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Whither Shall I Go?

By Gina Holder

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Chapter One


October 28, 1911
Cades Cove, Tennessee

A simple melody wafted across a grassy meadow, through a wheat field begging for harvest, and over a stream trickling between smooth stones. It caught in a swirling autumn wind, where rich colored leaves danced in a cloudy sky.
Its source: a fiery sugar maple tree where a petite pair of calloused bare feet and a bit of gingham poked between the branches.
Where he leads me I will follow
Where he leads me I will follow
Where he leads me I will follow
I’ll go with him, with him all the way.
An invigorating breeze whispered secrets to the trees and sent shivers up the girl’s back. A flurry of crispy leaves floated to the ground. Rolling thunder echoed from somewhere in the cove. She leaned her head against the rough bark and gazed into the crisscrossed branches above, then closed her eyes and floated down the roaring Amazon river with tree-lined shores on either hand. Colorful birds soared overhead.
Another gust lifted her long curly hair. She opened and blinked her eyes. The trickle of Feezell Branch replaced the roar of the powerful river. Drab brown chickens clucked and pecked at the ground. A V of geese honked as they passed and a pair of squirrels chased each other around a nearby oak, fighting over dropped acorns. Ellie hugged the 1898 Rand McNally’s Universal Atlas of the World to her chest.
“Eleanor Grace Williams. It’ll be dark soon. You’ll catch your death out here. What are you doing?”
Ellie’s head jerked up. “Readin’, Mama.” Books were few and hard to come by, so whenever she could get her hands on one, she poured over the precious pages.
“You are supposed to be a young lady!”
“Aw, Mama.” Ellie much preferred exploring with her brothers over mending and cooking in the dark cabin. Candles and the few windows never let in enough light, not compared to the sunshine out of doors. They climbed trees, waded in the creek, fished, and roamed the woods. Her brothers taught her how to survive and how to find her way if lost. She was a fast runner and could shoot a gun too, though her mother didn’t know it. Mama didn’t like when she did “boy things.” She said girls had to be prim and proper, although it didn’t make a lick of sense.
Her mother frowned. Ellie scurried from the branches.
“What do you have there?”
Ellie handed the thick book to her mother. “Davis said I could borrow it.”
Mama brushed Ellie’s hair behind her ear and her calloused hand rested a moment on the freckled face. Ellie longed to be the young lady her mother wanted her to be, though frankly she found it difficult to do as the only girl among so many brothers. “Alright, here’s your book. Let’s get ready for supper. Papa and the boys should be home before long.”
Ellie and her mother strolled hand in hand towards a hand-hewn mud-packed log cabin where a swirling puff of wood smoke rose from the aged stone chimney. They passed the garden bursting with field corn, pumpkins, and squash; the barn and noisy animals; and the well and stack of firewood.
“Have you ever seen the world, Mama?”
“Well, not the entire world. But I’ve been to a few places.”
“What’s the most wonderful place you’ve ever seen?”
Mama stopped and gazed at the mountain peaks. Storm clouds gathered on the horizon. A thin stream of remaining sunlight bounced off the gold locket dangling around her neck. A frigid wind swept across the barnyard sending a shower of leaves cascading down on the pair. Mama crossed her arms over her thin linen dress and rubbed briskly. Her brown eyes misted. “Here.”
Ellie wrinkled her nose. “Here? Really?”
“Yes, here.”
“Why?”
“Your father.” Mama paused. “I left everything to be with him and he has given me a beautiful life.” Mama poked Ellie on her freckled nose. “You’ll understand someday.”
Mother and daughter stepped onto the porch and into the dark cabin. Ellie perched at the creaky table and began chopping old wrinkled potatoes, turnips, and parsnips for their supper. The table wobbled each time she sliced with the thick-handled knife. Her mother stood near the stone fireplace and stirred the big black kettle. Although they owned a cast-iron stove, Mama said that the very best venison stew cooked the old-fashioned way. The robust, gamey aroma made Ellie’s mouth water. The front door banged against the wall and four of Ellie’s five brothers clamored through the doorway, with her Papa close behind.
“I won,” Sixteen-year-old Leroy fell into a chair at the table. Fifteen-year-old Davis sat on the edge of the hearth and promptly opened a book; the words Medical Journal printed in large letters on the front cover. Fourteen-year-old Joel stuck his hand in his pocket. “Look at this, Ellie.”
He’d dug a spiky fence lizard from its home in the woodpile. Ellie screamed and jumped out of her chair. “Joel, git that out of my face.”
“It’s just a harmless old lizard. He won’t hurt you none.” Joel took a step closer with the scaly creature.
Mama called out without turning around. “Joel Henry, leave your sister alone and take that nasty thing outside.” Joel shrugged, opened the door, and put the lizard on the ground. The grateful reptile scurried away. Ellie blew out a big breath and returned to her chair. Papa crossed the rough wood floor with wide footsteps and caught Mama around her thin waist. Their laughter filled the small cabin as he swung her around in a circle. He set her down and gave her a kiss. The younger boys groaned and covered their eyes. Papa’s eyes twinkled. “Not in front of the children.” Mama’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled.
Papa laughed. She loved the sound of her papa’s rich laugh; it echoed from the rafters. “Why not? I’m sure they know you’re my wife.” He winked at the children.
Ellie giggled. “Me too, Papa, please.” She jumped into his arms. Papa swung her around just as he had done with her mother and then planted a sloppy kiss on her forehead.
Mama turned back to the stew pot. “It’s still going to be a while before dinner. I wasn’t expecting you all in so soon.”
“It’s fine. There’s a bad storm brewing. The mill closed early tonight.” Papa picked up a piece of crunchy raw potato and popped it in his mouth. “We can wait awhile for supper.” He winked at Ellie. “You know, after all these years, I still can’t get yer mama to talk right.”
“Forgive me if my northern upbringing prevents me from using the word ‘supper’.” Mama waggled her finger.
Papa ducked behind Ellie’s chair. “Quick, hide me before she starts another War Between the States right here in our house.”
Mama just chuckled and shook her head.
“Where’s Daniel?” Ellie asked.
Seventeen-year-old Andrew, the eldest brother and Ellie’s favorite, answered. “He’s still outside somewhere, Bitty. Last I seen, he was sitting on the woodpile, whittling again.”
“Tell him to come in. I don’t want him out there when the storm hits.”
“Yes, Mama. I’ll try.” Andrew put on his coat and went outside, closing the door tight behind him.
“I made up a new joke today. Wanna hear it?” Joel asked. Without waiting for a response, he continued, “What do you call it when it rains chickens? Fowl weather.” He laughed at his own joke, but the rest of the family looked confused. “Oh, come on, that was funny.”
Papa sank into his rocking chair next to the warm fire. He leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a deep satisfied sigh. Ellie finished chopping the root vegetables, put them into a wooden bowl and carried it to her mother, who dumped them into the steaming pot. Ellie climbed into her father’s lap, startling him. He gasped and pulled her onto his legs. Ellie stroked his bristly ginger beard. The wind howled around the edge of the cabin and a clap of thunder shook the timbers. She grasped her father’s neck and buried her face in his shoulder. Papa smelled of pine and sweat. “It’s alright Ellie, that storm won’t hurt you none.”
Ellie lifted her head. “I know Papa. I was just looking fur an excuse to hug you.” Her father tickled her sides. Ellie squirmed. “Will you read to us, Papa? While the supper’s still cooking?”
“Sure, little one. Get our book?” Ellie jumped down, stretched on her tiptoes to the top of the hearth, then grabbed the hardcover book lying on the mantle and handed it to her father as she climbed back in his lap. Joel and Leroy crowded around their father’s feet, each pushing on the other to get the best spot. Mama took a seat at the table, knitting in hand. The soft clicking of her knitting needles began as Papa opened the book and found the dog-eared corner. Ellie leaned her head on his firm chest as he read the next chapter of the riveting tale of Judah Ben-Hur.
Andrew and twelve-year-old Daniel crashed through the door soaking wet. “That came up fast,” Andrew said. Daniel hung his coat on the wooden pegs on the wall and sat by the fire to warm his freezing hands without a word. Andrew took a seat on the floor next to his brothers.
Papa finished the chapter, closed the book, then set Ellie on her feet. She dropped into Andrew’s lap. “Oh, Bitty! You aren’t so itty bitty anymore. I’m going to have to think up a new nickname if you keep growing.”
“Nah, I’m always going to be itty bittier than y’all.” Ellie grinned and Andrew chuckled.
Joel folded his arms across his chest. “That was funny? But not my chicken joke?”
“Guess you got to think of something else, old boy.” Leroy said. “And I bet I can think up a better joke than you.”
“Ha,” Joel mocked, “Hardly. You’re about as funny as Davis’ medical books.”
Startled by his name, Davis looked up from reading, “Huh?” The family laughed at the befuddled look on Davis’ face. Even Daniel managed to crack a smile.
Mama checked the stew. “Looks like we’re about ready. Would someone set the table?”
“I’d get it Mama, but I’m being squished by an oversized strawberry.” Andrew tugged on Ellie’s hair.
“I’ll do it.” Daniel whispered. He arranged the wooden bowls, spoons, and mugs on the table. Not to be outdone, Leroy shouted, “I’ve got the brown bread and butter.”
As the family came to sit around the table for supper, Joel’s face lit up. “I’ve got one.”
“One what?” Ellie asked.
“A joke, of course.”
“Alright, let’s have it.” Papa said. He tucked his napkin into the front of his shirt.
“How do you make a venison stew?”
“How?”
“You keep the doe waiting.”
Everyone groaned again, except for Ellie. “You’re funny, Joel.”
“See.” Joel pointed, “Ellie thinks I’m funny.”
“Sure, trust the opinion of a ten-year-old.” Davis said.
“Hey, I’m eleven!”
“Quiet now. Let’s thank the Lord for this fine supper.” Everyone bowed their heads and her father lifted his voice in prayer. “Father God, thank you fer all your blessin’s. You’ve been so good to us even when we don’t deserve it. Thank you fer givin’ us our daily bread. Amen.”
Mama scooped the soup into bowls and passed them around the table. Papa took a chunk of brown bread and dipped it in the piping hot stew. “Andrew, why don’t you invite Melanie McCauley to come over tomorrow after church?”
Andrew’s face blushed. “Sure… Papa… I…”
Joel puckered his lips, “Yeah Andrew, why don’t you ask Mellie to join us? Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He kissed at the air. Leroy laughed so hard he nearly dropped the bowl of hot stew in his hands.
“I like Melanie,” Ellie said, and the other boys laughed.
“Yeah, so does Andrew.” Davis said.
“Aw, come on guys. Mellie and I are just friends.” Andrew cleared his throat.
“Sure, you are.” Joel said.
“Alright boys, that’s enough. Settle down.” But another round of giggles slipped out. Andrew dipped his head, his cheeks flushed, and his ears turned crimson.
Ellie took in the scene. The log cabin swelled with love and laughter. Traveling the world would have to wait, for at that very moment there was nowhere on earth she would rather be.


Later that night, silvery moonlight slanted through the small plate-glass window above her bed and across her face. Ellie opened her eyes and knelt on her straw-tick mattress to look outside. Rain dripped down the window sill. She snuggled back under the covers. Her parents whispered in the dark, their soft voices drifting up to the loft. The gentle hum brought comfort, safety, and warmth. Ellie giggled as her brothers’ snores carried over the privacy sheet. Her parents ceased their conversation. Papa’s deep bass joined the nightly chorus. Ellie hugged her faceless rag doll and wiggled her finger through a hole in her nightgown. Clouds covered the full moon. Heavy eyelids drooped. She pulled her grandmother’s faded quilt up to her chin. Her mother’s and aunt’s dresses as children created the ‘two sisters’ pattern. The initials A.A.E. marked the corner, but Ellie never thought to ask what they meant. Her eyes closed and she fell back asleep.
When the family rose at dawn, an enchanted frost blanketed the mountain. The sunlight sparkled, creating a sea of diamonds. Nippy wind howled around the corner of the cabin searching for a way between the impenetrable timbers. The stone hearth held back the chill. Splintered logs crackled and popped. Little red sparks floated in the air, burned out, and settled again. Ellie pressed her nose against the frozen windowpane and her breath left a steamy mark.
“Ellie. Turn around and eat your breakfast.” Mama said.
Yuck. Couldn’t we have flapjacks or something? Ellie spun around in her chair just in time to see Leroy and Joel slurp down their porridge. “Mama!”
“Boys. Be civilized.”
Ellie wrinkled her nose at the white slop. She scooped some porridge onto her spoon, then watched it splat in big globs back into the bowl. “Do I have to eat it, Mama?”
“Yes. It will stick to your ribs and keep you warm.”
Ellie made a face behind her mother’s back and then put a tiny bit into her mouth. She shuttered and gagged. Porridge is almost as disgusting as boys. “Where’s Papa?”
Andrew took the last swig of milk from his cup. “Outside. Preacher stopped by to talk to him.”
Her mother yanked a book out of Davis’ hands. “Davis, eat. You can stop reading long enough to nourish your body.”
“But Mama, I just wanted to finish that chapter.”
Joel stuck his nose in the air. “Mother, dear,” he said. “Don’t you know that books are the nourishment of the mind?”
Mama swatted Joel on the head with Davis’ book. “But not at breakfast.”
“Ha. I’m finished first.” Leroy wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Good,” Mama said. “You can take this out to your papa. He hasn’t eaten yet.” She handed Leroy a bowl of steaming porridge.
He grabbed his coat from the peg next to the door and swung it over his shoulders. “I’ll be back in two flips of a flapjack, Mama.”
Ellie propped her chin in her hand. You had to say that, didn’t you?
“Just take the porridge.” Mama closed the door behind Leroy and spotted Ellie watching from the table. “Eleanor. Would you finish?”
Ellie gulped down another bite. Cold mush is even worse! She stared into the bowl and swirled the spoon around. A few minutes later, Papa and Leroy stomped inside, saving her from having to finish.
“Good mornin’, Ellie.” Papa crossed to the table in two steps and planted a kiss on top of her head.
“Mornin’, Papa.”
Papa sat at the table with his bowl of porridge. “What’d preacher want?” Andrew asked.
“He asked you and me to go with him to visit the Ferguson’s after services this morning.”
Mama gasped and dropped the wooden bowl she was drying. “The Ferguson’s. Is that such a good idea?”
Papa rubbed his ginger beard. “They need Jesus too.”
“Is they the ones always feuding and makin’ moonshine?” Andrew asked.
Papa nodded. “That’s them.”
Mama picked up the bowl off the floor and dropped it back into the tub of warm dish water. She set her towel on the stove and took off her apron. She smoothed her hair back and sighed. “Children, get ready for services.”
Papa walked up behind Mama and kissed the nape of her neck. “It’ll be alright.”
Mama turned. She gazed into Papa’s eyes. “I’ll pray with every breath in my body.”

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