Chapter 4

Armed with a map and an address, Sierra set off to enroll the children in school. She missed a turn and got lost. By the time she found what she was looking for, she and the children had seen North Hollywood, a portion of Studio City, eaten at a McDonald’s, and toured most of Sherman Oaks and San Fernando Valley. They arrived and entered the school building just as the bell rang to end the day.

Children poured out of classrooms and filled the hallway. The cacophony of squeaking tennis shoes, friends calling to friends, and the general rush for the buses assaulted them. Carolyn clutched frantically at Sierra’s hand as they went against the flow, while Clanton plowed ahead and led the way to the main office.

A secretary greeted them. She was polite, but cool, clearly tired and ready to go home. “Fill these out,” she said briskly and went in to speak with the principal. Returning, she informed Sierra that Clanton would be in Mr. Cannon’s fourth-grade class and Carolyn in Mrs. Lindstrom’s third grade.

“Both teachers have after-school meetings today, so you’ll have to wait to meet them until tomorrow morning. School starts at eight thirty.” The secretary turned the forms around and looked them over. “Kling Street,” she said. “That’s only a few blocks from here.” Sierra’s face went hot with humiliation at the disclosure.

“We have a list of parents who take turns walking their children to school each day.”

“I’ll be driving mine,” Sierra said, unwilling to entrust her children to anyone. Clanton groaned expressively, and she gave him a quelling look.

Back in the car, she sat studying the map before starting the engine. She didn’t want to get lost again and end up in Watts this time.

Alex laughed when she told him about it. “I wondered where you were,” he said. “I called twice today and got no answer. I was afraid you’d packed up and gone back to Windsor.”

She didn’t think his remark amusing.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “My first trip down here, I had an appointment in Burbank. I got on the wrong freeway and ended up in Agoura. It’s not hard to do.”

His words were hardly comforting.

They went to Steven’s house for dinner. Alex’s new boss had even made arrangements for a professional babysitter to look after Clanton and Carolyn. She came complete with references and a list of classes in first aid that she had completed at Northridge.

Alex found his way to their Sherman Oaks home without difficulty. Steven answered the door and ushered them into a spacious, elegantly decorated living room. His wife, Audra, was perfectly charming and courteous, but Sierra felt an undercurrent of disdain that nullified the show of warmth and hospitality. Audra wore a fine, lacquered veneer of friendliness, leaving Sierra to wonder at what lay beneath the flawless surface.

Alex seemed perfectly at ease with both of them, making Sierra wonder if she was imagining the crosscurrents and undertow. But within the course of the first ten minutes of conversation, she knew it was not her imagination. Somehow Sierra had been made fully aware that Audra was a graduate of USC who had studied—and mastered—liberal arts and who had been a member of one of the more prestigious sororities.

Then Audra turned her perfect, elegant gaze on Sierra and asked where she’d gone to college. It was the first time in Sierra’s life that she was embarrassed to admit she had only graduated from high school and finished a year at a secretarial college.

“Oh,” Audra said, looking utterly taken aback. There was a brief, mortifying lapse in conversation, until Steve jumped in.

“Do you like the theater, Sierra?”

“I haven’t been to many plays.”

“What have you seen?” Audra inquired, her eyes lighting with interest.

“Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat,” she said, not telling Audra it had been a high school production. “And a few concerts,” she added, which was true—in just the last six months she’d gone to a country western concert and to hear a few Christian singers who had visited local Santa Rosa churches. Of course, she didn’t think Audra needed to know the details.

And yet, even without the details, the other woman laughed. “Well, we’ll have to correct that. Los Angeles has a great deal of culture to offer.”

Sierra felt like a country bumpkin.

While the men talked business, Audra gave Sierra a rundown of the current cultural events. It seemed she had attended every major play and concert in the area and had a critique for each one. She quickly reviewed every theater company and artist currently performing, until Sierra wondered if she was dining with a normal woman or with some odd, sophisticated, upper-class incarnation of Siskel and Ebert.

Dinner proved spectacular. Any critic of fine cuisine would have given Audra a ten-star rating. She accepted all compliments with an air of casual amusement, skillfully turning the discussion to restaurants. Audra knew all the finest. She also knew where to shop for the highest quality meats, vegetables, and fruit. Prices never came up.

Sierra glanced at Alex and saw he was impressed with everything—especially with Audra. Was that the kind of wife he wanted now? Depressed, she ate the fluffy spinach soufflé. It melted in her mouth and made her heart sink into her stomach. What on earth was she going to serve these people for a reciprocal dinner? Her specialty was meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Oh, that would go over big! Or perhaps Clanton and Carolyn’s favorite: tuna casserole. There was a meal custom-designed to impress high society!

“You were pretty quiet tonight,” Alex said on the drive home.

In her mind, she had been busily packing and moving back to Windsor. She didn’t appreciate his interruption of her daydream.

He didn’t seem to notice. “Audra was trying to make you feel welcome.”

“Is that what she was trying to do?” she snapped, surprised herself at the coldness in her tone.

Mouth tightening, Alex stared straight ahead, the headlights from the oncoming traffic casting a glow over his handsome features. “She was offering to take you under her wing.”

“I’m not a chicken.”

“Give it a break, Sierra. She grew up down here. She could show you around.”

“I’ll remember to thank her properly next time, but I’ll find my own way around, thank you very much. You gave me a map, remember?”

“A lot of good that did. At least try not to get lost again. I won’t have the time to come find you in the middle of the day.”

They didn’t say another word to each other for the rest of the drive home. In fact, they said very little to one another over the next week. Alex left early, came home late, and always brought work with him. They shared a perfunctory “How’d your day go?” “Fine. And you?” “Fine”—and then he would settle in front of the television, studying the papers he spread out over the coffee table while she cleaned up the dinner dishes, saw to the children’s baths, read them stories, and tucked them into bed.

It was a perfect life—for someone who adored misery.

Ten days and four telephone calls to her mother later, Sierra received a package in the mail.

“What’s this?” Alex said, picking up a worn leather book from the coffee table before he spread his work across it.

“It’s a journal. Mom sent it as a housewarming present.”

He handed it to her.

“It looks old.”

“It is,” she said warmly. “It belonged to an ancestor of mine. Mary Kath—”

“Mm-hm,” he replied absently, cutting her off as he turned to concentrate on the papers spread out in front of him. “That’s nice.”

Hurt swept over her at his casual dismissal. It shouldn’t have surprised her that he wasn’t listening. He seldom listened anymore. All that mattered to him was his precious work.

She left the room in bitter silence. She entered the bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the light. Enough light filtered through the window for her to see. Besides, the darkness fit her mood better. She prepared for bed, then slipped between the cool sheets. As she turned on her side, the journal, which she’d laid on the bed stand, caught her eye. She reached for it, fingering the soft leather wistfully.

At least Mary Kathryn wouldn’t mind spending some time with her.

Mama says livin in the wildurnes aint no resun to bee ignurant.

Her papa wuz a larnud man and wud not want fuls in his famlee. The preechur brung buks and jurnals to rite in frum Ant Martha and now with snow up to the windows, we got time. Papa sits by the fire smokin and Mama reeds to us frum her Bible.

Matt dont like to rite much. He draws wulfs with big bludy dripin fangs that giv me nitmars. He drew me a hair once. I stil got it hung up over my bed. It iz nis. I wish he wud draw birds and flouerz stead of wulfs. He only seen one wulf his hol lif and it was ded. Magots wuz eting it.

Lucas does not draw nor rede nor rite. He says Papa dont no how an he dont need to neether. Papa tuk him to the wud shed fur sasing Mama, but he wernt no better wen he cum bak. So Papa giv him the gun and told him to go huntin. He wuz gon three daz. Mama wuz sure he got kilt by injuns or a bar, but he cum bak dragin a dear on a palot fixt up. Papa laft and gav him a cup of rum. Mama was mad as a wet hornet, but she dont tel Lucas to rede or rite no more.

Dearest Mary Kathryn,

Please practice spelling the following words and then write an essay using them. I love you and have grand hopes for you.

Mama

living journal life whole read choice

dead learned wolf/wolves come journal

back flower

If you want to be learned, you got no choice. You got to read and write your whole life until you are dead. You can not be a wolf or a flower who jest enjoys living. You got to come back to the table and werk in your journal until yer fingers is crampt and aking.

just cramped your are work aching

Stubbornness is unbecoming to a lady.

“Spring”

Spring is the time when snow melts and flowers come up. Papa and Matthew plow them under and I have got to go to the wuds to pik some. I like to pik flowers in the wuds but Mama worrees I mit get took by injuns. One come to the house once askin fur food. Mama give him sum and I aint seen him since. I gues he didnot think much of her cookin.

Spring is also wen Matt turns the dirt in Mama’s vechtable gardin. Every wurm he turns up I put in a kan fur fishin. I like catchin fish but I hate eatin em. Lucas told me he new a boy who chokt to deth on a fish bone. Mama said he wuz foolin me but I aint et fish since.

Papa says spring is a time for courtin. I askt him wat courtin wuz and he said it is when a yung mans blud comes up like sap in a tree. Wen I askt him what he ment, Mama giv him her look and he laft and wud not tell me. I askt Matt later but he turned red and wud not say. Lucas said courtin was wen Papa took the cow over to Graysons bull. Matt told him to shut his dirty mouth and Lucas hit him in his and Papa come runnin to stop them before they kilt each other. I am more and more interested in what courtin is.

Spring is wen the preecher comes and stands on a stump and screeems holy murder at us. He yells about GAWD and SALVATION and the BLOOD OF CHRIST. Peepull come from all rownd to see him. He gits so wurkt up his face turns red as fire. Frum up or down I aint sure witch. Mama says he is zelus for the Lord. Papa says he is plum crazy. But every tim he comes we go and watch with every one else. He is the best entertanmunt a rownd.

We always end up at the river with the preecher washin peepul clean of sin and buryin them and razing them up with Jesus. Mama says amen and creyes every time someone gets dunkt and Papa comes bak from the wuds smellin of whiskey and tobako.

Mama and I plant corn and squash and turnups and carots. Mama gave me a handful of seeds and askt me what I saw and I said seeds. She askt if they looked alive and I said they looked like stones. She said that is rit but when we bury them they will grow and bar frut. I said they will bar squash. She said when you plant a seed, God will soften it and water it and make it grow. She said people are like that.

Old Schmidt died last summer and they planted him but nothing come up that I can see cepting weeds. Lucas said worms ate him. So I reckon that is why.

“The Well”

The well is very deep and very dark. It is cool when you first go down but if you stay it is cold. The walls are wet and slimy and you can hear dripping. When you look up you can see a circle of blue sky unless Lucas puts the cover over. Then you dont see nothing. You just hear yourself screaming all around you. Lucas took the cover off and called down that I was a bludy coward. I hollared back up I wasnt. He said prove it and put the cover back. I sat in the bucket all day so he’d know.

Matt found me when he tried to get a bucket of water for Papa. He looked down and said what in hades are you doing down there. Mama is going crazy looking for you. Thinks injuns stole you. He hollared he had found me and Mama come running thinking I wuz drowned. My backside had no feeling and was stuck fast in the buckt. It hurt bad when Papa popped me out. Lucas was leaning against the house laffing. I yelled I aint no coward. No, you are a fool he said.

Papa took him to the wood shed and Mama cried and took me in the house. She made me sit in the tub of hot water and drink whiskey. I dont see what Papa likes about it. It burns all the way down and then comes right back up.

Dearest Mary Kathryn,

Please practice these words on your slate until you are ready for me to test you. Use ten in an essay. And do not ask anyone else about courting.

I love you,

Mama

Go witch/which people worry/worries

zealous Indians woods garden

choked liked laughed asked

death pick when might

from some/sum wood/would catching

running washing raising cooking

God loves zealous people in the woods. He might love some Indians. Mama loves washing, cooking, and raising chikins.

Mary Kathryn McMurray,

You will have no supper until you write chickens twenty-five times on your slate, and “A penitent heart is a humble heart” fifty times.

Mama