Read the first chapter:
Lottie
Thursday - March 19, 1925
With her arms crossed over her chest, Lottie stood alone in the Texas sun except for the granite angels and engraved stones of those gone before. A mockingbird protested at her from a nearby oak tree, but she didn’t notice. Slowly, she stooped down to a granite stone with the last name GARNER. Under the name, were engraved the words:
James Arthur - - 4-21-1895 to 2-11-1925.
A loving husband, father, and friend.
It had been a couple of weeks since she was able to come, and the weeds were creeping in. Her lips trembled but no words came out. At the base of the headstone, she jerked out the weeds as tears started to well up in her eyes.
After a few minutes, she was calmer. “James, I miss you so much. Every morning, I wake up and it feels like a terrible dream. I reach for you and then remember you are really gone. I don’t understand why this happened to us.” She continued to work on the weeds while her tears watered the soil.
“Everything was perfect. We had Alice. We were finally getting back on our feet with the farm after last year’s failed crop. I need you. I hate making decisions without you.”
Full of despair, Lottie sat back on her heels. As she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, she sniffled and stared off into the distance.
“I am at a loss of what to do, James. The farm is too much for me to run alone and I don’t want to move to Tupelo with my sisters. So, for now we’re moving to town. Harry found us a rent house close to him and Ethel, and I’ve sold our homestead to the Maxwells. They are a family here from Tennessee and want a small farm to start out. He gave me a fair price for it; I even threw in Dolly as part of the deal.” Lottie smiled, “But I didn’t warn him of how cantankerous she is. He can figure that out on his own.”
As was her unconscious habit, she tucked a stray blond wisp of hair behind her ear. The black dress she wore reflected the darkness of her days since her husband passed away of a sudden heart attack. From her pocket, she pulled a white handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. It had a J embroidered in dark blue on the corner. She had made it for James a few Christmases ago and kept it close to herself now. She stuffed it back in her pocket.
“I think Alice is going to be happy to be so close to her friends in Elomina. And having Harry and Ethel nearby will be such a blessing. Harry says it’s convenient to be close to everything and Alice can walk to school. He is busier than ever at the mill with new businesses and houses being built all the time.”
While she spoke, she dug a hole with a small spade that she had brought and planted a purple violet. Fussing with it, she pushed it deep on one side so it would grow straight. Satisfied, she nodded.
“There. I’ve had this in the kitchen window for a while, and now it will always be here with you.” Slowly, she stood up, brushed her hands off and stretched her back.
Quietly, she walked over to the wagon she had parked under an oak tree and lifted the lid of a picnic basket. Putting the spade inside, she pulled out a jar of water and took a drink. Going back to James’ grave, she poured the rest of the water on the newly planted flower.
“I better be heading back,” she said as she brushed imaginary dust from the top of the headstone. She pulled a few more weeds that were closer than she liked. “Harry is coming to get the rest of our stuff today and I’ve got a little more packing to do.” Straightening her apron, she tucked her hair back into her bun. Not wanting to leave, Lottie watched an ant crawl along the red dirt, carrying a seed twice its size.
“Alright then, I’m really going. I miss you so much, James. Some days, I do fine and others, I don’t think I’d get out of bed if it wasn’t for Alice. She is my constant joy. She misses you terribly - I often find her in the barn, spending time with the animals. She was always your little shadow.” Lottie swatted at a fly. “I pray moving to town is the right thing for us to do.” She picked up the jar and walked back to the wagon. Settled in the seat, she clucked the horse to head back to the farm.
Wells Cemetery was about a mile from her property and Lottie usually enjoyed the walk. But today she was pressed for time knowing her brother was coming so she brought the wagon. Plodding along at a steady gait, the horse kicked up copper colored dirt from the road.
On either side of her, Lottie looked at the fields on the way back to her farm. On the left side, was Shafer’s family homestead and they grew cotton, like she and James. The opposite side of the road was cultivated, tilled, and ready for corn that was tended to by the Townsend family. Just past them, the Miller’s had land growing cotton as well. All these families had helped her these past few weeks since James passed away by bringing food, tending to their livestock, and helping her manage their property. It was a small, rural community, but close and tight knit.
Pulling the wagon into the well-worn road to her home for the last time, the sight of their simple farm made her smile. The white house was small, but it had several windows and a nice front porch. James had put a new roof on it last summer. Behind the house sat the barn that contained Dolly the cow, some chickens, and all of James’s tools. To the right of the house, was her vegetable garden. It wasn’t large by any means but was sufficient for the three of them with some extra to share and preserve for winter. Beyond that, were the many fields that James had worked so hard – plowing, seeding, planting, watering, and tending for a large cotton harvest. The money they made selling cotton wasn’t much, but it had been enough to meet all their needs and get them through the winters. It was a hard life, but she had loved sharing and doing it alongside James for eight good years.
Parking the wagon in the barn, Lottie unhitched the horse and put him in his stall. She quickly brushed him and gave him a handful of grain.
“You be good for Mr. Maxwell.” She patted his neck and headed to the house, basket in hand.
In the ceramic bowl on the back porch, she washed her hands and wet a cloth to wipe her face and neck. Once inside the kitchen, she ate the last slice of pecan pie and looked around the room for anything she had forgotten to pack. Between bites, she placed a few dishes that had been her mother’s and a pot from the dish drainer in a box. Washing the pie dish, she dried it and added it to the crate. She used a small stack of dishtowels as cushion for a few more layers of plates until the box was full. Checking the drawers and cupboards and finding them all empty, she moved down the hall to Alice’s room.
For a girl of six, Alice had accumulated many treasures in her life. When she was leaving for school that morning, she had told Lottie, “Momma, it all must go to the new house. Promise me you won’t go snooping and throw anything away.”
In a drawer, she found small boxes holding collections of rocks, pressed flowers, and buttons. She gently stacked the assortment of Alice’s artwork from the walls into a box. They had already packed her clothes, so there wasn’t much left in her room. Humming softly, Lottie checked the remaining rooms in the house. Satisfied that she hadn’t forgotten anything, she went to the living room, sat in a chair, and waited for her older brother to arrive.
The emptiness of the room felt lonely and hollow to Lottie. The cheerful yellow wallpaper seemed to mock her as she sat alone. Lottie leaned back against the chair, watching for Harry, and looked around the empty room.
Living room, she thought. There is no life in it now. Not anymore. The sunlight streaming in the front window only highlighted the dust particles floating in the air and the emptiness of her heart. This is not what I had planned. The lack of sleep showed in her pale face and in the dark circles under her blue eyes.
The sound of a slamming door jerked Lottie back to the present. Peering out the window, she saw a man climbing down from a large truck with PINE RIVER LUMBERMILL on the door. Harry was a tall, stout man with the same blond hair and blue eyes as his sister. His tan arms told that his occupation at the mill kept him outside working when he should have delegated the task. From under a worn straw hat that was tattered and sweat stained, Lottie could see his old corncob pipe sticking out that Ethel hated so much.
Opening the front door, she stepped onto the porch and raised her hand in greeting.
“Hiya Sis.” Gently, Harry smiled at his younger sister. Startled by how vulnerable she appeared in the open doorway in the black dress and mourning armband, he longed to hug her close and tell her it would all turn out fine.
“Let’s getcha loaded up. I brought some help,” he said with a nod over his shoulder. Behind him stood Travis, a foreman at Harry’s mill and his right-hand man.
“Hey Ms. Lottie, uh…I’m here to help Harry.” Not knowing what to say or do, he stood with his feet pressed tightly together, his hat crumpled in his large hands.
Lottie released him from his awkward shyness by thanking him for coming and directing them inside to the rooms of furniture and boxes.
While they loaded her belongings in the truck, Harry told her, “Ethel’s planning on you and Alice joining us for dinner.” Checking his pocket watch, he paused to swipe his brow with the back of his hand.
“Oh, she didn’t have to do that. I don’t want her to have to do extra on our account.” Lottie’s voice fell away at the end.
At the bottom of the porch steps, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick, gentle hug. “You ain’t a bother, Lottie. We’re looking forward to having you and Alice so close. It’ll be good for all of us, you’ll see.”
Agreeing, Lottie climbed the steps and examined the house one last time while Harry and Travis loaded the last of her things into the mill truck. In the kitchen, she fought back tears remembering a night when James had grabbed her by the arm to dance while she was washing dishes. Suds had splattered all over the floor and on his light gray shirt, but he had only laughed, spinning her around in the small space.
She carefully double checked the bedrooms and noticed the dashes on the door frame where James had proudly marked Alice’s height every birthday. Washed in a wave of sadness, she rubbed her fingers lightly over the lines. Although she felt like crying, she steeled herself by whispering, “One day at a time. Just make it through today.”
The rocking chair that James made her several years ago was the final piece of furniture that Harry tied down on the truck. Shutting the front door behind her, Lottie took a deep breath as she slid in the middle of the truck seat and straightened her hat.
“I can hold that last box in my lap. It’s not heavy,” she said, pointing to a lone box sitting on the porch.
“I got it, missus.” Travis retrieved the box and slid in beside her, balancing it in his lap.
As he walked over to the driver’s side, Harry gave everything a once-over. “You all good?” Lottie nodded and he started the truck.
As they drove down the dusty driveway, Harry saw her brave face out of the corner of his eye. “I know it’s hard, sis. It’s one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. But you gotta plot a new course. Just because something is different doesn’t mean it’s going to be bad.”
Pasting on a cheerful smile, Lottie said, “I know. I’m doing good. Alice and I are going to be just fine.” She took a deep breath and looked through the dirty windshield, hoping her words sounded like she believed them.
With the windows cracked for air, the engine and road noise made conversation difficult. A cloud of red dust rose up behind the truck as it hastened to Elomina. When Harry saw a man with a bag slung over his shoulder walking on the side of the road with a dog, he weaved the loaded truck to the opposite side.
The man covered his mouth with a handkerchief and gave a small wave of gratitude to the truck as it passed. His dog squinted in the wave of dust and dirt that pelted him but kept moving forward. Bolstering his bag higher on his back, Sam and his dog plodded down the road at a steady pace.
Not bothered at all, Sam watched the tall grass on the side of the road move like waves in the wind. The sky was clear, dotted with a few clouds. Sam had lived in Texas his whole life and made do by working hard ever since he ran away from the orphanage at thirteen.
He had heard from a vagrant on the train that Elomina had grown so much recently, it was like the town exploded overnight. With so many pine trees in this area, sawmills were popping up all over to handle the demand for lumber. That usually meant families coming to an area who would need help with their farms. As a migrant worker, Sam’s income was as unpredictable as the location of his employment. He went where large ranches needed help and then moved on when the task was completed. Sam had no home, no family, no traditions or possessions, and no one to notice when he took his last breath on earth, except maybe his dog.
Checking his watch, Sam picked up the pace to make Elomina before sunset. If there wasn’t any work there, hehad decided to head on to Fort Worth. He knew he could find work there, but the idea of living in a big city didn’t settle right with him.
As he and his dog traveled on foot, Sam flushed out a covey of quail in a field. Barking, his dog darted off after them as the birds ascended to the sky.
“You gonna catch us some dinner, Red?” Sam chuckled as the dog came trotting back, tongue wagging.
Some of the fields he passed were empty, but the soil was freshly turned, showing that something new was coming. Sam liked this area; he hoped it was good to him.
