Black Bayou

by Beverly Sims

  She stepped out of the Jeep, never taking her eyes off the old woman. Billy's little voice asked if he could get out, too. She nodded and then started walking slowly toward Mrs. Atwater. “Where is he? Where is Mac?"

  Officer Moffett started to speak, but she held up her hand. “I am asking her, I am asking his grandmother. Where is he?"

  Mrs. Atwater straightened and met Ellen's stare. “Child, I have no idea where he is. I wish I did. James and Glenda are dead, so I am alone in the world. I would like Mac here with me as much as you would.” Ellen believed her.

  They all watched young Billy wander into the barn, returning with a kitten in his arms. “He looks lost, and I couldn't find his mama. I think he needs me to take care of him. Can I have him, Miss Ellen?"

  "He isn't mine to give. You need to ask Mrs. Atwater.” He was apprehensive but approached her with his request, then beamed when she nodded. Ellen turned to the police officers, all milling around. “Instead of standing here like a bunch of well-fed animals, why aren't you looking for Mac?” She turned, wrapping an arm around Billy, and returned to her vehicle.

  * * * *

  When everyone had gone, Mrs. Atwater stood. “Hitch up one of the horses to the wagon and bring all those boxes and crates to the barn. We are going to live there for while. We will need some chairs and a table, and do not forget my tea service. Did he pack any food?” Henry shook his head no. “Well, we can eat for weeks or longer from the jarred goods Glenda put by in the root cellar behind the barn and the things still growing in the garden. You will have to find some tea somewhere, but otherwise we will be fine. Now, get to it. There are only a couple hours of daylight left.” With that, she sat back down and watched the smoke rise from the ruins of her lifelong home. She felt no pain for the family she had lost, but she did hurt for the loss of her house ... and her tea.

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  Chapter 49

  The first thing was the odor ... the smell of a hospital. He tried to swallow and found it extremely painful. His hands were bandaged, all but his thumbs. He felt his neck with the thumbs and found it bandaged, too. He did not move, but simply lay there listening to the sounds of voices and trays and footsteps and an air conditioner vent overhead. No alligators, no ants, no muddy water. Heaven must feel like this, he thought, but he was not sure Heaven was his final destination, so he settled for the hospital.

  His doctor was his regular doctor, Chuck Dresden. Dr. Chuck, as his patients called him, had been the Atwater physician since he was a child. “Well, Mac Atwater, what the hell happened to you, my boy?” were his opening words. “Sheriff was here and will be back for the details, so don't try to talk right now, or move your head for that matter. I can assure you that you will have some ugly scars, but you will be fine. You need anything, just ring for a nurse. I will be back to see you when the sheriff arrives. He laughed. “It will be interesting to see how frustrated he gets when you can't answer his questions.” The doctor and the sheriff had been friends for years, and this kind of comment went in both directions.

  Sheriff Danforth came in with Dr. Chuck. They shut the door, as both men were aware of the gossip mill a hospital was. “Okay, Mac, Doc tells me you aren't to talk for several days, or even longer, and that it is too painful for you to move your head or hands, so just answer with eye blinks ... one for yes, two for no. Okay?"

  "Was this an accident?” No.

  "I know you did not do this to yourself, so do you know who did it?” No.

  "Did you see who did it?” No.

  "Was it yesterday?” Eyes closed and then blinked three times. “Does that mean you don't know when it happened?” Yes.

  "Where it happened ... do you know where it happened?” Yes.

  "Here in town?” No. “At your home?” No. “This is not getting us anywhere. I need him to be able to talk before I can do much. Damn, Chuck, how soon?"

  "A few days, anyway. We will have to play that by ear. In the meantime, you should tell him about the fire and all."

  Sheriff Danforth and Dr. Chuck both drew chairs close to the bed. “As far as my men have been able to determine, one of your B & B guests,” he consulted his notebook, “Eartha Black, went nuts and set fire to your house. Your brother James was killed helping your grandmother and her servant to safety. Here is the irony of it ... the two bodies were found inches apart in the cellar, probably killed when the house fell in on them. There is nothing left of the house itself, but the pool house and barn are still there

  "They also found that your Aunt Glenda had died of a snakebite, and they buried her without calling authorities. No surprise there, as your family has pretty much done as it wanted for more years than anyone can remember. I'll tell you more as I get it in. I know you have questions of your own, but they will have to wait until later, just like mine."

  As he stood to leave, he said, “Mac, considering that someone thinks you are dead, I suggest we keep it that way. If he finds out you are alive, chances are he will try again. So for the time being, we will just keep all this quiet, as quiet as we can. I have warned the hospital staff and my men that if anything gets out about this, I will have their skins on a platter. I will post a man outside your door until you are well enough to leave. Anyway, I would tell you to sleep well, but after all this, I doubt you will sleep at all."

  "Oh, yes, he will, Danforth,” said the doctor. “I'm giving him a shot now, and he'll sleep like a baby until morning. You can stop back in a few days, if you have more info for him.” Mac blinked his eyes twice, but Dr. Chuck, smiling, said, “Yes, Mac, like it or not. See you tomorrow."

  Mac tried to speak, but it came out in a garble they could not understand. His second try was no better. He felt himself giving in to the shot without getting out a third try. Damn, damn, damn! were his last thought before sleep won out.

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  Chapter 50

  Ellen, Billy, and the kitten he called Snowball, for its white fur, even though he had never made nor even seen a snowball, bounced their way back to town. She enjoyed his laughter. How sad it took so little to bring a smile to his dirty face. “First thing we will do, Billy, is stop at your house and give the kitten some milk and show it to your dad."

  That wiped away his smile. He hid his face in the cat's long fur, muffling his reply. “We ain't got milk. And Pa will not want me to keep the cat. He hates animals. But I will keep Snowball in my room, and he never goes in there."

  "Well, then we will stop at the store and get you some milk and kitten food. Hey, how about we stop at the café and get us both a hamburger and milk. Would you like that?"

  "Can I have fries, too?"

  "Yes, and a milkshake if you want it instead of just plain milk.” The smile returned to his face. She felt an ache as she looked at him. Lord, what kind of life does he have? What kind of man would he be, growing up as he was? Her eyes filled with tears that she wiped away with the back of her hand.

  "Why you crying? Did I do bad again?"

  "No, honey, you did nothing wrong. Why do you even think that?"

  "Pa says everythin’ I do is bad. Even when I try to be good, he whops me anyway, so I just try to stay out of his way."

  Ellen looked at him again, wondering if there was some way she could help him. She reached over to pat his cheek and ruffle his hair, her hand coming away feeling greasy. She wondered when the last time was that he had a shower.

  She slowed the Jeep down as they came into town. The first stop was the grocery store for cat items and some cookies she saw Billy eyeing with want in his eyes. “Let's drop these things off at your house, hide the kitten in your bedroom, and then go for our hamburgers."

  He hesitated. “Okay, but we need to park away from it until I see if Pa is there or not."

  "Where else would he be ... fishing, maybe?"

  "Nah, probably not. Probably at the Mudbug with his friends."

  "Where does he work?” It was early afternoon, so apparently he got an earl
y start on his drinking.

  Billy seemed a bit hesitant before deciding he could trust Ellen with the truth. “He ain't got a job. He gets some check from the goverment"—the word was hard for him to say—"every month. He buys food then, and we eat pretty good for a week or so, until it runs out, then we kinda go without."

  "You mean that for two weeks, you have no food?"

  "Well, sometimes I hide somewhere I know he won't look, so there is a little to eat until the next check comes, if I am careful."

  Ellen felt fury, thinking of the child starving while his father was at the tavern drinking what little they had. She forced herself to calm down and then started the vehicle. She followed his direction, stopping a block away from the house he ran into. He returned, saying it was okay to move closer as his dad was gone. He handed her the kitten and picked up the grocery sack.

  "Hey, I can help you, Billy. Here, you take Snowball, and I will pack the groceries."

  His little face hardened. “No, ma'am, you can't come in. Pa finds out he will whop me sure, and hard.” He ran into the house, returning a few minutes later. “I have milk in a bowl and kitten food on an old plate, and the poop box under my bed. I will be back in a minute, after I show Snowball around his new room. Oh, how do I know if Snowball is a boy cat?"

  Ellen smiled. “Here, I will show you. See how he looks, like a man. If he were a girl, he would not have these ... balls."

  "Oh, I get it. Like a man. Like me."

  "Yes, like you."

  * * * *

  Alma grinned as he finished off his hamburger, most of his fries, and asked if he could take the rest of the milkshake with him. He was in a hurry to get home to his kitten. They both watched him run down the street, smiles fading.

  "What is the scoop with Billy and his father? Sounds like it is a horrible life for a child?"

  "It is horrible. Billy's mother died when he was born. She was a beautiful, sweet woman. His dad seemed to blame Billy. Told the child his ma ran off with some other man because she hated him from the day he was born. He started drinking, lost his job, went on welfare claiming he has a bad back and can't work. Should have his drinking arm broken, or worse. Neighbors say he beats Billy when he is drunk. Poor kid has learned to run and hide until the asshole passes out."

  "God, Alma, can't anybody do anything?"

  "People have tried. Called the police and social services, but they do nothing, especially because Billy is too afraid to tell them anything. Maybe when he starts school next year, it will get better for him, but I doubt it. Billy comes here when he is really scared, and I let him stay for a day or two ... as long as he wants to stay. His dad never even looks for him."

  "Alma, I have an idea, but I need to sleep on it. Now, personal opinion, friend, do you think Mac is alive?"

  "Honey, my gut instinct says yes, but common sense seems to say no. No one has seen him for a couple days, and that is completely unlike him. I don't want to burst your bubble, but you might want to consider heading back to Atlanta. Not that you aren't welcome to stay with me as long as you want, but for your own peace of mind, maybe you need familiar surroundings and folks who love you."

  Ellen laughed. “Okay, you got me there. I will check into the hotel across the street ... that will be familiar surroundings, and you love me, don't you?” Alma nodded. “So I have the best of both right heeere in li'l ol’ Cotton.” This she delivered in her best Southern drawl. Both women laughed.

  "You don't need to stay at the hotel, I have plenty of room in the back for both us of us."

  "No, you don't. Remember me, the horrible waitress you had getting in your way awhile back? No, it's the hotel. But thanks, honey, it means so much to me."

  "When you were at Black Bayou, did you find out anything?"

  "Yes,” said Ellen, as her face became serious and sad. “Apparently Eartha, my friend, or whom I thought was my friend, has always hated me. And the others, too. In her mind she thought we slighted her, treated her as a lesser person ... the whole nine yards. None of it was true. She was as dear to me as Marybeth and Windy were. After she ran me off, according to Mrs. Atwater, she threatened them and carried out her threats by burning down the place. They said she ended up in the cellar with James, only feet apart. However, here is the kicker ... she was Glenda's child, apparently by one of those black men who raped her. Mac mentioned once that he doubted anyone ever had to rape Glenda ... she was always willing anytime and anywhere with anyone. I don't know much more right now."

  "Eartha's brothers were in town the morning of the fire. Mac and the Daniel one were having coffee here when Mac suddenly left. No idea why, but he was gone when I came out of the kitchen. That Eartha person pulled up outside and honked, then took off with the others right behind her. Haven't seen any of them since."

  Alma's high school helper arrived. Ellen decided to take a walk, but not down the road toward the Mudbug. Instead, she walked in the dusty road toward the small house where Billy lived. There was no car in the yard, so she figured his father was not home. She knocked and was about ready to let herself in, thinking Billy was hiding with the kitten in his room and might not hear her. Suddenly, the door opened and there stood one of the dirtiest, most disgusting men she had ever seen.

  The man was tall, at least six feet, two inches, with a scruffy whiskered face that may or may not have felt a razor in months. He smelled like a mangy dog. He wore a rope for a belt and a pair of suspenders that were so lacking in elastic that he had tied them together in the back. His clothes were stained and holey until their original colors were gone.

  "Well, what we got here? Yous a pretty one. Bet ya r Mac's fuckin’ gal. Hear'd tell you be back. Mac always lucky dat way. Whee, come on in, li'l lady, ‘n’ sit a spell. Or bedder yet, lay a spell.” He laughed, showing yellow teeth, what there were of them. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shabby shack. He was obviously drunk and having trouble standing.

  She pulled away from him and tried to get out the door, but he hit her on the jaw so hard she fell to the floor. He dropped himself on top of her, fumbling to open his pants and pull off her shorts. “Now, ya r goin’ a feel a real man.” Suddenly, he fell forward, unconscious. His weight made it hard to get up until Billy came into view, holding a whiskey bottle. He rolled his father off her. She stood, and together they ran outside, but Billy went back inside, only to appear a moment later with Snowball wrapped in his arms.

  "Come on, Billy, I know a place we can go. I will take you to Alma's then to the hotel with me tonight. No, on second thought, after dark, I will come and get you, and we will go to Inverness. Do you know the way there? Can you direct me, even in the dark?"

  "I sure can, ma'am. I'm good in directionin'."

  She laughed as they hurried toward the café. “Don't you think you should call me Ellen? We have been through some stuff together, grownup stuff, so that makes it okay to call me by my name."

  He grinned and said, “Ellen, Ellen, Ellen. Oh my, ma'am, that sure is a pretty name."

  She smiled and tousled his head, vowing to herself that first thing would be a shower for the little guy.

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  Chapter 51

  A shower he got. She insisted she shampoo his hair and he insisted that no lady was going to see him naked. She thought, and then suggested he put his underwear back on until she had his head clean. He hung his head and said in a little voice, “Ain't got no unders."

  "Okay, then leave your jeans on for now. You can take them back off when I close the door.” He agreed.

  She turned her back until he said ‘ready.'

  "Close your eyes, Bill my man, and get ready for the shampooing of your life."

  He giggled. “Ain't never had a shampooing before. Can I feel it? Wow, that is funny. All those bubbles. Smells good, too. A man could get used to this,” he said in his little boy voice.

  Ellen felt her heart swell. No underwear, no shampoo. Lord, what else had he missed? “Now, I am going
to wash your back and behind your ears.” He giggled again as she scrubbed his neck, chest, arms, and back, all the time singing some old ditty from a radio commercial about bubbles, bubbles everywhere. “When I close the door, take off those jeans and leave them in the bottom of the shower. Scrub every inch of your body. And I mean every inch, and that means your feet, butt, and male parts, too. If you don't, I will drag you back in here and wash you myself."

  He smiled, “Yes, ma'am ... I mean, Ellen. I sure will make me clean all over, I promise."

  "Okay, then when you are dry, wrap up in this big towel and get in bed while I go see if I can get you some new clothes. Now, mind you, I am going to lock the door, and don't answer or open it to anyone but me. Do you understand?"

  "I sure do. Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles everywhere, right?"

  "Right on, Bill my man."

  * * * *

  He was in bed when she got back, nestled down and asleep with his Snowball on his chest. She wished for a camera and then shook her head. He looked so angelic she wanted to hug him but refrained from waking him. She laid his new clothes on the foot of the bed. There were three pair of socks, underwear, jeans, shirts, plus a new belt, and two pair of shoes and pajamas.

  She went out again, leaving the door unlocked. Downstairs she asked Mrs. Clarke, “Will you keep an eye on my room door and come running out into the street yelling if his pa comes looking for him?"

  "Ha, his pa dunna care ‘bout him, but I watch.” She hesitated before saying, “I am sorry ta hear ‘bout yer friends. That black girl was Glenda's brat ain't no surprise. Any word on Mac?"

  Ellen said, “No. I am going across to see Alma for a few minutes and get some food for Billy in the morning. He is sleeping, poor little guy."