Gabriel slipped on the rubber waders and listened as Mister Earl showed him again how to put a chicken liver on the hook. Then he waded out slowly with Mister Earl, who was pushing forward very methodically. At knee-deep level, Gabriel could feel the easy current pushing his waders against the left side of his legs.
“Okay, that’s good,” Mister Earl said. “That’s far enough.”
It was a big deal that Gabriel was even in the water, but he felt okay so far.
“Before you cast, what you wanna do is look behind you to make sure no one is there, or any trees for that matter. Then bring your rod back nice and easy and toss the tip forward. Then release the line at the end.”
Mister Earl took Gabriel’s pole and cast the line out, then reeled it back in. “There. . . you try.”
He handed the rod to Gabriel and moved to give him room. Gabriel brought the rod back over his right shoulder and launched his arm forward. The rod and reel flew out of his hand and splashed in the river.
“Oh no!” Gabriel couldn’t believe what happened.
“Aw, geez,” Mister Earl exclaimed. He hustled after the rod and reel and snatched it before the river took it downstream.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” Gabriel said.
“I do. You let go of it! But at least it was a cork rod, so it floated.” Mister Earl was chuckling now.
It only took Gabriel a couple more tries before he got the hang of casting. On his fifth cast, he was watching as the bobber and bait floated downstream, and in an instant, the tip of his rod got bent over and yanked into the water.
“Pull up! Pull up!” Mister Earl yelled. “Crank him in hard. You got a giant on the line!”
Gabriel obeyed, even though it was difficult because the rod jerked violently. It took him several minutes, but he reeled the catfish in and Mister Earl grabbed it.
“That thing is every bit of twenty pounds!”
Gabriel jumped up and down, laughing. His hands and legs splashed about. He had never felt such joy.
“Wait until Mom sees this!”
“This right here is why it’s my favorite thing.” Mister Earl regarded the catfish with a smile as wide as Texas.
They fished another hour before packing up to head home. They were tired from the dawn departure and the adventures of the day. With his right elbow perched on the passenger door and his eyes squinting from the setting sunshine, Gabriel was considering the day.
“I didn’t know The River was like that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. The River wasn’t so scary. It was calm and stuff. I liked it. I wanna go again.”
“I think The River liked you too,” Mister Earl said with his hand resting on the wheel. “The River has a way, you know. It reminds me of what’s important. That’s why I like to go.”
“Well, The River gave us dinner,” Gabriel said with a precocious grin, looking over to Mister Earl.
“That it did, young man. That it did.”
Warm air rushed through the open passenger window, and the sound of the rumbling engine and the tires against the road were all Gabriel needed to lean his head back and drift off to sleep for the rest of the way home.
It had been a good day.
SIX
The New Teacher
STARTING A NEW SCHOOL YEAR WAS NEVER ONE OF Gabriel’s favorite things. The first school day on the Tuesday after Labor Day meant meeting new kids who might not be nice, getting used to a new teacher who might be too strict, and studying every night, which was just plain hard work for him.
Sixth grade, Gabriel decided on the first day of school, would be pure evil. He’d rather do anything else than listen to a boring teacher or those stuck-up girls who played “teacher’s pet” in the classroom but were so mean on the school yard.
Last year Gabriel had to sit next to Thelma Lou Nichols. She wore round spectacles thick as magnifying glasses, scratched the back of her head constantly, and smelled like a giant mothball. She never stopped talking and commenting about everything. And she was the worst tetherball player in the class.
Gabriel loved playing tetherball and kickball at recess, and the start of his sixth-grade year was no different. But two weeks in, something unexpected happened that would affect Gabriel forever.
It was a Monday morning, and all fourteen students scrambled to their seats as the school bell rang. His teacher, Mrs. Jewel, always made her students write extra sentences if they were late for school.
J.J. Hopper sauntered in after the bell as if he owned the place. “You’re gonna get sentences, J.J.,” Naomi Ledbetter said smugly from her front-row chair.
But Mrs. Jewel was nowhere to be seen, which almost never happened. She had been teaching elementary school for over forty-five years. At the age of seventy-four, she still had a lot of energy. She didn’t put up with much guff from the boys, but she could be funny on occasion. At five feet, four inches, Mrs. Jewel had rosy cheeks and grayish-white hair pulled up in a stacked bun atop her head. She wore handmade farm dresses, and in the fall and spring months, she put a flower from her garden in her hair. She never wore makeup and always smelled like baby powder and cinnamon rolls.
Gabriel’s classmates, who started chattering about the exploits of the weekend, quickly got quiet when Mr. Van Buren, the school principal, walked into the classroom. Gabriel saw him only at school assemblies or if he was in serious trouble.
“Good morning, class,” he began. “I have some bad news. I got a call over the weekend from Mrs. Jewel’s husband, who told me she has fallen ill and will not be able to continue teaching, at least for the time being. She’ll be okay, but she needs to work on getting better. The doctor has ordered complete bed rest, so it seems she will be out for a while.”
Mr. Van Buren held up a large piece of folded construction paper in his right hand.
“She wrote all of you a card that I will leave up here on the desk for you to read at the appropriate time.”
The kids sat quietly, stunned by the news.
“Now I’d like to introduce you to your substitute teacher. I expect you to give her the same respect you gave Mrs. Jewel.”
On cue, a figure walked into the classroom quietly.
“Ah. . . here she is. Class, I’d like you to meet Miss Lily Collingsworth.” He motioned to her with his right hand. “Well, don’t just sit there, say hello!”
“Hello, Miss Collingsworth,” the class muttered in broken unison.
“Hello, everyone,” she said softly with an inviting smile. Gabriel and his classmates couldn’t take their eyes off of her. She didn’t look like anyone else in Cairo.
Miss Collingsworth was tall and thin with a rich mocha skin coloring and a flawless complexion. Her hair was jet black, long and shiny—pouring down her head to the small of her back like a dark waterfall. Her eyes were black as coal, full of mystery and warmth at the same time.
She began to walk up and down the rows of desks, taking her time to ask each student his or her name. They all turned in their seats and followed her every move.
She returned to the front of the classroom. “I’m so excited to be teaching you this year,” she said. “We’re going to learn so much together.”
She looked around and made eye contact with several students, including Gabriel. “Learning is about exploration and fun. Learning is at the base of everything in life. No matter how old you are, you never stop learning. Every time you learn something new, it’s like discovering a treasure.”
She rested her hand on a globe standing at the side of her desk. “We’re going to learn about other parts of our world, explore the way other people live and their history, and go on field trips. You’ll also hear me tell stories—I love good stories.”
Miss Collingsworth spoke so passionately that even J.J. was listening. She continued talking as she walked among the seated students. When she passed by Gabriel, who sat third from the back on the right-hand side of the room, she moved the air as she g
lided by. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice that she smelled like fresh mint.
She clapped her hands. “I have an idea. Let’s all get up and push our chairs to the outside of the room.”
The students didn’t make a move.
“Come on, it’s okay. It will be fun.”
Slowly, one by one, the students started to slide their desks to the perimeter of the room—although J.J. used the opportunity to play bumper cars.
“Okay, settle down, guys. Let’s sit in a circle.”
She hunched on her knees and sat down on the floor, which the students did as well. Gabriel made sure he was directly across from her so she could see him.
J.J. piped up. “We are not going to have to sing, are we?”
Miss Collingsworth laughed. “You don’t sing, J.J.? Aw, come on. I bet you have a pretty voice.” All the boys laughed, and the girls giggled.
“J.J.’s got a pretty voice! J.J.’s got a pretty voice!” teased one boy.
“Shut up!” J.J. said, making a fist.
Miss Collingsworth quickly redirected them. “Okay, everyone. I’ve heard your names, but I need to learn them. Why don’t we go around the room and you say your name again and. . . tell us what your favorite food is. I’ll start. I’m Lily Collingsworth, and my favorite food is definitely chocolate.”
The kids went around the circle and one at a time recited their names. Most of the favorite foods were some kind of candy or ice cream flavor. Gabriel got a little nervous when it was his turn. He was having a hard time deciding what his favorite food was.
“Well, uh, it’s either Miss Vonda’s biscuits or Cappy’s corn dogs at the All County Farmer’s Market.”
J.J. piped up. “Hear, hear! Picking a favorite is too hard for me. All food is your friend!” He reached over and patted Gabriel on the back so hard that others could hear the thump, and then he grabbed his soft belly with both hands and wiggled it back and forth. Everyone broke into laughter.
After they made their way around the room, Miss Collingsworth took over again.
“I want you all to know that I’m looking forward to getting to know each and every one of you. We’ll have a great year. Now, do you have any questions for me?”
Several hands shot up in the air.
“Are we going to have lots of homework?”
“Can we have extra-long recess on Fridays?”
“How many books are we going to have to read?”
Naomi Ledbetter, the prissy blond-haired, blue-eyed girl with nothing ever out of place, spoke up and shocked everyone with her question.
“Why are you so dark-skinned?”
The class froze and waited for the teacher’s response. Miss Collingsworth raised her eyebrows and didn’t miss a beat.
“I’m glad you asked, Naomi. Just like you, I’m unique. No two people on the planet are exactly alike—there never has been or ever will be another person created exactly like you. You are one of a kind. . . and so am I. Everyone is unique and made for a specific purpose. I’m thankful for my brown skin because it reminds me of my history, where I come from. I’m a descendant of the Cherokee Indian people.”
The children were dead silent and spellbound by her words. Their new teacher stood up and approached the blackboard, where she wrote in big letters: AYKWAAYKWANEE.
“Can anyone pronounce this?” She pointed to the board with her long, elegant fingers. All of the children tried to sound out the letters simultaneously.
“Okay, okay, not too bad,” she said with a smile. “It’s actually not too hard to say. Everyone say ‘ay.’”
“Ay,” they all repeated.
“Now ‘kwah.’”
“Kwah!” they said in a louder voice.
“Now say it together, ‘Ay-kwah.’”
“Ay-kwah,” they repeated.
“Good! Now just add ‘knee,’ like the knee of your leg.”
After a “knee” chorus, she said, “Now say ‘Ay-kwahknee’. . . Good. . . Now ‘Ay-kwah ay-kwah-knee.’ Got it?”
The students repeated the phrase several times together until they were able to say it correctly.
“You have to say it with rhythm,” Miss Collingsworth said. “The Cherokee language is rhythmic and has motion to it. It’s the rhythm of the earth.”
“What does it mean?” Naomi asked.
“Aykwa-Aykwanee is my Cherokee name. It means Great River.”
Gabriel was transfixed by the new teacher. His mouth hung open as he watched her speak. He thought about how much he liked the sound of her voice and how she was so kind. Miss Collingsworth wasn’t like anyone he had ever known. And now he would get to spend the whole school year with her.
Gabriel was startled out of his reverie when Miss Collingsworth directed a question to him. “Gabriel, have you ever seen a beautiful river?”
He had trouble mustering a response, so Miss Collingsworth continued her talk. “I grew up in a small town in the beautiful mountains of North Carolina,” she said. “Has anyone ever been to North Carolina?”
Several hands shot up in the room. Miss Collingsworth called on Dickie Colter, Gabriel’s nemesis.
“Gabriel is scared of the pond. He’s scared of everything,” he said. “He probably wouldn’t even get near a river!”
Gabriel looked down at his desk.
Jimmy glared at Dickie. “You better shut up or I’ll give you something to be scared of!”
Miss Collingsworth came to his defense as well. “I think we all have some fears we have to deal with. Let’s focus on saying kind things, okay?”
Gabriel was thankful, and he relaxed in his chair as Miss Collingsworth picked up where she had left off.
“We lived near a beautiful river in North Carolina called the Nantahala. The Nantahala is a strong and powerful river with thunderous and powerful sections where the water crashes down through the mountains and creates beautiful whitewater foam. The Nantahala also has tranquil and serene sections. There are places where the river is so calm that it acts like a perfect mirror to reflect the mountains and trees around it.
“I love the river so much. My grandfather used to take our family to a special place on the river to make a fire, sing songs, and enjoy a cookout. We always sat next to a beautiful waterfall. One day I was there along with my three brothers, my mother, and my grandfather. I was only four years old at the time. We were sitting around the campfire, and my grandfather began to speak. He didn’t talk very much, so when he spoke, we listened. He said, ‘The River brings life to everything in the canyon. The waters of this Great River washed over Aykwa-Aykwanee and gave her beautiful skin—the color of the earth.’ He pointed to me that night and said, ‘You bring us life and love, Little River. Full of thunder and full of beauty.’ Everyone laughed because I was so small, but I had a strong will.” She raised her fists as if to flex her arms.
The children sat captivated by her story. Gabriel was in awe of every word. If angels were real, she just might be one. An American Indian angel, sent to Cairo Elementary just for him.
“Where was your father?” The intuitive question came from Stephen J. Fremont. A normally quiet kid, Gabriel knew him to be a genuinely curious person.
“He couldn’t be there that day because he was no longer with us,” she said as her countenance dropped.
“Where was he?” Stephen asked.
“He went to the great sky—what we call heaven. Yes, he died. I still miss him very much.”
Gabriel connected to her grief in a profound way. She, too, had lost her father. Maybe she understood how he felt. Maybe she had the bad dreams too.
After a wonderful day getting to know his new teacher, the obnoxious school bell rang, signifying their freedom. Like ants under a magnifying glass, the students scrambled out of the classroom, except for one. Gabriel took his time gathering his things before approaching her desk.
Miss Collingsworth looked up from the sheet of paper she was reading. “Do you need help with anything?”
G
abriel stood there awkwardly, then his words gushed out. “Do you think I could show you my marble collection sometime? I have hundreds of them. I could show you how to play marbles. I’m really good. I’ve also gone fishing with Mister Earl at The River. It’s his favorite thing to do.”
Gabriel didn’t come up for air because he was excited to talk to Miss Collingsworth.
“That would be nice, Gabriel.” She set her folder down. “Which do you like better, marbles or fishing?”
Gabriel thought for a minute. “Well, I’ve been fishing only once, but I loved it. But I also love marbles because my dad loved marbles, and we played them when we were together.”
“The great thing is that you can love doing both things.” Miss Collingsworth smiled. “I’d love to see your marble collection sometime. And try not to let what Dickie said get to you. Kids who lash out like that are probably sad or hurt for some reason, so they take it out on other kids.”
“Thanks, Miss Collingsworth. Bye.” Gabriel started toward the door.
“See you tomorrow, Gabriel.”
Gabriel paused at the door.
“Yes?”
“My dad died too. He grew up near The River. He loved it. I’ll tell you about him sometime.”
“I would like that very much.”
Gabriel turned and walked out, thankful for a new friend in Miss Collingsworth.
SEVEN
A Visitor Comes to the Farm
1963
ON A BITTERLY COLD SATURDAY MORNING IN THE last week of February, four inches of snow still covered the ground from a storm that had passed through Kansas a week earlier. The farm was covered in a beautiful white blanket—crisp and quiet—as far as the eye could see. A deer in the field gingerly poked its hooves through the frozen layers, looking for something to munch on.
“Move, Fi Fi! Get out of my way, or I’m going to make you dinner.”
Gabriel scolded the hen—repeating what he’d heard Mister Earl say from time to time—as he cleaned the coop. Like with the pigs, naming the animals was a form of entertainment while performing otherwise monotonous chores. Mister Earl used to say, “That big fat hen looks like she thinks she is better than all the others.” The name Fi Fi seemed to fit.
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