I pump the pedal with my right foot and moisten my fingers, then hold them against the red, yellow, and blue bands in the middle. It screeches, and the notes waver in and out.
She smiles. “Keep your fingers steady. Try to use the same pressure on all of them.”
As I press a bit harder, the notes blend together. I wouldn’t call it music, but it’s a bit less painful to the ear. I try a few more notes and see why Martha’s frustrated. The piano is easier.
After one particularly screechy note, I laugh and step aside. “It would take a lot of work before I could play anything as pretty as what you were playing earlier.”
“It does take time. And that’s why, even after three months, I still have to twist Martha’s arm to get her in here.”
“But . . . Martha said she’s learning to play the armonica so that she can eventually take over. And just now . . .”
There’s a question in my voice, and Sister Elba smiles. “Why train her if she’s leaving? Well, I get to spend time with her in the lessons. I talk to her, try to get her to talk to me, and let her know she’s wanted here, even though she’ll never stay. I think it’s important to know you’re wanted, maybe even needed, don’t you? Gives you somethin’ to hold on to when you’re off in a strange place. Kinda like you are now, right, child?”
“Well, not really,” I say. “We’re both at the university in Athens.”
“But you’re not from these parts. There’s no Georgia in your voice. I traveled around a lot, back before the War, and I’m usually good at accents, but I can’t place yours at all. Your young man’s is a bit odd, too, and there’s definitely some Irish in there. But yours . . . yours is all mixed up.”
“My parents live near Washington, DC. They’re teachers. I’ve traveled a good bit.” And I probably learned half of my speech patterns from television and movies, but I don’t add that.
“Teachers! Well, that must be why I liked you right off. We left Georgia for Canada when I was a little girl. My family stayed up there after the fighting was over, but I came back south to teach with the Freedmen’s Bureau. Earl, the one your young man’s over talkin’ to right now? He’s one of the first men I taught to read and write. Of course, the government cut the money for those schools pretty quick. And there was still work to be done, so some of us set up God’s Hollow not long after. We had seventy-four people here at one time, but we’re growin’ old, and most of the kids don’t stay, although we do take in strays and orphans from time to time. I expect we’ll die off eventually and the trees’ll gobble the land up again. And that’s okay. All part of the natural order.”
A chill runs through me as I wonder how long it will take for the trees to reclaim the village after Saul takes things into his own hands. There’s nothing natural about what he’s planning, and while Sister Elba might not have many years left, those kids outside have their entire lives before them.
“Well, I’d better go over and join . . . Matthew and the others. Thank you for showing me the armonica, Sister Elba. It’s beautiful.”
“You are more than welcome.”
My hand is on the door when she speaks again.
“And, child?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Whatever that problem is that’s eatin’ at you, well, you seem like a smart enough girl. You’ll figure out how to fix it.”
“But what if it can’t be fixed?” I ask before I even realize I’m going to speak. “Or if I can’t fix it without hurting even more people?”
Sister Elba pauses to close the armonica case and then walks toward the steps, stopping a few short feet away from the bench where she will die. “People faced those kinds of decisions every day during the War and after. It’s a hard lesson in life, but you have to accept that some things are out of your hands. Otherwise, you’ll never know a single minute of peace. You mend what you can, and you let the rest go. You just let it go.”
I have to get out of here before I break down and tell her to pack everyone up and head back to Canada. I push through the door, relieved that the kids are no longer on the steps.
I set a stable point on the lawn in front of the church. Another near the side door. I start heading in the direction that Martha took Kiernan, setting two more stable points as I go.
And then I hear laughter off to the right. The twins and two other children are inside a large mesh pen behind the houses, with chickens running around their feet. The youngest is trying his best to pull up the wire so that he can get inside with the others, and Bull is running back and forth in front of the coop, barking at the chickens. They must be used to it, because they ignore him and keep pecking away in the muck.
Beyond the chicken coop, I see the well.
I duck between the two houses and hurry over, setting two stable points facing the stone well and one behind it. Then I move closer and set a final point directly above the opening. Anyone who arrived via this stable point would end up at the bottom of the well, but it’s the only way I can be sure we’ll see clearly if Saul tampers with their water supply.
“Hey.”
I jump, but it’s just Jackson. Or Vernon. The other twin is right behind him. They both smell a bit off, probably due to the brown gunk lining the hem of their overalls.
“Whatcha doin’?” one of them asks.
I decide to give them the simple, unvarnished—although admittedly not entire—truth. “I’m looking down into your well.”
“Why?” asks the other twin.
“Because I like wells.”
The first twin nods sagely. “Yeah, this one’s real deep. Were you gonna throw that ol’ necklace down to see how long before it goes plunk at the bottom?”
I laugh. “I thought about it. It’s pretty ugly, isn’t it? But my grandmother gave it to me, so I’d best keep it.”
He looks disappointed. “Guess we can just use a rock.”
“I actually need to be going. Can one of you tell me where Brother Earl’s shop is?”
“It’s right next to his house.”
“And which one is his house?”
“Last one on the left. Just go down the road, an’ you’ll see it.”
The other boy looks at his brother and then back at me, a grin stretching his freckled face. “Martha keeps looking at him, y’know.”
“At Brother Earl?” I ask, teasingly.
“No! At your boyfriend.” And then they both collapse into giggles.
“Well, then I guess I’d better get over there right away, hadn’t I?”
I give them a smile, but it freezes on my face as I’m gut-punched by the reality that they’ll both be dead before the month is out. I turn and hurry back toward the road, but tears are blurring my vision, and I run smack into Martha when I round the corner.
“I’m sorry.” I duck my head as I go past, but she sees that I’m crying.
“Hey, wait! What Jack and Vern told you—it ain’t true.”
“It’s okay, Martha.”
She grabs my arm. “No, really. I don’ want you gettin’ all mad at . . . him. ’Cause he ain’ even looked at me. I swear it.”
I bite my lip and try to rein in the tears. “I know, Martha. It’s not that, okay? Really. I’m not mad at him. Not mad at you. The music just . . . it made me a little sad, okay? Reminded me of some things I’d rather forget.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods. “Yeah. Music does that to me, too, sometimes.” She shoves a lock of hair back behind her ear, nodding down the road. Kiernan is already coming toward us, pushing the bike. “I gotta get back to Sister Elba, or she’s gonna lecture me ’bout responsibility again. Anyway, it was nice meetin’ y’all. Hope it’s a good picnic.”
“Thanks, Martha. Nice meeting you, too.”
Martha heads toward the church, stopping just long enough to yell in the direction of the chicken coop. “Jack and Vern, if the two of you have the sense God gave a billy goat, you’ll be in the next county by the time I’m done with my lesson.”