If These Trees Could Talk

by Brian W. Smith

  Elizabeth walked around to each group of students and issued them the paper. She walked over to Milton and gave him his paper. “And don’t move until you are finished. If you have a problem with anything in this assignment you ask me—don’t bother your classmates.” She turned around and looked at Josh, “Josh, come with me,” she ordered.

  Josh looked like he was taking that long walk towards the gas chamber. Elizabeth stood in the hallway just outside her classroom. “Yes, Mrs. Tharp,” said Josh, sheepishly.

  Elizabeth grabbed him by the wrist and moved away from the class entrance. “You know Josh, at some point you’re gonna have to stand up to Milton.”

  “He gonna beat me up.”

  “Yeah, he might. But I bet he’ll respect you afterwards.” She took her finger and removed some hair from his face. “But, that’s not why I asked you to come out here. I need to talk to you about your house.”

  “Huh?”

  “I need you to tell me if everything is okay at your house.”

  Josh didn’t answer. He looked down at the floor. Elizabeth usually coddled him when he normally did that, but she wasn’t in a coddling mood. She took her thumb and index finger, squeezed his chin, and titled his head upwards. “I’m not on the floor. I’m standing here in front of you. Look at me when I’m talking to you young man,” she commanded sternly.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Is everything okay at your house? Are you having problems with your mama or her boyfriend?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Josh replied, his eyes filled with water like two tiny pools.

  Finally. I’m close to getting to the bottom of this mess. Now I gotta apply the pressure until he cracks. “I knew it. You’re gonna tell me what’s going on or else I’m gonna take you in there and make you partner up with Milton. Is that what you want?”

  “No ma’am.”

  “Okay mister. If you don’t want to find yourself sitting next to Milton for the rest of the day and all next week, then I suggest you tell me what I want to know.”

  Josh looked up at her. There was a sense of relief on his face. Like a person preparing to remove his heaviest burden. “My mama…” Josh paused and looked around.

  “There is no one around. C’mon baby, tell me what’s going on.” Elizabeth’s tone transformed from stern to nurturing. Using her worse student to intimidate her favorite student hurt Elizabeth more than it hurt Josh. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And from Elizabeth’s perspective, if scaring Josh forced him to give a confession that could save his life, than the ends justified the means.

  “My mama’s boyfriend Dutch, is…”

  Elizabeth squatted down to hear what Josh had to say about Dutch, but before she could reach his eye level the unthinkable happened—the fire alarm sounded.

  “What the hell…” she mumbled.

  The doors of all the classes opened in unison. The teachers of those classes stepped in the hallway. Ms. Dupree, the other fifth grade teacher on staff walked up to Elizabeth. “Did you know we were having a fire drill today?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Elizabeth replied.

  Mr. Benjamin came marching up the hallway. He was holding a clip board in one hand and a stop watch in the other. “C’mon people, let’s go. Let’s get these kids out of here.”

  “Mr. Benjamin, I didn’t know we were having a fire drill today,” Elizabeth commented as he passed.

  “You didn’t know because I didn’t tell anyone Mrs. Tharp. That’s why they call it a drill. The idea is to surprise everyone so we can effectively test our response. Now, are you gonna get your class outside or do I have to do it for you?”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes as he walked further away. I hope you trip on your big ass feet. Walking like you got something stuck up your ass. “C’mon Josh, we gotta get out of here.” She walked over to her classroom. “Calm down. I said calm down. Form a line so we can walk outside.”

  Josh fell in line with the rest of his classmates. They all marched out of the building—following Elizabeth like a group of ducklings following their mother. There was only an hour left in the school day when the drill was concluded. By the time Elizabeth got her students back in class and settled down, she only had enough time left in the day to wrap up some paperwork.

  When the bell rang signaling the end of the day, Josh dashed for the door before Elizabeth could grab him again. Following close behind him was Milton, threatening to rip Josh’s arms from their sockets.

  Damn, I was so close to getting him to confess. Now, I have to wait until Monday. Elizabeth shook her head as she looked out her classroom window that overlooked the school’s front lawn. She could see the two boys as they ran past. “Run Josh,” she mumbled. “His big ass gon’ pass out if you can keep him running for another fifty feet.”

  Elizabeth drove home replaying her conversation with Josh over and over in her mind. What were you about to say to me Josh? Is he beating you? Is he sexually abusing you? Is she doing both? I wonder what that child was about to say to me.

  She pulled into her driveway and saw Curtis and her husband, Big Curtis, standing on the front porch laughing. A sight she hadn’t witnessed in years. Curtis and his father didn’t have the best relationship. Their rift started years earlier; the result of a teenage boy determined to make his own way in the world, and a father who was angry that his only child was disinterested in inheriting the family business.

  Curtis’ decision to join the military caused even more friction between him and his father. Big Curtis had been saving for his son’s college tuition since he and Elizabeth left the hospital with him. Big Curtis struggled to remain mad at his son after 9/11. It’s hard to be mad at a son who was performing arguably the most thankless job in the world—being a soldier. The first time Big Curtis saw his son looking lean and mean in his uniform, any anger that existed within him was swallowed and dissipated by an ocean of pride. Not to mention, time always has a way of healing wounds and soothing tension between even the most arrogant of men.

  “What y’all laughing at?” Elizabeth asked as she approached.

  “We were just talkin’ ‘bout you,” Big Curtis replied.

  “What about me?”

  “I just asked pops if you still drive with both feet,” Curtis commented, and then started laughing.

  Elizabeth walked up to Curtis, kissed him on the cheek, and then slapped him on his arm. “Stop making jokes about your mother. I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.” She then walked over to her husband, kissed him on the lips and then slapped him on the arm. “And you stop encouraging him.”

  They both laughed at her. Big Curtis even asked her if she wanted to join them in having a beer or two. Elizabeth waved her hands at his gesture dismissively. “I’m gonna go in here and get dinner ready.”

  “How much time do we have before dinner is ready mama?”

  “Give me about thirty minutes.”

  “Cool. I’m starving.”

  “You’re always starving,” she said, and walked inside.

  “Boy, I ain’t seen that woman smile this much in months. She’s been on cloud nine since you came home.” He turned up his beer and guzzled. After letting out a loud belch he pointed at the detached garage. “You wanna go see Baby Girl?”

  “Heck yeah!” Curtis replied. “I haven’t seen Baby Girl since I’ve been home.”

  They walked over to the garage and went inside. The place seemed smaller, but everything was still as he remembered. Big Curtis’ huge upright tool box was still in the corner. Shelves filled with old car parts. Boxes of clothes that had been sitting out there for a decade.

  “Everything is the same.”

  “What did you expect?” Big Curtis asked.

  Curtis looked around and smiled. “I don’t know.” His smile grew wider when he saw the tarp in the corner. He walked over and pulled the tarp back. “There she is,” Curtis blurted out, grinning as he stroked the seat of Baby Girl, th
e scooter he drove around town throughout his high school days. “Baby Girl took care of me back in the day.”

  Big Curtis laughed and took a swig of his beer. “Boy, you used to ride around here on that thing like it was a Harley Davidson.”

  “It was a Harley to me,” said Curtis, laughing. “I pulled plenty babes on this thing. “Have you been takin’ care of Baby Girl?”

  “Yeah, I keep the maintenance up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You gon’ take her around the block for old times sake?”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Curtis replied, and then drank the remainder of his beer and threw the empty bottle in the garbage can. “So pops, can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “It’s about mama. Is she alright?”

  “Man, you know how your mama is. She complains about being a teacher, but every year she’s the first one in the school when the new school year starts.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. I see she’s still bringing her work home with her?”

  “Your mama will be bringing her work home until she retires. She’s got a big heart. That’s part of her problem. It’s a little too big if you ask me. That’s why she’s always getting attached to those kids.”

  Curtis didn’t reply. He just looked at his scooter and listened to his father speak.

  “She dun got caught up worrying about some little white kid this school year.”

  “Yeah, Josh.”

  “Yeah, that’s him. You know your mama love all those kids the same way. She don’t care what race they are—she gon’ pour her heart into them. That’s what I mean when I say her heart is too big. She doesn’t know when to pull up.”

  “Tell me about it,” Curtis finally added. “Yesterday she brought me over to Josh’s house. I don’t think his mama was happy about our unannounced visit.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Are you tellin’ me your mama brought you to one of her student’s house?”

  “Yeah, she believes the little boy is being abused. I gotta tell you pops, at first I thought mama was trippin’, but after going over there with her, I think she might be on to something this time.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, when we pulled up…”

  “Y’all come on in here and get cleaned up!” Elizabeth yelled out.

  Curtis smiled. “The Queen has spoken. We better get in there before she comes out here with a switch. I’ll finish tellin’ you about our visit to that kid’s house after dinner.”

  “Okay,” Big Curtis said, and then walked over to his son. He placed his hand on Curtis’ shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home son.”

  “I’m glad to be home Pops.”

  They shared a hug, and walked back towards the house.

  Chapter 11

  Twenty four hours had passed since Charity learned of Dutch’s fate. She paced so much that she was developing blisters on the bottom of her feet. Josh had come home from school sweating like he’d just run a marathon so she made him go straight into the bathroom and take a bath. Little did she know, the reason he was sweating like he’d just completed a marathon was because Milton had chased him for nearly four blocks before eventually giving up. Even Josh was surprised by the stamina displayed by the overweight thug.

  While Josh changed into a pair of pajamas, Charity prepared to feed him some eggs and rice—the poor folk cuisine. “Josh, come get this food.” She gave him his food and a glass of fruit punch. “Make sure you bring the plate back in this kitchen. I don’t wanna have to come in there and find a plate covered with ants on your dresser.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Josh replied, and took his meal into his bedroom.

  Charity resumed her pacing. It wasn’t until she heard footsteps on her front porch that she even bothered to take her eyes off of the areas of the floor she walked on. The knock on the front door was loud. Rapid. Determined. The kind of knock that came from someone with an agenda. Undeniably the knock of a law enforcement officer.

  “Ms. Caldwell, are you in there?” asked Sheriff Duffy, the short rotund dictator that drove around the city in his unmarked police car looking like he owned everything in site. He looked like a cross between Carol O’Connor in the television show In the Heat of the Night, and Boss Hog from the original Dukes of Hazard sitcom.

  Charity had become more familiar with Sheriff Duffy’s knock and voice than she cared to admit. He’d graced her door seal on three other occasions during the previous year. His first visit came when she called the police after picking herself up off the floor. One of Dutch’s wild left hooks landed flush on her jaw and knocked her out cold. The other two times the Sheriff and his henchmen showed up at her door were to arrest Dutch for bar room fights he’d started and then conveniently left the scene.

  Charity put her finger over her mouth and demanded that Josh remain quiet. She wrestled with the idea of pretending to not be home, but decided otherwise when she saw an officer’s silhouette lurking around her front window.

  “I see her in there,” the officer said, and pointed.

  “C’mon and open the door Ms. Caldwell,” Sheriff Duffy insisted. “I know you’re in there. C’mon now…don’t make this difficult.”

  Charity discovered what heart palpitations felt like once it became obvious they knew she was inside. She thought about grabbing Josh and running out the back door when she saw the red and blue lights from the police cars lighting up the front of her house. It looked like disco lights from a night club. “Uh, uh I’m comin’,” she stuttered. “I just need to put on some clothes.”

  Truth of the matter was Charity was fully clothed; she was trying to stall while she eyeballed her house to make sure there was no blood stains anywhere.

  “C’mon now,” Sheriff Duffy shouted, his voice getting more agitated and deeper by the second.

  “I’m comin’ sheriff,” Charity replied, and then opened the door partially. “What you want sheriff?”

  “I want to be able to see your face when I talk to you,” he replied.

  Charity was in no rush to open the door. “How can I help you sheriff…it’s late.”

  The sheriff removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “I’m aware of the time Ms. Caldwell. We need to speak to you and your boy.”

  Charity could see the sheriff, but she didn’t see the other person standing beside him. She opened the door more to see the we he was referring to.

  “This here is Detective Cole from the Carter County Police Department.”

  Charity gave the detective a head nod. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

  “Can we come in and speak to you Mrs. Caldwell?” asked the tall clean shaved detective.

  Charity corrected the detective. “It’s Ms. Caldwell.” The presence of a detective let her know that they already had answers to most of their questions; they just needed her to provide enough information to fill in the holes. In her best bewildered look and voice she asked, “What’s this about?” A knot the size of a basketball was forming in her stomach.

  “I’d prefer to speak to you about this inside,” said the detective.

  “Yeah, we don’t want everybody all up in your business,” Sheriff Duffy added.

  Charity knew she had the only occupied house on the block so she had no idea who everybody was—until she looked past the sheriff and detectives shoulders and saw a news truck pull up. An eager reporter hopped out. If it hadn’t been for a uniformed deputy blocking his path, he would have surely been on her porch sticking his microphone between the officers trying to badger her into making a public statement.

  “What’s going on?” Charity asked again.

  “Ms. Caldwell, trust me, you don’t wanna do this out here,” said the sheriff.

  Charity reluctantly opened her door and let the sheriff and detective inside. Charity turned around and saw Josh standing in his bedroom doorway. She shooed him away like he was a pesky fly.

  “Is that your son?” asked Detective Col
e.

  “Yeah,” she replied as she grabbed a cigarette. Her hand was shaking like a leaf on a tree branch as she flicked her cigarette lighter several times. “I let y’all in, now what’s this about?”

  “Have you been watching the news Ms. Caldwell?” asked Sheriff Duffy; his belly protruding over his belt buckle.

  “No. I was just sitting here reading. I dozed off to sleep on the sofa.”

  “Well if you had you’d know that we found a body near here.”

  “Oh. Where?”

  Sheriff Duffy pointed. “Right beyond that tree line over there.”

  “Oh.” Charity was jumpy. Her palms were sweating so much she had to run the palm of her hand along the side of her jeans to dry it off.

  Detective Cole noticed it all. The nervous way she acted. The way she told her son to go into his bedroom. The fact that she said she was sitting on the sofa reading until she fell asleep, but there was no book or magazine on the sofa or coffee table.

  “Do you know Dennis “Dutch” Stone?” asked the detective.

  A loaded question if Charity ever heard one. The fact that they came to her house was proof that he already knew the answer to the question. Besides, she was sure the sheriff had already briefed the detective on her and Dutch’s past altercations.

  “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend,” she replied, struggling to make eye contact with the tall visitor.

  “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that Mr. Stone’s body was found in a shallow grave in the woods,” said the detective, his hands arms folded and his eyes focused on Charity. He was staring at her so hard she thought his gaze was going to burn a hole in her skin.

  “What?” Charity asked.

  “Mr. Stone is dead Ms. Caldwell. That’s why we’re here. We’d like to ask you a few questions about him.”