Authors: Renee' Irvin
Isabella’s eyes rested on Jesse’s face as Jesse turned his head and said, “Jesus! Jesus! Sweet Jesus!” Jesse hopped around the shed with a distorted face whooping and hollering.
“Don’t think about it, think about something else, think about catching a big trout and me and Granny will fry it up for supper.”
Jesse licked his lips and his eyes wandered. “You got the fish?”
“No, but I can tell you where they are.”
“Where?”
“In the river,” Isabella said and bent over laughing.
Granny gave Isabella a stern look, then turned her head and smiled.
Jesse pulled at his pants as he walked around in circles trying to cool off his heels, then whirled around as Tom entered the shed.
Tom stopped and stared at Isabella. “Did I hear you mention fishing?”
“I would love to go fishing!” Isabella said with delight. “I’m sick of all the chores around here. We have canned and put up enough corn, squash, okra and tomatoes to feed all of
Sherman
’s ghosts!”
Tom glanced over at Jesse. Isabella’s face blushed. “Oh, I’m sorry. Tom, this is Jesse. He’s here to help us with the chores.”
Tom extended a long muscular arm as Jesse rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees. He gave Tom a firm handshake.
Isabella glanced over at Granny who had a lap full of Miles’s things and she was methodically going through them. Isabella saw that her mama had stopped sorting and was lost in her thoughts as she held one of her husband’s shirts tight against her chest.
“You boys know each other?” Said Granny, looking up from her pile.
“Seems like I’ve seen Jesse somewhere before,” said Tom.
“Bagwell’s barn,” Jesse said with a nod.
“For Christ sake, it sure was. You would be there on Saturdays with your pa when I’d come in with my pa. Remember that time when we were about seven and our pas’ were discussing what they thought Mr. Riley’s mule was worth?”
“Sure do.”
“How’s your pa?” Tom asked.
“My pa’s dead.”
Tom looked down at the rotted planked floor, then back up at Jesse. “You staying out here?”
“Granny made me a bed up in the loft in the barn and as long as there are chores to be done, I guess I’ll be here. These ladies need some help and besides, we have planted us some cotton!”
“Yeah, I know, I’ve heard all about the cotton,” said Tom, glancing at Isabella, then back to Jesse. “So, how ’bout Saturday morning me and you ride into town and get these women their supplies. When we get back we’ll go fishing.”
Jesse nodded with a smile. He watched Isabella go out of the barn and come back carrying two big orange pumpkins.
Tom turned to Isabella. “For Christ sake, Bella, what are you going to do with those pumpkins?”
“I’m gonna make us a pumpkin pie.”
Jesse’s eyes grew big. You could see the waves of the river, the fish, and pumpkin pie in them.
A gentle breeze blew yellow leaves into the shed. The light of the afternoon sun shone through the holes in the tin roof.
“Tom, guess what?” Isabella said.
“What?”
“Livie and Henry had the baby.”
“Henry had a baby, too?”
“Tom Slaughter, you quit teasing me! He’s so little and precious and his name is James Henry Berkley. You’ve got to see him. Don’t he, mama?”
Lila never looked at Isabella.
“How’s she doing?” Tom whispered.
“Not too good. Some days she sleeps until noon. Granny’s taking it much better than Mama. Last Thursday, we couldn’t find her. Granny and I had been shelling butter beans and we realized there was no sign of Mama. We found her out in the barn. You’re not going to believe what she was doing.”
“What?”
“Talking to Sonny. She was crouched down in the stall, talking to Sonny.” Isabella exhaled and looked at Tom and Jesse. “You know her and Granny both are so worried about us losing this place. If Mr. Hartwell doesn’t get a payment real soon, it’s going into foreclosure. I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
“For Christ sake, Isabella, quit your worrying. I told your pa a long time ago that I would take care of you and I intend to keep that promise. A Slaughter don’t go back on a promise. You always remember that, okay?” He placed his hand on Isabella’s shoulder and looked into her watery blue eyes. “I think that you need to get out of here for a while. Let’s take a picnic basket and go down to the river. Go on; grab some of Granny’s cathead biscuits and some cured ham. If she’s got any of those fried apple pies, bring them too.” He turned and looked at Jesse. “You want to come, Jesse?”
Jesse gnashed his teeth as he tried to get Miles’s boot on over his heel. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “No, yawl go on ahead. I still have chores to do and Granny said she’s gonna fry me up some fish.”
“Does your ma and granny need any supplies from town?” Tom asked Isabella.
“Granny, Tom wants to know if we need anything from town?”
Granny stood up and made her way toward them. She was humming,
Lord Lifted Me
, then stopped and said, “No, I don’t reckon. Nothing we have to have right now.” Her voice turned to tenderness. “You two go on, spend the rest of the afternoon at the river. Tomorrow we’re going to have to plow the field; we’ve got more cotton to plant.”
Isabella leaned over and kissed Granny’s weathered cheek. She noticed how she was shaking as she left the shed. For the first time, she realized that Granny would not be with her forever.
That afternoon the
Chattahoochee
River
was alive and gushing. Isabella looked around at the gray brown bark on the trunks of the trees. She spotted a little deer up in the woods. She glanced at its innocent face and huge brown eyes.
“Tom, why do men kill little deer?”
Tom exhaled and glanced up at the deer.
“That’s the way of our people. We kill ‘em to eat ‘em. For Christ sake, if you get hungry enough Isabella, you’d eat a deer, too. Some people get real hungry at times; especially in the winter. We’ve ate possum before.”
Isabella stopped and spread out a blanket on the damp ground. Leaves were falling all around them. Isabella lay down on the blanket and looked up into the crisp blue sky. Tom sat down and they clasped hands.
“Let me ask you this: does it bother you to kill a hog?” Tom asked.
“Well, it depends. If we have had that hog awhile, it does. I mean once I had this pet hog named Omie…”
Tom laughed. “Omie?”
Isabella said with annoyance, “It wasn’t the name. It was whether or not I had gotten to know them.” She noticed Tom got quiet and released her hand.
“What’s the matter?” Isabella asked.
“I was just thinking about Jesse.”
“What about him?”
“Well, can you imagine how he feels? His grandma and grandpa were slaves. Can you imagine buying and selling people?” Tom shook his head.
“No, I can’t imagine anything as horrible as that.” Isabella looked at the rhododendrons that lined the banks of the
Chattahoochee
River
.
“Tom, have I ever told you that my great-grandmother’s name was Elora Grace? She died during the war. Granny said that her mama and her uncle John were headed to
Atlanta
to take supplies to the soldiers. When they got there, it was too late to turn back. She and her brother witnessed the burning of
Atlanta
and all the hell that came with it.”
“Did the Yankees kill her?”
“Yes and no, well, they might as well have. The Yankees shot and killed her brother right in front of her. She went on to work in the hospital; she nursed the sick and the wounded. And she would write letters for dying soldiers. She read letters to them, too. I have a cross necklace that she left me. Her mother, whose family came here from
Wales
, gave her the necklace and she had it on when she died. She barely had any breath left, but she asked Granny to remove the necklace and see that it went to me. I guess that’s why I have her name. It’s my special necklace. I feel that it will protect me.” Isabella gazed out into the woods and all emotion left her face. She touched her chest with her hand and whispered, “I should have had it on. If I had only had it on that day.”
Tom pushed away and looked into her eyes.
“What day?”
Her thoughts were lost. Her eyes glazed with tears.
“Nothing,” she whispered. She smiled. “Elora Grace. Elora means
the light
in Hebrew.”
Tom could not take his eyes off her. Isabella’s expression changed and a curious smile spread on her face.
“Tom, have you ever known of any riverboat gamblers on the
Chattahoochee
?”
“I don’t know if you could call them that. I mean I’ve known some card players. You’ve heard my pa mention that rough bunch that rides up and down the
Chattahoochee
. There used to be a few steamships with banjo players that traveled up and down this river, but I think most of them ships have gone out of business.”
“Is that all they did was play banjos and ride up and down the river all day?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Did they have women on them, too?”
“Yeah…”
“Women like that Patterson woman?”
“For Christ sake, Isabella, there ain’t no need in your thinking about things like that,” Tom said as he felt a drizzle of rain on his face. “It’s starting to rain.” Isabella stood up and watched as Tom gathered an armful of magnolia leaves and made them a bed. He walked into the woods, and broke some limbs off an oak tree and gathered old sticks on the ground.
“Why are you doing that?”
“I’m making us a tent.”
She propped up against an oak trunk and watched Tom build the tent. Then she closed her eyes.
“Isabella, why are you standing there with your eyes closed?” Tom called out.
“Pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“I’m pretending that I am on one of those riverboats.”
“Oh yeah? What are you doing?”
“Well, I am a stowaway. I’m hiding from Mae Patterson.”
Tom stopped and shook his head.
“For Christ sake, I have never. You had better hope your granny don’t hear about this.”
“You want to hear my story or not?”
“Okay, go on. You were one of Mae Patterson’s whores stowed away.”
“Did I say I was a whore? No, I said I was a stowaway. Just because I had come from Mae’s did not make me a whore.”
“Uh huh…”
“I was from
New Orleans
and I was trying to get back there.”
“You were going to get there on the
Chattahoochee
River
?”
“While I was on the riverboat I met a man from a rich family, but his family had disowned him because he had taken to fancy women and cards. He got sick, real sick, and I took care of him. Before he died he gave me all the money he won from the gamblers and rowdy men. He had been in bars and gunfights all over the world.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“I paid off our farm.”
“I thought you were from
New Orleans
?”
“I can pretend anything I want and be anyone I want to be, Tom. This is my imagination.”
Isabella’s eyes were still closed. The wind was blowing her hair as she stood on the edge of the riverbank and listened to the rush of the water. She did not hear Tom walk up behind her.
He touched the softness of the skin on her neck and pulled her into him. He stood behind her and she fell against him. He clasped his arms around her waist. The two of them stood together as the wind blew her hair in his face. He loved the smell of her hair--it reminded him of roses. He pressed his lips against her neck and watched as the skirt of her dress billowed in the wind. He turned her around to face him and they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Take me away from here,” she whispered.
“Take you where?” And then he kissed her. It seemed like another place, another time.
“To calmer waters.”
She looked up at him and even though their eyes both agreed, they said not a word. He wrapped his arm around her waist and they walked back to the tent. The rain had stopped, but he lay her on the bed of magnolia leaves and crawled on top of her.
“I’ve been wanting you for so long,” he whispered in her ear. “It‘s hard to let you go.”
“Then don’t.”
He ran his hand across her eyelids and over her face. She crawled out from the tent and stood up. She unbuttoned and removed her dress. Isabella stood there naked, on the banks of the river. It was almost dusk.
Tom came out from the tent and looked at her. She felt embarrassed. She reached for her dress and covered her body with his. He walked to her as her dress fell to the ground. He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed of magnolias. His eyes never left her as he took off his shirt, then his pants. She clasped her delicate thin arms tight around his back and they were as they had never before been.