Read Online The Secret Sense of Wildflower by Susan Gabriel - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Gabriel
Tags: Historical fiction
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house. In Katy’s Ridge everything is on a hill. We find Daniel just home from work and watering his vegetable garden at the back of the house. Late tomatoes and green beans are coming in and a few summer squash. Pumpkins are growing, too. Yellow starburst blooms dot the vines.
“Hey, Wildflower. Hey, Mary Jane,” he says when he sees us.
I like that he calls me by my chosen name.
“We need to talk to you,” I say, real serious.
He turns over the empty bucket and sits on it like a chair. “I’m ready,” he says, a hand on each knee.
Mary Jane passes me a look that says she’s just appointed me spokesperson. Words stick in my throat like a primed pump that hasn’t pulled water yet. Unlike Mama, who would already be off doing something else, Daniel seems content to wait.
Mary Jane nudges me in the ribs and the words rush out fast. “Johnny Monroe said some things to us he shouldn’t have said.”
“Like what?” Daniel asks.
My stomach feels jittery, like a hive of bees is buzzing around inside. I can’t shake the feeling that God might send lightning or a hailstorm to Katy’s Ridge if I tell what Johnny said, and that even though we didn’t do anything wrong, I’ll end up getting punished for it. I remind myself about what Daddy said about fear being a friend and then wonder if this friend and the secret sense are somehow in cahoots.
“He asked us to go into the woods with him,” I say finally, “and he wanted to show us what was in his pocket.” The words don’t sound as bad as Johnny’s actions.
“He unbuttoned his overalls and touched himself!” Mary Jane blurts, like this is the part she’s been dying to say.
Daniel’s eyes widen, like the whole picture has come as crystal clear as Syler's Pond. He says something under his breath and then rises from his bucket. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, tucking his shirt-tail into his pants.
“Don’t tell Mama,” I beg Daniel.
“She’s your mama, Wildflower, she has a right to know,” he says.
“She’ll just ask a bunch of her questions and then blame me for it,” I say. “And please don’t tell Jo, either.”
Daniel chews on a piece of straw like he’s thinking hard.
“After Daddy died, you said I could come to you and talk about anything,” I remind him. “You said I could trust you.” I figure this is just what he needs to be able to keep the secret.
Daniel pauses, like he’s giving it some thought. “I guess you don’t want your folks to know about it, either,” he says to Mary Jane.
“No, sir,” she says. “They’ll send me to live in Little Rock with my Granny.”
Daniel agrees to keep our secret but on the condition that if anything like this happens again, he’s telling everybody. Mary Jane and I agree. We even shake on it.
“I’m eating dinner at Mary Jane’s,” I say, “and we have to walk by Johnny to get back to her house.”
“I’ll go with you,” Daniel offers.
“I have to go tell Mama first, about dinner,” I say.
“Come by here when you’re ready to go back,” Daniel says. “Johnny Monroe won’t do anything while I’m around.”
For the first time in ages it feels like the boil on my backside might have been lanced. At the house, Mama is busy canning and doesn’t catch on that anything has happened. When I tell her I’m eating at Mary Jane’s, she looks downright relieved. Before we leave Mama makes us each a big glass of lemonade and asks Mary Jane about her summer in Little Rock, while stirring a big pot of boiling tomatoes. I can’t remember the last time Mama showed this much interest in me. I try not to get jealous because I am sure somewhere in the Bible it says, Thou shalt not be jealous of thy best friend getting attention, or some such thing. The Bible has a saying for everything, especially for the things you should not do.
After we drain the last little bit of sugar out of the bottom of our glasses, Mary Jane and I walk to Daniel’s house again. We enter
“Hey, Wildflower. Hey, Mary Jane,” he says when he sees us.
I like that he calls me by my chosen name.
“We need to talk to you,” I say, real serious.
He turns over the empty bucket and sits on it like a chair. “I’m ready,” he says, a hand on each knee.
Mary Jane passes me a look that says she’s just appointed me spokesperson. Words stick in my throat like a primed pump that hasn’t pulled water yet. Unlike Mama, who would already be off doing something else, Daniel seems content to wait.
Mary Jane nudges me in the ribs and the words rush out fast. “Johnny Monroe said some things to us he shouldn’t have said.”
“Like what?” Daniel asks.
My stomach feels jittery, like a hive of bees is buzzing around inside. I can’t shake the feeling that God might send lightning or a hailstorm to Katy’s Ridge if I tell what Johnny said, and that even though we didn’t do anything wrong, I’ll end up getting punished for it. I remind myself about what Daddy said about fear being a friend and then wonder if this friend and the secret sense are somehow in cahoots.
“He asked us to go into the woods with him,” I say finally, “and he wanted to show us what was in his pocket.” The words don’t sound as bad as Johnny’s actions.
“He unbuttoned his overalls and touched himself!” Mary Jane blurts, like this is the part she’s been dying to say.
Daniel’s eyes widen, like the whole picture has come as crystal clear as Syler's Pond. He says something under his breath and then rises from his bucket. “I’ll take care of it,” he says, tucking his shirt-tail into his pants.
“Don’t tell Mama,” I beg Daniel.
“She’s your mama, Wildflower, she has a right to know,” he says.
“She’ll just ask a bunch of her questions and then blame me for it,” I say. “And please don’t tell Jo, either.”
Daniel chews on a piece of straw like he’s thinking hard.
“After Daddy died, you said I could come to you and talk about anything,” I remind him. “You said I could trust you.” I figure this is just what he needs to be able to keep the secret.
Daniel pauses, like he’s giving it some thought. “I guess you don’t want your folks to know about it, either,” he says to Mary Jane.
“No, sir,” she says. “They’ll send me to live in Little Rock with my Granny.”
Daniel agrees to keep our secret but on the condition that if anything like this happens again, he’s telling everybody. Mary Jane and I agree. We even shake on it.
“I’m eating dinner at Mary Jane’s,” I say, “and we have to walk by Johnny to get back to her house.”
“I’ll go with you,” Daniel offers.
“I have to go tell Mama first, about dinner,” I say.
“Come by here when you’re ready to go back,” Daniel says. “Johnny Monroe won’t do anything while I’m around.”
For the first time in ages it feels like the boil on my backside might have been lanced. At the house, Mama is busy canning and doesn’t catch on that anything has happened. When I tell her I’m eating at Mary Jane’s, she looks downright relieved. Before we leave Mama makes us each a big glass of lemonade and asks Mary Jane about her summer in Little Rock, while stirring a big pot of boiling tomatoes. I can’t remember the last time Mama showed this much interest in me. I try not to get jealous because I am sure somewhere in the Bible it says, Thou shalt not be jealous of thy best friend getting attention, or some such thing. The Bible has a saying for everything, especially for the things you should not do.
After we drain the last little bit of sugar out of the bottom of our glasses, Mary Jane and I walk to Daniel’s house again. We enter
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