Free The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope by Rhonda Riley Page B

door to them, the eyes of the white men at the gas station and the feed store as they followed the colored people walking by, the strained face of the Murray girl as she hurried her bastard kid down the street. I remembered the faces of the boys who had teased me voraciously, sometimes cruelly, simply for the color of my hair or my height.
    Soon she would be among Cole’s family, then my family, then the town of Clarion.
    For the first time in my life, I feared and distrusted my own kind. I saw them for a moment as an outsider might. If I told them and they believed me, how would they view her? A circus freak to stare at? Someone unnatural to be avoided? And if I told exactly what had happened and I was not believed, would I be pitied and tolerated or would they think I was crazy enough to be locked away? Away from her? I could not imagine her among the people in Clarion, the people I had known all my life. Folks who got up every morning and walked to the mill, the other kids I had gone to school with, or the congregation of the church. My head throbbed and my stomach churned violently. I fought the wave of nausea that swept through me as I lurched into the saddle.
    She waited for me on the farm. I had to say something. I needed a plausible explanation for her presence and our resemblance. I needed to protect her and myself.
    For a crazy moment, I imagined us boarding the train, heading for a new life in Chicago. Maybe we could find my aunt there, my father’s long-lost sister, Doris, who had run away so many years before. No explanations would be necessary where no one knew us, and surely she would take us both in as family.
    Immediately, I abandoned that idea. I knew I could not run away. I could not leave the farm and my mother. I could not leave the people I loved.
    Then it hit me and I stopped, stunned.
    Ignorance ran both ways. If my aunt in Chicago knew nothing about us, then it was also true that no one in Clarion knew anything about her. Rather than explain Addie Nell to my estranged aunt, I could use my estranged aunt to explain Addie Nell to my family. She could be the daughter of Doris Roe and the Hardin boy Doris had run off after. Addie Nell could be my cousin, come to find her mother’s family. That would explain her resemblance to me. The thought seemed as wild as running off to Chicago, but it was the only thing I could think of. Within minutes I’d concocted a story: I’d ridden Becky into town for bag balm. The cows’ udders were often chapped in winter. I’d taken Becky instead of walking, hoping to beat the approaching storm. Addie Nell, arriving in town to find her mother’s relations, had immediately spotted me as family when I passed the train depot. Then the rain hit and we headed straight back to the farm to stable Becky and pick up fresh dry clothes for Addie Nell. It was plausible. I’d taken Becky on mid-week errands a couple of times.
    Addie Nell Hardin. It could work. No one had heard from Doris since she left when my father was a teenage boy.
    Giddy with relief, I laughed into the cold rain and urged Becky toward the Starneses’ land.
    All my life, I’d been a good daughter. Except for my nights with Cole, I’d never lied to Momma and Daddy, never done anything of importance that I knew they really didn’t want me to do. But the lie would, I thought then, be easier than the truth. For everyone. Especially me.
    I worked the details of my story, clinging to it like a drowning woman, while I made my way to Cole’s family. I imagined Addie Nell at the train station and how I would phrase my story. I repeated the story of Addie Nell to myself as I crossed the Starneses’ pasture. Wild fear pressed into the core of me, guarded by my desire to keep that bright gaze safe. By the time I got to Cole’s house and saw his mother’s worried face at the door, my teeth chattered violently. But internally, I was iron-calm, steady as a rock. As Mrs. Starnes opened the door and the warmth of her