Give Me Wings

by Joy Redmond

  Daddy tried to reply, but Mama cut him off. “I’ll tell you something else right now, Teddy Randall. You’re not going slap me in the face anymore with your womanizing. I’m through! Do you hear me? Through!”

  Daddy held up his hand as if he were taking an oath, as he said, “Rachel, I didn’t wanna bring her. I tried to slip off and come here by myself, but she jumped in the car and refused to get out. I couldn’t kick her and the baby out on the street, so when I got to Bon Harbor, I took her by Mama’s so I could come out here alone, but Mama just called her a stinkinꞌ whore and threw her out of the house. I didn’t have no other place to leave ꞌem.”

  Carnikko peeked around the corner just as Daddy slumped into a chair, looking like a broken-down old mule who was too tired to keep on plowing.

  Mama squared her shoulders, her hands still on her hips, and then did something Carnikko hadn’t expected—she smiled. In a calm tone, she said, “You say don’t start nothing? Well, you’re going to get your wish. I’m not starting anything. In fact, I’m ending something—right now! You get your sorry butt out of my house, pack up your harlot and bastard child, and don’t you ever darken my door again. You hear me?”

  As Daddy stood, Mama laughed sarcastically and said, “At least now I know why you never sent us much money. It’s kind of hard having to support two families, isn’t it?”

  Carnikko had seen and heard all she could stand. She ran across the room and fell across Don and Lee’s bed. Although she had said she’d hate Daddy till doomsday, she had never expected anything like this!

  A wild jumble of emotions ran through her mind as she buried her face in a pillow and cried, “Give me wings! Give me wings.” She waited for what seemed like an eternity, but Purple Angel didn’t appear, nor did her wings sprout. She chanted again, but Purple Angel still didn’t appear.

  Carnikko then eased off the bed, tiptoed back to the kitchen door, and peered in, afraid of what she might see. What she saw was Daddy standing in the middle of the room, his shoulders slumped as if he’d just taken a beating with a whip.

  “Okay, Rachel, I’ll go,” he finally said, “And I promise I won’t bother ya no more.” Then he added, “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”

  Mama just sniffed, shook her head, and said derisively, “You certainly are. Now get out of here and don’t come back!”

  Carnikko hurried back to the bed and threw her body across it again.

  Daddy slowly walked into the middle room. When he saw Carnikko on the bed, he walked toward her. When he sat on the edge of the bed, Carnikko looked up at him and asked, “Daddy, who’s that woman?”

  “Her name’s Ellie,” Daddy said softly, his eyes full of sadness. “I—eh—live with ꞌer, and the baby is yer little sister.”

  “How can she be my sister?” Carnikko argued. “Mama didn’t have no new baby.”

  “Well,” Daddy said, looking at his daughter, “she’s like yer half-sister.”

  “She ain’t half of nothin', Daddy,” Carnikko said firmly. “She’s all there. I know ꞌcause I seen her with my own eyes.”

  “Look, Punkin, maybe yer mama can explain it to ya later. Anyway, I gotta go,” Daddy said, his voice breaking.

  Although none of what was happening made any sense, Carnikko looked into Daddy’s sad eyes and pleaded, “Daddy, please take that woman to Canoe Cove, put her on a Greyhound bus, and send her away. We can keep the baby, but we can’t have that woman around here.”

  Daddy shook his head slightly and said, “Oh, Punkin, I wish it was that easy, but I can’t do it. I hafta go, and I hafta take Ellie and the baby with me.”

  Carnikko looked down, picked at her dress, and asked, “What’s the baby’s name?”

  “Emily,” Daddy softly replied.

  “Do you call her Punkin, too?” Carnikko asked flatly.

  Daddy hugged Carnikko tightly and said, “No, I don’t, and I never will. You’ll always be my one and only Punkin. I promise.”

  “How old is she?” Carnikko asked.

  “She’s almost five months old.”

  “Was she in Ellie’s belly when you come home for Christmas?”

  Daddy thought a moment, then said, “Yeah, I guess she was.” He sighed, then stood and added, “Well, I hafta go now, Punkin. Please don’t cry—it’ll break yer daddy’s heart.”

  Carnikko sucked up every ounce of courage and held back the tears that were threatening to drown her. “I won’t cry, Daddy. Just hug me bye.”

  Daddy bent down and hugged Carnikko closely for a long moment, then walked away without looking back.

  Carnikko tiptoed to the doorway and watched as Daddy stopped in the front room. He sat on the bed, lifted Evan into his arms, and pushed back the blond, sweaty hair, then whispered, “I love ya, my sweet lil’ boy.” He kissed the damp forehead of his baby and gently placed the tiny head against the pillow. “Until we meet again, Son,” he said as if he were saying his final goodbye.

  As Daddy stood and walked out of the house, Carnikko wondered if she’d ever see him again. She also wondered how she’d be able to live without him. She ran to the front door.

  Before Daddy stepped off the front porch, Don and Lee hurried to the side of the house to get a peek at the woman Mama called a harlot and the baby she called a bastard child, while they were under the house, playing in dirt.

  Daddy motioned to Ellie with his left hand and walked down the front steps. Ellie followed him to the car, got in, and then they drove away. Carnikko watched from the front porch until the dust disappeared, then went to find Mama, wondering if she should talk to her or just let her be for the moment.

  She found Mama sitting at the kitchen table, her hands folded in front of her face, praying, “Please deliver me from this life of misery, Lord.” Then she stood, walked over to the washstand, peered out the window, and said, “This twenty-eighth day of August 1950, is the last time I’ll ever see the face of James Theodore Randall.” She wiped her eyes. “Cheap trash,” she mumbled, then added, “poor little baby. It’s not her fault.”

  Carnikko turned and again ran to Don and Lee’s bed, buried her head in a pillow, closed her eyes, and pleaded, “Come on, Purple Angel. I need ya—now!”

  Finally, Purple Angel fluttered across her eyeballs. “Give me wings,” Carnikko begged.

  The wings instantly popped out and Carnikko began to flap them harder than ever before. She soared through the blue sky, and when she landed in her special place, she began to eat fruit and candy from the trees. She plucked a red satin dress from the dress tree. She slipped on a pair of red high-heeled shoes that she plucked from the shoe tree. She hugged Mama and Daddy as they dropped down from the Mama and Daddy tree. She cuddled with the baby lamb and stroked the soft mane of the lion. Finally, she swung on the tail of the brontosaurus as it swished it back and forth.

  “Everything is perfect,” Carnikko whispered, breathing a long sigh.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As the weeks passed, Carnikko noticed that Mama wasn’t crying as much and actually began to joke and make fun of Ellie, saying things like, “That woman was painted up like a dime store floozy. Your daddy’s type, for sure, and I bet she can hold as much whiskey as he can.”

  After awhile, it was as if Daddy no longer existed. One day Mama was sitting in the swing and Carnikko eased beside her, softly asking, “Mama, have you stopped lovin' Daddy?”

  Mama replied, “I’ll go to my grave loving your daddy, honey, but he’s out of my life now. It’s the way it has to be.”

  “But Daddy told you he was sorry. Doesn’t the Bible say you’re supposed to forgive him?”

  “I did forgive him, honey. And that was the first time I ever heard your daddy say he was sorry about anything, but he was one sorry too late,” Mama replied, her eyes filling with tears.

  Carnikko didn’t understand, but she supposed Mama was right. That was the way it had to be.

  In September, Carnikko entered her third year of school and she was pr
oud to be wearing dresses made from store-bought material instead of feed sacks. She also wore girl’s oxfords that Uncle Clayton had found at Goodwill, though they were worn, a tad short, and pinched her toes. She owned two pair of socks, both hand-me-downs from Cousin Alice. They were too long and wrinkled in her shoes, giving her blisters.

  Sometimes the embarrassment and shame of being a ragamuffin was more than she could stand. Being able to fly away to her special place was the only thing that gave her any solace and lessened the anger inside.

  By mid-November it was getting nippy outside, but there was no snow yet. The church ordered a load of coal for them, but Mama held off building a fire until they could no longer stand the coldness in the house. Carnikko awoke on her birthday, but she was determined not to mention Daddy. He was gone from her life forever. There would be no more stories and no more of Daddy’s laughter. That was the way it had to be!

  As Carnikko walked into the kitchen, shivering slightly, she found Mama stirring a pan of oatmeal. “Happy birthday, my big girl! Come stand by the stove and get warm. I’ll be building a fire in the front room soon. It’s getting kind of cold outside.”

  She wrapped her arms around Mama’s waist, and Mama patted the mass of curls, saying, “My, my! My girl is eight years old today. You’re all growing up so fast. Soon I won’t have any babies anymore.”

  “Evan’s still a baby, ain’t he, Mama?”

  “Well, yes, but I meant tiny babies that I can hold in my arms and nurse. I miss that. Don is almost ten, you’re eight, Lee’s six, and in two weeks, Evan will be four.”

  “I’m glad today is Saturday so I don’t have to go to school. Do you think Uncle Clayton will come get us so we can go see Mammaw? I miss her so much.”

  “Maybe, honey,” Mama answered, but her tone didn’t sound convincing.

  Later that afternoon, just when Carnikko was about to give up hope, Uncle Carl and Aunt Lou showed up and took them all to Mammaw and Pappaw’s house.

  Aunt Bell played dress-up with Carnikko, helping her apply face powder, rouge and lipstick. Then Aunt Bell braided Carnikko’s long hair and pinned the braids on top of her head.

  As Carnikko admired herself in the mirror, she said. “Why, Aunt Bell, I’m beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Miss Sue. Miss Smith, my third grade teacher, is as ugly as an old crow, and she has wrinkles as deep as the trenches Daddy dug when he planted our garden—and she dresses like Old Mother Hubbard.”

  Carnikko slid down from the vanity stool, ran into the front room, and happily announced, “Looky, Mama! Ain’t I beautiful? Aunt Bell helped me.”

  Mama looked at her daughter, then held her heart as if she were about to keel over. “My stars, child! You look like a painted-up, dime store floozy. You go back in there and wipe that mess off your face!”

  Carnikko bristled. She was not a dime store floozy—and how dare Mama call her the same names that she called that woman Daddy had brought to their house? She ran from the room, followed by Aunt Bell, and sat dejectedly in front of the vanity mirror.

  As she grabbed some tissue and started wiping her face, Aunt Bell patted her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, honey. I guess that was a mistake. I don’t know why your mama always has to be so back-woodsy. No wonder your daddy took up—” Aunt Bell caught herself and didn’t finish the sentence.

  As she and Aunt Bell worked to remove the makeup, Carnikko heard Mammaw fussing at Mama. “Rachel, did ya have to hurt the poor child’s feelin's? She was only playin', and I thought she looked cute.”

  Mama replied sharply, “I won’t have my daughter thinking she’s making herself look pretty by painting up her face like Jezebel. I don’t want her getting all worldly and acting like a common tramp! I raised her better than that.”

  Carnikko looked up at Aunt Bell and said softly, “You know, Preacher told us the story of Jezebel once. She was the most sinful woman in the world. She was so bad that they stoned her, whipped her with a cane, or threw her out a window so the dogs could eat her—I don’t remember which. I think Mama’s being mean—mean to the bone. How could she say that about me?”

  Aunt Bell patted Carnikko’s shoulder again and said, “You’re still pretty, honey, even without all the makeup—and there isn’t a mean bone in your mama’s body. She’s just different because her parents raised her that way. She and your daddy are from two different worlds.”

  As Aunt Bell applied more cold cream to Carnikko’s face, she looked in the mirror and said, “Now I’m ugly—and I want to be pretty like Miss Sue. She wears makeup and bright red lipstick, and she’s not a Jezebel, no matter what Mama says!”

  A moment later, Aunt Lou walked into the bedroom, sat on the bed, and motioned for Carnikko to sit on her lap. “Listen, Carnikko,” she said. “I want you to know that you’re a very pretty little girl without any face paint. Your mama just wants you to stay a little girl for a while longer, that’s all. Don’t worry. You’ll get your chance to wear all that stuff later, when you’re older. Right now, why don’t you go get your coat on? It’s time to head for home.”

  Mama bundled the children, and they all headed to the car. Carnikko sat in the backseat, her arms folded across her chest, her bottom lip stuck out, and she pouted all the way home.

  The first snow fell in early December. The coalhouse was getting empty and food was scarce. They ate only one meal a day, and many nights they went to bed with their stomachs rumbling.

  The week before Christmas, school let out for a two-week break. Don and Carnikko got off the bus, hurried up the hill, and saw a black 1940 Chevy parked in front of the house. “Must be some church people. I hope they brought us some food!” Carnikko said.

  Don ran ahead, with Carnikko at his heels. They burst through the front door and then stopped in their tracks as they shouted, “Grandma! Grandpa!”

  Carnikko looked out the window and asked, “Grandpa, is that your car?”She was amazed that her grandparents had finally given up the mules and the wagon. After all, Grandpa had always said that cars were the devil’s machinery.

  “It sure is, and I have to admit it’s pretty nice having a car in the wintertime,” Grandpa said conspiratorially, as if afraid that God would hear him speaking blasphemy. “Of course, when the weather gets nice again, we’ll still use the team and wagon.”

  Grandma and Grandpa stayed a week, and they had brought lots of good things to eat. There were home-canned vegetables, ham from the smokehouse, homemade butter, sugar and flour. Mama and Grandma baked pies and made chocolate and peanut butter fudge.

  Carnikko was heading into the kitchen when she heard Grandma say, “Rachel, why do you let the children talk like they’re a bunch of hicks? You need to correct their grammar. My, my. You were never allowed to—”

  Before Grandma finished her sentence, Mama blew a deep breath and said, “Mother, they hear it at school, and their daddy and his family talk that way. They’re fine! Please—”

  Mama stopped talking when she turned and saw Carnikko standing in the doorway.

  Grandma tucked her head, lifted the pan off the stove, and set it into a pan of cold water, then she starting beating it as if she were mad at the candy.

  Mama looked at Carnikko and asked, “Do you want to rub the butter over the plates so we can spread the candy and let it harden?”

  “Yeah, I sure do,” Carnikko said as she headed toward the butter bowl that was sitting on the table.

  Just before she stuck her fingers into the bowl, Mama said, “Wash your hands first.”

  Carnikko washed her hands, walked back to the table, stuck her fingers into the butter bowl and smeared the plates. Then she licked her fingers, which got her a stern look from Grandma.

  Later that afternoon, Grandpa took Don and Lee out into the woods and cut down a cedar tree. They decorated it with strings of popcorn, then Mama and Grandma added strings of multicolored lights. It was the first time they’d ever had lights on their Christmas tree, and Carnikko was surprised that Grandma had brought th
em. Grandma never seemed to think anything modern was necessary.

  That night, Grandpa drove them all to church for the annual Christmas program. After the service, Santa Claus made a personal appearance, marching down the aisle and handing out small bags of fruit and hard candy to the children. Grandma was appalled at the sight of Santa in church, saying it was sacrilegious.

  The entire week of her grandparents’ visit, Carnikko complained of headaches. Her eyes were watering and there were times when she was sick to her stomach. Grandma said to Mama, “Maybe you should take her to an eye doctor. All the Winston's have weak eyes and eventually need glasses.”

  The thought of needing glasses filled Carnikko with fear. The kids at school would have even more reason to tease her! They’d call her a four-eyed ragamuffin. She vowed that she’d take to her bed and will herself to die if she had to start wearing glasses.

  Two days before Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa prepared to go home, but before they left, Grandpa slipped some money into Mama’s palm and said, “Take Carnikko to the eye doctor. If this isn’t enough, let me know and I’ll send more.” He squeezed Mama’s hand and said, “Is there anything else you need?”

  Mama proudly shook her head, no.

  Everyone said their goodbyes and then Grandma and Grandpa left for home. As Carnikko watched the Chevy disappear down the hill, she remembered the previous Christmas, when Daddy had come home—and their entire world changed forever. Daddy wouldn’t be coming home this Christmas.

  On Christmas morning, the children awoke early, ran to the tree, and shrieked with joy when they saw presents beneath the tree. Don and Lee got hand-whittled toy guns and leather holsters. Evan received a homemade toy wagon and a stuffed teddy bear. Carnikko’s present was a handmade oak doll cradle. It also had a small pillow and a quilt just like the ones Grandma had made for her bed. Carnikko gently placed Betsy-Wetsy in the cradle and began to rock her.