Everybody's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

everything, but it seemed to have little impact; they regarded their visit to the bait shop as a lovely adventure.
    Beamer brushed back the hair from Kari’s face and pulled the nightgown down over her rump. She zipped up the sleeping bag and repositioned Kari in the center of the cot. Then she turned to tuck in Teresa, who was sleeping in Beamer’s bed. She sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hand over the little girl’s head. Beamer leaned against the headboard and closed her eyes.
    Teresa had been the last child born at the commune. Beamer had witnessed Teresa’s birth, had been nine years old when she sat quietly in a corner of a room while her mother, Daryl, and the midwife tended Sandra. Births were common by then, and Teresa’s was no reason for a party. Besides, the Woodies all agreed, it was spring and few people could be spared from work.
    Sandra had pounded on her husband to relieve the pain and Beamer had pushed herself deeper into the corner and covered her eyes. Her mother had finally pulled her away from the wall and displayed the baby. Tired and proud, Mrs. Flynn said, “Here’s our new girl!”
    Beamer looked at the wet, messy newborn. “She’s not ours. She doesn’t belong to us. She’s theirs.”
    “Beamer!” Her mother’s voice was sharp.
    Beamer looked at Sandra. Sandra nodded and winked.
    Now the little girl shifted and pushed a bare leg free of the covers. Beamer opened her eyes, blinking away the memory. As she straightened the covers, she studied Teresa’s face and saw Sandra’s. “Oh, you are your mother’s daughter,” murmured Beamer.
    Sandra had been the first outsider to join Woodlands. Only nineteen years old when she arrived, she had already spent three years hitchhiking across the country, surviving by working odd jobs and living in a series of urban communes. She had read about Woodlands in an underground newspaper.
    Though they welcomed her warmly, the Woodies were apprehensive and concerned that any newcomer might unsettle the group’s unity. Finally, after several sessions of group consultation, she was invited to stay.
    Daryl was soon interested, and they were married within a few months. It was the first wedding at the commune, and the Woodies celebrated it with a daylong party which began with the lakefront ceremony. Beamer was the flower girl. As the group of friends waited by the still, clear lake, applauding and cheering, Beamer laid a path of wildflowers before the approaching barefooted couple.
    It was Sandra who urged the Woodies to expand their activities beyond the commune. “You can’t make a difference in the world by hiding in the woods and talking to yourselves,” she chided. “Things can be changed. It will happen, but only if we work at it. We must put our faith into action.”
    The Woodies agreed, but how to do it?
    “Food co-ops are starting up everywhere,” she said, “and they can’t get good peanut butter.”
    The Woodies pounced eagerly on Sandra’s suggestion. Yes, they said, we’ll import peanuts and make and sell natural, healthful peanut butter. A service to co-ops! Let’s put our faith into action!
    The business was successful, but for the newly inspired Woodies, it wasn’t enough. They rolled on: Build a greenhouse! Grow and sell chemical-free plants to shops and markets! Put our faith into action! Open our nursery school to poor children in the area—playmates for Beamer and the others! Put our faith into action!
    Teresa’s leg sprang free again. Beamer replaced the cover. “Faith into action,” she said, picturing the words that, with the opening of the peanut butter business, had been carved in the mantelpiece over the dining hall fireplace. She kissed her fingertips and laid them on Teresa’s brow. “Faith into action,” she repeated. “Well, one of them finally took it too far.” She rose, turned off the light, and left.
    The kitchen was empty. She poured herself a soda, then called Andy. He answered on the