Cruel Harvest (28 page)

I escaped our home often, trying to avoid the fights between Daddy and Millie. They were getting more violent, and I did not have the heart to see Mary Anne watch her mother suffer more abuse. She was little, and she had been so bubbly and sweet when we met her. I could see her personality changing right before my eyes. She was broken, and she flinched whenever anyone came near. She never spoke unless we were alone. It hurt to see what Daddy had done, and I often wondered what would become of her.

Strangely, as the abuse continued, Millie seemed to grow closer to Daddy. I noticed that a change had come over her one night while Daddy was out drinking. She spoke to me and Nellie.

“You two are getting older.”

Nellie nodded, and I just listened while playing paper dolls with Mary Anne on the floor. I noticed she was paying attention, too, and I remember thinking she looked worried. I had become to her what Brenda had been to me, and I knew I was oftentimes the only buffer to keep her from harm.

“You know,” Millie said, “it's about time for you girls to head out on your own. I think you're both old enough to make it alone.”

Nellie sat still, silently nodding her head in agreement. I just listened as she continued.

“I think things would get better between Broadus and me, and Mary Anne, too, if you went on your way.”

I looked at Mary Anne to see what she thought. She acted as if she hadn't heard her, but I could see she had and didn't like the idea.

Nellie sat at the table. She did not look up. Instead, she scratched a fingernail along the tabletop.

“He won't just let us go, you know.”

“You could run off. You're old enough to make it on your own now.”

“I could,” Nellie said, still not looking at any of us. “I could start a new life. Get a job and take care of myself. He can't stop me.”

“No, he can't,” Millie agreed.

Later that night, Nellie and I lay in the darkness, trying to sleep. Nellie started whispering to me, and I noticed right away that her voice sounded different.

“I think I'd get a job in town somewhere. Maybe at a movie theater dishing out popcorn. Or at a place ladies go to get their hair fixed. I'd be good at that.”

I sat quietly, my stomach turning. With each word she said, I grew more and more afraid. I pictured Daddy storming into the room, grabbing us both by the neck and squeezing the life out of us. I think he might have done it, too, if he heard Nellie talking like that. We had lived under a mountain of fear for so long that I could not believe that Nellie had climbed so high as to actually think about trying to run away. Nellie was sixteen at the time, and I was fourteen.

She is much stronger than me,
I thought.
At least she can dream
about it
.

As the weeks passed, though, her stories got more frequent and more detailed. Even I could sense that they weren't just words anymore. She was planning her escape! At the same time, Millie found a way to get us out of the house at least some of the time. She lined us up to babysit for the Spencers' children. We loved it, and it gave Millie time alone with Daddy.

Jackie was a good mother and fun-loving young woman. She didn't seem all that much older than Brenda was when she left. Nellie and I quickly took to her, and Jackie returned the feeling. I loved going up to the house right from the start.

“How is life in your house?” she asked us one of the first nights we went up to sit for her kids.

“Good,” Nellie said.

Jackie looked at us for a long minute. I fidgeted in my chair and Nellie gave me a warning look.

“Are you mistreated?”

Nellie shook her head. I did too. I remember being a little bit surprised by that. The fear had not totally left Nellie yet. She would still not confirm Jackie's suspicions.

Jackie sat with watchful eyes, gauging our reactions. With a slight shake of the head, she smiled.

“Come on in the back room. I have some clothes I want you to try on.”

She took us to her room and pulled a handful of blouses and dresses out of the closet. She held a few up, measuring them by sight.

“Frances, you try this one.”

She handed me a dress. My fingers touched the fabric; it was cotton, and it felt so clean and smooth. My heart ached for the time we'd spent at Connie Maxwell. I pressed the dress against my face, smelling the fresh fabric, and I cradled it tenderly.

“Here you go, Nellie.”

She handed my sister a blouse. Nellie's eyes lit up. There was no sadness there, only a kind of fiery determination. We changed right there on the spot. It felt so good to be wearing something ironed and clean.

The work we did for Jackie, cleaning and cooking and tending the children, felt like a vacation to me. She played music on the radio all day, and I memorized every song as I ironed her clothes, washed dishes, and made the beds. Before we left that day, she gave us a small cardboard box with a few pretty dresses for each of us. She gave Nellie a pair of shoes!

When we arrived home, Daddy was there. It had been too cold to work the grapevines, so he spent the day fixing up the house. He was kneeling on the floor in the front room, hammering in a loose floorboard, when we came through the door.

“Where'd you get those clothes?”

Nellie answered without hesitation. “Mrs. Spencer made us wear 'em while we were in her house.”

“She think she's better'n us,” he cursed, returning to his work. “What did you do, sit around and talk all day?”

“No, sir,” I said. “She had us working hard up at the house.”

“They better pay me for that.”

Truth be told, it was barely work with Jackie. Often, her sister Sandra would come by, and we'd visit all day, playing with the children and eating fresh-baked cookies. Jackie must have known the truth about our lives because she went out of her way to make us feel safe and happy. She often tried to get us to admit how bad it was, but Nellie never let on, at least not in front of me.

I especially enjoyed the radio. I loved hearing music so much and never tired of it, even if the same songs played over and over again. While I went about my work, I would sing along. It was such a wonderful place.

I was happy, and Daddy started to notice it. He became suspicious of what we did all day that made me so happy. I knew that the music was part of the reason I was so joyful, but I dared not tell him. He questioned us every night. We tried to make it sound like hard work, but his questions became more and more pointed.

One night, I stepped into the house humming a song I'd heard that day on the radio. Daddy was there. He pounced.

“Where'd you hear that song?!”

I froze, my throat tightening up. I shrugged and lowered my eyes.

“I think Mrs. Spencer was listening to music with her sister while we was working hard,” Nellie said. “Frances musta overheard it.”

“You been talking to that woman?” he asked for the hundredth time.

“No,” Nellie said.

I glanced at her and noticed something odd. She had changed somehow. When she said no, she had her arms crossed and she looked him straight in the eye. Her feet were planted, and she did not sound timid at all. She was sixteen now, and I saw a flash of the adult she was to become.

Daddy eyed her up and down. It was like lightning crossing between them.

“I wonder,” he said.

Nellie finally flinched. Her eyes lowered, and a dark, evil smirk crossed Daddy's face.

Not long after
that night, Daddy found a way to steal our joy again. We woke up early in the morning, excitedly expecting to go clean house, babysit, and get away from Daddy's iron fist. He watched us get dressed and brush our hair. As we started toward the door, he stood up and barred the way.

“You're not going over there anymore.”

He seemed to gain strength from our disappointment. The look on his face was one of pure joy, and my heart sank. I walked away from the door and he followed.

“You won't be goin' up there again,” he said. “That woman don't want you up at her house no more.”

I was devastated. Jackie had returned some light to my life. Daddy knew that, no matter how we tried to hide it from him.

“What?!” Nellie said.

She was still standing by the door. I was shocked by her reaction. I looked at her, willing her with everything I had to stay quiet. Daddy looked as surprised as I did.

“You ain't goin' up there no more. And if you don't shut your mouth, you're not gonna be able to shut it.”

“Jackie
never
said that,” Nellie snapped right back at him.

Daddy took a step toward her. Nellie turned and ran from the house. To my shock, he did not follow her. Instead, he turned on me.

“Get out of my sight,” he said, backhanding me across the head.

Then, inexplicably, he walked away, so I got out the door as quickly as I could. I saw Nellie disappearing into the vineyard. I followed after her, trying to step in the tracks she left behind in the snow. The cold cut through my thin dress, but I had to catch up with my sister. When I did, Nellie barely paid me any mind.

“I knew he'd do it,” I said.

“I hate him,” she hissed. “I hate his guts!”

“Maybe Jackie will come looking for us,” I offered.

Nellie kept walking. She had to be as cold as I felt, but she showed none of it.

“Do you want me to get your coat?” I asked.

Nellie said nothing. The cold was too much for me. I ran back to the house and got my coat and Nellie's too. Then I grabbed some of the pruning tools and headed out to the orchard. The cold and hard work was better than being around Daddy. More than that, though, I sensed something new and dangerous in Nellie. I had an almost overwhelming fear that she would disappear into that vineyard and I would never see her again.

I followed after her tracks, but they ended on a patch of rocky ground where the snow had melted away. I stood there for some time, staring out into the woods, feeling empty and alone. I must have gone back to work, but the day passed in a haze. When I got back to the house, I realized I had carried Nellie's coat with me all day.

I prayed to see Nellie inside the house, but she was not there. Mary Anne latched onto me the second she saw me, and I spent an hour or so playing with her. I saw my own fears mirrored in her eyes; I felt guilty for staying away from her for so long.

Finally the door opened, and Nellie appeared. She looked cold, but not as much as she would have had she been outside all day without her coat. I wondered if she had been to see Jackie against Daddy's orders. She ignored me and glared at Daddy. Her lip curled up, and she openly snarled at him. I was glad he was so drunk that he was almost ready to pass out. I don't know if he had not seen her snarl or chosen not to react. Either way, nothing happened. Nellie stomped into the back room and went to bed.

My sister's change
grew more pronounced the longer we stayed at the Spencers' farm. As the weeks passed, she became more brazen. I often cringed when she muttered under her breath or shot a scowl in Daddy's direction. It was as if someone had placed a time bomb in the house. I could hear it ticking every second, but I had no idea when it was scheduled to erupt.

One day, as spring threatened to push winter north, the sun shone so brightly off the snow that I felt almost blinded when I walked outside with Nellie and Daddy. We headed out to the vineyard to care for the grapevines. Nellie and I stayed away from Daddy whenever we could. That day, Nellie stayed far away from me as well.

When our work was done and the sun began to set behind the tall trees to the west, we returned to the house. I stepped over the ax Daddy used to split wood. It was lying on the porch beside a pile of logs and an old tin half filled with lighter fluid.

“Watch where you're walking, you fool,” he snapped at me.

Millie, who stayed behind to care for her baby son, Broadus, and Mary Anne, was busy fixing dinner. Daddy sat down in one of the chairs, snapped his fingers, and pointed down to his boots. I hurried over to loosen the laces. I was so used to him ordering us around in any manner he saw fit that I thought nothing of it. As I tugged on one boot, I glanced up at Nellie. She was staring right at me. The look on her face confused me. It was as though she was mad at me.

I started when Daddy slammed his open hand down on the tabletop.

“Get me my bottle!”

He was clearly talking to Nellie. There was a challenge to his tone that I had not heard before. It was as if he had waited until that moment to address the tension that had been building since we had arrived in Michigan after leaving the Missouri spider shack. I held my breath, as I imagined Millie did as well.

Nellie made no reply. She turned and looked him in the eye. The hatred on her face was like a snake coiled to strike, and she looked at him in pure disgust. It was totally, slap-you-across-the-face clear she considered him as revolting as a bug she had squashed under her foot.