Roseflower Creek (4 page)

    "After a while as more and more folks moved here, they drew up a town charter, called it Millwood. Everything they planted grew in abundance. Cotton, corn, soybeans. Folks said it was because her spirit resided down at Rose's flower creek and watched over them and their crops. They thanked God for Rose's creek and for all their blessings they thought it brung 'em. 'Fore long lazy tongues turned Rose's flower creek to Roseflower Creek. It caught on and here we are."

    "That's a real nice story, MeeMaw," I said.

    "It's more than a story, Lori Jean. It's your heritage."

    "What's a heritage?"

    "Why, that's something that comes to you—that belongs to you by way a' your birth."

    "You mean Roseflower Creek belongs to me?"

    "It belongs to ever' one of us, child; ever' one of us who lives here. Mostly, we belong to it."

    "All of us?"

    "Yep. All of us," she said. "'Leastin' all of us who'll die here."

    I told Carolee that story first chance I got, Roseflower Creek

being our favorite spot and all. The water there ran all lazy like most the time. It had some fish we tried to catch with our hands, too, but we never got any. The flowers growing there were wild and near tall as us. We flattened out a spot between 'em to serve the mud cakes we made at the edge of the creek where the clay was all squishy. We mixed that clay with dirt we dug from the shallow water and had a fine old time making a mess of ourselves and our clothes.

    Carolee's daddy ended up working at the Scottsdale Cotton Mill just like Ray, only he got hisself promoted to being first man right under the boss man. He told me I could come over to see Carolee whenever it suited me. He was real nice—funny, too.

    "Lori Jean, you're welcome to come by anytime," he said. "Now we don't have nothin' fancy here. Ain't got a pot to pee in."

    But he was just funnin'. They had themselves a pot inside that flushed even. They was real lucky. We still used the shed out back. A couple of times Ray covered it over, dug another hole and moved it to another spot. Mostly he drunk too much, so it didn't get moved regular and it stunk something awful when the wind blowed.

    Carolee's daddy did some farming on the side, like a lot of folks did to grow some a' their own food. Not too long after Carolee's daddy started working at the cotton mill, he hired Ray to fix his tractor when it broke down. I didn't know Ray could do anything like that. Turns out he really couldn't. He just said he could 'cause he wanted the money. He mostly used whatever extra money he got for liquor, so it never did us much good.

    That was a real sad lie he told Carolee's pa, that he knowed about fixing tractors 'cause that one lie led to a whole chain a' lies. It's even sadder where we all ended up because of it. MeeMaw called it fate. She said life was one link looped to another like a fine-knitted sweater.

    "Drop one stitch, child, and the rest unravels."

    She sure was right. Ray dropped more than one stitch, and a lot of lives unraveled.

MeeMaw always said if you hate something long enough, it'll come back and bite ya'. So I know it was real bad of me to hate Darla Faye Brewster like I did. I was asking for it for sure, but I just couldn't help myself. Darla's daddy was the foreman at the Scottsdale Cotton Mill. Chester Britt was her brother, only they had different last names 'cause they had different daddies. Chester's daddy run off like mine did when he was little, and later on his mama married Noble Brewster and they had Darla.

    Nobody had much money around our parts. Most folks was 'bout as poor as the ones come before 'em. But Noble Brewster, he weren't as poor as the rest of us, him being the boss man at the mill and all. Darla Faye even had a shiny new red bicycle she got for Christmas one year. And when she banged it all up, well her daddy just got her another one.

    That weren't why I hated her, though. I thought it was real nice of her daddy when he give her that bike. She looked real fine riding it to school, I even told her so. But all she did was stick out her tongue like I said something awful to her. Fancy that. I was trying to be nice and let her know I didn't hold no grudge against her for what she done to me when I was just a little kid starting out in school.

    We was in first grade together, see. I wasn't real happy about going. I didn't have me any of that confidence, yet. I got me some when I met Carolee and then I got some more when I met Lexie, but that was later. So when I first started school I was real scared. I cried something awful to MeeMaw to let me back in the house 'cause Mama pushed me out on the back porch and locked the door.

    "Go on now, Lori Jean," she said. "You gotta go to school. That's the law." I was six. I sure didn't understand anyone making a law to scare the daylights out of little kids. I stayed on that porch, crying and crying. Mama come out once to tell me I'd be late.

    "Lori Jean, you get goin'. You'll be late your first day. They got a punishment for that!" she said.

    I reckon she thought that might help me get moving. She weren't a mean mama or nothing. But all that did was send the terror that was stuck in my throat clear down to my stomach, where it all come up along with the grits I had for breakfast.

    MeeMaw come outside then. She cleaned me up with a washcloth.

    "Lori Jean, honey," she said. "All you gotta do is follow them rules the teacher sets out and you'll do just fine." I trusted MeeMaw. She never told me any lies before, so I couldn't see no reason for her starting in just then. I went down that long dirt road and made my way to school.

    That year we had first, second, and third graders in our class all in one room. Mz. Pence was our teacher. She was real nice. I liked her right off. If I'da known she'd be so nice I might not of been scared a'tall. I might not of throwed my breakfast up even.

    Things was looking pretty good that first week. We got sectioned off into reading groups; those that could and those that couldn't. 'Course I couldn't, not having been to school a'fore. I was a Yellowbird. There was another group of birds that couldn't read, neither. They was Robins. The rest, they was Bluebirds. They were the big kids. They'd already been to school for a long time a'fore us. They bossed us around when Mz. Pence wasn't looking.

    Truth is, they strutted around like they was somebody and we weren't nobody. And we hadn't harmed anybody and was trying to please everybody. Add to that, we was fixin' to learn those letters that make up them words on the board we couldn't read. It was real hard. It was about all a body could stand.

    Even so, things was going along pretty good. I remembered what MeeMaw told me about them rules. And I was following them and following them. It was the third or fourth day, I think.

    Then Darla Faye ruined everything. Well, actually it was my own fault, but she didn't have to get her nose in edgewise. She made it a worse disaster than it already was. What happened is, one morning Mz. Pence, she had one of them reading groups, the Robins I think, up at the front in a circle reading about Spot jumping and Dick running and Jane seeing, stuff like that. Anyway, we wasn't to interrupt her 'lessen we had permission. Well, I had to go. So I was waving my hand and waving my hand to get me that permission. She didn't see me none. Then I
really
had to go, so I was praying and waving my hand and that didn't do no good, neither.

    Now I weren't stupid, and I knew I should just up and leave right then and there, do my business and be done with it. But it was the strangest thing. I was scared to break the rules and my feet was stuck to the floor like they was plumb glued down. It was real sorrowful, 'cause I couldn't hold it no longer and it come trickling down my leg. 'Fore long it was running down both legs. It made a puddle right on the floor in front of God and everyone He made that was in that schoolroom.

    If that weren't bad enough, that blabbermouth Darla Faye jumped right up and yelled out to everybody had ears. "Mz. Pence!
Lori Jean wet her pants! Lori Jean wet her pants!
" She yelled it out singsong like it were a tune on the hit parade. I wanted to kill that girl right on the spot and here I was a Christian even. My face was all hot. My shoes was all wet. They was squishing against my toes. I felt right poorly, I did.

    And all them kids all around the room started clucking about like they was a group a' chickens fixing to get fed, and that Darla Faye was the lead hen. She got everybody pointing and laughing, making terrible fun of me. I tried hard not to cry, but I did anyway. I wanted that floor to open right up and swallow me down; sink me clear to China, I was hurting that bad inside.

    Mz. Pence made it through all them hovering about me and shooed every one of them back to their desks.

    "That's enough," she said. "Ya'll go on back to your desks right now and work your assignments."

    She took my hand and we went out to the cloakroom. She knelt down on the wooden planks and took out her hanky. It was real pretty. It was white with lace on the ends and it had a pink rose on it with tiny little stitches. She dabbed at my tears, but they kept coming.

    "Ssssshhhh," she said. "Don't cry, Lori Jean. Don't cry, honey. It's gonna be okay. I promise," she said.

    She put the hanky up to my nose and waited for me to blow. I could smell the flowers in it. They smelled just like her. They smelled real good.

    "There," she said. "That's better."

    Then she folded that pretty hanky up and put it in my pocket. She did! And she said, "It's a very special hanky, Lori Jean, for a very special girl." Then she patted that hanky down in place. That was really something. She coulda took it home and washed it up good as new and here she give it to me.

    She tilted my chin up high right next to hers.

    "Go on home now, Lori Jean," she said. "Come back tomorrow—and don't be late," she told me. Her voice was as soft as the scarves MeeMaw knit.

    "Tomorrow it'll be okay. You'll see," she said. "I promise."

    My sweater was on the metal hook, lined up in a row with all the others. She knew which one was mine—she about knew everything. She took it down and helped me put it on. She even ignored the missing buttons and just patted the spots where they shoulda been.

    Then she led me to the front door of that schoolhouse and sent me on my way. She waved, so I waved back. She smiled. I tried to. Then she nodded her head, but I didn't nod mine. I wan't real sure about tomorrow. But then her eyes just grabbed my eyes and hung on. It was so strange. I could see those words she said.

    "It'll be okay—you'll see—you'll see." Her eyes was talking at me! And, don't you just know, it was. I loved Mz. Pence. I still do.

    But that Darla Faye—if I was anything close to being alive, I'd probably still hate her. Which reminds me of another mean thing she done. This time to Carolee back before MeeMaw died. Makes me roast just thinking 'bout it.

"I reckon I best wear that dress Lexie got me, MeeMaw. It's gonna be a real fancy party. Carolee's mama sewed a new dress for her, even, in that taffeta material's so pretty."

    "Oh my," MeeMaw said.

    "It's all white. And it's got pearl buttons; three of 'em right under the collar."

    "Sounds right fancy, indeed," MeeMaw said. "You best let me do your hair, child. New hairdo might make your dress look brand-new."

    "Her mama bought decorations, too."

    "My, my," MeeMaw said.

    Carolee was fixing to be eight, like me. My birthday come in April, only I didn't get me a party. Mama said, "Maybe next year, honey, we'll have us some extra money." So, I planned on having one myself that next year, maybe.

    On the morning of Carolee's party, MeeMaw went ahead and fixed my hair real nice. She put some braids in it and tied it up on top with a ribbon even. Looked real pretty with my dress, the white one with the little roses and the lace all around. I'd weared it a lot already, but it was the only one I had that wasn't mended. I didn't much mind wearing it again. Carolee liked it real fine. She was always admiring it.

    Carolee had invited all the kids our age from school. She didn't really want to invite that Darla, but what with Darla's daddy being the boss man and Carolee's daddy working for him there at the cotton mill, her ma said she had to. There was no getting around it.

    "Don't you fret now, Carolee. You be gracious to her, hear?" her ma said. I told her not to fret none, either.

    "Darla's mama always sends a good present along with her, Carolee. Just think about that, okay?" I told her.

    "Trudy Anne got a tea set from her last year even. It was real pretty. I'd like to have me one a' them. We could take it down to the creek when we make them mud cookies. Wouldn't that be nice?" I asked her.

    "It'd be nicer if she croaked," Carolee told me back. "We can play mud cookies without her dumb old tea set just fine."

    Poor Carolee. It was her birthday and here she was sad over that Darla Faye already and she hadn't even showed up yet. I come early and helped put the party stuff out. Carolee's ma had little hats for us to wear and these noisemakers left over from New Year's evening night, but they was right nice for regular parties, too. Horns and rattlers and these funny things that whip out like a long curly tongue when you blow.

    "I like these best, Carolee," I said. "Don't you?" She put one of them at my place. She's so nice. Her mama had us write everybody's name on a card so she could put them on the table where she wanted everyone to sit.