Along the Muddy Mississippi

It’s a dry summer day, shuffling my feet through the dirt, creating dust clouds as I headed toward the apple tree with its sun-drenched leaves clinging to the branches and some of its fruit rotting away. I hear mama cry, “You'll be careful now, ye hear?’  Drops of sweat stinging my grey eyes, deep like the buttons of a flute, my tomboyish red hair sticking to the back of my neck exposing the birthmark, the color like the muddy waters of the Mississippi.

When I was younger, I asked mama about the mark. She said, “Honey, child, you are not too worried about it.”

             “But why, mama?” I asked as she was brushing away the curls from my eyes

             “Cause child, some folk says that it’s an angel kiss.”

A kiss by an angel, staring up at the lowest branch swiftly, I jump up, grabbing it, swinging my spider legs up and over, catching one limb, and then another until I am high above the ground, perching like a bird. A hot breeze like a breath of a dragon rustles through the leaves, my hands clutching the branch, gazing toward the distant horizon where the Mississippi river twists and turns making its way through the countryside.

I have thought about it once after reading the Adventures of Huckleberry. Finn ” By Mark Twain, the thrill of building a raft to ride down its muddy river. But that was when I was younger, and now, I have outgrown those thoughts since now I’m fourteen.  As my mama said, “Child, as a young lady, one doesn’t run off somewhere likes that”  Still, I find myself daydreaming about such things up here in this old tree.

“Ra, what you are doing up there?” My sister Melody asked. Though we are different as the night is from the day, as our mama has said, she's my twin.  Her grey eyes are like the wings of a seagull taking flight, red hair that tumbles down past her slender shoulders whenever she loosens the ribbon holding it in a ponytail.

“Nothing”

“Well, if you want breakfast, come down.”

“Sure, be right there.”

Leaving behind a  trail of footprints as I ran to our home, my mouth watering with anticipation of steaming hotcakes, butter dripping off the edges, cover with thick maple syrup. With the slamming of the screen door, my momma stops me in mid-stride. “Honey child, let me see your hands.”

“Mama, they’re clean.”

“Child, let me see.” She said, with a raised furrow brow, inspecting my fingernails for any traces of dirt. “Now, child, go and wash your hands at the water pump.”

“Yes, mama”

Mama wipes her forehead with a floral handkerchief, which Pa gave her two years ago for her birthday. I can’t believe that it has been two years since his passing. It feels like it was yesterday. 

“Land sakes, child, stop playing with your food.”

“Yes, mama,” I said

“Mama, can I go over to Bobby Jo’s house to play?” Melody said as she ate quickly.

“Child, you all know I feel about”-

“But mama, please?” She said, scraping off the foodscapes into the trashcan.

“Oh, land sakes, child, go.”

“Thanks,” she bolted out the door, traipsing down the front steps.

“Child, where do you think you are going?”  

“Outside”

“Well, who do you think is going to help me?”

The afternoon’s temperature had risen by the time I got done ‘redden up’ the room. However, just as I thought that I could go outside, mama’s sending me to the ‘General Store’ just down the road apiece. I can protest, but that wouldn’t do any good, so I chose to go and buy what she requested.

“Raven, remember, a sack of flour, sugar and asked Mrs. Johnson if she has any eggs?”

“Yes, mama”

“One more thing, don’t talk to strangers.” She said,” you hear?”

****

 The heat from the sun is scorching the back of my neck as I continue skipping down the road, occasionally tossing a few stones along the way.  Coins in my pocket begin to jingle as my imagination fly away. I’m a private, carrying gold coins from my treasure-seeking adventure and picking up a stick that quickly becomes my sword, “Aye away me hearts,” swinging my sword at an imaginary enemy,  “Take that.”

“Excuse me, Miss, but can you help an old man?” The stranger said as he bent over to pick up his bicycle.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, grabbing his bags that are lying in the dirt, “Here you go, sir.”

“Thank you kindly, Missy.” He said, adjusting the metal basket that dangles across the handlebars stuffing those bags into it.

His eyes are dark like the flat and sharp keys on a piano among the ivory, patches of silver-gray hair on his sun bleach bald head. And before today, I have never seen him around town. Then  I heard my momma’s words echoing in my ears, “Don’t speak to strangers.”  I politely excused myself, and as I started to turn around, his fingers start digging into my left arm.

“Sir, please let me go.”

“Look here, Missy, I won’t hurt you. Just tell me your name.”

“It’s- It’s Billy Jo”

“Billy Jo, is it?”

“Y- y- yes”

“Well, thank you, Billy Jo,” he said, hopping onto his bike as he begins to peddle down the road as I stood there watching him vanishing into the noonday light. Perhaps it was his eyes or maybe the sound of his voice, but there was something odd about him. And deep down, I know that today won’t be the last that I will come across that stranger. A chill crept down my spine. I shuddered at that thought of being in the presence of this- this stranger.

Almost there, ambling down the road, wild thoughts darting in different directions, I find it challenging to think about anything else but that stranger. Where is he going? Where does he live?  Is he dangerous?

“Hey, Ra?” Melody runs up to me, “where are you going?”

“To the “General Store for mama. Why?”

“I was wondering, that’s all.”

“Where’s Bobby Jo?”

“She had chores to do and can’t get away.”

“So, do you want to come along?”

“Sure, why not? I don't have anything better to do.”

Two peas in a pod, that’s what people around here say about Mel and me, and sure enough, I guess they are right about us. Though we have our differences, and at times our fights wear mama down, however, in the end, we’re here for each other. Mel, with her down-to-earth thinking, and me, on the other hand, daydreaming seeking adventure. Though around here, there isn't much adventure that was until today. 

“A penny for your thoughts, sis,” Mel teased

“Huh?”

“So, where are you now?”

“What did you say?’

“Never mind”

“Good morning, girls,” Mrs. Johnson said, looking up from the cash register. Her dark hair is in complete contrast with the clear blue eyes, heavenly deep, and a smile that lights up a room. Mrs. Miller is only two years older than Mel and me. She married Edmund, who’s twice her age. I suspect that it was more of a convenience than love, and yet Emily seems happy. 

“Morn’ Emily, I mean Mrs. Miller,” Mel said

“What can I do for you girls?”

“Ra?”

“Oh, yeah, right, we’ll take a sack of flour, sugar and do you have any eggs for sale?”

“Sure, let me get Mr. Miller to help you,” she said, wiping her hands on the apron as she walks through the curtain in the back of the store. I hear some mumbling, but I can’t make out any words. Mr. Johnson reappears, his bushy beard hangs down to the middle of his chest, a toothless grin, and unsettling deep brown eyes

“My wife tells me you want to buy some eggs. Is that right?”

“Yeah- that’s right,” I said

“Does you have money?”

“We most certainly do,” Mel chimed in

“How many eggs?

“We’ll take twelve, please,” I said

“Twelve, huh?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Melody answers

“What else?”

“A sack of flour and sugar, please,” I said. With our purchase, we headed back home.

***

It’s been another sweltering day, the hottest one so far this summer, and what little grass we have has already turned brown. Mama said that the young preacher man stopped by just the other day to see if we’re doing okay. Mama, thank him kindly, said that we’d be fine. ‘ The good Lord will take care of us.’ she always has a way of looking on the bright side of things. 

Mel and Bobby Jo spend more time hanging around the “Old creek” down by the holler lately. She doesn’t even ask mama anymore. In contrast, I spend my time enjoying the view from our apple tree and helping out. Especially since mama’s health is failing these two days, I worry that she doesn’t have much strength left in her old bones for one more day.

“Mel, you got a minute?”

“Sure, yeah, what’s going on?”

“It’s mama, she isn't- doing so well.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I think we should get old Doc to come out here for a visit.”

“How are you planning to pay for it?”

“I- I don’t know, but we have to do something.”

Mel left, and the last thing I heard is the slamming of our screen door. At the same time, I hear mama’s small voice calling out from her bedroom. I hurried to her side, wringing out the washcloth in the basin, gingerly wiping her forehead.

“Mama, I’m going to go to town and fetch  Old Doc for you.”

“Child- c-child,” her breath labors, “Child” mama’s voice trails off before she starts coughing.

“Mama, I’ll be back, a likely split.”

“I got to get to town,” I repeated to myself, glancing over my shoulder looking back at our home. Our house took on a different meaning when Pa passed away two years ago last spring. It was harder on mama, yet her strong faith kept us going despite our difficulties. Faith, that’s what mama said had gotten us through. Sometimes I wish that I shared her faith.

             “It’ll take time, child, my dear sweet Raven.”

             “Time, mama?”

             “Yes, time, but it will come right when you be needing it.”

             “But when will I know?”

             “Raven, child, you will know.

”I was halfway between home and the town when I spotted that stranger resting along the side of the road, his bicycle lying on the ground.  I kept on walking, focusing on my feet. A chill ran down my spine. No time, as I was about the past, that’s when I heard him call “Billy Jo.”

“I say, Billy Jo, you got some time?”

My pace quicken, sweat pouring down and heart-pounding, keeping my eyes straight ahead, I can’t stop. I have to find the Doc.

“Hey, Billy Jo, what’s the rush?” His hand took hold of my arm, spinning me around to face him, looking straight into his dark flat eyes.

“I have to go,” I said. My voice sounded different, and I can’t explain it, but he let go.

“What’s the trouble, Missy?”

“I have to find Doc.”

“Old Doc Brown?”

“Y-y-yes?”

“Well then, I’s see you need to find him, uh?’

“Yes”

“Well, Missy, I’s haven't seen him for a month or two.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep”

Taking in a short breath, everything around me begins to swirl, and I felt his hands around my waist, right before my knees buckle, slipping out from his grasp, and  I found myself laying on the ground. The stranger sitting next to me his mouth is moving, but I can’t make out what he is saying to me. His dark eyes are staring at me. I can feel the color draining from my face. 

“Billie Jo, you all right?”

Words are trying to form in my mouth, but for whatever reason, I am unable to speak. Like a fish out of water, I flounder, looking for words, but after a while, I gave up. Meanwhile, he kept on talking to me, his words are soothing, comforting somehow, and after time I told him about my mama and her failing health.

“Are you okay, Missy?”

“Y-y- yes?”

“Well, let's be off,” he said,

***

“Mama, I’m home,” I said to the stranger right on my heel. It’s both comforting and unnerving feeling his breath so close. What do I know about him? “What will he do?”  I push open the bedroom door. I listen for any signs of her breathing. The man shoves me out of the way, rushing to mama’s side, tenderly brushes her album hair aside, leans in closer his ear touches mama’s mouth.

“Missy, how long has your mama been this way?”

“Two days, I think.”

Ye say two days?” He said, raising his eyebrow

“Y-y-yes sir”

“Boil some water to make Chamomile tea, and make it quick.”

The stove is still warm from breakfast this morning. After relighting the wood in the firebox, the pot of water starts to boil.   Wiping my hands on one of mama’s aprons, I walked back into the room. Stirring for a moment, mama opens her blue eyes deep as an ocean. She glances at the stranger then back to me.

“C-child?”

“Hush, Mama, It’s okay.”

“Lay still, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Y-you know, mama?

“Yep,  for a long time. "He said, “But now we need  to make sure that your mama starts to feel better.”

“Mama?”

“Billie Jo, go and fetch the tea.”

“My name isn’t Billie Jo. It’s- it’s Raven.” I said, going back to the kitchen to pour mama’s cup of tea.

“Here, Mister?”

“My  name is Raymond, but people around here call me “Old Ray.”

“Old Ray,” I said, handing him the floral teacup.

“Thank you,” He said, helping mama to take a couple of sips of tea, “Sip it slowly.”

“Can I help?”

“Child,” mama’s words are spelled out, “It’s – I’m – doing better. You needed not to worry.”

“Rest, now Mrs. Johnson,” Raymond said,

“Now, will I make sure that she drinks this for a couple of days”

“Yes, Mr. Ray”

“Good, that’s good,” Ray continued, “I will stop by in a few days, just to check up on how’s your mama is doing”

***

It’s Sunday morning, and a week has passed since mama took to her bed with the fever, and with the help from Old Ray, the color has returned to her face.  Still, I would like to ask mama many questions, but, for now, I chose to keep them to myself.

Mr. Ray comes and visits with mama once in a while, and I believe that she enjoys his company. It has been a long time since any menfolk has been around at our home. And before long, it will be autumn, with its changes like mama has always said, “Child life is full of changes, like the seasons, full of wonder, just you wait and see.”

“Yep, life is full of changes,” I said, sitting up here in my favorite spot, my legs dangling from the branch, watching the sunset on the horizon. Someday, I’ll build a raft and sail down the old muddy Mississippi

“Ra, time for dinner.”

“Be right there.”