Heaven (Casteel 1)

TOM WAS GONE.

I was without a soul to love me. Who would

ever call me Heavenly again? Tom took with him all the laughter, all the excitement, brightness, courage, encouragement, and good humor he'd given to a grim, struggling

household. The fun side of myself disappeared in that pickup truck with license plates so covered with mud I couldn't read them. And I'd tried so hard. I'd thought before, foolishly, that I'd been alone after Keith and Our Jane left. Now I was truly the only one left, and I was the one Pa hated.

I tried to comfort myself by believing 1 was also the only one who did anything useful in the cabin, like cooking and cleaning, and caring for Grandpa--certainly Pa wouldn't want to leave Grandpa here alone. . .

I willed Pa to go, to slam out the door, jump into his truck, and drive for Winnerrow, or wherever he went now that he had to stay out of Shirley's Place.

He didn't go.

He positioned himself near the only door to our shack like a guard dog, to keep me imprisoned until he had me sold, too.

He didn't speak, just sat sullen and quiet, and when night fell he moved his chair closer to the stove, his large feet propped up, his eyes half closed, a look of misery on his face.

All through the remainder of the week after Tom left with Buck Henry I tried to find the strength to run off alone if ever I had the chance--that meant when I had to use the outhouse.

Without Tom, Keith, Our Jane, I had no heart, no spirit, no will to run anywhere to save myself from what had to be my certain fate. If only I could send a message to Miss Deale. Was she back yet? I prayed each night for Miss Deale or Logan to come to my rescue.

No one came.

I was the one Pa hated, and I would be the one he'd turn over to the very worst kind of people. No rich folks for me, Not even anyone as good as Buck Henry. Very likely he'd sell me to that madam who ran Shirley's Place.

The more my thoughts dwelled on my fate, the angrier I grew. He couldn't do this to me! I wasn't a dumb animal to be sold off and forgotten. I was a human being with an eternal soul, with the inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Miss Deale had said that so often it was imprinted on my brain. Then, to myself, I had to grin bitterly, for in that class of hers there dwelled a spirit that reached out to me, telling me to hold on, she was coming to the rescue. It was almost as if I heard Miss Deale calling out encouragement, her voice coming closer and closer over the hills.

Hurry, Miss Deale, I wanted to yell across the mountains. This is my needing time, Miss Deale! All pride gone now, vanished, conquered! Without shame I'll take from you! Come, come fast to save me, for it won't be long now!

I prayed, then got up from my knees, moved to the kitchen cabinet, and peered inside. Life went on despite everything, and meals had to be prepared.

Hope was in Grandpa's reddened, watery eyes when he came back from his necessity trip with more tree branches. He carefully seated himself in his rocker. He didn't pick up his whittling knife, only fixed his eyes on me. Don't leave me, his eyes were pleading. Stay, they begged silently, even as he motioned me close and whispered, "I'm all right, chile. I know what yer thinkin. Ya wanna run. So go when ya get t'chancesteal out when Luke's asleepin."

I loved him for saying that. Loved him so much I forgave him for keeping quiet when the others were sold, knowing even as I thought this that I had to love somebody or curl up and die. "You won't hate me if I leave you here alone? You'll understand?"

"Nope, won't understand. Jus want ya to have what ya want. In my heart I know yer pa's doin what he thinks is best. In yer heart ya think he's doin what's worst."

It seemed Pa had slept his last sleep in some distant unknown place. He didn't doze, didn't even close his eyes all the way. His cold, dark eyes never left me. Not that he met my challenging glares; he only gazed with hooded eyes at some part of me, my hair, my hands, my feet, my middle, anywhere but my face.

Seven days passed, and Pa stayed on and on.

Then one day Logan came to our door, come like a prince to save me!

I opened it expecting to see Grandpa coming from the outhouse. "Hi," Logan said, smiling broadly and then flushing. "Been thinkin a lot about you lately, wondering why you, Tom, and the others don't come to school now that the weather's not so bad. Why are all of you staying away? What you been up to?"

He hadn't seen Fanny--why not?

I yanked him in the door when once I would have shoved him out, or thought of a million reasons why he couldn't come in. "Pa's chopping wood out back," I whispered franti

cally, "and Grandpa's in the outhouse, so I won't have much time. Pa comes in to check on me every few minutes. Logan, I'm in trouble, big trouble! Pa is selling us off, one by one. Our Jane and Keith first, then Fanny, next Tom. . . and soon it'll be me."

"Who ya talkin to, girl?" bellowed Pa from the door. I shrank inside my skin as Logan turned to face the powerful brute who was my father.

"My name is Logan Stonewall, sir," said Logan in a polite yet firm way. "My father is Grant Stonewall, and he owns Stonewall Pharmacy, and Heaven and I have been good friends ever since we came to Winnerrow to live. It's been troubling me why Heaven, Tom, Fanny, Keith, and Our Jane don't go to school anymore, so I came to check on all of them."

"Why they go or don't go is none of yer damned business," snapped Pa. "Now take yerself out of here. We don't need nosy people checking on what we do or don't do."

Logan turned again to me. "I guess I should go home before the sun goes down. Please take care of yourself. By the way, my teacher said that Miss Deale will be back next week." He gave Pa a long, significant look, making my heart thrill. He did believe me, he did!