Wonderland Creek Part 23

"Teenaged is about right. Folks around here usually marry before they're twenty."

"What about you, Ike? You look older than twenty."

"I'm twenty-four. But marrying would interfere with my fiddling." He gave me a wink.

"Faye told me I'd be considered an old maid if I lived here. I'm twenty-two."

He shook his head in mock dismay. "I don't know what's wrong with those flatlanders up where you come from, but if you lived in Kentucky, someone would have snapped you up a long time ago."

"Hey, let's go," the banjo player called. "We're getting paid to make music, you know."

"See you later." Ike winked again. I was growing accustomed to his winks and thought they had a certain charm.

The band began to play, and their glorious music made the event. I watched everyone dancing and clapping and tapping their toes, and I couldn't stop smiling all afternoon. Every time the band took a break, Ike sat beside me and we talked. As evening approached, Ike took a dinner break, and we ate fried chicken and sipped cider together.

"You're so talented," I told him. "Can't you get out of Acorn and go someplace where you can really get paid to play?"

"Mack always talked about helping me get up to Nashville. Said he knew people up there, but I had to turn him down."

"Why?"

"Turns out Mack's mama was a Larkin."

"Oh, for heaven's sake. You'd let a stupid thing like that stand in the way of a better life? Making music? Doing what you love?"

"You've seen how folks treat June Ann for marrying a Larkin. It would have been a one-way trip if I'd ever gone up north with Mack. The Arnetts would never let me come back. They're so sure the Larkins already found the treasure that they'd figure I was stealing part of it, too. 'Course, now that Mack's dead I guess it don't matter no more. I don't know anybody in Nashville, and I don't have the money to get there on my own."

"I guess you regret saying no to Mack's offer?"

"I guess." I had never seen Ike look so somber. He took a few gulps of his cider and said, "He was looking for the treasure map, you know."

"The treasure map? Who was?"

"Mack. He told me once that if he found it, he was gonna divide the money up between the two families and make peace around here. That would have been my ticket to Nashville for sure . . . but then he died."

"Who do you think-" I stopped short. I had almost asked him who he thought had shot Mack. I forgot it was supposed to be a hunting accident.

"Who do I think . . . what?" Ike asked.

I had to think fast. "Who do you think will take care of Lillie now that Mack is gone? I can't stay in Acorn forever, you know."

"Well, now that's too bad. We sure could use a smart, pretty gal like you to brighten up our town. What would we have to do to get you to stay longer?" He reached to take my hand, and I was glad that my long soak in the bathtub had gotten rid of the dirt beneath my fingernails. A little s.h.i.+ver slid through me as he gently ma.s.saged my palm. Ike was flirting with me again. I decided to cool him off by being practical.

"Well, for starters, you would have to modernize the town of Acorn. You know, put electricity and indoor plumbing in all the houses. A refrigerator and a wringer was.h.i.+ng machine would help, too. And a real stove, the kind that doesn't need wood every five minutes to keep the food cooking. And a telephone." I would have added a real bathtub with hot water faucets, but that seemed too personal.

"Boy, that's quite a list."

"You must think I'm very spoiled for wanting all those things."

"You're being honest. Folks around here would probably like to have all them things too, but you don't miss what you never had."

"I've had to adjust to a lot of things since coming here. I miss listening to the radio, too."

"One of my uncles used to have a radio back when the mine was open, and I used to go over to his place and listen to it. Every Sat.u.r.day night when I wasn't playing in a band somewhere, we'd listen to The Grand Ole Opry program out of Nashville. I remember hearing some red-hot fiddle playing by a group called the Fruit Jar Drinkers."

"You're making that up. That's not a real name."

"No, ma'am, I ain't making it up. It's the gospel truth. Another favorite of mine was The Possum Hunters."

I couldn't help laughing and Ike joined me. "What's your band called?"

"We've changed it a couple of times as players joined and quit. Right now we're called The Wonderland Creek Boys."

"That's a fine name. What other events do you play for?"

"Everything you can think of that needs music. If you're still here this summer, there'll be some tent revivals and baptisms and such. Barn dances, too. You'll get to hear us play a lot."

"Tent revivals? That sounds interesting." I had only read about revivals in books. My father's church was too dignified for one-although every time I saw people dozing during the Sunday services, I wondered if our church could do with a little old-fas.h.i.+oned reviving.

"I hope you stay, Alice. I'd love to take you along everywhere I go." I simply smiled in return, wise enough not to make any rash promises this time.

The stars were s.h.i.+ning in the clear night sky the next time Ike took a break. He sat cross-legged on the gra.s.s in front of me and took both of my hands in his. He knew exactly how to look into a girl's eyes to make her heart forget how to beat right.

"I wish I wasn't playing so I could dance with you," he said.

What would it feel like to dance with Ike Arnett? He was so tall and strong. Just the thought of his muscular arms around me made my heart flop helplessly. I couldn't remember having heart problems when I dated Gordon, but hearts fluttered and skipped and thudded like drums all the time in the romance stories I'd read. Everything about this evening seemed to come straight out of a novel-the warm breeze, the stars winking in the sky, the silvery moon, the blissful bride and groom. Love was in the air and it made me reckless.

"Can't you ask for one song off? So we can dance?"

His smile outshone the moon. "For you, pretty lady, I'd quit the group for good!"

"No, don't do that," I laughed.

"Let me talk to Sam." He scrambled to his feet and I watched him walk over to the bearded banjo player. I could tell by the way the man grinned when he looked over at me that he was saying yes. "We're gonna play a couple of songs first," Ike told me when he returned, "then I'll come back for you. Don't dance with anybody else in the meantime. Promise?"

"I promise. I'll be waiting for you." A couple of young men had asked me to dance already, but I had pointed to Ike and said that I was with him.

I listened to the band play a few more songs, my antic.i.p.ation building. Then, as they played the introduction to Stephen Foster's song, "I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair," Ike laid down his fiddle, jumped off the platform, and swept me into his arms.

My heart forgot every normal rhythm it had ever known. I had danced with Gordon, of course, but it had never felt like this. Ike pulled me very close. My cheek rested against his chest. His warm hand gripped mine tightly. He was an excellent dancer, feeling the music in every pore of his body, and I followed him the way Belle had trotted behind Mack. There was enough electricity between us to light up Acorn and power a hundred was.h.i.+ng machines. The crowd noticed and paused to watch us. They applauded when the song ended.

Ike bowed and kissed my hand before releasing it. "Thank you, lovely lady," he murmured in my ear. Then he jogged back to the bandstand and picked up his fiddle. I felt like I had forgotten how to walk as I made my way back to my seat. My cheeks felt oven-warmed. The tempo picked up as the band played more foot-tapping music, and I couldn't stop smiling. Watching Ike play was exhilarating. He clearly loved what he did. I recognized the same joy on his face that I felt when I was in a library, inhaling the aroma of leather and paper and fresh ink, and surrounded by books-dearly loved favorites and brand-new stories waiting to be opened and explored.

I hated for the evening to end. By the time Ike and the other musicians packed up their instruments, I could see that he was tired. His straw-colored hair, dark with sweat, had finger trails from raking his hand through it. He had removed his tie and unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt collar.

"I had a wonderful time, Ike. Thanks so much for inviting me."

"Sorry I didn't get to spend more time with you."

"I know. But I wouldn't have wanted to miss hearing you play, either."

He held my hand as we walked to the truck. Once again, he opened the door for me and helped me climb in. Ike was more gallant than Gordon had been, and much more gallant than Mack had been when he'd heaved me onto the horse-and Mack was supposed to be the civilized one, college-educated no less.

Ike walked around the truck and slid behind the steering wheel. "We won't be able to talk much on the way home," he said, "so I want to tell you how nice it was to have you watching and listening to me tonight. You were the prettiest girl there, even prettier than the bride. I been hoping all night that you'd let me kiss you."

My heart started going wild again. Back home, nice girls didn't kiss on the first date. But since Ike and I had worked together on Lillie's garden for an entire afternoon, this seemed like our second date. "You may kiss me," I said. I sounded breathless.

Ike slid closer and took my face in his hands-I had always loved it in novels when the hero held the heroine's face in his hands. I had watched Ike's talented, sensitive fingers, chase up and down the fiddle strings all afternoon and they had seemed magical. Now those magical fingers were caressing my face. He leaned forward and kissed me.

Gordon's kisses had always seemed polite, even after we'd dated for nearly a year, as if he was always aware that I was the minister's daughter. Ike's kiss was not polite in the least. It was as pa.s.sionate and breathtaking as his music, yet he didn't take advantage. The kiss lasted just long enough to be intriguing . . . and to leave me wanting more.

He leaned back and looked at me. "Thank you, Alice. I could let out a whoop right now, but I'd wake up the whole town."

He started the truck-which probably did wake up the whole town-and drove me home. I knew we wouldn't be able to talk to each other, so I moved closer to him on the seat. He smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

Thirty minutes later we roared into Acorn. Ike left the motor idling as he walked me to the library door. "Better not kiss you again or everyone in town will be talking about it by sunup," he said with a wink. "Can I see you again, Alice?"

"I would like that."

"Thanks! Well . . . good night."

"Good night, Ike."

I floated into the house and up the stairs to my bedroom. I knew better than to think this could be love after such a short time. But whatever it was, it was wonderful.

I had left home to come to Kentucky nearly four weeks ago. Four weeks! It was the longest I had ever been away from home. In some ways I was homesick, but not as much as I had expected to be when I had waved good-bye to my parents in Blue Island. I missed the modern comforts of home, of course, and my mother's home-cooked meals. And I missed my friend Freddy. I longed to talk to her about everything I had experienced, including my date with Ike Arnett and his breathtaking kiss. I wrote her a long letter Sunday night as I sat in bed, but then I realized how selfish it was to describe my adventures when Freddy was stuck in Blue Island, tied down to her teaching job and her ailing mother. If I had learned anything at all during my time here, it was how exhausting it was to run a household and take care of someone who wasn't well-and on top of that, Freddy taught school all day, coping with the needs of dozens of children.

I didn't mail the letter. In the past I had been selfish when it came to my friends.h.i.+p with Freddy, so I decided that when I did get home, I would help her take care of her mother once in a while so Freddy could go out and have a little fun.

Ike returned on Monday to finish planting the garden with me. To my surprise, several other townspeople joined us, including Marjorie and Alma, who helped us after work that afternoon. "Everybody loves Miss Lillie," Alma said as she tucked another one of her tomato seedlings into the ground. "The least we can do is help her."

It felt good to stand back and survey the finished garden. I felt a little sorry that I would be gone before the fall harvest came-but not sorry to miss the hard, sweaty labor of canning tomatoes and green beans.

I rode up to June Ann's cabin on Tuesday to bring the two tonics that Lillie and I had made. That was what Miss Lillie called them-tonics. "Potion sounds like something that witches make," she'd said, "and this here is just folk medicine, pa.s.sed on from one generation to the next."

As Belle and I rode into the clearing where June Ann's cabin was, I saw her out in the field, hoeing a row of corn plants. She had the baby tied to her chest in a sling made from a crocheted shawl. June Ann waved to me in greeting when she heard the dog barking, but instead of coming to the house she continued working. I dismounted and walked out to the field to talk to her.

"You're working awfully hard, June Ann," I said when I reached her.

"Don't I know it." She continued to chop weeds with the hoe.

"We just put in Miss Lillie's garden, and I know firsthand that tending a garden this size is too much work for one person." Her plot was three times the size of Lillie's, and June Ann had just given birth two weeks ago. I was furious with the Larkins and Arnetts for not helping her.

"Well, one person is all I got," she said. I heard the weariness in her voice.

"When do you think Wayne will be back?"

"I dunno. Could be months." She removed her hat to wipe her brow. Her red hair shone as bright as flames in the sun. "He said he'd be back by harvest time, though." In the meantime, she would be forced to do all the work herself, along with spending sleepless nights with a new baby. No wonder she felt hopeless.

"Don't you want to go back to the cabin and rest? I brought you a new book to read. And Miss Lillie finished making that tonic for Feather. She made something to help you with the baby blues, too. And I have a little present for you." I thought she might cheer up when she saw the lamp oil I had brought.

"I need to finish this row first." She bent to continue hoeing.

I could see the baby moving inside the sling, and I heard a few fitful whimpers. I pulled the hoe out of June Ann's hands. "I'll finish the row for you. I already have blisters the size of dimes. Sit down and rest for a while. It sounds like Feather is waking up."

"I can't ask you to do my work."

"You aren't asking, I'm insisting. Several people helped me with Miss Lillie's garden, so I'm just returning the favor."

"Well . . . I'm much obliged, Allie." She untied the shawl and spread it on the ground, then sat down on it to nurse her baby. When I finished hoeing the row of corn, we walked back to the cabin and fed Feather a spoonful of Lillie's tonic. June Ann took a dose of the other one.

"Phew-ee! That tastes awful! Did you try it, Allie?"

"No. But I did help Miss Lillie make it. And I brought you this, too." I gave her the container of lamp oil. I had dumped it out of the lamp in Mack's bedroom, since I was too weary to read in bed at night. "If Feather keeps you awake now, at least you'll be able to read the book I brought you."

June Ann laid her head on my shoulder and wept. "You're the only friend I have in the whole world!"

I stayed as long as I dared before continuing on my route to the Sawyer farm and the school. When I walked into the cla.s.sroom, it looked half empty. "Where is everyone?" I asked the teacher.

"We always lose students once spring arrives. Their parents need help with the planting. I hear that the measles are going around, too. Have you had them?"

"Oh, yes. A long time ago." Freddy and I had been sick at the same time, and we had annoyed everyone on our party lines by talking to each other on the telephone all day.

Maggie Coots was waiting for me at her cabin with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits and jam. We sat and talked about all kinds of things, the way Freddy and I used to do. "Do you know Ike Arnett?" I asked as she poured me a second cup of tea. "He's about my age and plays the fiddle?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I went with him on Sat.u.r.day to hear his band play at a wedding."

"Ah! I can see by your smile that you had a good time."

She was right. The memory of that day did make me smile. Had it been the music or Ike-or both?

"I did have fun. He's very sweet, and he's a very talented musician. Not only that, but he likes to read."

"Look at you grinning!"

I was blus.h.i.+ng, too. "There's so much work to do every day that it was nice to get away for a change."

"With a good-looking man?"

"Well, yes," I laughed. "With a good-looking man."

"People back home in Ma.s.sachusetts were so surprised when I wrote and told them I had fallen in love with a Kentucky man. They have such ignorant ideas about the people in these hills. No one could understand how an educated woman like me could fall in love with a man who worked in a coal mine. But Hank was smart and sweet, just like your fellow. And he was handsome, too."

"Oh, I'm not falling in love," I said quickly. "Ike made it clear that he isn't looking for a wife, and I'm certainly not looking for a husband. I like working in the Acorn library, but I don't think I could ever live here all the time like you do."

Maggie wagged her finger at me. "Never say never, Alice."