoors tomorrow as punishment. Or anything else.”
Mabel leveled a hard stare at Adah. “You best stay out of this. This ain’t any of your business.”
“Mabel, please. She thinks of me as her mother. Let me deal with this.”
“The way you’ll deal with it is to do nothing. You ain’t like us; we been bred a different way than you was. Daisy’s getting out of control under your hand, and let me remind you that both of you are eating and sleeping and living here under my good graces. That’s the only reason you’re still under my roof.”
Buck, who had been observing this interaction, said, “And under our rules.” He grabbed an old tin can and spat in it.
After dusk Mabel led a weeping Daisy out to the barn, allowing her to take a blanket and pillow with her and admonishing Adah to stay out of it. And so Adah went to bed that night after listening to Daisy call out for her—“Mama, Mama!”—for an hour and sob in between her calls.
Sleep was impossible. Instead she battled the sheets for hours, the air in the room suffocating her. Alone in her bed, she went from hugging pillows to hugging herself. She got up and opened the window. Beyond, only an empty farm, night birds crying out, the rumble of a faraway truck, the smell of summer and grass filtering in through the screen.
This was the landscape of her misery, and the night was playing out over a hundred hours. She tried to imagine how a four-year-old girl, who was probably terrified, would get through such a night. She closed her eyes and wondered if she could send love across a distance. Could feelings be conveyed on air currents? Adah clenched her eyes shut, trying to let Daisy know that she loved her and that even if she wasn’t able to protect her right now, someday she would protect her from everything.
When the house became silent, Adah slipped out of bed and, wearing a robe and a pair of shoes, left the house and went straight to the barn. She found Daisy curled up in an empty straw-covered stall, fast asleep, her head on the pillow, her arm clutching the blanket against her chest, her breathing deep and regular. It seemed that crying had finally led to exhaustion.
One of the dogs lay beside Daisy, his back to hers. The other dog was up and sniffing Adah’s hands, begging for attention, but he had probably been lying with Daisy, too. She had to stifle the urge to gather Daisy into her arms and make a dash for it into the woods. But what then? With no transportation, no one waiting for her, and not even the money she had hidden back in the house? She wouldn’t get far.
Heart fractured, Adah stared at the girl for a long time, and then decided it best to leave her be until morning. At least Daisy had the company of the dogs, and bringing her indoors might’ve gotten her upset again, and it certainly wouldn’t have boded well for either of them with Mabel and Buck.
Adah headed back to the house, and the sensation of being watched hit her long before she reached the porch. It raised the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck. Her eyes caught sight of a shadow in one of the windows; it shifted and then pulled back. The dark shape of someone who hadn’t wanted to be seen.
Adah never paused, just kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other, showing no reaction. There was no doubt in her mind, however. One of the Branches had been watching her every move.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next day, Adah, jittery with anticipation, walked the roads to deliver laundry to a customer. The sun had already reached its apex and was sliding down the sky. After she dropped off the laundry basket, she hitched a ride into town, and the old farmer driving his pickup truck never asked about her business. They made the short journey in silence. She was taking a chance going to town after being warned not to, but it was a chance she was now willing to take.
Once there, Adah removed her apron, folded it, and brushed the dust off her clothes, then walked swiftly to Langstaff Avenue and found the cottagelike house with a wishing well in front. After only a moment’s hesitation, Adah walked to the front door and knocked. If Kate Johnson still had any letters . . .
A blonde woman wearing a housedress and old T-bar shoes and carrying a baby on her hip answered and looked at her curiously through the screen door. Her hair was mussed, her face flushed, and she seemed slightly winded, as if Adah had caught her cleaning or cooking.