She did a real good Reverend Love imitation.
“I told him you were at the nest and that Marlow was after the swans. He hollered, ‘Show me where she is,’ and before I could say another word, we heard you yelling. Preach took off running, hellbent for leather.”
I leaned back on the pillows. “You saved my life.”
Faith met my eyes, then looked down. She plucked at stray threads of the crocheted afghan at my feet. “Well, maybe you saved mine, too.”
I changed the subject before we got all sappy.
“I feel bad about Marlow.”
“Yeah, me too. Marlow was just doing what he’d been taught to do. It’s a hunting dog’s job to flush out birds—pheasants and such. Jason said Marlow had never had a bird fight back at him like that. Marlow’s instincts kicked in, and he did what came naturally. Preach told me that Jason didn’t have much choice though, once Marlow had injured Penny. Marlow was trained to sit when he heard a gunshot. But when Jason fired his gun to get Marlow’s attention, Marlow just kept at those birds. He might have done in the rest of the swans, if Jason hadn’t stopped him. Bean said the sheriff would have had to put the dog down in any case, for killing a swan. It’s the law. Jason knew Marlow didn’t have a chance either way. He figured he’d rather be the one to do it.”
Faith and I were silent for a moment. “Bean said they could bury Marlow there. They made a nice spot for him,” she said.
“Bean?”
“Oh, where you were trespassing? That’s Bean’s land.”
I coughed. “What?”
“Yeah, that’s his land. Been in his family forever. The sheriff made him fix the fence, after what happened.”
“What about the swans? How are they doing?”
“I went out there with Evangeline. Bean and them buried Penny. Poor Mr. Cobb just stayed put on the other side of the pond, watching. I think he’s a little lost without her, but the babies seemed okay. Evangeline said not to worry, the mama taught them well, and they’ll do just fine. Soon as you get well, we’ll go see them. Bean said it would be all right.”
Aunt Bernie came in. “Faith, you go on and let Dulcie sleep.”
Faith hopped off the bed. “Sure thing, Miss Bernie. I gotta get back anyway. I promised I’d help Mary give Charity a bath this afternoon.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a good big sister to her.”
Faith smiled her lopsided smile. “Yeah, I’m going to try to be.”
Aunt Bernie stopped Faith at the door of my room. “It’s an important job, you know.” Faith nodded solemnly, then escaped down the stairs.
• • •
After a couple of days, Aunt Bernie let me go to the couch in the living room to watch TV, and she allowed me to have more visitors. People stopped by in a steady stream.
Everybody brought food until the kitchen was overflowing with casseroles, Jell-O molds, cookies, and brownies. One thing they know how to do in Shepherdsville is eat, Mama.
Even the Swinsons brought something over.
A pie.
Aunt Bernie held it up after they left and said, “What do you think?”
I shook my head and hooted, “No way.”
She dumped it into the trash. “Agreed.”
• • •
Reverend Love came to see me. I told him I was mighty sorry to have botched the whole baptism thing. He said he figured I’d already been baptized in a fashion and not to worry about that.
“I am sure you’ve heard it before, but I’ll say it anyway. The Lord . . .”
I finished it for him, “Works in mysterious ways.”
He took something out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a small book.
“I thought you might like this. It’s my favorite.”
I read the cover. “William Blake.”
I opened a page and read the words aloud: “ ‘I heard an Angel singing / When the day was springing . . .’ ”
Reverend Love, speaking softly, finished it, “ ‘Mercy, Pity, Peace / Is the world’s release.’ ”
I thanked him for the book and asked after the Youth Bible Study Group.
“We’ve disbanded for the rest of the summer, due to lack of interest. In any case, it’s almost harvest time, and school’s coming up. Next summer Evangeline is fixing to lead a youth choir instead, so I’ll have more time with Charity. Maybe you’ll consider joining them.”
I laughed and told him, “Reverend Love, I do have my voice back, but when Evangeline hears me sing, I’m sure she’ll put me in charge of organizing sheet music or something.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.”
“You’re in good company, then, ’cause I can’t sing a lick myself.”
• • •
Evangeline brought me a small box, a sewing kit of my very own, with everything I’d need to learn to embroider. She set me up with a simple design—a forget-me-not—and sat with me while I finished it, teaching me the knots. We didn’t talk much.
That’s one of the things I love about Evangeline. Words aren’t needed.
When she got up to leave, I grabbed her hand.
“Evangeline, thanks for teaching me . . .” I didn’t mean the sewing and embroidery, Mama, but for showing me what having a voice really means.
Evangeline didn’t say anything, just squeezed my hand.
• • •
And, Mama, you’ll never guess who else came over.
Jason Burdine.
His mother brought over a casserole to Aunt Bernie and pushed Jason in my direction. He leaned against the archway in the living room, shy and red-faced, his hair falling over his eyes.
“Glad you’re feeling better.”
Jason and I were probably the least likely of people to be friends, but something had shifted, and in that shift we’d become, not friends exactly, but less apt to fuss. I appreciated his showing up, anyway.
“I’m really sorry about Marlow,” I said. “He was a good dog.”
Jason looked at the rug. “Yeah, he was. He didn’t mean to cause no harm. It’s just what he was trained for, to roust out birds. When the swan went at him, Marlow just fought back.” Then Jason said, real quietly, “I had to stop him from going after them swans. He didn’t know no better.”
“I know,” I said.
I told him I was real sorry for all the trouble I’d caused him with Reverend Love.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was a real jerk before, teasing and all that. I don’t blame you, for sticking it to me.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Well, thanks for stopping to see me . . .”
“Hey,” he said suddenly. “Want to see my new dog?”
I followed him out to their truck, Aunt Bernie calling after me to take it easy the whole way. Jason brought out a chocolate-brown pup, all long legs and tongue.
“I call him McCartney.”
“McCartney?” I laughed. “Funny name for a dog.”
“Faith told me that the swan Marlow killed, you’d named her Penny Lane, like the Beatles song? Well, Paul McCartney wrote that song. So I thought my new dog’s name should be . . .”
“McCartney.”
“My dad brought him by when he heard about Marlow. My mom won’t let my dad back into the house, for now. I guess giving me the dog is his way of trying to make up for . . . well . . . anyway.”
I could tell from Jason’s face, Mama, that a new dog wasn’t going to make up for a darn thing that Jason had gone through. But I thought it was pretty brave of him to try to move on, in spite of it.
Jason and I played with McCartney in the grass for a little while, until Aunt Bernie called me back in, all in a dither about me being on my feet too long. Jason asked the funniest thing before I went inside. “I was thinking of asking Faith to go to the movies sometime. Do you think she’d go?”
I smiled, his being sweet on her tickling me something crazy. “Yeah, I think she might.”
He blew out a puff of air, relief in it. “Cool.”
• • •
Ray showed up too, Mama.
We sat on the back porch, him in a busted-out wicker chair and me on the old swing. The crops in the fields towered around us, a sea of green swaying as far as we could see. Ray clearly had something on his mind but had trouble getting started. He stuck his boot out in front of him and twirled one ankle, then the other. Years of trucking left him doing the oddest things to unglue his muscles.
Ray swung his chair around to me, his eyes clear, the crevices in his cheeks deep architecture carved and designed for his face alone. He studied his boot tips, rubbing his face. Then he spoke, his voice cracking. “If something ever happened to you . . . well, I wouldn’t be worth a fig ever after. You aren’t my blood, but I care for you as if you were my own. Your mama meant the world, but now that she’s gone, I want to do my best by you. That’s why I brought you here in the first place.”
I gripped the chain of the porch swing.
“I know, Ray.”
He coughed, a small terse noise from his throat. “I promised your mama if anything . . . I’d watch out for you. I don’t know if I’m doing such a good job.”
“It was good you brought me here, Ray.”
I meant it, Mama.
“Anyhow, I talked to Bernice about you coming back with me at the end of the summer. Trixie’s been after me to get a place, so . . . She’s fixed it up real nice. You’d have a bedroom to yourself.”
I felt like I was at the top of the roller coaster, waiting to swoop down to earth, fast. Ray was offering me the very thing I’d wanted all along. He continued talking while I held on tight. “I got a new job at the truck plant come September. I won’t make as much money, but I’ll be around more.” He picked at one of his nails. “You think about it, is all. Okay?”
Now that Ray was offering to take me back, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go. I didn’t want to leave Aunt Bernie and Faith and Evangeline. They were my family too now.
“Just so you know, you always have a place. You can always come here for summers and holidays with Bernice.”
I took a big breath.
“Ray, you’ve been like a daddy to me, and I don’t want you to ever think I don’t know it.”
His John Deere hat shaded his eyes, leaving me in the dark as to what was in them.
“I promise to think hard about it.”
“Okay, then.” He got up and shuffled back and forth. Ray never could sit for long, could he, Mama?
“It’s good to hear you talking again. Maybe one day you’ll even lecture me a little bit, like you used to.”
“You mean about you not smoking cigarettes and drinking beer, and about you eating something more than potato chips? You bet I will, Ray.”
“Good.” For the first time in a long time, he smiled, or what for Ray passed as smiling.
I sat up, determined to get at what was bugging me the most, Mama.
“Ray, Mama wasn’t baking cookies that day, was she?”
His cheeks flushed red. All the things Ray had said before . . . I could see on his face that they were things he’d said to protect me, and that he still wanted to, badly.
He struggled for a moment, but then looked me right in the eye and told me what I already knew in my heart.
“No, honey, she wasn’t.”
We contemplated each other. All the things we needed to say couldn’t have really been said anyway. Some things are best left that way. Unsaid, but understood.
Not wanting Ray to feel bad about his story, the first thing that popped into my head came out of my mouth. “Well, shoot, I don’t like cookies much anyway.”
Ray blinked hard, startled a bit. His mouth opened to say something. Then closed.
He snorted.
I snorted.
He said, “Me neither.”
I swear, Mama, we laughed up a storm until tears rained.
34
h-e-a-v-e-n
heaven (n.)
the space surrounding or seeming to overarch the earth, in which the sun, moon, and stars appear; the dwelling place of God and his angels where the blessed live after death; any place of great beauty; a state of happiness
The next morning, after Ray’s visit, there was an envelope waiting for me beside my plate of eggs, with “Briarwood Academy” in the top left corner. Aunt Bernie bustled around the kitchen, making a racket with pot and pan reorganization. “Ray left that for you.”
“Why didn’t he just give it to me himself?”
She sat down. “He wasn’t sure you should have it. He gave me the choice whether or not to give it to you. In case you were accepted, he didn’t want to interfere with what I might decide to do about it. Said it wasn’t his place. If you didn’t get the scholarship spot, he said he couldn’t bear to see you disappointed.”
“But why did you give it to me?”
“Because it’s addressed to you.” She got up and continued with her task.
I looked at that envelope, Mama, hoping I could see into it with X-ray eyes. I didn’t want Aunt Bernie to watch me open it. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to open it at all.
So I left it there right on the table. For three whole days.
I helped Aunt Bernie in the garden, helped her clean the bathrooms, and assisted making a tuna casserole for Mrs. Myers from church, who’d been laid up with some ailment or other. Faith came over. We took a blanket outside, sat in the sun, and listened to the radio while Aunt Bernie vacuumed.
The envelope sat there on the table, looming larger and larger, until it seemed to take up the whole world. I could practically hear it shout OPEN ME! even while I slept.
• • •
When Aunt Bernie gave me the go-ahead, and said I was well enough to ride Maybelle, I stuffed the envelope into my bag and headed out to town.
I rode to the gas station. Bean looked up and smiled his crooked-tooth grin when I came inside. “Well, look who’s come to see old Bean.” He came round the counter and gave me a good hard one-armed hug. “Glad to see you up and around.” He put his hand on the top of my head. “You gave us a scare, kid.”
“Bean,” I began, nervous. I hoped he wasn’t mad about me crossing over that fence.
“Why so serious, now?”
“I’m sorry I was trespassing, I really am. It’s just so beautiful there, and the swans became like friends to me.”
“Well, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather have trespassing.”
“I was wondering if it’s okay if I still check on the swans. They’re used to me coming, and I promise I won’t go near the water again.”
“If it’s okay with Bernie, I’d have to say it’s okay with me. I knew your mama my whole life. Heck, you’re practically family.”
Then I explained what I had in mind for you, Mama. He said he’d be pleased, and we shook on it.
I went out to my bike, but then stopped, Bean’s words circling in my head, “Heck, you’re practically family.” I hurried back inside before I thought twice about it.
“My goodness, girl, you got something else on your mind?”
“Bean, are you my daddy?”
Squinting hard, he surveyed me as if I’d lost my fool mind. Finally he leaned back in his chair and hooted at the ceiling.
“By God, you’re serious. No, honey. I’m not your daddy. Your mama was too special for the likes of me. But I’ll tell you what, I’d be mighty proud if I were.”
• • •
I rode out to the swan’s nest, a little disappointed about Bean not being the winner of the contest. He said he always figured it was this particular visiting college boy from Ohio State, the cousin of somebody or other, who’d worked at the feed store the summer Bean left for Vietnam.
“But if I hadn’t been trudging through muck, carrying a rifle,” he said, “your mama would never have had to leave Shepherdsville.” Old Bean sounded as if he had been sweet on you too, Mama.
Then he sent me o
n my way. “Go on, now. Surely you got something better to do than jaw with me.”
• • •
Bean had cleared a path to the pond. The weeds and long grasses had been mowed down to the ground. Mr. Cobb, who’d lost some feathers in the fight with Marlow, swam slowly, circling the cygnets, a bit wary of me. His neck was low, curled tight into himself. He finally settled on the bank, near the babies, their yellow-and-gray down having given way to more adult plumage.
Evangeline had said that swans mate for life and I should expect Mr. Cobb to mourn Penny, just like a human would. He might never take another partner to replace her. Some of Penny’s white feathers lay scattered in the area by the nest. A few caught in the breeze and floated nearby. I plucked one from the ground and ran it across my cheek, letting its softness linger there. I tucked it into my bag, and my hands brushed against the envelope from Briarwood.
I crawled onto the tree limb. I closed my eyes and waited a bit. When I couldn’t bear it any longer, I tore open the envelope and slowly pulled out the single sheet of paper. I unfolded it, holding my breath.
We are pleased to inform you that your application to Briarwood Academy has been accepted for the school year 1977–78 . . .
I clamped my hand over my mouth, but a squeal escaped anyway, agitating Mr. Cobb, who spread his wings in protest. “Sorry,” I apologized. “Sorry.”
But I couldn’t help myself. I hollered out, “We did it, Mama!”
I hope you heard me.
• • •
Aunt Bernie didn’t say anything about the envelope being missing. During supper she didn’t mention it, or while we washed the dishes. Later she sat in front of the television watching the news, crocheting squares. I took a spot on the couch next to her.
Walter Cronkite was talking about the space shuttle Enterprise that flew for four whole minutes out in California. The film reel showed the shuttle riding on the back of an airliner, with two smaller air force jets flying alongside. There was something in their formation through the clouds that reminded me of the swans flying into the heavens. I thought of what Bean had said about that astronaut flying to heaven and saying he didn’t see God up there. Maybe he didn’t fly high enough, Mama.
Rising Above Shepherdsville Page 18