Give Me Wings

by Joy Redmond

  Uncle Otis, nodded and said, “That’s right. Now you better pay attention and mind. We won’t stand for disobience.”

  After supper, Carnikko went up to her bedroom, flopped on the bed. I don’t care if I ain’t supposed to sit on a made bed. There are some things I’m just gonna do, no matter what they say. And I’ll never call her Mother. Never! And I ain’t gonna call her Aunt Iris, either. She ain’t my aunt. That goes for her husband too. He ain’t my father and he ain’t my uncle. From now on they’re just Iris and Otis, she thought, then she hoped she wouldn’t slip up and call them by their first names. She had no idea what they’d do to her.

  A few minutes later, Iris knocked lightly on the door, then walked in. Carnikko braced herself, but to her surprise Iris didn’t scold her for lying on the made bed. Instead, she walked over, sat on the bed herself, and said, “I’m sorry you got so upset, dear, but I’m only trying to teach you things you should have learned a long time ago. Maybe I’m pushing you too hard, too soon. I know it’s a big adjustment. It’s just that your people—”

  Carnikko didn’t let Iris finish. Her eyes narrowed as she said, “My people? Do ya think yer better than me just because yer a Hodge and I’m only a poor Randall? Daddy told me that we may be poor, but we ain’t pond slime. We’s as good as anybody!”

  Tears filled Iris’s eyes as she said softly, “No, dear. I don’t think I’m better than anyone. It’s just that I’m trying to teach you—oh, never mind. I’ll give you more time.”

  Carnikko was instantly sorry for what she’d said, especially after Iris had been so kind to her all day and had bought her so many wonderful things. Looking into Iris’s sad eyes, she said, “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be better at being Amanda. It’s just that I get nervous and I don’t want to make any mistakes. Right now, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and not supposed to do. I do want to thank you for all my pretty clothes and my new shoes. I’ve wanted patent leather shoes all my life!”

  Iris reached out and enfolded the child in her arms. “Tomorrow we’ll start with a brand new slate, okay?” Then she paused and added, “And by the way, the last few sentences you just spoke were perfect grammar.”

  “Yeah, er, I mean yes, ma’am, I’m learning. You’ll have me trained pretty soon.” You must think I’m a puppy and you can train me anyway you want me to be. And that’s exactly what Aunt Lou told you. Well, you might change me on the outside, but you won’t ever change me on the inside, she thought, then said, “I’ll go take my bath now. I can’t wait to put on my new pajamas and my housecoat and slippers. I ain’t—I mean, I’ve never had a housecoat and slippers before.”

  “I’m glad we can give you things you’ve never had before,” Iris said, kissing the child’s cheek. “You deserve nice things, dear.”

  She didn’t wipe off the kiss.

  Later that night, she lay in bed reliving the wondrous shopping spree. It really had happened—the fact that she was wearing her new pajamas proved it—but just in case, she quietly slipped out of bed, pulled a dress and a petticoat off their hangers, picked up the patent leather shoes, and carried them back to bed.

  She tucked the dress and petticoat under one arm and her new shoes under the other. “If I hold on to them tight enough, maybe they won’t disappear by morning,” she whispered into the darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Eight months passed, and the child gradually developed a dual personality. As Amanda, she adjusted to Iris’s strict rules, slipping up only occasionally, but Carnikko had difficulty trying to be somebody she wasn’t deep down inside.

  One morning, she stood in front of the mirror over the vanity and talked to her reflection. “Well, I never did like the name Carnikko, and since I can’t use it anymore, I’ll just call my old self, Nikko. And I don’t like the name Amanda either. So, I’ll call my new self, Mandy. That’s what I told the kids at school to call me since Iris enrolled me as Amanda Hodge.” She smiled at her reflection. “Don’t worry, Nikko. Iris won’t make you completely disappear. You’ll always live deep inside my heart.”

  Iris was adamant about Amanda being a straight-A student, and though the child tried hard, she did get a few B’s. When Iris berated, Nikko bristled, but Mandy wouldn’t let her talk back.

  Mandy and Nikko shared a love for the piano. They finished the first songbook and were ready to begin the second one. It was really the only thing they both liked.

  One Thursday afternoon, when the child came home from school, she found Iris sitting on the sofa, her eyes red and swollen. When she asked what was wrong, Iris said, “Oh, Amanda, I just finished talking with your daddy.” Her voice broke for a moment, then she collected herself and continued, “He said he’d meet with us in the lawyer’s office tomorrow and sign the adoption papers. You’ll finally be our legal daughter, and nobody can ever take you away from us!”

  Nikko was stunned. She never thought Daddy would sign the adoptions papers, and the fact that he had agreed meant that she would soon be Amanda for the rest of her life.

  Iris wiped her eyes, looked up and said, “I’m going to drive out to the field and tell Otis the good news. He’ll be so happy.”

  As soon as she heard the back door close, Nikko dialed Aunt Lou’s number on the phone. After three rings, Aunt Lou answered.

  “Is Daddy at your house?” she asked.

  “No, honey, he’s gone over to Mammaw’s—”

  Nikko hung up before Aunt Lou had finished her sentence, then quickly dialed Mammaw’s number. The phone rang ten times, but nobody answered. She slammed the receiver back into the cradle, then bounded back upstairs, where she flopped in the middle of the bed. She was sure Aunt Lou was the one who had talked Daddy into signing the adoption papers. “Aunt Lou needs to mind her own beeswax!”

  She closed her eyes and desperately begged Purple Angel to appear—but Purple Angel didn’t come. Then she felt herself floating, and everything became peaceful. When she opened her eyes, she realized that she was on the ceiling, as if she were a fly.

  Then she felt a slight breeze. Glancing to her right, she said, “Purple Angel! Why are we on the ceiling?”

  “Don’t worry,” Purple Angel said reassuringly. “It won’t last long.”

  She reached out and stroked Purple Angel’s wings. “I thought you forgot about me because you didn’t come when I called you—lots of times.”

  “I’ve always been with you,” Purple Angel said, “but there were times when you were just too upset to see me, and I’ve helped you many times, even when you thought I wasn’t around.”

  “You’re my size now!”

  “I can be any size I want to be,” Purple Angel said.

  The child looked down and saw her tiny body lying on the bed. She had always felt big when she was inside her body. “Why am I up here looking at me on the bed? Am I dead?”

  Purple Angel sweetly said, “No, it’s not your time. But life as you’ve always known it is dead.”

  The child whispered, “I know. It’s the way it has to be.”

  Iris and Otis came walking into her bedroom and she instantly found herself back inside her body on the bed.

  Iris started to say something about her being on a made bed, but Otis stopped her when he saw tears in the child’s eyes.

  “Let the child be, Iris,” he said, taking her arm. “She’s had a big shock. You’ve got to give her a chance to process all this. She’ll come around—but you’ve got to give her time.”

  Without another word, Otis led Iris back out of the room, leaving Nikko to try to understand what to do next.

  “Iris and Otis will have to drag us out of this room with the tractor,” Nikko said to Mandy. “Do they think they can cut us open, pour out our Randall blood, then refill us with Hodge blood? They’re two jackass jerks and morons!”

  “What do you think Daddy will do?”

  “Mandy, stop being a tittybaby. I’ve told you, Daddy will kick their sorry butts. Nobody is going to make us a Hodge. S
top crying. I’ll take care of us.”

  Later, she heard Otis talking to Iris, and she figured they were at the bottom of the staircase. “Iris, don’t go up there and baby her. Leave her alone. She’s pouting. When she gets hungry enough she’ll come down. If we give in to her, we’ll lose control. Just ignore her.”

  The child was glad to be left alone. Nikko, I ain’t ever gonna come out of this room. I’ve been hungry before. I didn’t die then and I won’t die now.

  Mandy softly whispered. “Your life is going to change and there isn’t anything that Nikko can do about it. It’s the way it has to be.”

  The child cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter Forty

  The next morning, Iris opened the door quietly and stepped into the room. She was wearing a two-piece navy-blue suit, white silk blouse, alligator heels, and a gold comb in the back of her hair.

  “Amanda,” she said softly, “it’s time to wake up.”

  While the child rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Iris said from the closet, “This is a big day.” She emerged from the closet with a blue dress and petticoat. Then she pulled open a drawer and took out panties, and white nylon socks with blue lace trim. “This is what I want you to wear today.”

  As the child threw her legs over the side of the bed, Iris added, “I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes, dear. Get dressed and then come downstairs, please.”

  At the kitchen table, the child folded her hands meekly in her lap and asked sweetly, “Cream of Wheat this morning?”

  “Yes, dear,” Iris said as she spooned some hot cereal into a bowl. “You seem rather subdued this morning.”

  The child didn’t acknowledge the comment. She just ate breakfast, went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and then walked out to the sun porch, where she found Iris holding out a sweater the same shade of blue as the dress.

  “It’s a beautiful day. Seventy degrees,” Iris said as the child slipped her arms into the sweater. “Perfect weather for a perfect day.” Iris’s smile was as big as the child had ever seen it.

  She followed Iris to the car, which Otis had backed out of the garage. He was dressed in a gray suit, a white shirt, a navy-blue tie with a red wavy design, and a gold tie clasp with matching cufflinks.

  The child sat in a stupor all the way to town.

  When they pulled up to the lawyer’s office, the child looked around, but she didn’t see a car that looked as if it would belong to Daddy. His cars were always old and made a lot of noise.

  Iris opened the back door, held out her hand, and said, “Well, we’re right on time. It’s always good to be punctual.”

  They walked into the lawyer’s office, where they saw a pretty woman with blonde hair and bright blue eyes sitting behind a metal desk. Her thin lips that were painted bright red—which meant Mama would have called her a floozy or Jezebel.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Hodge?” the pretty woman asked pleasantly.

  “Yes,” Iris answered in a ladylike voice.

  “Follow me please,” the woman said as she stepped around the desk and headed down a hallway.

  The walls of the hallway were dull gray, reminding the child of the hospital where she had spent so many months. She shivered. Somebody stepped on my grave!

  The woman stopped in front of a door and knocked lightly, and a deep voice from inside said, “Come in.”

  Iris led the child into the room while Otis trailed behind. A portly bald man in a three-piece blue suit stood behind a large oak desk. He extended his hand to Otis, then shook hands with Iris.

  Finally, he looked down and said, “Good morning. You must be the lucky little girl. He extended his chubby hand. “I’m Mr. Beal.”

  Nikko fought an overwhelming urge to bite the fat hand.

  “Please, everyone, have a seat,” Mr. Beal said. As everyone sat down, Mr. Beal continued, “Mr. Randall isn’t here yet, but we’ll give him a few minutes.” He sat in a leather swivel chair behind his desk, interlocked his fingers behind his head and attempted to make small talk as the chair squeaked under his weight.

  After a few agonizing minutes, there was a light tap at the door.

  Mr. Beal said, “Come in.”

  Daddy walked through the door, wearing his usual blue jeans, flannel shirt, and old high-top work shoes. His eyes were cold as steel when Mr. Beal extended his hand, which Daddy ignored.

  Mr. Beal cleared his throat and said, “Please have a seat, Mr. Randall.”

  “I’ll stand,” Daddy said, his voice cold as ice water. Then he turned his head in Carnikko’s direction and winked. She wondered if he had changed his mind. It certainly looked like it from the way he was acting.

  “Mr. Randall, I want you to read the papers carefully,” Mr. Beal said in an official tone. “I’ll be glad to explain anything you don’t understand before you sign, but the main thing I want to emphasize is that if the Hodges so choose, you won’t be allowed to have any contact with your daughter until she’s of legal age, which is eighteen in the state of Kentucky.”

  “I knew all that crap before I come in here,” Daddy said gruffly. “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

  Mr. Beal slid several pieces of paper in front of Daddy, but he dismissed them, saying, “I know what they say and I know what I’m givinꞌ up.”

  Daddy shuffled through the papers, finally lifting the third page and placing it on top of the others. Then he reached for a pen on the desk and signed the paper.

  With each stroke of the pen, Carnikko felt as if a sword was slicing through her body, dicing her into a thousand pieces, killing her off.

  Daddy placed the pen beside the paper. It was a done deal.

  Carnikko jumped up, screaming, “Daddy, I hate you! I ain’t never gonna forgive you for this!”

  Daddy looked at her, his eyes now full of pain. He took a few steps in her direction, reached out to touch her, but she shrank away from his embrace and backed up against Iris.

  Instinctively, Iris pulled her close, like a lioness protecting her cub.

  Daddy dropped his hand, his shoulders slumped, and a look of anguish came over his tired face.

  At that moment, Carnikko saw her daddy as a pitiful, wretched man. She also understood that he wasn’t giving her away because he didn’t love her. He was doing it because he did love her—and he had made the only choice he could have made to give her a chance for a better life.

  Without another word, Daddy turned and walked out of the room, but not before Carnikko saw a tear slide down his cheek. She remembered him telling her about how he had cried for the first time in his life on the day she was born. Now he was crying on the day Carnikko died—and Amanda was born.

  She felt as if she were standing on a frail bridge between two worlds, staring down into an abyss, wondering if she would ever know who she really was after that day.

  Methodically she followed Iris and Otis out of the room, down the long hallway, and out to the car. As she was walking, she felt a strong hand slip into hers, and instantly she felt warmth spread through her body, giving her renewed strength. But who was holding her hand?

  Otis and Iris were walking a few steps behind her.

  As they approached the car, the presence was still near.

  Otis opened the back door, and she climbed inside. From the backseat, she saw Otis look over at Iris and smile. Then he said with a smile, “We’re real parents now.”

  As Otis slowly drove through town and turned onto the main highway that would take them back to Cross Pointe, the child leaned forward, rested her chin on the back of the front seat, and said, “Will you please take me to the graveyard so I can talk to Mama? Mammaw said that she and Evan are in Rosewood Cemetery, in the back row, the first grave just as you turn the corner.”

  “It’s just up the road a bit,” Otis said. “We’ll find them, sugar pie.”

  Otis drove slowly through the cemetery and stopped the car near the back row. He looked over at Iris and said, “We’ll wait in the car. This is something that
she needs to do alone.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  The brokenhearted child opened the back car door, stepped out, and slowly made her way to the grave.

  Leaves from a nearby tree had fallen and completely covered the stone. She knelt and began brushing the leaves away, swiping with both hands in a fast, frantic motion, as if she were a dog digging fresh earth trying to find a buried bone. When the stone was clear, she stared at the names and dates for a long moment.

  Rachel Winston Randall

  August 10, 1922–January 4, 1951

  Dale Evan Randall

  November 29, 1946–January 4, 1951

  Using her index finger, she traced the etched names. Then she flung her body across the stone, sobs wracking her body. “Oh, Mama,” she cried, hugging the stone as if trying to embrace her mother, “Daddy gave me away. I’m not Carnikko Randall anymore. How can they do that? How can I be erased like chalk on a blackboard? I don’t know who I am and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore.”

  She rested her cheek against the cold stone. Suddenly, she felt a pair of loving arms enfold her, comforting her and bringing peace to her soul. Then her heart felt Mama’s voice, saying softly, You are who you are, my sweet child. I’ll always be with you. I’ll be the breeze that blows through the leaves in the trees above your head. I’ll be the sunshine on your hair on a warm summer afternoon. When you need me, all you have to do is close your eyes and you’ll feel me near you.

  “Thank you, Mama,” she said as she bent her head and kissed the stone, twice. “I love you, Mama. I love you, Evan. Please come and visit me again soon. I miss you so much.”

  She lingered a few minutes, then she stood and made her way back to the car.

  Otis started the engine, and she knew that Mama was right. She’d always be who she was no matter what name people called her by.