Free The Storycatcher by Ann Hite Page B

refused to tell them how she made the trip. I guessed it was the first interesting thing she’d done in her life. She stood up and did something other than whine for more attention. There wasn’t a bit of love between me and her, that was for sure, but a person had to admire her gumption.
    When Pastor led Faith off into his study, Mrs. Dobbins started wringing her hands. Lord, she was a mess. Nada kept that cold stare of hers on the study door, and when it opened she stopped cutting up the chicken for dinner.
    “What happened, Faith?” Mrs. Dobbins asked.
    Faith didn’t have no choice but to stop, ’cause Mrs. Dobbins blocked the door.
    “That Tuggle woman took her down the mountain without permission. I want to see her today! Here!” he roared. Then he gave Faith one of those “you going to die” looks. “If there’s not a good reason for this, you won’t be going to her house again. Now, go on to your room and stay there.” He gave his whole attention to Mrs. Dobbins. “I’ve never cared for Faith working like some farmhand, anyway.”
    So it was agreed in no extra words that whether Miss Tuggle wanted to or not, she was to come in front of Pastor. And I’d never known him not to get exactly what he wanted out of folks. Everybody on the mountain, including Mrs. Dobbins, knew Miss Tuggle hated Pastor all the way down to her toes. Nobody knew why. They didn’t have to. Miss Tuggle was her own woman, and what she thought was given honor. I cut out humming around the front room dusting Mrs. Dobbins’s stupid doodads. No cleaning up after Faith for a few days. No, I figured Miss Prissy had got herself in so much trouble she wouldn’t be in my way. They’d probably lock her in the attic with only bread and water. She had to be the neediest white girl, always yelling for me to go fetch her some book or a glass of water like her dern legs was gone. “Shelly, sew on this button.” Her being a fine seamstress. Even Nada made over them awful quilts. “Shelly, I needme some apples, peeled and sliced, mind you. And don’t be walking in the woods. I seen you the other day. I’ll tell Amanda. Can you clean the spot off my shoe? Shelly, Shelly, Shelly.” Trying to always boss me like she’s some kind of grown-up. Nada said she was, but I knew better. Shoot, I was more grown at fifteen than she was at nineteen. I knew how backward she was even if nobody else wanted to stand up and take notice.
    Mrs. Dobbins was beside herself when Pastor walked back down the hall and slammed his study door. She followed Nada from room to room for at least an hour.
    “Mrs. Dobbins, you got to get out from under my feet. I can’t tolerate it no more. You best go see Miss Tuggle yourself.”
    “Oh, I can’t do that. It’s not proper. Charles would be very upset.”
    “She ain’t nothing but some old granny woman, not a thing special. So stop your fretting before you drive both me and you crazy.”
    “I just can’t face that woman after I talked out of my head that day. She knows too much.”
    “Shoot, Mrs. Dobbins, she’s probably heard worse.”
    “I just can’t.”
    Nada took a deep breath. “I’ll send Shelly over to get her right now. Just to bring peace to this house.”
    “What if she won’t come? You know she hates Charles.”
    Nada rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “You just a trouble borrower. That’s all you be.”
    I slid into the kitchen, but Nada followed me.
    “You stop trying to get out of this mess.” Nada watched me close. “Take yourself over to Miss Tuggle’s and tell her she has to come see Pastor and why. And ask her if she can give me plenty of catnip and chamomile. I’m running low. I got to either calm this white woman or take a dose of my own tea.”
    Now, the last thing I wanted was to go to Miss Tuggle’s house. I didn’t have nothing against her, but she was a quiet woman. And I was pretty much a quiet girl. I was afraid we’d quiet each other to death.
    “Don’t give me that