Chapter 4

I followed my uncle into the woodshed I'd lived in for eight years, and it felt like a lifetime ago and another world all at once.

There was almost nothing of mine in there. Just a cloth bundle patched in several places, and the silver locket my mother had left me.

The stepmother trailed behind us, sniveling, muttering the whole way: "Cordelia, you've already had your own father hauled off. You can't go taking things too... that half-sack of cornmeal is my son's food ration!"

I stopped and looked at her, a cold smile on my lips. "That half-sack of cornmeal, I dug wild greens up the mountain from dawn to dark to trade for it. Since when did it become your son's ration?"

My uncle glanced at the half-sack of cornmeal, then at the stepmother wailing until snot bubbled at her nose, and let out a soft sigh. He picked up the bundle for me. "Come on, sweetheart. It's only half a sack of cornmeal, not worth arguing with a shrew over. Let's go... once we're back in Los Angeles, your uncle will buy you white bread."

That one line left her red in the face with nothing to say. All she could do was squat down, slap her thighs, and howl at nothing.

I walked out of the woodshed behind my uncle. Passing the main room, I saw half a fluffy white bread roll sitting on the low table by the bed. That was the breakfast the stepmother had saved for her son.

I didn't slow my step. Those good days built on cheating and lying, I didn't want the smallest piece of them.

Because I knew I deserved better.

Sitting back in the jeep, I still felt like I was dreaming.

I clutched the forty dollars in my pocket, crumpled and soft, and held it out to my uncle. "Uncle, this is money I saved for three years. I wanted to buy you a new set of clothes for when you got out."

He looked at the folded bills, and his eyes went red all at once.

He gripped my hand, his knuckles trembling. "My good girl, don't you worry... your uncle will look after you for the rest of his life."

Then he tucked the money right back into my pocket and swiped a hand across his eyes. "Keep it. Your uncle has money now, and a salary too. From now on our girl is going to wear new clothes and eat white bread rolls, and never have a hard day again!"

7

The car didn't head straight for the county administration office. First it swung by the village entrance.

When Merlin Lambert saw me come back in a jeep, it gave him a real fright, and he scrambled up off his ox cart.

My uncle got down and pressed twenty dollars into his hand, holding it tight. "Merlin, thank you for bringing my niece over today. Take this, buy yourself a couple sacks of grain."

Merlin wouldn't dream of taking it. He kept waving his hands, refusing.

Until my uncle's face went stern. "If you won't take it, then you think Stanley Henson isn't worth your respect."

Only then did Merlin reluctantly accept, wiping his eyes. "I always knew you were wronged. Stanley, you're a good man. Heaven has eyes after all!"

My uncle smiled and said nothing, then told the driver to turn around and head for the county office.

After the statement was taken, the district head kept apologizing to my uncle.

Kept saying my uncle had been done wrong, locked up half a year over a false charge.

He even had us stay and eat in the office canteen.

It was the first time in my whole life I'd tasted fluffy white bread rolls, and scrambled eggs too.

I held the bread roll in both hands, and my fingers shook a little.

My uncle saw how out of place I felt. He moved all the egg from his own plate onto mine. "Eat, sweetheart, eat plenty. Don't worry... from now on your uncle promises you'll have this every single day."

Seeing this, the district head chuckled along. "That's right... Cordelia, Professor Henson is an important man... forget white bread rolls, he can have meat on your table every day without any trouble."

At his words I froze on the spot.

Goodness...

A professor?

How high a post was that?

Was my uncle really such a big deal?

I only remembered him teaching me my letters when I was small, telling me my grandfather had been a professor at the city university. I'd never imagined my uncle could go back and be a professor now too.

After we ate, we spent the night at the county guesthouse.

It was the first time I'd slept in a bed with a real blanket, not a hard clay platform, and the blanket even carried the scent of soap.

I lay down and turned over and over, unable to sleep.

Every wrong I'd swallowed all these years, every hardship, spun through my head like a paper lantern turning round and round.

After my mother was gone, I'd been like a weed no one tended, trodden down again and again in that so-called home, pressed down and pressed down.

I never dared dream of a day I'd come out on top. I only ever thought, if I could just hold out until my uncle got free, that would be enough.

I never imagined I'd finally come through it in a way like this.

The more I thought about it, the more my tears fell without my meaning them to.

Not from grief. It was the stone that had sat on my heart all these years finally coming to rest.

Early the next morning we took the jeep to the train station.

The county office had written out papers for us, and packed us food for the road.

Besides the white bread rolls, they'd tucked in two boiled eggs.

I clutched the silver locket my mother had left, my other hand touching the crisp poplin shirt my uncle had just bought me.

My heart was fluttery and sweet all at once.

But then, just as we reached the ticket gate at the station.

I heard someone yell my name at the top of their lungs. "Cordelia Henson! You stop right there!"