Under the Sassafras

by Hattie Mae

  It struck her in that moment that though she claimed she couldn’t, she did trust a man. She trusted Possum. She knew his word was solid. If she could trust one, did that mean there was room for her to trust another? She shoved the thought aside. Joelette observed the sadness in Possum's weathered face. Such a kind face, she hated being the cause of pain in those eyes.

  “Possum, I meant what I said. You do deserve the best and someone will come. I'm not that someone, but I would be honored to continue to be your friend, if you will have me.”

  “Of course we'll be friends.” He was quiet a moment, then added. “You know I think I’ve run out of single women.” The old familiar crooked grin returned to his face, but his eyes told the story. Sadness pulled his eyelids down as they tried to shield the truth. He was lonely.

  She and MaeMae were going to have to include him in more things.

  “Don't give up. I always heard when you least expect meeting that someone, that's when they will walk right in your path.”

  “I've decided to stop looking. For a day or two anyway.” He laughed. The look on his face became serious. “Tell me, Joelette, I know that man staying at your house isn’t your cousin. Who is he? I might be uneducated but I’m not dumb.”

  Her face flushed and she cleared her throat. “Alright I'm going to tell you a secret, but please keep it to yourself. To protect his privacy.”

  Possum nodded his head.

  “A while back, T-Boy, Ozamae and I were gathering herbs in the swamp at the edge of the Basin. It was early in the morning and foggy. The boys called me over to see what they had found, and there he lay all covered in mud and insect bites. Blood caked his clothes from his head wound. I was surprised to find him still alive, but unconscious.”

  Remembering that morning made her stomach lurch, sending bile into her throat. “May I have some water, Possum?”

  “No wonder I'm still single, I have no manners. Is it too early for a cold beer or would you rather have a cola?”

  “I think a cola would feel better on my stomach.”

  She watched Possum open the beer and cola. Then he tried to smooth the wrinkles from a wadded paper napkin he removed from his pocket before offering it to her.

  “The boys and I worked long and hard getting him into the bed of the truck. I was scared, Possum, I thought he would die. We may never know how he got there or how long he lay on those banks. There was no car or car tracks. Nothing to give us a clue of who he is or what happened.”

  “Why didn't you send T-Boy after me? I could have helped. The man is lucky an alligator didn't eat him.”

  “I don't know why I didn't send for help.” She shook her head. “All I could think of was getting him to MaeMae. Together we cleaned and doctored his bites. MaeMae put a poultice on a terrible knot on his forehead. Since he was in shock and unconscious, she thought we shouldn't move him. I wanted to take him to the hospital, but she thought he wouldn't make it that far. We tried to call Dr. Adams but he was out of state.”

  Joelette took a long sip. “He didn't wake up for two days. When he did, he couldn't remember who he was. The next day I took him over to Dr. Adams in Lafayette. We even waved at you that morning as we passed.”

  “What do you mean, he don’t know who he is?” Possum shifted in his chair.

  “I mean he doesn’t know his name, where he came from or anything about his past. Doc Adams said he has amnesia. He didn't have anywhere to go, Possum, and MaeMae said it was our duty to let him stay until he remembered. Doc Adams said his memory would return in small spurts or not at all. Pieces of his past are returning, but it’s very slow.”

  “Whew. I can't imagine not knowing my name or where I belong. That's scary shit. I'm so sorry, Joelette, my tongue knows better than to say words like that in front of you.” Possum stood and walked around. Joelette could hear him muttering French to himself. “Why do you call him Mansir?” He turned and sat back down in his chair.

  “Ozamae gave him that name and it stuck. He had the clothes on his back when we found him. I gave him some of Otis's underwear and personal items, but he's so big I had to make him a couple of shirts. He has no means to buy things he needs, and I can't pay him for his work. I feel bad for him all the time. Possum, he has the saddest look on his face when he doesn't think anybody is looking. He looks so lost.”

  Joelette drank the rest of her cola and stared at the bottle in her hand. “He’s helped around the house. You know things like loose boards on the porch, patched some of the tin on the roof, he even repaired MaeMae's beloved rocker.” She smiled as she remembered the things Mansir did for everyone in her family. “You should see him when he tutors T-Boy in math. He's very educated, and T-Boy is learning so much. I know he’s a good man, Possum.”

  “I could tell he'd never worked a field before, but he sure knows how to work hard.” He placed his hands on his knees, and looked Joelette in the eyes and grinned. “I like him, Joelette. And he must be a good man if he can put up with you and MaeMae mothering him and Ozamae's endless questions. I might be able to help him with his finances. Send him over tonight. That poor man needs his own things, if nothing else, his own underwear.”

  Joelette stepped lighter going home. She would make sure that she and MaeMae invited Possum over for supper once a week. He was indeed a good friend. It felt good to tell someone about Mansir. She knew tongues wagged in town, but who cared? With Possum's help, maybe Mansir would find his place, even if it wasn’t in her world.

  She put her hand over her heart and tried to slow the fast beat. What if his place wasn't in her world? At what moment had her feelings of sympathy grown to something more?

  Her fingers caressed her lips. She could still feel his lips on hers as if his lips had just left. Joelette stopped and stood on the road toward her house.

  Was she falling in love with him? And if she was, was it such a bad thing? MaeMae, Possum and the boys sure loved him, why couldn’t she?

  No! What was she thinking? This man could never be free until his past caught up with him. She would not let herself fall in love with him. If she loved him, she knew that when he left, she would break. She simply couldn’t take one more heartbreak.

  Lord, she was just as hopeless as Possum. Always wanting something she couldn’t have.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I know I’m an early riser but this time puts a new meaning on early.” Mansir yelled above the deafening roar of the boat's motor. “Is this the time you go shrimping every time?”

  “Yes. We need to get to the best spot before the other shrimpers arrive, and that means getting up at the crack of dawn. Drink this coffee; it's hot and strong.” He shoved a thermos in Mansir’s hand. “I've been told a spoon could stand by itself in my coffee.”

  Possum returned the lid to his own thermos and adjusted the lights on the boat. “Wait until we pull up that first trawl full of critters. That’ll wake you up.” Possum's teeth gleamed in the light through his broad smile.

  Mansir felt the hair stand up on his neck as he took a swig of Possum's coffee. “Man, this stuff is lethal. It would wake the dead.” He glanced at the huge nets. “What kind of critters do you catch in these enormous nets besides shrimp?”

  “If we were in the gulf there’d be no telling what we’d catch. Someday I'll take you and maybe we'll even catch a shark. But today we'll bring in crabs, gar, other kinds of fish, a turtle or two and maybe a big mouth tay-tah.”

  “A big mouth what?” Mansir asked. “Are you talking about some kind of alligator or are you pulling my leg?”

  “Man, you're easy, bet now you’re awake. A big mouth tay-tah is the name we give something big in the waters around here that can't be identified. Someone will see a large fin or a giant eye and that’ll be the start of a new tale.”

  They lowered the trawl, as the sun peeked over the horizon, sending a small beam of light across the water to the boat.

  “We'll make a drag and see if the shrimp are running,” Possum said. “I n
eed a good catch, and today might be the day.” Possum sat on a seat bolted to the boat and looked out over the water. “What's it like, man?” He turned and looked at Mansir from under the rim of his old hat. “If you don't want to talk about your condition, I'll understand.”

  Mansir frowned. “I guess Joelette told you.” He shrugged and took another drink of the so-called coffee. “If you're asking about my amnesia, I don’t think of it as a condition.” He thought for a way to describe his problem. “It’s scary, I won’t lie about that. But man, sometimes I feel like I'm right there, so close to remembering everything I could touch it and the truth is, that scares me more.”

  “Why would remembering scare you? Don't you want to know who you are and why you‘re here?”

  “Of course, more than anything. But what if something bad happened in my past that makes me ashamed of who I am?” He released a chuckle. “Makes me sound like a wimp, doesn't it?”

  “I'm not here to cast shadows, Mansir. I never walked in your shoes, but I’ll say this. Don't be afraid what you might have hidden. Nothing could be worse than not knowing.” Possum motioned to Mansir as he walked to the edge of the boat. “Help me pull in the net before it's too heavy.”

  As soon as they dumped the trawl on the culling board Possum's expert hands flew into action. Mansir watched in awe.

  Crabs crawled off the table and were soon all over the boat. Fish flopped and jumped. Some so hard they landed back into the water. Strange creatures blinked their cloudy eyes at him.

  “We have to work fast and throw the trawl back in for another drag. These shrimp are a little small, good for gumbo, but they won't sell. I'm thinking their big brothers are also in this spot and they will sell. Come on, dig in man you're wearing gloves. Nothing here will bite, much.”

  Mansir soon got the hang of which bins to throw the catch. He worked hard as he could to keep up with Possum. Mud mixed with slime splattered their faces. Sometimes crabs would grab hold of his glove or a strange looking fish would cause him to draw back, but he kept going. Mansir felt useful and alive.

  Several large flat fish sporting two eyes on the same side flopped on the board. “Are these keepers? They look familiar. Mansir held one up to show Possum.

  “That's a flounder. The best fish you can stuff and bake. I'll keep a couple and you can bring the others to Joelette.”

  Mansir turned the fish over. It’s back was covered in blood. Flounder. Why did he see a rash associated with that name? “Are you sure they are good to eat? It seems to me I heard they cause a rash.”

  “If you are allergic to them I guess they might.”

  A flash of the back of a shapely blonde floated across Mansir's mind. And that fast, it was gone.

  “I knew someone allergic to flounder, but I can't remember who.” Still holding the fish, he sat down on the old wooden deck chair and stared at the fish. The blood he thought he’d seen had vanished.

  “Who is she? My girlfriend? My mother, or my wife? None of those feel right,” he said.

  Mansir spoke more to himself than to Possum.

  Possum hunched over and peered into Mansir's eyes and whispered. “Are you remembering something now?”

  Mansir looked at Possum's comical face streaked with mud and wonderment. “I was, but it's gone, and you don't have to whisper. You can't scare the memory away. It's just another tiny piece in my large puzzle.”

  Possum let out the breath he was holding. “I sure didn't want to mess you up. We need to get this trawl back in the water, then you can tell me what you remembered.”

  He reached down and took the flounder out of Mansir's hand. “I know this one's a beauty, but you need to either kiss it or put it in the bin. We got work to do.”

  “I think I'm connected to a blonde lady, but I can't see her face.” As he retold the flash of memory to Possum, he tried to focus on the woman's face, but to no avail.

  The next three drags produced plenty of large shrimp. With each pull of the net Possum got more excited and the feeling spread to Mansir. It was fun to see what each catch held and time flew.

  Possum leaned back and stretched his back. “Man, you are as red as a boiled crab, when did you take off your shirt?”

  “When you did,” Mansir answered.

  “My skin, my friend, is used to the sun, not your pale skin. I think we better call it a day. I have at least two hundred pounds of seafood to sell. You are a hard worker, Mansir. Bien, thank you, my friend.”

  Possum paid Mansir generously for the day's work. As he walked back to Joelette's home, he felt like a whole man.

  As he turned into the yard, Ozamae ran to meet him. “Did you catch any shrimp? What about a shark? Did you catch a shark? Your face hurt? Sure is red.”

  Mansir picked up Ozamae and carried him to the house. “You are a chatterbox. Did you have a fun day?”

  “Yes I did, but I sure did miss you.”

  “Oh you did, did you? Well I missed you, too.”

  Joelette met them on the porch. “He's been asking when you were coming in for the last three hours.” She reached up and took Ozamae from Mansir. “You must be hungry. If I know Possum, all he brings on that boat is the sludge he passes off as coffee and some boiled eggs.” She eyed him up and down. “My goodness you are sunburned. Take your shower and after you eat I'll put some of MaeMae’s cure all on that burn.”

  Mansir hurt in places he never knew could hurt. His face and neck felt like they were on fire, and he was tired to the bone, to coin a phrase Joelette used. But today, he had made money. Today, he realized that if his memory never came completely back, he could survive in this wild land.

  ###

  Mansir stood on the front porch. His long arms stretched out to brace his stance. Joelette watched as he leaned against the frame at the end of the steps. His size never ceased to amaze her. The bright red sunburn peeked out of his collar.

  “You better take off that shirt and let me put a good coat of this salve on that burn or you won't be able to sleep tonight.” Joelette set the large jar on the table.

  “I hope that's not all for me? I'll slide right out of the bed with all that goop.” He picked up the jar and sniffed the contents and winced. “That smells rank. I'll be fine without it.”

  Joelette pulled up a ladder back chair. “Stop being such a baby. Remove your shirt and sit.”

  Mansir pulled the shirt off and moaned in pain with the movement. “I guess I got more sun than I realized. I wouldn't be surprised if steam was escaping from my back.” He sat backwards in the chair with his head resting on his folded arms.

  Joelette scooped a handful of the salve onto Mansir's back and gently rubbed it in. Neither spoke. The warmth of his skin heated the salve, melting it on contact. Joelette watched as his taut muscles rippled under her fingers as she ran them up and down his back.

  “Are you alright, Joelette?” Mansir asked.

  “What?” Joelette removed her hands quickly. “Of course I'm alright.” She turned her attention to screwing the lid back on the jar and then dried her hands on the towel hanging at her waist. “Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

  Mansir flexed his back. “It's a little tight but not nearly as sore. You have the magic touch.”

  “I assure you I had nothing to do with the way you feel. The glory goes to the salve alone.” Joelette smiled.

  Mansir replaced his shirt. “Thank you. I better turn in Possum expects me back in the wee hours of the morning.” He squeezed her hand as he passed and whispered. “Goodnight, M'lady.”

  Joelette sat in MaeMae's chair holding the jar of salve. Her hand still felt the warmth of his skin.

  This man had a way of wiggling into one's heart. He'd won MaeMae's heart early and Ozamae had loved him from the first time they found him in the swamp. He was such an easy man to get along with, hard worker, kind and caring. Precisely the type of man she’d dreamed of finding when she’d been but a young girl. And then she’d met Otis.

  She laid her head back
and rocked. She tried to pinpoint when feelings for Mansir had changed. When she no longer feared him and when she recognized his gentle ways.

  Had things changed when she watched him help T-Boy with his homework? Or had it happened when the smile of pride crossed her son's face when the math problems finally clicked? Maybe it was being held in his arms as they waltzed across the American Legion Hall to Over The Waves. Perhaps when he first called her “M'lady. Such a silly way to address someone but it made her feel like she was a lady, his lady.

  Joelette sighed. Regardless of when or how her feelings for him had changed, she couldn't deny she did have feelings for this man. But feelings didn’t matter in situations like this. He would leave one day and she had to do everything she could to keep her family from falling apart when he did.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Mansir found MaeMae watching the news. “MaeMae, I think I remember Joelette saying I was wearing a jacket when they found me, do you know where she might have put it?”

  “Qui, have a seat and I’ll go get your jacket.”

  She returned with a garment neatly folded. “Joelette had this on the top of her sewing basket, ready to make like new. Are you sure you want it before she is finished?” MaeMae asked.

  Taking the unfamiliar jacket from MaeMae he searched the tears in the lining. “I will return it after I am finished helping Possum. The early mornings in that boat are chilly. Thanks MaeMae, I’m off to bed. Possum does like to get an early start.”

  He tossed the jacket on his bed and turned to get ready for bed when he heard something hit the floor right by his foot. Mansir watched as the gold shiny object rolled then wobbled in a circle before coming to a stand still.

  He bent and picked up the object and held it in his hand. A ring.

  A wedding ring.

  He let out the breath he’d been holding. He was married.