Firefly Hollow (4 page)

Chapter Five

June 1956…

T
HE BROWNING HOUSEHOLD WAS IN a tizzy. With children running in and out of the house, laughter filling the rooms, and food weighing down the table, the good spirits were infectious. Sarah was astonished that so many people had gathered to wish her well.

Her mother stopped on the way to the kitchen to give Sarah a hug. “I’m so proud of you, so very proud, and so is your father. We can hardly believe it. Our little baby girl is grown and getting ready to go away to college.” She gave Sarah an extra squeeze, and Sarah closed her eyes.

It didn’t matter that she was nearly eighteen years old and the world viewed her as an adult. As excited as she was about going to college to become a teacher, part of her was still a scared little girl who needed her mother.

The moment was interrupted when Sarah’s two-year-old niece, Moira, came running up, screaming fit to raise the dead.

Eliza sighed, and in a voice so low only Sarah heard it, muttered, “If your sister wasn’t going through a rough time, I swear I’d take her out behind the woodshed. She’s going to have to learn to take care of this child.” Eliza picked up Moira and cradled her close. “She’s tired, poor thing. I’m going to take her upstairs and put her down for a nap. Can you finish getting the food on the table?”

“Of course, Mama.”

For the next few hours, the activity was non-stop. By the time the last guest left, Sarah was worn down to a nub. As she helped her mother wash dishes, she asked, “How is it that you look almost as fresh as you did this morning? I’m ready to drop.”

Eliza smiled, and not for the first time, Sarah realized that her mother was a strikingly beautiful woman. “I thrive on these sorts of gatherings, you know that. Always have. And they always wear you out. Are you sure you want to be a teacher?”

“Of course I’m sure. I want to be able to share my love of knowledge, of books, of learning. I want to make a difference, Mama.” She rinsed out a large pot and handed it to her mother to dry. “Kathy didn’t look quite as peaked as she did last weekend, I didn’t think.”

Eliza sobered. “No, but she still has a long way to go before she’s recovered. Losing that baby, it’s aged her some. It’s only been three weeks, after all.”

“I hope Randall lets her get some rest before he goes at her again.”

“Sarah Jane Browning!”

Her cheeks flushing, Sarah shrugged. “What? It’s true. You know how it was when they stayed here right after they got married. I don’t think any of us got a decent night’s sleep for the entire three months.” She could tell her mother was struggling to keep a stern face. “It’s a good thing we don’t live in town, or they would have been cited as a public nuisance.”

Eliza lost her composure. She laughed so hard she cried, and Sarah laughed along with her, holding on to the sink for support. Realizing it was going to be one of the last times they’d share this special, private sort of moment for a while sent a pang of sadness through Sarah, and she wiped her hands on a dishrag.

“I love you, Mama,” she said as she folded Eliza into a hug. During her junior year of high school, Sarah had shot up four full inches, making her two inches taller than Eliza, much as her father had predicted. She’d also finally gained some of the curves she’d so often longed for, though not as pronounced as her mother’s or sister’s.

Eliza held on to her tightly. “Are you going for one of your walks this evening?”

“No. I think it’s going to rain. I thought we could sit on the porch and watch the fog roll up the holler. I’m going to go on a nice, long walk tomorrow, while everyone’s at work.”

Sarah and her mother stayed on the porch until night had fallen, then her father and brother joined them. Ira brought out his fiddle, and the music echoed across the valley, a low and mournful sound that spoke to something deep within Sarah. The fireflies were out in full force, their leisurely movements across the yard looking like nothing less than a twinkling, living blanket crossing the landscape. Sarah knew they’d be moving in a dancing swarm up at the pond, and even though she’d been surrounded by the luminescent creatures every summer of her life, their magic never failed to amaze her.

Eliza caught her eye, her own gaze following the direction of Sarah’s. “Firefly Hollow, indeed.”

The next day, the sun came out early and hot. Sarah slept later than she meant to. She barely got up in time to see her mother off to work. Eliza had started cleaning houses part time to have something to do.

“It doesn’t hurt to have a little extra money from time to time, either,” she had told Sarah. “There’s always something that needs or wants buying, and it’s nice to have the pin money.”

Her mother was tying a bright red handkerchief around her hair as Sarah came down the stairs. “I packed you up a lunch. I figured you’d be out past lunchtime on your walk.”

“Thanks, Mama. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It was easy enough to do. I had to pack your daddy’s lunch and mine, so I went ahead and made yours, too. Now, your brother? He’s on his own.”

Sarah laughed when her mother winked, knowing that sixteen-year-old Jack had a lunch waiting for him in the Frigidaire, as well. Eliza headed out the door with a jaunty wave, and Sarah walked to the kitchen door to watch her go. Though her mother was forty-three, she could have easily passed for thirty. She still turned heads, a fact that made Sarah’s father puff up with pride. Leaning against the doorjamb, Sarah wondered if she would ever be lucky enough to have a man look at her the way her father looked at her mother.

After the embarrassing debacle with Paul her sophomore year, Sarah had turned her attention to her studies even more. When she finally blossomed, the boys started paying more attention. Instead of wanting her help with homework, they wanted her affection. Though she was flattered, Sarah had proven hard to impress. Her disinterest made the boys pant after her even more, a perversity that had Sarah and her best friend, Gillian Eversole, rolling their eyes.

“The less I want to do with them, the more they want to do with me. I don’t understand it, Gilly. They’re such odd creatures,” Sarah had mused.

“I know. With very few exceptions, men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

Sarah smiled, knowing one of the “exceptions” the petite and perky redhead referenced was Sarah’s brother, Jack. He and Gilly were in the same class, and they’d fallen hard and fast for each other. Sarah wouldn’t be surprised if at some not-too-distant point in the future, Jack offered her friend marriage.

Pushing away thoughts of boys, Sarah went back up to her bedroom to get dressed. She pulled on denim shorts and a striped blouse, then slipped her feet into the sturdy walking boots her father insisted she wear on her walks since the encounter with the snake.

Back in the kitchen, she grabbed the lunch her mother had packed and set out with her book bag full of everything she’d need for the day. Taking the familiar trail, she reached the Browning-Campbell property line in less than five minutes. As she always did before crossing the line, she looked around to make sure no one was watching.

For a long time after she’d encountered the snake, she hesitated about returning, but the peace and tranquility she felt there pulled her back. She’d set some rules, though, and had promised herself she’d adhere to them. First, she always wore boots and carried a sturdy walking stick. Second, if she was ever discovered and asked to leave, she’d do so and not return. As hard as it would be to leave the pool, she would respect the Campbells’ wishes. Third, she would never willingly do any damage, and if she did someday cause harm, she’d confess all immediately and bear the consequences.

Mr. Campbell had died a few years earlier, right after his younger son was killed overseas. His widow had fallen ill last year and had passed away over the winter, leaving only one Campbell—Owen. Sarah had never met him. As with small towns anywhere, no one’s business seemed to truly be their own, and she had heard whispers about the mysterious Owen for what seemed like her whole life. He wasn’t much older than she was, but he’d gone to live in Laurel County for a while. When he returned, he apparently decided to live like a hermit. With that knowledge, she felt somewhat reassured that she could visit the pool without fear of reprisal.

When she reached the secluded spot, she felt the tension in her body relax, and she laughed with the sheer pleasure of being in her favorite place in the world. She climbed up to the flat part of the boulder and spread her blanket in a warm spot in the sun. Her boots quickly came off and were set aside, and Sarah took several minutes simply to be in the place and moment in time.

Though tempted, she didn’t sit too long in the sun. She knew the danger of getting overheated, and though it was still only early June, the summer was promising to be a scorcher. The last thing she wanted to do was get a sunburn and blister, making her last few days at home miserable. After a few minutes, she moved back to a shady spot where the sun filtered down through the leafy canopy. The rock was eroded, forming a natural backrest, and Sarah pulled a book out of her bag. She grabbed the sliced apple from the lunch her mother had packed and settled in to read.

Soon, she was lost in the book, the storytelling having done its job and pulled her in. The apple lay neglected on the paper towel on her lap, and Sarah didn’t give it or her lunch another thought until a soft rustling sound penetrated her brain. Startled, she looked up, straight into the brown eyes of a deer. It appeared to have been edging closer to her, but when she looked up, it took a wary step back.

She had often wondered what happened to the deer from the day she’d discovered the pool. She had tried to pretend the creature’s absence didn’t sadden her. She told herself repeatedly that the deer was fine and had probably moved on to greener pastures, but part of her had always wondered if something bad happened to it. Confronted with a deer that looked startlingly similar to
her
deer, she had to wonder.

“You can’t be the same deer. You’re not any older than that one was.”

The deer looked at her, one ear twitching to shoo off a fly. It dropped its gaze to the uneaten apple in Sarah’s lap, and comprehension dawned.

“You’re hungry.” Moving carefully, she held a piece of apple out in the flat of her palm. The deer eyed her and the apple, then took a tentative step toward the fruit. “Come on. You’re bigger than me; I can’t hurt you.”

The deer huffed out a breath as if to say “Oh, really?” but it stepped close enough to take the apple. Closing its lips around the fruit with a delicacy that surprised her, it stepped back, pulling the slice out of her hand. In seconds, the fruit was devoured. All wariness apparently gone, the deer moved closer.

“Oh, my gosh. This is incredible.” Piece by piece, she fed the rest of the apple to the deer. When the treat was gone, it surprised her even more by snuffling into her hands.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I have.” She reached for her brown paper lunch bag. “Mama packed my lunch this morning, but I’d just about bet you wouldn’t be interested in what’s in here. It’s bound to be egg salad or something leftover from last night’s dinner.”

The deer stepped back, and Sarah pulled out the contents of the bag. Sure enough, it was an egg salad sandwich, and she laughed. “Told you.”

She ate the rest of her lunch with the deer observing every bite. When finished, she stretched, keeping her movements slow and careful. She gazed around the pool, listening to the birds calling from the trees. Somewhere over in the distance, a squirrel chattered angrily, and Sarah’s companion turned its head in that direction.

“I’m going to miss this place,” she murmured. The deer’s head swiveled back around as if it had understood her words. It took a couple steps back, and Sarah felt tears prick her eyes. “I don’t want to go, but at the same time, I do. I need to go. I’ll never accomplish all the things I want to do if I stay here. I’d be stuck working down at the five and dime until I’m a withered old woman. I’d probably end up withered and lonely and marry Paul Turner out of desperation. If he wasn’t already married, that is.” Paul had gotten his girlfriend pregnant last year, and the two had married. By all accounts, it was not a happy union.

“So I have to go. I won’t be able to come back until Thanksgiving, and if the weather’s too bad, I won’t even be able to come back then. It could be next year before I get to see this place again. The thought of leaving hurts me deep inside. I feel like I’m leaving a part of myself behind.” Sarah swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “This is ludicrous. I’m having a conversation with a deer. Like you really understand what I’m saying.”