I’ve already put a big X over yesterday’s entry in my notebook and penned in my replacement good deed—donating money to a worthy charity. Doing something so impersonal had felt more like a cop-out instead of the spirit with which I’d begun my blessing journal. But I’d run out of time and options. Leaving the page of the notebook blank had felt all kinds of wrong.
I’ve also already written Levi a reply letter and slipped it under the door to his bedroom. Of course, this was after I’dargued with myself on whether or not the better option was to leave the letter someplace easy to find, like he’d done, or simply walk to the shop and give it to him in person. But I figured if I gave it to him in person then he’d have to make the uncomfortable decision of whether to pocket it to read later in private or open it right then and read it in front of me. The letter’s current location is purely because of my consideration for Levi, I assure you, not because I haven’t figured out how to proceed with him face-to-face yet.
I grab my bag, sling the strap over my shoulder, and then step out the front door. The morning air has a little bit of a nip that I’m not complaining about at all, especially since in about an hour I know I’m going to be fanning myself against the heat. The calendar marks September, and we’re nearing the official start of fall, but it’ll take Tennessee a while to get with the program and really begin cooling off. Unless an unexpected cold snap hits, I’m not expecting the leaves to sport their array of colors until around Halloween. Until then, everyone’s sweaters are safely folded up in their chest of drawers.
The path down the mountain is easy to spot even though it’s pretty narrow. I pick my foot placements carefully so I don’t trip on a root and injure myself. I’ve played the part of damsel in distress enough in the last twenty-four hours, thank you very much.
“Jolene!” a young girl’s voice rings out.
I lift my head and peer around the slender trunks of trees, but I don’t see anyone.
“Jolene!”
The echo of the name rings between my ears in Dolly Parton’s falsetto voice. I mean, you hear the nameJoleneand it’s impossible not to immediately start singing the country star’s iconic hit. Tell me I’m wrong.
“Jo—Oh, hello.”
A girl about nine years old materializes out of seeminglynowhere. She stares up at me with crystal blue eyes under a hank of blond hair that is as much in need of a brush as my own. Her oversized tie-dyed shirt almost entirely covers a pair of cut-off shorts with frayed edges tickling her knees. In her hand is a leash connected to...
A pig in a pink tutu?
“My name’s Anna Leigh, what’s yours?” The pig at her heel snorts. “Oh, and this is Fancy.”
First Jolene and now Fancy. Dolly and then Reba. Please don’t tell me this precious little child has a pet named after a song about a teenager forced into prostitution by her ailing mother.
I push past the notion and let my lips curl into a genuine smile. “Hello, Anna Leigh. Hello, Fancy. I’m Hayley.”
“Have you seen Jolene anywhere?” Anna Leigh looks around me like she’s expecting the mysterious Jolene to be hiding behind my back.
“No, I haven’t, sorry. Is Jolene your sister? Where’s your mama? Does she know you’re out here?” Now it’s my turn to look around the half-pint as I try to spot an adult who belongs with this child. Why isn’t she in school? Is today a holiday I don’t know about? A teacher in-service day or parent-teacher conferences perhaps?
Anna Leigh laughs. “Jolene’s not my sister. He’s Fancy’s husband. And Mama told me to get out of her hair for a bit ’cuz I was driving her up the wall with all my jibber-jabber. I brought Jolene and Fancy out to the woods ’cuz I read that pigs are good at sniffing out something called a truffle—it looks like deer turds, if you ask me—but I guess people like to eat them and will pay lots of money, so me and Jolene and Fancy are gonna be rich.” Her face scrunches. “Except we haven’t found no truffles, and Jolene’s gone and run off.” She turns her face and cups a hand around her mouth like a megaphone. “Jolene, come back!”
Fancy snorts, then plops to the ground to lay on her side.
Anna Leigh tugs on the leash. “Get up, Fancy.” She looks back at me again. “She’s depressed ’cuz she thinks her husband’sleft her for good like Tilly’s did.” She leans closer and whispers. “That’s what I heard Mr. MacDonald telling Mama last time we were in the general store. But between you and me, I think Tilly’s better off without him. At least that’s what Mama said.”
I nod because I’m not sure exactly how to respond. “Would you like some help in finding Jolene?”
“Yes, please.” She rocks forward on her toes and marches around me to continue her search.
I have no idea how long this little girl has been away from home, and her mother might be starting to get worried about her. “Hey, Anna Leigh, hold up a second.”
She pivots to look at me. “Yeah?”
“Do you think Jolene would go back home? Maybe he got hungry and he’s just waiting to be let back into his pigpen for some delicious slop.”
Her face brightens. “You’re real smart, Miss Hayley. Are you a teacher or somethin’?”
“I’m a librarian.”
“Really?” Her eyes round. “I’ve never been to a real library before. My classroom has some books we can read, but Mrs. Huggins doesn’t let us take them home. That’s where I read about pigs sniffin’ out truffles.”
I’m guessing she missed the part about black truffles growing wild in Europe and not in the hills of eastern Tennessee. It’s easier to focus on this piece of information than the fact she’s never stepped foot inside a library before. As soon as we get back to her house, I’m going to invite her and her mom over to Levi’s Service Station to look around the bookmobile and she can check out all the books she wants.
Fancy grunts with each little trot step she takes beside Anna Leigh, pulling my attention down to the pig.
“Fancy’s an interesting name for a pig. Jolene too, especially since he’s a boy pig.”
