SECRET IN THE CELLAR Read online

  Sammie was still by the window when she heard the front door open. Panic set in. What if he saw the open cellar door? He would know someone had been inside. Holding her breath, she waited. There was no movement off the porch. Tiptoeing, she moved to the corner of the house. Peering around, she saw Cecil sitting on the steps of the porch. He was looking up at the stars. There was longing in his face. An ache filled Sammie. She wanted to go to him.

  Slinking back into the shadows, she waited until she heard the door close as he went inside. She watched as the lights went out. Slowly, she moved back to the hole in the ground. Sighing, she took the steps slowly. She hated having to return to the solitude; the quiet nothingness. This was the way she had lived for six years. No one to talk to. Nothing to live for.

  Without turning on the lamp, Sammie closed the door and felt for the bed.

  Chapter 3

  Each day became the same. Monday through Friday, Danny went to school and Cecil fed the animals, milked the cow, and drove the tractor to the fields. When Danny came home in the late afternoon, he gathered the eggs and went straight into the house.

  Curiosity led Sammie to venture into the sunlight to see what Danny did in the house. Stepping on the box she could see him washing dishes in the big dishpan. After he dried them and put them away, he washed the towels and hung them to dry by the stove. It was a routine repeated every day. Blue watched her through the window, but he never left his rug on the floor. His soft woof echoed out through the quiet. Danny ignored him.

  Sammie enjoyed being on the farm. She had it to herself; except for Ole Blue, when he didn’t follow the tractor into the field.

  “Nice doggy,” Sammie said apprehensively, during her first encounter with the big hound, “you won’t bite me, will you? Come here Old Blue.”

  She tentively extended her hand to the old blue dog. He sniffed for a moment then turned away. Sighing, Sammie knew she had won. He wouldn’t be barking at her.

  Sammie was able to take a quick washcloth bath every other day. It wasn’t the same as a bath, but it would have to do.

  She made sure the canteen was full of water each time she returned to the cellar. Before father and son returned, she was back in her underground home. She’d watch from the safe walls as they returned home each evening.

  Looking through the window each night, Sammie longed for the taste of fresh cooked food. For days she debated whether to cook or not. She knew the routine. She knew what time each returned home.

  Walking back to the cellar, Sammie had a determined look on her face. A plan was formulating. She was beside herself. She couldn’t wait to put her plan into action.

  With a long sigh, Sammie moved to the open chicken pen door as soon as she heard the tractor leave the next morning.

  “All right, girls, I want some fresh eggs for breakfast. I don’t want to take any from the house, so I guess I’ll have to invade your pen. I know you have eggs because I heard you cackling.”

  Sidestepping small mounds of drying curls of poop, Sammie made her way to the nests. One nest was open. Three eggs lay inside the pile of hay.

  “Well, well, breakfast.”

  A hen, sitting next to her, squawked. Sammie jumped.

  “I know I can do this,” she said aloud. “If Danny can, then I can.”

  Extending her hand, she moved it carefully into the nest and pulled out two golden brown eggs. Smiling, she turned and left the pen.

  “The cow is next,” she triumphantly said as she moved toward the barn.

  “I can do this,” she kept saying.

  Taking the stool from outside the stall door, Sammie entered.

  “You’re a lot bigger than I thought,” she said nervously.

  Standing for a moment she looked the cow over carefully.

  “Where do I get the milk?” she finally blurted out.

  The cow turned and looked at her.

  “It’s got to come from those…those things under there.”

  Sitting down on the stool, Sammie reached under the cow and pulled on one of the teets. Nothing happened.

  “Okay, there must be a little trick to it,” she said, pressing her lips together.

  Nodding, she tried again. The cow’s tail hit her face as it turned to look at her again.

  “Stop that!” she said, wiping her face. Again, she moved her hand beneath the cow. This time a small stream of milk squirted onto the ground.

  “I forgot a pail!” she shouted.

  Running out of the barn, Sammie ran to the cellar and retrieved a pint fruit jar.

  The warm milk steamed as it filled the jar. Sammie smiled.

  “Now, I can milk the cow and get my own fresh milk when I want a glass. It will be good on these cool nights.”

  Even though the nights were getting cooler, Sammie enjoyed watching the little family inside the house each evening. She pulled her old coat close as she stood on her box at the window. The routine was working and it was becoming pleasant; almost like she lived with the two. Ole Blue never looked at the window anymore, but he knew she was there.

  When Cecil left the porch each night, she watched until his light went out. She didn’t look into his room. That would be too familiar. So, she watched how the light played on the ground outside the window before the darkness took over, and then she found her way back to the cellar.

  Sammie was surprised one morning by the sound of an automobile coming into the yard. It was unusual. Not part of the usual routine. The farm didn’t have visitors except for an occasional worker coming to the house to get paid.

  She quietly lifted the door and placed the rock in position. An old black pickup was just pulling in front of the house. Sammie didn’t recognize the two men who got out, but in a moment Cecil was on the porch greeting them.

  Sammie watched the tall, lanky man of the house as he fastened one side of his overalls. His bare feet moved as the cold wood of the porch touched them. Motioning to the others, he turned and went back into the house.

  There was dust still coming up the road. Sammie watched as a car parked next to the pickup. The small, dark haired woman behind the wheel stepped out and moved toward the house. Sammie recognized Linda in an instant. There was a man with her that Sammie didn’t recognize. He followed Linda toward the house. Soon, Sammie heard the screen slam shut. She wondered what was going on for so many people to be at the house.

  Lowering the door, Sammie lit the lamp and sat down. This was going to be a long day, she decided.

  God, don’t let them come into the cellar. I would die if they found me.

  Settling on the bed, she picked up the bible. It was a comfort to her during the time she had to stay secluded. There was peace and contentment in the word and it made her feel safe.

  Hours passed. Sammie found herself sleeping intermittently. She ate a few dried apples and then shelled a few pecans and munched on them. She wondered what was going on in the house. The suspense was getting to her. Slowly, she opened the door a small amount. The car was gone. So was the pickup. Puzzled, she opened the door a little more. She could see the sun low in the sky.

  What time was it, she wondered. She listened for any sound coming from the yard. Nothing. Opening the door a little more, she looked around. The yard was empty, but there was a curious smell in the air. It smelled putrid. Sammie didn’t like the stench. It burned her nose.

  Pushing the door completely open, Sammie stepped out and ran to the corner of the house. She could hear stirrings inside. Peering through the kitchen window, she could see Cecil getting plates from the safe. Danny was seated and waiting patiently. Fresh baked bread was on the table with a jar of preserves and butter. How Sammie wished she could smell the bread instead of what she was smelling.

  “Aunt Linda sure did us good, Pa. I’m glad she came and baked this bread for us.”

  “I’m glad she did the wash and cleaned up in here,” Cecil said as he put a plate in front of his son.

  “I try to keep it clean, but sometimes I get ti
red,” Danny said through a mouthful of bread.

  “I know you do, son, and I appreciate everything you do. You do a fine job, but there’re just some things you’re too young to do.”

  “So, why did Aunt Linda yell at you about the house? And, why does she keep saying I need to stay with her for awhile?”

  Sammie choked. Linda still wanted Danny to live with them? Cecil needed him! His son was what kept him going. What nerve Linda had! No one should try to separate a child from his parent! Why…why it was---.

  Sammie stopped. Her mind was made up. She would start doing some of the chores around the house while Danny and Cecil were gone. She could do that much for her keep.

  “She thinks I need a housekeeper or something since I don’t get everything done. I told her nothing doing. You and me, partner, can do what needs to be done. Some things can be just left undone until I have time to do them.” Cecil said as he dabbed at the jelly on Danny’s face. “I told her we’re in this together, just you and me. I’m sorry you had to see your aunt leave in such a tizzy but she was being unreasonable.”

  “That’s all right, Pa, but I will miss her making bread for us. Maybe one of us can learn how.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Pa, do you think Aunt Linda will come back to see us?” Danny asked, as he dusted his hands on his pants. Jam covered the edges of his mouth.

  “Oh, sure, one of these days we’ll see her drive up. Don’t you worry about it, you hear?” Cecil grabbed Danny around the neck and gave it a little squeeze.

  Watching Cecil, Sammie could see sadness in his face. A grimace touched his lips and a crease crossed his forehead. This man is going through torture, she thought. He’s trying to keep up a strong front so his son can’t see his pain.

  Sammie wondered how long it would be before Linda would come again and try to take Danny away.

  Moving into the shadows, she watched as Cecil left the room. A few minutes later she heard the front door open and then the screen. Quietly moving to the corner, she stood in the dark and stared at the lone figure sitting on the porch. Her heart lurched. She wanted to walk to him and tell him she would keep the house clean and cook the meals, but she was grounded. How could she explain who she really was and why she had been hiding for weeks in his cellar? Quietly Sammie turned and retreated to the cellar. Tears filled the quilt that evening.

  The sound of the tractor brought Sammie out and into the sunlight the next morning. The air was crisp. Quickly, she moved to the back door and entered. Three days had passed since she had moved from the cellar. Her mind had been strategically finding ways to help the little family without getting caught. It wouldn’t be easy, but she was going to give it a try.

  Washing the dishes, she surveyed the room. The stove needed cleaning. There was food stuck to the top. Sammie poured a little water on the food. Taking a spoon, she moved it back and forth across the dried food until it loosened. Using the soapy dishrag, she wiped the top of the stove. When she was finished, she mopped the floor. Looking around, she was satisfied with her work. Taking the dishpan outside, she poured the water where she had seen Danny dump it out. Returning to the house, she smiled.

  If only I could do this everyday, she thought. I would be so happy living here with them.

  She started out the door, but stopped. Turning she went into Danny’s room. There were clothes lying on the floor. She couldn’t see any clean pants or shirts anywhere. Picking up two shirts and a pair of pants, she took them outside. A large tub was leaning against the wall. Filling it half full, she placed soap in the water, then the clothes. She had never washed clothes before, but she had seen other women do it. Her hands became red as she scrubbed on the pants. When she was finished, she looked around for a place to pour the water. For the first time all day, she thought about consequences of getting caught.

  “I have to put the water somewhere,” she said aloud, “but where?”

  Sammie twisted around several times. Suddenly, her eyes fell on the hog pen. Dragging the tub to the side of the pen, she tilted it so the water would run out beside the pen. Returning to the yard, she added clean water. Rinsing the clothes, she carefully hung them on the line. Again, she dragged the tub to the hog pen and emptied it. Taking a limb from a small tree, she brushed the marks on the ground away so they couldn’t be seen.

  Going into the cellar, she pulled several jars and cans from the shelves. Carefully balancing them, she carried them up the steps and to the kitchen. Looking in the cabinet, she tried to remember where she had seen jars and cans of the same kinds before. By adding a few at a time, Sammie hoped Cecil or Danny wouldn’t need to go into the cellar. She also hoped they wouldn’t get suspicious of the food appearing.

  As she started closing the cabinet door, her eyes caught sight of a book. Taking it out, she gave a whoop. It was a cookbook.

  “I can read the recipes and cook!” she cried. Hugging the book, she headed out the back door. Grabbing clothes from the line, she hurried back in and put them in a drawer. She pushed the drawer closed then changed her mind and opened the drawer. Danny would need to see the clean clothes in the drawer.

  Sammie could hear the rattling of the old bus just as she closed the door of the cellar. She had left the house just in time. With the rock in place, she watched as Danny petted the old dog and then ran to the back door for his egg basket. He stayed longer than usual and Sammie became nervous. A few minutes later he came through the door and ran to the henhouse. Sammie sighed, “So far, so good.”

  As evening came, Sammie took her usual place on the box as the family settled into their chairs. She held her breath waiting for one of them to say something about the clean dishes or the mopped floor. Nothing. Relief escaped her lips as father and son later moved into the living room.

  Sammie quietly moved to another window. There was the usual roughhousing taking place. After a short time, Cecil carried Danny to bed.

  Sammie ran to the other side of the house. Peeking in, she could see Danny saying his prayers and hugging his father’s neck. After pecking Danny on the cheek, Cecil reached for the light chain, turned it off, and left the room.

  Listening for the door to open, Sammie waited patiently. It didn’t happen. The lights went out instead.

  Walking back to the cellar, Sammie was puzzled. The routine was broken. Was Cecil tired? Was he getting over Lydia and didn’t need a few minutes of solitude? She felt alone. Her routine was gone.

  Chapter 4

  Sammie awakened early. Wrapping a quilt around her small frame, she started for the stairs then stopped.

  “I forgot, it’s Saturday,” she mumbled. She hated Saturdays. It meant she had to stay in hiding all day to avoid detection. Sitting down in the chair, she put her face in her hands.

  Father, I’m so tired of living in this cold hole. I want to be living in a house and cooking my food. I want a family.

  Sammie stopped. She wanted a family. Not just any family, but the family that lived in the house right there on the farm. She wanted Cecil and Danny.

  Rattling outside the door caused Sammie to jerk her head up. Fear sprang into her throat. What if Cecil was coming down into the cellar? Quickly, she blew out the lamp and fanned the smoke. Creeping into the darkest area behind the bed, she waited.

  The door swung open and Cecil took the first step.

  “Pa, can Ole Blue and me play in the field for awhile?”

  “Sure. Just remember not to stay out too late. I’ll be making supper soon.”

  “What are you going in the cellar for?”

  “I need some things for supper. We need some meat inside. You go on and play now, or you won’t have time.”

  “Okay, Pa,” Danny said as he ran toward the field. “Come on, Ole Blue!”

  Sammie moved closer to the darkness. Without lighting the lamp, Cecil moved down into her sanctuary.

  Looking around for a moment, he sniffed the air then shrugged. Turning, he looked at jars on the shelves. Setting three out, he
turned to the salt bacon and drew some out of the barrel. Grabbing the jars again, Cecil headed back up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, he stopped again and looked down in the cellar. Frowning, he turned and took the last step then closed the door.

  Sammie sighed. Sinking down at the end of the bed, she shuttered. It would have been over if he had lit the lamp. He would have felt the heat on the globe. She could have been discovered and out of the cellar.

  Sammie cried into the quilt. That wasn’t what bothered her the most. Cecil was so close, yet so far away. She could have reached out and touched his foot.

  Getting up, Sammie felt her way to the steps and climbed up. The rock had been removed. She could hear Danny’s loud childish voice on the other side of the door. Waiting, she heard the voice move farther away. Slowly, she raised the door a smidgen and looked around. Cecil and Danny were standing halfway between the cellar and the house. Cecil was handing one of the jars to his son.

  “I thought you were going to the field.”

  “I changed my mind. The plants are dying and they scratch my legs. Pa, are you going to bake me a pie for my birthday?” Danny asked. “You know I like peach pie. Could you bake one? Mama always baked me a pie,” Danny bowed his head. A tear dropped. “I miss Mama. She always made my birthday special.”

  Cecil shook his head. If the boy only knew, he thought.

  Squatting, he put his arms around Danny. “Son, you know I don’t do that kind of thing. Maybe your aunt Linda will come out and have one baked for you. Anything could happen by next Tuesday. Let’s see.”

  Sammie’s heart lurched. Danny was crying. She wanted to open the door and rush to him. He needed a woman to lean on. He needed a mother. Tears formed. Sammie knew her heart was ruling her head, but she had to bake Danny a birthday pie. She had to.

  Cecil patted Danny and walked toward the house. Turning around, Sammie made her way to the table and felt around for the matches. After her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked at the cookbook and nodded.