Fleetie's Crossing Read online

  “Children, listen to me,” Mother said. “I don’t want you to go to Hobe’s. He could go off and flog the whole bunch of you. Go on up to my house. I know it is a longer way in this rain, but Nessa’s there. That way, you can all be together. Hear me now? I will make it all right with Fleetie.”

  Leatha nodded and nudged me. “Mommy’s going to have a fit.”

  Six-year-old Rebecca tried to hide behind Leatha. Five-year-old Emma’s usual grin melted into tears that ran down her chubby cheeks. The kids knew they were never to go to Mrs. Ramsey’s unless Mommy said. But on this night, when everything was strange, they obeyed any adult willing to speak to them.

  Leatha and I stepped off the front step into the rising flood. The chance for us to spend the night talking until we were purely tired of it was enough to keep our feet moving in the rain-sluiced dark. We picked up the baby twins. Their toddler feet and little fat legs struggled to keep them upright. We were soon waterlogged as we sloshed toward the crossing. The dirt road was a mudslick, and I fought for balance until I made enough progress to pull the twin and me free of the water, and we moved to the top of the crossing. In the heavy, wet dark, instinct and memory served as our missing flashlight.

  Dorotha began quarreling before we covered the few feet up the hill to the old mulberry tree. “Mommy’s gonna whip us good for going up to Mrs. Ramsey’s.”

  “Hush, Dork,” said Leatha. “You want to go and set Hobe off? Sometimes, Mary and Ginny can’t keep him from beatin’ them. How’s they gonna keep him off us?”

  “Hobe’s not that bad. Our whole house will be under before morning. He won’t say nuthin’. He’d be ’shamed to. He only gets off when he’s been drinkin’ that ole moonshine.”

  “Well, if you’re so sweet on him, you go right on up that branch and take your chances. He chased me and Rachel last week when we were just making a playhouse for the little kids by the culvert. We weren’t even up on his bank. Go on, I dare you. You gonna pass up a dare?”

  That was all it took. Dorotha stomped off, letting the dark and the rain swallow any sight of her.

  Rebecca, Fleetie’s fourth child, screamed after her, went to her knees, and refused to move. Water dripped off her hair, and her knees were covered with the thick mud on the road.

  Leatha took charge. “Rebecca, get up! We’re goin’ up this hill right now. We don’t need Dorotha. She’ll just worry us to pieces. Hobe favors her over all us anyway. He won’t take after her the way he does you and me. Come on. We’ll just let her take her chances.”

  Little Emma wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s head and, with sobbing gulps, pulled at her until Rebecca gave in and stood up. By now, both girls were sobbing.

  “Meany Leatha!” Rebecca screamed. “Stop bossin’ me. I’m telling Mommy you are the meanest girl she’s got. She’s gonna whup you good.”

  “She can’t whup me ’cause I’m here and she’s down there! I’m going up this hill and leavin’ both of you standing. If you don’t want to be out here alone, you better stop that blubbering and come on.”

  Still snuffling and wiping tears, the two held on to each other and fell in just behind Leatha. The dark and the rain lost the fight for them.

  Standing in the dark just beyond sight, I spotted Dorotha as she listened to her sisters quarrel. She grinned and started for the fork and the steep branch that led to Mary and Hobe’s. Hobe’s cliff house was a fearsome place full of dread for all the kids up this holler. Hobe would just as soon knock you down as say howdy, and no one in his path was safe if he was drinking or just having a bad turn. Dorotha, for all her flighty, nervous nature, did not have a scared bone in her long lanky body when it came to doing what she wanted to do. She was only scared of those things that other people brought down on her head, like school, reading, and sitting still in church.

  Alone now, I could see her climb the narrow path beside the raging branch. The pounding branch waters skirted over the path that wound around the hill to Hobe’s place. Dorotha was soon out of sight.

  I hurried to catch up with Leatha. “You go on up to the house. I’m going back to help Mother until Daddy gets back with Dr. Parks. There’s hot food on the stove. I won’t be too long.”

  “It’s dark. Don’t fall and get swept plumb down the river. Ed’ll skin all of us if you turn up like some drowned rat hanging off a sycamore.”

  “I love you too. You’re liable to fall off the mountain and get eaten by a panther.”

  “Make Burl’s day. One less of us to feed, I reckon. See you after a while.”

  Chapter 6

  CHASING HIGHER GROUND

  As I made my way back down the hill, I had time to think up a good reason for why I didn’t go home with the rest of them. But the real truth was that I knew Leatha and Nessa could take care of a dozen kids, and whether Mother would admit it or not, I could see she was pretty shaky.

  When I got to Fleetie’s porch, Mother was standing right there, looking for us through the rain. She pounced quick as a cat. “What are you doing back here? I thought I had you safely out of this mess.”

  “I decided to wait for Daddy with you. You might need me.”

  “I needed you more to mind me and get on home.” She wasn’t even looking at me. Her heart wasn’t in giving me down the road, and her words melted into the rush of rain and black night.

  Fleetie pushed open the screen door. “What about the tub and the herbs? Want us to pack them on up to Helen’s?”

  “Yes, she still needs them, and Helen’s tub is probably rusty. Fleetie, her whole place will be filthy. Don’t you think Fred could carry Geneva to my house?”

  “Fred’s back is so bad from that slate fall, he’ll do well to get her up the crossing to Helen’s. Burl and me’ll carry a load of clean sheets and quilts in the tub.”

  “Fleetie, what about your things? Your papers, your clothes, the children’s pictures—can’t we save some of them?”

  “Law’ me, Kathleen. We are flooded out so much, I put the keeping stuff in the attic. It’s never got in the attic. We’ll be all right. Someday, I hope to never have to run from a flood again, but that’s not today. Would you put this quilt around Gen while I finish putting these things up?”

  She stretched to place articles on the ledge that ran completely around the front room, solving the mystery of why each of Fleetie’s rooms had such a peculiar high shelf just inches from the ceiling—flood insurance!

  I took the blanket from Mother, and she began putting things up too. Mother was taller than Fleetie, and the work went quicker. I took the quilt from Mother’s hands and wrapped it as snug as I could around Geneva. Poor little thing. She made me want to cry. There was no way she could escape what was happening to her besides death. How desperate is that?

  I swear I thought she read my mind because the next thing I knew, she said, “Miz Ramsey, am I going to die? Is this baby going to purely kill me this time?”

  “No, honey, but we’ve got to move. The water is coming up fast. You’re not going to die. You’re going to have this baby soon as we get you up out of this water.”

  “Be good now,” said Fleetie as she put up the last of the small things she wanted to save.

  Fred swept Geneva up in his arms, and his knees almost buckled under the quick weight. I pushed the screen door open as wide as it would go, and he stepped out to the porch with her. The rain pelted them, but his feet stayed steady with her balanced on his broad chest. Sweat mixed with the rain that trickled down his face and neck. Even though they were just in front of me, the black night almost swallowed them as he slogged through the water to the steep crossing and safer ground.

  Fleetie and Burl hoisted the loaded tub to their shoulders. Mother and I followed behind with more supplies, and we all followed the rest as they sloshed through what looked by now like at least four inches of water that swamped the yard, crossed the gravel road, a
nd commenced to climb up the steep crossing.

  Halfway up the crossing bank, Burl yelled, “Fleet, the grade’s too steep. This damn tub is about to slide into the water!”

  “Put it down. I’ll pull it up over the crossing.”

  The tub came down, and all four of us pushed and pulled it over the crossing. At the top, Burl and Fleetie picked it up by the thick handles and hurried across the fifty yards to the steps leading to the Willises’ front porch.

  We could see George looking out the front window. He was probably trying to see the high water and the swollen branch running by the side of his house. He surely wasn’t expecting to see us tramping up his steps, but you’d never know it because his voice thundered across the porch. “Hold on, Fred. I’ll get the door.”

  Fred’s face was twisted in pain, and I could see his arms trembling, even wrapped hard around Geneva. George threw open the door, and before he could say howdy, Fred carried Geneva into the dim front room and lowered her to a high-backed chair.

  “Helen, get up and come here,” George bellowed. He didn’t wait around on ceremony. His usual mild manner and low voice were gone as he sized up how desperate we all looked.

  Helen must have heard the demanding tone in his voice because she jumped to the door with sleepy eyes and a confused look on her face. Right behind me, Fleetie, Mother, and Burl stepped through the front door, carrying the muddy tub, all of us dripping small rivers on the floor.

  Mother and I followed Fleetie to the kitchen, where we studied the condition of the stove and sink. It was worse than I thought it would be. Fleetie came up here once in a while, so she must have known about the mess greeting us. Years of grime had almost glued the stove caps down, but Fleetie wrestled open the coal hole on the side of the ancient range, poked the embers, and threw in lumps of coal from the bucket beside the stove.

  Mother checked the water reservoir. Both women just went on like they had walked into their own clean kitchens. It occurred to me that maybe Mother had two sides to her too. If she didn’t, she was sure putting on a brave front. That kitchen was a brand new experience for me. That people actually lived in this much dirt seemed like something made up, maybe a nightmare. I tried not to touch anything.

  Fleetie spoke to Helen in a soft voice, almost like she was talking to a baby. “Helen, we’ve got us a mess here. Geneva’s bad off, and the river’s runnin’ in the doors by now. We’ve got to get hot water in this here tub quick. Geneva has about done all she can do, and Ed and Dr. Parks must be behind high water. If these two are going to make it, we are going to have to help her have this baby. Kathleen knows what to do.”

  Helen nodded, mute as a monk, and backed her way to the stove. Not until that moment did Helen realize that Mother was standing in her house. All their encounters had been in the open, far away from her dirty stove and grimy floor. Her face flushed red, and I could almost feel the humiliation crawling up her back and settling in her craw.

  “Law’ me, Fleetie, I hain’t been well, and thangs is a mess. We can’t birth no baby in here. This ain’t no proper place for Mizrez Ramsey.”

  There it was again. Even as desperate as we had to look, here was Helen worrying about my highfalutin mama standing judgment on her pitiful house. Poor Mother. She would probably never live long enough to be considered a normal, sweet, good woman willing to come out in the dark and rain to deliver a baby. It was enough to make me stomping mad. I could have flung a fit too, but right then, no one would have noticed. Why waste it?

  Fleetie ignored her whining. “We’ve got to get the tub full of warm water. There’s a little warm water in the tank. Fill up your kettles and these two we brought up from the house. I’ll poke up the fire. We’re going to need the coal bucket filled too.” Fleetie set a small pan of water on the front cap and threw in more dried herbs to steep. “I’ll go get some coal.”

  Mother broke in. “Fleetie, stay here Rachel will get it.”

  Fleetie handed me the empty coal bucket. “The coal pile’s out back at the corner of the house. Mind the barb wire. It’s fell down along the side of the pile. Go ask Fred or Burl, and they’ll help you carry it.”

  Fred heard her and grabbed the bucket from me. I guess he was grateful for something to do. Fleetie knelt by Geneva and helped Mother rub Geneva’s back, arms, and legs, trying to keep a chill from setting in. The last thing she needed was to start shivering.

  “Burl,” said Mother, “where’s that bottle of whiskey?”

  “Sittin’ on the front porch where I dropped it before we come in. Why?”

  “Go get it. I want to give Geneva a dose of it before the next pains start.”

  Burl followed Fred out the door.

  Geneva shook her head. “Fleetie, I can’t stand the smell of liquor. Just let me die. I can’t stand no more. I can’t stand no more . . .”

  My stomach twisted. She sounded so helpless.

  Burl walked back in the kitchen, the offending bottle under his arm. He would never live long enough to think of whiskey as anything but contraband. Fred put the coal bucket down by the stove.

  George followed him in. “Fred, help me, and we’ll pack my old army cot down from the attic. We can set it here for Geneva. It’ll be covered with dust and soot, but I’ll get Helen to clean it up.”

  Fred followed George up the back stairs.

  “Kathleen,” Fleetie said, “can you get her to take this? She’s not going to let me get it down her. I can’t hardly blame her. Whiskey burns like fire and tastes worse.”

  Mother took the bottle and poured the glass half full. She made her voice low and harsh. It was her “gonna get a-switchin’” voice. “Geneva, this will help you relax. You have to get it down, and you have to keep it down, hear me? It will take some of the pain away. When you aren’t hurting so bad, you can work with us to get this baby born.”

  Geneva shook her head.

  “Do you want to die and kill your baby and go straight to hell? We’re not listening to any more silliness. Drink this, and drink it now.”

  Fleetie shot me a startled look hot enough to burn my skin. She didn’t know Mother could blow off like that. I shrugged. I had heard it lots of times. Mother had a temper and resembled Mammy Yokum when she got riled. Soft giggling came from the Willis children huddled at the top of the ladder leading to the sleeping loft. Grown-ups yelling in the middle of the night in their kitchen was better than a Saturday movie.

  Startled, Geneva gave up and choked down the liquor. It took her breath, and she erupted into coughing spasms, and tears ran down her cheeks. Gasping and sputtering, she moaned, “Why would anybody drink that filthy stuff if they didn’t have to?”

  Fleetie took her hand. “To prove they’re strong. Men are plain simple, Gen. Strong drink and a strong back. It’s pretty much the same with them. And here you are, about to bring another one into the world that could very well be a boy.”

  “I’ll teach it better if it is,” whispered Geneva.

  “Baby boys start out the sweetest of all, Geneva. It’s the world that gets in their heads and messes them up,” said Mother.

  Geneva smiled a crooked smile at her, the whiskey already working.

  Fleetie slowly poured the hot steeped-herb water into the cooling tub of water. The woodsy scent filled the kitchen. Mother spread two clean sheets wide around the tub to protect Geneva from the filthy floor. Mother tested the water, and Fleetie slipped off her robe, and the two of them held Gen as she stepped into the double tub and eased into the water. As she slipped deep into the warm water, another round of pain began to gather strength, but this time, she had something to help the struggle.

  Fleetie held her hands, and Geneva, following primal instinct, began to breath hard and fast. The increased oxygen, liquor, warm water, and herbs combined to give Geneva her first respite in hours, even in the middle of a labor pain. Mother winced as Geneva writhed in
pain, but we could all see that Geneva was more in control. She could now focus on Fleetie and Mother as they sat on the floor beside her, holding her hands, rubbing her shoulders, encouraging her to breathe deep and relax.

  The change was subtle and hard to tell, but if you looked close, you could see Geneva was making the first progress in hours. She had lost the crazed fear flashing in her eyes. In its place, there was something like a clinched-jaw determination to get this job done and over with.

  “That’s the way, Geneva, you’re doing a good job. It won’t be long now. Ed will be here soon with Dr. Parks. He will be surprised to see how well you are getting along. He’ll give us a lecture about setting off a false alarm.”

  From between clenched teeth, Geneva whispered, “Kathleen, this is so much worse than the twins. How could it be worse than the twins? Is something wrong with the baby? Oh lordy! Don’t let me and my baby die.”

  “Gen, stop this carryin’ on,” Fleetie said. “We’re not doin’ any dying around here. You are just having a baby. Babies come hard. We always forget how hard it is. Them twins didn’t come free, remember? Listen now.”

  “She’s right, Geneva. If you will work with us and don’t take on, we will get this baby here, I promise,” said Mother.

  Geneva nodded, and as the relaxation deepened, her breathing settled into a steady rhythm, further loosening her cramped muscles. There was no relaxing the worry lines in the other two women’s faces. No matter what they said, there was a limit to how much longer Geneva could keep this up.

  Standing at the stove, brewing more herbal tea, I heard Mother whisper to Fleetie, “Where could Ed be? Something must have happened. He wouldn’t be this long if he had walked the whole six miles.”

  Fleetie shook her head and closed her eyes. The adrenaline rush of fear that pushed all of us as we ran from the flood had long since fled. In its place was a worm of fear gnawing away at our nerves.

  Mother leaned over and whispered, “What is it, Fleetie? Why did you shake your head?”