“Papaw wouldn’t stand for it!” Ivy June said emphatically. “He says as long as he’s alive, there won’t be one Mosley on the giveaway. But if it weren’t for Papaw and his paycheck, and the little that Jessie makes, I don’t know what we’d do.”
She wondered why she was telling Catherine this—Catherine, of all people. Catherine, with the gold locket around her neck and the big house back in Lexington. But the weariness in Ma’s voice and the slump of Daddy’s shoulders out on the stoop made the situation too obvious to cover up. She went on: “Papaw still talks about the big sturdy man he saw up in Hazard in the supermart, paying for a cart full of groceries with food stamps. ‘Why, I’d be ashamed,’ he said. He thinks every able-bodied man ought to work.”
“Well … your dad would if he could,” said Catherine.
“I know. Ma says we’re born back here in the hollow, where there aren’t any jobs, and to get to where there’s work, you need a car. But you can’t buy a car if you don’t have the money. And you don’t have the money if you don’t work. People say, ‘Well, why don’t you move to where the jobs are?’ But what house do we move to, and how do we pay for getting there? That’s what Ma wants to know.”
Ivy June was suddenly embarrassed by her outburst, and pressed her lips together to keep from saying more.
“No simple answers, I guess,” said Catherine.
“Not simple at all,” said Ivy June.
Mammaw took the news about the pickup truck grimly. “Well,” she said, “there’s number two.” She silently shook her head, then pointed to the willow basket by the door. “Bring in the dry clothes, will you, girls?”
Out on the porch, as they checked to see which of the hanging clothes were still damp, Catherine asked, “What did she mean by that?”
“She’s wondering what will happen next,” said Ivy June. “Trouble comes in threes, she says, and Grandmommy’s infected foot was number one.”
“So you go around expecting something awful to happen?” Catherine asked, astonished.
“Sooner or later, it does,” said Ivy June.
“Well, sooner or later, good things happen too,” said Catherine. “That doesn’t prove anything.”
“I could count on one hand the number of good things that just might happen out of the blue,” Ivy June said, a slight edge to her voice.
“You got to be in the exchange program, didn’t you?” Catherine said, but when Ivy June didn’t answer, she quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, who was that boy who said hi to you in the cafeteria?”
Ivy June dropped a clothespin into the cloth bag at the end of the porch. “Just somebody,” she said. And then, mimicking Catherine, “Not my boyfriend.”
Catherine laughed. “Okay. But does he have a name?”
“Jimmy Harris. And that’s all there is to tell.”
“Except how cute he is.”
“You said it, not me,” said Ivy June, and grinned.
Ivy June had promised Catherine that they could wash their hair that weekend, but by Thursday morning, Catherine was so upset over her stringy hair that she rummaged through her suitcase for a springy metal headband she wore sometimes. Combing back her hair, she placed the blue headband over the top of her head, the ends coming down behind her ears. It gave her a sleek look and kept her long hair from hanging down the sides of her face.
“This is my trick when I’m having a bad hair day,” she said. And then, sensing Ivy June’s interest in it, she said, “I’ve got an extra. Do you want it?”
She dug around some more for the red band, and Ivy June tried it on. She was pleased with how it looked.
“It’s pretty,” Ivy June said.
She forgot about it after they set off for the bus stop, because as they walked, they asked each other questions to prepare for their history quiz. What were the causes of World War II? Which was the first country to surrender? What was the Marshall Plan? The questions were more difficult for Catherine because her class back at the Academy hadn’t done the world wars yet.
When the girls got on the bus, Ivy June automatically looked around for Shirl and found her sitting in the back row again with the boys. One of them, sitting next to the boy beside her, kept reaching around the fellow’s back and tickling Shirl’s neck, and, not knowing who did it, Shirl was happily swatting at each boy in turn as they all took part in the teasing.
When Shirley saw Ivy June and Catherine, however, she paused. “Well, well, looks like we got twins today,” she said, pointing to her head. “Bet even their underwear matches.” The boys guffawed.
Ivy June stared at her. “Shirl …?” she said.
But Shirley turned away and invited more tickles from the boys.
Ivy June slid quietly onto a seat, and Catherine sat down next to her. Was Shirl jealous? Because of a headband? Forty minutes later, when the bus stopped at the entrance to the school, Catherine moved with the others toward the front of the bus, but Ivy June waited for Shirl so she could walk with her. Shirl, though, was laughing and hanging on to one of the boys as she passed, and pointedly ignored Ivy June.
“Shirl …,” Ivy June called again when she stepped off the bus behind them. But with a toss of her head, Shirl walked through the door with the boys and on down the hall to her locker.
It was warm—so warm that kids were taking off their jackets and eating their lunches outside. The feathery lavender of new growth on the tips of branches was more distinct now, and the white snowdrop flowers on the south side of the building had been replaced by the bright yellow of daffodils. Ivy June looked around for Shirl, but she must have stayed indoors.
Jimmy Harris came over to the bench where Ivy June and Catherine were sitting.
“Got anything in that lunch sack for me?” he asked, grinning, as Ivy June popped a piece of oatmeal cookie in her mouth.
“That all you think about? Your stomach?” Ivy June asked, and handed him her second cookie, which he accepted.
“No. Think about you sometimes,” he said, the smile even wider on his face.
“Yeah, right,” said Ivy June, but she was pleased, and it showed. “This is Catherine Combs, case you haven’t met. Visiting us for two weeks.”
“How you doin’?” said Jimmy, and turned back to Ivy June. “Well, what I wanted to know was, are you going to Earl’s tomorrow? Supposed to be a nice night.”
Ivy June looked at Catherine. “You want to go if Jessie will drive us?”
“Sure!” said Catherine. “I guess so.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you there if my sister will take us,” Ivy June said.
“Tell her I’ll even get Earl to come out and dance with her if she will,” said Jimmy, and Ivy June laughed.
“Wait till you get a load of Earl,” she said to Catherine.
She looked around again for Shirl, but her friend was definitely avoiding her. Too bad, because Shirl would have been the first one Ivy June told about Jimmy Harris.
When the girls got off the bus that afternoon, Howard was nowhere to be seen. He’d been making himself scarce since the raccoon incident, and as Catherine and Ivy June walked the mile back to Mammaw’s, Ivy June asked, “Want to see my favorite place?”
“What kind of place?”
“Where I go when I want to be by myself.”
“All right,” Catherine agreed. “But you won’t be by yourself.”
“I’ll pretend you’re not there,” Ivy June said with a smile.
They went across the porch and into the kitchen, where Mammaw was making dried-apple pies. A short stack of half-moon pastries sat to one side of her floured board, waiting for the oven. Deftly, she traced circles around a plate on the rolled-out dough, dropped a scoop of dried apples and sugar on one half of each circle, then flopped the other half over and pressed the edges together with her thumb.
“Ummm. Looks good,” said Catherine.
Mammaw smiled. “Figured we needed a little something extra to cheer us up,” she said.
“We
’re going up the mountain,” Ivy June told her grandmother.
“Take a couple cookies for your pocket,” Mammaw said. “And there’s some old apples in the box out there—need to be eaten up.”
As they climbed the steep path, grabbing at tree roots, Ivy June said, “This is about my most favorite place in the whole world.”
“Right here?”
“No, on up a way.”
“Can’t imagine many other people trying to find it,” said Catherine, panting a little. “I’m trying not to look behind me.”
“Don’t worry. If you fell, the thornbushes would stop you,” Ivy June said. “We’re almost there.”
They reached the ridge halfway from the top, where the three small saplings grew side by side a few feet from the edge of the cliff, a mossy bed beneath them.
“Here,” said Ivy June, and sank down on the moss. Catherine gratefully joined her.
“I call it the Whistling Place,” Ivy June explained, “because when the wind blows, it makes a whistling sound. You can hear it best when the trees leaf out.”
Catherine listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
“It’s not going to whistle just for you. Wait for a breeze,” Ivy June told her.
Catherine clasped her knees and slowly turned her head from left to right. “Wow!” she said. “I think I see your house down there. And there’s the little bridge. Look how Thunder Creek winds around!”
Ivy June pointed out the trail to Vulture’s Pass, and the hill they used for sledding in the winter.
“It’s all so beautiful,” said Catherine. “Do you ever come here with Jimmy Harris?”
Ivy June gave her leg a poke. “Of course not.” Then she added, “When I come up here, it’s like everything starts out new. You want to sing something? Sometimes I come up here and sing.”
“What song?” asked Catherine.
Ivy June thought for a moment. Then she lifted her head and sang out clear and steady: “Annie, Annie …”
And as soon as she started “… was the miller’s daughter,” Catherine joined in:
“Annie, Annie …” Her singing was a little shaky at first, but then she sang louder, more sure of herself. “… was the miller’s daughter; far she wandered, by the singing water …”
When Ivy June finished singing it the first time, she began all over again, and their voices seemed to echo against the rock walls of the mountain: “… by the singing water …”
After the third time, Ivy June slowed on the last few words: “… bring your white sheep home,” and Catherine’s voice trailed after: “… bring … your … white … sheep … home.”
Struck by the beauty of it, they sat for a moment, as though the echo was yet to come, pleased at the sounds they had made.
And then, from somewhere below them, “Annie, Annie, wah wah wah wah wah wah.”
The girls jerked around.
“Howard!” Ivy June yelled, springing to her feet.
But with a whoop and a bellow, Howard was already scrambling back down the path, slipping and sliding, laughing himself sick.
After Papaw came home from the mine on Friday, the family ate an early supper so that he could get to bed about eight. He had to work on Saturday this week, so he would be going off before dawn one more morning before he could rest. Ivy June and Catherine waited until they were sure he was in bed before they prepared for their baths and hair-washing out on the enclosed back porch.
“Be sure Howard doesn’t walk in on us,” Ivy June said to Mammaw.
“I don’t think Howard’s going to show himself any time soon, the way you girls were chasin’ and screechin’ at him yesterday. Got all the dogs to howlin’ clear up to Vulture’s Pass.”
“Well, he’d better not show up, because I’m going to punch him good when he does,” Ivy June declared.
The girls took their soap and shampoo and towels out to the big tin washtub and made sure that Mammaw’s flowered curtains were pulled over every square inch of window. They pumped cold water from the porch pump until it was four inches deep in the washtub, then added the large pail of hot water Mammaw had left on the bench. When Ivy June came back into the kitchen for the teakettle, Mammaw said, “Land sakes, Ivy June, add some cold to the kettle before you pour it over yourselves. Water’s always hotter on your head than it is on your hand.”
Ivy June did, and checked the temperature with one finger before she took it back out and closed the door. Catherine had already slipped off her clothes and was clutching a towel around her body. She looked about uneasily before stepping, giggling, into the tub, letting the towel drop at the last possible second. When she sat down, knees scrunched up to her chin, the water came within an inch of the top.
Ivy June slowly poured a bit of water from the kettle over Catherine’s head. Catherine shivered, then quickly added shampoo and began to scrub. “Oh, man, this feels good,” she said.
“Well, scratch away,” said Ivy June. “Mammaw’s got another kettle ready if we need it.”
Catherine’s teeth chattered as soap suds rose on her head and water trickled down her body. “I’m already freezing,” she said. “How do you ever wash yourselves in winter?”
“We bring the tub into the kitchen in front of the stove,” said Ivy June. “If Papaw didn’t have ten people to support, two houses, two cars, and a broken-down truck, he’d have his indoor bathroom by now. That’s what Mammaw wants more than anything.”
“What about your friends?”
“Some of them have bathrooms. It’s us up here in the hollows who are waaaaay behind on that.”
Catherine scrubbed a little more. “Rinse time!” she said finally, and Ivy June reached again for the kettle.
When Catherine was through at last, she wrapped herself in the towel as she stood up and she and Ivy June traded places.
“You’re bathing in my dirty water?” Catherine asked, horrified.
“Not that dirty,” Ivy June replied. “You want to heat some more water and empty this tub out the door, it’s okay with me.”
Catherine reconsidered. “Well, I don’t care if you don’t,” she said.
Afterward, when they were dressed, Catherine stood in front of the small mirror in Ivy June’s bedroom, blow-dryer plugged into the one electric outlet. Her hair dryer and shampoos and conditioners had almost filled one of the smaller bags she’d brought with her. She used a stiff-bristled brush to roll up the ends of her hair, laboriously drying each lock. Ivy June watched enviously as the curls fell loosely around Catherine’s shoulders.
Catherine caught her expression. “Want me to do yours?”
Ivy June thought of Shirl—the way she had reacted to the matching headbands. But then, thinking of Jimmy Harris, she said, “Curl away,” and stood patiently while Catherine worked the brush and the blow-dryer.
Shirl was at Earl’s store, and so was Fred Mason. Ivy June saw them at the far end of the parking lot. They were dancing as close as the slices of bread in a grilled cheese sandwich. Howard had not been allowed to come—his punishment for teasing the girls—so Ivy June and Catherine had ridden alone with Jessie. Ivy June noticed that her sister had traded her sweatshirt for a sweater and put on eyeliner.
“You going to come back for us at ten?” she asked as they got out of the car at the edge of the parking area.
“Oh, I’ll be around,” Jessie said casually, and Ivy June was pleased to see her park the car down the road and walk back to where a dozen or so couples were dancing on the asphalt.
Older couples, Ma and Daddy’s age, sat together on Earl’s steps or in the rockers up on the long porch. But there were a few couples in their twenties—several more hanging around the edges of the crowd—and they had come a bit more dressed up, the girls in slick-soled shoes, not sneakers. Earl himself—a big man in a plaid shirt and suspenders—called out to ask if the music was loud enough, then turned the volume up even more. The first song ended and a second, a number called “Blue Rockabilly,” blared throu
gh the speakers at either end of the porch.
Laughing self-consciously, Ivy June and Catherine faced each other and began to dance, mimicking each other’s foot swivels and finger snapping, exaggerating the movements of their hips to make each other laugh.
When they felt a little bolder, they moved into the more brightly lighted half of the parking lot while couples edged into the shadows. Ivy June nudged Catherine when she saw Jessie dancing with a young man who looked as new at it as Jessie was.
Jimmy Harris was there, standing over at the side of the porch with the other boys, horsing around. Ivy June was sure he had seen her, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Like a lot of boys, she thought, he was shy with girls around his friends. But later that evening, he and a buddy came over and began a crazy kind of dancing that made Ivy June and Catherine smile.
“You want something to drink?” Jimmy asked when there was a break in the music. Earl was selling cans of Coke and Mountain Dew chilled in a tub of ice. “Thanks,” said Ivy June. “I’ll take a Coke.”
His buddy bought one for Catherine.
They sat on tree stumps serving as a fence at one end of the parking lot. Jimmy’s buddy was trying to do a trick with his Mountain Dew can, balancing it on the end of one finger, but it spilled all over his jeans, and Jimmy hooted at him. The boy laughed too, and took off his shirt to wipe his jeans, showing a fine, broad chest that made Catherine smile and turn away.
Fred Mason had his arm around Shirl and was trying to maneuver her back behind Earl’s store. She was giggling and turning him around toward the parking lot, and when she saw Ivy June and Catherine sitting side by side on the tree stumps, she guided him over.
Stepping right in front of Ivy June, Shirl studied the long blond hair, shiny under the high-intensity bulbs of the lot, the curls at the ends, and then at Catherine’s dark hair, curled the same way.
“That the new hairstyle up in Lexington?” she asked with a laugh and, pulling Fred Mason around in a circle, danced back across the lot.