Cruel Harvest (8 page)

“What are you looking at, Mama?” I asked.

She did not answer me. Instead, she continued to stare out the window as if I were not in the room. I did my best to follow her gaze, but I did not see anything all that interesting. When I looked up onto her face, there was no expression at all.

Before I could say anything else, the sound of car tires crunching up the driveway caught my attention. It was Daddy coming home. I moved, receding to the far corner of the room. The other children did the same. No one said anything; there was no acknowledgement of the tension that filled the room.

Her trance broken, Mama walked away from the door and stood at the kitchen. The car came to a stop and I heard the door slam shut. Footsteps approached the house. Brenda gathered us all together, trying to keep us quiet so he wouldn't have anything to get angry about.

“Once upon a time,” she whispered. “A prince lived in a giant castle in a great kingdom. He was looking for a wife and . . .”

I listened to Brenda telling us the story of “The Princess and the Pea,” but I watched my parents too. Daddy came into the house and fell heavily into one of the chairs in the kitchen. Mama rushed over to where he sat, got down on her knees by his feet, and pulled his boots off one after the other. When she was done, he handed her a package wrapped in brown butcher paper.

“Fix me this steak,” he said as she knelt at his feet.

When she rose and spun toward the stove to do his bidding, he kicked her in the rear with his stocking feet. Mama stumbled but, thank God, did not fall on the baby in her belly. Daddy laughed and uncapped his mason jar of white lightning. He brought it to his lips and took a long drink, shuddering after from the taste.

Something boiled up inside me and I lost “The Princess and the Pea.” In that moment, I wanted to run across the room and slap his face. The same realization that struck me among the redwoods returned.
I hate my daddy! But how could this be?

The awareness came with a rush of pain and fear. I hated the way my mama had to cower. I hated the way he humiliated her under his feet. I hated that he took my mama away from me. Even more, though, I hated him for making me hate him.

I sat on that floor, barely pretending to listen to Brenda's whispers. I did not look at Daddy, because even at my age, I had enough sense to know if he saw my face he would know how I really felt. Instead, I stared off at that tiny window as the smell of searing steak filled the tiny trailer. Then came the sound of Daddy chewing that steak with his mouth wide open. My stomach growled, and I felt my insides turning.

I was frightened. A child could not hate her father. It was not right. No matter how I tried, though, the fact remained. From that moment until decades later, I hated him.

Mama remained distant
for the month prior to giving birth. She did not tuck me in at night, nor did she tell us any stories. We children lived for those moments when Daddy was not at home, but there was a shadow cast over them. I hoped with everything inside me that the birth of my new sister would change Mama back. I dreamed of the days to come when she would make us bean patties again and dance her funny dances.

Then the day came. Mama followed Daddy out the door and they drove off together, leaving us with Brenda.

“Where is Mama going?” I asked.

“To the hospital. She has to pick up the baby.”

“Oh, I hope it's a little girl.”

Brenda didn't seem excited, but she pulled me to her and hugged me tightly. She gathered us up for the nightly washing before putting us to bed. I lay in the dark, listening to the other children breathing and moving around. I imagined dressing my new sister, feeding her, helping her to walk. I barely slept that night.

Mama and Daddy came back five days later. I thought the time would never come. I had been waiting for the sound of their car every minute since they left. When I finally did, I shouted out and rushed into the living room with the rest of my siblings. It was the happiest I had ever been. I could hear my parents speaking as they headed up the porch steps. I grabbed Susie's hand to keep from jumping up and down. She squeezed hard, and I knew she was as excited as I was.

Daddy walked in first. He saw us gathered there, and I half expected him to tell us to get out of the living room. He didn't, though. Instead, he stepped to the side and let Mama follow him inside. I did not notice how she looked, for I was staring at the pink bundle in her arms. My sister was wrapped in a fresh new blanket that the hospital had given Mama.

Suddenly, all of us circled Mama and welcomed our new baby to the family.

“Is it a girl?” I whispered.

Mama nodded, the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. “Her name is Katherine Yvonne.”

The others asked Mama questions, but I didn't hear any of them. My full attention was on my new sister. She was beautiful! Her hair was jet-black and the thickest I'd ever seen. Her large violet eyes were open and looking right at me. Those eyes held me frozen for a moment, so wise and alert.

I finally broke free of her daze-inspiring beauty and reached out a finger. I touched her warm little cheek. Her skin felt like a feather that had floated down from heaven. I moved my finger down toward her tiny hand. It was pink and balled into a tight tiny fist. When I touched it, her hand opened and her fingers wrapped around mine.

I loved my sister even before that moment. When she held my finger, a bond even deeper than love spread through us both. It was the bond only sisters can feel.

“Can I hold her?” I asked.

“Not yet,” Mama said, smiling. This was the first time she had smiled in so long! I wanted to believe that my mama was back and everything would be all right. I smiled back at her, holding back the urge to jump up and hug her around the neck.

Instead, I shadowed Mama as she took care of Katherine. Everyone piled upon the sofa to watch Mama feed the baby from a bottle. We heard Katherine's voice soon after. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard, like the coo of a dove. Eventually, the others left to go outside and play, but I stayed close, sitting on the sofa beside Mama and my baby sister. At one point, Mama looked at me. Without saying a word, she gently placed Katherine, swaddled in the blanket from the hospital, in my lap. I nuzzled her, taking in her smell, so fresh and new.

I sat so still that Katherine did not fuss. Mama watched the entire time, smiling as she used to. After a while, my arms cramped up and my legs got uncomfortable, but I did not move at all. I knew that if Katherine fussed Mama would take her from me, and I wanted to hold this soft bundle from heaven forever.

I fell asleep
that night thinking about what I would do with Katherine the next day. I planned out the feedings and how I would find a more comfortable place to sit when I held her. I was smiling when sleep finally overtook me.

It felt as though I slept for only minutes when I awoke with a start. The trailer was filled with an awful sound, one I could not immediately place. Then, to my horror, I realized it was my baby sister crying. Even my inexperienced ears knew this was not the normal sound of a baby's cry. It was something far worse. She sounded as if she was in pain.

Above the screams, I heard Daddy's voice. I could not make out the words, but he was yelling at Mama. I tried to hear what was being said, hoping the words would tell me that Katherine was okay. Instead, the screaming and shouting continued.

The baby's pain-filled cries grew louder and louder. I had to know if Katherine was okay. I pushed the wool cover away and sat up. Brenda's hand immediately gripped my wrist, pulling me back to the floor.

“Kathy's crying,” I whispered, trying to shake free of her grip.

“Hush!” Brenda whispered harshly. “Be quiet and lay back down! Don't make a sound!”

Her tone was like nothing I had heard from her before. She spoke harshly to me for the first time in our life together. I covered my ears with the blanket, pressing the rough fabric into my ears. Brenda held onto my wrist as the screaming and shouting resonated through the blanket in muffled waves. I lay there awake for hours.

When morning came, it brought tragedy.

Chapter 6
On the Run

That first Thanksgiving
holiday after I was reunited with Brenda, finally being able to touch her and see her sweet face again started me thinking about my family even more than ever. It is sad how a shadow can fall over people, get in between them, and tear them apart. My family was scattered all over the United States. Worse, I believe there was a fear living in us all that somehow, getting back together might resurrect Daddy's darkness. Seeing Brenda again made me realize even more how much I longed for them all. The feeling was overwhelming. The intimacy between us returned with each story she told. I also felt something else stirring, as though a gaping hole deep inside my heart had slowly begun to mend. After only three days with my sister, I felt a peace, like what I hoped coming home would feel like.

On the last day of our visit, my husband, Wayne, was out front in the driveway of Brenda's house putting the suitcases in our van. I sought out my sister one last time. I found her in the kitchen taking care of everyone and everything. It was as though time shifted in that moment. She was fifteen again, the way she looked before Katherine was born and before we made that last trip all together to California.

One thing was very different, though. She was no longer that frightened, cowering girl. The shadow had left her, and she had found her place in this beautiful family of hers. She was deeply appreciated and loved by them all, and it warmed my heart. At the same time, it brought back the past. It was not long after Katherine's birth that Brenda left us.

“I missed you with all my heart when you left,” I said to Brenda. “I felt like my soul was empty, and I didn't understand why.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Brenda said. “I thought you'd find a better life. I am so sorry.”

I did not say anything right away. I could hear Wayne outside packing the car.

“I dream of Katherine sometimes,” I said softly. “Her lovely angel eyes, mostly.”

Brenda nodded. “She was a beautiful baby.”

When I awoke
the morning after Mama brought Katherine home, I knew something awful had happened. My sister was not making a sound, and Daddy looked like a wild man. He hadn't combed his thick black hair and his eyes were bloodshot. All of us children sat on the broken sofa, afraid to speak. There was a deathly quiet mood in the trailer, and Mama was not in sight. Daddy ordered us all into the back room. I heard him yelling at Mama through the closed door, and I heard her crying softly. Eventually, the front door opened and swung closed with a bang. The car engine sounded and the tires rolled up the drive. Then they were gone.

I did not see my parents leave with Katherine that next morning, but we knew Daddy had taken her somewhere because she was not in the trailer. We were alone for what seemed like hours. When the car returned, Katherine was not with them. Daddy walked into the trailer and ordered everyone to sit on the sofa. He glared down over us and his eyes had that fire behind them, the kind that seemed about to boil to the surface and erupt on us all. Mama walked through the room without a word or a glance in our direction. She closed the door to the back bedroom.

“Your baby sister is dead.” The words burst out of Daddy without a touch of compassion. Instead, his eyes dared us to react. “Let's have it. What did you hear last night?”

He searched our faces, his searing glare landing on me, then Susie. He was searching all of our faces. He seemed anxious and angry at the same time. I almost answered him, but Brenda spoke first with enough authority to keep me quiet.

“We all slept right through the night, Daddy. None of us heard anything.”

She squeezed my hand and I looked at her. Her face said one thing,
stay silent
. Daddy continued to stare at each of us.

“What about them? Ya'll hear anything?”

“No,” Brenda quickly answered again. “We all slept sound.”

“What about you, Nellie? I know you heard something.”

Nellie shook her head and Brenda answered once more, saying she heard nothing. Daddy hammered us like a drill sergeant, but Brenda never wavered. Finally, he gave up. I could not understand at the time why he spent so much effort questioning us and didn't seem to be horrified that his baby daughter was dead. “All right,” he barked.

“I don't want
any
of you mentioning Katherine's name—ever. Do you understand? She's dead, and I better never hear her name again.”

I tried my best to hide my anger at Daddy and the fact that my heart was broken. We all quickly nodded our heads when he finished speaking. After he was satisfied that we had not heard the baby crying during the night, he started barking out orders.

“Brenda, go help your mama pack the stuff up. We're leaving.”

Brenda moved like lightning, giving Daddy as wide a berth as she could, and rushed around gathering our belongings. Soon Mama joined her, and together they packed the few pots and pans, our handful of dishes, some flour and cooking oil, and the clothes and blankets we slept on. Daddy carried the small kerosene stove out to the car, and Mama and Brenda followed with their hands full. In no time at all, we were packed into the car. We left Michigan without my baby sister. Her death certificate read, “obstruction to the duodenum.” But she didn't have an obstruction the five days she stayed in the hospital or they would not have released her. We weren't allowed to attend a funeral for Katherine. I sat in the backseat with tears streaming down my face as we drove away, leaving her alone. I silently whispered goodbye to her as we drove down the gravel road to the highway heading out of town. I knew that she was in heaven, in the arms of Jesus, and that I would see her again one day. I imagine her smiling face and large violet eyes will meet me one day, as she says, “Where have you been? I've been waiting for you.”