Nobody's Baby but Mine(47)

“Calvin, he’ll be comin’ to fetch you before long,” Annie Glide said.

Jane set down the tea she’d been sipping from an ancient white ceramic mug that bore the remains of an American flag decal and gazed at Annie across the cluttered living room. Despite its unorthodox decor, this house felt like a home, a place where a person could belong. “Oh, I don’t think so. He doesn’t know where I am.”

“He’ll figure it out soon enough. Boy’s been roamin’ these mountains ever since he was in diapers.”

She couldn’t imagine Cal ever wearing diapers. Surely he’d been born with a belligerent attitude and a full set of chest hair. “I can’t believe how close your house is to his. The day I met you it seemed as if we drove several miles before we got to those awful gates.”

“You did. Road winds all the way ’round Heartache Mountain goin’ through town. This morning, you just took the shortcut.”

Jane had been surprised when she’d reached the notch in the mountain and looked down the other side to see the tin roof of Annie Glide’s cabin. At first she hadn’t recognized it, but then she’d spotted the colorful wind sock flying at the corner of the porch. Even though it had been nearly two weeks since they’d met, Annie had greeted her as if she’d been expected.

“You know how to make corn bread, Janie Bonner?”

“I’ve made it a few times.”

“It’s no good lest you fold in a little buttermilk.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Before I took so sick, I used to make my own apple butter. Nothin’ as good as cold apple butter on warm corn bread. You got to find you real soft apples when you make it, and watch yourself peelin’ ’em ’cause ain’t nobody on earth likes to bite into a big tough ol’ piece of peel when they’re expectin’ good smooth apple butter.”

“If I ever make any, I’ll be careful.”

Annie had been doing this ever since Jane had arrived, tossing out recipes and bits of folk wisdom: ginger tea for colds, nine sips of water for hiccups, beets to be planted on the twenty-sixth, twenty-seventh, or twenty-eighth of March, but no later or they’d be puny.

Despite the improbability of her ever using any of this information, she’d found herself taking it all in. Annie’s advice represented the continuity between one generation and the next. Roots went deep in these mountains, and as someone who had always felt so very rootless, each tidbit seemed like a solid link with a family that had a history and traditions, everything she craved.

“. . . and if you’re gonna make you some dumplin’s, put a egg in that dough and a pinch of sage.” She started to cough, and Jane regarded her with concern. When she recovered, she waved her hand displaying fingernails painted a bright cherry red. “Listen to me goin’ on. It’s a wonder you haven’t just said, ‘Annie, shut your yap; you done wore out my ears.’ ”

“I love listening to you.”

“You’re a good girl, Janie Bonner. I’m surprised Calvin married you.”

Jane laughed. Annie Glide was the most unexpected person. The only one of her grandparents Jane had ever known had been her father’s self-centered and narrow-minded mother.

“I miss my garden. Had that worthless Joey Neeson plow for me a couple weeks ago, even though it goes against my grain to have strangers ’round here. Calvin, he’s always sending strangers up here to fix things, but I won’t have it. Don’t even like family nibbin’ in my business, let alone strangers.” She shook her head. “I was hopin’ I’d be strong enough to get my garden put in this spring, but I was foolin’ myself. Ethan said he’d come by to help me, but that poor boy has so much work with his church, I didn’t have the heart to do nothin’ but tell him weren’t no sissy boy plantin’ my garden.” She gave Jane a sideways glance from her crafty blue eyes. “Sure am gonna miss my garden, but I won’t have strangers plantin’ for me.”

Jane saw right through the old woman’s wiles, but it didn’t occur to her to be annoyed. Instead, she felt curiously flattered. “I’ll be happy to help you if you show me what to do.”

Annie pressed her hand to her chest. “You’d do that for me?”

Jane laughed at her feigned amazement. “I’ll enjoy it. I’ve never had a garden.”

“Well, now, that’s just fine. You make Calvin bring you over here first thing tomorrow, and we’ll get those ’taters in right away. It’s real late—I like to do it at the end of February, during the dark of the moon—but they still might turn out if we get ’em in right away. Then we plant onions, and after that some beets.”