Under the Sassafras

by Hattie Mae

“The school bus was in a accident on the bridge over Whiskey Bay, but you're all right.

  “I remember the bus sliding, and the other children were crying and screaming. I don't think I screamed, Mommy. I just laid down on the seat and waited.”

  “Don't think about it right now. Try to get some rest.” Joelette's heart broke thinking about how scared all the children were. How scared T-Boy must have been.

  “Did everybody die in the accident? How did I get here?”

  “No darling. No one died. Mansir and Possum saved all of you. Mansir wouldn't stop looking until he found you in between some seats. He saved your life, T-Boy.”

  “I don't remember what happened after I laid down. Is this how it feels for Mansir not to remember?”

  She knew the tears flowed freely now, but she hoped T-Boy was too tired to notice. “Shush, now, you will tire yourself out.” Joelette ran her fingers over her son's soft cheek.

  “My knight. I lost my knight.” T-Boy tried to sit up.

  Looking for what Mansir left on T-Boys bed, she found the small wooden object. “Here it is.” Joelette put the small-carved knight in her son's hand. “Mansir saved him too. Now lie still.”

  “He's a real live hero, isn’t he, Mom? And he belongs to us.” T-Boy closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

  ”Yes, he is, my darling, a real live hero.” Joelette sat back down at her son's bedside. “But he doesn't belong to us. Not any more,” she whispered.

  ###

  After twenty-two hours at the hospital, exhausted and emotionally drained, Mansir and Joelette went home.

  Joelette broke the silence. “I can't thank you enough for all you have done. I can never repay you.”

  “Don't, Joelette. I owe you more, you could have just left me in the swamp. Or at the doctor’s office, but you didn’t, you took me in. Besides, the field has a few more days of work.” He looked at the sky. “The clouds have lifted and the ground will soon be dry. Possum said he would come over and lend a hand. By this time next week, we will have those beans in the ground.”

  “Now who's talking nonsense? We both know that since your interview with the local press, and it was picked up nationally, it is just a matter of time.” Feeling the tears once again start to form, she turned her head toward the window.

  Mansir sat in silence.

  “Someone will see your picture and come for you. You don't have much time.”

  “Joelette, I . . .”

  “Don't. We both knew that you were here for only a little while. It's time, Mansir. Time to know who you are, and who you’re tied to with that ring.”

  He sighed heavily. “You’re right. I do need to know. I want to know.” He put his head down. “Doesn’t explain why I’m so unhappy.”

  “It's always hard to tell friends goodbye.” The tears fell out of her control.

  “All of you are more to me than friends. You're my family,” Mansir's voice broke. “Even Possum,” he added with a sad chuckle.

  Joelette could tell he also had to choke back tears.

  She wiped her tears on the back of her hand. “We will be home soon and Ozamae can’t see us sad. It's going to be hard enough when he has to know.”

  Mansir nodded and they road in silence the rest of the way.

  Ozamae ran to meet the truck. “How's T-Boy today? Did he get to eat ice cream for breakfast? When is he coming home?”

  “Slow down, son.” The word seemed to hang in Mansir's throat.

  Joelette pulled Ozamae to her unhinging him from Mansir. “Let go of Mansir's leg and give him a chance to freshen up. T-Boy is doing great. He might get to come home by the end of the week.” She ruffled his hair. “And where did you get the idea of ice cream for breakfast?”

  “When Martha Sue went to the hospital she got to eat ice cream for breakfast,” Ozamae said. “Can I wait for Mansir in my room?”

  “Yes, I’ll call you, I promise,” Joelette said.

  MaeMae motioned for her to sit beside her on the porch.

  “MaeMae, it's going to be so hard to see him leave. I should never have given into my feelings for him. This is why I didn't want to become attached to another man.”

  “He's not gone yet,” MaeMae said. “Who knows? Maybe nobody will claim him. The main thing to remember is that he's not just another man. He's Mansir. And you're not the only one that loves him.”

  Joelette saw the red-rimmed eyes of her beloved mother-in-law. “I got so wrapped up in my feelings I forgot that someone else might be hurting too. I know you care for him.”

  “Like a son.” MaeMae blew her nose on one of the hankies she kept stuffed inside her sleeve. “Just like a son.”

  “The doctor said that T-Boy would be good as new in a couple of months.” Joelette sat back in the chair and propped her feet up on a stool. “He's so lucky, MaeMae. If Mansir hadn't come along when he did, I shudder to think what might have happened. Anybody else and they wouldn’t have known he was still there on that bus.”

  “You're right. I knew Mansir was here for a reason and maybe T-Boy's it.” MaeMae sat straighter and looked at Joelette. “So we should stop our pity party.”

  “Right. Nothing is going to happen tonight to dampen that joy. Let's make use of the moment,” Joelette said as Ozamae and Mansir walked out onto the porch hand in hand.

  “Mansir when I'm T-Boy's age will you make me a chess set like his and teach me to play?” Ozamae asked.

  The knot in Joelette's stomach grew so large she thought she would choke. He won't be here, baby. She wanted to scream the words.

  “I hope so, son,” Mansir answered.

  Joelette knew with every cell in her body that Mansir was in as much pain as she was and it took all his strength to say those words.

  ###

  “Excuse me sir, could you tell me where I might be able to find the Benoit house? The man at the Wag-A-Bag told me to follow this road, but I've been down it twice, and I can't seem to find any house.”

  Possum opened one eye, then the other. Standing in front of him was a dream. A tall woman with hair so red it looked as if it were on fire. Allowing his eyes to follow her body down, his mouth flew open. Lord, her legs, went on forever and hung loose out of white shorts. The sun shown behind her and formed a halo around her head preventing her facial features from being visible. Her bell-like voice hypnotized him.

  “Do you speak English?” she asked.

  “Oui, I mean yes.” He struggled to a sitting position on his hammock, he had to steady himself from falling to the deck of the boat. “Now what did you ask me?”

  “The Benoit house? Do you know where I can find the Benoit house?” This time her voice was louder and much slower.

  “Listen, I don't think I'm so well today. I need a drink. Want something? I'll tell you where you can find the place you are searching for, after you answer some questions for me.”

  “A bottled water would be nice, thank you,” she said.

  He poured a cup of his famous thick coffee for himself and fetched a water from the fridge for the lady.

  The redhead stood where he'd left her. Possum stopped in the door of his houseboat and watched, as she looked his boat over. He heard a strange humming coming from her lips.

  “Sorry I’m having a time finding my shoes. My manners, you’d think I left them in the barn.” Possum followed the stare of her eyes to his mid section. Was his fly open? Had he forgot to zip his pants? A nervous twitch developed in one eye. Possum could hear his heart beat in his temples. He was falling apart piece by piece, all because of this woman.

  “Excuse me for staring, sir,” she said.

  Here it comes. She’d tell him to zip up or that he had a big glob of something staining his shirt. Blood rushed to Possum's face, as he waited for what she had to say. He watched as she tilted her head to the side.

  “Are you drinking espresso?”

  “What?” Possum's voice at lease an octave higher. “What did you say?”

  She pointed at the
clear glass cup he held filled with coffee and answered. “Is that espresso?” Her speech was deliberately slow, as if speaking to a doodling old man.

  “Lord, I swear I am of good mind. I know you can’t tell it, can you?” he asked with a chuckle. “This is my coffee, thick and strong, would you like a cup?”

  “I’m in a real big hurry, could I have it to go?” She sat in the chair and crossed her long thin legs. Possum watched, as it appeared to happen in slow motion.

  She made noises of pleasure as she drank the coffee no one else in the Parish would touch. She'd won his soul.

  “My name is Possum, but you can call me Raymond.” He held out his hand after wiping it on his pants leg. “Now tell me again, who are you looking for?” He found his shoes under his hammock and started putting them on.

  “Hello Raymond. My name is Sara. I'm looking for my brother, William. The police in town said I could find him at the Benoit house. I really need to see him.”

  Possum sat on the edge of his chair and ran his hand through his hair. “Your brother?” Peering at her he began to grin. “Now I see it. The hair color is different, and your eyes are green where his are blue, but the height and smile are the same.” Slapping his leg he said. “Damn, Mansir has a sister. Does he know? No, how would he know? He has no memory.”

  “Who is Mansir? Do you know my brother? If you know where he is could you tell me how to get there? When I saw him on television I couldn't believe it was William. He looked so good. Please, I need to see him and touch him to see for myself he is alright.”

  “Mansir is what we call him around here. What did you call him?”

  “William. William Lee Matherson to be exact. You said he doesn't remember. Anything?” She reached up and tried to secure an unruly curl that bobbed in her face. A deep frown covered her forehead. “How well do you know him?”

  “Wow, that's quite an impressive name. Mansir, I mean, William and I are good friends. We shrimp together, drink together, and work together. We even save lives together. He's quite a guy. Tell me more about him while we go to your car and I'll take you to him.”

  “Where do I start? William is five years older than I am and has always taken care of me. Not that I needed taking care of, you understand. He's just always been there.” She drank the rest of her coffee. “We grew up in southern California with loving parents, who are both deceased. He's the CEO for a very large computer company. Can I tell you more in the car? I'm really anxious to get to him.”

  Possum couldn't remember where to put the cup she handed him so he threw it onto the hammock. A CEO to a computer company, Mansir was different than they thought.

  “Is he rich?” Possum couldn't believe those words fell out of his mouth.

  “Very rich. Why? Do you think you need a reward?” she asked with a chuckle.

  Blood rushed to Possum's face, but this time out of anger instead of embarrassment. “Now listen here, Missy. I, for one, don't believe you can put money in the mouth of friendship. Besides, what would I want with money? I already have everything I need right here.” Possum waved his arms as if to embrace his beloved houseboat.

  Her brows rose, but her smile never wavered.

  “Let's go, I can't wait to see you tell Mansir, I mean William. It’s going to be hard to call him William, he’s just always been Mansir to me.” Possum climbed in beside Sara in the front seat of the rental, a Jeep. “Did you choose this vehicle?”

  “Yes, I drive one like it back home.” Sara let a smile loose and Possum thought he’d gone deaf. “Has William been happy here? Is the family he's living with nice?” She asked.

  Possum grinned and looked into Sara's incredible green eyes. No wonder Mansir watched out for her. She was the type of woman every man wanted to protect. Wisps of fuzzy red hair blew around her pixie face. “I think you might be surprised to see how happy William is with the Benoit family.”

  “Oh Raymond, I've been so worried about him. I thought he might have been kidnapped, or ran off the road somewhere and died in his car by himself. I’ve been looking for him, but I’d have never thought to look for him here.”

  Possum never took his eyes off of Sara as he heard the hurt and fear in her voice.

  “I put ads in the newspapers, hired private detectives. And the nightmares, I can't begin to tell you about them. He's all I have and I thought I'd lost him.” She hit her hands on the steering wheel. “What was he doing way over here?” Sara swerved off the road almost landing them in a ditch.

  “You want me to drive? I think you’re too upset to be driving,” Possum asked through gritted teeth.

  “I’m making you nervous, right? William never lets me drive when he's in the car. He says I make him nervous. I've had a few accidents, none of them my fault.” Sara said, the jeep’s right wheels scraped on the gravel shoulder of the road.

  “Slow down, Cher, or you'll miss your turn. Turn right at that mail box.” Possum's knuckles were white as he gripped the back of her seat. “You are some crazy driver, lady.”

  They drove up the driveway. The sun had mostly set behind the Benoit's house. The porch was free of people, but a warm glow peeked out from the kitchen and living room windows.

  “I wonder what this house will see tonight: sadness or joy?” Possum said.

  “Joy, I think,” Sara said. She gasped softly. “Listen. That’s William. Laughing. I don't recall the last time I've heard him laugh out loud.” She wiped the tears from her eyes.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A loud knock at the front door stilled the laughter.

  “I'll get it I'm closer,” Mansir said.

  As the door opened a wiry redhead flew onto Mansir's chest. Long thin arms wrapped around his neck. Sobs and muffled words came from her mouth.

  Pulling her arms loose he held the women at arm length.

  “Sara?” Mansir felt his eyes widen with surprise.

  “William, you know who I am,” she said, both laughing and crying.

  “Sara, how did you get here? Did you come alone?”

  “I brought her. Isn't this great?” Possum said, stepping out from behind Sara.

  “Sara, I can't believe it. You're here.” Then it dawned on him. His sister. He remembered his sister. And his name. His name was William Matherson.

  “Mansir, why don't we all go sit and you can tell us who this young woman is,” MaeMae said.

  Mansir turned to find Joelette. She was standing with her hand on Ozamae's shoulder, hurt and confusion in her eyes.

  “Of course. Let's go into the living room.” He held Sara’s hand all the way to the sofa. “Sit here.” He didn’t want to take his eyes off her but he also wanted to reassure Joelette so he continued to stand.

  “Everyone, this is Sara Matherson, my sister.” Words began to stack up in his throat, causing Mansir to swallow hard. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the palms of his hand glistened with moisture, and his whole body shook. “I remember. Things are coming so fast that some are still fuzzy, but I remember. My name is William. I remember my name. How about that?

  “Do we have to stop calling you Mansir now that you 'member' your name? Do we call you William, sir?” Ozamae stood in front of William with his small hands on his hips.

  “That's right, Ozamae, you can call me by my real name now.” He knelt and gathered the small boy close to him, he whispered, “But you can still call me Mansir when you forget and I’ll always love that name because you gave it to me.”

  He hugged Mansir's neck so hard both of them tumbled to the floor. Ozamae giggled and sat on his lap as they settled upright.

  “This is remarkable. How did you find me? What made you look for me here?” Mansir asked.

  “I've never stopped looking for you. It's been very hard. I saw you on the news and I came as fast as I could, not knowing what I would find.” Sara looked around the room. “Thank you all for taking care of my brother.”

  MaeMae came over and held out her hand to Sara. “People call me MaeMae. Why don
't you stay with us a couple of days so you and William, was it, can catch up? Give him a little time for his memory to catch up with him. We have plenty of room, if you don't mind bunking in with your brother.”

  “That’s very kind, but I don't want to put you out. However, this has been a long day and I would like a chance to get to know the kind people William has been living with. Thank you.”

  “My name is Joelette.” She stepped forward toward Sara. “Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner. This is all a shock to us. This is my youngest son, Ozamae. I will excuse myself as well and take this young man to his room.”

  “That’s not necessary, Joelette, you can stay in here with us. Please don't feel like you need to leave.” Mansir caught hold of Joelette's arm.

  “Why not? You’ll be leaving soon, right?” Joelette whispered. She turned away from him. “Possum, do you need a ride home?”

  “No, but I get the hint. It's a great night for a walk. Why don't you put Ozamae to bed and you can walk a little way with me? These two have much to talk about.”

  “Sounds good to me. Come along, son. Tomorrow's another day and we have to get up early to see T-Boy. Say your good nights.”

  “Mom, I have much to talk about too. I want to talk to Sara about her hair. Please, just a little while?”

  Sara got down from the sofa and sat on the floor next to him and Ozamae. “Maybe you can ask me one question tonight and save up the others for tomorrow? Is that alright with you, Joelette?” Sara looked up at Joelette for permission.

  “One question, and please do be polite.” Joelette smiled at her son.

  “I will, Mom. How old are you? Have you always been his sister?” He pointed to William. “Why does your hair stick out all over?”

  “Ozamae those are not polite questions and remember you get just one.” Joelette's face blushed.

  “Since you asked all of those in one breath I will try to answer as many as I can in one breath. I'm 31. Yes I've always been his sister. And I have naturally curly hair that does not respond well to humidity. How's that?” Sara asked. She gulped in a breath.

  “I like you,” Ozamae said. “You're nice just like my Mansir. Goodnight.” He planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. Then he fell into Mansir's outstretched arms and planted a long kiss on his cheek. “Love you more.” Ozamae called out skipping toward his room.