“You’re going to use a sleeping bag tonight. Won’t that be fun? You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.”
She wanted Oma, but she didn’t dare say so. She wanted Bullet, but she didn’t think Daddy would let her sleep in the dog’s cozy little house. She wanted Charlie.
The radio played in the living room. Daddy tried to untangle her hair. “Mommy is making a nice dinner for us. You tell her how good it is. You say thank you.” He gave up on her hair and tossed the brush into the sink. The sound made Carolyn jump. Turning her, he lifted her to his knee and pressed her head against his shoulder. “I know you’re going to miss Oma, Carolyn, but you’re our little girl.” She sat limp, hands like dead spiders in her lap. If she moved, would Daddy hit her again? He set her on her feet. “Go on in the living room.” He spoke gruffly. She went quickly. Before going through the doorway, she looked back.
Daddy sat on the closed toilet lid, his head in his hands.
* * *
Carolyn did everything Mommy and Daddy told her. She didn’t question; she didn’t argue. Sometimes, after everyone had gone to bed, she would open her bedroom door and creep down the hallway to Charlie’s room and sleep curled up in a blanket by his bed. On cold nights, he let her snuggle with him. Sometimes she awakened early enough to go back to her own bed so Mommy wouldn’t know she slept in Charlie’s room.
The family went to church every Sunday. Carolyn liked Sunday school. The nice teachers read the same stories Oma had. She liked to hear the singing coming through the wall from the sanctuary and wished she could sit in there with its long red carpet and high ceiling and steps leading up to the cross with gold candlesticks and white candles flickering on the table.
One day after church, Daddy turned the car in the opposite direction from home. “I think I’ve found the place.” Daddy smiled at Mommy. Charlie sat tall, peering out the window. Carolyn couldn’t see anything.
Daddy turned off the road. The car bounced and jostled. “This is it.”
“Look at that tree!” Charlie rolled his window down. “Can I climb it?”
Daddy stopped the car. “Go ahead.”
Mommy protested. “It’s too tall.”
“He’ll be fine, Hildie.”
“Be careful!” Mommy called after Charlie.
Daddy laughed. “Relax. He’s a monkey.”
Mommy looked back as Daddy drove on. “An English walnut tree. We could probably get enough nuts off that one tree to pay part of the property taxes.”
Daddy grinned. “Just like you to be so practical.” He stopped and got out of the car. “Come on. Let’s walk the property. See what you think of it.”
Carolyn got out after they walked away. She looked for a big tree and spotted her brother high among the branches. Walking back, she stood near the trunk and looked up. Charlie straddled a high branch. She wandered back and heard Mommy and Daddy talking.
“Can we do this, Trip? I mean, neither of us knows anything about building a house.”
“We can learn. I’ve already ordered books from the library. The bank will loan us enough to buy the property. We haven’t the money to hire an architect or contractor. We’ll have to do it ourselves, Hildie.”
“You really want this, don’t you, Trip?”
“Don’t you? You’re the one who says she misses having space around. You talk about the farm all the time.”
“Do I?”
Daddy took her hand and kissed it. Drawing it through his arm, they walked together. Carolyn followed far enough behind not to be noticed, close enough to hear. “Just think about it, Hildie. We could stake out the house wherever we want it, hire someone to dig a well. We’d build a shed first to hold whatever tools I’d need to get started. Having a shed would save time in hauling everything back and forth. We could come out a couple times a week after I get off work, get started on the foundations, work weekends. Nothing fancy, just a simple house; one big room to start, add the kitchen next and a bathroom. As soon as we move in, we can add on two more bedrooms.”
“You’re talking about an awful lot of work, Trip.”
“I know, but we’d be building something for ourselves. How else are we going to have our dream home in the country unless we do it?”
“It’s a long way from town and schools.”
“Only two miles, and there’s a school bus. I already checked about that. All Charlie has to do is walk to the end of the driveway. He’ll be picked up and dropped off every day.”
Mommy looked around again, frowning this time. “I don’t know, Trip.”
Daddy turned her to face him. “Breathe the air, Hildemara.” He slid his hands up and down her arms. “Aren’t you tired of living in a house closed in on all sides by other houses? and gossiping neighbors who avoid you like the plague? Wouldn’t you like our children to grow up the way you did? in the country with space around them? They’d be safe and free to roam out here. No more living in the shadow of a federal prison.”
Stepping away, Mommy bent down and picked up a handful of soil. She smelled it and crumbled the dirt in her hand, letting it sift through her fingers. “Smells good.” She brushed off her hands. “We could build a tent-house to start, use a Coleman stove, keep supplies in the trunk of the car, dig a hole, and build an outhouse.”
Daddy grinned. “Now you’re talking!”
“We could put an orchard of walnut trees up front, plant fruit trees, a few grapevines, and a vegetable garden over there. We could have chickens . . .”
Daddy pulled her into his arms and kissed her. When he drew back, Mommy’s face looked pink. Daddy smiled and took her hand. “Let’s figure out where to put the house.”
Carolyn watched them walk away. She wandered back to the walnut tree and watched her brother climb from one branch to another.
Mommy and Daddy called out. “Charlie! Carolyn! Come on, you two. Time to go home and have lunch.” Carolyn climbed into the backseat. Charlie sounded winded from his fast climb down and run to the car. Daddy started the car. “We’re going to build a house here, kids. What do you think about that?”
“We’re going to live out here?” Charlie sounded worried.
“Yes.”
“But what about my friends? If we move, I’ll never see them.”
“You’d see them in school.” Daddy turned onto the road. “And Happy Valley Road has plenty of kids. I saw one riding a bicycle and another one riding a horse.”
“A horse?” Charlie’s eyes brightened. “Can we get a horse?”
Daddy laughed and glanced at Mommy. “Maybe. But not right away.”
No one asked Carolyn what she thought about moving away from the only house she had ever known. Carolyn had no friends or playmates. Only one thing worried her. “Will Oma know how to find me?”
Mommy and Daddy exchanged a look. “Of course.” Daddy nodded. Mommy stared out the window.
* * *
Every Friday after work, Carolyn’s father drove the family out to “the property.” They went through Paxtown with its Old West buildings, through meadows, and over a hill with a cemetery. Happy Valley Road was the first left on the other side of the hill. Dad had set up a tent-house. Charlie would take off to climb the big walnut tree; Mom laid out sleeping bags on the platforms, set up the Coleman stove, and started dinner. Dad’s first project was to dig a deep hole and build an outhouse. Next, he built a shed for his tools and put a heavy padlock on the door.
Left on her own, Carolyn wandered with Bullet. When he scared a man’s sheep, Dad drove a steel stake deep into the ground and attached a chain to it. After that, Bullet could only walk in circles. He’d run until he wound himself tight, and Carolyn would walk him in circles the other way until he had more freedom.
Charlie knew everyone on the road within a few weeks. He took Carolyn over to meet their next-door neighbor. Lee Dockery had beehives behind his house. “Call me Dock.” He leaned down, smiling at her. “‘Hickory, dickory, dock, the mouse ran up the clock.’” His fingers walk
ed from her stomach up her chest and tickled her under the chin. She giggled. He said she could come over anytime and gave them each a honeycomb dripping with sweetness.
Her father told her to stay out of the way. Her mother told her to try not to get so dirty. With Charlie gone most of the time, Carolyn had no one. She often went over to the barbed-wire fence and watched Dock work among his hives. Bees swarmed around him when he lifted wooden frames filled with honeycombs. “Don’t they sting you?” she called.
“Bees are my friends. I never take more than they’re willing to share.”
Dock invited her inside his house and let her spin honey from the combs. He let her dip her finger into the thick, rich, sweet-smelling mass dripping down a tube into glass jars. He called her “honeybee” and petted her head the same way she petted Bullet. Often, he lifted her onto his lap and talked about his wife who had died and how much they had wanted to have children and couldn’t. “You look sleepy.” He let her rest her head against his chest. He smelled of tobacco and sweat. He stroked her legs under her dress. “Your mother is calling for you.” Dock lifted her and set her on her feet. “You have to go home now, honeybee.” He kissed her on the mouth and looked so sad. “Come back real soon, and we’ll play some games together.”
Carolyn ducked under barbed wire stretched between fence posts and ran through the mustard flowers.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” Her mother shook her. “Where were you?”
“At Dock’s.”
“Dock?”
“Mr. Dockery, Mom.” Charlie answered for her. “The bee man. He gives us honeycombs.” He sat at the makeshift table where the family ate their meals. “He’s really nice.”
Frowning, her mother let go of her and straightened, looking toward the house next door. “Well, you leave Mr. Dockery alone. I’m sure he has work to do and doesn’t need you underfoot.”
Carolyn didn’t tell her that Dock liked her more than Daddy or Mommy. He said he wanted her to come back and play real soon.
4
All that summer, the family still lived in the rental house near the penitentiary during the week and spent weekends on their new property. Neither Daddy nor Mommy read stories or played games anymore. Her father read big books that came in the mail. He made notes and drawings on yellow legal pads. He rolled out white paper and used a ruler to make bigger drawings with numbers all over. Her mother had housework and laundry and the garden. Charlie had friends. Carolyn played alone. She always had the first bath while Charlie listened to a radio program. She was always first in bed, first with the lights out.
Curling on her side, the rag doll tucked tight against her, Carolyn remembered riding around with Oma in the gray Plymouth. She missed opening a package of Wonder bread and eating fresh slices on the way home from the grocery store. She missed having stories read to her and working puzzles on a board Oma kept under her bed. She missed helping in the kitchen and having tea parties in the afternoon. Most of all, she missed Oma’s hugs and kisses. Her mother didn’t hug or kiss anyone except Daddy.
Charlie went off with his friends every morning, and Mommy did chores inside the house. “Go on outside and play, Carolyn.” Carolyn made mud cookies alongside the house, baked them on a board, and pretended to feed her rag doll while Bullet sat beside her, head high, ears perked, panting. Anytime anyone came near the gate, he growled and barked. Sometimes he licked Carolyn’s face, but Mommy didn’t like him to kiss her. When he did, she always made Carolyn come in and wash with soap that got in her eyes and burned like fire.
She looked forward to Friday night, when Daddy drove them all to the property. Saturday, while her parents poured and smoothed concrete foundations and framed walls, Carolyn went over to Dock’s house. When she got sticky, he gave her a bath. He didn’t just throw a washcloth to her and tell her to wash herself. He used his hands.
He said he loved her. He said he’d never hurt her.
And she believed him.
* * *
At the end of the summer, her father finished the big room and the family moved to the property. While Mommy plastered the walls and painted, Daddy started work on the kitchen and bathroom and two bedrooms. Carolyn was glad she would get to share a room with Charlie again. She didn’t like sleeping in a room all by herself.
Dock waved Carolyn over when Mommy wasn’t looking and invited Carolyn to play when her mother went to work in her garden. He had Chinese checkers and pick-up sticks. He gave her honey and crackers and milk. “Don’t tell your mother or father. They’ll think you’re bothering me and tell you never to visit me again. You want to come back, don’t you? You like spending time with old Dock, don’t you?”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Carolyn said she loved him. And she meant it. He always made her go back when Mommy called. And she knew better than to talk about Dock to anyone.
As soon as Daddy got home, he went to work on the house. The power saw screamed, filling the air with the scent of sawdust, until Mom said dinner was ready.
“You’ll be starting school in September, Carolyn,” her mother told her. “We’re going to orientation day. You’ll meet your teacher, Miss Talbot, and learn where to go to catch the school bus home.”
Carolyn told Dock she was afraid to go to school. What if nobody liked her? What if the bus left without her? What if . . . ? He lifted her onto his lap and told her everything would be fine. He said he wished she were his little girl. He’d take her away, and she’d never have to go to school. They’d go to Knott’s Berry Farm or the San Diego Zoo. He’d take her to the beach and let her play in the sand as long as she wanted. “Would you like to live with me, honeybee?”
“I’d miss Charlie and Oma.”
“Charlie has his own friends, and your oma hardly ever comes and sees you.”
Dock got tired of playing board games. He showed her other games—secret games, he called them, because she was very special. He tied a red silk ribbon around her neck and made a big bow. The first few times, she felt uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach, but he was so nice to her. Gradually, she got over those feelings and did whatever he told her. She didn’t want him to stop liking her. Who would be her friend then?
Then one day while they played their secret games, he hurt her. She cried out and Dock clamped his strong, rough hand over her mouth. She tasted blood. Frightened, she struggled, but he held her more firmly. He told her to calm down, to be quiet; everything would be all right; hush now, hush!
Then Dock started to cry. “I’m sorry, honeybee. I’m so sorry!” He cried so hard, Carolyn was scared. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He washed the blood off her bare legs and put her underwear back on.
He held her between his knees, his face wet and scared. “I can’t be your friend anymore, honeybee. And you can’t say anything about coming over here. Not to anyone. Not ever. Your mother told you not to come. She’d spank you for disobeying. Your father would shoot me or take me to jail. You don’t want that to happen, do you? It’d be your fault.” His eyes darted around. “Promise you won’t say anything! We’ll both get into a lot of trouble if you tell anyone we’re friends.”
She lay in bed that night, curling on her side, sucking her thumb, still hurting deep inside. Charlie slept like a rock in the other bed. Dock came to her window and tapped softly. Heart pounding, she pretended to be asleep.
The next day, when Dock waved at her, she ducked her head and pretended she didn’t see.
He came back again that night and talked softly through the window while Charlie slept. She didn’t want to go to Knott’s Berry Farm or the San Diego Zoo. She didn’t want to go to Mexico. “I’ll come back, honeybee. I love you, baby.” Shivering, she kept her eyes shut until he went away. She didn’t want to play games with him anymore. When all was quiet, she pulled her blanket off the bed, grabbed her pillow, and hid in the closet.
When Charlie slid the door open in the morning, she screamed. He jumped back and screamed, too. Her mother came running i
n. “What’s the matter with you two?”
“Carolyn’s in the closet!”
“What are you doing in the closet?”
“I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
She shook her head. She didn’t dare tell.
She had nightmares every night. Mommy and Daddy started talking about her in low voices.
“Something’s happened to her, Trip. I don’t know what, but something’s wrong. I feel it. Miss Talbot called this afternoon. She said Carolyn has been falling asleep in the playhouse. Apparently she’s sucking her thumb again.”
“She hasn’t done that in two years.”
“Some of the children tease her about it. Miss Talbot tried to talk to her, but she said Carolyn is like a little clam. She hardly talks at all.”
Her parents kept looking at her all through dinner. Her father asked if someone was bullying her at school. Her mother said she didn’t have to be afraid to tell them anything, but Dock had told her what would happen to her if she did. When she didn’t say anything, they asked Charlie. “Have you seen anything going on at school?”
“We’re not in the same playground as the little kids.”
“What about the school bus?” Dad wanted to know. “Anyone bothering her?”
“I don’t know, Dad.”
“Well, make it your business to find out.” Dad raised his voice. “She’s your sister! Watch out for her!”
Tucked in bed for the night and bedroom door closed, Charlie talked to her in the dark. “Tell me who’s picking on you, Carolyn. I’ll beat ’em up. I’ll make them leave you alone.” Carolyn thought about how big Dock was, how easily he could hurt her brother. She pulled the blanket over her head and hid under the covers.
When she went to school, Miss Talbot talked with her. “Your mommy says you’re having nightmares. Can you tell me about your dreams, sweetheart?” Carolyn shrugged her shoulders and pretended not to remember. Everyone would be mad at her if she said anything about Dock—Mommy, Daddy, Charlie. She had made Dock cry, hadn’t she? She had done something terribly wrong.