YT YouTube2Text

YouTube2Text → Transcripts → Abandoned at 22, She Opened Her Late Mother’s Sealed Root Cellar — Mom Had Hidden Something for Her

Abandoned at 22, She Opened Her Late Mother’s Sealed Root Cellar — Mom Had Hidden Something for Her — Transcript

by Soul Inside · 8,103 words · 1,131 segments · language en · Watch on YouTube

Open in transcriber Summarize with AI Download SRT/VTT

Full transcript

0:00The day Laney Puit took a drill to her
0:02dead mother's root cellar, she was 22
0:04years old, 11 days from bankruptcy court
0:07and holding $212 in her coat pocket. Her
0:11husband had done this. Trent Doyle had
0:13smiled at her over a kitchen table and
0:15asked her to sign three loans for a
0:17business that never existed. Then one
0:20Tuesday in August, he took the truck,
0:22the savings, and the last of her trust
0:25and drove out of Spokane without a
0:27goodbye. What he left her was $38,000 of
0:30debt with her name on every line. So she
0:33came home. Home was 11 acres in Harland
0:36Creek, Idaho, a crooked farmhouse her
0:38mother had left her in a will. Her
0:40mother had not spoken to her in 5 years.
0:43And behind that farmhouse, set into the
0:46hill, was the root cellar. The hatch had
0:48been screwed shut and sealed with a
0:50thick gray bead of caul,
0:53the way you'd seal a grave. But someone
0:56had cut a brass mail slot into that
0:58sealed door, and the brass was polished
1:01bright, as if someone had been using it
1:04all along. Subscribe and stay with
1:06Laney. What she finds down there changes
1:08everything. 6 weeks earlier, Laney was
1:12standing in the back of a pharmacy in
1:13Spokane, counting pills by fives. 5 10
1:1815 20. Sweep them into the bottle. Next,
1:23she was good at it. faster than the
1:25girls who'd been there longer. Her
1:27manager, a tired man named Gary, once
1:30watched her count 200 tablets without
1:32looking up and said, "Where'd you learn
1:34that?" "My mom," she said. "We counted
1:37jars." He laughed like it was a joke. It
1:41wasn't. Laney grew up in Harland Creek,
1:43deep in the Silver Valley, where the
1:45mountains close in like hands and the
1:48old mine headframes stand on the ridges
1:50like rusted crosses. Her mother, Ruth,
1:53kept a cellar dug into the hill behind
1:55the house. Every August they filled it.
1:57Applesauce, pear butter, green beans,
2:01and salt brine. Laney's job was to count
2:03the jars and write the labels. Her
2:05mother had a saying for it. She said it
2:08every single fall, wiping her hands on
2:10her apron, looking at those shelves like
2:12they were a bank vault. Put a little by,
2:15Laney. Winter always comes. Ruth Puit
2:18was not a soft woman. She didn't hug
2:21much. She didn't say I love you at
2:23bedtime. She said lights out and shoes
2:27by the door. But she braided Lany's hair
2:30every morning with quick, careful
2:32fingers. And she always always knew
2:35where Lany was. Laney's father was
2:38another story. Dale Puit worked 30 years
2:41underground at the Sunrise Mine until
2:43the mine closed and left him with a bad
2:45back and nowhere to put his anger. Laney
2:48learned young what his truck sounded
2:50like coming up the gravel drive. She
2:52learned how the house went quiet before
2:54he walked in. Her mother would turn the
2:56radio down without being asked. There
2:59was a hole in the hallway drywall about
3:02the size of a fist that her mother
3:04covered with a calendar and never
3:06mentioned again. [clears throat] That
3:08calendar was strange, too. Laney noticed
3:11it once when she was 12. Little initials
3:14were penciled in on different days. IV
3:17on the 3rd, CP on the 9th, DK on the
3:2120th. When she asked, her mother just
3:23said church ladies and flipped the page.
3:26At 17, Laney found out she was pregnant.
3:30The boy was gone before she'd even told
3:32him. And when her father found out, the
3:34whole house shook. She remembered the
3:36plates more than the words. She
3:39remembered her mother standing in the
3:40hall, very still, between her father and
3:43the door to Laney's room. The next
3:46morning, before dawn, Ruth woke her up.
3:49There was a blue duffel bag already
3:51packed on the bed, a bus ticket to
3:54Spokane. Her mother's face was gray and
3:57hard as riverstone. "Go," Ruth said.
4:00"And don't come back." That was it. That
4:03was the last thing her mother ever said
4:05to her face. Laneany rode the bus west,
4:08crying so hard the driver brought her a
4:10paper cup of water. When she finally
4:12unzipped the duffel bag in a shelter in
4:15Spokane, she found an envelope tucked
4:17inside the lining. $600 in worn bills.
4:21On the front, a small square label, the
4:24kind they used for jars. On the label,
4:27in block letters, P A LB #1. She never
4:32knew what it meant. She figured it came
4:34from her friend Becca's mother, who'd
4:36always been kind. She meant to send a
4:38thank you note. She never did. She wrote
4:41her mother letters instead. One a month
4:43for the first year, then birthdays, then
4:47Christmas, then nothing because nothing
4:49ever came back. Juny was born that
4:52spring. Juniper Ruth Puit. Laney gave
4:55her the middle name anyway. She told
4:57herself it was out of spite. It wasn't.
5:00And sometimes strange small mercies
5:02found them. A $100 bill in her mailbox
5:05in an unmarked envelope every April for
5:085 years. She assumed it was the church
5:11down the block. She went once to thank
5:13the pastor. He looked confused and kind
5:17and said, "Well, God moves how he
5:20moves." She met Trent when Juny was
5:22three. He was easy and charming and good
5:24with tools. He called Juny Bug. He
5:28married Laney at the courthouse in a
5:30borrowed blazer. For a little while, it
5:32felt like she'd finally put something
5:34by. Then came the loans. It's just your
5:37credits cleaner than mine, babe. He said
5:40landscaping business. Two trucks, a
5:43trailer, a skid steer will be paid off
5:46in a year. She counted every page before
5:48she signed. She was careful. She just
5:51wasn't careful about him. The fall came
5:54in pieces and then all at once. First
5:57the business account went empty. Then
5:59Trent stopped coming home on weekends.
6:01Job in Cordelane, he said. job in
6:04Missoula. Then one Tuesday in August,
6:08Laney came home from the pharmacy with
6:10Juny on her hip and a bag of groceries,
6:12and the truck was gone. His half of the
6:14closet was empty. The coffee can on the
6:17fridge where they kept emergency cash
6:18was empty. There was a note on the
6:20counter in his messy hand. It said, "I'm
6:23sorry. I'm not built for this." She read
6:26it four times. Then she put away the
6:29groceries because Juny was hungry and
6:31that's what you do. The call started a
6:34week later. Collections, the equipment
6:36lender, a woman with a calm voice who
6:38kept saying, "Mrs. Doyle, I understand."
6:42When she clearly did not. The trucks had
6:45been sold. The skid steer had never
6:47existed. The loans had not. $38,000,
6:51give or take, and every signature was
6:54hers. Then the pharmacy cut her hours
6:57because Juny got strep and then an ear
6:59infection and Laney missed four shifts
7:01in two weeks. Then the landlord taped a
7:04notice on the door. Then the notice
7:06turned into a date. On the last night in
7:09the apartment, Laney sat on the floor
7:11between two garbage bags of clothes.
7:14Juny came out of the bedroom in her
7:16pajamas and her pink sneakers, laces
7:19tied tight, her little purple backpack
7:22strapped on both shoulders. Baby, why
7:24are your shoes on? Juny looked at her
7:26very seriously. She was five with Ruth's
7:30sharp chin and Lany's brown eyes. So we
7:33can go fast, she said. Like when Trent
7:36left, you said hurry. Laney opened her
7:38mouth. Nothing came out. From that night
7:41on, Juny slept in her shoes. Every night
7:45backpack on the pillow beside her,
7:47zipped, ready. Two days later, a letter
7:50found Lanany at her friend Dy's couch,
7:53forwarded twice. It was from a lawyer in
7:56Wallace, Idaho named Jean Thally. Dear
7:59Miss Puit, I regret to inform you that
8:02your mother, Ruth Anne Puit, passed away
8:04on July 30th. Under the terms of her
8:07will, the property at 14 Cutler Road,
8:10Harland Creek, has been left to you in
8:13full. July 30th. Nearly a month ago,
8:17nobody had called. Laney sat in Dy's
8:20bathroom with the water running so Juny
8:23wouldn't hear her. She didn't cry for
8:25very long. She was too tired. Mostly,
8:28she sat there and thought, "She left me
8:30the house. She didn't leave me a single
8:33word, but she left me the house." She
8:36had $212.
8:38She had a 5-year-old in pink sneakers.
8:41She had a court summon from the
8:42equipment lender's lawyer and a
8:44bankruptcy attorney who'd looked at her
8:46paperwork with pity, and she had nowhere
8:48else to go. Harland Creek looked exactly
8:51the same, which somehow hurt worse. The
8:54road wound up out of the valley through
8:56Tamarak's gone gold for October. Old
8:59Tailings piles sat gray along the creek.
9:02The sunrise head frame still leaned on
9:04the ridge. Laney's borrowed hatchback
9:07coughed the whole way up Cutler Road. Is
9:10this grandma's house? Juny asked from
9:12the back seat. It was. Is it a shoes on
9:15house or a shoes off house? Laney
9:17gripped the wheel. We<unk>ll see, Bug.
9:20The farmhouse sat at the end of the
9:21gravel drive, white paint peeling, porch
9:24sagging on one side. The apple trees had
9:27dropped their fruit, and the yard
9:29smelled sweet and rotten.
9:31[clears throat] The windows were dark. A
9:33curtain in the kitchen hung half off its
9:35rod. At the gas station down in town,
9:38the cashier had looked at Lany's address
9:40and gone quiet. Ruth Puit's place, he
9:44said. Folks, don't go up there much.
9:47Dale's brother tried to clear it out
9:48after the funeral. Said he couldn't get
9:51into half of it. He leaned in. Some say
9:54she sealed it up because Dale hid money.
9:56Some say worse. Worse, like what? He
9:59shrugged and handed her the change. just
10:02that nobody stayed up there long but
10:04Ruth. Inside, the house smelled of dust
10:07and dried lavender and something faintly
10:10like silver polish. Her mother's reading
10:12glasses still sat folded on the kitchen
10:14window sill. A mug sat upside down in
10:17the dish rack. The calendar still hung
10:19in the hallway over that old hole in the
10:21drywall. It was turned to July and there
10:24were still initials on it. IV on the 3,
10:28MS on the 11th. And on the 30th, in a
10:31shakier hand, a single letter, L. The
10:35day she died, Laney stood there a long
10:38time. Upstairs, her old bedroom was
10:40untouched. Same quilt, same water stain
10:43on the ceiling, shaped like Florida. But
10:45the dresser was new, small, painted pale
10:49yellow. The top drawer had a little
10:51handlettered card tucked into the brass
10:53pole. Juny. Laneany sat down hard on the
10:56bed. Her mother knew her granddaughter's
10:59name. Her mother had never met her
11:01granddaughter. Her mother had never
11:03answered a single letter. Mommy.
11:05Jun<unk>'s voice came from outback, high
11:07and excited. Laney ran. Juny was
11:10crouched in the weeds behind the house
11:12at the base of the hill where the root
11:14seller hatch sat set into the slope. The
11:17door was thick old wood painted barn red
11:20long ago, and it was sealed. Every edge
11:24screwed down tight with a gray bead of
11:26caul run all the way around, but in the
11:29middle of it, at about the height of a
11:30grown woman's hand, was a brass mail
11:33slot. "Mommy," Juny whispered. "The
11:36ground has a mailbox." Laney knelt. The
11:39brass was polished, not old, not
11:42tarnished, bright as a new spoon. And in
11:45the gravel beside the hatch, Juny held
11:48up something small and shining between
11:49two dirty fingers. a dime. Old 1958,
11:54heavy for its size and silver all the
11:57way through. That night, Juny slept in
12:00her shoes in the little bed under the
12:01floor to stain. Laney lay awake
12:04listening to the house tick and settle
12:06and to the wind moving across the slope
12:08out back. And once near 2:00 in the
12:11morning, she could have sworn she heard
12:13a soft metal clink, like something
12:16dropping through a slot. In the morning,
12:18there were tire tracks in the frost at
12:20the end of the drive. The nearest
12:22neighbor was Hollis Brandt. He lived a
12:25quarter mile down Cutler Road in a log
12:27house with a satellite dish and three
12:29sleeping dogs on the porch. He'd worked
12:32underground with her father for 20
12:34years. When Laney was little, he'd given
12:36her root beer barrels from his coat
12:38pocket at church. He was 80 now. He
12:41opened the door, looked at her, and his
12:43face did something complicated. Laney.
12:46He said, "Lord, you look just like her.
12:49Nobody called me Hollis." He let that
12:52sit. No, he said. "I know." He made
12:55coffee. He gave Juny a root beer barrel
12:58from a jar on the counter, and Lany's
13:00throat closed up at the sight of it.
13:02Juny took it and sat with the dogs. "Why
13:05is the root seller sealed?" Laney asked.
13:08Hollis looked at his hands. "They were
13:10big, scarred, steady." Your mother did
13:13that in June when she knew. Knew what?
13:17That she didn't have long cancer,
13:20pancreas. She didn't tell many people.
13:23Laneany stared at her coffee. Her mother
13:25had been dying all summer 300 m away.
13:28And Laneany had been counting pills by
13:31fives. She screwed it shut herself.
13:33Hollis said wouldn't let me help. Said
13:36Royce would come sniffing the minute she
13:38was in the ground. Uncle Royce. He's
13:40been up there twice since the funeral
13:43with a crowbar the second time. I ran
13:45him off. Hollis almost smiled. Shotgun
13:49wasn't loaded. He didn't know that.
13:51What's he looking for? Hollis was quiet.
13:54Hollis, what's down there? Your dad used
13:57to say she was hiding his money. He
13:59shook his head slowly. Dale never had
14:02money to hide. Drank most of it, but he
14:05believed it. Royce believes it, too. and
14:08the mail slot. Somebody's been polishing
14:10it. Somebody was out there last night.
14:13Hollis set his mug down very carefully
14:15like it might break. Your mother was a
14:17good woman, Laney. Better than anybody
14:19in this valley gave her credit for.
14:22Better than you know. She sent me away,
14:25Laneany said, and her voice cracked
14:27right down the middle. I was 17. I was
14:30pregnant. She put me on a bus and told
14:33me not to come back. I wrote her every
14:35month. She never wrote once. Hollis
14:38didn't argue. He didn't defend her. He
14:41just looked out the window at the dogs
14:43and Juny and the gold tamarax on the
14:45ridge. She did what she had to, he said
14:48finally. That's not an answer. No, it's
14:51not. He stood up and took her mug to the
14:53sink, his back to her. There's something
14:55else. But it's not mine to tell. Not
14:58yet. Then whose is it? He didn't turn
15:01around. That afternoon, Laney borrowed
15:04Hollis's cordless drill. It took her 40
15:06minutes to back out every screw. Her
15:08mother had used 3-in deck screws, one
15:11every 4 in. She'd meant it. Laney cut
15:14the caul with a box cutter. Juny held
15:16the flashlight with both hands, very
15:19serious, shoes laced tight. The door
15:22groaned open. Cool air rose up out of
15:24the hill. It smelled of dirt and apples
15:27and cold stone. The stairs went down
15:30eight steps. The cellar was bigger than
15:32Laney remembered. shelves, floor to
15:34ceiling on three walls, packed with
15:36jars, applesauce, faded gold, pear
15:40butter, beans gone pale in their brine,
15:43decades of labels in her mother's square
15:45hand, and under the mail slot set on the
15:48floor, a galvanized milk can with a
15:50funnel on top. Laney looked in. Coins, a
15:54few dozen, dimes and quarters, all old,
15:58all shining. Mommy, Juny said. There's
16:02jars behind the jars. She was right.
16:05Laney pulled out a row of applesauce.
16:08Behind it pushed deep into the shelf sat
16:10a second row. Plain quart jars. No food,
16:15just silver packed tight to the
16:17shoulders with dimes, quarters, half
16:19dollars, and here and there the big
16:22round face of an old silver dollar. Each
16:24one had a small square label. PLAB #2
16:29PLB#3
16:31PLB #4 She pulled out row after row with
16:35shaking hands. 12 jars 20 31 each with a
16:41number and on the end of the top shelf a
16:44clean ring in the dust where a jar used
16:46to sit and a label stuck to the wood
16:48itself. #1 Lany's hand went to her coat
16:53pocket as if the envelope might still be
16:55there. $600, a bus ticket, a blue duffel
17:00bag. She sat down on the seller steps
17:02with Juny's flashlight beam wobbling
17:04across all that silver and she counted
17:07because counting was the only thing that
17:09made sense. 5 10 15 20. There was a coin
17:15shop in Cordelane called Hail and
17:17Daughter. Laney picked it because the
17:19reviews mentioned the owner by name and
17:22said he didn't lowball widows. Marcus
17:24Hail was in his 50s, bald, wearing
17:27reading glasses on a beaded chain. His
17:30teenage daughter ran the register. Laney
17:32set one jar on the counter. Just one.
17:36#14. She'd wrapped it in a dish towel
17:39like it was a baby. Marcus unscrewed the
17:41lid and poured a little into a felt
17:43tray. He went very still. Where'd these
17:46come from? My mother's root seller. He
17:49picked up a half dollar with tweezers.
17:51Then a quarter. Then a Morgan silver
17:53dollar, which he turned slowly under the
17:56lamp. These are all pre-1965,
17:59he said. 90% silver. Everyone I can see.
18:03That's not an accident. Somebody sorted
18:06these. Somebody knew what they were
18:08doing. Is it a lot? He weighed the jar,
18:11did math on a yellow pad. This jar
18:14alone, melt value, you're looking at a
18:16little over $900. Some of these dollars
18:19are worth more than melt. How many jars
18:22are there? Laney swallowed. 31 with
18:25numbers on them. He set the pen down.
18:28Ma'am, I want you to hear me. Don't
18:30bring them all in here at once. Don't
18:33tell anybody what's down there. Small
18:35towns talk. But Marcus kept frowning at
18:37the tray. He spread the coins with one
18:40finger. Something's odd, he said. Look
18:43at the rappers. Some of the quarters
18:46were still in old paper rolls stamped
18:48with bank names. This is first Silver
18:51Valley Bank from the 70s. This one's
18:54from a credit union in Kellogg. These
18:56are from the '9s. Different hands rolled
18:59these. Different decades. He looked up.
19:02This isn't one person's savings. This is
19:05a lot of people putting a little in over
19:07a long time. Laney stared at him. Like a
19:10collection plate, he said, or a fund.
19:13She drove home slowly through the dusk
19:16with jar 14 wrapped in a towel on the
19:18passenger seat untouched and the yellow
19:21sheet of paper in her pocket. In the
19:23back seat, Juny had fallen asleep with
19:26her shoes on. At the gas station in
19:28Harland Creek, a man in a feed store cap
19:30was filling up a red pickup at the next
19:32pump. He watched her the whole time. He
19:35watched the dish towel on her seat. When
19:38she pulled out, he took out his phone.
19:40The bankruptcy attorney was a woman
19:42named Diane Fuches and she called on
19:44Monday. I've got news and I've got news,
19:47she said. Laney stood on the porch with
19:50her phone pressed to her ear, watching
19:52Juny dig in the dirt with a spoon. The
19:55equipment lender is suing. You know that
19:58the hearings December 2nd in Spokane
20:00County, their lawyer has offered a
20:02settlement. If you pay $26,400
20:05by December 1st, they'll dismiss the
20:08whole thing and close the account. I
20:10don't have $26,000.
20:12I know that's the other news. Diane took
20:15a breath. If you can't settle, you'll
20:17have to file chapter 7. And Laneany
20:20inherited property you received within
20:22that window becomes part of the
20:23bankruptcy estate. The trustee would
20:25sell the farm to pay your creditors. All
20:27of it. The house, the land, everything
20:30in it. Everything in it. How long do I
20:33have? 7 weeks. December 1st, 5:00 p.m.
20:37After she hung up, Laney went inside and
20:40stood in front of the hallway calendar.
20:42She took it down off the nail. Under it,
20:44the old fist-shaped hole stared back at
20:47her. She flipped forward past July and
20:50August and September to December, and
20:52with her mother's pencil from the window
20:54sill, she circled the first 26,400.
20:58That night, she did the math at the
21:00kitchen table, the way she'd always
21:02done. Marcus' numbers, 31 jars. If they
21:06were all like 14, she'd have more than
21:08enough. She could pay Trent's debt,
21:10every cent of it, and still fix the
21:12porch. She should have felt relief.
21:15Instead, she felt sick because she kept
21:18thinking about the bank rappers,
21:19different hands, different decades, and
21:22she kept thinking about the brass slot,
21:24polished bright. Somebody was still
21:27feeding that seller and somebody had
21:29been out there in the dark. She went
21:31down at midnight with the flashlight.
21:33The milk can under the slot had new
21:35coins in it, a roll of quarters still
21:37sealed, and a folded square of paper,
21:40the first she'd ever found, it said in
21:43an old woman's tidy cursive for Ruth's
21:46girl. You leave those jars alone till
21:48you know. Her uncle came on Thursday.
21:51Royce Puit drove a red pickup and wore a
21:53feed store cap. Of course he did. He
21:56stood at the bottom of the porch steps
21:58with his hands in his jacket pockets,
22:00smiling the way her father used to smile
22:03right before something got broken.
22:05Delaney, look at you all grown up.
22:08Royce, sorry about your mama. Real
22:11sorry. He looked past her toward the
22:13hill. Heard you got that cellar open.
22:16She didn't answer. Here's the thing,
22:18Royce said, friendly as a church usher.
22:21This land was Puit land. Our daddy
22:23bought it in ' 62. Dale should never
22:26have let Ruth put it in her name. That's
22:28a sore point in the family. It's in my
22:30name now. It is. And I hear you got
22:34trouble here. Some boy left you holding
22:36a pile of debt. He shook his head,
22:38sympathetic. So, I'm going to help you.
22:4130,000 cash for the house, the land, and
22:44whatever's in it. You sign by Friday.
22:47You walk away clean. Pay off your boy's
22:50mess. Start over somewhere nice. 30,000
22:53more than the settlement. Why? Family,
22:56Royce said. Dad used to say mom was
22:59hiding his money down there. Royce's
23:01smile slipped. Just a little. Dale said
23:04a lot of things. So did you. I bet. You
23:07just said them quieter. That landed. His
23:10face went flat. He took a step up onto
23:12the first porch stair. Let me tell you
23:15what's down there, Delaney. Stolen
23:17money. Dale's money. 30 years of a man's
23:20paychecks skimmed by a wife who lied to
23:22his face. Legally, that's Dale's estate.
23:25And Dale's estate is family. You sell
23:28one coin of it, I'll have the sheriff on
23:30you for theft. Juny had come to the
23:32screen door. She was standing very
23:35still, shoes on, backpack on, one hand
23:38on the door frame. Royce saw her. He
23:41touched the brim of his cap. Friday, he
23:44said, and got in his truck. The next
23:46morning, the woman showed up. She was in
23:49her 70s, small and straightbacked, with
23:52a red wool scarf and a face like a
23:54winter apple. She stood at the property
23:56line by the mailbox, not coming closer,
23:59just watching the house. Laney walked
24:01down the drive. "Can I help you? You
24:04opened it," the woman said. It wasn't a
24:06question. "It's my mother's cellar. It's
24:09mine now." The woman's mouth tightened.
24:11"Leave those jars be, girl. You don't
24:14know what you're holding. Then tell me.
24:16The woman looked at her for a long hard
24:19moment. Then she turned and walked back
24:21down Cutler Road toward town, red scarf
24:24bright against the gray, and didn't look
24:26back. Laney stood there with her heart
24:29pounding. Another one. Another person
24:32who wanted the silver. Hollis came by
24:34that evening with a pot of chili. When
24:36Laneany described the woman in the red
24:38scarf, he got quiet. That's Ilsa Varga,
24:41he said. IV. On the third, Laneany
24:45didn't sleep. She sat at the kitchen
24:47table with the calendar and a cold cup
24:49of coffee. Around midnight, she heard
24:52Hollis's truck idle down the road and
24:54stop at the end of the drive. Just
24:56sitting there, engine running,
24:58headlights off. She put on her boots and
25:00walked out to him in the dark. He rolled
25:03down the window. You've been doing this
25:05every night, she said. Somebody has to.
25:08Why, Hollis? He looked at her for a long
25:11time. The engine hummed. The dogs in his
25:14back seat thumped their tails. Because I
25:16promised her, he said, "Same as I
25:19promised her the first time." "What?
25:21First time?" He turned off the engine.
25:24The silence came in like water. Every
25:26April, he said, "For 5 years, I drove to
25:29Spokane. Ruth gave me the address. I'd
25:32park across from your apartment and sit
25:34there till I saw you come out with that
25:36baby just to see you were all right.
25:39Then I'd put $100 in your mailbox and
25:42drive home and tell her. Laney couldn't
25:44breathe. She made me describe
25:46everything. Hollis said what you were
25:49wearing. If you looked thin, if the baby
25:52had a coat. One year Juny had on little
25:55red rain boots. And Ruth made me tell it
25:57four times. Red boots. She just kept
26:00saying it. Red boots. I thought it was
26:03the church. Laney whispered. I know. Why
26:07didn't she come herself? Why didn't she
26:09write? Hollis rubbed his face with one
26:12big hand. Because Dale read every piece
26:14of mail that came into that house.
26:16Everyone. Your letters, too. He paused.
26:20He read them out loud at the supper
26:22table, laughing. And then he'd burn them
26:24in the stove. And Ruth would sit there
26:27and not say a word because if he ever
26:29found out where you were, he stopped.
26:32She couldn't risk it, honey. Not with
26:34you. Not with that baby. Laney sat down
26:37right there on the cold gravel by his
26:39truck. She had pictured her mother so
26:41many ways, reading the letters and
26:44throwing them away, not reading them at
26:46all, too proud, too hard, too ashamed.
26:50She had never once pictured her mother
26:52at a supper table, listening to her
26:54daughter's words read out in a cruel
26:56voice, and holding perfectly still so
26:59that daughter could stay hidden. She
27:01knew about Jun's red boots, Laney said.
27:04She knew everything, said Hollis. She
27:06just couldn't touch any of it. The
27:08setback came the following Wednesday,
27:11wearing a sheriff's uniform. Deputy Sam
27:14Okapor was young and polite and clearly
27:16did not want to be there. He stood on
27:19the porch with a folded paper. Ma'am,
27:21Royce Puit filed a complaint. He says
27:24the contents of the seller are property
27:26of Dale Puit's estate and he's claiming
27:28as next of kin to Dale. Until a judge
27:31sorts it out, I've got to ask you not to
27:34remove, sell, or transfer anything down
27:36there. It's my mother's house. My
27:39mother's will. Yes, ma'am. And the house
27:41is yours. But the coins, he says, were
27:44Dale's wages. And Dale died without a
27:47will. He shifted his weight. It's a
27:50mess. Probate court in Wallace. There's
27:52a hearing November 19th. I have a
27:55deadline December 1st. I'm sorry. He
27:58meant it. That almost made it worse. He
28:00put a strip of yellow evidence tape
28:02across the cellar hatch. Juny watched
28:05from the porch with her backpack on.
28:07That night, Laney called Diane Fuks. Can
28:10I get an extension? I asked. Their
28:13lawyer said no. December 1st or we file.
28:17She went to the probate hearing in
28:18Wallace on the 19th in her one good
28:21sweater. Royce had a lawyer in a gray
28:23suit.
28:25Laney had a manila folder with Marcus
28:27Hail's yellow sheet and a copy of her
28:29mother's will. It went badly fast.
28:33Royce's lawyer stood up and said Ruth
28:35Puit had worked part-time at a
28:36laundromat and cleaned two motel for 30
28:39years and could not possibly have saved
28:41that much silver. Honestly, he said Dale
28:44Puit had been paid in part by silver
28:46bonus dollars from the Sunrise Mine in
28:48the 80s, which was true. He said the
28:52only reasonable explanation was that
28:53Ruth had skimmed her husband's wages for
28:55decades. Mrs. Doyle, the judge asked,
28:59"Do you have any evidence of where these
29:01coins came from?" Laney stood up. My
29:04mother saved them. From what income? She
29:06opened her mouth, closed it. She didn't
29:09know. She had numbers on jars and a note
29:12in a stranger's cursive and a mail slot
29:15nobody could explain. "I don't know,
29:17your honor," the judge sighed. "The
29:19freeze stays. We'll reconvene in
29:21January. January. After December 1st,
29:25outside the courthouse, Royce walked
29:27past her on the steps and didn't even
29:30look at her. That was the worst part. He
29:32didn't have to. She drove home with her
29:35hands numb on the wheel. Juny asked from
29:37the back seat. Very small. Did we lose?
29:41Kind of. A long silence. Then, are we
29:45going to have to go fast again? Laney
29:47pulled over on the shoulder by the creek
29:50under the leaning headframe and put her
29:52forehead on the steering wheel. And for
29:54the first time since Trent's note, she
29:57cried until there was nothing left. What
29:59was she even fighting for? A cold house.
30:02A mother who'd been a stranger. Jars she
30:05couldn't touch. Maybe her father had
30:07been right. Maybe it was stolen. Maybe
30:10she'd been a fool to think anyone had
30:12ever been saving anything for her. Royce
30:15called the next morning like he could
30:17smell it. Heard about Wallace? He said,
30:20"Look, I'm not a monster. I'll go 35
30:24cash today. You sign, I drop the
30:28complaint, you pay your boy's bank, and
30:30you and the little one are in a nice
30:32apartment by Christmas. 35,000, enough
30:35for the settlement, enough for first and
30:38last month's rent. Enough to never hear
30:40a collection's voice again. I'll come by
30:43at 4:00, he said. Bring a pen. At 3:30,
30:47Laney sat at the kitchen table with
30:49Royce's offer printed out in front of
30:50her. Diane had looked it over by email.
30:54It's legal, she'd written. It solves the
30:56debt. I can't tell you what to do. Laney
30:59picked up the pen. It was her mother's
31:02from the windowsill. Blue ink chewed
31:04cap. She thought about Spokane, a clean
31:07apartment, a new job, not being a puit
31:10in Harland Creek where everyone knew
31:13everything and no one ever said it out
31:14loud. She thought, "Just sign it. Just
31:18be done." She heard the red pickup
31:20turning onto Cutler Road, and then she
31:22heard Jun's feet on the stairs. Juny
31:24came into the kitchen in her pink
31:26sneakers, backpack strapped on, holding
31:29something in both hands. It was the
31:31little card from the yellow dresser.
31:33Juny in Ruth's square hand. Is this my
31:36grandma's writing? Yes, baby. Juny
31:39studied it. She knew my name. She did.
31:43Did she want us to live here? Laney
31:45looked at the card at the dresser drawer
31:48it came from, empty and waiting at the
31:51circle on the calendar. At the pen in
31:54her hand, she thought about her mother
31:56dying, kneeling in the dirt with a
31:59drill, screwing that hatch shut one
32:01screw at a time. 3-inch screws every
32:05four inches, making sure no one could
32:07get in, making sure it would still be
32:09there for someone. Put a little by,
32:12Laney. Winter always comes. The red
32:15pickup stopped in the drive. Royce got
32:17out, smiling. Laney walked out onto the
32:20porch, holding the paper. She didn't
32:22come down the stairs. "Got that pen?" he
32:25said. "I do." She held it up. Then she
32:28folded the offer in half and in half
32:30again and put it in her pocket. I'm not
32:33selling Royce. His smile went away.
32:36You're going to lose it all in a week
32:38anyway, girl. Maybe, she said, but it
32:41won't be to you. He stood there a long
32:44moment. Then he spat in the gravel, got
32:47back in the truck, and spun his tires
32:49all the way to the road. Her legs were
32:51shaking. She sat down on the top step.
32:54Juny came and sat beside her, shoes on,
32:57and leaned into her arm. The next
33:00morning, before dawn, Laney walked down
33:02Cutler Road to town with the 1958 dime
33:06in her pocket. She found the house with
33:08the red scarf hanging on a hook by the
33:10door. She knocked. Ilsa Varga opened it
33:13in a bathrobe and didn't look surprised
33:16at all. Took you long enough, she said.
33:19"Come in. I'll make tea." Elsa's kitchen
33:22was spotless and smelled of cardamom. A
33:25row of canning jars sat on her window
33:26sill, empty, catching the light. Elsa
33:30poured tea, sat down, folded her hands,
33:33and looked at Laney. The way you look at
33:35weather coming. You think I want those
33:37coins? I don't know what anyone wants
33:39anymore. Fair, said Elsa. So, I'll tell
33:43you. Those coins aren't Dales, and
33:45they're not all yours either. They
33:47belong to every woman in this valley who
33:50ever needed to leave and couldn't. Laney
33:52set down her cup. Your grandmother Nell
33:55started it. Elsa said 1971.
33:58Back then, a woman around here couldn't
34:00open a bank account without her
34:02husband's signature. Couldn't get a
34:04credit card. Couldn't rent a room. The
34:06mine paid the men. The men held the
34:09money. And some of those men, she
34:11stopped. "Well, you grew up in that
34:14house. You know some of those men.
34:16Laneany thought of the fist-shaped hole.
34:19Nell had a seller and every woman in
34:22this valley canned. Nobody looks twice
34:24at a woman carrying jars. So the women
34:27started putting silver by a dime here. A
34:30quarter from the grocery change. A
34:33silver bonus dollar slipped out of a
34:35husband's coat pocket when he was too
34:36drunk to count. Silver because the bank
34:39didn't need to know. Silver because
34:42paper burns and silver doesn't. She
34:44almost smiled. And because this is the
34:46silver valley, it felt like taking back
34:49a little of what the mountain took. The
34:51male slot. Laney said, "Your mother cut
34:54that in 1994
34:56so women could drop coins without a key
34:59without anybody seeing them go in or
35:01out. Some came at night, some came at
35:04noon with a basket of pears. Your mother
35:07wrote our initials on her calendar so
35:09she'd know who'd been. IV on the 3, CP
35:13on the 9inth. When one of us needed to
35:15go, Elsa said quietly. Ruth took a jar
35:19down off the shelf. Bus ticket. A
35:21month's rent somewhere far. A label on
35:24the envelope so you'd know it was ours.
35:26She looked at Laney steadily. 55 years
35:29child. 41 women. 41 women got out of
35:32this valley on those jars. And their
35:35children CP Laney said slowly. Carla
35:39Puit. Ilsa's eyes glinted. Royce's wife.
35:432009. I carried her suitcase to the bus
35:46myself. He's never known how she did it.
35:49He's been trying to find out for 17
35:51years. That was why Royce wanted the
35:53seller. Not for the silver, for the
35:56secret. Npal put a little by. Ilsa's
36:00voice softened for the first time. Ruth
36:02saying, Nell saying before her. It was
36:05on every envelope. Laney pulled out the
36:08dime and set it on the table between
36:09them. Her hands were shaking. My
36:12envelope said number one. Ils looked at
36:14the dime for a long time. I know, she
36:17said. That's the part you need to hear.
36:20Sit still now. The night you told them
36:22you were pregnant, Elsa said. Your
36:24mother called me at 2:00 in the morning.
36:26She was whispering from the cellar. Dale
36:29had passed out in his chair. She said,
36:32Elsa, he's going to hurt her. Maybe not
36:35tonight, but he'll never let her leave,
36:37and he'll never let that baby be safe. I
36:40need Jar one. Laney's breath came short.
36:43Jar one was hers, Elsa said. Ruth's own
36:4720 [clears throat] years of tips from
36:49the motel and quarters from the
36:51laundromat. That was her way out. She'd
36:54been saving it since before you were
36:55born. She was going to take you and go.
36:58Then why didn't she? Because Dale had
37:01already said it out loud more than once.
37:04You ever leave Ruthie, I'll find you,
37:07both of you. And he would have. He knew
37:10everybody. Every cousin from here to
37:12Missoula. Your mother did the
37:14arithmetic. If she went with you, he'd
37:17hunt you both. If she stayed, he'd have
37:20someone to watch, someone to be angry
37:23at, and he'd never think to look for
37:25you. Ilsa's voice didn't waver. So, she
37:28gave you her jar and she stayed. She
37:31stayed in that house with that man for
37:34three more years so he'd never come
37:36looking for you. Laney was crying
37:38without sound now. And what she said to
37:41you on that porch, Elsa went on. It
37:44wasn't don't come back. I was standing
37:46in the yard. I heard her. She said go
37:49and don't come back while he's alive.
37:51Only her voice broke on the end of it.
37:54and you were already running for my car.
37:56For years, Laney had believed her mother
37:58sent her away because she was ashamed of
38:00her. Now she understood her mother had
38:03sent her away because it was the only
38:05way to save her. Dale died 2 years ago,
38:08Laney said through her teeth. 2 years?
38:10Why didn't she call? Elsa reached over
38:13and put her small dry hand over Lanes.
38:16Because the same month we buried Dale,
38:18the doctor found the cancer, and your
38:20mother had nothing left. She'd given her
38:23jar away, so she started over. Every
38:26tip, every quarter, every dollar Hollis
38:29made her take back from me for
38:30groceries. The motel let her keep
38:32working right up till June. Elsa
38:35squeezed those jars 2 through 31, the
38:38ones with numbers, those are yours,
38:41everyone. She told me, I'm not calling
38:43my girl with empty hands. I abandoned
38:46her once. When those jars are full, I'll
38:49call her. Laneany thought of the
38:51calendar. July 30th. L. She was going to
38:54call me, she whispered. She was going to
38:57drive to you. That's what the L was.
39:00She'd booked the bus. She died that
39:02morning. Ilsa's eyes were wet now, too.
39:05The other coins in the milk can under
39:08[clears throat] the slot. Those are ours
39:10still coming in. Still for whoever needs
39:13them next. Laneany looked down at the
39:15dime. The one Juny found in the gravel.
39:18She didn't abandon me. She said, "No,
39:21child," said Ilsie. "She stood between
39:23you and the door for your whole life.
39:26You just couldn't see her from where you
39:28were standing." The reharing was set for
39:30November 30th, one day before the
39:32deadline. Diane Fuches pulled strings in
39:35Wallace and got it moved up when Laney
39:37filed a new statement. The courtroom was
39:39nearly empty when Laney walked in. Royce
39:42sat up front with his lawyer in the gray
39:43suit, confident, arms folded. Then the
39:47doors at the back opened. Ilsa Varga
39:49came in first in her red scarf. Behind
39:52her came Hollis in a pressed shirt
39:55Lanany had never seen. And behind
39:57Hollis, women, old women and middle-aged
40:00women, a woman in nurses scrubs on her
40:03lunch break. A woman with a cane. A
40:06woman who'd driven all night from but
40:07with her grown son. They filled the
40:10benches. They filled the back wall. The
40:12judge looked up over his glasses. Mrs.
40:15Doyle, who are all these people? Laney
40:18stood up. Her knees were shaking. She
40:21held her mother's pen in her pocket so
40:23tightly the clip bit her palm. Your
40:25honor, you asked me last time where the
40:27silver came from. I didn't know. I know
40:30now. She turned and looked at the
40:32benches. It came from them. One by one,
40:36they stood. Margaret Sorenson, 1988. Jar
40:40from Ruth Puit seller got me to Seattle
40:43with two kids. Deborah Concaid. I put in
40:46silver every month for 12 years. I never
40:49needed to take it out. I put it in for
40:51whoever did. Ilsa Varga. I helped Ruth
40:54keep the books. Every coin in that
40:56seller was given freely by a woman of
40:58this valley. Not one of them was Dale
41:01Puits. Dale Puit never put a dime into
41:04anything but a bottle. Royce's lawyer
41:06was on his feet. Your honor, this is
41:08hearsay and sentiment. Then here's a
41:11fact, Elsa said sharply and looked
41:13straight at Royce. Jar nine, September
41:16[clears throat]
41:172009. Carla Puit, one-way ticket to
41:20Boseman. I rolled the quarters myself.
41:23The room went silent. Royce turned
41:25around in his seat. For the first time,
41:28Laney saw him without the smile. He
41:30looked old and confused and something
41:33worse than angry, exposed. 17 years he'd
41:37been wondering. 17 years he'd told the
41:40whole valley his wife ran off with some
41:42man. And here was the truth. In a room
41:45full of witnesses she'd run from him on
41:49silver the women of Harland Creek had
41:50put by. Laney stepped forward. She
41:53looked right at him. Not with hatred,
41:56just steady. My mother put a little by
41:59Royce. For 40 years, not to hurt
42:02anybody, so that when winter came,
42:05somebody could get out. Her voice didn't
42:07shake. Winter came for me and she'd
42:10already put it by. Royce's lawyer leaned
42:13over and whispered something. Royce
42:15didn't answer. He just stood up very
42:18slowly, buttoned his coat, and walked
42:20out the side door without a word. The
42:23judge took off his glasses and rubbed
42:25his eyes. "Mr. Puit's claim is
42:27withdrawn," he said a little roughly
42:30after the lawyer spoke to him. "The
42:32freeze is lifted. Miss Puit, the
42:35property is yours to do with as your
42:36mother intended. The women in the back
42:39didn't cheer. They were not cheering
42:41women. But Ilsa Varga let out a long
42:44breath like she'd been holding it since
42:461971,
42:47and Hollis put his big hand over his
42:49face. That afternoon, Marcus Hail drove
42:52up from Cordelane himself. He wouldn't
42:55let her carry the jars. He and his
42:57daughter counted at Ruth's kitchen table
42:59while Juny watched wideeyed. Laney
43:03counted with them by fives. Jars 2
43:06through 31 came to $31,800.
43:10On December 1st at 214 p.m. With almost
43:143 hours to spare, Laney wired $26,400
43:19to a law firm in Spokane. Diane Fuches
43:22called 10 minutes later. "It's done,"
43:25she said. "Account closed, case
43:28dismissed. You're free, Laney." Laneany
43:30hung up. She went to the hallway
43:32calendar, still turned to December, and
43:35erased the circle around the first.
43:38Then, very carefully, in her mother's
43:40pencil, she wrote a small letter in its
43:43place. L. That night, she gave Juny a
43:46bath and dried her hair and put her in
43:48flannel pajamas. Juny padded to her
43:51room. Laneany waited in the hall the way
43:54she did every night for the sound of the
43:56sneakers going back on. It didn't come.
43:59She peaked in. Juny was standing in
44:02front of the little yellow dresser.
44:04She'd taken off her backpack. She
44:06unzipped it and took out everything, one
44:08thing at a time. Two pairs of socks, a
44:11stuffed fox with one ear, a plastic bag
44:14of crayons, a photo of Laney from the
44:16pharmacy, and she put them one by one in
44:20the top drawer, the one with her name on
44:22it. Then she took off her pink sneakers.
44:25She set them side by side by the bedroom
44:27door, toes pointed out, the way Ruth had
44:30taught Laney a lifetime ago. Shoes by
44:33the door. Juny climbed into bed and
44:36pulled the quilt up under her chin.
44:38"Mommy," she said sleepily. "I figured
44:41it out. It's a shoes off house." Laneany
44:44sat on the edge of the bed and could not
44:46speak. She just put her hand on Jun's
44:49hair until her breathing went slow and
44:51even. Juny slept through the whole
44:53night. So did Lany. Two days later, she
44:56drove to Hollis's with a pot of chili of
44:58her own and stood on his porch with the
45:00dogs thumping their tails. "Thank you,"
45:03she said. "For April, for the red
45:06boots." Hollis looked at her a long
45:08time. Then he hugged her. Clumsy, big,
45:12smelling of wood smoke. She'd have been
45:14so proud of you, he said into her hair.
45:17She was every April. And the next
45:20Sunday, Ilsa came to supper. She brought
45:23a jar of pear butter and a roll of
45:26silver quarters. She didn't drop the
45:28quarters through the slot. She put them
45:30right in Lany's hand. For the next one,
45:33Elsa said. Laney closed her fingers
45:35around them. 11 months later, the root
45:38seller door on Cutler Road was painted
45:40barn red again. It wasn't sealed
45:43anymore, but the brass mail slot was
45:45still there, still polished. The
45:47farmhouse had a new porch. Hollis built
45:50it with Laneany holding the boards and
45:53Juny handing him screws one at a time
45:55and counting them out loud by fives.
45:58Upstairs, two spare bedrooms had been
46:00cleaned out and painted. There was a
46:02little handlettered sign by the front
46:04door now. It didn't say shelter. It
46:07didn't say anything that would make a
46:08man in a pickup slow down. It just said
46:11the Apple House. Come in. Shoes by the
46:14door. Laney worked days at the pharmacy
46:16in Kellogg now. nights she kept the
46:19books, a real ledger locked in her
46:22mother's desk. Initials only. She'd
46:24learned the system from Ilsce at the
46:26kitchen table, the way her mother had
46:28learned it from Nell. Three women had
46:31stayed in those upstairs rooms already.
46:33One for a week, one for a month, one for
46:36just a single night with a baby and a
46:39bruise she wouldn't explain. Who left on
46:41the morning bus with a jar's worth of
46:43silver sewn into the lining of a blue
46:46duffel bag. Laney had written the label
46:48herself. PLB #42.
46:52On the last Sunday in September, she and
46:54Juny filled the seller shelves the old
46:56way. Applesauce from their own trees.
46:59Pear butter from Ilsa's recipe. Juny
47:02wrote the labels in crooked crayon.
47:04Tongue sticking out in concentration.
47:06Laney went to the top shelf with the
47:08last jar in her hands. A plain one. She
47:11dropped in the 1958 dime first, then a
47:14little of her own pay. every week all
47:17year. She said it in the clean ring in
47:19the dust at the end of the shelf where
47:21her mother's jar used to be. She'd made
47:23the label herself. #1 Juny looked up at
47:27it. Who's that one for? Somebody, Laney
47:31said. Somebody who doesn't know yet that
47:33she'll need it. Upstairs, Juny's pink
47:36sneakers sat by her bedroom door. Toes
47:38pointed out they'd been there all year.
47:41When Laney Puit took a drill to that
47:43sealed cellar, she thought she was
47:45breaking into the last thing her mother
47:46had left. A box of silence, a cold, hard
47:50door between them, screwed shut for
47:52good. She was wrong. Her mother hadn't
47:55sealed her out. She'd sealed everything
47:57in. Every quarter, every tip, every
48:01April drive, every silent supper she sat
48:04through so her daughter could stay
48:05hidden. She'd kept them all down in the
48:09cool, dark, waiting until it was safe to
48:11hand them over. Some love doesn't look
48:14like love from where we're standing.
48:16Some love looks like a bus ticket and a
48:18closed door. Some love never says a word
48:21because a word could get someone hurt.
48:23So maybe the person you think abandoned
48:25you didn't. Maybe the door you think was
48:28slammed in your face was a door someone
48:30was holding shut with their whole body
48:32so that what was on the other side
48:34couldn't reach you. And maybe the
48:36hardest winter of your life isn't the
48:38end of the story. Maybe somebody
48:41somewhere has already put a little by.
48:44Is there someone in your life whose
48:46silence you've never really understood?
48:48Maybe it's time to ask if Laney's story
48:51stayed with you. Give this video a like.
48:54Subscribe for more stories like this one
48:56and share it with someone who's going
48:58through a long winter of their own.
49:00Someone may have already been saving
49:02something for them. Put a little by.
49:04Winter always comes, but so does spring.

About this transcript

This page contains the full transcript of Abandoned at 22, She Opened Her Late Mother’s Sealed Root Cellar — Mom Had Hidden Something for Her by Soul Inside, generated from the public captions YouTube serves with the video. The transcript has 8,103 words across 1,131 segments, with the original timestamps preserved so you can click any line to jump to that moment in the embedded player.

What you can do with it

Use the transcript to take notes, quote the speaker, build a study guide, generate a summary with ChatGPT or Claude via the YouTube Summary tool, or export it as a timed subtitle file with YouTube to SRT. You can also re-open it in the transcriber to choose a caption track available on the video.

Free YouTube transcript tool

YouTube2Text is a free YouTube transcript generator — no signup, no daily limit. Paste any YouTube link and get the full transcript instantly, with timestamps, click-to-jump, caption language selection, AI prompts for ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini, and exports to TXT, SRT, VTT, or Markdown.