Mind Games

“Bless you, Miss Lucy.”

When they’d walked on, Lucy said, “Katie lost her daddy to the black lung some years back, and her mama this past winter to pneumonia. It’s hard when you don’t have people to lean on.”

“What’s the special?” Thea wanted to know.

“Oh, that’s moonshine, honeypot. Billy does make some fine moonshine. He works hard, Billy does. Drinks a little too much of his own special, from time to time, but he works hard. He’s a good husband and a good daddy.”

They made more calls, a bar of soap here, a candle there. She took payment when the item had been requested, or a barter if payment wasn’t ready.

By the time they got back, the dogs were ready for a snooze. Thea sat with her brother and Lucy on the back porch with cold lemonade and some sugar cookies.

“Do you know everybody in the mountains, Grammie?”

“Most hereabouts I do. Some want to keep to themselves, so I leave them be unless they come down for something or other. If somebody needs help, like Katie or old Carl with his bursitis, I help as I can. If I were to need help, help would come.

“I’ve got half a cord of wood over there for when the cold comes. And somebody’ll bring more when I need it. That’s how it works, and should.”

* * *

Every day brought its own adventure. The chores remained the chores, but they were fun. Only at Grammie’s could Thea milk a cow or watch Rem milk a goat. They fed the chickens and gathered eggs. Lucy taught them how to make redeye gravy to go with ham and eggs and grits.

Every night they could stay up past even their no-school bedtime and sit outside. Lucy knew all about the constellations, and Rem got really good at pointing them out by name.

One night they even saw a shooting star, and Rem decided he’d be an astronaut. And every night they took turns reading out loud from the book they chose at the start of the two weeks.

Any book they wanted, and Lucy never said: No, not that book.

Stories, she told them, held the world together. The best part was acting them out, using different voices. Thea had to admit Rem had a talent for it, the way his voice would change from growly to high and shaky or all prissy, depending. And he could make his face to match it, all wide-eyed or slitty-eyed, curled lips or big grins.

He hardly ever stumbled over the words, even the big ones.

Lucy said he was a natural-born actor, like his uncle Caleb, and since he’d be an astronaut, maybe he’d make movies on Mars.

Lucy always tucked Rem in first, and Thea could lie in bed and listen to their voices. Rem always had a million questions, especially at bedtime.

Then Lucy would come in, sit on the side of the bed.

“What’s tonight’s dream?”

“A magic forest.”

“That sounds promising.” Lucy stroked Thea’s hair back. “Is it full of fairies and elves?”

“It has to be, and there’s an evil sorceress and she’s got evil dogs she conjured, with sharp wings and sharper teeth. She wants to rule the forest and everything else, so there has to be a big battle. And there’s a young witch, elf, and fairy who have to, ah, band together and use their powers and like their wits to defeat the sorceress. And a quest, I think. I need to dream it out.”

“I bet you will.” Leaning down, Lucy kissed her cheek. “Maybe one day you’ll write down the dreams and Rem can act them out. Go to dreaming now, my treasure. It’s a whole new day tomorrow.”

As she did almost every night, Thea closed her eyes and began to build the dream.

On mornings when she woke early enough, as she did on this last morning of innocence, she wrote down the dream. The forest with its thick trees, the blue leaves, the golden apples and purple pears. The evil sorceress, Mog, in her long, hooded black robes with strange symbols.

She added some illustrations even though she wasn’t as good as she wanted to be at drawing. Her heroes—Gwyn, the witch; Twink, the fairy; and Zed, the elf—the evil winged dogs she called Wens.

She’d write down more later, as her story-dreams always stayed clear in her head.

She made her bed, because Grammie’s rules, then brushed her teeth. Before she dressed, she checked to see if she’d sprouted breasts overnight.

No luck there, even though she’d started her period two days after her twelfth birthday in April.