Light to the Hills: A Novel by Bonnie Blaylock

Author:Bonnie Blaylock [Blaylock, Bonnie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2022-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Finn’s crooked smile played on his lips even while he slept. Amanda let her eyes linger over his face, studying the lines of his jaw and the straight slope of his nose, his lashes so long they curled up the slightest bit at the ends. She breathed deeply, testing the safety of him as he lay there, the cautious borders around her heart giving way. She’d loved before and been fooled. It was a mistake she would not make twice.

Frank had promised independence and adventure. It wouldn’t be long, he’d said, before he and Gripp had raked in enough for Frank and her to be able to make their way to the West. It might be a push getting through the middle of the country, which the papers reported were dried up like a raisin, with clouds of dust blowing in your eyes day and night, but they were young and tough. Although the gold had petered out in California long ago, Frank had met folks on his travels who told him about a rock-studded ocean, palm trees, and nothing but sunshine. Not to mention Hollywood. You never knew who you might run up against in California. They might see Greta Garbo or Clark Gable at the dry-goods store, movie stars like in the papers. Wouldn’t folks back in the mountains go crazy over a postcard that carried news like that?

Pa had married them at the church on one of the last warm days of fall, with Amanda wearing Mama’s lavender linen-and-lace dress and Frank all shaved and prim, with suspenders on. She’d scoured the woods early that morning before the dew had burned off, gathering a bouquet of trillium, wild violets, and devil’s bit. She tucked a few in her pinned-up hair and walked to the front of the church, with one of the deacons fiddling sweet, wavering notes that made Mama cry. Frank gave her a thin gold band. It was her first and only piece of jewelry, and she felt like a queen.

When Frank showed up after working his odd jobs, they’d walk the mile path down to the creek and spread a quilt, eating supper with their fingers while the long stretches of daylight lasted and then lying passionately together under the moon. More than once, Mama pulled leaves from Amanda’s hair while they sat together, piecing quilts or mending.

“There’s perfectly good straw ticking up in the loft,” she’d said. “I don’t see how you’re not eaten up with ticks and chiggers.”

Amanda had only smiled. Frank loved it outside in the open air. Their entertainment was each other and a private concert of the rippling creek and the whippoorwill calls, giving way to the chorus of tree frogs as dusk disappeared into night. It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach sour at breakfast and pushed away the plate of hard-boiled eggs.

“I wouldn’t eat those if I were you,” she’d told Mama. “They smell like they’ve gone off.”

“Nothing in the world a bit wrong with them eggs,” Mama snapped, pushing them right back.

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