Patient: Crew (The Crew Book 1)

by Hannah Kaplan

  That’s the way the good people in some small towns go about living their good lives. Secrets. Awful as it may be Jima would some day want to know the truth, and would deserve to know. I’m one of those secrets; the kind you wish would stay away. My Momma was seeded by one of these good people and that secret has never been told. Instead they burned Momma’s house to the ground killing her in the process, but one little secret survived their justice—me. My existence alone was the reason for their hatred of me. No one wants to be reminded of his or her evil deeds on a daily basis. Their hatred was taught to their children, and no doubt their children’s offspring as well.

  A horn honked once outside on the street, and a whistle followed—the kind that is meant to get attention—causing Jima to run from the house and into the salon slamming every door in her path. “Dad’s here! Dad’s here!” Jima said while rounding the corner and heading to the door. I was ready to run with her. It was time for this visit to end.

  “Stop!” Maria yelled, Jima stopped.

  “Dad’s here,” she pleaded, “please.”

  “Walk,” Maria demanded.

  I wanted to hold on to Jima’s shirt tale and follow as she walked out the door but Maria started crying again. Her whole body was shaking as she dried her tears with the flowered smock. She needed something from me that I couldn't give.

  “I don’t know what’s got into me,” she said. “I suppose it’s all the memories pouring in.”

  I was racking my brain trying to conjure up some words that would help this poor woman move on with her life when Jima ran back inside letting the spring loaded door slam behind her. She reopened the door and shut it quietly while looking for Maria’s approval. “Shanna, Daddy says you need to come with us right now,” she demanded. “Please.” A horn honked once outside followed by another whistle. “That’s him and he’s not a patient man,” Jima said.

  Maria became distracted by a commotion outside the shop’s door and stopped crying. “Well for heaven’s sake half of Sunny is outside my door.” She went outside. Jima and I followed behind her and quickly got in the truck.

  “What are you people doing out here?” Maria asked.

  There were about fifteen people standing in groups of four or five whispering their opinions on the latest gossip—which obviously concerned me—in front of the salon. They glanced, not all at the same time, but never made direct eye contact and certainly didn’t speak to me. Jim drove away without saying a word; he turned up the radio and listened to the sorghum and grain prices on the farm report.

  “What was that all about?” I asked. Jima looked down shamefully as if to let me know she had been forbidden to tell.

  “Did you and Maria have a pleasant talk?” Jim asked.

  “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten the proper protocol when in Sunny. I should have known better than to ask about that which will not be spoken of.” Jima giggled. Jim quieted her with a squeeze of a knee. I decided not to ruffle his feathers, at least not in front of Jima. “It was a good talk. Learned a lot about what’s been going on since I left,” I said. He must’ve known about Maria’s open mouth policy when it came to gossip and therefore aware that I now knew everything.

  “Uh-huh, well if you need any more talking we can do that later,” he said. Jim turned off the radio and within ten minutes Jima was asleep on his shoulder. He carefully pulled his arm up and snuggled her close to his chest. She’s got Jim’s eyes, I remembered thinking those words and Maria saying them, but it wasn’t true she didn’t have a drop of Long blood in her. Still the love I saw between Jim and Jima was more than blood could encompass.

  I leaned my head out the window and let the wind blow the worries out of it. This was something I would do on the day trips with Marla. The hum of the crew was omnipresent inside me but when the wind blew on my face at a high speed it would muffle the sounds, and I could hear my heart beating with the rhythm of my breath. I missed Marla. I was curious about the scuttlebutt in town and what all those people were whispering about, but at the same time I didn’t give a rat’s ass what got their panties in a wad. I had no feelings about it whatsoever. I had one thing and one thing only on my mind, farming. They would eventually tire of me and focus their attentions on some other poor soul.

  We pulled up to the land, and my eyes could not open wide enough. I blinked and rubbed them, but the scenery remained the same. The land had been completely cleared and cleaned. Only a few smoldering embers from where the fires had burnt were left on the dirt. The garbage, car parts and thrown out kitchen appliances had all been taken away leaving hundreds of acres of clean farmland.

  “How did you do this?” I was yelling with excitement as I ran into the field to get a closer look. “When did you do this? This is what’s got those busybodies going?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Jim quietly said. He was not sharing my gleeful response.

  “Who in the hell did?” Jima said as she rubbed her sleepy eyes, and stretched her legs.

  “Watch your mouth girl,” Jim said. “I don’t know. Shanna?” he looked at me for an answer.

  “Me?” I asked. “I don’t know who did this. You must have done it.” I ran around the field. I was so happy I wanted to roll in the dirt like a pig in mud.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” Jim said sharply. “I didn’t know about it until Bradley called this morning.”

  “It had to be someone from the church I’d bet,” Jima said.

  “Yeah,” I laughed. “That must be it.”

  “God must’a pinched someone’s ass but good,” Jima said. We both laughed.

  “You need to start talking,” Jim said glaring at me.

  “I’ve got nothing to say. I told you a second ago and I’ll tell you again right now I had nothing to do with this. But I’m not complaining about it either. A week worth of work did in less than twenty-four hours is nothing to complain about. I’m pleased as punch and so should you be.”

  “I’m sorry if your having a bad reputation doesn’t please me,” he said.

  “Me having a bad reputation? What do you mean by that?” I couldn’t believe this was coming from his mouth. “What are they saying Jim? Are they saying I cast a spell? Slaughtered an animal and sacrificed it to Satan? I bet they think I saved some of the blood for you to drink. Come on Jim you know better.”

  “I don’t know what they’re saying, but you’ve got to admit it’s a bit strange,” he said. “I’m sorry but I’m stuck between two mountains without a way out.”

  “I can’t believe I’m hearing this out of you, of all people. You’re worried about your own reputation not mine.” I walked away furious. He was making it easy for me to disconnect I should’ve thanked him.

  “You shouldn’t fight when something good happens,” Jima said. “I’ll never understand you old people.”

  Jim heatedly kicked up some dirt and walked around in circles convinced I was hiding something from him. I kept my back to him as he walked to the barn, opened the overhead door, and went inside. Jima was staring at the tree line just beyond the field as if she were looking for something.

  “What do you think about all this stuff going on here?” I asked her.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t?”

  She looked down avoiding my eyes. “Maybe we could talk alone for a little bit. You think we can get rid of big Jim?”

  “Your daddy’s madder than hell. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Maybe you could come to my house later?”

  “No. It’s better if I show you what I’m talking about,” she said and then winked at me, slumped over, hugged her belly and started to limp.

  7.

  “Daddy my tummy hurts. I need some Midol. Maybe some tampons too,” she moaned. Jima held her mid section tight, and Jim all but ran from the barn to his truck.

  Jim rolled down the window and asked if I had anything she could use. “You know for that woman stuff.” I played along with Jima and assured him I had nothing that
would help. He rolled up the window and sped down the road to the Dry Goods where they sell any and everything that will not perish.

  Jima and I both had a little laugh at his urgency. “I haven’t even started having my periods yet,” she said.

  “What is it you know about all this?” I asked. “Do you know who cleaned the land?”

  “I think I do but I don’t know anyone personal like, it’s just I think I know something else they might have done,” she said.

  “That makes no sense. You either know, or you don’t.” I was firm. All loving feelings had faded hours ago. I was sick to death of this town, and I’d only been here two weeks and a day. If whoever cleaned up the land would be a problem I wanted to know from the get go.

  “I know,” she said. “That’s why I said I’d have to show you, and tell you. Then, you’ll understand.”

  “Then show me.”

  “We have to go back there,” she pointed to the tree line she had been staring at earlier. “It’s behind the brush.”

  “What is?”

  “It’s better if I show you, besides it’s something you should know about now that it’s yours.”

  We walked across the cleared field. I was amazed at how smooth it was. All that was left to do was plow and plant. Jima was silent throughout the journey from the field to the brush line. She talked when we got to the trees that led into the hills and only then to let me know when I should be careful. I had only known her for a couple of days, but I thought silence was probably unusual for her.

  Beyond the trees, we crossed a thicket of limbs and thorn bushes. The brush lasted for a good twenty yards before it let out into a small clearing canopied by the trees. Jima stopped in the middle of the clearing, and pointed to an area of wild rosemary bushes that had grown to at least six feet tall and round. I could smell their fragrance from where I stood. Behind the rosemary was another row of trees none of which were very tall. Every tree had clusters of climbing roses that went from the ground to the tops. Red, yellow, white and pink roses covered the trunks, branches and limbs. The beautiful garden of roses and rosemary was far from a natural occurrence this close to the cotton fields, or anywhere else for that matter. This garden was not accidental it was planted and regularly attended. The temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees under the tree canopy, and the smell was hypnotic.

  “It’s beautiful Jima but what does this garden have to do with the field? Do you think the same people who planted these flowers also cleaned the land?”

  Jima still silent walked to the middle of the rose covered trees, and stuck her hand between two of them opening a hidden door. Slowly I could see the outline of a house that was uniquely camouflaged within it’s own surroundings. I walked closer and saw the wood slats that had been cloaked by trees and roses. The smell was intense and sweet. I couldn’t stop filling my lungs with it.

  “You should come inside and see this,” Jima broke her silence.

  “What is this place? Is this? No it can’t be—can it?” I asked questions that my mind had already answered. This was the house Pop built for Momma when she turned seventeen. He moved her out to the land where he could keep an eye on her and she could live in peace and so could he—this was the house where I was born. “It’s not possible that it’s the same house. They burned it down. Everyone in the county knows they burned it down.” I was frozen where I stood completely bewildered. Jima pulled me inside.

  “It’s your Momma’s house all right, come in here there’s more.”

  The house was no bigger than the one I’d rented in town. The front door opened to a small living space fully furnished with two chairs, a table and an oil lamp. There was a small wood pellet stove standing on top of a chiseled stone for heating. A small dining table (with four chairs) sat in the kitchen, which was open to the living area. A couple of open doors led to a bedroom and bathroom. A charcoal sketch of a woman sitting on one of the wooden chairs hung on the wall above the pellet stove.

  “That’s your Momma,” Jima said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Over there in the corner in those boxes are her diaries.”

  I saw the boxes lined up against the back wall of the living area behind the chairs. There were twelve boxes all numbered and stacked in order. “How did you find this house and these boxes?”

  “I found the house about a year ago. I was just wandering around, and here it was. It wasn’t locked. I didn’t bust the door down or anything like that I just walked in through the unlocked door.”

  “Don’t worry I’m not mad at you. I want to know what’s going on around here,” I said. The last thing I needed right now was for her to clam up again.

  “Like I said, I was wandering around out here while Dad and Jason were working in the barn. I thought I saw someone running and I followed them.”

  “Who did you see?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I never saw them again, and it could have been anything I guess like a deer or rabbit or something but it sure did look like a regular old person. So…anyway I sort of ran into the side of the house and found the door and just went in. This is what I found. I come here sometimes when Dad or Jason is on the land and one time I rode my bike from our farm it’s only a few miles. The place always looks the same. Nothing is ever out of place. I even left a couple of leaves on the floor you know like on purpose just to test and see if it was cleaned up and the next time I came back it was clean.”

  As Jima was telling me about her discovery I was looking at everything. The kitchen was small and efficient with a back door. The bare wood walls gave the cabin a rustic smell. The chairs were carved out of pecan wood, which is plentiful in this area, and the cushions looked handmade. The shelves and tables were made from mesquite, but it was those boxes numbered one through twelve that I really wanted to see. Every box was full of neatly stacked black and white composition notebooks. Every page front and back of the first book was covered in handwriting. I grabbed another, and it was the same. I looked through another and another; all of them were filled with her writings.

  “Have these boxes always been here?” I asked. “You said they were diaries? How do you know that?”

  Jima looked down with shame. “I read some of them. I know I shouldn’t have read them, but I was curious. When I opened one of the books and saw your Momma’s name in the cover it made me even more curious.”

  “No. You shouldn’t have read these. They don’t belong to you. Does anyone else know about this place? Your friends?”

  “I haven’t told another soul. I swear to it,” she said and held up her right hand.

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “I had no reason to tell anyone besides if I did it wouldn’t be my secret place anymore, but now that they did that to the field I suppose everyone will know,” she said. Jima was a child yet still fully aware of the seriousness of this situation. “I think the same people who take care of this house cleaned up the fields. That picture is your Momma. I think they loved your Momma. They saw you in the field and thought it was her.”

  “It must be the hill people,” I said.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen even one of them. Not even Aunt Polly’ll talk about them, and she talks about everyone.” She cupped her hand to her ear in an effort to hear something from a distance. “Dad’s here that’s his whistle. We better go.” Jima was up and running out the door within a split second.

  “Wait,” I said as I gathered a few of the notebooks, shoved them under my shirt and ran to catch up with her. We ran around the trees and down the path to the sticker patch up and around the massive tree limbs and brush back to the field. We could see Jim at the barn so we pretended to race back to where he was standing.

  “I win,” Jima proclaimed as she slapped Jim smack in the belly.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” Jim said suspiciously.

  “I guess it was just a passing thing,” Jima shrugged.

  “What were y’all doin
g back there?” Jim asked.

  Jima explained that we were racing back and forth across the field looking at different bugs, and making plans for the crop. I snuck back to the truck where my bag still sat in the passenger side seat, slid Momma’s notebooks inside, and then went back over to join Jim and Jima. Jim was obviously still put out with me and didn’t have much to say to Jima either. He handed her the pain relievers and tampons, she proceeded to throw them in the truck bed without so much as a thank you.

  “Can you take me home?” I asked.

  “What are you going to do about this?” Jim asked.

  “I’m going home to think about it.”

  “You best do more than think. There was a crowd at the Dry Goods. Looks as if you’ve succeeded in irritating the town.”

  “I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me,” I said. I got in the truck and waited, as Jim looked around the clean field kicking up the dust a few more times. Jima got in the truck beside me.

  “He won’t settle down until he knows the truth,” Jima said.

  “I know,” I said.

  An hour later I was sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee and the first page of Momma’s diaries.

  ****

  Anna Ruth Green

  January 10, 1983

  Daddy gave me a diary today for my birthday. What a wonderful day this has been and now, since you are my gift, I have someone special to share it with. Today, I turn sixteen years old and I have been kissed. It was only once and just a little peck, but it counts just the same because it was from my boyfriend Bobby Garner. He came by the school to pick me up and kissed me smack on the lips right in front of everyone even the teachers. It was delicious to watch everyone’s eyes go all wide and buggy. He’s only three years older, but you would think he was thirty the way everyone in town carries on about it. Daddy hates him and says he’ll amount to no good. He said Bobby’s after two things, a wife and a free ride. I think he’s cute, and now I know how good he kisses.