May 1, 1932. Mama sent us young’uns to church today, but she had to stay home because she is afraid to leave Daddy for very long. Preacher Miller is better now, and back in town, so he has taken over preaching again. He gave a pretty good sermon, but it was not half as good as Miss Weston’s. She always makes the Bible make sense, and makes it come to life. Preacher Miller talks about things I do not always understand.
We did not go to Pap-pa’s house for dinner, but they came over here with food so we would not have to cook. Mrs. Carlton and Darlene came with them. It is hard for them to get over here every day, but they do manage it most days. Mrs. Carlton has taken her goats over to Pap-pa’s and she and Miss Janey Jo bring milk over to Sapphire nearly every day. They cook enough dinner to last us through supper and breakfast so Mama does not have to do anything but take care of Daddy and help out in the field when he sleeps.
Uncle Woodrow is still very shaky, but he acts a little better. It seems that he is trying very hard to be strong. At dinner, when we were saying the blessing, he held Mrs. Carlton’s and Darlene’s hands, and he takes pains to take care of Daddy when he can. He also is working very hard in the fields.
Daddy is doing a little better. He can move his hands and legs, and he can swallow food if somebody feeds him, but he cannot move his arms. One is too broken up and the other just will not move. The whole side of his body is all twisted up. He cannot speak, either, but sometimes when he sees us, he will cry out the most awful sounds and try to move toward us. Mama says we can cuddle up with him for a little while, but when we do, he cries and makes those sounds again, and water runs out of his eyes. It is hard to look at him when he is this way.
May 2, 1932
My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class
By Pearl Wallace
My father has an automobile, although with the Depression on, it is hard to find parts to keep it running. We all used to pile into the back (it is a truck with an open bed), and Daddy would careen up those mountain roads just as fast as it would go. There is a place over by Big Gully that has a little hill, then a dip, and when he goes over that fast, we all fly up in the air, and we have to hang on tight to keep from falling out! It is a great deal of fun to go over the Big Gully hill fast, and we always beg him to go as fast as he can so we can go aflying. When we come down again, it feels as if our stomachs have stayed up for a second or two. It is a wonderful feeling.
Daddy is stove up right now, so I guess we will not be going over the hill at Big Gully for a while yet. I wish we could. Back when we were doing it, I never thought that there would come a time when Daddy could not drive. I wish I had paid more attention to how fun it was then.
May 3, 1932. Mama made all of us go to school. She says we are done planting sweet potatoes but that we will start planting corn with the new moon this week, and she wants us all to get our lessons to bring home so we can work on them in between planting. She wants to put in an extra large crop of corn this year. This did not make sense to us at first because it is pretty clear that Daddy will not be stealing any to make whiskey, so we probably can get by with planting less. When Jasper questioned her about it, though, she said she plans to make cornbread and sell it down at the highway. I have never heard of anybody wanting to buy cornbread, but Mama knows more about that than we do.
May 4, 1932. Miss Weston is working us hard. She does not even let us take a recess, and she makes us work while we eat our dinner. She says I do not have to turn in my Journals for the rest of the year, which is a big relief. I cannot think up good things to write, that sound like my life is normal, anyway.
Mama makes us work on our lessons from the time we get home from school until now, and it is nearly 10 o’clock.
May 5, 1932. It is the new moon, so we planted corn all day. After supper, Mama made all of us study, even Jasper. I am so tired I cannot hardly move. Mama looks wrung out, but she smiles at us when she looks at us.
Old Al Capone went to prison yesterday. I feel the smallest bit sorry for him. I know how easy it is to get lured into a life of crime. Since Daddy is too sick to drink his whiskey, I am selling all I can. I sold Jake Hatton a whole quart yesterday, and I reckon I will sell it until it is all gone. With Daddy not working, we sure will need the money. I am glad I still have my hair money underneath the floorboards in the living room.
May 6, 1932. Something good happened today, but at the same time, it is not good. Hank Delany was arrested for setting fire to Billy Ray’s house, and there may be other arrests. Mama, Uncle Woodrow, and Mrs. Carlton are very worried about that. If this goes to trial, I will be called to testify since I am the main witness. Jasper will be called as well, and so will Darlene. If a jury gets a good look at Darlene, things may not go well.
Daddy cries every time one of us goes into his room. Beryl sang to him today, and he let out such a wail that it scared her and she quit. Then he cried even louder so she had to start up again.
I do not know what we are going to do. I do not think that Daddy is ever going to get better. If he cannot work, we will go back to trying to scratch out a living from this farm. That means Jasper and Sardius will not be able to go to that fancy boarding school in Chicago.
May 7, 1932
My dearest sister,
I have spent the last week reflecting on my sins and my ambitions, and I have come to realize that I should have accepted Jonathan’s offer of marriage last fall when he made it. At that time, I was so infatuated with this place and with the idea that I was going to improve the lives of my students and their parents that I rejected him out of hand. Now I am reflecting on what a good man he is and always has been, and I so wish I could take back my cruelty to him. He has suffered through my manipulations, my scorn, my inability to see his goodness. I am not even sure I have properly thanked him for sending all those supplies and money to help me. What kind of woman treats such a loving man that way?
Do not tell him I have made these confessions to you, and do not tell Mother and Father, either. I have to deal with the heartache brought on by my own arrogance all by myself. Thank you for at least letting me share my shame with you. You are a good sister, and I love you.
Emily
May 7, 1932. Miss Weston showed up early this morning, just as we were going out to the cornfield. Mama called us back in and set us down at the kitchen table. Miss Weston looked very pretty and fresh next to Mama, who is so worn out you can almost see through her. Her hair is flat and dingy, and even though she smiles a lot, there is no sunshine in it. It is as if she is just stretching her lips out away from her teeth while her eyes look like the eyes of a trapped animal. We all see it, but no one says anything.
Miss Weston folded her hands on top of the table and said, “Jasper, your mother tells me you could pass the final exams for the tenth grade. I want you to come to school with the others next week and take those exams. I expect you to be going to Chicago with your brother next month and begin your studies.”
We all were flabbergasted. There is no way Mama can do without Sardius and Jasper with Daddy laid up so bad. Both boys shook their heads.
“No, Ma’am,” said Jasper. “Sardius can go, but Mama needs me here to tend to the crops this summer. I am going to run the farm from here on out.”
“Me, too,” said Sardius. “I want to be a farmer. I have made up my mind.”
Mama laid her hand on Jasper’s shoulder. “No, honey. Both of you are going to go to Chicago with Miss Weston. I am confident you will do very well on your exams. You do not need to be worrying about me or your Daddy or this farm. We will make do.”
“But Mama!” they both said at once.
She held up her hand. “I am not arguing about this. It is settled, and that is that.” And then she poured Miss Weston a cup of coffee and started talking about the weather, as if she did not know that we had sacks and sacks of corn waiting to be planted, Daddy was lying helpless in the bedroom, and she had a family to feed and no way to feed them. I could not help but to speak up.
“Mama, your hair money won’t go that far, and…”
She cut me off. “Pearl, you will not contradict me. Now, Uncle Woodrow and your pap-pa are already out in the field, and they are expecting you to help them. Go,” and she shooed us out the door. I think Mama has taken leave of her senses.
May 8, 1932. We planted all day today, so we missed church, but we left off for dinner. Miss Janey Jo, Mrs. Carlton, Pap-pa, and Darlene came over with food. It would have been a nice time, but we are still all so sad about Daddy and so tired from working that we did not have it in us to do more than eat before we went back out to plant more corn. We have 6 acres planted already. I do not understand Mama. Not only do we have to plant all day on a Sunday, but she makes us keep up with our lessons. We all are about to drop in our tracks.
May 8, 1032
My dear Jonathan,
How I wish you could be here with me today, to see the glories of this beautiful spring day! I would take you walking along the river so you could see the otters frolicking amid the spray, the bluebirds feeding their young in the hollow trees, and the white clouds foaming above our heads, flirting with the sun. It would be magnificient to talk to you, to show you all the secret, delightful places I have discovered during my time here, and if I may be so bold to say, talk about my feelings for you. It has taken me a long time to understand how much you mean to me, and now I hope to make up for it. I had to be dashed upon the shoals to clear my head and realize how perfect you are. I should thank my mother for having seen it so much sooner than I did.
I will be home in less than three weeks! I can hardly wait! I do hope you will receive me with kindness.
With fondest regards,
Emily
May 9, 1932. Miss Weston is giving us the rest of our Spring break this week. We are taking the whole week off, even though we really have only 3 days left on it, but she says we will go a little later in the year to make up for it.
We started out planting early, but then somebody from the court came by to talk to me. Mama kept him in the house for a long time before she sent Ruby out to fetch me. I reckoned she wanted to make sure he was on the right side before she let him ask me any questions. As soon as I came in, she sent Uncle Woodrow over to Pap-pa’s house to fetch Darlene and Mrs. Carlton. He took the wagon and was back again in under an hour with them. Mrs. Carlton had a cooked goose with her, which we were mighty glad to see.
By the time they got here, I had already told the fellow my side of the story. He asked Darlene the same questions as he asked me, and she backed me up right down the line. Mrs. Carlton put in her two cents. We all agreed as to exactly what happened. Then Mama called Jasper in, who told what he saw, and that was about all there was to it.
After the man left, I got to thinking. Hank Delany might could get the electric chair for killing Billy Ray Carlton. That set me back on my heels. Hank is a mean S.O.B., but we all know good and well he had nothing to do with Billy Ray’s death. The more I thought about it, the more it made me realize that it would be a terrible sin to let an innocent man die for something he did not do. I was just poking a hole in the ground to put in a piece of corn when it hit me about what we might be guilty of, and all of a sudden, it felt like the whole earth started to shake. My knees gave way, and I just started to sob, and I could not stop myself. I laid down in the dirt and cried and cried. Mama came running to me and gathered me up in her arms, but I still could not stop. Finally, Uncle Woodrow came, picked me up, carried me back to the house, and laid me on the couch.
After Mama brought me water and held me for the longest time, I was finally able to get ahold of myself enough to explain that I was ascared we might cause an innocent man to go to the electric chair! It scared me to death to think about it. Jesus would never in all eternity let us get by with that, and even if He did, I do not think I could let myself get by with it. I do not want Uncle Woodrow to go to the electric chair, either, and I just do not know what we could do about it.
Mama shushed me. “Pearl, honey,” she said. “You do not need to worry about that. Hank Delany is the first cousin of the judge in Madison County, and it is likely that the judge himself is a member of the clan. Nobody is going to the electric chair. We just have to make sure everybody believes that Billy Ray died in a house fire, and to do that we have to make them believe that the clan set that fire. They will be looking for any way out of this that they can, and if they get the least suspicion that your Uncle Woodrow was there that night or that Mrs. Carlton might have had something against her husband, then they’re going to find a way to point the finger at them. You just have to trust me. They will find a way to get Hank Delany off. They probably will call it an accident, or someone will give him an alibi. They won’t let one of their own be found guilty. If by some crazy chance they do, we will find a way to make them doubt what happened. Believe me, honey. I won’t let anything happen.” Then she wrapped her arms around me and laid me down on the couch. She brought me more water and a wet washrag to put on my forehead, and then next thing I knew it was suppertime and everybody was filing in to eat. Darlene sat on the couch with me and held my hand until I felt like getting up.
May 10, 1932. I do not know what is wrong with me. I feel like the world is a heavy place to be. It is all I can do to get out of bed of a morning. Mama does not let me go out to the field with the others, but just coddles me and puts a book in my hand and tells me to read. Darlene came by, but I did not want to play with her, either. I just want to stay in bed and sleep.
May 10, 1932
Dear Jonathan,
You are such a treasure! After all I have done and said to you, I find it hard to believe that you still want me. I feel very comforted by that, but I must tell you, dear Jonathan, that I have changed a great deal since I have come here. I am not the same society-loving girl who left last August. Now, I have come to realize that the world is a broken place, that people are broken, that good people will suffer, no matter how good our intentions are. Still, I feel I must do all I can to help alleviate that suffering.
I will not say that I do not want to marry you. I just cannot look that far in advance. At this time, the only thing I can think of is how I can get my special, gifted children away from the poverty and despair that faces them in this place. I have you to thank that Jasper and Sardius will be attending Wheaton this summer, but I still have to find a place for Pearl, their sister. She is precious, Jonathan! So smart, so wise beyond her years, so kind hearted and innocent, and facing such hardships as you cannot imagine. She will be ready for high school in a year, and she is far too young to be going to a boarding school, even if her brothers are there. She is very close to her mother and sisters, and I believe it would be cruel to put her in an institutional environment at her tender age. She has never been out of the mountains of East Tennessee. The culture shock alone would be enough to undo her!
I beg you to counsel me. I realize now how much I love you, and I truly want to marry you, but I cannot ask you to wait until I have got Pearl sorted out and on her way, nor can I ask you to include her in your life, to raise a child not your own. But my mind is made up. I cannot marry until I have brought Pearl into a loving and comfortable home. Tell me what to do. Is it possible we could find a home suitable for Pearl, good people who will take her in and give her a sense of family? If we could, she could attend school with her brothers and still feel safe. Please tell me what to do! And please forgive me for my willfulness.
With fondest regard,
Emily
May 11, 1932. I wish Daddy would get better.
May 12, 1932. Darlene came to see me today, but I did not want to play with her. I feel bad because I am too weak to go help with the planting. Mostly I sat by Daddy’s bed and watched him sleep. When he woke up, I listened to him cry. Oh, Lord Jesus! Make him better! I am sorry for ever wishing him dead. Please do not let them send Hank Delany or Uncle Woodrow to the electric chair. Please help Mama.
May 13, 1932. Poor baby Charles Lindberg was found dead yesterday. I am so sad I cannot stop leaking tears. Who would do that to a baby? They paid the ransom and everything, and still he was killed. It makes me want to sit down and give up on the human race. Beryl is begging me to go to the creek with her, but I just cannot get my legs under me.
May 14, 1932. Miss Weston came to see me today. She brought me some peppermint candy, and she went over some of my lessons with me. Exams begin in a week. I cannot remember anything. I keep thinking about Billy Ray lying in the fire with a knife in his chest, and then I think about Jasper’s hands. They are so rough and chapped that he has to hold his pencil funny. Mama’s hands are rough and chapped, too. Just when I find a way to think about something nice, I remember poor Charlie Lindbergh lying in his grave, and sometimes Daddy cries out, and it all comes back to me.
May 15, 1932. Mama got us all up this morning and made us go to church. Mrs. Carlton and Darlene sat with Daddy so Mama could go. Everyone came over for dinner at our house, even Miss Weston. She looks sad every time she looks at Uncle Woodrow, and I feel so sorry for her I want to cry again. Uncle Woodrow and Mrs. Carlton try not to look at each other when Miss Weston is around, but sometimes they cannot help it. It seems that the looks that pass between them sometimes are the only good things that happen.
Miss Weston says I do not have to turn in my Journal entry for tomorrow. I am glad about that. I cannot think of anything to write. All that comes into my head is how much everybody is hurting.
May 16, 1932. Even though we are supposed to be back at school today, we had not finished with the planting, so we stayed home one more day. I had planned to get out there early to start to make up for my laziness over the last week, but before I could get out the back door, Mama came, put her arms around me, and said, “I’m glad you have gotten your feet back under you. Let’s celebrate that by going for a walk.” That sounded good to me. It’s not often I get Mama all to myself.
We went down to the river. It was a beautiful morning. The river seemed extra swift, and the smell of honeysuckle was so strong it made my mouth water. Here it is the middle of May, the prettiest month there is, and I had not hardly noticed it. Mama joshed with me a little bit about missing out on so much prettiness. By the time we made it back to the house, I was feeling a whole lot better about everything.
Mama did not want me to, but I went out in the fields to help plant corn the rest of the day. We got it all done, and then we celebrated. Pap-pa, Janey Jo, Mrs. Carlton, and Darlene came over. We took food into Daddy’s room, and he looked at us without crying, and he even ate a little. He is able to move his arm a little bit. I think I saw him smile once with his eyes.
May 17, 1932. You will never believe what happened today. Mr. Dean came back! We were just getting out of school, and as we went out the front door, there he sat in his fancy automobile, waiting. We all ran over to him, and Sadie Maclean hollered at Miss Weston, “Your man is here!”
Miss Weston came out, and you should have seen her face! She just lit up all over, and then she laughed, turned red, and ran over to the car. Mr. Dean got out, and he held out his arms. I think he was hoping for a hug, but he did not get one. Miss Weston just took his hand and held it for a minute before she dropped it. Then she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Mr. Dean. How nice to see you, although I did not expect you. Have you come to visit the Aikens?” Mr. Dean laughed then, and picked up her hands and held them.
“Yes,” he said. “I was just there, and Mrs. Aikens has invited you and the Millers for dinner. Come on, I will take you home to get them so we can all go over there together.” Then he opened the door for Miss Weston, got in himself, and they drove off. Everybody cheered. It was just like a scene from a movie!
May 18, 1932
Darling Cecilia,
What a week it has been. Jonathan has paid me another surprise visit! This time was much better—he arranged to stay with the Aikens before coming to the schoolhouse to see me, and he graciously waited in his car until the end of the day, when I came out after school was dismissed.
As you can imagine, I was very surprised, especially since I gave him such a lecture the last time he drove down unannounced and uninvited, but this time it seemed much different, much more comfortable. I think he wanted to make a statement, that he is not afraid of me, and that he genuinely wants to marry me. To prove that, he drove all the way here as soon as he had gotten a letter from me telling him that I want little Pearl to come live with me in a year, in order to personally offer to open “our” home to her!
Cecilia, do you understand what I am saying? He wants to marry me enough that he is willing to take Pearl in and let her share our lives! What a generous spirit! What a loving thing to do! All of my prejudices against him have simply dissolved, and all I can think of is that I have been foolish and callous to put him off for so long.
There is more. I told him about Darlene, and although he has not yet met her, I explained her situation, and he generously offered to let her come, too! I hope he means it, and I hope he will not change his mind when he sees her, but I am oh, so hopeful. If Pearl has Darlene with her in Chicago, she will be so much more comfortable, and if Darlene has an opportunity to get an education, her horizons will be so much broader than any of us might imagine. Jonathan acts as if it will not be a problem to bring a mixed child into his home, especially when the home is going to be as large as he says it will be. He even suggested that I teach both girls at home for at least a couple of years
So, sweet Cecilia, I think what I am trying to tell you is that I am engaged to be married! Be happy for me. I am blissful! I am so in love with Jonathan at this moment, I find it almost impossible to wait. I cannot believe I actually spurned him for this whole year. He is a saint!
Love and kisses,
Emily
May 18, 1932. Our first day of exams was not that bad. I think I did better than I thought I would. The boys feel good about theirs, also. Beryl is the only one who is complaining about them being hard. I told Daddy all about them. He smiled at me with his eyes and made grunting noises like he was laughing.
Uncle Woodrow is not sleeping here anymore. I think he is sleeping over at Pap-pa’s place because every morning he brings Sapphire her goat milk.
May 19, 1932
Dearest Mother and Father,
I have some news that I hope will make you happy. Jonathan and I have set a wedding date for August!
The school term will be over next week, and I plan to pack up and leave by May 28. I will stop overnight to see Jenny Sunlee, and then will be home on the 29th or 30th.
I am very much looking forward to being home. It has been a wonderful year of serving the Lord, but now I am ready to resume my life with my family back in Chicago.
Much love,
Emily
May 20, 1932. We had our last exams today. Beryl cried because she thinks she failed hers. Both Jasper and Sardius act like they are happy. I know I did well.
The full moon is tonight. The Cherokee call it the full flower moon. I know Daddy will be looking at it and wishing he were out foxhunting. His hounds are already baying. They know they are supposed to be hunting tonight. Poor Daddy.
Something good happened today. Amelia Earhart left all by herself from Newfoundland, up in Canada in her little plane to become the first woman to make the same flight as poor Charles Lindbergh did five years ago. She will go to Paris, France. It took Lindy 33½ hours, and even though I feel sorry for him about his little baby being murdered, I hope she beats his record, just to show that women can do anything a man can do, and do it better! I hope this is not mean. Lindy is a good person, but so is Amelia Earhart, and she deserves fame, also. I am praying for her safety.
May 21, 1932. This morning, Mama told Jasper and Sardius to not even think about going out to the fields, but to spend the whole day hunting or fishing, whichever they chose. Pap-pa and Miss Janey Jo came over right after breakfast. Uncle Woodrow stayed at Pap-pa’s place with Darlene and Mrs. Carlton. I wanted to ask Mama if I could go with Jasper and Sardius, but before I got the chance, she said to me, “Pearl, why don’t you and I go for a walk? I have missed talking to you.” Beryl looked like she wanted to come, too, but she never leaves the house if she can help it during May and June. Being outside makes her sneeze so much it gives her a headache. Mama and I slipped out before Ruby even knew we were going.
I just love having Mama all to myself, and I hoped we could take a good, long walk because I wanted so much to talk to her about what to expect if Hank Delany has to stand trial and how she was so sure he would not get the electric chair.
She just said, “Don’t worry, Pearl. Hank is already a free man. There won’t be a trial, unless Celeste makes trouble about it, and of course she won’t. People would just as soon pretend nothing ever happened.” She stopped to smooth my hair down. “You look beautiful with your hair short,” she said before she looked out toward the river and added. “I think some good will come of this. Even though nobody is going to be punished for what they did, a lot of people around here don’t like what happened, and I doubt that those men will come back to bother Darlene or her mother again. Maybe people will think twice before they go butting into other folks’ business from now on.”
We walked alongside the river for a while, then Mama sat down on a rock. She patted the place beside her. “Sit down, sweetheart. I want to talk to you about something.”
I sat. I got a funny feeling going up my back. Mama had turned very serious.
“Pearl,” she said, “you know your brothers are going to go to Chicago in two weeks. It is very important to me, to them, and to all of us that they go. They have to get out of here, get an education, and make something of themselves. If they stay here, they will miss out on what the world has to offer. They will miss out on having a good life. Do you understand that?”
I did understand it, even though I was worried about how we would be able to make it without them to help on the farm, but I did not say anything. I hated to let Mama down by letting her know I could not even begin to make up for what Jasper or Sardius do, let alone both of them. Beryl cannot do a lick of work, especially in the spring.
Mama did not stop to let me say anything. “I have some news that may disappoint you. Miss Weston will not be back next fall. She wanted to tell you herself, but I thought I would give you some time to get used to the idea. She is getting married to Mr. Dean. I believe you met him when he came to visit her at the schoolhouse.”
“But Mama, I don’t want her to go!”
“I know, sweetheart. But I have some very good news. She wants you to go to Chicago, too. She and Mr. Dean have invited you to live with them. She will teach you at home until you are ready for high school. Even though I could teach you, I think it would be best if you went to stay with Miss Weston and had a chance to get a really good education.”
I felt panicky. “I can’t leave you, Mama!”
“Of course you can, my darling. I have Beryl, Ruby, and Sapphire to keep me company. And Daddy, and Uncle Woodrow, and Celeste. And you know what? Miss Weston also says she wants to bring Darlene to Chicago. She is a very bright girl, and she would be a lot better off up there than down here. You should know there is nothing here for her.”
“Mama, Darlene can’t leave her mama any more than I can leave you.” I was crying by then.
Mama laughed. “Darlene would be much happier in Chicago, and so will you. Did you know that Mrs. Carlton and Uncle Woodrow probably will be getting married?”
I nodded my head, not knowing what to say. I could not imagine either me or Darlene going to Chicago. I looked around me. “Do they have mountains there?” I asked.
“No, it is very flat. But they do have a river. And a big lake. It is very beautiful.”
I got to thinking about it. “Could I come home for Christmas and maybe for summer? And Easter? Or could you come see me?”
Mama drew a breath, and I noticed her blinking hard before she looked away. “I don’t know, my darling. My place is here, at least until Daddy gets better. And it costs a lot of money to travel. But you will be there with Miss Weston, Jasper, and Sardius. And, we hope, Darlene. That is almost like being home, isn’t it?”
I thought about it some more. Mama had gotten up with her back to me. She gazed out at the river for a few minutes before she turned to me with a big smile on her face.
“You don’t have to think about it too much for now, but I just want you to know that this is my plan for you. As bright as Jasper and Sardius are, you are my very smartest baby, and I know you will go far.”
In a way, it was tempting to think of going to live with Miss Weston and Mr. Dean in Chicago. I could imagine myself being there with Jasper, Sardius, and Darlene, but I knew it would be impossible. Mama could never make it without help.
“Mama,” I said, as nicely as I could. “You don’t have any money. I mean, you can have my hair money, but I don’t think Daddy is going to be able to go back to work. Without Jasper or Sardius to help you, you can’t run the farm by yourself. And who will help you take care of Daddy and the little girls? You need me too much to let me go.
Mama laughed. “So you think you will help me make enough to get by? How many customers do you have?”
I did not think I had understood her right. I just looked at her.
“Pearl, I know why Jake Hatton comes around the house. I know that Walt Bittertree and your Pap-pa get a little thirst now and then, and I also know your Daddy makes the best whiskey in the county. I would think that by now you would have at least a dozen customers.”
I was flabbergasted into admitting. “I don’t. I just have that one feller that Jake Hatton gets some for sometimes.” I was stammering. “How did you know?”
“I know more that you think I do. I am ashamed to say that I let you get by with it because we needed the money so badly. It was worth it to see you be able to get yourself new shoes for Easter. And I have to say, Pearl, that I am proud of how you spent your money on your family. You have a good heart.”
I cried then. I hated the thought of Mama being ashamed because of something I had done. She didn’t let me cry long. “Honey,” she said, “you may be breaking the law by trading whiskey, but sometimes the law is wrong. Especially when people are starving and the only way out is to sell something that people want and need. If the law is against it, then it is the law that is wrong, not you. I did not say anything because I knew Sardius would have trouble with it, and so would Jasper. Both of them see things in black and white, and they would be disappointed in their mother if they knew I let you get away with this. It’s going to be our secret, all right?”
I could not do anything but nod my head. She laughed, then tousled my hair, and she said, “Do you want to see how we are going to manage while you and Japer and Sardius are in Chicago making something of yourselves? Come here.”
She stood, turning up toward the bluffs above the river. I followed her all the way up to the old Indian cave, and then we picked our way past the entrance. Not far into it, Mama reached behind a big rock to pull out a lantern, which she lit, then walked on into the cave while I followed.
We walked several hundred feet, sometimes through passages that were so low we had to stoop down to make our way through. Finally, we came to a big room with a smooth floor. In the middle stood a gleaming copper still. Along one side of the room stood dozens of barrels and dozens of jars of whiskey. Right alongside the still ran a little creek. The ceiling was very high, and I could see little shafts of sunlight slanting down onto the floor and lighting the place up. The smell of caramel, whiskey, and smoke hung in the air.
“This is your Daddy’s still.” He does not know I know about it, and my guess is that he will never be back up here. He makes good, clean whiskey. He has a good recipe, and the water that flows through here is the best there is. His still is solid copper, welded with silver, so what he makes is about the best there is for moonshine. But Pearl, he does not make fine whiskey. Your pap-pa and I, well, we know how to make fine whiskey. He taught me how to make it when I was just a little older than you are.”
She pointed to the barrels and told me how they were oak and that the insides were charred. “Pap-pa just moved these up here this week. He has been saving them in his barn for years, but he never let your Daddy know about them because he knew he would drink it all up in no time.”
She told me how new whiskey tastes rough and nasty, but if you put it in charred barrels and let it stay there for a long time, it becomes smooth and almost sweet.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Pearl, or about how I will be able to buy food or even clothes for your baby sisters. Your pap-pa and I are going into business. He makes the finest barrels, and I can make a good mash and run a still. We can get by with selling new whiskey for now to people who want something cheap, but the real money will come in a few years when Prohibition is over and we can sell what has been sitting in these barrels for years. There will be nothing better than Wallace Tennessee Whiskey when the time comes. Now, come here, and I’ll show you.”
She pulled the cork out of one of the barrels. “You know what new whiskey tastes and smells like,” she said as she dipped a tiny dipper down into the barrel through the hole. “Now look at this.” She pulled up the dipper and showed me a beautiful amber liquid that smelled sweet, woody, and comfortable. She gave me a sip. It went down hot, and I nearly gagged, but I could tell what she meant. Despite the burn, it was rich and smooth. “This has been double distilled. Your pap-pa made it and put it in the barrel ten years ago. You’ll never taste a better whiskey.”
My mouth fell open. “But why would pap-pa buy bad whiskey from me when he had this?”
Mama waved her hand toward other barrels. “He was just storing it up in these to give it time to get good.” Then she laughed. “Pearl, I hope you never develop the kind of taste for whiskey that your Daddy did, but I do hope you come to appreciate how good this is.”
Then she asked me how long it would take me to get at least a dozen customers.
I have been thinking about it all day. It looks like maybe I will be going to Chicago after all.
May 22, 1932. Three things happened today. First of all, Miss Weston got to preach one last time. It was the best sermon I have ever heard on how God will sometimes lead us into scary places, but He always will be with us to guide us. After she preached, she did not have an invitational at all, but announced that Jasper and Sardius have both won scholarships to study in Chicago. She also announced that she would be leaving us to get married in August to Mr. Dean.
We all cried, but no one cried more than Beryl. She sobbed all the way home from church and then all through dinner. Miss Weston tried to cheer her up by saying that she could come and visit her in her new home, but Beryl would not be comforted. “You don’t understand,” she said. “You are teaching me how to be a better person, and you aren’t done yet!” I know what she meant.
The second thing that happened was that Daddy smiled with his mouth. It was a crooked smile. He still cannot speak but only makes grunting or moaning noises, but I know he knows me and can understand everything I say.
The third thing that happened is that we found out Amelia Earhart landed safely in Ireland yesterday. She had to crash-land, so she did not make it all the way to Paris, but she sure beat Lindy’s record. Only 15 hours! Half of Lindy’s time!
May 22, 1932
Dearest Cecilia,
I am all packed up. I am taking fewer things away than I brought with me, since I am leaving all my lesson material and books for the children here. They need it far more than I do!
In looking back over this school year, I am both hopeful and sad. It has been a hard year, much harder than I dreamed it could be, but I hope I have learned from it. I so look forward to being both mother and teacher to Pearl and Darlene, and I look forward to being a good wife to Jonathan. I love him even more now than I did before I came here. His steadfastness, generosity, and willingness to overlook my arrogance have made me realize how dear he is to me.
Overall, I like to think that my time here has been mostly successful in spite of my misinformed and misdirected intentions. I have loved these children, and I think I have been a good influence over them, if only in that I have taught them that God loves them. I have made some headway improving their lives, but I know I was foolish to think I had been accepted into the community and was “civilizing them!” Now I realize that my world and this one are so far apart that I can never even understand their needs. I feel ashamed when I think about what my hopes were.
I love you and miss you terribly,
Emily
May 23, 1932
My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class
By Pearl Wallace
This is the last Journal entry I will write. I know it is not required, but I want to turn in this last one as a gift to Miss Weston so that she can have it as a keepsake to remember one of her seventh grade students for the 1931-1932 school year.
I have learned very much from my teacher this year. I thought teachers were supposed to teach you things in books, but Miss Weston has taught me many more things than one can learn from books. She has taught me that knowing that God loves me does not mean that He will make my life easy. It means that He cares enough about me to be with me even when times are bad. Even when I do not get what I want, He gives me the strength and courage to get through it. He lets me see that maybe what I think I want is not the best for me and that maybe I should go ahead and let things happen and see the good that comes out of it.
Miss Weston has also taught me about what it means to love others, to respect them, and to let them do what they need to do even if it means that you cannot have what you want. She knows how to be happy for other people’s happiness. If we can find joy in the happiness of others, we will always know joy.
Last of all, Miss Weston has taught me that God’s Word is very big, so big that we cannot possibly know it all, and that we need to be as big as we can in order to try to live by ALL His rules. Even when we cannot live by or even understand all His rules, we can know we are pleasing to Him if we do our best to live out the number one and the number two rules that He has set out in His Word:
Love God and Jesus with all your heart, and love your neighbor as yourself.
Pearl Adeline Wallace
Warm, waxing days, spangled nights.
Blossoms perfume the air, green blankets the hills.
The great Orb slips into a waning Gibbous,
Letting me go--softly, gently.
I sigh with pleasure
As do my upright children, lying tender in the grass,
Watching Evil slip into the Shadows
To wait anew.
The Earth has turned.
I travel madly, joyously, without a care,
Watching all my children leap and stumble
Toward the glimmer.