22

A sound like a rasping saw startled Lilly awake, but she kept her eyes tightly closed. She didn’t want to see where she was. The sound came in waves, speeding up and slowing down, then speeding up again. She was hungry and very thirsty, and when she rubbed her sore knees, they smarted like Mama had put stinging antiseptic on them.

She could feel something behind her, something like a wall, but it didn’t seem like wood. Without turning around, she patted with her hands. It had ridges like a piece of tin. Was she on a roof? No, that didn’t make sense. A roof would be under her if she was sitting on it, not all around her. She should have figured that out when the man dumped her here, but she had been too scared to notice anything. She wasn’t going to open her eyes and look, though, because that would make it real.

Maybe she could keep from looking, but she couldn’t keep from thinking. Kate would say that was Lilly’s problem—she thought too much about serious things. Maybe Kate was right.

It had all started when she heard the dog barking. Who could ignore that pitiful sound? Not her. Scenes flashed behind her eyelids like lightning, scaring the wits out of her, until she settled on remembering things as they had happened. It was important to keep everything in order so she could deal with it one thing at a time.

Manda told her to wait on the porch, but she got bored and walked down to the creek. She heard the dog and went to investigate. When she got to the rock wall, she set her valise and the wicker hamper on top and climbed over. She remembered the dog’s bark turned to whines and then to crying—if dogs could cry. She decided they could. The cry seemed to come from beyond a garden filled with corn. It was just a short way from the stone fence to the field. She started walking between two rows. The green stalks stood tall and straight with budding ears of corn tickling her face with their silky tassels. She tried to run but it was hard. The rows were too close together.

Something stopped her when she got to the end of the rows. She stood in the shadows of the cornstalks and looked out. A man was at the edge of a pond. A beagle was running around on the bank acting all frantic. It looked like the dog she fed the pieces of biscuit to. The man heaved a gunnysack into the water. It made a big splash. The dog jumped in after it. The man whisked his hands together like that was that and walked away.

Lilly held her breath. When she could no longer see the man, she ventured out of the cornfield. She ran to the edge of the pond. A thick patch of cattails obscured her view. Dragonflies buzzed her head. Watching her step, she parted the cattails. One burst and sent seeds flying around her.

The dog flailed in the water.

“Here, girl,” she said but not too loud. “Come here.”

The beagle paddled over and climbed up onto the shore. Droplets flew everywhere when the dog shook herself. Her big brown eyes looked up at Lilly. They said, “Help me.”

Out in the pond, the bag was sinking. Lilly had a sick feeling about what was inside.

She searched among the fuzzy brown cattails for a stick. When she found a long, narrow piece of driftwood, she waded into the murky water, Daddy John’s warning playing in her ears: “Ponds are dangerous. The muddy bottom will suck you in, and you might not be able to get out.”

She could see what he meant, for it was like walking in cold molasses. Before she’d gone ten steps, one of her new shoes was stuck. She pulled her foot out and continued on, leaving the shoe in the mud. The water lapped at her waist. She leaned as far forward as she dared, jabbing with the stick. She could feel the burlap bundle with the end of the spindly pole, but she couldn’t catch hold. She needed to go farther out into the water. Using the stick, she probed the bottom of the pond. If she walked another two feet forward, she’d be in over her head, and she was not a good swimmer.

This called for praying with your eyes wide open. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed aloud, “I’m in an awful fix. I’d be ever so grateful if You’d show me the way out.”

Streaming behind the bag was a length of heavy twine she hadn’t noticed before. Gently, gently, gently she used the end of the stick to turn the bag around and snagged the twine where it was coiled around the mouth of the sack. The bag was nearly submerged, but she saw victory coming her way. So close. So close—and then the stick snapped. She could have cried with frustration, but she didn’t have time.

“I’m serious, Lord,” she prayed again.

The water splashed behind her. The beagle swam by. Using her stocky legs like sculls, the dog propelled herself through the murky water. She grabbed the sack by her teeth and began swimming toward her.

Lilly reached for the burlap bag and caught it by the twine. The weight of it nearly pulled her under, but she held on and struggled back to the bank.

Kneeling by the bundle, she worked on the tie with her muddy hands. The dog ran circles around her, barking. “Shhh,” she said as the twine came loose. There were four brown and white puppies inside the bag. She lifted them out and put them on the bank in the sunlight. Her heart was grieved.

The mother beagle nosed them all before settling on one. They all looked dead to Lilly, but the mother held out hope. Lilly put her hand where she thought the puppy’s heart should be. She could feel a beat. When she touched the others in the same place, their tiny chests were still. Oh, it was so sad.

The one puppy’s belly was so full of water, it jiggled. She picked it up by the heels like Mama said she did with just-born babies. She smacked its behind but not very hard. Dirty water gushed out of the puppy’s mouth. It made a meager mewling sound. That made her so happy she wanted to dance before she remembered where she was and what she’d seen. She held the puppy close.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said to the beagle.

But before she had a chance to turn around, a rough arm grabbed her from behind. It closed around her midsection, nearly cutting off her breath. “You bunch of meddling no-goods,” a man hissed in her ear. “I’ve had my fill of the lot of you.”

Every time she tried to scream, he tightened his hold until her head was swimmy and her ears popped. It seemed he carried her a good long ways before he climbed a wooden ladder, opened a short but wide door, and tossed her in. She landed on her knees. The puppy plopped from her arms onto the floor with a soft oof. She hadn’t realized she still held it.

The door closed. Her ears rang, but she could hear the man descend the ladder. The sound gave her some relief. She lay on her side and pulled the puppy close. It curled into her like the twins had when they were babies.

She heard the mother beagle’s frenzied howling. The howling stopped on a sharp yelp of pain. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and stuck her fingers in her ears. She didn’t want to think about what was happening to the dog.

Even with her fingers in her ears, she could hear the thump of the ladder against the bottom of the doorframe. The door opened with a screech, and the mother beagle sailed across the floor, landing on her feet like a cat.

“Here’s ye some company,” the man said. “Cur ain’t good for nothing no way.”

The door screeched shut on rusty hinges. Lilly could hear something shoved against the door. “See how you like two or three days up here,” she could hear him say as he descended. “Teach you lot to mind your own business.”

She cried really hard but not very loud, for she didn’t want the man to hear her. Who knew if he was still about? All she could think of were those three puppy bodies lying on the bank.

The beagle sat in front of her with her head cocked. She watched Lilly for a while, then came over and licked her tearstained face, like she was sorry to get her in this mess.

Lilly put her arms around the dog’s neck. “That’s okay. It’s not your fault.” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “At least we saved one baby.”

She lay down again. The mother dog sidled up really close and then sort of fell against her. It almost made Lilly laugh. The puppy nursed. It seemed no worse for wear. Though she never thought she would, Lilly slept.

Now it was hours later. Lilly could tell by the change of light in the room. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell light from dark. She guessed now it was twilight. The waxing, waning, sawing sound shrilled like a thousand locusts caught in a jar.

Locusts! That was all it was. She’d just never heard so many at one time. From the climb up the ladder, she surmised she was in a sort of tree house. That was what made the bugs so loud; they were up in the trees as well.

She was uncomfortable, but try as she might to get her mind off her bladder, it would not be denied. “Oh, bother,” she said and blinked.

She had guessed correctly. The walls of the round room were made of tin. The low roof seemed to be some kind of thatching. Narrow beams crisscrossed the room where a ceiling would be. Lots of stuff hung from the beams by hooks: splayed woven baskets and cracked dried-out harnesses, two chairs without seats, several moth-eaten suits of clothes, assorted pots and pans all with dings and chips, and if that didn’t beat all—a chamber pot. With any luck it wouldn’t have a rusted-out spot in the bottom. All she had to do was figure out how to get it down.

“What if I lift you up and you unhook it?” she said to the dog.

The dog wagged her tail. She seemed eager to help.

“I was just funning you. That only works if you have thumbs.”

Stacked against the wall were several wooden boxes. Lilly eased the top one down. It wasn’t too heavy but it was awkward. She managed to get it to the floor. Lifting it was a different story, so using her legs for leverage, she scooted it until it was just under the necessary. Standing on top of the box, she unhooked the pot. From her vantage point she looked around the room. There was one door and two high-up windows on either side. One window was directly over the boxes. They reminded her of windows built in forts—windows designed to keep arrows out. She guessed that was one thing she didn’t need to worry about.

For now what she needed was privacy. Although she was about as alone as she had ever been, she felt as if the walls had eyes. She went back to the boxes and pulled the stack out from the wall at an angle, creating just enough room for a privy. That was pure relief.

Perusing the hanging closet, she looked for the lid to the thunder mug. There didn’t seem to be one. Maybe that was why the pot was here instead of still in use. After moving the box again, she took down a round basket missing a handle. Upside down it made a fine cover for the pot. The floor seemed kind of springy when she walked on it, like the floorboards were too thin. It was a good thing she was not overweight else she would have to balance on the joists.

The dog walked to the door and looked back as if to say, “You’re not the only one with a need, sister.”

“Silly,” Lilly said. “If I could open the door, you couldn’t climb down the ladder.”

But maybe she could open the door. She hadn’t even tried. She peeked through a crack where the frame didn’t quite match up to the door. There was nothing out there but trees. Below, she could see where tall weeds had been mashed down. It seemed like this place was not often used. The door didn’t have a knob but sported a carved handle. On either side of the door were metal pieces that were bolted into the doorframe. They looked like they would hold the piece of lumber that leaned against the wall. More than likely that was just like the one she had heard the man fix in place from the other side. Her heart sank, but she tried anyway, throwing all her weight against the heavy door until her shoulder was as sore as her knees. Like the narrow windows, the door was meant to keep things out—or in, as the case might be.

The dog pleaded with her eyes.

Lilly scavenged about. There was a stack of old newsprint tied up with string. She slid several sheets out and lined a spot for the dog.

The beagle just looked at her.

Lilly stood on the paper. “Come.”

The beagle stayed by the door. She rolled her eyes.

She made her voice sound stern. “Come!” she said and motioned to the paper.

The beagle ambled over and sniffed the fusty newsprint.

Lilly scooted the dog’s tail directly over some fellow’s faded picture. She stood right in front of the dog, not allowing her to step off the paper. “This is a perfectly fine lavatory. Haven’t you ever heard beggars can’t be choosers?”

Finally the dog got the picture in more ways than one. Looking as relieved as Lilly felt, the beagle went back to the puppy.

The puppy didn’t seem as active as Lilly thought he should be. She sat beside it on the dirty floor and looked it over. Its belly looked much better, but its little eyes were just slits. She wondered if that was normal until she remembered Jumbo and how hard it was for him to see the light. Besides, maybe the puppy didn’t want to know where it was any more than she did.

In a few minutes it would be full dark. It looked like they would be spending the night. Lilly wasn’t hungry anymore. Mostly she was thirsty and scared.

“I’m sorry,” she said when the beagle licked her hand. The dog’s tongue was as dry as hers. “We’ll do the best we can tonight. Daddy John will find us soon. You can bet on that.”

Why, Daddy might even come tonight. As soon as he got in from work, Manda would tell him Lilly had missed her ride. She was sure he would remember how much she liked to walk by the creek. That would be the first place he’d look.

When Daddy found the valise and picnic hamper on the rock wall, it would be just like Hansel and Gretel leaving the trail of crumbs on their way to the witch’s house. He would think she was a very clever girl, although she’d have to admit she hadn’t meant to leave such great clues.

He might get Mama before he came. Mama would have to wait until Mrs. Morton’s baby was delivered before she left. That was probably why they hadn’t come for her yet.

Her bottom was numb from sitting on the floor. She might as well make herself and the dogs comfortable while they waited. It might be morning ’cause Mama said babies often picked the middle of the night to make their way into the world. Lilly wasn’t worried even though she was probably in major trouble for leaving the porch in the first place. Oh, well, it couldn’t be worse than the trouble she was already in.

Looking up, she saw that the legs of the moth-eaten suits of clothes hung down far enough for her to reach. She jerked them down and made a thick pallet against the curving wall farthest from the door. She sat down Indian-style with her back against the tin. The mother dog lay at her feet. The puppy nuzzled and nursed.

Lilly determined to keep her eyes open all night. “I’ll teach you a bedtime prayer, puppy,” she said as tears dripped from her chin. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.” She said all her God blesses, not skipping or hurrying like she sometimes did. She blessed everyone she could think of, including the mailman and her favorite clerk at the dry goods store, the one who always saved her a peppermint stick. She prayed for Kate and asked God to spare her from the tooth-jumper. She prayed for all the animals and even the snake that lived in the rotten log by the creek.

Her voice grew as raspy as the locusts that had finally stilled for the night, but she kept on. It seemed to comfort the dog. Her eyes grew heavy like they were full of sand, and despite herself she fell asleep, still sitting.

She didn’t know how long she had slept when she heard the rusty door hinges protesting. It was dark, but a golden moon backlit the man who blocked the doorway with his head and chest. He set something on the floor. She didn’t dare to breathe. It seemed each noise he made was magnified by the darkness. She heard each one distinctly. The door closed. The bar dropped. The ladder thumped. The man swore. His heavy footsteps receded.

Lilly hugged her knees, then winced and let go. Maybe it would be best to wait until morning to see what he had brought. What if it was the dead puppies? She had dreamed of dogs frolicking in fields of wildflowers. Probably that was puppy heaven. Lilly was sure God saved animals too—she thought they were the least of these the Scripture mentioned. It lightened her mood to think so.

She tried to say the verse aloud, but her lips were too dry to form words. Maybe thinking the words was just as good. “Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”

Where was that Scripture in the Bible? It bothered her that she couldn’t place it. She should have paid more attention to her Sunday school teacher like Mama had told her a thousand times.

Her brain was foggy and she felt feverish. The words verily and inasmuch echoed from the round tin walls as if someone were chanting them.

Verily. Inasmuch. Verily. Inasmuch, she heard and decided the words were beautiful.

When she married, if she had twins like Mama did, she would name them Verily and Inasmuch.

The dog uncurled herself from around Lilly’s feet and stretched. She went to the door and woofed. Lilly could have cried. She didn’t have the energy to drag the animal to the paper again. The dog came back to her and nudged her arm.

Her legs felt like a swarm of sweat bees stinging when she tried to stand. It was dumb to sleep Indian-style. She lifted one foot and shook off the pins and needles, then did the other. She went to the paper. The dog went to the door. She pointed as if it could see her in the dark. The dog woofed and won. She’d have to carry or drag her to the piddling spot.

In the faint beam of moonlight filtering in around the doorframe, she could see the dog’s nose pressed up against a half-gallon jar. Water, it was precious water. She lifted the jar, unscrewed the zinc lid, and drank until she was nearly sick.

Squatting, she dribbled water into her cupped hand until the beagle had her fill. She wondered about the puppy—should she give him some? Deciding the mother dog had more sense than she did, she put the lid back on. The dog stood back and woofed again. At the beagle’s feet Lilly discovered a small package wrapped in paper.

“Potatoes and corn bread,” she said when she undid it. It was cold and smelled greasy. She wasn’t hungry anymore. “Let’s save it for breakfast.”

The dog begged. Lilly gave her some food, then wrapped the rest back up.

Having slaked their thirst, they joined the puppy on the pallet. Lilly lay down, but a button poked her in the back. She refolded the jacket so the buttons were inside.

Lilly felt much better. The man wouldn’t be giving her nourishment if he meant to kill her. He was trying to teach her a lesson. Well, he would find out she was a fast learner. Given a little time, she’d get herself and the dogs out of his hidey-hole. In the morning she would make a plan. Just as the beagle had shown her on the bank of the pond, there was always hope.