Book Excerpt: ‘Where the Stars Grant Wishes’

Estimated reading time: 16 minutes

Please welcome guest author Janet Smart. We’re pleased to present the first chapter of her new novel Where the Stars Grant Wishes. “The story was inspired by the novel Christy, and my grandparents,” she says. “It takes place in Blackberry Holler, WV during the early 1900s. Like Lucy and Jonathan, my grandparents started their married life in a new century. Using a few known facts about my grandparents as a starter, I stirred in a large amount of imagination, and this fictional story was born.”  Her previous works include the historical-fiction middle grade book Duck and Cover, and three children’s books: Fun Through the Seasons (volume one and two) and Hum, Hum, Hummingbirds. 

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MY LITTLE BROTHER, Robert, handed me a rabbit’s foot. “Take this,” he whispered. “It’ll protect you from witches.” I hesitated, then took it from his hand. He turned and ran out of the house.  

Should I have this on my wedding day? What would Jonathan say if he saw it? I didn’t want him to think I believed the rumors about his ma, so I hid it inside the pocket of my cloak. 

I never realized it, but this day was the beginning of a long, fascinating journey. And by the end of this trek, I would no longer be a naïve young girl, but an experienced woman carved from steps and stumbles taken along the way.

I couldn’t have asked for a better day to get married. The sky was a crisp blue, the color of robin eggs. I gazed out the front window hoping to see Jonathan. Instead of seeing my beau, in the middle of that winding dirt road stood a cat—black as a seam of coal in the dark mines. The sleek, silky feline stared right at me with his glimmering gold eyes.  Oh glory, I hoped this wasn’t a sign. I covered my mouth and gasped. “That’s Esther’s cat.”

Cold shivers ran down my spine as if I stood outside in the crisp air of autumn, but the fire in the fireplace had our little house warm as the baby calico kittens cuddled up with their mama in the barn. My uneasiness came when I noticed the cat’s unblinking stare. It studied me through the window.

Esther was soon to be my mother-in-law. Some people said she was a witch. Her eyes were black as the licorice in Mr. Slaton’s candy counter and Sooty, a shiny black cat, was her constant companion. They said she did strange things, but I never talked to Jonathan about it, nor he to me. I don’t think I wanted to know if what they said about her was true or not. I didn’t want to take the chance of anything changing my mind about marrying the only boy I’d ever loved. And I didn’t want him to think I believed the rumors about his ma, though most of the other young people in the holler did. I loved him so much that I was willing to take a chance—a chance that I might be marrying a man whose ma could cast a spell on me if she ever took a notion to.

Something touched me on the shoulder. I jerked and turned around. Ma’s smiling face stared back at me. “I’m sorry. I was off in another world daydreaming. You startled me.”

“What you nervous about, daughter?”

“Look.” I pointed out the window. “Where’d it go? Ma, I saw Esther’s cat. But it’s gone now. Where’d it go?”

“Don’t worry, child. Something spooked him is all, and he ran off into the woods. Go fetch me some fresh water from the well. It’ll get your mind off the waitin’.” 

“Yes, Ma.” I drew a deep breath to clear my mind and hurried outside.

The golden yellow and russet leaves whirled in the wind, swirling about my face. As the leaves rustled beneath my feet, the small wisps of clouds floated above me in the clear, crisp autumn sky. They looked like floating feathers left behind by the geese flying south. At the well I pulled up a bucket of cool water and emptied it into my pail. I hurried back and placed it on the small table near the kitchen door and put the long-handled dipper inside it. 

I wiped my hands on the dishtowel and hurried toward the front room. Ma stood there staring into space. She had taken off her apron. Her green dress, usually saved for church, made her hazel eyes look greener than ever and they glistened with pure joy. Coarse gray strands streaked through her shiny black hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She never smiled much, but this afternoon the corners of her mouth curved upward and her dimples, which few people knew she had, sunk deep into her cheeks, making her look younger than her fifty years. My feet slowed at the sight of her smile, and I soaked in this seldom-seen image of my ma. 

 “Lucy, let me fix your hair. The wind’s made a mess of it. Strands have come loose and fallen about your face. You want to look nice for Jonathan, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, Ma. It’s my wedding day. I want to look beautiful for him. Could you please fix it? I just can’t get my fingers to work right today. I fear I might drop the mirror and comb.” 

My light brown hair, usually flowing down my back and tied with a simple white ribbon, was fixed in a twist. Hopefully, this style made me appear older than my seventeen years. I wanted to look perfect on this special day.

Ma vanished into her bedroom and returned just as quick with a comb. “When you were young, I braided your hair every morning. This style makes you look so grown up. You’re not my little girl anymore.”

“That was a long time ago. I haven’t worn braids since—since Jonathan and I started courtin’.” 

She gazed over my shoulders and out the window at the October foliage. She swallowed hard and fought back the tears that glistened in the corner of her eyes. “It seems like yesterday to me. You’ve always been so pretty.” She wiped away a stray tear that managed to slip out, and turned her head. “My baby girl’s getting married.” She sighed. “I reckon I’ll just have to get used to it.”

No doubt fears filled her mind over me leaving home. “Ma, you’re not losing a daughter. You’re gaining a son,” I reassured her. But sadness still filled her eyes.  “I’ll only be down the road a bit. It’s not like I’m leaving the county. And you and Pa can come see me anytime you take a notion.” 

“I know. Never mind me. I’ll be all right. It’s gonna take some gettin’ used to, that’s all.” She frowned, and fine wrinkles deepened on her forehead. The dimples, that had occupied her cheeks just before, had disappeared. After placing the comb in her apron pocket, she went about checking the rooms one more time to make sure they were clean and fitting for a visit from the preacher.

We lived by a winding dirt road. It followed Blackberry Creek, which crept its way along the entire length of the holler, where small tree saplings grew side-by-side near majestic trees that had withstood the test of time and rushing floodwaters of the past.  

Trappers and frontiersmen were the first people to set foot in the area that once was the site of Indian hunting parties, and the surroundings hadn’t changed much. The forest, still thick with timber, covered the hills that formed the holler. And recently men had dug back into those hills in search of the black coal that hid beneath the earth. It gave men much needed, but dangerous jobs.

Families had settled here many years ago in the shadow of these hills. Hills that reached down and hugged us like an old man hugging his grandchildren. I never wanted to leave. I wanted these hills to hug my children and grandchildren too.

Our small house glistened like a new Indian-head penny. That morning I had rolled up my little brother’s straw-tick bed in the far corner of the room and swept the floors. Ma wanted the house to look its best for the wedding. A small fire glowed in the fireplace, which opened into both the front room and their bedroom on the other side. Supper simmered in the pot on the iron cookstove in the kitchen where the aroma of apple pie and cornbread flowed from the oven. Ma’s best dishes sat on the table for this special occasion, and she had brought out an extra plate for the preacher.  

Since I was the only daughter in a family of five sons, Ma depended on me to help with the chores, but now the time had come for me to set up a household of my own. Jonathan had a house ready for us to move into only a small piece down the road from his parents’ log cabin.  I would return home to visit and help whenever possible but doubted I would have much time to spare. With no daughters to help with the work yet, I would be the one tending to all my own household chores.

I stood at the front window and watched for Jonathan. I spread the white lace curtains apart with my hands; curtains were the one fancy thing in our otherwise plain house. Ma often stood and admired them while she ran her fingers over the delicate material. She rarely spent hard-earned money on frivolous items. However, the minute she saw the lace in the store, she scrimped and saved her egg money and bought yards of material to make the curtains.  She said they added brightness to the inside of the house. She kept them up ‘specially for the wedding. Heavy drapes would soon replace them to keep out the chilly winter winds.

Ma and Pa liked Jonathan.  He was a quiet man, four years older than I was. They said he was a fine man, not wild like some of the other boys in the holler, and fine men were hard to come by nowadays.  During hard times, you had to work from sunrise ‘til sundown to put food on the table for your family. My Jonathan wasn’t lazy. Ever since he’d asked for my hand in marriage, he had worked hard and built us a home to live in and paid for it by doing carpentry for people. It was a small house, but it was ours and it was built with loving care. Ma said his mild manner was exactly what my feisty temperament needed. I didn’t know what she meant by that. I wasn’t feisty. I just spoke my mind. She told me women weren’t supposed to speak their mind; they were to be meek and let the man do all the talking. I could never do that.

At fifteen, I became spellbound with Jonathan. I’d catch myself staring at him in church. When he returned my gaze, I’d blush and drop my head. Sometimes I’d bring sweet cakes to him and his uncle when they worked nearby. He’d smile at me and give me a nickel. But he never paid me no mind until about a year ago when he noticed the skinny girl in pigtails had grown up. 

I still remember the time like it was yesterday. I was sitting in the shade down by Blackberry Creek pulling petals off a daisy. My shadow on the opposite bank mocked my every move. He’d snuck up behind me and said, “Well, does he love you or not?” 

Startled, I quickly pushed the petals aside before finding the answer to my question. “I’ll never tell,” I told him. I blushed and, like a child, pulled up my skirt exposing my bare legs while my feet splashed in the creek.

“Why, Lucy, you’ve went and grown up on me, and I never even noticed it ‘til now. There’s a young lady hiding behind those little-girl pigtails.”  He laughed and continued his lanky walk down the dusty road, leaving me breathless, standing in the creek with crawdads nibbling at my toes and water bugs skittering away from me on the surface of the cool water. I was more than spellbound; I was in love—totally and helplessly in love. Right before he was out of sight, I turned my head and picked up the daisy and continued my quest to see if he loved me or not.

The following Sunday he asked if he could walk me home from church. My heart tingled when he reached out for my hand. When we arrived at the house, he boldly kissed me. Prying eyes watched our first kiss from behind the lace curtains. Ma must have approved, for she had a smile on her face.

 The months we courted flew by, and although I thought it impossible, each day I fell more in love with him. He said I was different from other girls—that most acted timid and afraid around him. It was my belief he was the handsomest catch up the holler. I never told him, but they weren’t afraid of him; they were afraid of his ma.  Otherwise, they’d be trippin’ over their feet trying to be first in line to win a kiss from him.

I sighed and tapped my fingers on the windowpane. Ma always said I had the patience of a child on Christmas morning. I let out a quiet mousy squeal and my pulse quickened at the first glimpse of Jonathan and Preacher Davis traveling down the road.  My intended rode in his Uncle Isaac’s buggy, pulled by Jonathan’s horse, Sugar. The preacher, on his white horse, rode by his side. My heart fluttered at the sight of Jonathan’s handsome face. His smile grew bigger with every neigh and whinny of the horses that brought them closer and closer to our house. 

“Ma, they’re here!”

“Get back from the window, Lucy Frances Haynes. Your pa will greet them.” 

Whenever she used both of my given names, I knew I’d better do as she said. I backed up and she motioned for me to come stand near her. She smoothed her skirt and pushed back strands of her hair that was dotted with sweat from the heat of the cook stove.

“Lena, stop your worrying. You’re clucking around here like an ol’ mother hen trying to protect her chicks.” Pa rose from his chair, laid his hand upon Ma’s shoulder, and winked at her. His grin and gentle touch made Ma blush and most likely sent her thoughts back to their younger days when they were first married.

My parents’ home was becoming an empty house. My older brothers had married and moved out, and on most days my youngest brother, Robert, attended school. Now Pa had to let go of his only girl and, although he hid his emotions, that big heart of his must have ached. He swaggered across the floor to the front door to greet the visitors. 

Pa’s rough hands, hardened by many years of farm work, grasped the preacher’s hand with a tight grip and said, “Hello, Jim. How you doin’ today?”  

Preacher Davis had conducted the marriages of almost every couple up the holler and said many times it was his favorite duty as a preacher. His ‘marrying’ suit, worn and a little frazzled, had a small patch on the elbow of his right sleeve and two buttons missing. But people didn’t notice that. Everyone noticed his big smile and his red hair that was bushier than a fox’s tail.

Oh glory. I’m as nervous as a baby bird being pushed out of the nest for the first time by her ma. I wonder if Jonathan is as jumpy as I am. Under the long layers of my petticoats and skirt, my knees shook in anticipation. But as soon as Jonathan walked into the room, my nervousness melted like wax on a courtin’ candle. He glanced over the preacher’s shoulder and his gaze locked on mine. For that one marvelous moment it was as if we were the only ones in the room. My mind and my body drifted toward him, wanting to get the ceremony over and retreat to our house where we would be alone for the first time. But Ma took hold of my arm and stopped my forward motion. I came back to the present and waited impatiently as the men talked.  

After what seemed an eternity, but only a few minutes according to the hands of our clock on the mantle, Preacher Davis walked over and focused his attention on me. “Hello, Lucy. How’s the bride-to-be on this splendid afternoon?” 

“Hello, sir. I’m doin’ fine.” I smiled and gave a small curtsy. 

He hugged me and a broad grin grew beneath his moustache. “Why I’ve known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper. And here you are gettin’ married. Jonathan better be good to you or he’ll have me to answer to.” 

I smiled. “You have nothin’ to worry about, sir. I love him and he loves me.”

“Yes, he does. I could see the love in his eyes, and he did nothing but talk about you all the way over here.  But remember, when you get married, you don’t only marry the man, you marry into his family too.” He turned, put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder and steered him over to the fireplace and again joined Pa in conversation.

Confusion filled my thoughts.  What did he mean by that? Does he think I won’t be able to get along with his ma? Why is the preacher talking to Jonathan so long? Is he trying to talk him out of marrying me? Maybe Jonathan’s ma spoke to him. Oh glory. She doesn’t want me as a daughter-in-law. I just know it. Maybe I should be afraid of his ma, like the other girls in the holler. What am I getting myself into?  I bit my lower lip and took a deep breath. Calm down, Lucy.  He loves me. I know he does and not even his ma can change that fact. Even the petals of the daisy told me, and they never lie. 

 My clammy fingers fidgeted with the embroidered hanky Ma had given me earlier for something new and something blue. I gasped. What were my borrowed and old items? Had Ma forgotten? I couldn’t get married without them. Restless, my feet stirred beneath my skirt. Should I turn and run or stay?

More book excerpts from WV writers:

‘The Girl From Stretchneck Holler’ now out as e-book(Opens in a new browser tab)

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