Free Anybody Shining by Frances O'Roark Dowell Page A

Boyd.”
    Harlan spit off the side of the porch, like that was his answer. He seemed more interested in making an impression on the Baltimore children than staying in Lucille’s good graces, something I reckoned he’d regret once them Baltimore children went home.
    Miss Sary come to the door and welcomed us in. “You couldn’t have arrived at a better time. I just made my special black walnut cookies.”
    Once we was all seated at the kitchen table, Lucille kept her eye on Ruth, copying her every move, including shaking out her napkin and spreading it across her lap like a blanket. You could tell she was trying her best to be dainty and ladylike. This did not stop her, however, from kicking Harlan under the table when he crammed three cookies in his mouth at once.
    â€œWhat’d ya do that for, Lucille?” he wailed, spitting crumbs all over Miss Sary’s pretty tablecloth. “You ain’t supposed to kick when you’re company!”
    Lucille just shook her head. “You are like to be the death of me, Harlan Boyd.”
    That’s when Ruth took charge of the conversation, asking about Miss Sary’s people and her schooling and if she enjoyed mountain life even though she was an outsider.
    â€œOh, I don’t feel like an outsider at all!” Miss Sary exclaimed at that last question. “This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, and everyone you meet is so welcoming and generous. People are always bringing us such wonderful things to eat. Pastor Campbell says we live among the salt of the earth, and I couldn’t agree more.”
    â€œBut don’t you find it difficult to talk to those so different from yourself?” Ruth asked, taking a bite of her cookie. “What could you possibly have in common with the people here?”
    Well. My mouth fell wide open at that. Who was Ruth Wells to decide that Miss Sary wasn’t one of us?
    Miss Sary looked thoughtful. “Well, I know at least two people who share my love of encyclopedias and world travel,” she said, smiling at me and James. “I had to come to the mountains to find friends who had that in common with me.”
    Ruth seemed to consider this, but she didn’tsay a word back, just took another cookie from the plate. You could tell she thought Miss Sary was merely being polite.
    I decided to take this opportunity to seek out some news for our reporting project. “You ever see anything shiny out in the woods here, Miss Sary? ’Cause me and Tom, well, we saw something on our way up today.”
    Before Miss Sary had a chance to answer, Ruth turned to Tom and demanded, “What’s this about?”
    Tom looked like he’d rather not say, but Ruth kept glaring at him, so I reckon he felt like he didn’t have a choice. “I thought I saw a girl in the woods, and Arie Mae’s right—she was sort of shining. But then she disappeared.” He glanced over at Miss Sary. “Arie Mae said maybe she was Oza Odom.”
    Miss Sary nodded. “Aunt Jennie’s little girl who died of a fever. I expect that’s who it was.”
    â€œI heard she just wanders around night and day looking for her mama,” I said. “Is that the story you heard, too?”
    â€œThe very one,” Miss Sary agreed.
    Tom reached into his back pocket for his book. “What can you tell me about Mrs. Odom?”
    â€œAunt Jennie? Well, she lives over near Pilgrim’s Gap,” Miss Sary said, “about a mile and half’s walk from here. She’s close to a hundred years old and stays by herself. I visit her the first of every month, and she’s always doing something interesting. Last time I was up there, she was writing down all her recipes—her receipts, she calls them. She said she’d heard tell of such a thing as a library, and she thought any library worth its salt would certainly want a collection of her