“Marlene and Titus’s boy, Kenny, is having some troubles. He got eyes for Mr. Coleman’s daughter.”
“What? What is he thinking?”
I felt Malachi shrug.
“He’s a stupid young man.” Malachi was serious but also added a little chuckle. Kenny wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to set sights on the wrong girl. “I’m going to try to talk some sense into him.”
Then a weighty pause filled the room.
“But I don’t want to talk about Brother Daryl or Kenny or anybody at church right now.” His words were whispered now and his mouth was just behind my ear.
I just looked at my purse full of dirt and I couldn’t catch my breath with all the grief packed around my heart. My lungs were full of the burden and it all lived stuffed up in my throat. The handbag with his dirt just sat there almost like it was staring at me. I thought it was like having him with me or at least a part of him, but it wasn’t. What I brought with me was a load of dead dirt.
Malachi thought he was comforting me, as if I was comforted his way. He didn’t say a word and my body became like bread dough in his touch and I got no strength. He turned me over to face him, but I couldn’t really see him. I just looked through him. It was like the muscles in my body didn’t want to work no more.
I knew what was going to happen next and I knew it was right and it was healing for him and it was oneness. It was good. He was my husband. But I wanted to run away.
EMMA
The voice came to my ears from the other side of the pond. It was Sparrow’s “hello” like the chirp of a songbird. She walked out to the dock and waved at me. I looked up from my basket of wet clothes and waved back. I looked forward to seeing her several times a week. She had become a fixture to me already and it was only June. She seemed more familiar than someone I’d met not many weeks ago.
In that same amount of time, John had yet to speak to Johnny about the drinking that Mervin had tasked each parent to handle privately in hopes of quelling it. Johnny and the other young people were not baptized so a confession would not be required. Several nights each week he would be out late. It made me nervous, but John didn’t speak a word. Not to me or to our son.
His comments to Mervin about my visit to the Evanses’ had caused a greater chasm between us than ever before. He began to understand when he sipped the plain coffee I served him when we had company. Well into his too-sober, agitated state, his expression declared panic. Our stare lingered and I wanted him to know that I wouldn’t help him anymore.
While our life together had divided more than ever before, we had a rhythm to our days. Upon waking, he would take a quick swig from a bottle he thought was a secret—I was always already awake. He’d dress first, then through our open windows I’d hear the outhouse door creak and slap. Then I would ready myself. We did our chores in silence with little acknowledgment of each other.
We ate our breakfast quietly and then while Johnny hitched up the buggy, John disappeared into the basement. He always took his Bivell with him. However, his behavior blasphemed the holy Scriptures rather than blessed them. Johnny would get the lunches I’d packed for them the night before and wait in the buggy for his dat, and then they would leave. For most of the day I was alone.
If it was Monday, I did laundry. Then in order of the weekdays I ironed, mended clothes, cleaned, and baked. When someone was in need, I’d take in ironing, mending, or washing. It had been the same for as long as I could remember and the same for my mother who had been raised far away from this valley. This routine was the same at most Amish homes everywhere.
After work John and Johnny would clean up. We would have a quiet dinner, prayers, evening chores, and some time to sew or crochet. John would feign Bible reading or write a letter. Johnny retreated to his room or would slip out without a word. I would hear him return later when I lay awake in my dark bedroom. This was my life. It was set out before me like blocks and bricks.
But Sparrow.
She’d become the brightness in my gray.
These thoughts passed through my mind like fog as Sparrow tried to skip rocks across the calm pond. Her efforts were in vain. She gave up and ran down the dock and then toward me. In that moment I saw my daughter. Our skin colors didn’t match, I wasn’t blind to that, but she was so much of what I’d always hoped for in a daughter. She was eager to learn. She had bright eyes and an eternal smile. She wanted to be around me. I think she loved me.
But instead of her hello I heard the words she had spoken weeks earlier.
“I killed him.”
It plagued me. But still the words had pulled me closer to her. Hadn’t I killed a handful of children—the ones I’d refused to conceive? Maybe if we’d had a house full of children John would’ve changed his ways. Maybe if I’d been the right kind of wife he wouldn’t despise me.
“Does your mother know you’re here?” I asked every week, though it was more to clear my conscience. She answered me the same each week. That her mother just wanted her out of her hair.
We didn’t talk much while we partnered to do laundry. Today I had extra loads for a family who had taken ill.
Sparrow and I worked for several hours and she was a good helper. When she used the wringer, her clothes were getting about as dried as my own. Then we hung everything out. I had never had such full lines. Walking through the rows of little-girl dresses in blues, browns, and greens pulled me away into a world that was not my own. In a moment would my little girls run through the yard with their giggles floating around them and beg for lemonade? I would always say yes. My imaginings always lived in sunshine.
“Ms. Emma?” Sparrow’s voice reminded me of my reality. None of these hung dresses belonged to me. Any daughter I might have had would never be. Would their souls just linger in some in-between world? How would God’s plan reconcile with my sin?
“Yes?” I replied to Sparrow.
“Why don’t you got more children?”
I had considered that Sparrow was able to read my thoughts before now. Or that she at least sensed my feelings. Her sensitivity somehow understood how my mind worked. What I didn’t know was if she would know when I lied.
“We need to trust God’s will.” I waved for her to follow me into the house.
“Does God decide who lives and dies then?”
I didn’t know. “Are you thinking about your brother?”
Our eyes locked.
“Does God decide who lives and dies?”
I couldn’t stop hearing the question in my head. It went from her songbird voice and changed into mine. From her asking me to me asking God. I wished I knew the answer to her question. The answer to my question. Abel died. Cain lived. Job’s children died. Job lived. All of creation died. Noah and his family lived.
My baby died. I lived.
I wanted to ask her how her brother died, but I didn’t. Wouldn’t she tell me if she wanted me to know? But was she really to blame? Was that why Deedee wanted her out of her hair—because she blamed her for his death? If I knew how Carver had died, would I lay the blame on her also?
The house inside was as humid as the outdoors. I went to the mudroom and retrieved the lemonade from the refrigerator. My heart was in conflict. I wanted to be with Sparrow, but I didn’t want to be near her questions. I didn’t like what they aroused. These questions I’d pushed away, thrown out, and buried years ago. Who did I blame for the death of my daughter? John? Myself? God? I supposed I blamed all of us. My willful barrenness proved that.
“Why did God choose Carver to die instead of me? Was it to punish me because I was with—?” She stopped talking.
I turned toward her. She stood in the doorway between the mudroom and the kitchen with her brown eyes so wide and questioning. Maybe her coming so much wasn’t the best idea. My stomach was swirling now.
We walked back into the kitchen—Sparrow at my heels—and she stood close to me when I put the lemonade pitcher down and opened the cabinet for two cups. The
short moments felt so long and my mind thrummed with her questions.
Yes, I believed God was punishing me. I’d done so much to be punished for.
“I don’t know. But I know that God loves you.” I’d never said that before. Not to my son or any person. Not to myself. Did I believe it? Of course I believed that God loved Sparrow. I wasn’t as sure if He loved me, however. Didn’t think He could—and I added John to that as well.
“Daddy says the same thing.” She smiled at me and took the lemonade I handed her. She took a sip and when she was done swallowing, she started talking again. “Mama don’t say nothing to me no more.”
Still air mutes the voice of nature.
Wind without a song.
Water without breath.
“John doesn’t speak to me anymore either,” I wanted to say, but I didn’t.
DELILAH
I was in Coleman’s Grocery inspecting how our bananas had turned brown. Mr. Coleman wasn’t asking much for them and banana bread did sound good—but so did a yellow banana. The white section had a good selection of bananas. I thought that Mr. Coleman’s daughter and the Carter boy may be what made him care less about what was put in our section. His produce had been so good since our move.
“Banana bread?” Granny Winnie said with a wink and a giggle. She’d asked me on Sunday to help her grocery shop. Her vision was getting worse. Of course I said I’d help.
She said that Marlene couldn’t come into the grocery right now because of Kenny.
“You want some tomatoes, Granny?” I pointed.
“Gimme three nice ripe ones,” her little voice said.
I picked the three best ones and put them in my grocery buggy when the butcher barreled in. He was a huge man and after one visit, I was done with him. Malachi did the meat buying after that. He was tough-speaking to everyone in his store. He was not unkind, but he scared me something awful. Malachi said his name was Butch, which suited him, of course.
“Carl,” Butch yelled. “Carl.”
Malachi came out from the back and looked around a little. His gaze told me to be cautious and keep an eye out. Butch yelled a few more times.
Granny grabbed my hand. “That Butch? Sounds mad.”
“Yeah, that’s Butch.”
The half a dozen women in the produce section all stopped and looked toward the booming voice.
“Butch?” Carl came from the back of the store where he had an office and seemed as confused as the rest of us.
“You better get down to the station,” Butch said between deep breaths, loud enough for everyone in the market to hear.
“Did he say station?” Granny asked. “Oh no.”
“Yes.”
Butch started toward the door and pulled Carl’s sleeve, urging him to follow.
“They found your Shirley with that colored boy again,” Butch said as he and Carl turned to leave. “They want to go find him. He ran off.”
“I don’t want him hurt. I just want him to leave Shirley alone,” Carl said as he left.
“If they catch him, they’ll hurt him,” Butch said.
I kept myself from speaking or even sighing so as not to draw any attention to us. “Stuff happen like this a lot around here?”
“Now and again something starts stirring up stuff between everybody. Not often.” Granny kept her hand on my arm and gripped tightly. “Last time it was something about a job at the mill, and the time before that it was because the clinic saw a black child ahead of a white woman.” She shook her head. “It’s always something.”
She paused for a moment. “This ain’t good though. And it’s my great-grandson.”
All the white ladies were watching me and Granny. We didn’t have anything to do with this, but that didn’t matter. Malachi rolled the cart over and whispered to us, “You should go.”
“What? We ain’t done.”
“Go straight home.” Malachi didn’t give me a chance to say nothing and rolled his cart off. He didn’t look at the white ladies around us or even me but just did the job he was paid for.
At that moment I understood and did as I was told. Granny had her arm linked through mine, and after I put the produce back, I led her through the canned good aisle and out. As we walked to my truck, anyone who was on the sidewalks looked at us.
“Get out of town,” a man snarled at us outside the diner. He used another word a moment later and my ears stung.
“Just keep walking,” Granny said. “Lord loves them just like He loves us.”
I got Granny in the truck and ran around the other side and locked the door as soon as I was inside. I leaned my head against the steering wheel.
“I heard that Kenny got a shine on this girl, but this all sounds a little more serious than that.”
“I told Kenny many times to leave Shirley be. But he does love her and she loves him back.”
“So this Shirley girl wants him back?”
Granny Winnie nodded and got a sadness in her eyes.
I wanted to judge Marlene Carter over this because she was always so high and mighty. Now her boy would make things harder for the whole colored community in town. It wasn’t right that they were after him for nothing illegal, but that wasn’t no surprise. It wasn’t right that her boy was bringing so much trouble to us.
When we got to the house, Granny grabbed my phone and without even asking me she told Marlene to come on over. I didn’t want Marlene to come on over.
“Marlene’s gonna need us now.”
“Us?”
“I’m her granny and raised that girl. You her reverend’s wife— yes, us.”
The back door started rattling like it was going to be pounded through. Granny and I both jumped and before I got over to the door Kenny came tearing in.
“What you doing here?” I spilled out.
“Reverend said I could hide out in the basement.” His eyes were wild. “Just for the night.”
“Get your butt down there, boy.” He listened to his granny and moved like the devil was chasing him.
“What’s going on, Mama?” Mallie asked.
“Nothing,” I lied. “You take the other two outside and play.”
He knew I was serious and they left. I didn’t know where Sparrow was, and if she wasn’t upstairs in her room she was in the woods. Didn’t know what she spent all her time with in there.
“Oh, Granny,” Marlene said and I turn around to find her walking through my front door. Then five other ladies came in with her—none of them knocked. Whose house was this? She didn’t even know that her boy was in the basement and Granny gave me a little head shake. Better Marlene didn’t know. If she was asked, she wouldn’t have to lie. All the ladies were sitting around her in the living room like hens. Consoling her and praising the Lord that the white men hadn’t found Kenny.
“Deedee,” Granny said. “What you thinking about all this?”
All the ladies stopped tittering and turned to me. A heavy silence filled up all the leftover spaces of our little house. The kind nobody liked or could lift away. I wanted to be a little mad at that old lady for putting me on the spot like that, but she was a hundred—she was allowed to say just about whatever she wanted.
“Y’all should send him away to kin someplace else—far from here. Get that girl out of his head.”
A collective hum and raised eyebrows told me that many of the ladies agreed with me. Maybe they were good ladies, even though I hadn’t gotten to know them.
“I can’t send my boy away for doing nothing wrong—nothing against the law.” Marlene cried harder.
I lowered my chin to my chest. “Well, you gonna have to give him up one way or another as I see it. Problems like this makes it real hard for the rest of us. Or you can send him away—to an aunt or something—and he can find a nice, good colored girl to love and let him move on with his life.” I said this like I got wisdom to share, but I knew better. I wasn’t wise. Look at the mess with Sparrow. Maybe I could just be wise about somebody else�
�s kids.
“But I wouldn’t see him. I don’t want him to move away.”
“It’s better’n jail—or worse,” I reminded.
We all knew what worse meant and down south we just saw it more than maybe they did up here. Marlene didn’t acknowledge anything more from me, and Granny left with her and the other ladies within an hour. But here I was left with Kenny in the basement and waiting for Malachi to come home from work. I knew how this sort of stuff went. One colored person do something white folks don’t like, but all of us could pay for it at any time. Even if we got nothing to do with it.
After a few more hours went by my gaze didn’t leave the window, watching for Malachi. He usually took the truck in, but because I needed it today he would have to walk home. I didn’t like the idea of that. I thought about how I could go get him myself, but I got dinner cooking on the stove and in the oven. I couldn’t leave.
I didn’t want the children to know I was worried so I tried to act normal. Which for me, lately, was to keep my distance—even from my own kids. I realized this more as I made an effort not to let them see how agitated I was.
Of course, stuff was different down south. Nat King Cole had been attacked on his own stage in April. He was just minding his own business playing a concert. And in Montgomery if a colored boy walked in the wrong nice neighborhood, there might be police escorting him away fast. At the very least there would be strong language telling him where he could go. I got real roughed up once by some white girls when I accidentally bumped their shoulders passing them by. I never made that mistake again.
Sinking Creek was a lot smaller than Montgomery though. Maybe it wasn’t as dangerous as a large city. It was in the North too. Things were safer up here and I was glad for that. But it didn’t mean I wasn’t worried for my husband.
The kids were watching TV—even Sparrow. Should I stop dinner cooking on the stove and go find Malachi? He should’ve been home by now. Then he came inside real fast like. I left the kitchen and ran over to him and threw myself into his arms. When he held me, it almost felt like old times.
The Solace of Water Page 17