Spirit Unbroken: Abby's Story

By Jeanne McElvaney

In Abby Carters everyday world, appearance is not reality. There are black holes in her All-American, small-town family. In these moments of no boundaries, Abbys body is the pawn and each violation is stored in a place that cannot be recalled.

Not knowing the secrets held in the deep corners of her mind, Abby creates normal out of chaos. She doesnt understand what is driving her choices, but she will take you to the joy and nostalgia of childhood in the 1950s. She will grab your heart and turn yourworld upside down as you witness innocence celebrated and violated.

"Spirit Unbroken" honors the wonder and beauty of resilient personal spirit.

Thrust from lascivious, cold power back into childhood, Abby warmed her innocence by being a good girl. She had a smile for everyone. She was helpful, kind, and responsible though she was never seeking approval. Her quest was reconciliation with her self. Abby was shaping her place in the world, not knowing what drove her choices.

Powerful and unsettling, this story held me captive. LM

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456747336

Jeanne McElvaney

Jeanne McElvaney is all about the beauty of personal spirit and the power of energy. For the past 40 years, she has been celebrating, exploring, and writing about the wonder of these forces. A master of language and feelings, her fiction is often a journey of insight. Warmed by family connections and rich friendships, Jeanne is a muse to many and learns some of life’s greatest lessons from her grandchildren. Her awesomely supportive husband and delightfully distracting dog share life with her in California where they live in possibilities. GoToSpirit.com Facebook / Go To Spirit

Book preview

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Chapter 118

Chapter 119

Chapter 120

Chapter 121

Chapter 122

Chapter 123

Chapter 124

Chapter 125

Chapter 1

It wasn’t anything she thought about one way or another. The question of her survival curved around the corners of her inner world where no conscious thought intruded on her day-to-day life.

At five years old, she had no philosophy about dying and its meaning though she knew the guppies had died when they had been left on the counter while her sister cleaned out the fish bowl. She had seen the six puppy tail’s die when her father had cut them off so the hunting dogs could point. Abby knew dying meant you quit moving and you got thrown in the garbage can or flushed down the toilet. It wasn’t like going to sleep. This little girl had watched and the guppies and puppy tails didn’t come back the next day or ever again.

She played like all the children in her small neighborhood in the southern corner of her small town, but death and spiders crawled at the edges. Abby had no idea she was more intimate with life ending than her playmates. It was simply as much a part of her world as the toe jam she carefully rolled out between her toes each night after she put on her pajamas. There were bumblebees lying on the sidewalk, rattlesnakes at the side of the dirt roads, and dead ducks swinging from her father’s hands after he had been gone all day.

Abby could not have told anyone why death was a shadow companion. That experience, at four years old, was locked safely away in the far, deep reaches of her awareness. While her life could not assure her safety, her mind tenderly stepped forward to shield her from knowledge that would paralyze her opportunities to laugh, play, learn, love, and grow in circumstances out of her control. Her mind could protect her from the memory, but it could not block the deep, profound inner knowing that guided her choices and begged the constant question, Would she survive?

Abby cleared the dinner table with a smile that could not be turned into a squabble with her older sister, Wendy, who kept ‘accidentally’ bumping into her. Today, after a full summer of swimming nearly every day, she had swum under water without plugging her nose. All afternoon she had practiced going under and blowing out just like her friend, Darla, had shown her. Tomorrow she was going to walk out into the water until it covered her shoulders and then try to swim back under water all the way to the beach. It had never been done before, but now she could swim faster and she didn’t go every which way like she did when she used one hand to swim and the other to hold her nose.

She really was getting to be a big girl. It wasn’t long before she would be going to her first day of school. Just this morning she had played with Darla while her mother and two other ladies cleaned her basement. Abby had heard all about the kindergarten and how it really was school even though Wendy said it was a baby school because it was only going to be downstairs and not at the grade school across town.

But Abby didn’t care what Wendy said. She was going to have books and paper and a real teacher. And her mother told her she was very lucky to have school in her own house because then she only had to walk down the stairs on cold days. Abby was convinced it was going to be wonderful. She couldn’t wait.

With all the food put away and the dishes stacked beside the sink, Wendy went off to the room she shared with Abby. She had two new Little Lulu comic books to read. Abby’s little sister, Katie, was busy taking the pans out of the cupboard, something she loved to do several times a day. Abby went to the stairwell leading upstairs to the two bedrooms and found her doll where she had left it at the side of the first step. She hugged her friend and, holding her gently, went to the bathroom to get a comb. She was going to go down to the clean basement that was going to be a school room for the first ever kindergarten in Lakeville.

Her knees bent, she sat on the cement floor between her feet as only a child can do. It was cool in the basement and quiet; a comfortable place where her two sisters wouldn’t bother her with a two-year-old’s desire to share everything and an eight-year-old’s bossy interference. It was just Abby and her doll as her dad sat upstairs in his chair with his after-dinner coffee and her mother was mixing a batch of chocolate chip cookies to bake in the cooler evening air. She could hear the kitchen sounds at the top of the stairs in front of her, but they were muted just as the smell of the dirt in the basement crawlspace next to her was a distant impression. It was just her and her doll.

Her special companion’s hair was a mess of tangles and Abby’s small fingers worked persistently, pulling the strands of stiff, waxy doll curls apart. She leaned ever closer into her task to help her see better, but it was also her undiluted concentration that brought her head down while everything around her receded. The fabric arms and legs flopped from side to side and time slipped by as she separated the strands of tacky fibers.

And then, in one jarring, disorienting moment, Abby’s world fell away as she was jerked to her feet by her father’s strong hand grabbing her upper right arm. Up she went. Her last connection to the moment held in the vivid image of her doll falling to the floor, landing with her arms and legs tangled just like her hair.

In an experience where time folds in on itself, sometimes stretching endlessly without reprieve or existing with no continuity as events segment into garish sensations, Abby thought of nothing but her knee twisted in suspended pain. It was her knee, her right knee. Her knee had her complete attention… beyond her naked body hung from the basement beams, beyond the rope tied around her ankles, and more than the dizziness from being turned, turned, turned, turned and then released to swing as the rope unwound. The pain in her knee was more vivid than anything happening. The blood rushing to her head did not make a difference, neither did the fingers pushing and pressing in her butt. It was her knee. And then there was nothing until he pulled up her shorts and dragged her shirt over her head, telling her to go take her bath and go to bed.

Wendy was already in the tub, and Abby slipped into the end with the faucet, careful that her head didn’t bump the protrusion as it often did when they played. Together they made puffs with the three washcloths floating in the water. Over and over they laid the washrags on the surface and gathered the corners beneath the water until air was caught and they could lift them out. Wendy made big, fat puffs. Abby’s were noticeably smaller because she couldn’t do it like her older sister. But her washcloth worked just as well when it came time to rub it on the bar of soap to wash her feet, neck, and hands.

In her pajamas, ready for bed with her hair washed and wet, Abby started looking for her doll, Annie. She couldn’t find her on the stairway where she had put her before dinner. The doll wasn’t on her bed where she usually laid when they weren’t playing together.

Get Annie, her mother admonished as bedtime came. It’s time for bed.

I can’t find her, Abby answered. Someone took her. I left her on the stairs.

Then she must be there now, she was told. Look under the pile of blocks. She’s probably under the toys we put there after dinner.

No, Abby protested quietly, tears forming. I already looked. She isn’t there. I don’t know where she went.

Abby didn’t have to look at her mother to know she was close to being sent to bed without Annie. She could hear it in her voice. Those tears tell me you are too tired to think and no wonder, after all the swimming you did. You can look for Annie tomorrow.

But…

No buts, Abby. It’s time for bed. Now go kiss Daddy goodnight and run up upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in.

When Abby’s mother kissed her goodnight and turned off the light, Abby immediately rolled away from Wendy who began telling her yet another story about the monster under the bed. She fell asleep bewildered and imagined Annie was crying too. She was sure her doll didn’t like being alone either.

Chapter 2

It was the first day of school. Abby Carter had her pencil box neatly arranged with three pencils sharpened, facing the same direction; their erasers were still unmarked by any use. The sliding top, that was also a ruler, was especially fascinating to the kindergartener. Wendy had told her it was used for measuring and then they had practiced – on their toes, fingers, and a strand of hair Wendy had pulled out of Abby’s scalp before she could refuse the stinging snap.

The classroom had been created by several mothers in town who had decided to use the Carter’s basement because it was large and had an outside entry. It was also centrally located and easy on the budget for the families who were determined to give their young children this opportunity even if the tax levy had not passed.

Though Abby hadn’t gone down the stairs since the day last week when her mother went down to do the laundry and found Annie on the floor, she had heard the shuffling of furniture and watched the trucks arrive with the desks and chairs. She had wondered what had happened to the laundry basket at the bottom of the chute that came out of the two bathrooms upstairs. She had wondered, but hadn’t felt curious enough to go down with her older sister to look. She had played with the Dominoes instead, making long tracks of black tiles across the linoleum floor in her bedroom.

This morning, Abby stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the basement. Gripping her pencil box, she heard her mother tell her it was time for school, but she didn’t want to go. It didn’t matter that she was wearing the new dress her mother had sewed for her. All pink with a white collar and white bands around the edge of the sleeves that capped her shoulders, it was dotted with little rectangles of colored threads and Abby stood silent, rubbing the stitched patches, pushing the fabric against her thigh as she looked down the length of the stairs to the rug at the bottom.

She waited on the landing next to the kitchen, unable to move. The lights were on in the basement. Her mother was peeling an apple for her little sister. Her dad had gone to work. And the basement opened its hungry mouth like the monster Wendy said lived under their bed.

Sometimes, an apparently simple act for most is a feat of tremendous courage for another. In this still moment, Abby heard the teacher’s voice. Then she heard Darla and Maryann. In this once anticipated first day of school with her friends, she took a tentative step to the edge of the stairway. She clutched her pencil box and watched the shiny toes of her new black shoes peak out from under the full shirt of her dress as she slowly took each step. She wasn’t even at the bottom when Steve saw her and ran over in excitement. Everyone was choosing a place to sit.

Abby looked forward and just a little to the left and saw three tables with chairs lined up on each side. She walked quietly through the chatter and giggles to find a place that faced the washer and dryer. Setting her pencil box in front of her, she sat down and waited. It was the first day of school.

Finger paints fascinated, numbers entranced, and spelling delighted Abby during the six months of Kindergarten. She memorized, studied, and followed directions without fail. Her pencils got short and the erasers on the end were worn before the lead ran out, but this meant Abby got a big eraser that wouldn’t even fit in her pencil box. She never lost it. And she never looked behind her when she was at school, even during recess when it rained outside and they played Ring-Around-the-Rosie and Mother-May-I at that back of the basement. It wasn’t that she chose to avoid that corner of the basement. For her, it didn’t exist.

Chapter 3

It was the last day of third grade and Abby wasn’t the only girl crying as she went up to the desk to get her report card and say good-bye to Mrs. Scott, but she had started the cavalcade of tears. She was already missing her very favorite teacher. The tall, rather plain, older woman had drilled her students with reading skills and phonics, but she also found bobby pins in her desk drawer to tame Abby’s curly hair for the class photo.

Everything in the classroom had been orderly and predictable, and Abby had loved her school year. She liked reading books without pictures. She devoured all the rules about using words in sentences. And when she got her weekly spelling list, she took it home to her bedroom and spent hours memorizing for the test on Friday. The words were quiet, steady, after-school friends just like the multiplication tables.

Third grade brought cursive too. Abby was very aware of this rite of passage into the grownup world. Across the top of the green blackboards the entire alphabet was written, both lower case and upper case. She had worked diligently on every letter, but knew she left for the summer without getting the capital B just right and that was the first letter of her mother’s name.

Tears running down her cheeks, Abby walked down the hall and out the door with the other girls who would be going to the Blue Bird party at Sherry’s house. They weren’t having a regular meeting. That was on Tuesday and, besides, they didn’t meet during the summer. Today was only an afternoon of games and swimming.

Their collective distress dissipated as they came around the corner of the brick elementary school, saw the brown station wagon, and began choosing who would sit next to whom. Abby quit crying too though everything around her felt loud and raw.

She sat next to the door in the back seat behind Mrs. Castle, and it was okay that she was next to Sally, who everyone else quietly avoided. Short, clumsy Sally was a lot like a rambunctious puppy that kept licking until it got unbearable. But sometimes it was okay to feel all the slobber of someone who just wanted to fit in and this was one of those times.

We get to have cupcakes, Candee announced as the car moved out around the line of school buses. I made them with my mommy and… oh, be careful. They’re in that box, she warned Susan who was settling in beside her in the back end of the station wagon.

My gramma says cookies are better than cupcakes because they taste just as good and they are easier to bake, reported Wanda who also sat in the far back.

Chocolate chip cookies are the very best, enthused Darla from the other side of the back seat. Scrambling to her knees, she turned to the back, bumping Sally with her elbow as she settled in to talk to the threesome behind her. I like lots of nuts in mine.

Ick. I hate nuts, screeched Candee.

Sara chimed in from the front seat, next to Mrs. Castle, Me too. They get stuck in my teeth.

I can put a penny between my two front teeth, announced Abby.

No way!

The chorus came from all directions though it wouldn’t have mattered if no one had responded because Abby never felt left out. The veil between her and the commotion of friendships was as much a part of life as losing teeth. She was here and the other kids were out there and she played with them from this side of the invisible divide.

A penny was soon removed from Mrs. Castle’s purse and everyone watched while it slipped easily between Abby’s two front teeth. Then it was passed around to see if anyone else could do the same thing. No one could, but Sara could roll her tongue backwards and Darla could touch her nose with the tip of her tongue. Laughter and shrieks rolled out the open windows while many wet, ineffective attempts were made by everyone present to see if they too could accomplish such a delightful feat.

Abby tried also, but her attention was focused more on Mrs. Castle who had dropped the penny back in her purse and then removed a tube of lipstick. Then, without looking in a mirror, Sally’s mother opened the tube and slid the dark red lipstick across her lower lip. Fascinated, Abby watched as Mrs. Castle smacked her lips together several times and placed the lid back on the tube before putting it back in her purse. The red color had magically spread across her upper lip and none of it was outside the lines. It was like coloring in a coloring book with your eyes closed and not messing up. Abby had never seen such a thing and thought this day was turning out all right, after all.

When they arrived at Sherry’s house, on the other side of the lake, all the Blue Birds scrambled out of the station wagon. They were excited, hungry, and full of summer vacation energy. Candee took her box of cupcakes and asked Wanda to carry her swimsuit and towel while everyone found their own swimwear carelessly tossed together and mixed with school paraphernalia.

Abby got out of her door, holding the bag that had her clothes as well as her report card and turned to the open window on the driver’s side. Thank you, Mrs. Castle.

You’re welcome, Abby. Your mother will pick everyone up at 4:30. You have fun, now.

There was a rush to the kitchen door with giggles and jostling all part of the excitement. Abby was carried along, a willing participant in this celebration. Sherry’s mother, Mrs. Anderson, was so nice. Everything was always just right at Sherry’s house. They even painted the croquet mallets when the paint chipped.

Chapter 4

It had only been two weeks since the Blue Bird party, and Abby could already turn three forward somersaults under water without coming up for breath. She swam every day.

This morning was much like every other week day; she and her two sisters had helped their mother clean the house, picking up all their toys, making their beds, and cleaning their rooms. She and Wendy also made the picnic lunch.

Abby liked this part of the day. It was fun getting everything in order knowing you got to go to the vacant lot down by the lake when the work was done. She anticipated the bologna sandwiches that would be eaten while sitting on beach towels with the other kids who came. Sometimes one of the mothers brought a whole water melon and all her friends would sit on the seawall spitting seeds into the lake.

On this particular day, Wendy had made up a ‘cleaning’ game for her sisters and they had completed their chores so fast they were ready to leave in record time. It was so much fun; the three sisters forgot they were working. Each of them picked up five things and put them away faster than the other person. Then they would play another round until the room was completely clean. They went from room to room together, racing up and down the stairs, grabbing everything in sight, tossing them into closets, cupboards, and drawers. But then Katie started to cry. She could never win. So another rule was added to the game. Katie got to be on both teams, handing toys to Abby and Wendy.

By 11:00, they were piling into the car. Carol came too. She most often did. She lived next-door and, some days, she helped her neighbors clean their house. Today she listened wide-eyed as they described their new game.

By 11:15 Abby was running head-long into the lake. Darla was already trying to float but her face was fully under water when Abby touched her shoulder.

Let’s see how fast we can run through the water, Abby suggested.

And so Darla and her brother, Carol, Wendy, and Katie spent the afternoon trying to run in the water. The rules were established by shouts and compromise. First one thing and then another was added and tried. Towels got wet when they were used as capes. Large rocks were pulled from the pile next to the seawall. Everyone went home tired, sunburned, and filled with childhood pride.

Dinner was over and both Wendy and Katie were in the bathtub downstairs when Abby went up to her bedroom to get her nightie. The two windows were opened wide, showing a clear blue sky as the lake breeze began cooling down their room.

Abby kept looking at that sky. She thought of nothing else when the body that had felt so empowered running against the force of the water that afternoon, now lay limp on her bedspread, her nightie still in her hand. The gentle breeze hypnotically moved the transparent, white curtains as her head rolled to the right and she stared at the blue expanse. Nothing existed except the sky and the voices of the older kids outside as they played into the summer evening and his finger moved in and out between her legs. His other hand held her ankles up in the air. Her pedal pushers were gathered around her knees, Abby was utterly still and silent, listening to the childhood chatter outside her window, lost in the sky.

This night, after she played in the bathtub with Katie and Wendy and dried off, she put on a pair of underpants.

Abby, what are you doing? her mother asked as she helped Kate with her shortie nightie. We don’t wear panties to bed.

Katie’s shortie nightie has panties, Abby quietly pointed out.

That’s true, but they are loose and comfortable. I don’t think you’ll like wearing your regular underpants, Betty answered, reaching for a comb to use on Katie’s hair. They’ll make you hot.

I don’t care, Abby answered.

Well take them off if you can’t get to sleep, her mother responded. I don’t want you up all night.

The underpants were hot and they did feel kind of tight, wrapping around her hips and pinching her thighs and Abby kept them on. They also felt reassuring though she couldn’t have told her mother why.

In the same summer Abby started wearing underpants to bed, a new dentist moved to Lakeville, her dad bought a jeep, and her mother was elected president of the hospital guild. And Abby became aware that others observed her life. She emerged from her childhood cocoon of self and family into the values and viewpoints of her community.

Most of Abby’s friends lived at the end of a short, dirt road in their parent’s apple orchard, but there was just enough interest in the deep lake and sunny summers to fill up the single hotel at the edge of town. Lakeville was a static community with one school, a bank on the corner in the center of town, one grocery store just down the street next to the bowling alley, one hardware store that displayed wheel barrels on the sidewalk in the summer and snow shovels in the winter, and a JC Penney’s that boasted an upstairs balcony with household items. A five-and-dime, with creaky, undulating wood floors, had four aisles of busy, meandering merchandise, but the main street had no stop lights. There was one doctor and now two dentists, but if you wanted to take your pet to the veterinarian or buy a milkshake, you had to drive through the tunnel and along the river for half an hour to the county seat. No one had a jeep with a removable top and only twelve ladies belonged to the hospital guild.

Tonight was Betty’s turn to host the monthly guild meeting. There would be coffee and dessert as well as an evening of bridge after the guild business was discussed. Abby was enthused even if it meant she had to vacuum rather than go to the beach. She liked the bustle of activity and knew her dad would be taking her and her sisters out for dinner and she could order her favorite breaded veal cutlets.

The house was a hive of shared activity while Dr. Carter was at work. Clara, with her arthritic fingers, stern face, and strong back was there to help get ready for the yearly event. The ammonia she was using to wash the windows mingled with the chocolate Betty was spreading across the top of the éclairs. Katie’s job was to stay out of the way of the two busy women and Wendy was setting up the card tables and folding chairs in the living room.

When the vacuuming was done and the upright put in the front hall closet, Abby plopped on the couch. For her, it felt like Christmas or a birthday when the usual routines were broken up. Christmas tree lights, candles on a cake, or pretty, dainty paper napkins matching scoring tablets gave her every day world a gossamer glow. At nine-years-old, she could still fade into the furniture to instinctively savor an assuring moment. And she did not feel like she was eavesdropping when her mother and Clara began talking as they set the card tables and got the dining room table ready to serve the dessert buffet.

Will Bea Hodges be coming this evening? Clara wondered. I know her mother is failing fast.

Abby’s mother responded as she placed the flowered napkins at each of the twelve places. She called yesterday to confirm. I doubt she wants to be absent when we elect this year’s officers. She’s one of the original members, you know, and sees herself preserving the standing of the guild in Lakeville.

She’s done a good job there. You’re not likely to see an empty chair at the bridge tables with more than enough ladies lined up to take the place of anyone who should step down, Clara confirmed. As far as I know, only serious illness and death open that door.

I guess you could say I was fortunate to be invited so quickly after we moved to town.

With Dr. Carter your husband, you would’ve had to bleach your hair and been a real hussy to miss out, Clare said as she polished the silver platter that would hold the éclairs. Old Doc Water’s wife was a member for as long as I can remember even though every one knew she couldn’t play a decent game of bridge for the life of her. She wasn’t a good partner to the day she died and that isn’t me being unkind. It was just a known fact.

Well, I’m just glad all this fuss includes a good game of bridge. I’d just as soon it was all about the cards without all the guild business. I have enough to do without running around town raising money for the hospital, Betty declared as she began pulling the flowered cups and saucers out of the hutch where they spent most of their time. I’m not inspired by holding a rummage sale or selling raffle tickets for a quilt. Mostly, it makes me feel tired, but Jerry insists its all part of taking our place in the community and building his practice.

Clara nodded her agreement. Though she was paid to clean house, babysit, and occasionally help out for social events, she didn’t consider herself simply domestic service. Nor was she a friend with Betty Carter outside their prescribed relationship. But she liked Dr. Carter’s wife and felt the privilege of sharing general confidences as their work transcended the usual social distinctions. There are those who can make a difference in this town and it doesn’t hurt to rub elbows with them, especially with your being new and all.

Betty chuckled. I hardly feel like I’m new to Lakeville. We’ve lived here five years.

Clara answered her laughter with a knowing smile. I’ve been here almost twenty years, and I’m still considered an out-of-towner. I don’t expect that to change in the near future. Unless you’re included through the guild, Women’s League, or Eastern Star, you are always a new-comer unless you went through the school system.

In the lull of quiet, female conversation, Abby fell asleep wondering how she could belong to Lakeville when she was only nine-years-old, but Clara was considered a newcomer even though she had lived in town longer and was so much older. It was the first time she had something a grown-up couldn’t have. Abby sensed, though she didn’t recognize it, that her own story was taking place within the story of her community. It was a stew of guiding forces, encouraging, supporting, directing, isolating, but never indifferent.

Chapter 5

The brand new, shiny green jeep arrived on a Wednesday with Dr. Carter’s big, engaging smile and boyish enthusiasm. It was the first time the driveway made way for two cars and the neighborhood took as much notice as the Carter kids. This was a toy for the young dentist who had established himself with his gentle touch, painless shots, and easy manner. It marked his success and spoke of his passion for hunting, fishing, and exploring the back roads beyond the community.

Saturday, Abby piled into the removable back seat with Wendy and Katie while her mother climbed into the front seat concerned about the lack of doors and quite sure the fruit would be bruised where Jerry had placed the bag under Katie’s feet. The usual pall of a family outing joined them as Jerry turned the key, ignoring his wife’s observations about the dangers and discomforts of riding without the convertible top.

Sitting on the right side of the bench seat, Abby listened to every word passing between her parents, acutely aware of every nuance though she had no place to put the information, no names or understanding. Like her breath, it simply moved through her even while she delighted in watching the neighborhood pass by.

Everything felt more than real. She could almost hold out her hand and touch Mrs. Crabtree’s lilac bushes while the morning air tossed her hair like an egg beater. Her usual backseat view was about treetops, buildings, and the sky. Now she saw the feet of people walking the sidewalks as they passed through town. And when they reached the highway, the gravel shoulder was as close as looking down. The dark gray asphalt raced under the tires as her mother insisted Jerry slow down before someone fell out. Abby filled her senses as they drove by Goldfish Lake, the ice caves, and the gun club before turning off the highway onto a dirt road.

Here her dad slowed down and, sitting behind her mother’s stern posture, Abby wondered where they were going. She had never been here before. She smelled the sage brush and stared indifferently at the passing farm as foreboding took a seat beside her. Dust billowed behind them, filling her nostrils, wrapping around her hair. Katie wiggled and squirmed, exclaiming the need for a banana. Her mother yelled at Katie to sit down and then raised her voice again when her dad paid no attention to her request to stop.

Wendy slithered down in her seat and used her foot to grab the bag just outside her mother’s reach. Little by little, she urged the paper sack closer until she could reach down and grab it. While their mom silently looked off into the distance, Wendy pulled out three bananas.

Using her fingernail to slice each top of the banana peels so they could be pulled back without bruising the fruit, Abby felt the road taking them further and further away from home. Normally, she would have savored such a moment. Using her fingernail for a knife was something her mother had done on occasion and a task outside Wendy’s capability because she chewed her nails. It was a grownup, helpful opportunity. Today, Abby took care of the task, but there was no room for pride. The road was getting narrower, and she couldn’t see a farm house anywhere.

The small lake was nestled at the base of the hills. Unlike the sandy beaches and clear water she was used to, this lake had rushes and pussy willows strangling brown, murky water. Abby watched the silent water as the road began climbing away from the lake. The jeep bounced on the large rocks of the seldom used track and Betty’s voice rose in tandem with the increasing elevation.

Have you lost your mind, Jerry? This road is getting worse by the minute and there is no place to turn around. Do you even know where we’re going?

There was no gentle reassurance in his response. No chagrin. I’ve got 4-wheel drive. This jeep will take us anywhere.

Looking ahead to anywhere, Abby could see they had as much road ahead as they had left behind them on this hillside run, but she could also see it was starting to look more like a path than a road. There was no shoulder to watch any more. The rutted edge had given way to the steep incline leading down to the lake. As they passed by, the fragile brink was losing more dirt and rocks to the slope. She could hear the large stones crunch beneath the tires, some of them breaking loose to roll down the hill as the jeep continued to climb. When Abby looked over her right shoulder, she could only see air. She felt nothing.

Jerry! screeched her mother. You’ll never make it past that washout. The edge is soft. She leaned away from the open doorway, instinctively grabbing the side of the driver’s seat. You’ve got to stop or you’ll kill us all, she yelled as the jeep continued forward.

The jeep leaned to the right, giving Abby a clear view of the lake far below. The car lurched and sank down. It kept moving as Betty screamed, Jerry! The back wheel spun, a rock broke loose, and the tires found solid ground. Slowly, Abby’s view of the lake below receded and she was given distant trees for visual solace as Katie and Wendy moved back to their own places after sliding toward her when the jeep had ridden the mountain side and tested the edge of the crumbling road.

The dust had found every crevice and corner of both jeep and riders by the time Jerry brought his family out of the mountains on the other side of the range. He had used lumber roads most of the way, only heading across the open fields of the lower valley once. No one had said a word along the way and Abby’s mother was still not speaking when her dad pulled up to a gas station on the main highway heading home.

Familiarity felt like a friend and Abby, like her sisters, was inclined to smile at the man in overalls who handed them nickels to use in the pop machine back by the cars being repaired. Holding Katie up so she could see the maze of pop bottle caps lined up in the icy cold water, Abby chose root beer for herself. Katie and Wendy chose Orange Crush. She could hear her dad talking and laughing with the man at the pump while Katie put the coins in the slot and Wendy figured out how to remove the caps on the side of the cooler.

It wasn’t a long ride home, just long enough for Abby to savor every sip of her very first root beer soda pop. The soothing coolness did not erase the stark, steep view of looking out of the tilting jeep into the muddy lake below, but the bubbly joy brought her back to her body. The tickle down her throat made her forget the coat of dust she wore.

Chapter 6

Except for Mrs. Mason across the street, Abby didn’t know what the grownups in her neighborhood were saying about the new jeep, but the kids she played with considered it one of the highlights of their midsummer vacation.

Wendy had talked about driving across the fields where there was no road and a debate ensued about whether or not she was telling the truth. The younger kids believed her and thought it all very exciting. The three older kids thought she exaggerated. Maybe he went around a stump or cut a corner, but people just didn’t drive off the road for miles in their new cars. It didn’t make sense.

Abby didn’t like talking about the jeep. She had only nodded when Mrs. Mason said it was nice to see Mrs. Carter had her own car now that Dr. Carter drove his jeep to work. She definitely would not stay sitting on the grass under the shade of the locust tree while everyone discussed the jeep once again. She had her own new and exciting vehicle.

Just this week, she had been given a brand new blue bicycle. It was a girl’s bike, her very own, and her dad had adjusted the pedals to fit just her. Then he had helped her learn to ride. It had been one the most exciting evenings of her life as he held onto the bike and had run beside her while she learned how to pedal and steer at the same time. She wanted to ride just like Sam and Wendy, who climbed on their bikes and rode for hours up and down the roads of their four-block neighborhood.

First her dad had run along beside her on the street in front of their house. Then, when she wasn’t so wobbly and scared, he had gone further, across Sam’s street and into the next block. He had taught her how to put on the brakes and jump down from her seat when the bike stopped so she wouldn’t fall over. She got better with each try but knew she would fall if his hand wasn’t on the back of the seat.

With Mr. Mason watering his lawn and Diane and Kelly sitting on their front lawn watching, Abby had gone up and down the street three times with her dad at her side. She had imagined riding with Wendy and Sam and the other older kids. Her heart had beaten with anticipation, and she had asked him to run up the street one more time.

She had felt herself getting better on her new bike with the bell on the bar handle and blue and white streamers dangling from the rubber handles. Though she hadn’t been able to start without tipping over, once she had begun pedaling, the bike had no longer felt like it was going to fall over. Her dad had made sure of that.

Up the street she had ridden, across the Sam’s street and into the next block. Hang on, Daddy. Don’t let go! she had yelled as she began picking up speed. Don’t let go! she had begged as the bike moved smoothly ahead. Abby had wanted to ride forever.

And then turning to look over her left shoulder to ask her dad if they could go to the end of the block this time, she had realized he wasn’t there. When she had looked behind her and seen her dad standing back at the cross roads, the bike had wobbled and faltered.

Keep going! he had encouraged. You did it.

But the bike had tilted to the left and Abby had forgotten how to use the brakes. Instinct had gotten her left foot to the ground in time to catch herself. Her new bike had hit the asphalt as she jumped clear.

She had ridden all by herself for almost a whole block. Abby had looked from her bike to her dad and had seen his big smile. She had smiled back before picking up the bike. Turning it around, she had struggled with the choice of trying to ride to her dad or just walking back down the street. In the end, she had walked. She had already been as brave as she could be for one evening, but she had returned to her house anticipating the next day when she would get her bike out of the garage and practice. And she had hoped her mother might still have some old bridge cards so she could put them on the spokes like the other kids.

The next afternoon, while the other kids continued discussing the jeep with arguments and excitement, Abby found her bicycle on the lawn in the front yard and continued her quest. The older kids were her model. They could jump on their bikes in a flash and race up and down the streets, turning corners with ease. Amanda could put both of her feet out to the sides of her bike, not even using the pedals for balance. Abby was tireless and persistent, content to be on her own. And when her dad came around the corner in the late afternoon, she rode past him, daring to lift her left hand to wave.

Dr. Carter often got home by 4:30. Most often he would have a beer and read the newspaper, but sometimes he would put on his swimming suit and they would head for the beach even if their suits were still wet from swimming earlier in the day. Tonight, he was in a good mood as the neighborhood kids swarmed toward him and the jeep, asking if he really did drive off the road like Wendy said.

Abby’s dad didn’t answer, but he grinned and told everyone to jump in for a ride to the dump. He turned back to the jeep and started to work on the clips that held the back seat in place, fully expecting a load of kids to join him. Two asked him to wait as they dashed off to ask their mothers’ permission, but everyone else gathered round knowing it would be okay because it was only over to the dump on the far side of the neighborhood and it was, after all, Dr. Carter.

With the seat out, nothing stopped the flow. Tim took the front seat and Beth piled onto his lap. The two metal side benches were filled in a flash with those who could most easily scramble over the tailgate, using the bumper for a step. The floor was left for the youngest of the bunch, but there were no complaints. Only excitement scoured the air.

Abby’s initial hesitancy lasted only a moment in the maelstrom. She was scrunched between the back of the passenger seat and Carol as her dad backed out of the driveway with a flourish.

They had barely picked up speed when Annette came running across Sam’s front yard, yelling that she could go too. The jeep paused as she climbed over the tailgate and then it impatiently surged forward, throwing her into the laps of the kids sitting on the floor. Giggles and squeals erupted as Dr. Carter drove down the road where Abby had learned to ride her bike. When they turned the corner at the end of this street marking the edge of their neighborhood, Abby wondered if Suzy had to stay home and help with dinner or if they had left her behind in the rush.

Though the dump road was less than a mile long, it had five ninety-degree corners on the way. Abby’s dad exaggerated the slight incline and curves, lifting and shifting everyone into giddy togetherness. Children and preteens gave voice to the great fun when they reached the short straight stretch and Dr. Carter pulsed the gas pedal, rocking the riders into joy.

The left turn that led to the ravine’s edge where the town’s garbage was regularly pushed into gaudy, twisted shapes and color was familiar to the children of south Lakeville. They leaned into it as Dr. Carter took it without slowing down. What they didn’t expect was the sudden jolt to the right just after the turn. There was no road there, only a hill that rose up behind the piles of garbage.

The sudden, suspended