American Girl

West Virginia

Mist rose in the West Virginia mountains, veiling them in soft, smoky gray. Tegan Craddock breathed deeply. The Craddock cabin nestled in the trees behind her. A brook babbled at her feet. She waded along the edge, splashing a little and scattering the small fish. The sound of a gunshot shattered the air, and she cringed. Her father and brother, Idris, shouldered their guns early and walked into the forest. Tegan thought of the deer or rabbit they shot. She loved the forest animals and hated hunting them.

She stood still, waiting for the gun to crack again, but all remained silent. A bird chirped in the trees, and Tegan relaxed. She waded in the brook and dreamed. Her father thought she dreamed too much. Her eyes would cast a faraway look and travel a million miles away. One moment, she was a fairy princess; the next, she transformed into a milkmaid. In every fantasy, she became a damsel in distress. A white knight always came to her rescue.

The Craddock's came from Wales three years earlier. Tegan's mother died unexpectedly, and her father decided a change of scene was necessary. He packed up his small family and moved to West Virginia. Once they arrived, her father and brother built the log cabin nestled in the woods. Tegan helped Granny with the inside work and the gardening. One morning, she awoke to find Granny sitting still in her fireside rocking chair. When she prodded the old woman, she canted sideways. Granny was dead.

Idris dug a grave behind the cabin, and they laid the old woman to rest. Tegan gathered wildflowers and tended the grave. She had no one to help her with the chores. Her father and brother kept themselves busy in the woods, hunting and fishing.

Tegan left the brook and wandered into the forest. Her lilting voice echoed between the tall trees as she sang Greensleeves. If anyone noticed her during her lonely sojourns, they would have recognized her as a forest nymph. Her ethereal body flitted between the filtered sunbeams, and her long golden hair created a halo above her brows. At times, Tegan looked unreal.

"It's beautiful here, Granny," Tegan whispered in her soft Welsh accent. "I wish you were still here with us."

"I am here with you," Granny's voice floated on the breeze.

Tegan stopped and turned a slow circle. She knew she heard a voice but saw no one. Her eyes penetrated the forest depths searchingly.

"Granny?" she asked.

"Over here, child," Granny's worn voice stated.

Tegan followed the voice. A shadowy form appeared between the trees. She rushed toward it but found no one. She blamed her over-active imagination. Flitting through the trees, she gathered wildflowers and took them to the gravesite. Kneeling, Tegan cleaned away the bracken and placed her bouquet beneath the crude wooden cross. She wished Granny was real and not lying beneath the cold ground for eternity.

"I love you, Granny," Tegan whispered, rising. She stood at the grave with her head bowed.

"I love you too, child," she thought she heard. A slight breeze rustled the leaves above her head.

Tegan returned to the cabin and prepared the bread for baking. The soft dough clung to her fingers while she formed the loaf. Finally, she slid it into the fireplace oven, where it would slowly bake. Her father and Idris would come home for lunch and then return to the woods. The afternoon would stretch out long and lonely.

Her father kept a few books in the cabin. Although Tegan had read them several times, she curled into the rocker with Dicken's Oliver Twist and began it again. When the bread was finished baking, she placed it on a window sill to cool it and chopped vegetables for a stew. Idris came in with a skinned rabbit, and she added it to the pot.