“Em, get down from there.”
“But I remember this one. I saw it last year with Aunt Bertie. Ladies danced on it, and they threw candy and plastic beads but mostly candy, chocolate bars that were gooey inside, and I crawled in the street to get as many of them as I could, and—”
Merry’s hands were firm under my arms when he lifted me off the float and set me on the ground. “I’m not negotiating with you, Em. Let’s move.”
A siren ripped the air outside. It made me jump, but Merry steadied me with his hand and steered me along a sheet-covered row. The warehouse was lit by two overhead lights, high up on the ceiling, making Mardi Gras float shadows on the floor and up the walls. I ran my fingers along the row, feeling plastic flowers and shiny streamers and round beads up close.
We wandered down an open path through more tall, sheet-covered blobs. The whole room smelled like the white stuff Aunt Bertie threw around the bottom of her roses and hand-mixed into the dirt. It cracked on her dark hands in rings.
Less than a night, and I missed Bertie so much. I closed my eyes. Would she hear me if I used my Wonder Twin power to tell her I loved her?
A shadow moved in front of us and planted its hands on its hips. “What’re you doing here?” A deep voice. I screamed at the black hulk of man that stood in the walkway. He had to be a Saints football player, he was so big.
Merry picked me up, and I buried my face in his chest. The man shouted. “I said, what’re you doing here?”
Merry shifted his feet and stood a little taller. “Working on our float for Mardi Gras?”
The man crossed his arms and sort of snarled. “Nice try. Wrong time of year.”
“We’re lost.” Merry’s voice shook a little when he fibbed.
“Well, consider yourself found. By the police. You come with me and wait while I call them.”
I shrugged out of Merry’s arms and stepped forward. “I’m looking for my—”
Merry got in front of me. “Well, you see. It’s like this—”
“No. We just need to tell him about Daddy, Merry. He’ll help us. I know it.”
Merry’s eyes got real wide, but he didn’t shush me. I walked up to the muscley man. My neck ached when I looked all the way up to his eyes, but I knew that eye contact with a man was important. My mother always cleared her throat if I broke eye contact with one of her men, even when they looked at other parts of me. But this man’s eyes held mine. “I ran away from home, because there’s this bad man who’s after me. I just need to get to my daddy. In Nashville. Merry found me and offered to take me there, even though he lost Daddy’s letters.”
He uncrossed his arms and squatted to help me see him better. I thought maybe it was a good sign, so I rushed on.
“The bad people are outside on the river, and we came in here to hide from them. We need to get away. If you call the police, they’ll find me and give me to the bad man and I’ll never, ever see my daddy again.” I stepped closer to him. “Will you help us, Mister? Will you help me find my daddy?”
He scratched his bald-head and looked at Merry. “How do I know you aren’t some kidnapper?”
I tugged at his pants leg. “I’m a little girl. Little girls are supposed to be afraid of kidnappers, but I’m not afraid of Merry. I told you. He’s helping me find my daddy. Please please, help us.”
He sucked in air until his cheeks were balloons and blew it out with a long pop, his eyes moving from Merry to me and back. When he talked again, I realized I was holding my breath. “Where you need to go?”
Merry stepped behind me and covered my shoulders with his hands. “Upriver. To Natchez, Mississippi.”
He stood up, his massive hands on his hips. “What the hell you want to go there for? There’s nothing in Natchez.”
“Well. See, I think the Natchez Trace will be the safest way to get to Nashville. The folks after us will most likely focus on the river. But a forgotten roadway? I doubt they’ll think to look for us there.”
“I know the place you mean. Nothing there but ghosts.” The man waved his beefy hand at the floats. “You like ghosts, little girl?”
“I don’t know. I never met one.”
He looked at the ceiling and laughed. His straight white teeth stood out against the rest of him. “Well, I reckon that’s getting ready to change.”
Merry took a couple of steps toward him. “Look—what’s your name?”
“Jim. Jim Watson.”
I couldn’t hold my question anymore. “Are you a football player, Mister Jim?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nah. Never was much for all that. I’m retired. Used to run boats on the river. Now, what’s your name?”
“I’m Emmaline, and this is Merry.”
My hand was swallowed when he shook it. “I’m charmed, Miss Emmaline.”
Merry put his hand on my head. “Jim, we need to get to Natchez. By water, if possible. Do you know anybody who might take us? Tonight?”
I watched his eyes and counted the seconds until he spoke. “I might be able to take you. Can you pay for the trip?”
Merry took some money from inside his coat, pulled out a few twenties and held them out to Mister Jim. He counted it, then stuffed it all in his shirt pocket.
I decided it was settled. “Will you take us? Right now, Mister Jim?”
The light flashed off his bald head when he nodded. “Maybe. Got a house-boat tied up out there. Past the last of the buildings yonder.”
Merry held out his hand to shake Mister Jim’s. “We can only travel at night.”
“I don’t want to know about it.” He stopped and studied Merry’s outstretched hand. “Let’s just say I’ve done this sort of thing once before. Long time ago. Helped a boy run away from a bad papa. He turned out all right.” Mister Jim grabbed Merry’s hand and pumped it once. I put my palm on top of theirs to seal everything.
Almost like the Wonder Twins. They touched hands to become something else. We needed to become something else if we were going to get away from the Judge and his men.
Mister Jim pointed with his head. “Go that way. I’ll get the lights and meet you at that door. Boat’s through there. We’ll have to walk a little ways.”
“Follow me, Em.” Merry picked our way through more Mardi Gras floats. More clowns. Dragons that spit fire. A woman with snakes for hair. Skeleton faces with big hats of flowers. A pirate with a patch over his eye.
I liked the pirate best, because he was like us. On the run. Hiding.
At the other end of the building, Mister Jim stood next to a switch. “Last one. I’ll open the door. You go on out there and wait for me.”
Merry nodded and led me through the slit in the door. It was darker than I remembered, cloudy again, and the wind was cold. Rain spattered onto the ground.
The door grinded shut and Mister Jim pointed toward the river. Next to the water, we found a ledge we could walk on. Merry picked me up and carried me to it. The river lapped against the sides as we stepped between it and another warehouse. Merry kept us close to the building as he inched along. Mister Jim’s deep breathing followed us.
Around another corner, the path dead-ended at a broken fence and black water. Behind us, lights helicoptered over the river. I saw the muddy water and thought about swimming away. How far could I go? I strained my eyes at everything: the river and the shore. “Merry! Look!”
A twisty walkway floated below us. It snaked around the edge of the water between the warehouses and a marina, with lots and lots of boats.
Lights came close to Merry’s head. I ran my hand around the edge of the building and pulled it back and shook it. “Around there, Merry. My hand hit something hard.”
“It’s a ladder, Em. It runs down to the walkway.”
Mister Jim snickered. “I told you this was the way.” He pushed past us and wrapped one leg a
round the corner of the building. When he got on top of a ladder, he reached out his hand to me. Lights lit up the wall next to where I stood. I stumbled a little, trying to get out of the way. “Come on, little lady. Climb on down with me. If you slip, I’ll catch you.”
A spotlight almost hit my toe when I slung it around the side of the building. I held my breath and waited for shouts from the water, for somebody to see me. Instead, the river lapped against the path. It masked our steps, maybe even helped us.
I put my feet on a slippery step and lowered myself to the dock, waiting for Merry to join Mister Jim and me. When the warmth from Merry’s hand moved up my arm, his strength flowed into me. I followed Merry’s fast steps and hoped the water and the sounds of the sirens would keep anyone from hearing us.
Mister Jim turned onto a ramp and climbed steps to another pier where the planks of wood snaked through boats: sailboats and motorboats and fancy boats. Which one was Mister Jim’s?
He ran toward the end, leaving Merry and me to catch up, and jumped onto a houseboat, rattling the wood-and-glass doorway in front. He motioned for us to hop on board, and we followed him into the captain’s wheel. A ladder went into a dark hole. I couldn’t see below.
Merry panted when he spoke. “We can’t risk turning on any lights, Jim. We don’t need to draw attention.”
“No problem. Been running this river in the dark as long as I can remember.”
When Merry took my hand, it wasn’t so scary to follow him down below. Everything sounded hollow inside the boat. Through a window, a smattering of stars winked above the water. No blue lights that far upriver.
“Merry, I think we tricked them.”
“Maybe we did.” He rubbed my head and pointed me toward a door. “There’s probably a bed through there. You go on. Try to get some sleep. I’ll keep Jim company until we get out of New Orleans.”
He went up the ladder and left me to pull back the musty sheets and tuck myself in. I sank onto the hard mattress in my damp dress just as the boat’s engine chugged to life. The reflection of the water made waves on the ceiling, and I wondered: what was the world like beyond New Orleans? I always dreamed of seeing other places, but would anywhere else ever feel like home? With its rowdy people. Its smell of mud and fertilizer. The perfume of Aunt Bertie’s roses through the whirring blades of a fan.
If the Judge let us get out of New Orleans, I hoped I could come back someday. With Daddy.
FIFTEEN
I used to be a soldier. A military man. Leader of the whole American army. I served the first five Presidents of the United States, in some capacity or another. How many other men could say that?
Certainly not Meriwether Lewis. He sucked up to Jefferson and ignored the rest. Never understood the value of playing every political angle. We eke out success when we remain true to ourselves, whatever the cost to others.
I learned that early in my military career.
We had been marching all night. The Ohio River Valley, back in the 1790s…….well, it was wilderness. Trees crowded along the ground, too thick to walk through, all spangled with vines that choked out the sun. I didn’t know what time it was when I smelled it, that first whiff of Death. It clogged up the air until I thought it would smite us all.
Seeing Death was worse.
We came upon the remains of another platoon. One of ours. I could still see ragged glimpses of the uniform in exposed bone and maggoty flesh. Heads void of scalps and mouths stuffed full of dirt.
The Natives were tenacious in defense of their land. And, it was theirs. We were the poachers, our true selves.
I vomited as I dragged mutilated body parts into a heap, especially when there was enough left to recognize someone. Would my Death be violent? I was young then, but I wondered. All the time.
When Death finally killed me, I remembered that scene from my youth. How the Natives fought to protect their turf. No act was unthinkable, no action undoable.
It’s how I made Nowhere my home. My kingdom. My turf, the place where I could always find Ann again, if I was willing to do whatever it took to defend my space.
I looked sideways at Nadine Cagney, huddled in the passenger seat. Her fine nose and charcoal hair. Her chin trembled as she hugged her knees to her chest.
She perked up when I smiled. When I said I wouldn’t take her to the station. We could go to my house instead.
SIXTEEN
Sun hit my face, and I woke from a creepy sleep of bulldogs and running and water. When I rolled over, I knew it was all real, not a dream. I was on a houseboat, on the way to find my daddy, with Merry and a man named Mister Jim, who sort of looked like Aunt Bertie as a man.
I slid my feet to the floor. It shook with the hum of engines. The rocking of the boat made it hard to stand, but I moved my weight back and forth between my legs until I got used to it. Muddy air wafted through the open door at the top of the ladder. A bird floated through the square of sky.
I sniffed the air. Pe-ew. My filthy dirty dress just plain stunk. I had to find something else to wear.
Under the bunk beds, I found a clean white t-shirt, big enough for a grown-up. It hung to my knees when I put it on over my nasty dress. My mother would die if she saw me. Or smelled me. She never allowed me to look disheveled. Her word. At every moment, I was required to be pretty. To be ready for a visit from one of her men. When I looked down at myself, I realized I wasn’t any man’s little beauty anymore.
Especially not the Judge’s. What did he mean when he said Merry killed his wife?
I called out his name, but it was lost in the hum of the engine and moving river. I opened and closed cabinets and turned on the water in the sink to see if it worked like the ones in real houses. The water that came out was river-brown. Yuck.
Still, my stomach rumbled, and I remembered I hadn’t eaten since last night. Aunt Bertie brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich up to my room. She even cut off the crusts and mixed the peanut butter and jelly together, just the way I liked it. Would anybody else ever know what I liked without me telling them? The world was a lonely place without anybody who knew me like Bertie. I could still see the look on her face—strength and caring. It followed me when I ran. I missed Bertie already. So much.
I blinked back tears and focused on another cabinet. Daddy would know what I liked. When I found him, he would know everything.
A plate. A plastic Mardi Gras cup. A string of green beads. Peanut butter. Yum. It was warm and sticky on my finger. I pretended it was an ice cream cone and licked layers with my tongue.
Behind the ladder, a door hid a shower and potty. I tugged a rusty chain and squealed when water fell all over my head. I ripped off all my clothes and stepped under the water. It soaked into my nooks and crannies and washed off my old life: my mother and tea with her men; the Judge and his fake smile; even Aunt Bertie and New Orleans. The water ran until my skin was red, and I figured I was clean. Still, I used a little bit of soap.
Just in case.
I studied my skin in the cloudy mirror above the sink, and I combed my hair with my fingers before it dried in knots. Dirt was crusted on my dress, but could I wear just the t-shirt? Would I still be me? The dress and the t-shirt were the Wonder Twins, hanging from the ends of my fingers.
The t-shirt was soft on my skin. I pulled it over my head and wadded up the dress. Before I threw it in a white trash bag next to the ladder, I stopped and pulled off a square of lace. Just a little bit of my old life. Still me, but different. New.
Sunlight made me squint at Mister Jim behind the wheel of the boat. His dark eyes looked bruised around the edges, but he smiled with big white teeth. “Thought you were going to sleep the morning away.”
“Hi, Mister Jim. Where’s Merry?”
“I’m right here, Em.”
Merry stood in the pointy place at the front of the boat, his back to the wind, and watched Miste
r Jim steer the boat. Thick trees grew along the shore, all the way into the water. Mister Jim moved the boat into a spot behind an overgrown island near the shore. Everything went quiet, except for the slapping of water against the boat and the caw-caw of a black bird.
“Should be a good hiding place for the day. We’ll cast off again at dusk.” Mister Jim threw an anchor in the water. It splashed and made bubbles as it went down.
I pulled at the hem of my t-shirt, my mind racing with things to say. It was hard to believe all that had happened to me in one day. All the dreams about Daddy, and I really was on my way to find him. Even though we didn’t have his letters, my heart knew where he was. It beat to bursting every time I thought about him.
Still, I couldn’t erase the sound of my mother’s voice, begging not to be hurt. I missed my mother. I didn’t expect to miss her when I ran.
Embarrassed by the tears in my eyes, I turned away to study the black-ish water. The Mississippi always smelled funny around New Orleans, an oily smell. Away from the city, its brown surface was most of what I could see in every direction. Tree covered islands stuck up out of the water here and there, and the air smelled like dirt and leaves.
Merry’s hand warmed up my shoulder. “We’re still a night and a day from Natchez, by my calculations. If there’s anything to eat down below, we won’t have to stop.” Laughter tinkled in his voice. “But, you can always do some fishing for your dinner.
The sun made a halo around his head, and I squinted up at him. “Fishing? Me?”
Mister Jim hooted, a deep bass like one of Daddy’s band mates. “Got plenty of rods. Enough for all of us.”
Merry’s lips twitched. “There’s nothing like slinging a line in the water, watching it disappear all blank-like and coming up with a squirming, scaly hunk of dinner. Between all of us, we could likely gut eight or ten fishes in thirty minutes, tops.”
A yucky taste came up in the back of my throat. They were murderers, both of them. I crossed my arms and ground my feet into the sun-bleached deck. “I’m not killing a fish to eat. Yuck.”
To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis Page 7