The kitchen looked so normal when I walked in. Not like the place where my eldest had dunked her head in a sink full of gray water. Where she screamed and cursed with all the church ladies watching.
I don’t know when Malachi left the house. He said he was going to the church for a bit to clean up and pray and read before he made his visits around town.
I poured myself a mug full of coffee and even though it was lukewarm I wished I could just sit with it quietly. Instead I heard footsteps upstairs. In minutes Mallie, George, and Harriet all came tumbling down the steps as loud as elephants. Harriet was the first to squeeze my middle. George was already chasing around his big brother with the kind of energy I wasn’t sure I ever had.
After breakfast I spent over an hour cleaning up even though I had just cleaned on Saturday. But old houses liked to sneak the dust back in and I wanted to make sure I was ready for anybody who might stop by. Ain’t nobody gonna see my dirt. It was just a moment after I threw a pail of dirty water out the back door when Harriet bounced in with Marlene Carter.
She looked at least as elegant as she had the first time I met her, maybe more. Her daughter was with her, also tall and perfect, and they were both dressed like they were about to meet the mayor or something. I pulled off my apron and hung it on a hook on the wall as I said hello.
“I hope it’s all right that my Belinda and I stop by.” Her voice was so northern, even more than my husband’s. It sounded different to my ears. Her clothing fit her smoothly and she didn’t have my lumpiness. She had a friendly smile, but I’d seen a lot of those same smiles in my time. Was she coming to gawk at the family with the crazy girl?
Probably should rouse her to be polite since Belinda was her age. But that girl looked like she smelled something bad. She didn’t have one bit of friendly, even the fake kind, in her expression.
“Of course it’s all right that you stop by. We ain’t got much ’round here, but I was just fixing to make some sweet tea. Y’all just have a seat.” I gestured toward the kitchen table.
Marlene looked at her daughter and nodded. Belinda’s sigh sounded more like a grumble. She plopped her butt down on a chair and started riffling through the Montgomery Ward magazine on the table.
“Tea would be wonderful.” Marlene offered a drippy-sweet smile.
“Harriet, go on upstairs and get your sister.” Then I turned to my company. “That girl could sleep the day away if I let her.”
As if Sparrow hadn’t embarrassed me enough already, now she was at it again. I suppose I had to give her a chance to try and show these two that she wasn’t so crazy. She could act normal if she tried.
“Is she”—Marlene cleared her throat—“feeling better?”
I opened my mouth to say something about how she was just fine when Harriet come down and I don’t get nothing out.
“She ain’t up there, Mama. Can I go back outside to play with Tootsie?” Harriet was jumping up and down.
“What you mean, she ain’t up there?” I tried to keep my voice even and calm. I turned to Marlene. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
I rushed up the stairs expecting to prove Harriet wrong. Of course Sparrow had to be in her bed. Because my heart was thudding so dang hard and I hated running up the stairs, I was winded when I got to the top. I turned the corner and saw right away that Sparrow wasn’t in her bedroom.
My whole body sagged. She’d heard my ugly words the night before. She had reason to run. But where would she go? It wasn’t like she could’ve gotten on a bus or something to get back to Montgomery. The nearest bus station was in another town. She didn’t have no money anyhow. Would she start walking?
I couldn’t tell Marlene Carter that my girl ran off, and even if I could go find her, I’d have to cart Mallie, Harriet, and George with me. Malachi was off somewhere probably eating his fill of pie, cold chicken, and grace, and here I was—in this mess with Sparrow again. I started sweating and my underarms stung. I took slow steps down the stairs, thinking.
“Well now, sorry ’bout that, ladies.” I put on my own fake smile—I knew it well. “Sparrow’s not well, so she won’t be coming down.”
“Oh, we’re sorry to hear that.” I could tell that Marlene didn’t believe me.
EMMA
When the sound of boots against wet grass brushed against my ears, I was surprised to find Johnny. He ran out of the woods like he was being chased. My mind went to the things I’d found at the small clearing. Had he seen that someone found it? His eyes smoldered and his face was tense. He was wearing his tall rubber boots as usual and they parted the long, uncut grass. His gaze was narrow and focused, and he didn’t seem to notice me at the open kitchen window. I left the sink and pushed through the screen door and walked onto the porch.
He didn’t see me until I spoke his name.
“Johnny?”
He didn’t hop onto the porch like usual. His eyes were frantic in finding mine.
“Vas ist letz?” What was wrong was the simplest way to ask, though I could be asking why he was in the woods so early in the morning. Was he looking at that dirty magazine? Did he want to become a drunk like his father?
“Sehl maedle.” He lifted his straw hat before running his hand through his damp, dark hair. His shirt was unbuttoned and his chest gleamed with sweat.
“That girl? What girl?”
“Sehl dungel maedle?”
“Sparrow?” What other dark girl could he be talking about?
“She’s in the woods. I found her. I think she’s sleeping but—you just need to come.”
I jumped down into the dew-covered grass and we were off toward the woods. My mind filled and spilled over like the eaves on my house. Why would Sparrow be asleep in the woods? Nothing I could imagine sounded reasonable except that she had gotten lost— but the woods were not so dense for a girl her age.
“She seemed so scared the other day. I felt bad for her.”
I couldn’t remember the last time Johnny had talked to me about anything more than the necessities of life. Yes, he was done with his chores. No, he didn’t want a third helping. Yes, he would be going to the Singing. No, I shouldn’t wait up for him.
As I considered these thoughts, I realized he’d lied to me. “You met her.”
“Ja.”
“Alone? What happened? Was she upset?”
He sighed loudly. “Arnold said—some things—things he shouldn’t have said.”
He didn’t need to explain further. While I had not been around Negro people much, I knew what many white people called them. It was part of a world I didn’t understand and tried to stay away from. But already, with just the little I knew of Sparrow, it pained me that anyone would treat her unkindly because of the color of her skin.
Over the next five minutes Johnny told me to hurry every few steps. “Over here.” He grabbed my arm, making me run faster. “She’s on the ground.”
When I saw her it was almost as if she’d grown there right out of the earth. Like she was part of it. She looked so comfortable I hated to disturb her.
“She’s breathing, right?”
Johnny’s overflow of worry didn’t make sense to me. I’d never seen him concerned like this. I put my finger to my lips, then mouthed yes.
I turned back to her and watched the shallow shift in the rhythm of her breathing. Her dress was a pretty green. The fabric was finer and thinner than my own. Hers had a collar, buttons, and short, pleated sleeves. Billows of frizzy brown hair surrounded her face. Her bare feet were dirty and scratched.
At first sight, because of the way she was nestled like a baby, she appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But with a closer look, I could see from the tightness in her brow to the curl in her toes that she was anything but peaceful. Her arms were wrapped around herself, her bottom lip was clamped between her teeth, and the space between her eyes was so wrinkled up it looked like it might just stay that way.
I touched her sleeve. She stirred a little and I pulled away. I wa
s quiet for a while and just watched her.
“Mem.” Johnny’s voice broke in, reminding me that he was still standing behind me. “What should we do?”
My kindisch son. My immature boy who shirked many of his responsibilities wanted to be part of this? Wanted to help this girl? It made me nervous. I wasn’t sure why. I found nothing wrong with befriending a Negro family, so what was I afraid of with regard to Johnny? It wasn’t against the church to be friends with non-Amish people—Englishers. But his friendship with Arnold was destructive. This was not the same, was it?
Was I afraid Johnny was as drawn to Sparrow as I was?
“Go back to your chores, Johnny.”
“Neh, I want to—” His whisper was louder than mine and Sparrow flinched but didn’t wake.
I turned back to my son. His lips were pursed and he shifted from foot to foot a few times. Then he bobbed his head toward Sparrow—as if encouraging me to wake her. I took a deep breath and then agreed.
“Sparrow,” I said just above a whisper. “Sparrow. It’s Emma, your neighbor.”
After repeating her name a few times, I placed my hand on her arm. When she woke her eyes opened wide as if in shock, and she gasped like she was fighting for her last ounce of breath.
SPARROW
Her words spilled over my ears like water. Then the water covered my face and filled my nose and I couldn’t breathe. I heard my name but the sound of it smothered me. My mouth felt pinched together, like my lips been sewed up. Then I saw Carver’s face but it was all blurry, like through water. I called for him but he didn’t get no closer.
I had to get away.
I opened my eyes and gasped for breath.
The Amish woman, Emma, was in front of me and behind her was that boy—her son. Johnny. They both got those worry lines across their foreheads. Where was I? I was in the woods between our houses. All the stuff from the day before rolled over me like a big wave. But my mind didn’t linger on that too long, because I got these faces looking at me.
My heart slammed over and over in my chest and my hand pressed against my bosom. The front of my dress was open. The boy looked away and I looked down at myself.
“Let me help.” The lady smiled and buttoned my dress. Then patted my hand. That white woman done touched me. I nodded a thank-you and repositioned my legs as stiff as cold taffy. I winced.
“Are you hurt?” the woman asked and it made Johnny turn back around. Our eyes met and I got warm all over.
“I fine.” My voice sounded small in the open air. I had to show the lady that I was just fine so I started to stand. The nice woman grabbed my elbows right away, then Johnny did the same. I never had nobody try to help me so much as these two. And they white.
The woman looked at me like I was hers but in a nice way—not the other way. Her hand was on me like it was okay and I didn’t know where to put that in my mind.
And the boy. The heat of his hand went all the way through the skin of my arm and down to my bones. All the attention made me nervous.
“Look like you got a knack for finding lost people,” I said before I heard how stupid it was.
“Johnny found you. He came to get me. Why are you out here? Did you get lost? How long were you here?”
I didn’t know which question to answer. I could almost hear Mama telling me that I should always give a respectful answer when an elder asks me a question, especially if the elder was white—’cause we don’t want no trouble. But I still don’t know what to say. I couldn’t tell her I had a fit and that Mama wished she left me back with my old, grumpy, spinster aunt. And that I just wanted to get away.
“Don’t y’all worry ’bout me. I’ll just walk back and let y’all get on with your morning.” I smiled as much as I could even though I didn’t want to go home.
“Let me walk you home.” Emma started helping me to the path—touching me again. Someone needed to tell this lady that it ain’t proper.
I looked at my arm where her hand was. “You shouldn’t do that, ma’am.” I gently pulled my arm from her. I looked down at my feet, ashamed at how dirty they was. I kept my face down. “I dirty and I wouldn’t want you to get dirty ’cause of me, ma’am.”
“But I’m . . . Please, call me Emma.”
“Can’t do that, ma’am. Mama would turn me inside out.” I paused. Was that disrespectful? So I tried to explain myself. “I don’t even call Sister Sandra Thompson by her first name and I knew her since I’s a baby—she was my neighbor.”
“What do you call her?”
“Mrs. Thompson or Sister Thompson, of course—ma’am.” I wanted to dig myself a hole and crawl into it.
“If you called me Mrs. Mullet, about six other women along with myself would turn to answer. It’s just our way.” Her voice danced along the trees and sounded like music to me. “We see children and adults equally—and since many of us share last names, we all use first names.”
“Everyone?”
She smiled and nodded.
I took in what she said, but besides my face maybe screwing up some, I don’t know what to say but I know I got no business using her name. I’d be in even more trouble than I already was. Didn’t need that.
“I better go. Mama will be—” I didn’t finish my thought, didn’t know how. Then I saw Johnny’s eyes on me and turned around fast to start down the path. My feet would suffer because of this.
“I’d like to see you home.” Emma caught up. Even just thinking of her as Emma seemed wrong to me and somehow Mama would find that out.
I wouldn’t be able to stop the woman—unless I was rude to her. I didn’t know what was worse—Mama knowing a white woman was going to trouble for me or me being rude to her so she wouldn’t. If I was being truthful, I wanted her with me. She had this warm milk sort of way about her. A body just couldn’t walk away from somebody like that. You just want to drink it in ’cause you don’t know if you ever gonna meet anyone like that again.
“I’ll come too.”
Johnny’s words made my insides burn.
We both stopped and turned around.
“No, Johnny.” Then the woman spoke in her other language. He said something back to her before he looked over at me for a second, then sighed.
I didn’t have to understand her words to know the conversation they were having. Johnny wasn’t supposed to be here at all—he came ’cause of me.
My face felt all burned up when he set his gaze back on me when his mama was watching. He seemed like he was about to say something but instead he gave me a long look. I didn’t take another breath until he walked away.
The woman went ahead of me on the narrow path. I followed her. I was glad that I could just see her back and not her face when she started talking again.
“Who’s Carver?” she asked.
I didn’t respond, wasn’t sure how to.
“You said ‘Carver’ when you were waking up.”
“My little brother,” I said after a time. Maybe I wanted her to know.
“I thought his name was George.” The woman didn’t turn around when she spoke.
I walked a few steps. “Carver was George’s twin.” I don’t know why I was talking. This woman was a stranger. She white. Too many reasons for me to keep my mouth shut. My mama was gonna kill me dead. Maybe that was okay.
“Was?”
“Yeah. He gone.”
There was a long bit of silence after I said that.
“What happened?”
I never did hesitate before I answered her with more truth than I’d ever spoke in my life.
“I killed him.”
DELILAH
I couldn’t see into the woods with the green leaves shielding my view. The panic I felt when George was missing came back. That, of course, took me right back to when I heard that Carver was lost to me for good. All because of Sparrow. Why that girl got to be so irresponsible and just about useless? I raised her better than that.
I got rid of my company after saying Sparrow
wasn’t feeling well. Nobody want to be around a sick house. And I decided it wasn’t much of a lie. I hadn’t said nothing about that darn girl being upstairs, in the woods, or on the moon. Just let them figure what they wanted to. Belinda looked glad to leave. Didn’t think she got much for Sparrow.
Before I could make a decision about what to do, the front door creaked open and there she stood. Sparrow still got on her Sunday dress. It hung on her a little crooked like and her hair was mussed. Her shoulders were a little slumped. But she didn’t hesitate to look me right in the eyes.
“Lord have mercy, girl, where you been?” My tone ain’t nice or dignified like I tried to do when I got company. I got half a mind to pull that girl by the ear all the way upstairs and give her a spanking like a little child.
I looked her up and down again. She crossed her toes like she was trying to hide her dirty feet. I was just about to complain that she was standing on my clean floor when behind her came that Amish woman.
“Her name is Emma, Mama. And she’s nice.”
“Her name is ma’am to you.” I dished it to her with my mad face. Then I tried to take a breath to calm myself, but I felt like an angry steer with my nostrils flaring. Why did she bring that woman into our home? “Now, ma’am, I am not trying to be disrespectful, but I’d like to know what you’re doing with my daughter.”
“She was asleep in the woods. I wanted to help.” Her voice was so much softer than mine and I could tell she was a meek-spirited woman. She was probably thinking I’m just about the worst mama around.
She was wearing a light-brown dress and her hairline was tidy, and she wore that bonnet, of course. This white woman found Sparrow only days after she found George. And she don’t know nothing about Carver and don’t know that Sparrow had her head in the clouds as bad as the bird she got her name from.
I gave myself an extra few moments. I had to remember that even though she was an Amish woman and might not be just like other white people, I still didn’t want no trouble. I didn’t want nobody spreading stories that I didn’t know my place and that my children were wild and trespassing on white folks’ land.
The Solace of Water Page 9