Tales from the BLUE SIDE with a splash of PINK

Chapter 11 part C- Poppies

2009-02-25T11:34:00.000-08:00

“Jobeth you are safe. It’s me Alan,” he reassured her, holding on for dear life. She fell into his arms heaving and sobbing, burying her face in her hands. The nightmare had passed. She was again with Alan in their new home. It was Alan: sweet, kind Alan, not Father James. “What happened to you?” Alan “Nothing,” Jobeth shrieked, clutching her arms protectively around her unbuttoned blouse. Alan sat down wearily beside Jobeth. Shame coursed through his heated body, all desire leaving him. He was nothing more than a selfish rogue. Why would Jobeth just give herself to him freely? They weren’t really married. “Who is Father James? Is he a priest?’ Jobeth’s head jerked up surprised. “How do you?” She shook her head confused. “Am I going crazy?” “Jobeth,” Alan lightly touched her damp arm. She pulled away, causing him to blush, embarrassed. He sat back some distance, giving her the space she wanted. He loved her so much; he felt he would die without her in his life. Now all his hopes for them were shattered. “Did this Father James do something to hurt you?” “Why should I tell you?” She cried, hunched into the corner of the couch. She knew this time would come. The time to expose what had happened with Father James and the outcome of that union, her son. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Her precious, tiny baby. Oh how her heart ached to hold him one more time! Images of his tiny grave littered with red flowers played itself out behind her closed eyes. Jonah was with him; he was not alone and by now the little flowers would have crept over onto his grave as well, blanketing them both with her love. She opened her eyes. It was time to reveal her shame and her heartache. It was time for her baby to be recognized. “I don’t know a thing about your past,” she said lamely trying one more time to avoid the inevitable. Alan would never want to live with her after he knew the truth. He would probably even find her unfit to care for Shawna. Fear enveloped Jobeth; she could not lose them too. “All right,” Alan jumped up from his seat. Shawna moaned in her sleep. Alan savagely raked his fingers through his hair, a habit Jobeth had come to recognize meant he was troubled about something. “Stay here. I will put Shawna to bed and then we are going to talk. It’s time we got everything out in the open.” How strange the night had turned on him. Teasing him to believe Jobeth was his. At least Shawna did not change, he thought. She was still the sweet little girl she always was. She was always happy to see him and never disappointed if he did something wrong. He sighed as he looked at her in his arms, then laid her on her bed and kissed her warm brow, tucking the slumbering child under her blankets. Quietly, he stood and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Jobeth was still huddled in the corner of the couch, sniffing. She watched Alan as he sat down on the opposite side and felt sad. He looked defeated and Jobeth knew she was responsible. Alan always tried so hard and she made him feel like a failure every time. I am not worthy of him, she thought, staring at Alan’s pained expression. It was time to be honest. At least Alan would not feel responsible for her outbursts any more. Alan looked to the ceiling and could not help but admire the white, smooth surface. He took a deep breath and glanced down at his rough knuckles. “I am not an orphan,” he began. Jobeth startled, sat up straight. “My parents are alive.” “What?” “Let me finish,” he said, not looking up. He did not want to tell this story. It was all a distant memory. A memory he cared not to remember, but if it would help Jobeth convey her own bad memories, then he would do it. “My parents, they were terrible. They drank moonshine all the time and beat me when they were liquored up. They told me I was nothing but a freeloader and wished I was never born.” He choked, refusing to look at Jobeth’ sympathetic eyes. “Anyway, when I was eight years old, one day they up and went to town. I was glad because I could have some peace for a bit. Well, they never returned. I did not know what to do. I was just a little thing. Days passed and I was starving. I wandered through the house crying out for help, but no one answered.” Alan paused remembering the fear he had felt as a boy. The pain resurfaced as fresh as if his parents had left him only the day before. “The nights were the worst. The night sounds...I used to hide under the bed, thinking every sound was a monster coming to eat me up. Finally, because I was starving, I went out on the streets and begged for food. I even hoped I would see my parents and ask them to take me back. I could handle the beatings but I could not stand being all alone.” He glanced at Jobeth and quickly turned away. She could feel his pain from the experiences he had endured as a child. How horrible it must have been to be abandoned by your parents! She had been lucky to have her parents for the short time she did. “The street folks took me in as one of their own. Especially one--Eddy.” Jobeth thought she heard Alan’s voice break slightly. “We decided to make it big on our own. We hopped on a train and we did all right. We weren’t rich by any means, but we had a home and a little money put aside. Eddy was the first real family I had ever had. I had only lived with beatings and hatred before. Eddy gave me love and comfort. He gave me everything. “Everything was going well until my parents came and took me away. I still don’t know how they found me. I told them I hated them and that I would not go with them. Damn, I was already ten by then and the only time I had ever been happy was with Eddy. He was my father in my heart and the only parent I needed,” a tear rolled down Alan’s cheek. “I asked them where they had been the last two years. They never answered me and took me anyway. They threatened Eddy and me, telling us they would have the sheriff arrest and hang Eddy for kidnapping. I had no choice but to go. Eddy cried when I left and I cried too. He was so good to me, Jobeth. No one had ever been so good to me. I knew what it was like to love and be loved in return. I was never allowed to see Eddy ever again. Two months later, he died.” Alan covered his face with his hands, his emotions taking control of him. It had been a long time since he had thought of Eddy and he was surprised how fresh the pain still was for losing his only father figure. “Eddy was old. That was true, and he was the kindest man I ever knew. My time with him was the best part of my childhood. I suppose that is why my parents took me from him. They could not stand to see me happy, especially with someone like Eddy. You see Eddy was black, and there was no way their son was going to be raised by a nigger.” Jobeth looked up at Alan. Jonah’s gentle face jumped into her mind. Oh how she missed him. “I despised these two people who claimed to be my parents. They hadn’t changed. They continuously insulted me and beat me within an inch of my life on more than one occasion. They drank day and night; if I ever saw them sober I couldn’t tell you. I don’t remember it. It was harder living with them the second time. Maybe it was because they kept badgering me for living with a black man, or maybe it was because I now knew what it was like to be loved. I had never known before. Eddy taught me I was good enough to love. That I was someone. That is so important to a child and something I plan for my own children to always know. I will never let them feel like they aren’t worth loving... Anyway, my parents were cruel. “When I was twelve I left to go to town and decided I would never go back. I met Todd and Adam on the road. We met up with others. Some stayed for a while and others left. I remember when we met Jonah.” Alan shook his head remembering and laughed sadly, “He was nearly dead when we found him. He reminded me of Eddy. Not just because he was black but also because he was like him: Kind and funny with a good heart. Now they are both gone. I used to believe Jonah was Eddy. Stupid, eh?” “No,” Jobeth said weakly, wanting to reach out and comfort Alan. He looked so lost sitting on the other side of the couch. It broke her heart to see him in such pain. It had never occurred to her that maybe he too had experienced such horrible events in his young life. “Now you know,” Alan said, wiping his face with a hanky he retrieved from his pants pocket. Jobeth looked at him mutely, not knowing what to say.She did not have time to say anything. Alan leaned forward a bit and looked straight into Jobeth’s eyes with his slanted feline ones. “I want to know what happened to you. I was honest with you, now it is time for you to be honest with me.” “I’m afraid to tell you,” Jobeth uttered barely louder than a whisper. Her hand clutched the sides of the cushions, digging in with all her strength. “Jobeth,” Alan said coming and sitting beside her. He pried her hand free from its death grip and lifted her chin to face him. Jobeth closed her eyes and turned her face away, tears beginning to form. He pulled her face towards him again, forcing her to look at him. “Jobeth, you don’t need to be afraid. I will never think badly of you.” He blushed in all honesty, the love plainly written in his face. “Oh, Alan, you will loathe me. I just know it and I can’t bear for you to hate me.” She couldn’t stand to look into his loving eyes and see the shock in them when she revealed her sordid story. “How could I hate you? I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything before,” Alan confessed. Jobeth looked into his strange, wondrous eyes. She had once thought they were unusual and odd. Now she saw the truth in them. He loved her and she knew without a doubt she also loved him.Closing her eyes, her heart started to deaden. How could Alan love her after she told him about herself? “Alan, I feel the same. I do and that is why I am so afraid of telling you.” “Jobeth,” Alan beamed, grasping her hands to his firm chest. His very soul was singing. “This is the most wonderful news I have ever heard.” “Alan, no.” Jobeth cut him off, placing the palm of her hand over his moist lips. He grabbed it and kissed the smooth surface. She gently pulled it away, not wanting to look at his face, the face she had grown to love so dearly. “I am an orphan,” she started. She had to tell him the truth, he deserved to know. If they were to have any future together, she was going to have to come clean about her past. Whatever happened, she would deal with the consequences. The weight of her secret was too heavy to keep any longer. “A few months before I met you and the others, my parents were killed in a train accident,” Jobeth breathed deeply, dreading to tell the rest of her story. Alan listened patiently, his face void of any signs of emotion. He knew Jobeth would watch closely to see if his expressions would change. She started by telling him about Pauli, and the tragic accident that took him from their family. Then about the loss of her parents, and her nightmares of how the hurricane had wiped out everyone on the train. Her chest tightened at the recollection of the horrible way her parents died. Jobeth couldn’t believe how it still hurt to think of it. It was nearly two years since their deaths. It suddenly dawned on her that she never spoke about how they had died to anyone before. “I loved my parents dearly.” She swallowed; a lump had begun to form in her throat. “They were good folks. Our lives together were happy. After their terrible deaths I was sent to a home for orphans. I had no living relatives to go and stay with. The people who ran the home were Mother Tomalina and Father...” Jobeth could not bring herself to say his name out loud. “Father James?” Alan asked, holding on tightly to her hand. He was beginning to see where Jobeth’s story was going. “Yes.” Jobeth whispered, her eyes fixed and blankly staring into space. Her throat felt so tight she could not swallow. “Was he a priest?” Alan asked. It would not be the first time it had happened with a man of the cloth. “No,” Jobeth said miserably. “We just had to call him that.” “Did he force himself on you?” Alan asked, focusing his eyes on Jobeth’s hand held firmly in his. Hearing the words spoken out loud, Jobeth could not hold back and burst into tears. Alan caught the agony about to release in his own throat. His arms automatically went around Jobeth and he held her shaking body tightly. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” he whispered into Jobeth’s hair as he stroked her thin back. He lifted her chin with his hands so she could look into his eyes. “I love you. The moment I saw you and Shawna asleep on that old mattress, I fell in love with you. Nothing will ever change that.” “But, Alan,” Jobeth sobbed, “what happened between--” “Jobeth,” Alan soothed, “he forced you. My darling, how could you blame yourself?” He gathered her into his arms as she sobbed like a child. “Alan, he said I provoked him, led him on. I didn’t think I did, honestly. The man had always repulsed me.” Jobeth broke into fresh tears. It was like a dam had been released inside of her and she could not stop the outpour. “Shh now, I know.” Alan patted her head, reassuringly. “If I ever see the animal, I will kill him for what he did to you.” He did not want Jobeth to know the anger he truly felt over her rape. The thought of Jobeth’s virginity being ripped away from her by another man and the thought of that man touching her and taking something of hers freely without permission made Alan barely able to see straight. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the horrible vision. “There is more, Alan,” Jobeth sobbed, holding him tight. Alan felt his own eyes burn with tears. He could barely stand to hear what she had to say next. “What is it darling? You can tell me,” he lied, hating every word she uttered. “I had--” she stuttered, remembering the tiny infant weighing barely more than a stick of butter, so small in her loving arms. “I had a son.” Alan pulled Jobeth abruptly away from him. “What?” he gasped, speechless and unable to hide the emotion flooding to his face. Jobeth began to wail. “Oh, Jobeth, I am sorry. I’m not angry. Please, you just surprised me.” He grasped her tightly to his chest again, feeling her tremble uncontrollably. Fear seized him. Where was the child? It didn’t make sense. Jobeth had said her parents died only a few months before they had met. “I ran away after the first time.” Jobeth wept. “I didn’t know I was pregnant until that time when I fainted at the lake with Tamara.” Alan remembered the incident and how frightened he had been for her. The pieces started to come together. He stupidly thought that Jobeth’s growing belly was caused by parasites and her deteriorating health during their first travels.“What happened to the baby?” he was confused. The child would have been born. Where was it and how could he have not known? “You and Shawna were gone to town,” Jobeth sniffed, wiping her red nose. “It was too early for him to be born. Jonah delivered him and he died shortly after. We buried him in the field. The same place where we buried Jonah.” Jobeth held her breath, waiting for a response from Alan. The truth was out. It was too late to turn back.“Is that why you insisted Jonah be buried there?” Alan asked trying to soak up all the shocking information. How could he have been so blind? He remembered how once for nearly a week Jobeth would not leave her room. When she did, her waist had shrunk away. Jonah had said Jobeth did not need a doctor that the doctor could not help the sickness she had. It all made sense to Alan now. Jobeth had been grieving the death of her child. How could they have kept it from him? He bent his head, aghast at the horrifying news. “Yes. Jonah wanted to be buried there, as did I. We named my little son after him.” Jobeth’s eyes began to tear again. “I did not want my baby, but when I held my little boy, I loved him as much as a mother could love her child. I will always miss him and the man he might have been. But I had Jonah and he was such a support for me. He saved my soul and now they are both gone.” “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have been there for you, too,” Alan said, numbed. “I was afraid you would have nothing to do with me. I thought you would find me disgusting. I did not want to lose the only family I still had,” Jobeth hiccupped-the horror of the past had already begun to lift. “You never need to worry about telling me something, Jobeth. I will always listen and never would I leave you,” Alan whispered afraid to let her hand go. “I am so sorry about your son. I cannot imagine your loss.” “I feel so awful. I hated the man who raped me, but I loved the son that was produced from it. Am I that sinful? I don’t deserve anything.” “No. Jobeth, you did no wrong. You loved your child, like all mothers should. You cannot punish yourself any longer. You have committed no sin.” Jobeth, now released from her guilt, clung to Alan. “What about Shawna?” He asked, stroking Jobeth’s hair. His feelings were hurt that she had not felt comfortable confiding in him sooner, but he kept his feelings to himself and concentrated on the baffling story being told. Jobeth had lived an entire life without him even realizing it and something told him there was more, meaning Shawna. He had always wondered how the two could be sisters. Besides the age difference, they looked incredibly different from one and other. “Is she really your sister?” “In my heart, yes, but no,” Jobeth said looking up at Alan. He looked down at Jobeth with more love than she felt she deserved. “Not by blood that is. She was one of the children at the home. Her sister was killed.” Jobeth stopped remembering how she had feared the same fate awaited her and Shawna. “He raped her.” The blood drained from Alan’s face. “I never knew her until I was going to run away. She begged me to take her with me. I almost didn’t. I was afraid she would slow me down. She ended up being the reason I kept going. No matter what, I needed to keep going for her.” “I remember what she looked like when I first saw the two of you.” Alan said. Jobeth’s head was cradled in the nook of his shoulder. “A frightened little lamb. No wonder, the poor thing . . . She was never raped?” Alan asked a few minutes later, afraid to hear the answer. “No, he seemed to prefer them a little older than her.” Jobeth sighed, starting to feel sleepy. It had been an exhausting night. “Will I ever be forgiven?” She still feared damnation, but not as strongly as before. “You never needed to be forgiven, Jobeth,” Alan yawned too. “You have suffered enough loss. You don’t need to be forgiven. You did nothing wrong.” His eyelids drooped and he could hear Jobeth’s steady rhythmic breathing. He held her tighter, feeling drowsy. “I love you, Jobeth, and I will wait forever for you,” Alan whispered falling asleep. The next morning, Jobeth awoke in his muscular arms. She got up and went outside to the chicken coop to get eggs for breakfast. The air felt cool and crisp as she walked back to the house. For the first time in a very long time, Jobeth felt peace in her soul. She stopped and gazed around at the view. The ground was frozen with a sheet of ice that covered everything. Wind blew her waist length hair out behind her and she looked the picture of an ice maiden standing in her frosty domain. Everything sparkled with life and promise. Alan loved her. He knew everything and still loved her. Finally, the weight on her soul was removed. She had nothing else to hide. She searched the sky. The morning sun shone down on her fresh up-turned face. She grinned and closed her eyes. “Oh, Jonah, I do miss you and I always will. As always, your words of wisdom have once again rung true. Please watch over my little one. Tell him I love him. Mama, Pappy, I am sorry, but I did not ask for what Father James did to me. I will not apologize for my son any longer. I love you, please watch over my boys and give them the love I cannot right now. I must say good bye and start living my life fresh again.” She looked away from the sky and continued walking toward the house. Right beside the door nestled in the corner, she spotted something red buried deep beneath the grass and other vegetation. She bent down pushing away the greenery to expose the tiny red flower trying desperately to shove through. Blood coursed through her warm and alive. It was the same red flower she had planted on her baby boy’s grave. The same flower which now covered both Jonah’s and the baby’s resting place. She thought of the dried seed head she had wrapped tenderly in a hanky in her drawer. They were still with her, they were always with her. Smiling down on the tiny flower, she thought of how she would weed out the other plants to let the flower grow and multiply. She stood up, dusted herself off and opened the door to where Shawna and Alan waited for her.

Chapter 11 part b- Poppies

2009-02-25T11:33:00.000-08:00

“Oh, Alan!” she cried out happily. George and Diana needed a week to pack and say their farewells to their children. Alan and Jobeth used that time to enroll Shawna in the local school, and to become accustomed to their new surroundings. Diana and George were dears, always there to help the younger couple with whatever they needed. Jobeth felt it was all too soon when the older couple sat in the buggy, glowing about their impending future. They wished Jobeth and Alan well and said their good-byes with warm embraces. “We are so lucky to get this house!” Jobeth said, jumping into Alan’s arms, laughing. Shawna sat on the couch with her dolls. She could not sit by and quietly watch Alan and Jobeth’s enthusiasm. Bouncing off her seat and sending her dolls tumbling to the plush rug, the bright child joined in the excitement, running into Jobeth and Alan’s waiting arms. “Are you happy, Jobeth?” Alan asked, holding her close to his strong chest. “Yes,” she breathed, deeply conscious of her breast pressed firmly against Alan. Tingling sensations rippled through her nipples and she felt them harden. Confused, she pulled away slightly. Alan was conscious of his effect on Jobeth and gripped her tighter to him. “Now that I have told everyone we are married, you won’t have to hide like before. Shawna can have friends at the house and you can, too.” He said in a husky voice. He looked deeply into Jobeth’s flushed face. His eyes dove into the depths of her soul. She felt a warmth between her legs and she pulled abruptly away from his embrace. “Let’s go see our animals.” Jobeth bent down to the giggling Shawna and lifted her onto her hip. She avoided Alan’s eyes, confused with these new emotions. “You heard your sister, Shawna, let’s go!” Alan clapped. He reached over and retrieved Shawna from Jobeth’s grasp easily placing the squirming six year old on his broad shoulders. Nothing was going to ruin his good mood, not even Jobeth’s hesitance towards him. He watched the back of her head as she demurely walked in front of him. Her long sandy hair was loose and it bounced softly down to her narrow waist. “We are going to like it here!” he roared, full of life, clasping Shawna’s legs firmly around his neck. The child wrapped her small hands under Alan’s stubbly chin and held on tight. “Go! Go! Go!” She squealed, roughly kicking Alan in the chest with little bare feet. Jobeth glanced over her shoulder shyly, unable to keep her heart from fluttering uncontrollably at the sight of Alan and Shawna so content together. “You heard our girl, Jobeth. Let’s go, go, go!” Alan teased, speeding past her. Shawna’s squeals trailed behind them. Jobeth blushed, turning a scarlet shade. She took a deep breath and exhaled, pausing a moment before she continued on. She needed to compose herself before she faced Alan again. Outside there was a small barn with a chicken coop nestled right beside it where chickens scurried to escape a bullying roaster. “Oh look,” Shawna pointed, “baby chickies!” Alan put the excited youngster down and opened the door to let her in. Shawna ran inside and began to chase the yellow, chirping puffballs. The mother hen, angered by Shawna’s pursuit of her offspring, pecked furiously at her exposed ankles. “Ouch!” giggled Shawna, gently pushing the mother chicken aside with her foot. Jobeth chuckled to herself. Shawna looked beautiful standing amongst the clucking fowl, her face animated. The child bent and retrieved a squeaking chick and nestled it to her cheek lovingly. Jobeth fondly remembered similar events that had happened in her own childhood at about the same age. She took a deep refreshing breath. It was good to know Shawna would have memories of the softness of a baby chicks’ down rubbed against a cheek. Maybe it would help to erase all the bad ones she had accumulated over her short lifetime.“Let’s go see the other animals,” Alan said over Jobeth’s shoulder. She could feel his breath warm on her neck, as goose bumps jumped forth from her skin like seedlings springing out of the newly dampened earth after a rain. Jobeth nodded, hesitantly rubbing the goose bumps on her arms. For some reason she didn’t yet understand, she was suddenly uncomfortable being alone with Alan. “Shawna, are you staying here?” Alan asked, leading Jobeth towards the barn. “Yes!” she grinned as a furry chick pecked at her hand. Jobeth laughed despite her apprehension. The sight of Shawna being attacked by chickens was too funny not to respond. She sighed nervously and followed Alan obediently towards the barn, feeling rather foolish. This was Alan, what was there to be afraid of? Inside the barn a medium size brown cow and her calf greeted them. The beast mooed lazily in response to their arrival and continued to chew on the yellow hay littering the barn floor. Her calf ignored the visitors and suckled busily from its mother’s udders. “We will have to get some pigs,” Alan said, walking over to the stall to examining the cow. “Maybe even a horse and carriage.” Queenie sauntered into the barn, her tail wagging playfully. She bent down low on her front legs and yipped at the mother cow. The cow, unmoved by Queenie, mooed back at the dog. Queenie, insulted, turned on her haunches and ran out the door, barking once more in defiance over her furry shoulder. Alan and Jobeth both began to laugh, the earlier tension between them melting away. Jobeth smiled warmly as she bent down and shooed the little brown calf away from its mother’s milk supply. Everything was going to be all right. “This is my dream house,” Jobeth said to Alan later that evening. They sat side by side on the couch, Jobeth admiring the handiwork of the furniture. Diana must have worked hard to make the cushions fit the carved wood frames. She traced her finger down the tightly sewn seams of the flush wine cushions, her eyes focusing on Shawna, who lay fast asleep on a matching chair. “Ever since Shawna and I ran away...” Jobeth stopped herself. She didn’t want to remember those times. Too much pain would surface, with the memory of other times. One bad memory would lead to another and another. This was a happy time. She had to learn to let go of the past and all that happened in it. “What?” Alan asked. He had always been curious about what had happened to Jobeth before he found her asleep on the dirty mattress with Shawna held tight in her grip. “Nothing,” she stood up, avoiding Alan’s eyes. “Shawna is asleep and we should put her to bed. Which room will be ours?” She reached down to pick up the sleeping body. Shawna’s pale blonde hair haloed her angelic face causing Jobeth’s heart to swell with love. She bent and kissed the warm, flushed cheek like a mother would a favored child. Alan stared at Jobeth, holding his breath. He couldn’t stand not to touch her any longer. He stood up and quietly walked behind her. Nervously he reached out, placing a gentle hand on her slender shoulder. Jobeth turned her hazel eyes upon him, and then quickly shifted her gaze down to her shoes. Alan summoned all his courage. She had responded to him in the barn. She had. It wasn’t his imagination. Jobeth began to shake uncontrollably. She was torn between fear and something else she could not explain. Something warm and good. “I thought...” Alan said, slowly caressing Jobeth’s arm with his finger. His breath became heavier and his heart pounded uncontrollably. “Since everyone thinks we are married...” He hesitated then leaned over and softly kissed the nape of Jobeth’s neck. A shiver raced through her whole body, like the rumble of thunder. Alan felt the goose bumps rise beneath his lips and continued to softly kiss her neck, savoring the tiny bumps. She was torn between pleasure and fear. Against her will, her hands combed through Alan’s soft chestnut hair, pulling his head closer to her waiting neck. Alan, encouraged by Jobeth’s grip on his head, kissed her straight, fine-boned jaw. She let out a sigh as Alan, unable to hold back, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard on the mouth. She acknowledged his touch, grasping him to her heaving chest like a starved person finally handed food He slid his tongue between her parted lips and without hesitation she opened her mouth and received him greedily. “Oh, Jobeth,” Alan moaned, clutching her savagely to him, afraid she would suddenly vanish and leave his arms empty, “I have wanted this for so long.” “Alan...” Jobeth sighed arching her head back allowing him to kiss her throat and collarbone. Warmth permeated Jobeth. She didn’t want his kisses to stop. Each time his lips touched her skin, she felt electrical current crackle through her. She felt Alan’s hand unbutton her blouse and his warm wet kisses cover her chest, slowly creeping to her breast held tight in her corset. The stays were quickly loosened and her perky breasts fell free from their imprisonment. Alan swallowed hard at the perfect beauty of the round flesh, with small rosebud nipples. “Oh Jobeth, I love you so,” he exhaled in a husky voice. His hand caressed the circular form. The nipple instantly became erect. Unable to leave the other bare he gently stroked it with his bottom lip. Jobeth, completely enthralled, held Alan’s head to her breast, wanting to cry out with delight. She jumped as she felt Alan’s lips encircle her raised nipple. It was moist and good. He began to suck gently and then with more fervor. Alan felt the uncomfortable confinement of his enlarging groin. His hands encircled Jobeth’s back and he pulled her to him, eagerly pressing her to his throbbing member hidden behind his trousers. She went into his arms willingly, pressing her pulsing body to Alan’s hard one. He rubbed against her intensely and Jobeth gasped. Suddenly Father James stood before her, fat and ugly, his purple snake enveloped in mangy black curly hair. Memories of him forcing that vile stick savagely into her flooded her mind. Revolted, she pulled away clutching her blouse over her exposed breast. “No!” Jobeth began to cry, horrified at what was happening between them. Alan stood stunned, his erection becoming increasingly painful in his pants. “Jobeth?” He reached out to her. “Stay away from me,” she yelled, not seeing Alan any longer, but Father James. She had been transported back in time to the house that had caused her so much pain.“Give me the whip, Father James. I don’t want to play these games. I promise I will never wet the bed again.” Jobeth fell to the ground, crying hysterically, pounding it viciously with closed fists. Alan, dumbfounded, dropped behind Jobeth and grabbed her arms, trying to prevent her from hurting herself. Everything was going terribly wrong.

Chapter 11 part a Poppies

2009-02-25T11:31:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 11 — They moved on until late in the night. Exhausted, Alan tied the horses to a tree and the two went to sleep in the back of the wagon. Jobeth slept snuggled up to Shawna while Alan lay alone in a roll on the floor. The wagon had become their new home. In the morning Alan caught a rabbit for breakfast. They had plenty of food: the meat dried for winter and their store of vegetables and dried fruits and grains, but there was no reason to dip into their supplies when food was plenty off the land. Jobeth tried to push aside the pictures that came to her mind, but she could not stop the images of Jonah arguing with Shawna over who caught the rabbit or of him standing next to her chatting away while helping her prepare the evening meal. She wanted to cry when she thought of him but tears were a luxury she could not afford at the moment. Landscape passed by without Jobeth noticing. She easily conformed to traveling again and figured she would never be settled in one spot. Something would always happen to uproot them again. The difference this time was she had no urges to lay down roots. She had all she needed and that was Alan and Shawna. They passed town after town in their covered wagon. Alan knew eventually they would have to stop. Shawna needed to be in school and Jobeth needed her own home, whether she believed it or not. He knew this and still continued pushing the horses on. As they moved farther south, the weather warmed. Even though winter had begun, traveling was not a problem. Covered in warm blankets at night and dressed in cozy clothing, there was no reason not to continue on their journey. How nice it was now that they had the leisure of the horses. They became healthier and stronger as their hearts and souls healed. “Jobeth?” Alan asked, flicking the horse’s reins. “Yes?” Jobeth responded, seated snugly beside him in the front seat of the wagon. Evening was creeping up on them. Soon they would need to stop for dinner. The gray sky was cool and the bare trees swayed in the breeze. Alan and Jobeth could hear Shawna playing contentedly in the back with her dolls. Her small voice in harmony with nature’s music. “We are gonna have to stop soon,” Alan said, looking at the gravel road. It was well-worn, a telltale sign that a town lay ahead. “Yes, Shawna must be hungry.” Jobeth clasped her mittened hands together, shivering. The night air was unusually cool. “No, that is not what I mean,” Alan continued. Jobeth pulled the dark brown woolen cloak she wore tightly around her ears and bent her covered head down. “I know you don’t feel ready yet, but it has been three months since Jonah...” “I know, Alan,” Jobeth sighed, looking at him. She sniffed, wondering if her nose was as red as his. “It’s just hard. I’m not sure I am ready to start again.” “Shawna needs school, friends, a home. We all do,” Alan said, staring out at the starlit sky. He understood how Jobeth felt. He too didn’t feel ready to stop moving yet. The last three months had been so peaceful. He pushed out his breath, loosely between his lips, causing the air to steam up in front of him like smoke.“You are right. I know you’re right,” Jobeth nodded, her heart fluttering. Alan grinned and absently placed a mittened hand on her blanket-covered lap. “Soon, just not yet,” he said, patting her leg reassuringly. The next morning, Jobeth was sleeping soundly as Queenie lay curled up protectively beside her. “Jobeth wake up!” A male voice called from the back of the wagon. “Alan?” Jobeth groaned in protest, turning over and hiding her face in the quilts. The sun was beaming bright into the wagon, stinging Jobeth’s unadjusted eyes. “I am exhausted,” she moaned, noticing the wagon was not swaying with movement. Alan must have stopped for some reason. “Now honey, I want you to see this house with me,” Alan said in an excited voice. “Honey?” She sat up abruptly. Alan was holding the canvas of the wagon open, his body shielding most of the sun’s rays from penetrating inside the dark retreat. He beamed at Jobeth, winking at her. Confused, she quickly arranged her hair. Alan held his hand out, imploring. “Please play along?” he whispered into her ear as she jumped down from the step. Squinting from the bright rays, she adjusted her eyes and looked around. The wagon was stopped in front of a little white house. A couple in their early sixties was standing respectfully by the horses, waiting it seemed, for her and Alan. “This is my wife, Jobeth,” Alan presented to the elderly couple. He placed his arm around her waist and gave a light squeeze, causing a shiver to bolt up Jobeth’s spine.The couple walked over, hands outstretched in greeting. “You two look young to be married,” the man said, squinting his gray eyes. He was a handsome man with a mane of snow-white hair and a strong tanned build, made hard by work in the sun. “Oh, stop it, George. I married you when I was just sixteen,” said the small woman beside him. She pushed him aside easily in spite of the difference in their sizes and raised her hand out toward Jobeth, warmly. “Hello, dearie. I am Diana and this big old lug is my husband, George.” “Hello,” Jobeth replied rather shyly, wanting to hide behind Alan. Diana was the first new person she had spoken to in over a year. She felt nervous, but Diana had a kind face with light blue shimmering eyes and soft blonde hair showing only the slightest gray. She accepted the older woman’s hand and was pleased how soft and warm it felt. “Well,” Alan said clapping his hands together if in prayer, “I guess we can see the house now,” Jobeth looked at Alan questioningly.“Of course.” Diana smiled sincerely, gently dropping Jobeth’s hands and turning towards the little white building. “Where is Shawna?” Jobeth asked searching for the little girl. With all the confusion she had forgotten about her little charge. As her eyes scanned the area, she could not believe the magnificent view. Two large oak trees towered over a little two-story house. That was what it was, but to say it was merely a house would be an understatement. The dwelling screamed out “home.” A swing hung from one of the oak tree’s branches. In the summer the grass would cover the front lawn in a counterpane of green with flowers trimming the edges of the house.“Shawna is in the back yard playing with our grandbabies,” Diana said, linking her arm in Jobeth’s, comfortably. She began to lead her toward the house. “Your husband here says you are newlyweds. Big responsibility having to raise a little sister on top of just becoming a wife. Once the babies start coming, you are going to have your hands full.” Diana exclaimed. Jobeth’s heart jumped. Suddenly she felt frightened and didn’t understand why. She looked back beseechingly to Alan who was engrossed in his conversation with George. He did not notice the anxiety in Jobeth’s eyes. “Shawna is no trouble to Alan or me. We love her dearly,” Jobeth said a bit defensively. “She is a blessing.” Diana looked at the young girl’s wounded face. This couple did seem awfully green to her. But what tugged at Diana’s heart most was the sorrow in Jobeth’s eyes. She had seen that look before in ones who had beheld and lost too much in life. Diana also saw how those same pained eyes would glow lovingly at the boy, Alan. He shined just as brightly at Jobeth. “Children are all a blessing,” Diana smiled kindly. Jobeth forced her lips into a grin and followed Diana into the little house. It was beautiful. It had two separate bedrooms plus a loft. There was a secluded room for cooking and eating, plus another room for sitting and relaxing. This room boasted two chairs and a couch jacketed in a rich burgundy material. Best of all was the outhouse. It was indoors! An odd-looking chain hung from a tank attached to the wall. When you pulled it, the waste was flushed away. It was truly amazing. Jobeth and Alan had never imagined such a device. Diana and George laughed at the young couple’s disbelief and had to demonstrate how it worked. “They are called toilets and they are the wave of the future. Soon every home will have one,” exclaimed Diana, her hands clutched to her full chest. “Now that you have seen our little place, what do you think?” “It is the most beautiful residence I have ever seen,” Jobeth was unable to hide her awe. Alan smiled proudly at her excited face.“There is the barn too, and a few animals,” George said, holding the hand of his bride of fifty years. “You don’t have to start from scratch. We know how hard it is to start a home when you are newlyweds.” “Do you want the house, Jobeth?” Alan asked, clutching her hands tightly in his. “Of course,” Jobeth commented in disbelief. She had never dreamed of such luxuries. “But how? You don’t even have a job?” “I got a good paying job in town while you were sleeping. In fact, after I was hired, I asked around if there was a house I could buy and was told about George and Diana. All we need to do is trade Diana and George our horses and wagon, plus a hundred dollars.” Jobeth couldn’t believe their luck. Could it be possible the beautiful house could be theirs? “That is it?” She squeaked. A hundred dollars was a lot of money. It was all the money Alan had saved. A near fortune. But a home such as George and Diana’s was a dream comes true. “Yes,” Diana chuckled, placing a hand on a bewildered Jobeth’s shoulder. “George and I want a change. The children are grown and have families of their own. Now it is our time. Like when we were first married.” George reddened and coughed, embarrassed. It had been his dream, when they first got married, to travel across the country, but Diana kept having one baby after the other. Now, finally his dream was coming true. All he wanted was Diana by his side and leather reins in his calloused hands. “The horses are fine beasts. We aren’t really giving you a deal, Miss.” Jobeth nodded kindly to the older man. If he only knew how they had started out. This house was too much to ever dream of. “Alan says you have been traveling for months and it is beautiful,” George said, excited. His adventure was about to begin. He would never have guessed at sixty-eight years of age his life’s wish would come true. “Wonderful,” Jobeth cooed, remembering the therapeutic power of the open plains. Yes, her heart was forever changed with the loss of Jonah and her baby, but the journey to this little town had begun to heal the wound their deaths had left. “Well, Jobeth?” Alan asked, staring into her hazel eyes, looking incredibly handsome. Jobeth’s blood felt warm in her veins and her heart fluttered uncontrollably. “Do we take it?” “I would be a fool if I said no,” she said, overcome with joy, “Yes, we’ll take it.” Jobeth spun around, arms outstretch like a gleeful child in the center of the family room.

Chapter 10- Poppies

2009-02-21T14:16:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 10 — Alan went to work as usual the next morning, but he couldn’t shake feeling restless and nervous. Something deep in his bones told him to pick up everything and everyone and run. When he voiced his thoughts out loud to Jonah, he was surprised at his reaction. “Alan, we could be jumping to conclusions. We got ourselves a nice little life here and I am tired of running.” Alan, feeling defeated, nodded. He too was tired of running. He stood beside his friend, wanting him to take the burden he suddenly felt off of his shoulders. “Be careful today,” Alan said as he held Shawna in his arms. She was beginning to be too big to carry. Her long legs dangled over Alan’s hips as she clutched her slender arms around his neck. “We will,” Jonah replied. Jobeth came up from behind him. “Good. Give Shawna a kiss and we’ll be off.” Alan smiled. Shawna stretched her arms out to Jobeth and she hugged and kissed the six year old. Once Alan and Shawna left, she went to the water basin sitting beside the dinner table and began to wash up. Edna needed to be milked and she wanted to make Jonah’s favorite dish for supper: roast pork with potatoes and carrots in with thick gravy. Later, Jobeth sat humming on a stool, tugging Edna’s teats. Milk squirted into the pail making a pleasant hissing sound. Jonah was behind the house down by the creek slaughtering one of the largest pigs for supper. It would supply the meat for many meals to come. Suddenly a thundering roar pierced the air, causing the world around Jobeth to vibrate. Edna stumbled backwards and mooed kicking the pail of milk over. Jobeth jumped up, her heart leaping into her throat. Her hands raced to her neck as dread filled her. Something terrible had happened. She ran outside to see where the noise came from, looking out toward the creek. There was a man who looked like the fellow Simpson, with a shotgun, running away. Jobeth’s eyes darted one way and then another as she started to run in slow motion. “Where is Jonah?” Jobeth asked through clenched teeth. She turned to the side of the house and noticed two lumps slumped on the ground. They were not moving. Jobeth gasped and sped up her pace. “Jonah!” she screamed as she drew closer to the figure hunched beside the butchered pig. “Oh no...” She moaned as she fell beside his crumpled form. A dark pool of blood encased him. The source of the blood was a deep wound in his stomach. “Noooo...” Jobeth cried, tears falling uncontrollably. Panic overwhelmed her as she gently touched Jonah’s sweaty brow. “Jobeth,” he whispered, spitting blood through stained red teeth. “Oh no, Jonah,” she whimpered, picking his head up and cradling it in her lap. “I am dying,” he winced--his eyes were bloodshot and yellow. “No,” Jobeth whined, “I won’t let you.” She hugged his limp head close to her heaving chest. “Jobeth . . . you have to listen.” Jonah wheezed again. His head felt fuzzy and he had a hard time thinking straight. “Jonah!” Jobeth wailed, her heart breaking. “You are my brother and I won’t let another brother die! The people I love can’t always die! How much do I have to lose for the sins I have committed?” Jonah sputtered, spitting up fresh blood. “Listen to me . . . remember what I said about life not always giving you what you want.” Jobeth wiped a tear from her eye with her fingers. A crumpling frown crossed her face. “Shut up!” she yelled. “Life is not fair. How could this be happening?” Her tears fell on Jonah’s paling face. “I have to say what is on my mind before I meet my maker,” Jonah’s eyes became wide, the black orbs drilling into Jobeth. “I don’t want you to mope around after I’m gone. I will be with God and baby Jonah. I am not sad to go to them.” Weakly he reached above his head and grabbed Jobeth’s hand, squeezing with all his strength. “And I will always be with you.” Blood bubbled from the wound in his belly. “You gotta be strong for Alan and Shawna . . . They need you.” Jobeth was bawling, but she continued to listen. She was covered in Jonah’s blood as she clung to him, hoping her love for him would keep him with her. “Alan,” he spat, his voice becoming weak. “He loves you so much. He wants to do good by you and Shawna.” He closed his eyes, his chest not moving. “Jonah!” Jobeth screamed in terror. His eyes fluttered open and looked around aimlessly, unable to focus. “Don’t cry, Jobeth,” Jonah smiled a bloody smile. His eyes seemed fixed, gazing at the sky. “I’ll be watching over little Jonah, telling him his ma loved him.” “Don’t say that, I need you here with me,” Jobeth cried, rubbing her bloody hand across her already blood-smeared face. She hugged Jonah’s heavy head harder to herself. “I love you. You are the best friend I have ever had. You make me want to go on when I don’t want to. Who will help me run the house or help Shawna and Alan? We need you here.” “I love you, too, but it is time for you to go on alone without me. You don’t need my hand to hold anymore.” He smiled peacefully. “Tell Alan I love him and our girl Shawna.” Jonah squeaked in a high voice. “I will Jonah,” Jobeth sobbed. He grabbed Jobeth’s arms, embracing her body, weakly. “I can’t see! I can’t see…” “Oh, Jonah!” Jobeth cried, hugging his limp body. “Please don’t die. Please . . . please don’t die.” “The living needs you, not the dead. Don’t make me cry when I am gone cause you dying down here,” Jonah barely whispered. “You promise me,” he strained. She lifted his face and gently cupped it in her blood stained hands. Tenderly, she placed an upside down kiss on Jonah’s bloody wet lips, her forehead resting on his chin. “I promise,” she said closing her eyes. She felt Jonah give one final sigh on her cheek, warm and moist, and threw back her head and howled mournfully. She wailed out her pain to the clear blue sky as she held tight to the lifeless body of her friend. That night, Alan walked into the small house feeling dread. Something was wrong. It was too quiet. “Go to your room and play,” he said to Shawna. She looked at him with puzzled blue eyes. “Git.” He said softly but lovingly. He shooed her off with his hands and she skipped off to play with her dolls, grabbing an apple out of the basket on the table. Alan looked around the empty room. It was neat and tidy—it looked like what he usually returned home to, but there was no smell of dinner perfuming the air. Jobeth was nowhere to be seen, when she normally would be bustling around setting the table with Jonah chatting around her. Something was terribly wrong. Alan felt it the moment he’d walked into work that morning. Simpson was not there until later in the day, which was unusual. He acted strange and distant to Alan once he returned. Fear enveloped him. Something was just not right. He immediately ran out the door. Shawna, sitting on her and Jobeth’s bed, listened to the door slam shut. She clutched her doll close to her small chest watching the entrance to her room. Something was very wrong. It did not take Alan long to spot Jobeth slumped over Jonah’s dead body. He ran up to her, panting. Grief spread over his face instantly and a moan escaped his throat. Jobeth lifted her blood-streaked face to Alan’s tortured one. “He’s gone.” She said hoarsely reaching her hand out to him. Alan’s knees gave out from under him and he fell beside Jonah and Jobeth, a sob caught in his throat. He placed a hand over the open, glazed eyes of Jonah and closed them, searching Jobeth’s grief-stricken face for questions he already knew the answers to. “It’s my fault,” he choked, his words barely audible. Tears formed in his beautiful eyes. Jobeth gently took his hand away from Jonah’s eyes, and held it tightly. “No,” she said through a stuffy nose. “Not your fault,” she repeated, shaking her head. She took a deep breath and rubbed tears out of her eyes. Alan looked at Jobeth with quivering lips. He began to cry. Jobeth embraced him and stroked his soft brown hair, lovingly. Jonah had been right again. Alan and Shawna would need her even more now. “I should have moved us last year when I thought there might be danger,” Alan cried, holding on to Jobeth for life. “No, Alan,” Jobeth soothed softly. “It was winter and we were freezing. You did what you had to do. For us. And we were so happy, if just for a little while.” “But,” Alan said, red-eyed, “I knew I should have stayed home today.” “No, Alan,” Jobeth whispered, her fingers running through his hair. She could not help noticing Jonah’s dried blood coated her fingers. “No one knew this would happen. The fault for Jonah lying here is that Simpson and his prejudice! His fear of Jonah, not yours, and Jonah knew that.” “How could he?” Alan begged, wanting the guilt that plagued him to leave. “He told me, and he told me he loved you.” Jobeth smiled, giving birth to fresh tears. “He loved us all and he wasn’t afraid to die anymore. He said there are many waiting for him in heaven so he won’t be alone.” Jobeth sighed and looked down at Jonah. It did not even look like the boy she had loved and lived with. It was just an empty shell. Jonah was already gone. She cupped her hand to her mouth trying to control the urge to burst out crying. Alan needed her to be strong for him. Later she could mourn for her beloved friend, in private. “He told me we were not to cry for him. We had to be strong for each other. That we still had each other and Shawna.” Alan placed his head in Jobeth’s lap and cried. She put her arms protectively around him and rested her head on his back as Alan shook with grief. “We have to be strong for each other,” she cried, Jonah’s words ringing in her ears. “Jonah was a very wise man. One of the wisest men I have ever had the pleasure to know . . . I promised him we would be strong Alan . . . I promised.” She held him and cried with him until night fell across the land and the cold became unbearable. “Shawna will start to look for us.” Alan sniffed, releasing his grip on Jobeth. She nodded, trying to fix her hair. “I will have to clean up before she sees me.” Jobeth stood up on sore, cramped legs. She had been crouched in the same position since finding Jonah that morning. “What do I tell her?” Alan choked back a sob about to release again. “The truth . . . the truth,” Jobeth said turning to the creek. She walked away slowly, like a mythical creature of the forest, leaving Alan standing and staring after her. “I am so in love with her Jonah,” Alan whispered to the air. Jobeth’s form faded out of sight. An unseasonably warm breeze blew over him, blowing into his ear. He could have sworn he heard, “I know,” in its warmth. He looked down at the empty body of Jonah. “I will miss you,” Alan said numbly. “More than you know.” Leaves rustled in the trees behind Alan. He turned back, confused. There were no leaves on the trees. They had fallen off days before. They buried Jonah the next day beside Jobeth’s son. Alan was confused by Jobeth’s insistence as to where Jonah was to rest. “I want him there. It is very beautiful and peaceful in the summer. Jonah once told me it was like God was right there,” Jobeth said, trying to avoid Alan’s questioning eyes. “All right then. That is where he would probably want to be buried.” When the three mourners reached the sight of the burial, Alan looked at the cross already placed in the ground. “It looks like someone else thought this was a good place,” he said to Jobeth. She looked away from him, guilt flooding her soul. She wanted to tell Alan that it was her son that lay beneath the tiny grave marker. She wanted to reveal to him how Jonah had asked to be buried here, beside his namesake, but she was afraid--afraid she would lose Alan if he knew the truth. It was a chance she was not going to take. Alan began digging as Jobeth and Shawna stood back, teary-eyed and watched. They cried openly without reservation as Alan began to scoop dirt over the wooden coffin. No more deep laughter echoing through the day. No more talks. No more Jonah. He was gone forever. Jobeth stood staring at the two crosses erect in the cool air. Alan was on one side of her and Shawna on the other. “Good-bye, dear friend. I will miss you forever. Take care of mine in heaven. My life will always have a hole without you in it. We have been blessed to have you in our lives, if just for a short time. Sleep well and one day we will all be together again,” Jobeth said, looking at both crosses. “I will never forget you,” she said to both crucifixes. Alan placed a warm arm around her shoulder and she smiled at him as she clutched Shawna’s hand. “We’ll be all right,” Jobeth coaxed Alan. “If anything should happen to you two . . .” Alan breathed, bending his face into Jobeth’s loose hair. “Shhh,” Jobeth placed her index finger to Alan’s moist lips. “Nothing is going to happen to us.” She hugged the two sobbing people, holding them dearly to her. “Please,” she prayed in her mind, “please don’t take them from me too. That would be too cruel to bear.” Alan went into town later in the day to sell the livestock, while Jobeth and Shawna packed their belongings. “Don’t open the door for anyone,” he said to Jobeth before he left. “I won’t,” Jobeth said, cupping Alan’s face in her hands. They felt warm and smooth. He smiled warmly into her kind face, hating to leave, but having no choice. Winter was nearly upon them and he wanted to purchase a horse and covered wagon to protect them from the elements. He did not want to travel on foot again. It had nearly killed them the last time. They had come too far to regress back to the beginning. They were not the same people they had been a year ago. “Jobeth?” Shawna asked, handing the older girl some of her dresses. They were in their bedroom sorting through their belongings. It was the last room to pack. “Yes,” Jobeth said absently folding cloths. “At school . . .” Shawna stopped, afraid of the answer she would receive. “What is it Shawna?” Jobeth looked up from her folding. Shawna’s blonde head was lowered and her two braids hung down on each side of her small shoulders. “Well, the children said I would be taken away,” Shawna’s eyes looked beseechingly at Jobeth. Sympathy filled Jobeth and she reached out, grasping Shawna’s light form, bringing the child into her comforting embrace. “No one will ever take you away from me, Shawna. No one,” she said earnestly. Queenie jumped up from her resting place on the floor and began to growl. A shiver ran up Jobeth’s spine. Both she and Shawna turned to the door. “Stay here,” she ordered, standing up. Queenie stood protectively beside Jobeth, teeth bared. “Jobeth,” Shawna squealed. Jobeth put her palm up to silence the frightened child and crept to the locked front door leading outside. “Come on out, you whore!” came a female voice from behind the entrance. “We don’t want trash like you around our children!” yelled another female voice. A chorus of approval rang out. Jobeth peeked out the window and saw about twenty women with small children held tight to their sides. One plump, middleaged woman with a toddler in her arms lifted a rock from the ground and hurled it at the window. The glass shattered, causing Jobeth to jump, screaming as her hands covered her ears. Shawna came running out of the room, terrified. “Jobeth!” she squealed, frightened. “The loft! Go to the loft and hide under the bed!” Jobeth said, running to Shawna. Queenie started to bark as rocks began to pelt against the little house, crashing through windows and denting the sides. Shawna scurried up the stairs and looked down at Jobeth with wide, frightened eyes. “Send out the child, whore,” came an angry voice from outside. Jobeth grabbed the snarling Queenie and wrapped her arm protectively around the furry neck. The dog licked Jobeth’s face, whining and growling, baring her teeth menacingly at the door. “It’s all right girl,” Jobeth soothed. “Come on Alan, hurry back.” She glued her eyes to the door and did not move, knowing Shawna would be scared up in the loft alone. Jobeth wrung her hands together, feeling guilty. She was not there to comfort the poor child. “Go upstairs, Queenie. Go see Shawna.” Jobeth spoke into the animal’s ear. The dog whined turning to go up the stairs. She looked back at Jobeth, ears alert. “Go see Shawna,” Jobeth hissed, grabbing a chair to place under the door handle. Queenie obeyed and went to the waiting arms of the little girl. Shawna was relieved to have the dog’s warm furry body with her. “If you think you can whore around our town, you got another think coming!” yelled another voice. Jobeth grabbed a log from the woodpile and stood in a defensive pose, ready. She would do what she had to, to protect herself and Shawna. No one was taking Shawna from her, and no one was going to hurt either one of them again. “Alan, please hurry back,” Jobeth whispered, afraid more than she had ever been in her life. “Hurry…” That afternoon, Alan rode up the familiar path to the house he had shared with Jobeth, Jonah and Shawna for more than a year. He was seated on the front bench of a covered wagon. A brown mare and a spotted brown and white filly pulled the cart easily up the path. He reached the house and noticed the battered appearance. Glass was shattered everywhere and rocks littered the once immaculate entrance. Jobeth and Jonah had cleared out the weeds and branches that littered the path, taking care to give it a simple, yet appealing exterior. Now it was unrecognizable. Panic seized him. “Whoa!” He reined in the horses, which gave a startled snort. Alan dropped the reins and jumped off the wagon, running to the sealed door. It was jammed and he pushed full force with his shoulder trying to get in. “Jobeth, Shawna!” he yelled frantically, pushing the door slightly ajar. “Alan?” he heard from the other side. Relief filled his soul. He could hear Jobeth moving objects away from the door. “Oh, Alan!” she cried, opening the door to his bewildered face. She had never felt so glad to see him as she flung herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, afraid that his husky presence might not be real. “Where is Shawna?” he peered over Jobeth’s shoulder. Rocks and glass littered the once tidy room. “I’m here!” Shawna chimed over the railing of the loft. “Thank God,” he panted, squeezing Jobeth back. “Oh, Alan, we were so frightened. They called me horrible names and they threw stones. They came to take Shawna.” “Don’t cry. They’re gone now,” Alan soothed, patting the back of Jobeth’s long loose hair. Jobeth pulled away from Alan’s strong embrace. “Did you get the wagon?” Jobeth asked. He nodded. Tears filled her eyes. The reality of leaving their beloved little home flooded her. Jonah was here. Her baby was here. “Why?” she wailed angrily. “Why did they have to kill Jonah? Why did they steal him away from us? Why did they have to ruin our home? Why?” She sobbed, unable to stop. “I loved him so much. I loved our home.” Jobeth fell to the floor crying into the palms of her hands. She was leaving so much behind. “Jobeth,” Alan pleaded. “Please, Jobeth . . .” He bent down and placed his large, strong hands around her tear-streaked face. Jobeth looked at him, sniffling. “We have to leave. I don’t want to leave Jonah either, but we have too.” He looked at the debris thrown aggressively across the floor and Jobeth could see his eyes water. “What they did to Jonah . . .” “Alan,” Jobeth felt ashamed by her outburst. “No,” Alan jumped up, glaring at Jobeth. She shivered. Alan had never before acted this way. “Jobeth don’t. You understand what they could do to us, to Shawna?” Shawna gasped, clinging onto Queenie’s neck. Jobeth stood up. Jonah’s last words, to be strong, rang in her ears. She patted her messy hair down, looking up to the loft with a forced smile. “Come on down, honey, and help me pack,” Jobeth said to the silent child whose eyes were big with worry. Goosebumps crawled over Jobeth’s skin. For a moment, the child looking down was that same haunted child Jobeth had escaped with so long ago. Slowly, Shawna crawled down the stairs and grabbed Jobeth’s hand tightly. Reassuringly, Jobeth squeezed it back. “Did you have trouble selling the animals?” Jobeth asked Alan. “No, we had good animals. They just want us out of their town. I sold them quickly.” He smiled shyly at Jobeth, wanting to kiss her. “Wait till you see the horses. They are beautiful.” “Well then,” Jobeth forced a grin, “let’s see them.” They ate in silence and then packed their belongings in the wagon. Jobeth made up a bed in the back, putting the fatigued Shawna down to sleep. It was getting late and they wanted to be on their way. They stopped at the grave one last time to say good-bye. Standing beside Alan, she stared at the stark crosses: the only reminders that the two buried beneath had existed in this world. She wished they were coming with them. She bent down and fingered the dried red flowers on her son’s grave. Her heart ached at leaving them behind, but Jonah had been right, as always. Alan and Shawna needed her and they were alive. She felt she would never get over losing Jonah or her son, but she would live and love. She had to; She had promised Jonah and it was the only way she could survive. “Are you ready?” Alan questioned, watching her caress the dried seed heads. Jobeth was almost sixteen and had already lived a life far beyond her years. She had lost her parents, her child and her best friend all in a little more than two years. The pain was there. It probably always would be. She looked at the man beside her and her sad heart lightened. She snapped one of the flowers into her hand. She would take a part of them with her. Somewhere, someday she would plant those seeds. She placed a mittened hand on his arm and smiled peacefully at him. “Now I am ready,” she said. Seated back in the wagon, Alan clicked his tongue and slapped the reins down onto the horses’ backs. The wagon began to move forward. Alan was worth going on for. He was only seventeen years old and worked harder than any man she knew. She turned and faced the road. The sky had turned gray and cool. She snuggled into her wrap and sighed, clutching the dried flower in her hand. They would make it. They had to make it.

Chapter 9- Poppies

2009-02-18T06:59:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 9 — Alan noticed the change in Jobeth immediately. She had been in bed when they returned home that evening. He assumed she was still not feeling well, but by the end of the following day, she still had not emerged from the room she shared with Shawna. He became concerned. “I better get a doctor up here,” Alan said at the dinner table. Jobeth had refused supper again for the third night in a row. The remaining three sat silently eating the meal Jonah had prepared. He placed his hands on the table, bracing himself to get up. His intent was on going to town to fetch the doctor. It didn’t matter if they had to leave when Jobeth and Jonah were discovered. She was sick and he could not let her go without medical attention. “Alan,” Jonah said softly, looking up from his plate of vegetable stew, “no doctor can help Jobeth. She gotta sickness of the heart that only she can heal.” “Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Alan stormed angrily, his face displaying a look of disgust. “Alan, don’t be asking me something I can’t tell yah,” Jonah said to the redfaced youth. “There’s gonna come a time when you gonna have to listen with your heart and not your ears.” This just made Alan angrier. He could not understand what Jonah was talking about. “And I know yah getting hot under the collar, but that is too bad. If you want to help Jobeth, you sit down and finish your supper. She will be up and at it tomorrow. We is gonna let her be for tonight,” Jonah said with finality. He lifted his spoon and shoved it into his mouth forcefully. He chewed his food without actually tasting it. Alan was too stunned for words. He sat down in his chair and stared resentfully at his half-eaten stew. “Now tell Jonah about your day at school. You learning to read?” Jonah said changing the subject. He listened intently while eating his dinner as Shawna chatted about daily activities and a girl at school who was mean to all the other children. Jonah listened intently as Alan, defeated, began to eat again. His eyes stayed transfixed on the bedroom door where Jobeth slumbered deep in mourning. The next day, after Alan and Shawna had left, Jonah walked hesitantly to the door of Jobeth’s retreat. Shawna had been sleeping in the loft with him and Alan since Jobeth began hibernating. He paused, dreading what he had to do. Knowing he could not put it off any longer, he walked into the dark, dank room. It smelled stale and slightly sour. Swiftly, he crossed the area between himself and the window and pushed open the curtains. Sunlight bathed the room, exposing the pale, dark-eyed form collapsed on the bed. Jobeth turned and buried her head into the pillow, protesting. Jonah placed his strong young hands on his hips and glared on her frail body as she withered under his angry eyes. “You can lay there and slowly die if you want, but you are needed around here. You got a bad loss that come to you, but life has many bellyaches to hand out to us all,” Jonah growled, hating himself. “We need you and we are the living. Little Jonah is gone. I am ashamed that he is looking down from heaven with the angels and seeing that his ma’s a quitter. She done let herself get so consumed with misery that she neglecting the living that loves and needs her.” He shook his head sadly. “There will be tears in heaven right now, ‘cause you done forgot about us and how we needs yah.” He turned to leave trying not to see Jobeth’s red-rimmed eyes. “There is lots of work to be done around here and I can’t do it alone. I need my best friend to help me.” And he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Lifting her head from her pillow, Jobeth gazed toward the window, her eyes squinting from the bright light. Tears she thought were all dried up fell anew. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and slowly sat up, every inch of her body feeling bone weary. She swiveled her head to the door of the bedroom and mustered all of her strength. “The least you can do is draw me a bath,” she roared with all her might. Jonah leaned behind the door and held his breath as his hands tightly clasped the door handle. He smiled, released his firm hold on the handle and went to get the washtub. “I suppose I could do that by myself,” he responded. Alan was surprised when Jobeth finally surfaced, weak as a kitten, but seemingly better after her ordeal. Jonah had been right; it was just a matter of time before she came around. He still did not understand what had happened to cause her to hide from view for nearly a week, but he trusted Jonah and obeyed his wishes. Jobeth had lost a lot of weight and the dark circles under her eyes worried him. She seemed very sad but at least she was not sick. As time passed, the circles that ringed her eyes began to fade just as the snow began to melt and spring started to bloom. Jobeth ached for her dead son, but her heart started to heal slowly with the love of the two boys and Shawna. She seldom spoke to Jonah about the baby, but felt a great bond with the young man who was decades older than his sixteen years. Then again, she too was much wiser than her own age of fifteen. The two frequently went to visit the tiny grave. They would sit silently, absorbed in the tranquil atmosphere. When the snow finally melted, just as Jobeth had envisioned, the grass grew tall, alive with small animals and birds. Tiny budded heads pressed out of the earth and soon the field was speckled with multicolored wildflowers. “It is nice here,” Jobeth said, smelling a small, red flower she had carefully uprooted. She planned to replant it onto the child’s grave. Jonah turned from placing the small cross he had constructed on the ground. He wiped his sweaty brow and breathed deeply of the spring smells bursting forth around him. “Good place,” he sighed looking around him. “Feels like God is right here.” Jobeth agreed. “Jonah?” “Yes?” He continued with the work at hand. He would have to dig a hole deep enough to support the wooden crucifix. Jobeth stared at his naked dark back rippling and glistening with sweat. He had removed his shirt when the heat became unbearable. She could not help admiring his beauty. Jonah was a very handsome man. “Thank you.” “For what?” Jonah asked, facing her again, shovel in hand. “For everything,” she pretended exasperation. She stood up and walked to him. “I love you, all right.” And she kissed him squarely on the lips. “Ah, heck,” Jonah said embarrassed, turning his back to her. “I love you, too.” He blushed under his dark skin. Jobeth fell backwards, giggling, until her stomach ached from laughing so hard. “What is so funny?” he said, pretending to be offended. “You,” she giggled, sat up and rubbed tears out of her eyes. She had not laughed so hard in ages. In fact, she could not remember ever laughing so hard. “What would I ever do without you, Jonah?” “You would be just fine,” Jonah smiled, trying to hide his own urge to laugh. It felt good to see Jobeth smile with color in her face. “Aren’t we an unlikely pair?” “You know it,” Jonah laughed out loud in his deep, rich voice. Hearing Jonah laugh started Jobeth up again and they both continued to snicker together. A week later the two were cooking supper when Alan ran into the house after finishing his work at the mill. The house was fully furnished, thanks to Jonah’s carpentry work, and looked like a very comfortable, modest home. Jonah and Jobeth had worked hard to create the type of home they wished to live in and they had succeeded. “Jobeth! Jonah!” Alan yelled from the doorway, “Come see what I brought home.” He was very excited and Jobeth could not help the smile that broke over her face. Her heart fluttered when she thought of him. Jonah noticed how Jobeth flushed over Alan and smiled. He saw the same look on Alan’s face every time he was near Jobeth. She wiped her hands on her apron and removed the cooking chicken from the fireplace. “Come on, Jobeth, move,” Jonah squealed, grabbing her hand and dragging her outside. Both stopped in their tracks as they reached the front veranda. Jobeth’s mouth dropped open and she covered it with her hands. There on the lawn was a cow. It was a small cow, spotted black and white and it stood lazily, chewing grass. Shawna stood beside it holding the leathery lead rope. “Wow!” Jonah yelped, jumping down from the porch. “A cow!” He went up to the beast and began to pet it. “Milk and butter and cream and . . .” Jobeth started to laugh, jumping down from her domain. “Alan, how wonderful!” Alan stood back proudly. This had been a dream of his. “We cannot have a home without a cow. Shawna, show her.” Jobeth faced the blonde child with anticipation as the waif laughed, pulling out small packages from behind her back. “Seeds!” Shawna squealed. Jobeth grabbed the small packages from her tiny hands and recited the writing on them. “Radishes, potatoes, carrots.” She squeezed the envelopes to her chest. “Vegetables! Vegetables! Finally, some vegetables!” “Are you happy?” Alan asked, suddenly standing beside her. A strong desire moved through him to sweep her lithe body up into his and touch her lips longingly with his own. His heart pounded and the scent of her freshly washed hair made him dizzy for her. “Very,” Jobeth whispered, very much aware of his strong male presence. She gazed into his eyes, her breath failing her. “Thank you.” She placed her hand on his warm cheek and without thinking leaned over and kissed him softly on his smooth lips Alan’s hand instantly encircled her wrist by his face and he breathed in her breath. It was sweet and fresh. Jobeth’s eyes were closed and a surge of heat tingled up from her toes to her head. She opened her eyes and stared into his piercing gaze. Embarrassed, she pulled away and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. Alan was confused, feeling he had offended her. One moment he had felt joy as he had never felt before and the next he felt as though he had committed some heinous crime. He looked directly into Jobeth’s eyes and breathed deeply of her essence. Not knowing what else to do, he squeezed her hand and went to Shawna and Jonah, who were too involved with the cow to have noticed them. “What we gonna name her?” Alan yelled running down to where Shawna and Jonah stood patting the cow. Jobeth stood still, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest, staring after Alan and wondering what she had done. “How about Edna?” Jonah roared, picking Shawna up and placing her on the cow’s back. “Edna?” Shawna and Alan questioned in chorus. “Yes.” Jonah puffed up his chest, faking hurt feelings. “I had an aunt named Edna once. Yup, Aunt Edna. If I remember right, she looked just like this here old cow.” Shawna and Alan began to laugh hastily at Jonah. Jobeth could not stop a giggle from escaping her lips as she gazed upon Alan’s strong young back. She felt confused. She had enjoyed kissing him and would have liked to kiss him more. How was that possible? When Father James had kissed her, she hated it. She cringed with disgust at his very touch. But Alan had been different-he was gentle and his lips were soft and caring. After Edna and the new seeds came into their lives, Jonah and Jobeth had more to occupy their busy days. Jobeth did not miss going into town. Jonah was more than enough company for her during the day, and in the evenings she had all three of them to absorb her time. She felt very loved and needed once again. Life seemed livable. Jonah and Jobeth quickly set themselves to work fixing a barn for Edna and starting a garden. Fortunately, her mother had taught Jobeth at an early age how to make dairy products. So Edna became a great luxury in their lives. “Jobeth, a girl has to know how to make edible foods with what she has,” her mama would say, looking down at the little girl. She no longer cried when she thought about her parents and the life they once shared together. She was only thankful that they had taught her well. The knowledge her parents had bestowed upon her before they died had proven to be very useful. Jobeth thought of them now with loving memories. They had served her well. Every time Jobeth milked Edna or was making butter or cheese, she would remember her mother and her calm voice telling her how to do this or that. It was just like when she had been on the run with Shawna. She remembered her Pappy’s strong voice telling her how to build a fire or make a snare. They left Jobeth prepared to survive alone and for that, Jobeth was forever grateful. Her parents were still protecting her and watching out for her. Alan kept surprising them with gifts. A month after Edna’s arrival, Alan came home with two live hens, a rooster, some flour and two pigs. But the best surprise of all was Queenie, a little puppy Alan and Shawna found half-starved and abandoned by a creek. They brought her home and nursed the light brown mutt back to health. Everything was going well. The four had everything they could hope for. They had a real home full of love and kindness, something most of them had never experienced before. And they had livestock to sustain them. They even had a watchdog. Fall rolled around quickly, changing the green leaves of summer to bright red and yellow. The warm air began once again to turn cool and crisp. A year had passed since the four left the other members of their little family. Early one morning Jobeth and Jonah started pulling out the remaining vegetables from their garden. They had harvested enough for winter and were storing the food in a cellar Jonah had built behind the house during the past summer. “Jonah, do you ever wonder what happened to the others?” Jobeth asked while brushing dirt from a carrot with her gloved hand. The garden had thrived under their care and she was very pleased. Gardening was becoming a passion of hers. Little seeds bursting forth with life never seemed to bore her. She could spend hours in her vegetable garden unaware of time passing. Next spring she planned to add a flowerbed. Jonah stopped what he was doing and looked at his dirty hands. He did not like to use gloves. He said he liked to get his hands right into the earth. It made him feel closer to nature. He truly believed that was why the vegetables grew so well. He was a firm believer in coddling the garden, treating it with loving care. He and Jobeth were so alike in many ways. “Yes. All the time,” he said, arching his back. He had been bent over digging and picking potatoes for a while and a stitch had begun to gnaw on his spine. “I just hope they have fared as well as we have,” Jonah replied, testing his new vocabulary. Jobeth and Shawna had been teaching him and Alan how to read and write; during this time their slang was disappearing, much to both Alan’s and Jonah’s pleasure. “I guess we will never know.” Jonah continued picking potatoes. He felt suddenly sad. The others rested heavily on his chest. He felt guilty for the fine life he was living. The likelihood that the others had done as well was unlikely. “You don’t mean that, do you? We will find them some day.” Jonah looked up into the sky. “It is not for us to know. God willing, they will be back in our graces. But there is no use letting dreams like that eat at your mind. Some things in life happen that we don’t much like, but life doesn’t have to be fair.” “That is something I do know,” Jobeth spoke softly. “That is something we all know,” Jonah replied, returning to the potatoes at hand. Jobeth sat by the roaring fire after dinner, lazily working on some mending. The nights were getting cooler and the mornings were filled with a world covered in frost. She felt content being inside the warm little house. Shawna was fast asleep in their bed and Alan and Jonah sat at the dinner table figuring out the accounts. Queenie, who had been sleeping by Jobeth’s feet, stood up and began to growl. She was not fully grown yet and was already taller than the largest pig they owned. Alan looked up from the table and Jobeth put her sewing down, glancing at the door. Someone knocked abruptly and insistently. Queenie began to growl louder and Jobeth placed her hand on the dog’s back. Her ears went down and she began to whine. The knock came again, louder. “Alan?” asked a deep voice behind the door. “It’s me, Simpson.” He knocked again, a little more forcefully. Alan, close to hysteria, stood up and pointed for Jonah and Jobeth to disappear. “The loft, go!” he whispered in a panic. Jobeth and Jonah obeyed by jumping up and climbing quickly to the loft. Messing his hair, Alan yelled out, “Coming.” He opened the door pretending to tuck his shirt in. “Come in,” Alan said, moving away from the door. His heart pounded and he fought the urge to look up at the loft. Two men followed behind the person named Simpson. “Kurt, Dean,” Alan said, nodding to the other men. The two in question looked younger than the man Simpson, but they all looked quite similar, with closely cropped brown hair and blue eyes. They all were a bit overfed and wore similar brown felt hats. “What is the meaning of such a surprise?” Alan laughed nervously patting the middle-aged Simpson’s back. “Alan,” Simpson replied, looking around the neatly kept room, his eyes resting briefly on the basket of half-finished mending. “Sorry to have to bother you like this. I hope we did not wake your little sister.” He continued to look around the room. Jobeth spied down quietly at the men, her heart beating against her rib cage uncontrollably. “The boys and I needed to have a talk with you,” Simpson said, looking back at Alan. The other two men examined the house with their eyes, searching for something. They turned on cue when Simpson spoke and sat down uninvited at the table. Alan took the money he and Jonah had been counting and placed it in a container on the shelf. He sat down with the other three men. Queenie, seeing that Alan sat calmly with the strangers, settled back at the fire and went to sleep. “Nice little home you got here, Alan,” one of the men said. He was running his finger across the fibers of the wooden table and admiring the handiwork. “How did you fix it up so good while working?” He looked up, smirking at Alan. “I manage,” Alan replied a little coolly. “Shawna helps a lot.” He started tapping his fingers on his knees under the table. Jobeth looked at Jonah crouched beside her under his bed. She placed her arm around his shaking shoulders. He tried to smile confidently at her, but failed. “Alan,” Simpson said seriously, “the reason why we’re here is because my little girl, Amy, she is in school with your sister, well she says when she walked by here the other day, she saw a nigger and a white girl running around.” Simpson stared at Alan hoping to see him falter. “Rumor around town is that you and your sister aren’t the only ones living up here.” Jonah and Jobeth clutched each other tightly in the loft. “Is there a nigger and a girl here?” Simpson asked point blank. Alan stood up angrily. “Does it look like I have anyone else around here?” He glared at the faces of the three men he worked with. He felt the heat rise on the back of his neck as anger and dread enveloped him. Everything was going so well. Jobeth even seemed to be happy. Nothing else had happened between them since the kiss, but she was always kind and sweet with him. He did not want things to change and the three before him only posed problems. He had to think quickly. “I only wish I had a girl up here.” Alan laughed, causing the other three men to laugh with him. Jobeth did not find it funny. She felt fear rising in her throat, and she squeezed Jonah for comfort. “Yah, don’t we all?” laughed one of the other men. “A real saloon gal. Yee- Hah!” he wallowed. “Well, my Amy don’t lie.” Simpson said. Jobeth and Jonah swallowed a lump forming in each of their throats. “But the doc thinks she might need specs,” Simpson said, standing up from his chair as the other men followed suit. “If there is something going on up here,” he said calmly to Alan, “I’d put a stop to it right away. We are God-fearing, good folks. We don’t want no messing around going on in our town.” He looked straight into Alan’s green eyes, telling him his true feelings. “Sorry to disturb you, Alan, but this is the way things are.” He paused, trying to lighten the mood. “Listen, there is a country dance at the Mackenzie’s on Saturday. Young Miss Jossie’s gonna be there. A young man like yourself aught to be thinking of settling down, especially with a little sister to think of. She needs a female around to teach her how to be a good wife and mother. Miss Jossie would be a mighty good catch and I know she has an eye for you.” Alan blushed deeply. Miss Jossie was Simpson’s niece and not at all his type. She was a mindless creature who constantly hung out at the lumberyard bringing him refreshments and baked goods. Alan was fully aware of her intentions and was not at all interested. “That seems fine,” Alan lied. “I will have to look into it.” “Good . . . Good,” Simpson said. “Jossie will be glad to hear it.” Jobeth felt sudden outrage. Who was Jossie? Did Alan like her? What if he did? Then she felt fear. What if Alan did want to settle down? What would happen then? How would she fit into the picture? It had never occurred to her that Alan might want to marry. But then why wouldn’t he want to get married and have his own life? She was a fool to think he would always be there to protect and care for her. One day he would want to move on. Maybe he already wanted to with this Jossie. “Well, boys, come on. Let’s get a move on before the women folks start to fret. Good-bye, Alan, and mind what I say. We like you and want to keep it that way.” Simpson said opening the door, looking serious. “Don’t worry,” Alan said too loudly as he watched them walk away. Jobeth could tell he was jittery and her heart went out to him. Alan was always concerned about how she and Jonah felt about being hidden away. They had never even thought how hard it might be for him to pretend they were not there. It must have been torture to lead two different lives. Jobeth had been so content that It had never occurred to her. “Come on down,” Alan said, after a bit of time had passed. Jobeth let out a long sigh and relaxed. “That was too close for comfort,” Jonah said, helping her down the ladder. “You’re telling me,” Alan replied, absently. His mind was a mile away. Something told Jobeth things were going to change once again.

Chapter 8 Poppies

2009-02-17T06:39:00.001-08:00

— Chapter 8 — Alan woke the next morning with a hop in his step and a whistle on his lips. He had done it--he could now give Jobeth the life she deserved! He washed his face in a warm pot of water Jobeth had heated for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her narrow back and grimaced. She was so very thin. But still, he thought, she was very well groomed with her hair piled up in the latest twist. “Here you go,” Jobeth smiled, handing Alan his lunch wrapped up in a burlap bag. They had been using it to carry their food in when they had been on the road. “It’s leftovers from last night.” “Thanks,” Alan said, drying his face with an old towel. Jobeth stood uncomfortably before him, trying not to meet his gaze. She cleared her throat and started busying herself by tidying up the main room. There was a smaller room off to the side where Shawna and Jonah slept on the floor in blankets. Above was a loft the length of the house. “Are you nervous?” Jobeth asked while dusting the only chair in the room with a rag. She couldn’t look at Alan’s round, flat face. “Not really. I’m used to carpentry work,” Alan returned. This was the first time he had ever been totally alone with Jobeth and he felt at a loss for words. Each time he opened his mouth his tongue felt thick and heavy. “Well,” Jobeth said, having no choice but to look at him. He stood awkwardly with his lunch clasped in his hands. “You don’t want to be late for your first day.” “No,” Alan said, wide-eyed. He grabbed his hat off the chair where he had left it the night before and started for the door. “Jobeth?” He paused, keeping his back to the girl behind him. “Yes?” she asked with her hands clasped together. Her heart began to pound anxiously. Had Alan noticed her condition now that she was not layered down with clothes? “Uh,” the boy faltered not knowing how to tell Jobeth what he needed to say. He pressed his lips tightly together. It had to be done. It was the best for everyone. The blood drained from Jobeth’s face. Alan had to know. She would be out in the cold once again. Maybe he would let her stay the winter, please God. “No one knows you and Jonah are here. I didn’t think they should know.” Alan said looking embarrassed. This was the fly in the ointment. The one thing he could not give Jobeth still. “Why not?” Jobeth asked, surprised and a little relieved. “What about Shawna?” Alan stood in the doorway feeling like a failure once again. Just when he thought he might succeed in her eyes, another obstacle was put in his way. “These people . . . listen, we have been on the road for two months. Finally we can live in a real house that ain’t about to fall in on us, and it’s ours. Not some shack we steal into in the night and sneak out of during the day. I am paying for it monthly at the bank in town. I set it up with this Mr. Myers, he is some big shot at the bank. He said this place was for sale. With my job we could get a horse, maybe even a buggy. Shawna can go to school and be educated like them other proper girls. We can have real food--not these meager bits of scrap we been living on. But if you and Jonah are found out . . .” he stuttered, feeling ashamed. Could he ask so much of Jonah and Jobeth? “Why?” Jobeth protested, her hands gripping the back of the chair. She wanted to lead a normal life again. The baby kicked her hard, a reminder of her present situation and she blushed, shutting her mouth tightly. She had no right to a normal life any longer, let alone to be seen in public. “Because,” Alan said, annoyed by Jobeth’s red face. He just could not stop disappointing her. He breathed hard, running his hand up the side of the rough wooden wall and gazed down at the floor. “They don’t like blacks in this town, Jobeth. Blacks are considered the lowest humans around here.” Remembering the events of the day before, he continued, “I was in town at the lumber yard where I got my job. I was talking to the owner of the shop when this black man walked by. The owner called him ‘boy’ and asked him what he was doing walking by his shop. The black man had fear in his eyes. The type of fear that has seen too much trouble and knows what could happen if he just walks in the wrong place.” His eyes darted from the sight of Jobeth’s gaping mouth. “I told them I had a small sister, Shawna, who would be attending the school. Tonight after work I am gonna sign her up and later I am going to the store and get some credit so she can have dresses. I won’t have the other kids laughing at her because she is dressed in rags. She ain’t going to be ashamed of where she comes from.” Jobeth nodded and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “We won’t be noticed.” “Good.” Alan turned back to the door again, “You’re a good kid, Jobeth.” And he left, leaving Jobeth standing in the doorway watching after him. She placed a hand on her budding tummy, feeling the occupant inside twisting and turning, and wondered what she was going to do. Life settled down as the winter hit full force. Shawna started school dressed like an angel in her new clothes that Jobeth and Jonah made. Alan had even splurged on a store-bought dress for Shawna. Jobeth was disappointed with his extravagance and said so one morning. “Why waste money on store-bought dresses when I can make the exact same dress for half the price?” Jobeth scowled at the humbled Alan. “Besides, the other children will think she is too high-class for them.” She stomped off to the room she shared with Shawna and threw herself onto the straw bed Jonah had built for them. Alan, confused at Jobeth’s outburst, turned red and clumsily left the house. He walked a few feet from the house and began kicking stones around. He bought the dress to make up to Jobeth for forcing her to stay hidden from the rest of the world. He felt terrible that she could not lead a normal life, a life he felt she deserved. Again he had failed. Alan looked toward town and contemplated leaving early for work. He did not want to see Jobeth’s disappointed face. Shrugging his shoulders, defeated, he began walking down the worn path. A hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face Jobeth’s crestfallen image. “I will return the dress. I wasn’t thinking right in the head.” Alan fumbled, his hands jammed into his pockets. “No, Alan.” Jobeth shook her head. He looked at her, wide-eyed, fearing he had done yet another thing wrong. “I am the one who should be apologizing. I acted horribly and for no reason. Please forgive me. The dress was a beautiful idea and Shawna loves it. She will be the envy of her schoolmates.” Alan became red in the face, completely confused. As long as he lived, he would never understand women. “I...I know things ain’t been fair for you and Jonah, with being hidden up here,” Alan said. Jobeth lifted a pale hand in protest. “Alan, please. You have been trying so hard to give us a proper life. Jonah and I don’t mind just staying around here. At least we have each other for company, and there is plenty of work around here to keep us busy.” Jobeth winced, clamping her hand down upon her stomach. The familiar cramping across her middle ripped through her. She wondered if it was normal and wished she could talk to someone about the changes occurring in her body. Alan couldn’t help but notice Jobeth’s pained expression. He went to her and placed an arm protectively around her shoulders. Her face became very pale and her hand gripped her small swollen belly, harder. “You’re not well,” Alan said. Jobeth scanned Alan, liking the way his strong jaw was set firmly with concern. “Something I ate,” she cringed, pain rippling through her. It was stronger and harder. She needed to lie down and said so, panting. “Of course, of course,” Alan supported her back with his hand as they walked into the warm house. Jonah and Shawna were sitting at the newly built table and chairs. Jonah, it turned out, was an excellent carpenter. His handiwork was showing up everywhere in the dwelling, making the small home very cozy. He and Shawna both directed their attention to the door when Alan came bursting through it practically carrying Jobeth. Jonah bounced up, knowing full well what was wrong with her. She must be further along then I first thought, Jonah thought to himself. He bolted to Alan, grabbing the other side of Jobeth. She grasped his hand painfully, her hazel eyes saturated with panic. “Get Alan and Shawna off. I don’t want them to be late,” she whispered to Jonah. He nodded in complete understanding. Jobeth did not want Alan and Shawna to witness the birth of her child. “Must have been that cabbage we ate, Jobeth. I gots the same bellyache.” Alan looked at Jonah, questioningly. He did not look sick. “Me and Jobeth done ate a cabbage we weren’t sure of was good or bad. Guess it weren’t.” Jonah put his hand on his own belly and groaned. Alan looked suspicious at the two crumpled forms beside him. “Yup, what we need to do is lay down till it passes. Gonna end up in the outhouse all day. No work gonna be done today. No, not today. You and Shawna be no help to us sick ones. Better get yourselves off to your business. Nothing can be done for us with you here,” Jonah shook his head scooting the bewildered Alan and Shawna out the door. “Jobeth, I told you, you shouldn’t have eaten so much of that old cabbage,” Jonah eyed Alan. “See, Jobeth ate most of it. I guess that’s why it is getting back at her worse than me.” Hunched over in agony, Jobeth couldn’t understand why Jonah was lying for her, but she was grateful. The pain began to subside. “Alan, please get to work. You and Shawna are already late. I will be fine. I already feel a little better. I just need to lie down for a bit.” She straightened her rail thin frame and walked, alone, to the bedroom. “If you think so…” Alan hesitated. Jobeth suddenly seemed better. Again, he shrugged, not knowing what to do. He couldn’t miss any work. If he did, he would lose a day’s wages, wages that were needed. He could see Jonah helping Jobeth to her room. The two boys now slept in the upstairs loft together. “Come on, Shawna,” Alan said to the mystified child. She obediently grabbed hold of his hand. ”Is Jobeth gonna be all right?” Shawna asked in her tiny voice. ”Yes. She just ate something that didn’t agree with her. Jonah will take good care of her.” Alan stood in the doorway ready to leave, where Jobeth lay. ”I’m leaving!” He yelled. From the bedroom he could hear Jonah saying goodbye and a strained farewell from Jobeth. Suddenly he felt he should stay. There seemed more to the situation than met the eye. Alan’s free hand raked through his brown hair: a habit he had when he was nervous and confused. Jonah did not really seem sick and Jobeth would be in good hands. There was no reason for him to stay behind. It was just a feeling in his gut. But then again, Jobeth had seemed in a hurry for them to leave. Not knowing what to do, he turned away from the warm room with Shawna in tow and closed the door gently behind him. Jobeth did not seem to want him around anyway. She seemed quite happy to have Jonah with her. Jonah sat anxiously beside Jobeth. She writhed on the bed in pain, clutching her extended abdomen. There was a silent click from outside as Alan shut the door. The coast was clear and Jonah looked into Jobeth’s twisted pale face. “It looks like your baby is gonna come, Jobeth,” Jonah said tenderly, smoothing the hair from her sweaty brow. Jobeth’s eyes darted, surprised. “Does Alan know?” Fear mingled with her pain as she clutched her belly. “Naw, he don’t know, but he gonna have to know soon,” Jonah said, rubbing her arm. Jobeth moaned, menstrual-like cramps boring through her again. “It’s gonna be all right, Jobeth. I am figuring the reason yah don’t tell us about the baby is because you married a bad man. Makes sense you take yourself away from those bad types,” Jonah soothed patiently, trying to reassure her. Jobeth started to cry. How could she tell Jonah she was not married? “Now don’t cry. It’ll be all right,” Jonah comforted, glancing at Jobeth’s hard belly. “You sure is small for your time to come.” “That’s because I’m not at my time. I’m only a little over six months along.” Jobeth wheezed through clenched teeth. Her body felt possessed as though it wanted to turn inside out. Hard as she tried to stop it, her body was doing its own thing. It was awful. The worst pain she had ever experienced. When another contraction seized her, she let out a loud wail. Jonah began to worry. Six months was too early for the child to come. How would it survive? He frowned on the whimpering Jobeth, who howled while holding tightly to her belly. “I’m gonna get some blankets to wrap the babe in and some water to wash him.” Jonah stood from the bed, his head hanging sadly. Jobeth’s baby could not possibly survive. “Jonah, don’t leave me,” Jobeth sobbed reaching out and grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. “I know it’s too soon. Please stay.” Jonah closed his eyes and squeezed his full lips together. He nodded and held Jobeth’s hand tight. “Aaaah!” Jobeth gasped, her contractions becoming one constant pain. “Talk to me Jonah. Please!” she panted. Sweat started to run down her face and she held her breath and strained as the urge to push consumed her body. “Maybe you should bear down if you have the urge,” Jonah said, wiping Jobeth’s face with a corner of the quilt she lay on. There was a basin of water beside the bed for Jobeth and Shawna to clean up in the morning. With all the commotion, Jobeth had not had time to change the water. Jonah looked around for a cloth and grabbed a damp towel resting on the floor. He quickly dunked it into the water basin and placed the wet towel on Jobeth’s streaming forehead. “Thank you,” Jobeth breathed and let out a blood-curdling cry. Jonah reached behind her back and helped Jobeth situate herself, her chest pressing forcefully on her bent thighs. Jobeth pushed, her veins pumping furiously from her forehead. A warm gush of fluid poured from between her legs, soaking her and the bed. “Did I wet myself?” she asked, embarrassed. Jonah, who was now supporting her back from behind whispered into Jobeth’s ear. “No, Jobeth, your water broke. The baby is coming.” He sighed. It was too late to go back now. The child would have to be born. Jobeth screamed in agony for two hours as Jonah slowly coaxed her into allowing him to see if the baby was starting to come out. At first she had refused, mortified. But with each contraction the pressure became too much and soon she relented, just wanting it to finally be over. “I see the head,” Jonah cried excitedly, looking up from between Jobeth’s trembling legs and into her fevered face. A tiny head, the size of an apple, all covered in black curly hair, slithered out. Jonah turned the child’s face upward and inserted his pinky finger into its small mouth, clearing the mucous. “One more push, Jobeth. Just one more,” He said holding firmly to the miniature head. Jobeth tightened her grip on her legs and closed her eyes, trying to gather all of her strength. She was exhausted and could not take much more. “You can do it, Jobeth. Please, one more push,” Jonah cried out, noticing how fatigued she was. Jobeth braced herself and, straining with all her might, pushed. Jonah held the incredibly small baby as it slipped out. Infinitesimally small hands and feet flailed weakly. Never had Jonah seen anything so small. Jobeth collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, breathing heavily. It was over. Jonah cut the cord and wrapped the baby in a blanket, wiping the fluids from the birth off him. The baby was a boy and he was alive. “What is it?” Jobeth asked without emotion. A frail meowing noise came from the blanket Jonah held. Almost like a cry of protest over his mother’s rejection. Something pulled at Jobeth’s heart. The child was her baby. It was not his fault how he had been created. “He’s a boy,” Jonah said sadly, noticing the tiny infant struggling for air. His small scrawny chest heaved uncontrollably up and down. “Let me hold my son,” Jobeth said gravely, a tear sliding down her face. Jonah placed the baby into her arms. She quickly uncovered him and undid the buttons of her blouse. Tiny dark eyes looked up at Jobeth lovingly. Her heart melted as she loosened a breast from her stays. She placed a nipple, darkened from pregnancy, into his small gaping mouth. Her breast was nearly the size of the child. The infant tried to suckle but did not have the strength. Jobeth hummed a lullaby and rocked her wee son as he tried to feed from his mother. Jonah, holding himself, looked on with tears in his eyes. The baby’s chest was jumping in spasms. “I am naming him Jonah after you,” Jobeth sobbed, touching the soft curly down on the baby’s head. She was not blind. She could see the irregular movement of the baby’s chest. His lungs just were not developed enough. The child was literally gasping for air. “Oh, that is too kind,” Jonah choked out, unable to contain his emotions as he watched mother and child. The baby, although small, was the most beautiful infant Jonah had ever seen. “You are my best friend, Jonah. It would be an honor to me and my son if you accepted.” Jobeth smiled through her tears. She reached out her hand to him. Jonah received it and bent beside her and the small newborn. He reached out his dark finger and placed it on the infant’s small transparent cheek. His finger took up most of the child’s face. The baby looked at Jonah, as though he recognized his namesake and his little chest stopped rising painfully. Jonah felt his tiny life leave. Jobeth let out a wail, the sound of a wounded animal, as she felt the baby’s lips fall from her breast lifelessly. She clutched the dead child close to her chest wanting to squeeze him back into her body where he was alive and well. “I want my child,” she cried out in pure agony. Jonah, overcome with emotion encircled his arms around Jobeth and the baby, scooping the two into the safety of his embrace. He rocked her back and forth in his arms as she cried, brokenhearted, for her son. They buried the infant Jonah, in a tiny coffin that the senior Jonah built in haste. He had prepared the wood earlier, planning to surprise Jobeth with a cradle. Tears fell freely as he nailed the lid of the small coffin over the wrapped body of the baby. Jobeth had enshrouded the child tenderly and lovingly in a soft blue and pink quilt that she had made just recently for Shawna. Tears fell silently as she kissed her son’s curly head and handed the child to Jonah to place in the miniscule coffin. Weak as Jobeth was from the terrible ordeal of childbirth, she walked stiffly beside Jonah, out into the backfield. She wore a shawl wrapped around her for warmth and it hung limply, dragging on the icy ground. Jonah stopped at a clearing and looked at Jobeth questioningly. She gazed around slowly, feeling a clean breeze brush her wet cheeks. “This is a good place,” Jobeth said with little emotion. Wild flowers would sway gently in the breeze and the flutter of small wings would bustle out from hiding spots in the tall grass when spring came. She could imagine how it would be alive with nature. The place would be lovely. But for now, because it was winter, the tall grass pictured in her mind was standing yellow poking out of its white winter blanket, waiting for spring and the warmth of summer to be reborn. Jonah placed a quilt on the tightly packed snow. Gently he placed the coffin down and retrieved his shovel. It would be hard work breaking the frozen ground, but Jobeth had insisted that the baby be buried that day. She sat the coffin down beside her and lovingly placed her hand on the smooth surface, rubbing the grain of the wood. Jonah worked with a fever all afternoon, digging the grave for his namesake. Tears refused to stop falling and he could not look at the figure of Jobeth draped protectively over the wooden box. His heart ached to comfort her, but she didn’t want comfort, she wanted the baby buried. So he continued to dig into the frozen ground, blinded by his own tears. When the grave had been dug deep enough, Jonah gently removed Jobeth’s exhausted form that was clenched tightly to the little crate. Jobeth then watched with vacant eyes and a heart as cold as ice, as he placed the coffin into the hole. She struggled to stand up, her strength completely wasted. Jonah went to her and helped her stand, his large hand supporting Jobeth under her arm. She was weak as a newborn fawn and as light as the snow that fell to the ground. Together they walked to the foot of the grave, looking across the white field. Jonah cleared his throat and tried to think of a proper farewell for little Jonah. “Go with the angels, little Jonah. You won’t feel pain ever again. God has got you now. No one is ever gonna hurt yah, little one. You will always be in our hearts and one day we will meet again.” Jonah spoke directly to the sky, as though he truly believed he was speaking to the babe in heaven. Jobeth gazed up into Jonah’s dark wet eyes, her own eyes dry and distant. “I do not want anyone to know about little Jonah.” The words came out icy, in a voice Jonah did not recognize. Not believing his ears, he stared at Jobeth in shock. “Why not?” “I was not married, Jonah. My foster father made me . . . forced me to be with him.” Jobeth stammered on her words. She had never said them out loud before. “I have committed a great sin and God has punished me by taking my son. I didn’t deserve to have little Jonah and I do not deserve to grieve for him aloud. He was conceived in violence and I hated him and his father. I had wished my child never to be born and now I will have to live my life as though he never was.” She turned stiffly from Jonah’s stunned face and headed back toward the house, leaving him to stare after her, baffled. “Oh, girl, you done nothing wrong,” Jonah said out loud to himself. “But you got a lot of wrong done to you. God help yah with the blame you got nestled up inside. It’s gonna eat you alive . . . God help yah.” He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hanky. It had been quite a day. A day he was not likely to forget anytime soon. He scratched his head and began slowly to fill the smallest grave he had ever beheld. He winced, repulsed at the sound of the cold earth thudding sickly onto the coffin.

chapter 7- Poppies

2009-02-16T07:42:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 7 — “We better find shelter,” Alan said to Jobeth, who stood beside him. She was exhausted and chilled to the bone. A month of traveling had taken a toll on her already frail body. All that day she had been experiencing sharp pains in her small, rounded belly. Instinctively she rested the palm of her hand on her growing mound, feeling the quickening movements of the child growing inside her. Alan watched Jobeth closely. He noticed that Jobeth seemed to be getting thicker around her middle, but could not understand why. Their diet was meager. They had all lost weight while traveling on the road. Jobeth’s face and arms were rail thin and she had a gaunt look to her, like an animal with parasites. He was concerned for the frail girl. She seemed to always be in a great deal of discomfort. He wondered if she had gotten worms from one of their too-hurriedly cooked meals. He had seen sick kittens with gaunt frames, little bellies distended from parasitic infections, and Jobeth’s appearance reminded him of them. He worried and wished he knew what to do. “Are you all right, Jobeth?” “What?” She asked. She had forgotten that Alan was beside her. “Oh, I’m fine,” she lied, feeling another sharp pain. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tightly. The days were getting increasingly colder and she could smell snow on the wind. “Are you sure?” Alan whispered, placing his hand on the middle of Jobeth’s back. Jobeth smiled up at Alan’s worried face. “Yes, Alan. Let’s find some shelter. I smell snow coming.” Alan turned toward the town up ahead and started to walk with her. Jonah and Shawna followed closely behind. He took a deep breath of crisp air and exhaled. Jobeth was right. There was a distinct smell of snow in the air. It wasn’t until evening when they found a small shack on the outskirts of town. It was old and rotted and by the next year it would probably only be a termiteinfested wood heap, but to the four weary wanderers, it was home for the night. Jonah opened the door. They could hear the scurry of tiny animals running across the floorboards. He shook his head. “Lots of cleanin’ needs to be done here.” Swiping cobwebs away from her face, Jobeth said, “That is an understatement.” She followed Jonah into the one-room shack. Alan popped his head in after Jobeth was safely inside. Shawna lay fast asleep in his arms. Anger filled him. He had failed once again. “The girls can’t sleep here,” Alan said, voicing his thoughts. He would not budge inside the door. Jobeth and Jonah turned to face him in disbelief. They were cold, hungry and exhausted. Jonah began to stutter, unable to believe what Alan said. “But Alan, we can’t find nothin’ else.” The weather outside was getting colder and a light flurry had begun. They needed to start a fire and get the chill out of their bones. He looked over at Jobeth whose hand was on her tiny ball of a stomach. His brow wrinkled with concern. Jonah knew what Alan did not. He knew Jobeth was pregnant and was in serious pain. After Jonah’s father died, he had stayed with a neighboring black family for a while, helping the husband on the farm. When his wife was only half way through her pregnancy, she had already experienced problems. The midwife told her she could not do her chores on the farm until the baby was born. Jonah had been looking for work in the town when he came across Mr. Jackson. They worked out an arrangement. Jonah would help work the farm for food and shelter until Mrs. Jackson had the baby and was again strong enough to work. It had been good at the Jackson farm and Jonah liked the family very much. He watched Mrs. Jackson with a belly just like Jobeth’s grow into a larger one, until the day came when she had her son. He knew the symptoms Jobeth was having. They were the symptoms Mrs. Jackson had experienced. He also knew that her pains were not good and she needed to rest. He had left the Jackson’s shortly after the baby was born. They were sorry that he could not stay but they were poor and could not afford an extra mouth to feed. Jonah understood and was grateful for their kindness. He was again alone, left to fend for himself. Alan glanced at Jonah’s pleading look and could not help noticing how the bigger boy looked anxiously at Jobeth. “Alan, I have slept in worse places than this,” Jobeth sighed, rubbing the ache in her belly. She was feeling a little resentful toward Alan. Did he think she was a piece of glass so easily broken? If he only knew the predicament she was in, he would not be so worried where she slept. Jobeth was not kidding herself any longer. She was going to have a baby and she could not hide it much longer. “Besides, it has started to snow. Where do you think we should sleep in such weather?” she asked a little crossly. She plunked herself down onto the filthy floor. Fluffy cobweb like balls few up into the air and then fell gently back down, landing on Jobeth’s skirts. Alan could not answer. He did not know where they should sleep. Reluctantly, he walked into the shack, sensing Jobeth’s hostility. “We will just put our blankets on the floor and use our sweaters to keep warm,” Jobeth said, very much needing to lie down. The child growing inside her did a somersault, causing her to let out a gasp. It was the first solid movement she had felt, instead of the fluttery feelings she had recently experienced. Alan’s eyes darted to Jobeth. His face turned red with embarrassment. She was angry at his stupidity. She would never think of him as a good provider, a man worthy of her and her sister, Downcast, he handed over the sleeping Shawna to Jonah and began preparing the bedding for the night. Jobeth watched Alan’s forlorn look and wondered if he could tell that she had just felt her child move inside her. Blushing deeply, she busied herself, helping Alan make their beds. She did not notice Jonah’s eyes following her every move nor how his brow creased with fear for her and her baby. I wonder where the Pa is? Jonah thought as he sat down cradling Shawna in his large arms. He didn’t remember Jobeth mentioning being married. Then again, he knew you did not have to be married to have a baby. The thought of Jobeth having a baby out of wedlock did not seem likely to Jonah. She was too well bred and moralistic. Maybe the reason she ran off was because she married the wrong man? Maybe he was mean and beat her? Jonah had heard of women doing that when their husbands were nasty. He knew her parents had been killed, but that was it. She didn’t like to talk about life before she met Alan and him. If she were married to a cruel man, she would have taken Shawna and herself away to safety. Jonah could understand. Jobeth probably didn’t know she was with child then, but she must know by now. He could not understand why she was keeping her condition a secret. He shrugged his shoulders and placed Shawna down on the blankets. Whatever Jobeth’s reasons were for not telling them about the baby, she would not be able to keep the secret much longer. With that, Jonah lay down beside Shawna and went to sleep. Alan awoke early the next morning. Jobeth and Jonah were already up and starting the daily routine of getting breakfast ready with whatever meager remains they had left from the day before. He jumped out of his blankets quickly. “Going to check out the town. See if we can stick around a bit or if we need to keep going.” Alan ran a hand through his brown hair and swiftly opened the door to leave. Outside, the world was gray with a light blanket of snow covering everything the eye could see. Alan shivered in his flimsy sweater. His breath streamed out in front of him. He hoped that he could find a job and make some kind of living. If he did find a job, he could build Jobeth a pretty house, like the ones he had seen other people living in. He never had desires before to change the way he existed. He always liked the adventure of moving from one town to the other. But, since meeting Jobeth, things had changed. He wanted her to have a real home that was always warm and cozy, and nice clothes she would never be ashamed of. He wanted Jobeth never to worry where they would sleep next. Shawna was a bright girl; a girl Alan wanted to see in school, laughing with classmates. If they kept up like this, before long, Shawna would end up a street-rat and miss out on being a normal child. He didn’t want that for Shawna—for her to be hard from living too long on the streets. He wanted her sweet and kind as she was now. He smiled, picturing Jobeth cooking him dinner in their home. She would smile lovingly when he and Shawna returned from work and school, both starving. Jonah would greet him at the door telling Alan about their vegetable garden and how their cow had just calved. Jonah loved working around the house doing farm work. He would run the farm, while Alan worked in town. They would have everything they needed. At night they would all sit down together around their own dinner table and eat the feast Jobeth made. The kitchen would be warm and smell of home cooking. It was a beautiful dream. A dream he felt he had to make happen. Alan pulled his sweater tighter around himself, trying to prevent the cold from cutting through him. He began to brood as he walked closer to town. What if this was the same as the last town? Alan opened the door of the variety store and instantly felt the heat penetrate his cold bones. Behind the counter a bored, middle-aged woman looked up from a small list in front of her. “Can I help you?” The store was packed with jam preserves and fresh vegetables and fruit. Farming material lined almost every wall. “Yah… er…I mean, yes,” Alan said, removing his cap clumsily. He cleared his throat and walked toward the leery lady. Her fingers began rapping on the wooden counter, causing Alan to become nervous. “You ain’t from these parts.” She gave Alan the once-over. He was not an ugly boy, but he had a peculiar look. She was a stern Christian who distrusted anything peculiar. His clothes looked poor and unkempt as if he had been sleeping in them, but that was not uncommon in these parts. Hygiene was not top of the list in importance. She placed her hands on her plump hips and glared into Alan’s green feline eyes. Trying not to show his nervousness, Alan remembered how Jobeth would answer this crotchety old lady. He did not want to sound ignorant. “No, Ma’am, I am not.” “Well. What can I do yah for?” she asked, folding her arms across her large breasts. Alan stared at the brooch the woman wore under her high collar. It was a pale pink oval with a silhouette of a lady in the center. It was pretty and the type of broach that Jobeth should be wearing. He straightened his shoulders, summoning his courage. “I was wondering if there are any jobs around here.” “Nope,” the woman puckered, “besides we don’t hire strangers around here.” “Oh,” Alan blushed once again defeated, “then I will be picking up some supplies.” “Very well. What do yah need?” the woman asked quickly, coming around the counter. “And we don’t give credit to strangers neither.” “No, Ma’am. I have money,” Alan said sadly, sure he had some money but it was quickly running out. He paid for his groceries, throwing a couple of sticks of candy in for the others and collected his bags. Standing back out in the cold holding his bag of groceries limply in his arms, Alan felt condemned. He stood glancing around at the small, growing town. Everywhere he looked a building was in construction. Hastily he began to walk toward the sheriff’s building in hopes that maybe he could give him some guidance about a job. People passed by him and he nodded politely as they looked at him oddly. One day, he thought, one day, I will be a respected man in town, one Jobeth would be proud to be seen with. “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Benson, fine day is it not? Hope today is seeing you well,” they would say in passing. Alan would nod and Jobeth would smile demurely. He felt himself warming at the thought of Jobeth being his wife. Just then, he noticed that he had reached the wooden door of the sheriff’s building. There were brown sheets of papers pasted to the unfinished wall. Glancing at them, Alan’s mouth dropped opened. The brown papers were “Wanted” posters. On one there was a face sketched of his likeness. There was one of Jonah, Adam, Carter, Todd, Oliver and Tamara. There was even a sketch of Shawna. The only face not sketched was Jobeth’s. Alan figured this was because she had never ventured into the town they had left. He swiftly turned on his heels and started back to the small shack. Winter or no winter, they would have to leave. It was not safe in this town. Jobeth stood beside the makeshift fire Jonah had built in the corner of the shack. She was making a stew from the remains of a squirrel Jonah had caught the day before. She cut up carrots and potatoes, the last of their supplies, and plopped them into the simmering brew. Jonah and Shawna were playing a silly game about naming objects of certain colors. They sat on the grimy wooden floor laughing and playing as Jobeth stirred their supper, enjoying the sounds of their voices tinkling in the air. Alan stood outside holding onto the door handle, wondering how he was going to break the news to the group inside. He took a deep breath and barged inside-regardless of how they felt, they couldn’t stay. All three inside stopped what they were doing to look anxiously at Alan’s distraught face. Jonah stood up and took the bag of food Alan clutched in his arms. “What’s wrong? Yah, I mean, you, look like you have seen a ghost,” Jonah corrected himself. They were all trying to speak better with the help of Jobeth. “They have posters of us,” he said, uncontrollably running his hands through his straight brown hair. Jobeth felt a queer feeling pass through her as she watched the gestures Alan made. Heat began to rise in her face, making her look flushed. Alan noticed and was mortified. “I am sorry Jo-Beth. I sometimes forget I am in the presence of a lady,” He was flustered and ashamed. The feeling of helplessness enveloped him. Why couldn’t he just get it right for once? “Not that I could forget you are a lady,” he stammered. “It’s just that they even have a drawing of Shawna.” Jobeth’s head bobbed up and her mouth dropped open. Her neck would suffer from having wrenched it so quickly. Shawna skirted over to Jobeth and gave her a frightened look. Bending down to her level, Jobeth put a reassuring arm around her small shoulders. Feeling safe in Jobeth’s embrace, Shawna’s shivering subsided a little. “But she is only a baby,” Jobeth stormed, suddenly very angry. She held Shawna’s cornflower head close to her chest. “Well, it seems she was spotted in the store with one of us. The rest I’m sure you can figure out,” Alan said, previous conversation forgotten. “No,” a soft, spooked voice said out of nowhere. Jobeth turned to Jonah. He was staring vacant eyed, down at the dirty floor, his full lips quivering and mouthing the word no. “No,” he repeated, louder, in a strange voice far away. “Jonah,” Alan said calmly going over to stand beside the gentle giant. “We are going to be all right.” “No, we ain’t,” Jonah argued, his gaze fixed to the floor. “They are after us and they gonna hang me till my eyes bulge out of my head, that’s what ol’ man Wilson said and he weren’t foolin’.” Jobeth, unable to help herself, pulled away from Shawna’s embrace and went to Jonah. “Jonah,” she begged. But he wouldn’t listen. He began to bounce around mumbling about hangings. She tried to grip his shoulders, but he slipped through her hands. Alan and Shawna stood back from the scene wide-eyed, mouths agape. “Then all the white folks watching are gonna laugh and sing, ‘nigra’s dead, hung dead!’” Jonah was becoming hysterical. Jobeth did not know what to do. Before she realized it, she had reached out the palm of her hand and slapped Jonah’s wet face with all her might. Startled, she swiftly withdrew her hand as quickly as she had struck and covered her mouth. Jonah stopped bouncing on his huge feet. Large tears slid down his reddened cheek. “I am so sorry, Jonah,” Jobeth sobbed, disgusted with herself. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Helpless, Alan stared in disbelief, protectively shielding a weeping Shawna. Jobeth watched as Jonah placed a shaking hand on her shoulder. She looked into his distorted face, his lips still trembling. Tears fell freely down Jobeth’s face as she reached out to touch Jonah’s swollen cheek. His dark hand cupped her pale one. Slowly, Jobeth’s hand encircled his neck as she pulled his woolly head to her. Willingly he went to her, wrapping his arms around her thickening waist like a child. “It’s going to be all right, Jonah,” Jobeth cried, cradling his curly head in her arms. “We won’t let anyone harm you.” Jonah felt Jobeth’s baby kick him through her garments. “How?” he asked, pulling away from her comforting grip. He grabbed her hands in his. His eyes grew large with frustration. “How can you do that? You ain’t black. Yah don’t know how it feels. Yah don’t know and yah never will know how it feels to have folks hate yah because your skin is a darker color than theirs.” She knew he was right and wished she could give him the answers he wanted. Feeling helpless and weak, Jonah released Jobeth’s hands and let them fall to her side. He turned his back to walk away as Jobeth looked beseechingly after him. He slowly rotated around to her. “Yah know, Jobeth, I hate being black.” “Don’t ever say that!” Jobeth and Jonah both leapt into the air, startled. Alan, who had been silent through the whole episode, now stood solidly in front of them. His face was filled with a rage neither of them had ever seen. “Don’t ever say that again, do you hear me, Jonah?” Alan waved his finger in the larger boy’s face, surprising both Jonah and Jobeth. “Don’t you know anything?” Alan said, trying to calm himself. He had not meant to fly off the handle as he had. “They are all just threatened by you. They don’t understand the difference between you and them and it scares them. It makes them question themselves. It makes you different,” Alan said, full of emotion. He put his arm around Jonah’s massive shoulder, having to step on tiptoe to do so. “And those no-good, no-accounts know it and prey on it. Don’t ever be ashamed of who you are. Be proud of yourself, because you ain’t ever going to be anyone else.” Jonah looked at Alan and rubbed his swollen bronze eyes with the back of his hand. Jobeth watched passively as Jonah threw himself into Alan’s arms and hugged him tightly. Shawna tiptoed over to the two hugging boys, her tiny hands twisting and turning in front of her. She reached up to Jonah and pulled his shirt hanging from his pants. “I love you just the way you are, Jonah, and I think yah skin is pretty,” she said with all the innocent wisdom of a five year old. Jobeth swelled ready to burst open with emotion. Out of the mouths of babes comes the honest truth. Jonah bent down and picked Shawna up in his arms, nestling his head into her tiny shoulder. She looked like a porcelain doll in his large embrace. He breathed deeply of her innocence, kissing the nape of her white neck. The child stung his aching heart. He had let her down by showing his fear when he had promised to protect her when she cried in the night. “Oh, little girl, I think Jonah let yah down. I luv yah too much to do it again. Jonah’s not gonna let himself get all crazy no more.” “Good,” Shawna said, pressing her warm cheek to his. “Guess I scared yah, huh?” he asked taking a deep cleansing breath. He felt Shawna’s soft cheek go up and down. “Won’t do it again.” “Promise?” “I promise.” Jonah chuckled feeling a little like his old self. “Ol’ Jonah has a time of it some days, running off at the mouth like a fool. But we all act a little touched sometimes.” They ate the stew in silence and just as quietly left with the sun falling behind horizon. Fortunately, the morning snow had melted and the evening air warmed a little. The three eldest felt leery of the changed weather. They knew it was only a matter of time before winter would finally make a permanent appearance. They needed to find winter shelter before the cold settled in or they would not survive. They trudged on in weather that became harder and harder to bear, sleeping in whatever shelter they could find: abandoned sheds, overturned wagons, caves and once two large boulders with a blanket as a roof. The weather was beginning to show its affect on them, Jobeth in particular. As much as she tried to ignore her pregnancy, at nearly six months along she could no longer deny her condition. At night, when she thought everyone was sleeping, she let the waist out of her dresses. Her numb fingers worked by firelight, diligently creating a dress that hid her growing frame. She tried not to think of her pregnancy often. If she did, which usually happened when she felt the child move inside her, she became panicked and guilt-ridden. As Jobeth’s waist grew, her strength continued to wane. Her slender face had begun to look pinched. Her eyes were framed with dark circles and her arms and legs had wasted away to thin sticks. Her body constantly ached from the cold and traveling; she suffered an almost constant pain in her abdomen. She knew the baby was in danger but refused to think of the outcome. It was all too much to think of and stay sane. They finally came to another city several weeks after leaving the last. This one was smaller--just starting to develop. Small wooden buildings littered the landscape, not yet completely digested with homes and business. This was a good sign. The smaller the town, the better chance that news of distant cities had not reached it. Upon seeing the town ahead of them, Alan felt like crying out in relief. He was very worried about Jobeth and her deteriorating appearance. She needed to see a doctor and she needed a warm place where she could heal and feel better. He still didn’t realize that she was pregnant. She had done herself justice with her dresses. Covered in layers of clothing as they all were, it was hard to see her belly increasing in size. Wearing what they owned to keep warm, their blankets wrapped around them for shelter from the cold, it was almost impossible to tell she was with child. Jonah knew, though. He had watched quietly from his sleeping area while Jobeth squinted by the fire fixing her garments. He figured out that she did not want anyone to know of her condition and started to wonder if Jobeth cared to have the child at all. What were her secrets? Jonah only hoped that they would soon come to a town, or else he was afraid neither Jobeth nor her unborn child would make it. After searching for an hour, they found an abandoned house with only minor damage caused by neglect. They entered the house and slept where they fell, all too exhausted to bother with a fire or removing their layers of clothing. Jobeth slept late the next morning and when she awoke Alan had already left for town. She yawned, giving a fleeting look to Jonah and Shawna who sat on the floor talking in whispers. Not wanting to disturb her, they had been quiet knowing she needed her rest. “He’s gone to look for work,” Jonah said, noticing that Jobeth looked a little better from her long sleep. “Gonna be no more stealing around here. We gonna live like good folks and give Shawna a real home.” Jonah nodded his head and gave the child one of his famous smiles full of teeth. “We might actually stay?” Jobeth stretched, her body crying out in pain. Jonah nodded again, not looking at Jobeth. He wanted to tell her he knew about the baby, but he did not know how to go about it. Every time he looked at her, he could not keep his eyes from resting on her small, round belly. “Alan says we stay for the winter whether he finds work or not. We ain’t runnin’ no more this winter.” Jobeth sighed with relief and lay back down exhausted, and instantly fell fast asleep. “Well, Shawna, I guess we should clean up around here. It looks like we gonna be here for awhile.” He stood up and began to tidy things, while Shawna shadowed him and Jobeth slept. Later in the day, Jobeth, feeling a little better, turned a rabbit Jonah and Shawna had recently caught over a fresh fire. She listened mutely as Shawna bragged about catching the rabbit when Alan came into the clean room. Jobeth brightened when he entered. She fluffed up her skirt unconsciously. She had begun to worry about him. He had been gone a long time. Shawna ran to Alan and jumped into his arms. The reserved phantom child she had once been at Mother Tomalina and Father James’ had completely disappeared. Alan, Jonah and Jobeth were her family now, fading the memories of her early life. “Hello!” Alan said, Shawna beaming in his arms. Jobeth noticed Alan slipping a piece of candy into the child’s small hand. Not putting Shawna down, he placed his hat on an old chair. A grim expression contorted his face as he turned to Jobeth and Jonah. “What is wrong?” Jonah asked, fear pinching his own features. “Nothing. It’s just…” He paused for effect and thought about his trip to town. The town was small but was beginning to build up. It would take years before it became very populated. Competition for work was little. Alan had traipsed up to the one and only carpentry building in the place and was instantly greeted with a friendly handshake and a job offer. Beaming, he could not keep his good news to himself any longer. “I got a job in town at the mill and this house is ours.” He swung Shawna into the air, making her giggle uncontrollably, then ran over to Jobeth and planted a kiss firmly on her cheek, Shawna still in his protective arms. He then went to Jonah and proceeded to play fight, Shawna now riding on his back. All of them hooting and laughing loudly. The air was filled with excitement and happiness. Jobeth stood by the pot, smiling and holding the side of her cheek. Alan kissed her. back to top

Musical The Color Purple

2009-02-15T15:08:00.001-08:00

So Yesterday my husband took me to Toronto to see the AMAZING musical The Color Purple. It was awesome. I cried pretty much before the play even started because I have wanted to see this musical since I heard about it the first time a few yrs ago, when it was in Chicago.... and have dreamed about going ever since. I love the movie, LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. It is by far one of my favourite movies ever. I enjoyed the book and own it in paperback and ebook HAHA! Big surprise. I also have the movies both in VHS (well I bought it the first time it was available to buy!) and bought the DVD some time back. If you love musicals... even if you don't love musical, give yourself a little treat and go see this. I promise you, you won't be disappointed. If I ever had another daughter I think I would want to name her Alice Celie, because Alice created a character in Celie that is heartwarming, inspiring and endearing that has left a place in my heart from the moment I first hear/read... dear God, I am 14yrs old. I am, I have always been a good girl..........

I love imagination. It can create anything, love, fear, excitement. Imagination is endless and essential to a quality life. To imagine is to know anything is possible.

Love it.

Well if anyone is following my blog you can see I have been adding chapters of my imagination every day. I plan to continue till I have finished posting all the chapters.

I am imagining that people will read it and love it nad beg for more, more of Poppies and more of my work.... in the best seller Embraced by the Light, Betty J Eadie says, "Imagination is the key to reality" And I believe that, because I BELIEVE.

Chapter 6- Poppies

2009-02-15T14:18:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 6 —
The transformation in Shawna was amazing. The days at Mother Tomalina and Father James’ quickly faded into an old nightmare. Children are astonishing in that respect, able to flourish after a terrible ordeal. She no longer clung to Jobeth’s skirts. Shawna thrived in the love and affection showered on her by the group. She went everywhere with Tamara and the boys. She loved fishing with Carter or Todd for dinner, or collecting wood with Adam and Jonah. The boys would take her into town to the local store and buy her candy and ribbons for her well-kept hair. Shawna’s small face would light up with joy as she sucked reverently on a candy piece. She was no longer a pale shell of a child, but a rosycheeked, bright-eyed girl. Jonah loved to throw Shawna high into the air, catching her safely in his strong arms. Jobeth smiled as she sat in the tall green grass, watching as Shawna let out full belly giggles. Everyone loved her. She was an inspiration to them all. Maybe it was because so many of them had been alone when they were her age or maybe it was simply the need to protect the five year old from the hurt they had experienced. Whatever the reason, Shawna was the inspiration for the small group of children to fix up the old house. To make it a home. “A child shouldn’t live in a shack. Especially one about to fall in on itself,” Alan announced one evening about two weeks after Jobeth and Shawna had come to live with them. He directed his speech to everyone as he stood up from the tattered dinner table. Secretly he wanted a nice home for both Shawna and Jobeth. “I agree,” Tamara said with her arms folded tightly across her chest. She pushed herself away from the table, leaving her half-eaten stew. Everyone turned to her, surprised. Tamara’s affections toward Shawna continued to amaze the boys. This warm and tender spirit was not the girl they knew. “And she needs clothes. I could sew her some pretty dresses, if I had some material.” “We’ll get some.” Alan said, firmly placing his hands on the table while carefully avoiding splinters. “We will get some material so all the girls can have new dresses.” Tamara’s head snapped up in response to Alan. Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing. She had longed for new dresses for some time, but no one had seemed to notice. “An’ apples,” Jonah smiled, bouncing Shawna on his lap. “I wants to plant an apple tree right in front, so’s me and Shawna can pick an apple for breakfast every mornin’.” “Well, Jonah,” Alan chuckled feeling proud of himself, “I’ll leave the planting to you.” “That’s just fine by me.” Jonah smacked the palm of his hand on his free leg. “We’ll have a great big ol’ tree just drippin’ with fat, juicy apples.” “Yummy!” squealed Shawna as she hugged Jonah around the neck. Her white face pressed firmly onto Jonah’s dark one. She looked like the porcelain doll Adam brought home one afternoon. It was a beautiful doll that resembled Shawna, with long, blonde hair as soft as silk and bright blue eyes that closed when you laid her down. She had a dress of royal blue velvet that billowed around her porcelain knees. The dress was trimmed in white lace and matching blue ribbons went in her hair. The doll must have cost a small fortune, which Jobeth knew Adam did not have. She could not help wondering how he had been able to get the beautiful doll for the child who had never owned anything so wonderful before in her life. “I am naming her Donna,” Shawna squealed kissing Adam squarely on his cheek. Jobeth swallowed the lump growing in her throat. It did not matter how Adam got the doll. Shawna deserved it. She thanked him kindly, causing him to blush red. They all seemed to shower the little girl with gifts. On another day Alan brought home an old, small trunk. He sanded it down and gave it to Shawna to keep her dolls and their clothes in. Shawna had never had anything so beautiful. She touched the smooth surface and began to cry softly. “Thank you, Alan,” the child said and hugged him around the waist tightly. Alan stiffened, unsure how to react to the child’s affection. But her thin little arms felt so warm and trusting that he relaxed and hugged her back. As the days past Tamara and Jobeth slowly became friends, if not close friends. True to his word, Alan bought material for Jobeth and Tamara. They made clothes together and Jobeth had to admit that Tamara was an excellent seamstress. She fashioned Shawna the prettiest dresses Jobeth had ever seen, with matching ribbons to go in her hair. Jobeth loved seeing Shawna prance around in her new frocks, ribbons bouncing in two long braids down her back Tamara would clap her hands with glee while Shawna would twirl around and around, her petticoats flying high. Jobeth could not help loving her own dresses. She made high-collared, puffsleeved dresses that were a little extravagant, but it had been so long since she had anything nice, let alone new, that she could not hold back from the latest styles. Tamara’s dresses were very low-cut and exposed most of her cleavage. Jobeth was mortified when Tamara returned home with a small bottle of red dye. She intended to dye her beautiful modest blue dress a brilliant red. Jobeth could not help wondering where Tamara had acquired her flamboyant taste. All three girls blossomed in the glory of their new apparel. The boys had to admit that the women of the house looked too classy for a bunch of scallywag boys. Jobeth liked living with the boys and Tamara. They were not her parents and Pauli, but they were the next best thing. She tried to disregard the time spent with the Johnstons. She did not want to destroy the small comforts she had escaped to. It was a hot early morning and Jobeth and Tamara were busy washing their clothing in the lake when Jobeth’s head began to swim dizzily. She stopped scrubbing Alan’s shirt on a rock and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. “Another spell?” Tamara asked off-handily, her hands never stopped scrubbing. She did not want to sound concerned. Since the first day Tamara and Jobeth had locked horns, Tamara had witnessed the thin girl trying to hide her sickness more than once. Even though she hated to admit it, she had become fond of Jobeth. She was beginning to get worried. Jobeth was the only girlfriend she had ever had. “Huh?” Jobeth had forgotten Tamara was beside her. “Oh, yes.” “Well, I think it’s time for a doctor,” Tamara said, casually banging Oliver’s slacks across the rocks. “Damn soap, can never get this crap out of the clothes.” Jobeth smiled weakly. Tamara’s cursing did not offend her any longer. She found Tamara’s outbursts amusing. “Here, give them to me.” Jobeth reached for the pants and began wringing the soap out. “You can cook up a storm and you sew better than anyone I have ever seen, but you are the worst clothes washer in history, Tamara.” Jobeth breathed trying to ignore the waves of dizziness. “Well, we can’t all be perfect,” Tamara scowled, grabbing one of Shawna’s soiled dresses from the basket of dirty clothes. She fingered the dress absently, stealing a quick glance at Jobeth. “You think I sew good?” “Yes, the very best.” Jobeth replied fighting back the wooziness. “You could be a seamstress.” “You don’t look so good.” Jobeth’s skin had become colorless. “Thanks. Remind me never to give you a compliment again.” Jobeth wiped loose strands of her bun from her sweaty face. “No, you look sick.” Tamara continued as she dipped the dress into the cool water. Jobeth stopped her scrubbing and turned her head to see Shawna’s pigtailed head bent over her dolls in the grass near by. “Well, I have to admit I have not felt quite like myself lately,” Jobeth confided, her eyes downcast. Her hands in her lap were wet and soapy and she began to rub them on her skirt to dry them. “Yah know,” Tamara tittered, slapping her hand on Jobeth’s back, “if you weren’t such a goody-two-shoes, I’d think you was in the family way.” Blood drained from Jobeth’s face and she clutched the other girl’s arm. Tamara drew back as she watched Jobeth’s pale face turn an even ghastlier white. “Jobeth, I was just foolin’.” Tamara fretted. She grabbed a rag from the pile of clean clothes and damped it in the stream, placing it on Jobeth’s fevered brow. Jobeth looked at Tamara’s fearful face. Her eyes rolled back into her head and everything went black. “Jobeth! Jobeth!” She could feel someone tapping her face, but Jobeth would not open her eyes. Shawna, distracted by the commotion, put her dolls down and went over to the stream where Tamara was hovering over Jobeth. “What is wrong with Jobeth?” Shawna asked, patting Tamara’s shoulder. Fear began to crawl up Shawna’s spine. Jobeth looked like she was sleeping, but the panic rising from Tamara reminded Shawna of Donna and how she had went to sleep and never woke up. “Shawna, go get someone quick!” Tamara did not know what to do and she was as frightened as the platinum-haired child. Shawna stood frozen to the spot not moving, her eyes fixed on Jobeth’s gray face. In a panic, Tamara screamed, “Move it, quick!” Shawna jumped into action and started scrambling up the hill to the house. Jonah and Alan were outside testing the new steps they had just built. Alan patted Jonah’s shoulder proudly, “Very good, old boy, if I do say so myself.” “Not bad, not bad.” Jonah replied, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders. Running up the hill madly, Shawna spotted them. “Alan . . . Jonah!” She heaved trying to catch her breath. They turned, surprised to see Shawna’s flushed face. Jonah bent to the exhausted girl. “Slow down, little one, what’s the matter?” “Jobeth . . .” “What about her?” Alan jumped in, his heart starting to beat fast. He looked where Shawna had come from and could see nothing. “At the lake . . . she is sleeping and won’t get up,” Shawna finally spit out bent over, trying to catch her breath. Jonah gently took Shawna’s hand in his large dark one. “You show us where she is, all right sweetheart? Yah done a good job so far, but yah gots to show us where Jobeth is.” He glanced up at Alan, hoping he had been listening to him too. He was aware of Alan’s feelings for Jobeth and did not want him to fly off the handle. Alan paid no attention to Jonah as he shifted from one leg to the other, impatiently. Shawna, her breath coming back to her, pulled at Jonah’s hand to lead them back to Jobeth. The lake was only down a small hill behind the house and within moments they were beside Tamara and Jobeth, who was still unconscious. Alan rushed up to them and quickly scooped up Jobeth’s frail body in his arms. She had gained some weight since she came to live with them, but she was still as light as a feather. “Jobeth?” Alan whispered into her ear. Her head rested on his shoulder and he could feel her even breath against his cheek, warm and alive. She stirred and let out a mumble. “She’s coming to.” Alan called over his shoulder to the relief of the three standing there. Alan began to soothe Jobeth with soft whispers, “Jobeth, it’s Alan. Wake up.” Weak as a kitten, she lifted her head from his comforting shoulder. She squinted while trying to open her eyes against the bright sun. “Alan?” “Yes?” Alan’s voice was husky and felt trapped in his throat. “What happened?” Jobeth looked around her. The last thing she remembered was washing clothes with Tamara. Tamara looked down at Jobeth’s pale face, relieved she was alive. “Yah fainted. Never had anyone faint on account of my bad mouth.” Jobeth felt ridiculous. She looked up at Alan, abashed, and struggled to sit up. .“I am so sorry,” she said, feebly trying to compose herself. “Are you all right?” Alan’s voice was full of emotion. The smell of Jobeth’s hair, crisp and clean like the lake, lingered in his nostrils. He wanted to hold her light-brown locks up to his nose and inhale deeply. His heart ached for his sweet Jobeth. He was desolate. If anything happened to her, he wouldn’t know what to do. Jobeth gazed into Alan’s strange green eyes; genuine concern for her welfare flooded through him so strongly she felt overwhelmed and ashamed. “I am fine,” she murmured, avoiding those feline eyes. She tried to stand up, feeling undeserving of Alan’s affection. She didn’t deserve anyone’s care. Not with the realization of what was wrong with her. It all made sense. Her recurring sickness and dizziness. Her missed monthlies. How long had it been since she had menstruated? At least three months. Her waist had been slowly disappearing. How could she not know? Mama had explained what happened to a woman when she was to become a mother. Why had Jobeth not known? Tamara had guessed, but dismissed the very notion because she believed Jobeth to be pure. Tamara was wrong about her. “Let’s bring our sick girl to the house,” Jonah said, hovering behind Alan like a mother hen. Alan nodded and held on firmly to Jobeth’s shaking arms. “No. I am able to finish my chores. Let me go please.” She pulled away abruptly. Alan flinched aware of how close he was to her. “Jobeth, I can do the wash fine by myself. I was doin’ it alone for a long time,” Tamara said, afraid Jobeth would faint again. Jobeth stood up straight, her legs feeling wobbly. She walked over to Shawna and gave her a reassuring pat on the head. “I am fine. It was just the heat,” Jobeth said, not facing the worried people in front of her. “I refuse to go and lie down when there is work to be done. Quit worrying about me and get back to your own chores.” She walked over to the laundry, grabbed the garment she had been cleaning before she fainted and continued where she left off, not daring to look at the open-mouthed group behind her. Tamara looked to Jobeth in disbelief. She shrugged her shoulders at Alan and Jonah, who stood bewildered. “You heard her, back to work,” Tamara squawked, shooing the two baffled boys away. Not knowing what to do or how to protest, they reluctantly turned around and began to ascend the hill. Tamara went back to smacking clothes on the rocks, glancing every few minutes back at Jobeth. “Stop mothering over me, Tamara,” Jobeth said, without pausing for a break. Shawna, satisfied that Jobeth was all right, went back to her dolls. She gently sat down on her quilt littered with porcelain babies and was instantly lost in her make-believe land once again. Tamara bent her head down low and sneaked a peek out of the corner of her eye. “I ain’t motherin’ no one.” “Humph, could have fooled me,” Jobeth sniffed, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She attacked the garment she was washing with fervor. Tamara raised her eyebrow, but pretended not to hear as she too went about her duties. Both girls continued to work in silence. Jobeth felt Tamara’s eyes burning into her back. Guilt flooded her entire body. The heat of her eyes burned straight to Jobeth’s flat belly. It felt hot and heavy. Could everyone tell she was with child? She thought of Alan’s round face full of concern. Jobeth banged the piece of clothing harder onto to the rock, trying to beat out the frustration she felt. A savage scream filled her mind, causing her to slump over, exhausted. She stared down at the beaten shirt, unable to swallow this new discovery. She did not want to leave the people she had come to love in the last two months. She did not want to take Shawna from the only family she had ever known. Jobeth pressed her fingers to her head and squeezed; she could see no other alternative. Jobeth watched as Shawna continued playing with her dolls, unaware of the new situation thrust upon her charge. Her cheeks radiated color and health. Her tiny voice tinkled on the wind with the innocence of childhood naivety. Was it fair to remove the child from her new home? Jobeth’s throat tightened. She could not take Shawna when she left. She Couldn’t steal her childhood away again. Pain tore at her heart and her chest felt as though it would cave in. Life would be unbearable without little Shawna. A tear trickled down her face and Jobeth wiped it away unconsciously. She would never be happy again. She looked to the sky. It was a beautiful day. Her eyes went longingly to the hill and the house she now called home. She squinted, shielding her vision with her hand. A lone figure was running towards them. Jobeth stood up and looked closer. It was Jonah with a look of dread on his face. He stumbled to the ground and jumped up, brushing the dust off of himself. Jonah was yelling something, but Jobeth could not understand what he was trying to say. She turned to Tamara, who had stood up, confused. “What the hell is wrong with him?” “The sheriff! The sheriff! They’s after us! They’s after us!” Jonah yelled, coming closer. Tamara started walking towards Jonah, but stopped in her tracks upon hearing the words come out of his mouth. Jonah finally reached them, panting as he bent over, supporting himself on Tamara’s shoulder. She grabbed him under the arm to keep him from falling onto his face. “Jonah, what are you talking about?” Jobeth asked, lifting Shawna up. The child had run to her when Jonah ran down the hill. “The sheriff . . .” Jonah panted. “They done found us out.” He looked as though someone had poured a bucket of ice-cold water on his head “Ole man Willard caught us stealin’ at the store today. Todd and Oliver gots away from him, but he done got the sheriff after us.” He stopped and looked at Tamara. His friendly ginger eyes were wide with fear. “We gotta split.” Jonah began to shiver. Tamara placed her arm around him protectively. “And yah knows what’ll happen to me,” he said, wide-eyed. Tamara frowned. “I am hung. Ol’ man Willard said it before. And I bet yah I will! I will!” “Damn it to hell,” Tamara’s old voice boomed. Whimpering sounds escaped Jonah’s pink lips. “I don’t want Jonah to hang, Jobeth,” Shawna crushed her pale fist into her eyes. Jobeth felt helpless. She did not want Jonah to hang either. Feeling as though the wind were let out of her sails, She began to gather the clothes up into a heap. Everything was moving fast. Her mind whirled trying to absorb all the new information flooding it. “Don’t just stand there like you don’t have a brain in yah head, move Jobeth! Move!” Tamara grabbed the damp clothes clutched tightly in Jobeth’s arms. “Get Shawna’s dolls and stuff into her trunk and get to the house!” Relieved, Jobeth jumped into action . Anxious faces turned to the lone figure standing in the kitchen. Light filtered through the windows giving Adam an ominous glow. “Alright,” he said calmly, “Here’s what we’ll do. The sheriff will be looking for a large group of us. We would be caught like a coyote in a chicken coop if we were all together.” Jobeth felt as though she were being torn apart. All her wrenching over what to do about her pregnancy was for nothing. She was going to have to leave her new family anyway. Grief filled her heart and soul as she fought back the urge to cry. All their belongings were quickly packed and tied to their backs in makeshift packs. It had taken only minutes to get their meager belongings together. “We will have to split up,” Adam finally revealed. He twisted his cap in his hands, nervously. “Todd, Carter and I will go together. Tamara and Oliver will be together and Alan, Jonah, Jobeth and Shawna will be together - nobody will be alone. When it’s possible, we’ll get together again.” “Where?” yelled Tamara, standing beside Oliver and looked as though she might cry. Oliver looked miserable as he placed a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “Hell, Tamara, I don’t know,” Adam choked, running his hand through his sandy blond hair. “What yah really mean is we isn’t ever gonna see each other again.” Tamara cried. Huge tears fell freely from her ebony eyes. “Yes, we will,” Adam stammered, uncertain if he spoke the truth. He had never seen Tamara cry or look so vulnerable. The effect was quite unsettling and he could not look at the beautiful, red-eyed girl without wanting to cry too. For the first time Tamara looked like an angel sent straight from heaven with all the sorrows of the world on her feathered shoulders. “All I know is we have to. God help us. But we can’t be worrying about that now. We gotta get outta here fast.” He went and stood beside Carter who was staring at the ground, kicking dirt angrily with the toe of his boot. Oliver encircled Tamara in his arms as she willingly succumbed, sobbing hard. “We’re gonna be alright, Tamara,” he whispered, brushing his hand through her silky curls. “I’ll take care of yah. Don’t worry.” Tamara sobbed and hugged Oliver closer. “Everything’s gonna be all right,” he said without conviction as he saw the look of despair in his fellow friends’ faces. It was written just as plainly on their faces as if it had been printed in the newspaper. The likelihood of them ever seeing each other again was doubtful. Jobeth shifted the weight of her sack. It was slightly heavier than when she had arrived three months earlier with only the clothing on her back. She shivered and squeezed Shawna’s hand. Would she ever see her new friends again? At least she had Alan and Jonah with her this time. She would not be alone with the responsibilities. The thought of the baby she was carrying flashed through her mind like a hurricane. She quickly erased it. For the moment there were more important things to worry about. They ran as fast as they could from the others who had, just a short time ago, been part of them. The three groups separated and went in three different directions. Jobeth turned towards the direction Tamara and Oliver had gone. Their hands were clasped together, Tamara’s jet black hair streamed out behind them. The image quickly faded. Soon all she could see were two black dots. Why do I always lose the people I love? Jobeth screamed in her head. For she felt love for the people she had just left. The wind ripped viciously at her face, blowing away the tears as they started to fall. Alan carried Shawna in his arms. Her little legs clutched tightly to his waist. She wondered how he could run with Shawna’s full weight burdening him. He looked over at Jobeth who was nestled safely between Jonah and himself. He told Adam and Carter that he wanted Jobeth, Shawna and Jonah with him. Adam had not liked the idea of the four of them together. It would have been more reasonable for Jonah to go with Oliver and Tamara. “No.” Alan had said strongly, taking no other answer. “He comes with me and so do Jobeth and Shawna.” Adam nodded giving in to Alan. There was no time to argue. The sheriff would be there at any moment and they needed to get away. Sheriff Duncan Migel was a cruel man who had been waiting for just this moment to get Adam and his crew behind bars. Adam shivered. They needed to get out of there fast. “All right, Alan, he goes with you. But be careful--you guys are gonna look like Poppies in a field of daisies.” “I’ll take that chance.” Alan replied, his face stone cold. They were running so fast, Jobeth feared she would fall behind. Jonah firmly grabbed hold of her arm, helping her keep pace. She smiled at him and was thankful as they continued on. When dusk came, they stumbled into a field and fell asleep exhausted. Jobeth woke to the sun shining in her face. For a moment she was confused as to where she was. Then she saw the frosted yellow grass around her. She sat up and faced Jonah. He was squatting a short distance from Jobeth, his elbows resting on his knees and his index finger was playing with his front teeth. Rubbing the remainder of sleep out of her eyes, she stood up feeling as though her legs would give out from under her. “Jonah,” she said, her legs crying out in pain from the journey the day before. “Jobeth,” he said through a weak smile. He stood up and came over toward her, gently taking her arm. “Legs a little wobbly from running?” “It would seem that way.” Jobeth grabbed his helpful hand. Wincing, she pressed her free hand to her spine. “Yah better try and walk it off because as soon as Alan comes back, we will be heading out again.” “Where is he?” Jobeth asked while walking in circles with Jonah. The pain in her legs was slowly turning into a dull throb. “He took Shawna out with him to hunt up some food.” Jonah searched the clouded sky with his eyes. “Are you all right Jonah?” “Oh yah,” Jonah grinned, “I just worried about the others. They’s like my family is all. I hates to lose more family.” Jobeth nodded. She understood more than he knew. “They will be all right, Jonah.” “Yah, I guess you’s right.” They stood silently side-by-side, Jonah holding Jobeth’s arm protectively. Neither spoke for a long time. Alan and Shawna found them still standing in the same position. Shawna was giggling about the rabbit they caught together. When they came upon Jobeth and Jonah, they stopped for a moment, afraid to break the peace emanating from the two stone figures. Alan coughed, embarrassed, and sat down on the ground by the dead fire. He removed his hunting knife and began to gut the rabbit. “What’s the problem?” he asked trying to sound casual. “Ah, nothin’,” Jonah said, breaking the silence. He bent down and grabbed a burlap sack beside the bundle of belongings and removed some potatoes. The food had been divided into three portions before they had left the others. “Let’s start a fire for that delicious rabbit you caught,” Jobeth said cheerfully to Shawna. Shawna jumped up. Tiny wood chips clung to her dress and she absently brushed them off as she skipped towards Jobeth. Alan watched out of the corner of his eye as Jobeth and Shawna disappeared into the tall grass. “Winter is just about here,” Alan said as he peeled the soft fur from the rabbit. He would keep the fur and make Shawna some mittens. Jonah nodded, not saying a word. He sensed Alan had something on his mind he needed to get off. “Jobeth and Shawna need a home. A real home.” Alan continued, never pausing in his butchering, “I have to give them that.” “You will, you will.” Jonah agreed while starting to peel potatoes. “I have to,” he said firmly, looking off into the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. After a quick breakfast they packed up the remainder of their food and started on their way again—this time walking. They were going farther from the people they loved and further into an uncertain future. Jobeth wondered about the rest of her new family. This continued to be in her thoughts as the four traveled on. Each time she awoke to the sun shining in her face, she wondered about them. Each time she fell asleep under the vast black sky with its many eyes glaring down at her, she wondered where the others were, and if she would ever see them again. Wild Tamara, so angry and untamed. Oliver with his piercing blue eyes and irresistible charm. Shy Todd who barely said a word but always had a special pocket full of treats for a little five-year-old girl. Carter, the shadow of his best friend, Adam. And Adam, the brave leader of them all. Were they all right? Did they sleep well last evening, alone for the first time in who knew how long? Were they as scared as she? It was something she knew she would always worry about and she wished that they were all safe and back together at the old abandoned house they had made home. back to top

Poppies Chapter 5

2009-02-15T14:17:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 5 — As Jobeth sat on the mattress listening intently to Oliver, Shawna slept peacefully in her arms. The child’s pale hair fanned out across Jobeth’s lap and she absently stroked the silky locks. “We all just gradually hooked up with one another.” Oliver said calmly. His elbows rested comfortably on his lap as his hands dangled freely between his knees. Jobeth could not help noticing Alan looking at Oliver uncomfortably. She shook off the feeling of animosity and turned her attention back to Oliver. “So you don’t have any parents?” Jobeth inquired, facing him. His eyes danced with amusement. “Not one of us has a parent. They’re either dead or just up and left.” He smiled and leaned in closer to Jobeth. “What about you? Where are your parents?” Jobeth darted her eyes away and began staring at her hands in her lap. Her nails were broken and black and the lines in the palm of her hand were embedded with dirt. She nervously began to stroke Shawna’s soft, blond locks. Tears tried to force themselves to the surface, but Jobeth swallowed them back. “I have no parents. Shawna and I are all alone.” “Is Shawna your sister?” Jonah asked, sitting beside Tamara. He had been silently listening to Jobeth and Oliver. Jobeth looked up at him, still surprised at his color. She had only seen black people a couple of times around her hometown, and always on the poor side of citizenry. But the blacks and whites never spoke to each other. She was embarrassed to admit it, but she had never paid much attention to the colored folks. They were like apart of the scenery, standing on the corner or in the store. She had never taken notice. “Yes,” she lied, not looking up. It wasn’t completely untrue, Shawna felt like a sister. Alan noticed Jobeth’s uneasiness and sensed she was not used to addressing colored folks. Studying her tired face, Alan saw only kindness. She had probably never spoken to a black person before. Once she got to know Jonah, she would love him like everyone else did. Even Tamara, who pretty much hated everyone and everything, loved Jonah. “I think it’s time we let Jobeth sleep,” Alan announced, still looking at her. Relieved, Jobeth’s eyes met his. He tried again to smile warmly at her, but it only came out twisted, making him look ridiculous. “But we want to hear more,” Tamara chided, lying back on her side, her head resting snugly on her propped hand. She smiled sweetly. Jobeth ignored her. She was tired and did not want to answer any more questions. Too many questions would lead to too many truths, and that was the last thing she wanted them to know. Then they would throw her out and keep Shawna. They could never know the truth about what had happened to her. She would never let that happen. “There’s plenty of time to talk,” Alan interrupted, scowling at Tamara. “That is, if Jobeth decides to stay with us.” He held his breath, afraid of the answer. Alan could not explain it, but he felt the need to protect her and her little sister. Jobeth stared at Alan, open-mouthed. She hadn’t thought of staying permanently. “Please stay, Jobeth,” Oliver repeated leaning even closer to her. “Well, I don’t know…” Jobeth stumbled. She still felt a little frightened of these people. Tamara’s face was red with anger. Her friendly smile was now gone. Did she want to spend the whole winter with a girl who obviously did not like her and felt threatened by her? Tamara’s expression to Oliver was one of disgust. She flopped herself flat on the mattress, turning her back to Jobeth and Oliver. “There is no need for her ta answer that question, Oliver,” Alan answered for Jobeth. “We all can leave any time we want and so can Jobeth. Stay as long as yah want.” He layed down on a mattress and yawned, his eyes never leaving Jobeth. “Lots to do tomorrow, better get some shuteye.” She stared back, grateful. Alan nodded as she snuggled in beside Shawna. Oliver stood up and went to the mattress Tamara was sleeping on. Lying down beside her, he whispered something into her ear and she elbowed him roughly in the stomach. He chuckled, said something Jobeth could not hear and crawled onto a mattress with another boy. Jonah, smiling at Oliver’s behavior, crept away from the fighting couple and over to Alan’s mattress. He laid his large frame down, not noticing the difference between his frame and Alan’s lean one. “I like her,” Jonah whispered to Alan’s rigid back. “Me too,” Alan whispered back, wide-eyed, staring at Jobeth’s already sleeping form. “Me too.” Jobeth awoke refreshed and in good spirits for the first time in a long time. She sat up feeling a little stiff and confused, unable to remember where she was. Suddenly she became frightened. Where was she? Her head spun around from side to side taking in the objects around her. Then the events of the past evening flooded her memory. Alan and Oliver. Tamara. It all came back in a rush of events. She turned to check on Shawna and smiled at the sleeping child beside her. The poor thing was still asleep, completely exhausted from all the activities of the past month. Jobeth pulled the blanket Oliver had given her over Shawna’s frail shoulders and lightly kissed her warm cheek. “Good mornin’.” boomed a deep voice. Jobeth spun around to face Jonah. Her hand clasped her heart and she did not know what to do. Jonah loomed large with broad shoulders over her. “Good morning,” Jobeth said, reserved, her eyes avoiding him. She had remembered when Mother Tomalina had been offered a black baby. She had refused to take the baby, stating that there was no way she was having one of those kind in her home. Jobeth had not understood the comment. She had been in the kitchen peeling potatoes at the sink when the nice-looking lady with brown hair and a straw hat had come to the door holding the dark, crying infant. The baby was dressed in a darling white crocheted bonnet and dress that flattered the infant’s chocolate colored skin. “But Mrs. Johnston, the child has nowhere to go. You are my last hope,” the lady begged. The baby flailed its tiny feet, knocking off one of the matching white booties and exposing a brown foot with a pinkish underside. Jobeth leaned closer to the door to listen, her knife poised over a half-peeled potato. Mother Tomalina always wanted babies. For reasons unknown to Jobeth, Mother Tomalina had a soft spot for small babies. Maybe it was because they didn’t yet have a personality to offend her, or maybe it was because they did not look at her drawn, wrinkled face with disgust. Whatever the reason, it did not last long. As soon as the child was old enough to walk, Mother Tomalina would have nothing to do with it. “No. Now leave with that--that thing, now.” Mother Tomalina ordered the lady out of the house. “Bring me a white child, even an Indian, but never bring those soulless creatures into my home,” she ordered. “I will not have the children of Ham under my roof.” The woman left, enraged, and Mother Tomalina went to pray. As soon as Jobeth was sure Mother Tomalina was deep in prayer, she left the potatoes in the sink and went outside. She bent down where the baby had kicked off the bootie and picked it up. The yarn was silky to the touch. Jobeth couldn’t’ help herself and rubbed the small garment to her cheek, feeling its warm comforting touch. Before her parents were killed, Jobeth had asked her Mama about the black people. “Some feel they are different--inferior--to us white people.” Mama said while knitting in her favorite chair. “But the white people were the ones who enslaved the blacks, and no one, black or white should be treated like an animal.” She put down her knitting, motioning Jobeth to sit down in front of her. Jobeth listened and knelt down. As Constance Roberts began to braid her daughter’s long golden brown hair, warmth and safety enveloped Jobeth. “Remember, my dear, we are all God’s children and in the end when we are in heaven, all color fades to a bright light and in that light, there is only love.” Jobeth looked at the little shoe and the warmth she had felt when her mother braided her hair lingered. She gently folded the bootie and placed it in the pocket of her dress. Jobeth looked at Jonah, ashamed. His size was threatening, but his face and his smile were kind and genuine. “I owe you an apology Jonah,” Jobeth said looking at his confused features. “Whatever for?” Jonah handed Jobeth some bread. “I am afraid I have judged you unfairly.” Jobeth looked down at her hand holding the bread Jonah had given her. “Aw, you ain’t the first,” he smiled brightly, “and you won’t be the last. Everyone does at first. It’s cause I’s so big for my age and I’s so dark and all. Least yah say you’re sorry. Don’t normally gets a ‘sorry’ from folks.” Jobeth felt her apprehension starting to leave. “I guess you had a good sleep?” Jonah asked, coming close. He sat on the nearest mattress to Jobeth. “Sit down, Jobeth. Sit down.” He patted the mattress beside him. Jobeth walked over and sat down uneasily beside the massive youth. Too many things had changed in her life in such a short period. It was hard for her to overcome. She had never spoken to a black person before and now she sat inches away from one. She couldn’t help feeling dirty around people. After what Father James had done to her--why would anyone want to be around her? She closed her eyes and took a bite of the dry bread. I am not going to think about that! Jonah smiled and chuckled through a mouthful of bread. “Yah looks like yah got the weight of the world on those little bitty shoulders of yours.” “I do?” She twisted her hands, surprised at her outburst. She nibbled on her bread, angry with herself for revealing too much. “Where is everyone?” Jobeth gazed around the empty room, trying to change the subject. “They all gone to town,” Jonah smiled broadly displaying a mouthful of teeth that seemed to take up his whole face. She liked his smile. She started to relax again, the images of Father James forced to the back of her mind once more. Mama was right. Everyone was God’s child. “We has to treat the newcomers with class,” Jonah continued eating, whipping away breadcrumbs from his mouth with his massive paw of a hand. “Bread won’t do for the feast we gonna have tonight.” He lifted his crust of bread to Jobeth’s face. Instantly her stomach growled at the mention of a feast. It had been so long since she had eaten a good meal. She wondered if Shawna had ever eaten one. She felt warm inside thinking of the child feasting on good nutritious foods. “Yah,” Jonah continued, noticing the hunger in Jobeth’s eyes. “Carter and Adam are at work, but they promise to bring home a little extra for the dinner.” He grinned at Jobeth bashfully, his brown eyes twinkling with life. “Are yah hungry, Jobeth?” She blushed, ashamed that her hunger showed so plainly. “I am only hungry for Shawna,” Jobeth said with little conviction while sweeping the crumbs off her skirt. “Yah, I know how it is to be hungry for someone else.” Jonah laughed. Jobeth couldn’t help herself, she began to chuckle too. She sounded ridiculous. The sides of Jonah’s eyes creased and wrinkled with laugh lines. She wondered how old he was. His frame was the size of a man but his face was that of a boy, kind and gentle, not yet ruined from the cruelty of the world. “Jonah?” Jobeth asked, “How old are you?” She blushed. She felt like her tongue did not belong to her. She had lost all sense of the good manners she had been raised with. Tears burned behind her eyes. Could Jonah not see what a fraud she was? But she suddenly really needed his kindness and offer of friendship. “You are all so young,” she said, trying to recover from her mess-up. Her throat felt tight and it was hard to speak. “That we are.” He stared at the doorway to the rest of the house, lost in thought, unaware that Jobeth felt she had insulted him. He turned from the door and graced her with his beautiful smile. “All babes lost in this great big ol’ world. Well, let’s see. Carter and Adam are the oldest of the group. They’s eighteen and the best of friends you ever saw. Then there is Alan.” Jobeth eased up and felt her throat relax. She could not help noticing the look of worship on Jonah’s face at the mention of Alan. “Alan’s sixteen and Oliver the wild cat,” Jonah could not help but radiate as he spoke fondly of his only family, “he’s fifteen. Todd, he’s fourteen. He’s also Adam’s brother. He’s mighty shy, so don’t yah be getting upset and hurt if he don’t speak to yah.” Jonah wagged a finger seriously in Jobeth’s face. She shook her head, amused, and forgot her earlier shame. “And we can’t forget Tamara. Beautiful Tamara. She’s at the lovely age of fifteen. And I, well I’s sixteen too.” Shawna stirred waking up. She rubbed her eyes in the familiar way Jobeth had become accustomed to. “Well, if the sun hasn’t shined right in this very room.” Jonah beamed, standing up and walking toward Shawna. She quickly backed away from him, frightened. She had lived all of her life with Mother Tomalina and Father James. It was hard to remove a lifetime of learned racism in just one night. The messages the Johnston’s seeded in Shawna’s brain since infancy had taken plant and rooted on her shoulders for so long. “Now there is nothing to fear from old Jonah, little girl. Now look here.” Jobeth watched curiously as the boy searched in his pants pocket for something. Shawna eyed him with distrust. “I saved this just for you,” Jonah said, handing Shawna a large, shiny red apple. “Just for yah breakfast. A growing girl such as yourself needs an apple a day to keep the doctah away.” He chuckled, handing Shawna the red fruit. Shawna held the fleshy apple, her eyes feasting on the red color. She looked to Jobeth for approval and Jobeth nodded, smiling. Without a moment’s hesitation she took the apple and bit into it. “Mmmm . . . It’s GOOD!” She beamed up at Jonah. Apple juices ran down her chin. “Thank you!” She bit into it again, the sounds of crunching rang through the room and all fears of Jonah vanished with each sweet bite. “You are welcome. And since you love ma apples, I will bring one for yah every day.” Jonah said. He picked up Shawna and walked back to Jobeth. Jobeth reached her arms out for the little urchin and placed the apple child between the two of them. “Jobeth?” Jonah asked, handing each of them more bread. “Yes?” Jobeth placed the bread in her lap. She began to wipe away some breadcrumbs that had fallen onto her dress. “I always wants to know what a body wants out of this great big ol’ world. An’ I wants to know what you want too.” Jonah asked, looking at Jobeth sincerely. She knew he was serious with his question and it made her uncomfortable. She had given up all her hopes and expectations of the world. “What do you want?” Jobeth countered back, teasing, trying to avoid his questioning face. “Oh, I don’t know,” Jonah’s face puzzled up like an old rotten apple, “I guess I want people to see me and accept me as Jonah. Not the nigger boy. Not the poor black trash. Just Jonah.” He looked at Jobeth with wide, wet eyes. “See, I got two strikes against me. I’s black and I ain’t got no one but a bunch of white kids as family.” “But that is better than being any color and all alone.” Jobeth spoke softly. She felt for the man-child beside her. She knew what loneliness was and it did not discriminate. It attacked everyone it could. Jonah saw Jobeth’s fallen face and the sadness plainly displayed there. People’s troubles come in all forms, he thought. He perked up quickly, not wanting to darken this new encounter. “That’s right, Jobeth. I knew yah was meant to be a part of our family. I just knew it. I gots a bad habit of getting down on myself and the group is always at me, reminding me of the good things in life. Just like you just done.” Jobeth laughed and tickled Shawna, who giggled and bit into her half-eaten apple. It felt good to laugh. It had been a long time since she felt like laughing, since it felt safe to laugh. It might not be so bad to stay the winter with these people. They could not tell Father James had raped her. Besides, winter was nearly at the door and it would be good to spend the cold nights talking to Jonah. Maybe with time, she would even become friends with Tamara. She allowed herself to be content, if not happy. Maybe she could put the incident in the Johnston household behind her. Maybe she could forget and go on with her life. “Now quit tryin’ to change the subject. You tell me now what you’d like outta life.” Jonah scowled playfully. “I’d like to be as free as a birdie.” Shawna tittered. Jobeth still could not believe the change in Shawna. She had really transformed into a new little girl. It was hard to believe that Shawna had once been a frightened little phantom, afraid of her own shadow. “Me too,” Jobeth said dreamily. “I would like to fly away where no one would ever find me. Like a deserted island. I would eat wild berries and drink from a clear crystal stream. Then I would dive into its cool depths and be forever clean.” She blushed, embarrassed. Shawna and Jonah listened intently. Jonah put his hand on Jobeth’s knee and clasped her hand. It felt warm and friendly. “We have the same dreams,” he whispered. Stillness enveloped the room. “How did you meet up with these people, Jonah?” Jobeth coughed nervously. The silence between them had grown uncomfortable. “Well,” Jonah began, ripping his bread in two and handing half to Shawna. She took it greedily and began to munch down on it. “I was three when my ma died and a few years later my Pa died of a bad heart. I believe that it was a broken heart. He was always a silent man, but after Ma died of her headaches, he seemed to become even quieter. Into himself. I didn’t have no brothers and sisters on account of Ma nearly dying havin’ me. Pa said it messed her insides up pretty bad. Anyway, I was just wandering around, nearly starved, when I met up with these boys. Most have the same story. Some different. Some have been on their own as young as Shawna.” He ruffled Shawna’s hair. Shawna rolled her eyes up at him. “Yah, Tamara’s been on her own since she was seven. I don’t know much about Alan. He’s pretty quiet about his past.” Jobeth felt queer. Why was the boy Alan so secretive about his past? But then again, she did not want anyone to know about her own sordid history. She pushed the mystery of Alan’s previous life out of her mind. What did she care about a boy she did not know? Jobeth had enough to think about with Shawna and herself. She did not need to worry about Alan and his secrets. The door suddenly burst open, causing the three to jerk clear out of their seats. “Hey,” laughed a slobbering, drunk Oliver. He reeked of booze. Jobeth became frightened and reached for Shawna instinctively. “No need to dent the roof.” He stumbled into the room and nearly fell onto Jobeth. For a brief moment she felt like screaming. A memory of Father James looming above her popped into her mind and just as quickly faded when Alan grabbed Oliver by the collar of his shirt, frowning at him. “What? What did I do Alan?” Oliver looked confused and a little hurt. “You better learn how to handle your whisky, Oliver, or I might have to teach yah how.” Alan steamed. He had seen the look of terror cover Jobeth’s face. She could not help noticing Alan looking at her. She bent her head down and felt her face begin to burn red. Oliver sulked over toward Tamara who was standing in the doorway frowning down at Jobeth. She had also noticed Jobeth’s reaction to Oliver’s drunken behavior. “Hey, baby,” Oliver slurred at Tamara. A pink tongue protruded out of his mouth and darted into her small white ear. Tamara’s expression revealed that she was not impressed. “How about it honey? I need a little lovin’ and I know you can fill it.” He leaned over and planted a boozy kiss right on the nape of her neck. A shiver ran up Tamara’s spine. Softening, she gazed down at Oliver’s tousled black hair. She had a weak spot for his good looks and exquisite blue eyes. Eyes, she now noticed, trying to focus on the surprised Jobeth. Fury that seemed to always fill her snapped free. Tamara turned around so fast that Oliver did not have time to duck and her hand smashed into the side of his flushed face. “Pig!” She shrilled so loud that Shawna leapt into Jobeth’s lap. “You don’t talk to me that way or I will do more than slap yah. I knows how to do that too,” Tamara hollered. She stormed over to Alan, who was taking food out of the inside of his jacket. “Stop it, Oliver!” Alan said, shifting to Tamara. She began to remove food from her coat. Alan avoided looking at Jobeth. Oliver shook his head, touching the side of his face where Tamara’s handprint was already red and noticeable. He went to the nearest mattress and lay down. He did not understand what had come over Tamara. “We got a ham and a dozen eggs. Carter and Adam got some other stuff. We gotta be careful from now on. They’re startin’ to watch us closer.” Alan spoke to Tamara. “You women can go and begin this ham.” Alan avoided Jobeth’s fixed look. He could tell the look of disapproval in her eyes and it made him feel small. He was sure Jobeth had never stolen for her supper. It was plain to see in her eyes. Alan was sure he was right. She thinks I am trash, he thought, ashamed and humiliated. She is too good for us, for me. “C’mon.” Tamara said miserably as she picked up the ham and slung it loosely by her side. She did not even bother looking at Jobeth as she trudged out the door. Jobeth started to slowly stand up and follow the raven-haired beauty, unsure as to what to do. “Jobeth?” a small voice questioned. Jobeth wheeled around. She had forgotten about Shawna. The poor thing looked frightened as a scarecrow. Tears had begun to roll out the corners of her eyes and her bottom lip started to tremble. “Am I a woman? Do I go too?” She choked, trying not to cry. “Do you want to come?” Jobeth asked. She felt bad; her mind had been on Alan’s stealing and Tamara’s insolence. Shawna was her responsibility. She should not have concerned herself with how Alan and Tamara lived their lives. Shawna would be eating tonight. Eating until she was completely filled up. What did it matter where the food came from or how it had landed on their plates? It only mattered that it was there. Jobeth could not believe she had let herself forget about the little girl. She was going to have to be more careful. These people were temporary and this place was only a pit stop for the winter. Shawna was permanent—she was her whole future. Shawna nodded her head up and down, forcing the frown from her lips. She really liked Jonah and the attractive boy Oliver, but she still was not ready to be away from Jobeth. “Then come along,” Jobeth coaxed holding out her hand. Shawna grinned and jumped up from the mattress, running to Jobeth. “You’s in charge, Shawna,” Jonah said, pointing. “Don’t let those two diddledaddle with our feast.” “I won’t,” Shawna said, feeling better. Jobeth and Shawna went outside behind the broken-down house. Tamara was already building a fire. The ground was black and full of ashes. There were burnt twigs and black charcoal rocks placed in a circle. Logs were neatly stacked up against the wooden walls of the building. Tamara had already brought three good-sized logs beside the circle. “Shawna, honey,” Tamara said, surprisingly sweet. The young child looked at her fearfully, grabbing the hem of Jobeth’s frayed skirt. “If’n you wanna play, I have some pretty dolls up in the house by my mattress, just waitin’ to be played with by some beautiful girl just like you. You see, they happen to be lonely. No one’s played with them for a long time.” Shawna’s mouth grew into an ecstatic smile. She had never had dolls. Mother Tomalina did not believe in such indulgence. They were a waste of money, in her opinion. “Go play, Hun’.” Jobeth coaxed, thinking maybe Tamara was all bark and no bite. Shawna giggled and ran off excitedly into the ramshackle house. She quickly returned moments later with three porcelain dolls. They were beautifully made, with real human hair as blond as corn silk. Their faces were delicately painted with happy smiles. The dolls, Jobeth noticed, were well taken care of, their dresses clean and bright. Shawna sat down on the grass a little ways from the other girls and began to play. Tamara’s fire had started to take and she was preparing a spit to roast the ham on. “If you’re gonna stay, you better learn to cook.” Tamara said, glaring at Jobeth. She ignored the look. “Everyone has to work. Ain’t no room for one livin’ off the others here.” “I can work.” Jobeth spoke bitterly, poking a stick into the ground. The sight of the ham, which moments ago had caused her stomach to growl, now made it churn. Her breasts began to throb and she wondered if her monthly would soon start. She glanced at Tamara putting the ham on the spit. It looked red and the smell of raw pork began to repulse her. Her mouth began to water and bile rose in her throat suddenly. Turning to the bushes, she quietly spit up her bread that Jonah had given her for breakfast. Tamara watched out of the corner of her eye. She had been ready to argue with Jobeth for leaving her duties when she noticed her throwing up. Tamara turned back to her cooking. She hated being sick, but she was only briefly concerned for Jobeth. She didn’t like the scrawny gal invading her home. The little one, Shawna, was all right. She knew only too well what it was like to be so young and alone. “Sorry,” Jobeth said returning back to Tamara, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I haven’t been around solid food so long that I’m afraid my stomach can’t handle it.” Tamara nodded, not bothering to look at Jobeth’s waxen face. Oliver paid too much attention to the gaunt, stringy-haired girl. She couldn’t understand his attraction to her. She thought Jobeth’s hazel eyes were too big. Her hair was too straight and an awful mousy color. Although Jobeth’s dress was barely being held together, she had no body to contend with. She was built like a skinny child, compared to Tamara’s curvy frame. Tamara knew she turned all men’s and even some women’s eyes. She always had. People had always fantasized about her and lusted after her. And Oliver had been no different. She let him have her a few times. What did it matter to her? Sex was nothing new. She had always been surrounded by it. She was born in a brothel. Her mother, a black-haired beauty like Tamara, had been the favored prostitute of the establishment. Madame Keisha, the painted, red-haired woman who owned the pleasure hotel, had pulled the bloody, screaming Tamara from between the quivering legs of Lorraine, Tamara’s mother. It had been a cold winter night and the room was so frigid that a hazy mist steamed from Tamara’s wet body. Her balled-up fist struck out angrily at the world. Madame Kiesha placed the infant on her mother’s working bed, the very bed Tamara had been conceived on, and looked up at Lorraine, who was exhausted. It had been a hard and long labor. Madame Keisha expected both mother and child to die. She was still afraid that her most popular girl would. Her business would not be as prosperous without Lorraine. She had the beauty the clients only dreamed of having, but would pay highly to have, if only for the night. “It’s a girl,” Madame Keisha said, looking down at the squirming infant shivering in the cold. Little puffs of cool air blew out of her wailing blue lips. “She should have died,” Lorraine whispered weakly on her side. A tear ran down her sweaty, pasty face. “Who will marry a whore’s daughter? She will be a whore too. Like mother, like daughter,” Lorraine sobbed. Madame Keisha lifted the wiggling Tamara to her mother’s breast. Lorraine wished she could have feelings for the child. The child was from her body, but she just could not love her. She did not even know who the child’s pa was. He could be any of the foulsmelling rogues who frequented the establishment. The thought of the men who came to pleasure themselves on her made Lorraine sick. This child was a product of one of those encounters. Lorraine had hoped that maybe it had been one of the wealthier clients. Maybe even one of the young virgin boys whose daddy or older brother had treated them on a birthday. She was an expensive product. It was something to relax her mind for a moment. But there were the few scoundrels who, captivated by her beauty, spent a month’s salary just to pump her for a few moments of pleasure. The thought that one of these men could have fathered her child sickened her. The baby cried angrily, begging to be fed. Lorraine placed a hard nipple into the child’s mouth to stop the fury of the infant. She laid her head down upon her pillow, feeling her child feed from her and cried. Tamara grew up watching her mother with countless men. She always craved the love Lorraine seemed to give them and not her. Only when Tamara had been sick would Lorraine sit by Tamara’s small bed that was beside her mother’s and feed her soup, humming a tuneless hymn. When Tamara was seven, her mother was killed. She had told a favored customer that she was pregnant. The man was enraged and strangled Lorraine while Tamara slept peacefully beside them. Tamara never cried when Madame Keisha and two of the other girls who worked for her removed her mother’s limp corpse from the stained sheets of the bed. Madame Keisha pulled Tamara aside after her mother’s body had been taken away. “Tamara, your mother has left us, child. It is a great loss to my business. But she did have you and you will garner a great price. The beautiful daughter of Lorraine, even more beautiful than she, and still pure. You will be my greatest profit.” The heavily made-up woman spoke, her eyes visibly calculating the income that would come in with the price of Tamara’s virginity. “I will auction you off to the highest bidder. The gentlemen will bid high, very high for your young beauty and unspoiled body.” Tamara said nothing. She was aware of the virgin auctions. She had no intention of having the filthy creatures who groaned naked over her mother do the same to her. That very night when the brothel was packed with customers and laughter, Tamara slipped out of the establishment when everyone was too busy to notice. Madame Kiesha never saw her again. Tamara shook her head. That was a long time ago. She had survived. Sometimes by the very means she had run away from. Men seemed to desire her, wanted to possess her. Tamara just shrugged it off. They could have her body if she needed the money, but they would never possess her. Eventually, years later, she met Carter, Adam and Todd. They treated her like one of them. For the first time in her life, she felt she belonged to a family. Others joined the group. Some left, some stayed. Although there were the few boys who felt they could have Tamara, she had never allowed it. Not until Oliver showed up, so handsome and charming. She never minded lying in his arms. In fact, she loved the way he touched and caressed her. She glanced over at Jobeth and noticed her pallor. “What do you have against me, Tamara?” Jobeth breathed heavily, the back of her hand pressed against her moist mouth. “Nothin’.” Tamara stiffly turned away. Guilt kept surfacing in her conscience. She turned the ham, which had begun to release a delicious aroma. “Don’t lie, Tamara. You don’t like me. If you just got to know me, we could be friends.” It would be better for the two girls to be friends. When Jobeth’s monthly started, she would like a girlfriend to confide in about womanly woes. “We are living together. I just thought we might as well get along with each other instead of being at each other throats.” A cruel laugh escaped Tamara’s lips. Her anger had returned. She placed her hands on her rounded hips and spread her legs apart. “Hell, I don’t need to like you.” Her lips curved into a hateful grin. Black hair swept out behind her in defiance. Tamara was indeed an enchantress. One that Jobeth knew she would never be. Not that Jobeth was ugly. She had her own special qualities, but Tamara was a gorgeous creature. “If yah want to know why I don’t like yah, well, I’ll tell yah. Yah nearly fainted when I swore. Yah think you’re all high and mighty with your proper English. I bet yah even went to school.” Tamara was wild. She had seen Jobeth’s type before. Even though Jobeth was dressed worse than her, she knew her type: the type of girls who whispered and laughed about Tamara. The type of girls who called her names, names for people like her mother. Jobeth was like those girls and that was what attracted Oliver. Jobeth was no whore’s daughter. “You don’t belong with us! You ain’t one of us! Go back wherever you came from!” The ham started to burn unattended, giving off a charcoal smell. Smoke swirled up from the fire, mingling with Jobeth’s tears, blinding her vision. “No!” She shrieked with all the force she had. Shawna and Tamara both jumped in union. Shawna dropped the dolls she was playing with and ran over to Jobeth, trembling like a leaf. Jobeth bent down and hugged her tight to her swollen breast. “I cannot. We can’t ever go back. I am like you. I went to school when Mama and Pappy were alive. Yes, I liked it, but when they died and I went to live--” Jobeth stopped. Shawna was sobbing holding tightly to her waist. She took a deep breath and looked straight into Tamara’s surprised face. “I have not been to school since my parents died. That was a lifetime ago. I was another person. Please try and like me. I want us to be friends. I am not high and mighty-I am far from high and mighty. We can’t leave. We just can’t. And you will just have to live with that whether you want to or not.” Jobeth’s back felt naked as she stretched herself straight. Tamara would not defeat her. She would never be defeated by anyone again. She hugged Shawna defensively and began to whisper comforts into her ear. Shawna had become the little sister she never had. The little sister to replace the little brother she had lost. If only Tamara knew what had happened to them, to Jobeth. Maybe she would be more understanding. Maybe Tamara wouldn’t be so mean. Jobeth tightened her lips angrily. She would never tell anyone about the horrors of her recent past, especially Tamara. Tamara looked at Shawna whimpering and clutching Jobeth around the neck. She was astonished by Jobeth’s outburst and a little amused. Jobeth might have guts after all. “Stop crying, Shawna.” Tamara said softly. “I guess I can try to get along with your skinny old bones.” She began to turn the burning ham, avoiding the two clinging figures behind her. “I guess it ain’t your fault the way yah are. Just don’t get all mushy on me. I just can’t stand that.” “Thank you,” Jobeth swelled, smiling comfortingly to Shawna.

2009-02-13T06:31:00.001-08:00

— Chapter 4 — Jobeth and Shawna tracked up the dirt road, exhausted from a long day’s travel. Sweaty and covered with dust, they stopped to rest, collapsing at the side of the powdery brown road. Breathing heavily, Jobeth wiped her grimy brow and glanced at Shawna. The wee child lay on her back with her eyes closed, her chest rising evenly up and down. A small hand rested on her sooty forehead. Color had quickly come to Shawna’s pale cheeks during the four weeks they had been on the run. Traveling had transformed the little girl into a healthy five year old. Jobeth sighed with contentment. She was not regretting her decision to take Shawna with her. From the moment she had decided that the little girl was to be her responsibility, the child had become dearer and dearer to her. In the month they had traveled together, Jobeth came to realize that she needed Shawna as much as Shawna needed her. Time wandering in the wilderness had faded the bruises that blackened Jobeth’s body; but the bruises that surrounded her heart were still painful and tender to the touch. If she had not been responsible for Shawna, she would have given up a long time ago. When she was too exhausted to walk any farther, Shawna would look at her with such hope and admiration that Jobeth would rather die than disillusion her young charge. So she trudged on, dragging both weary feet forward, always wondering where they would sleep that night. Since they had escaped from Father James and Mother Tomalina, the girls slept in barns and fields--any place that was warm and dry. Miraculously, the second week out on the road to freedom, Jobeth stopped soiling herself at night. Although she still had the nightmares of her parent’s death, they were not as frequent as they had been at the home of the Johnston’s. Jobeth lay down beside Shawna and looked up into the blue sky. There was not a cloud to be seen and it amazed her again how quickly the sunny day could turn dark and cold. The weather was changing; winter was just around the corner and they would need permanent shelter from the elements during the days when the earth would be covered with snow. Once she thought she had found a place to stay for the winter. It was their third week traveling and they had come across a small shack that seemed to be abandoned. There was a small wood stove that could keep them warm through the cold days and nights ahead. It had seemed perfect for their immediate needs. Jobeth happily roasted a rabbit that was caught earlier that morning in a snare she made. Shawna sat by her feet cleaning some wild onions and the remainder of their carrots. Jobeth was telling Shawna another story about her family, how her Pappy taught her how to make traps and how to live off the land Shawna listened wide-eyed, envious of Jobeth because she had known her parents, whereas Shawna had not. Jobeth seemed to have endless stories about her rugged frontier father and the woman he fell in love with. She was listening intently to Jobeth’s tales when the door of the shack crashed open—both girls jumped up with a start. “Hey yah brats. Git outta ma house!” bellowed a burly bearded man dressed from head to toe in furs. Both girls leapt to their feet and clung to each other. The rabbit, forgotten, fell into the fire. Spitting juicy fat, it began to burn. Shawna whimpered, hiding behind Jobeth’s skirt. Shaken by the sight of the first person she had seen since running away, Jobeth nearly lost her legs. Bile rose in her throat and she prayed she would not vomit. “I says, git!” the fur-clad man roared, barreling toward them. Startled into action, Jobeth grabbed Shawna and their bag of meager belongings and quickly swung them around the man and out the door. The man grunted and bent to remove the burning rabbit from the stove. He ripped off a side of meat from the tender carcass and popped the flesh into his mouth, smiling. He was hungry and the meat tasted good. Jobeth continued to run with Shawna clinging to her tightly. She ran until her lungs screamed out in pain and the weight of the small child’s arms around her neck began to feel like a noose slowing her down. Finally Jobeth stopped and placed the sobbing girl down. Unable to control the churning of her belly, Jobeth turned from Shawna and let go of the yellow acidic contents of her stomach. She continued to dry heave, her insides contracting painfully, and wondered again how they would go on. Drops of sweat beaded on Jobeth’s forehead, and she absently wiped them away with a shaking hand. The world wavered before her. Dropping painfully to her knees, she closed her eyes, willing the dizziness and nausea to go away. Hiccupping, Shawna crawled on all fours up beside Jobeth. “Was, he going to kill us?” “No, no one will ever hurt us again.” Jobeth struggled to whisper and began to vomit the foul-tasting bile again. Jobeth breathed deeply of the autumn air, clearing her mind briefly. It had been over a week since they encountered the fur-clad man. The problem of where they would stay for winter was still unanswered. “Come on, Shawna. We best be on our way. We need to find a place to sleep tonight,” Jobeth said. Shawna had fallen into a light sleep. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Without a word of complaint, she stood up and dusted herself off. She sensed Jobeth was panicking, but did not say a word. Shawna had never been happier in her life. Jobeth showered love upon the lonely child, a love she had only experienced once before--with her sister, Donna. But even Donna’s love was shadowed by the coldness that enveloped the house of Mother Tomalina and Father James. To remember Donna was to remember how her sister died and the ugliness that shadowed their lives. So now she followed Jobeth, trusting and faithful. Now that she had experienced love and felt its healing power, Shawna could not live without it. They walked for what seemed like an hour when they saw a barn and a house up ahead. Most of the windows were broken and the place looked ready to fall down upon itself. “This looks like home for the night.” Jobeth sighed, exhausted. All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep an eternity of sleep. She had never felt so tired in her life. Slowly, they dragged their battered bodies up the rotten stairs in front of the house. Brown grass sprang through a hole in one of the steps, enticing an unsuspecting foot to break through. Jobeth grabbed Shawna under her arm to prevent her from going through the decayed step. “It’s scary.” Shawna spoke softly as Jobeth opened the door. It let out a painful thin squeal. She hesitantly put a foot forward, taking Shawna with her. The floor groaned in protest. Walking through the bitterly cold house, stale air assaulted their nostrils. Huge dark walls loomed before them, dwarfing the two girls. “It’s not eerie, Shawna. Why, look at these rooms! This was probably once a beautiful, rich home,” Jobeth said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. The truth was if the old dwelling had once been beautiful, it was a very long time ago. Shawna gulped and held fast to Jobeth’s hand. “I guess you’re right.” The tiny voice said hoarsely, her eyes wide with only a hint of the haunted girl in them. “Of course I’m right.” Jobeth said, trying to convince herself as she walked forward. They crept all over the house looking into spider-webbed rooms with broken floors and corners filled with mouse droppings. Finally, Jobeth opened the door to a small room that was fairly clean compared to the rest of the house. There were five dirty straw mattresses littering the floor. “This is home for the night.” Jobeth said, crawling onto the largest one. Shawna mouth clamped tight, looked behind her shoulder at the darkness beyond and quickly jumped in beside Jobeth. They cuddled close together. The mattress was soft and comfortable compared to the sleeping arrangements to which they had grown accustomed. Exhausted, Jobeth closed her eyes and tried not to think about the soft down bed she once slept in, in another life. It was best to erase the memory of her mother tucking bright, clean quilts around her--quilts she helped make. “Sweet dreams, Jobeth,” her mother’s soft voice would say as she blew out the lamp. “And remember, God is always watching over you. He is always there to protect you.” Jobeth would nod drowsily, feeling happy and content. She had no reason to disbelieve her mama. Life was filled with happiness and love. And life had always been that way. She sniffed. A single tear squeezed out from her closed eye. Where is God now, Mama? Jobeth screamed in her head. Why isn’t He protecting me anymore? Angry voices woke Jobeth from a deep, dreamless sleep. She fought to awake from the darkness that had swallowed her. Shawna was already awake and clinging to Jobeth for dear life. Her fingers dug into Jobeth’s arm like tiny needles, forcing her to come back from the darkness of her mind. “It’s all right, Shawna,” Jobeth put her arm around the trembling little girl. She was shaky and disoriented herself. Looking up toward the noise to see what or whom they were about to face, she felt fear. It had been so long since Jobeth had been in contact with people other than Shawna. They had avoided contact, as much as possible, with other people they saw on the road, hiding in bushes until it was safe. People hurt people, and they could hurt her and Shawna. A heavy feeling pressed down firmly on her chest. People could do worse: they could take Shawna from her, leaving her alone once more. That was something Jobeth would not let happen. No one would take Shawna from her. She looked up toward the screaming noises with hooded eyes, prepared to defend herself and her charge. Crowded around the mattress, like soldiers at a siege, stood six yelling boys and one shrieking girl. “They ain’t got no right in ma house!” caterwauled the girl with jet black, curly hair that frizzed out wildly around her face. Her eyes were like black rubies and seemed to be alive with fire. Her tattered brown dress fit her curvy shape snugly; her breasts heaved angrily, about to pop out of the extremely low-cut neck line. “Now Tamara, this just ain’t the way to act.” The boy receiving her fury fumed. He was an odd-looking boy who looked like he was about sixteen or seventeen years of age. He had sandy brown hair and a round, flat face with green cat-like eyes. He stood uncomfortably, gangly with his newly developed height, and stared back at the black-haired beauty. Jobeth felt numb. She wondered if she should grab Shawna and run. She felt so tired--she did not think she could outrun the group surrounding them. Another boy, with hair just as dark as the girl’s, noticed that the two terrified strangers were awake. Jobeth caught sight of him from the corner of her eyes and flinched back, holding Shawna protectively in her arms. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, ready to beat out onto the dirty floor at any moment. “Hello,” he said kindly, his deep blue eyes penetrating through Jobeth. Her breath escaped her for a moment. The boy was the most handsome person she had ever seen. Before she had time to compose herself, everyone else in the room was circling her and Shawna with questioning faces. “My name is Oliver,” he said, eyes twinkling. “And the two you just heard fighting over there are Tamara and Alan.” Oliver offered his scruffy hand slowly to Jobeth in a friendly manner. Shawna smiled hesitantly at Jobeth. She could not help herself. Oliver had already won her over with his handsome good looks and his charming smile. Jobeth twisted her lips as she watched the admiration in Shawna’s blushing face and was suddenly angry. Jumping up, she pulled Shawna with her. It didn’t matter how tired she was, she was not staying any longer in this house. Shawna frowned, confused by Jobeth’s hostility, and hid behind Jobeth’s legs. Jobeth immediately felt guilty and her anger slipped away as quickly as it had come. She cleared her throat and tried to decide whether to say something. “I am Jobeth and this is…” she pulled Shawna in front of her, almost defiantly, and glanced at the one called Tamara. At first she thought the black-haired girl was older than she was. But with a closer look, they seemed to be about the same age. “this is Shawna.” Tamara glared back with distaste. Shaken by the fiery female in front of her, Jobeth straightened her back. “We’ve been traveling for weeks,” she continued, looking around the room for a reaction. Everyone was quiet and seemed to be listening with interest, with the exception of Tamara, who had turned her back to them all. Her long black hair hung like a jungle of vines to her petite waist. Jobeth had never seen such hair before. She found it quite striking, even if she was taken aback by Tamara’s apparent resentment of her. “We thought the house was empty. We only planned to stay the night and leave in the morning.” Jobeth finished. She looked down on Shawna’s platinum head trying hard not to think of the situation they were in. Her eyes stung with fatigue and the fight in her was quickly escaping. “Well, yah see it ain’t empty,” Tamara hollered, turning around quickly, her hair flying madly about her. The boy, Alan, nudged her with his elbow, glaring at Tamara angrily. She looked back at him with as much venom. Jobeth and Shawna both jumped at Tamara’s outburst. Straightening her shoulders again, she looked directly at Tamara, whose chest was still heaving angrily. Jobeth felt like crying. She was so tired and felt so sick. Her limbs felt like dead weights hanging helplessly from her shoulders. She simply did not have the energy to battle this stranger. Her mouth began to water and Jobeth fought back the urge to gag. “I am terribly sorry if we have caused anyone any inconvenience. We’ll just be on our way.” Jobeth grasped Shawna’s hand and plunged forward, dragging her out of the tension-filled room. Her throat tightened and her eyes began to burn with tears. Every muscle in her body cried out for rest. She was defeated. It was late and too cold to sleep outside. “Now just hold on there, Jobeth,” a male voice interrupted. She stopped in her tracks. Saliva pooled in the inside of her mouth behind her bottom lip, but she didn’t dare to do a thing about it. The voice sounded like the odd-looking boy with the round face who had just argued with Tamara. What is his name? “Yes?” Jobeth asked. Her back still faced the voice. She squeezed Shawna’s hand hard feeling her wince in pain. Alan stared at the straight, thin back of the peculiar girl as she clutched tightly to the ghostly white child. His chest tightened at her stubborn refusal to turn and face him. He looked to Oliver, questioning him with a raised right eyebrow. Oliver nodded his head, giving Alan the answer he wanted. “Yah two are welcome to stay here.” Alan spoke quickly before the spooked girl ran out of the house with her little waif in tow. Jobeth closed her mouth and held her breath. She really did not want to stay, but she was so tired and --something she didn’t want to admit--she was lonely. The last person she had spoken to who was her own age was Judith. Judith was Jobeth’s best friend before her parents accident. She cried with Jobeth after her parents were killed. She also wept, her red pig-tailed head buried into Jobeth’s shoulder, before Jobeth was sent to live with her new foster parents. “I will never forget you, Jobeth,” Judith had pledged the day Jobeth left. They had clung together, two friends never to see each other again, their lives headed in opposite directions. Jobeth pulled away from Judith’s freckled, wet face and climbed into the wagon. Her belongings were packed neatly in a small chest in the back, secured with thick ropes. “I will never forget you either, Judith,” Jobeth promised as the horses pulled away from the sobbing girl. She waved frantically at Judith, but her friend, overcome with grief, ran away, her hands covering her face, unable to bear seeing her friend leave. She hadn’t thought of Judith since she entered the doors of the Johnston home. And she did not want to think of her now. Judith would be appalled to see what had become of Jobeth’s life. Suddenly Nick came to mind. The boy Jobeth had spoken with at Mother Tomalina and Father James’. He was tough and scarred from battles fought too young in life, but full of life and laughter regardless. Judith would have wrinkled her brown spotted nose at Nick. But Jobeth had rather liked him. She then thought of the ragged lot behind her. They were like Nick. She looked down at her thin, faded dress. She had given Shawna her tattered sweater to keep her warm. It hung down to Shawna’s knees, causing her to look lost in the stretched garment, but it at least kept the chill out, if only a little. Jobeth fingered the material of her dress. She would freeze with nothing but its flimsy cover. Judith would not be caught dead in a rag dress like the one Jobeth wore. She was like Nick now. She was like the people behind her: tough and scarred, ragged on the inside and out. No, I am still different, she thought. I am mostly dead inside. Only the darkness of dreamless sleep soothes my soul. “There ain’t no place for yah to go and we don’t mind the extra company at all. Plus, that there little one don’t look like she can go nowheres but bed.” Alan’s voice cut into Jobeth’s thoughts. He knew Jobeth was seriously weighing his offer. He refrained from mentioning that she looked as though she would drop in her own shoes at any moment. Finally, turning to the voice speaking to her, Jobeth surveyed Alan. He had strong, green, cat-like eyes. A strand of hair bobbed up and down on his forehead, giving Jobeth the feeling that Alan was a boy fighting in a man’s body. She looked away, blushing, feeling she had seen something private and personal about him. The other boys in the room were all smiling at her, trying to make her feel welcomed. Her eyes came to rest and widened on a child’s face that sat oddly on a young man’s body. He flashed Jobeth a wonderful, bright smile. She could not help staring, speechless. The boy’s skin was a deep, rich chocolate brown. Embarrassed by her rudeness, she turned her gaze quickly to the handsome raven-haired Oliver. “Stay, Jobeth. We’d all like you to stay.” Oliver walked over toward the hesitant girl and placed a warm hand on her bony shoulder. Jobeth instinctively pulled back, repulsed, but then relaxed as Oliver gently coaxed them back into the room by taking Shawna’s small hand. Unable to help themselves, they both followed Oliver shyly. Alan stood alone and held his breath. Anger began to burn in his chest. Oliver’s smooth talking had again worked its magic. Jobeth glanced back over her shoulder at Alan, who looked lost and awkward. His heart pounded heavily in his ribcage. This new girl was different. He could tell she wasn’t like them, even though she looked like it. She had come from better--a flower hidden in the weeds. He smiled awkwardly and blushed because it felt silly and forced. Jobeth grinned weakly back and turned away. Alan lowered his head, feeling like a fool. “Humph,” Tamara smirked, moving to stand beside Alan. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to compose himself. Tamara stood righteously with her arms tensely crossed over her large breasts. Her exposed cleavage bulged in Alan’s face. “What now, Tamara?” Alan steamed, looking away from her chest and back to Jobeth, who sat quietly listening to Oliver. “Seems Oliver found a new toy to play with, don’t it, Alan?” she asked, nastily pursing her red lips together. She cackled, noticing Alan’s red face and walked over to the other side of the room where Jonah, the black boy who had shocked Jobeth, sat. Tamara plunked down beside Jonah as graceful as a lump of clay and continued to smirk at Alan. His attention veered from Tamara, tired of her obnoxious ways, and went back to watching the new girl. Jobeth was putting Shawna back down on the mattress they had been sleeping on. Oliver was talking a mile a minute and Alan could not help noticing Jobeth shyly smiling back. His heart pounded painfully again. Absently, he reached up and rubbed at the pulsing muscle beneath his chest. His fingers moved up and down in rhythm to his heart. His fingers tingled warmly with the motion. Jobeth was the most unusual girl he had ever seen.

Chapter 2 & 3

2009-02-12T07:43:00.000-08:00

— Chapter 2 —
Puffy white clouds floated across the clear blue sky. It was harvest time and Jobeth was out in the field, picking corn with the other children. She threw a cob into a sack and wiped the freely flowing sweat from her brow. Her face was a mass of black and blue bruises After Father James raped her, he whipped her ruthlessly with the belt. Her entire body was covered with welts and she ached all over.
“I have to leave,” Jobeth said under her breath. “I cannot let him come back tomorrow.” Visions of the morning filled her mind. She shivered, feeling as though she were dipped in a pool of ice. The day was sweltering hot, but she felt cold. “No,” she said out loud, “I will not think about it.” She shook her swollen head back and forth. Pressure formed in the front of her skull. The ground swirled before her eyes and she felt faint. Jobeth closed her eyes and sat on the ground until the dizziness passed, her fingers raking the gritty dirt beneath her. “Oh God!” she sobbed, clutching her arms. Tears fell uncontrollably as her nails dug into her already bruised skin. Droplets of blood pooled around her fingers, but she did not feel it. “Jobeth?” A tiny voice broke through Jobeth’s tears. She wiped grimy tears away with her fist and looked up into a small, pale, porcelain face. Shawna had lived with the Johnstons since she was eight months old Her long platinum blond hair fell limply in her face. Her steel blue eyes stood out strikingly against her unearthly pale skin. She would have been a beautiful child if she had not been so sickly pale and if dark circles did not shadow her haunted blue eyes. Jobeth slowly stood up, embarrassed to be caught crying, and dusted her dress off. “Yes, Shawna?” She sniffed trying to compose herself. She had purposely gone deep into the fields to be away from the other children. The thought of anyone seeing her after what happened with Father James appalled her. Surely they could tell she was defiled. She looked down at the tiny girl. Shawna was so small for her five years that it was easy not to have seen her. “Are yah okay?” Shawna questioned, and blushed, looking at her scruffy shoes.“Yes.” Jobeth lied “Yes.” “You look like yah got it bad.” Shawna continued. “What?” Jobeth uttered too loudly. Her head snapped toward the puny girl. What if Shawna could tell what had happened to her? Did she look soiled now? She surely felt dirty and polluted. Jobeth cleared her throat and ignored the images forming in her mind. No one could know what happened in that room. No one. “Sorry,” Shawna jumped back frightened, “Your face,” she shuddered. “He must ‘ave beat yah badly.” Jobeth’s hand fluttered to her swollen face. “I’m all right,” she said, feeling guilty. The child was as nervous as a newborn colt. She remembered when one of Pappy’s mares had given birth to a chestnut colored colt. She had gone to pet its damp nose and it had bolted from her outstretched hand with a comical leap into the air. Shawna reminded Jobeth of that colt. High-strung and skittish, ready to leap into the air at the slightest movement toward her. It had never occurred to Jobeth before that maybe the neglect she was experiencing could be happening to the child before her. A sinking sensation crawled up her neck and into her face, making her cheeks tingle. “Shawna,” Jobeth said wiping her nose again, “I have to go to the outhouse. So if anyone asks where I am, tell them that, all right?” She had squatted down to the miniature girl’s level. Shawna lifted her frail face up to Jobeth and fought back tears welling in her enormous eyes. Please. Jobeth yelled in her mind. Do not let me think of you. I have to leave. I cannot worry about you.“You know Mother and Father don’t like it when we go to the outhouse during work.” Shawna wavered. A large drop of salty water formed in the corner of her eye. “I know, but I have to go badly,” Jobeth tried to ignore the tear. She would not feel responsible for a child she hardly knew. During the time Jobeth had come to live at the home, she had hardly seen Shawna. Only in the fields and the odd times at the dreadful kitchen table. There, Jobeth and the other children would eat the same watery soup and dry bread every mealtime. Sometimes if they were lucky, they would be rewarded with a little butter and the odd glass of milk from one of the many cows that the Johnstons owned. Jobeth’ s mouth always watered at the smells of roast beef and other dishes Mother Tomalina prepared for Father James. More than once at the supper table as she stared at their savory foods and ate her soup, she envisioned ways to snatch a leg of lamb or chicken, but was always too frightened of the ever-watchful Mother Tomalina. Maybe at night when everyone slept she would creep up the cellar stairs and steal quietly into the icebox and satisfy the constant hunger that plagued the pit of her stomach But alas, when evening came and everyone slept, Jobeth lay trembling under her gray sheets, picturing the old woman patrolling the icebox with its contents of leftovers. Shawna looked up at Jobeth beseechingly. It struck her that the child never played. This she knew because Shawna was always working. “Look, Shawna, I have to go. If I don’t go then I will wet myself and soil my clothes. I will be whipped again and I do not need another beating,” Jobeth pleaded. This was her chance, her only chance to leave. Mother Tomalina would not be expecting to see Jobeth until the sun was down. If Jobeth left now she would not be missed for hours. This would put plenty of distance between her and the dreaded house. “Okay.” Shawna said, head bent low, turning around slowly. Her little frame looked as though it would blow away like the frail dress whipping angrily around her. Faded and worn, her bony structure was visible through the thin material as it struggled to pull away. Jobeth took a deep breath, wincing at the pain she felt throughout her entire body. She turned and hurried toward the outhouse. Shawna could be watching. She must not give herself away by going in another direction. She picked up her ratty sweater, half-eaten by moths and tied it around her scrawny waist. She had become increasingly thin living with the Johnstons and the sleeves of the sweater hung limply between her legs, nearly reaching her knees, knees that a couple of hours ago were viciously torn apart to amuse Father James She closed her eyes tight, erasing the images of the morning threatening to play themselves out again in her mind. Run. If she ran she would escape what happened in the dank cellar. Her feet began to move. The sleeves of her sweater twisted between her legs as the sack dragged behind her. She quickly grabbed corn, rhubarb and other vegetables growing in the field and tossed them into the bag. Her chest heaved painfully from the effort and her heart beat frantically for what she was about to do. “I can’t get caught,” Jobeth sobbed. The memory of Father James’ “purple snake,” as hard as a rock, forcing into her, ripping her, humiliating her, flashed before Jobeth’s eyes. She rubbed away tears streaming down her grubby face with the palm of her hand.“I need a bath. Oh God how I need a bath! I have to get his smell off me! How will I ever get his smell off me? “ Jobeth stopped in her tracks, her chest heaving up and down and clutched her hands to her mouth. “What has happened to me? What has happened to my life? Things used to be so simple.” Jobeth sobbed out loud, her tears streaming freely. She felt her heart would break. “Why did you die Mama, Pappy? Why? How could you do this to me?” She moaned. A grimy strand of hair went into her wet eyes and she absently pushed it behind her ear. The wheat in the fields swayed in the wind, making rustling noises that startled Jobeth. “What am I doing standing here like a fool crying? I have to look out for myself now. There is no one for me anymore. I am alone.” She stood up and breathed deeply. The autumn air felt crisp as it went into her lungs clearing them of the heaviness surrounding her heart. Jobeth felt light-headed as she looked beyond the rows of wheat. Later, She would have to reflect on everything. Right now she needed to get herself far away from the Johnstons.She began to run. Jobeth wrinkled her nose as she reached the rat-infested outhouse. She thought of entering the rotting structure with its cold, splintery seats and decided against it. The smell inside was putrid and she already felt nauseated from the fumes emanating from the open door. If she needed to use the lavatories, she would just go outside. At one time in her life, the thought of relieving herself in public was mortifying, but many things had changed since those days. Jobeth never had to worry about being bitten by rats in her old water closet. Mama and she would always scrub the privy regularly, dousing it with lye. Using the outdoors as a washroom seemed more civilized than the dangerous, infectious outhouse that stood before her now. “I will never have anything to do with this place again,” she said, staring up at the house. She crouched down behind the tall grass. It was not really a nice house. It slanted to the right. The original builder of the house, Mother Tomalina’s father, had not been very bright and built it in the winter on frozen ground, so every year during spring, the house shifted and sunk down more to the right. Soon it would sink right through to the bottom of the earth, straight to hell where it belonged. The roof was falling apart and would not be fixed until the cold came and Father James sent one of the young boys up to patch it. Mother Tomalina was sitting in her usual spot at that time of day, rocking in a stiff old rocking chair given to her by one of the villagers. “To rock the waifs in,” The elderly haired woman who had donated the chair had commented. There was never a waif rocked in that chair or a child who wanted to be held in Mother Tomalina’s flabby arms. She always sat like an angel, how she wanted others to see her, but really she was a demon, smirking and rocking at the passing neighbors, looking quite saintly, as she selfrighteously perceived herself to be. “That kind, elderly lady,” the ladies of the town would say, while waving at Mother Tomalina as she sat rocking and knitting away. Mother Tomalina would wave back, giving her best sanctified smile and continue to knit. “It is too bad about her husband, always in town with heathen women,” one would say. “Didn’t one of those orphaned girls they took in turn to wicked ways?” the other would say. “I hear tell Mr. James takes a real liking to her. What a shame for poor Mrs. Johnston. She works so hard to give those children a real home.” They would shake their heads sadly. “To think one of the strays she took under her wing would betray her with her own husband. Two heartbreaks: turning against God and selling herself with the only man known to her as Pa. It is disgraceful.” As soon as they were out of sight of the rocking chair, they would shake their heads and carry on their way forgetting about poor Mrs. Johnston and her wild husband. Jobeth had seen it before in the store when she had been sent to fetch supplies. The whispers passed from one bonneted lady to the other. She saw the distrustful sneers when a lady walked by with her husband. A protective grasp to their man’s arm, as though a mere look from Jobeth would cause their husbands to stray. She had always felt confused by their response. She knew she wasn’t as tidy as she had been before her parents’ death, but Mother Tomalina refused for other people to see the children in her charge dressed in their usual attire. There was a special dress for the older girls and a pair of slacks and shirt for the older boys for such trips into town. Only one boy and one girl could ever be seen in town together, because there was no other outfit for the rest to wear. Jobeth, who was used to being treated as one of the respected children in town, was now thought of as white trash and shunned by the townspeople. Not used to this treatment, she sometimes forgot herself and would start a conversation with a girl around her age, only to have a protective mother herd her daughter away from the ragamuffin child. Jobeth’s ego would be bruised and she would be brought back to the reality of where she was. The girl she had once been, the one with a mother and father and a younger brother, was dead. Just like her parents. Just like her brother. They might as well have all died together. Had she provoked Father James to do what he had done to her? She shook her head and cleared the impression forming again in her mind and turned from the sight of Mother Tomalina’s portrait of a wronged woman. Her eyes searched the expansive area. She spotted Father James in the barn with Dex, a ten-yearold boy who had just come to live at the Johnston’s. Jobeth’s heart once more began to pound uncontrollably. Her breath came in quick sharp thrusts and she realized that she was nearly panting. She looked at Dex and remembered something one of the older boys had once told her. When a boy turned fourteen, Father James would make him pay for his bed to sleep in and the food he ate. Jobeth had asked if any boy had worked for his bed and measly dinner and the boy had said he’d be fourteen soon and would be gone before he would pay for poorly flavored water and a bug-ridden bed. Jobeth had laughed. The boy, Nick, was nice and she enjoyed having him to talk to. She had been so lonely since her parents had died. “What about girls, Nick?” Jobeth had asked once in the barn. They had been sent to milk the cow and she stood behind Nick’s bent back as he finished squirting milk into a tin bucket. He stood up and faced Jobeth. She was already fourteen so she knew girls did not have to pay for their keep, even though Jobeth felt that the backbreaking work she did in the fields was payment enough. Nick’s expression had become dark and he had turned away. “Nick?” Jobeth asked the dark-haired youth. “What about the girls, do they pay?” Jobeth did not like the way he clammed up. Nick, a rambunctious youth with a glimmer in his smile, was a boy who seldom kept a word to himself. He turned to Jobeth, his bangs hiding his brown eyes. “They pay, Jobeth. They pay dearly.” “What is that supposed to mean?” Jobeth responded. Her heart skipped a beat for no apparent reason. She suddenly felt like a trapped rabbit. Did she really want to know what he meant? “They pay with their souls, Jobeth, they all pay with their souls. Leave before yours is taken too.” He turned and scooped up his bucket of milk, not saying a word to her. What he said left her surprised, confused, speechless and very afraid. Shortly after they talked, Nick disappeared. The day before he left, he asked Jobeth to leave with him. She shook her head, afraid. How would she survive out in the world? Now she wished she had left with Nick. Anything would have been better than the ordeal she had endured that morning. Now she would have to leave on her own. Maybe she could find Nick? Then she wouldn’t be alone. But would Nick want to be with her if he knew what Father James had done? Jobeth rubbed her arms roughly. They ached not only from her beating but also for someone to comfort her and make everything all right. She was so alone. So terribly alone. Little Shawna’s face popped into her mind. Small and pale and so very young. It dawned on Jobeth that once she was gone, Shawna would be the only girl left. She shivered thinking of the small, frail girl. Again she steadied her head, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts. She could not think about anyone or anything but herself and the urgency of leaving. Jobeth turned to depart. She had seen enough; there were no second thoughts. She did not want to think what lay ahead; she just wanted to get as far away as possible. She swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk swiftly away from the house. She didn’t notice the small figure materialize before her, until it was too late and she collided with Shawna. Both girls tumbled to the ground. Dust flew high above them and fell slowly, like a baby’s blanket coming to rest on top of the fallen girls. “What are you doing here?” Jobeth sat up, trying to shake the fear that had jumped up into her throat. The thought that she had been caught would not leave her. She stood up and started dusting herself off with her hands. Shawna mimicked Jobeth, dusting herself off and copying her movements, step by step. She looked up at the older girl, embarrassed, clumsily trying to hide a bulging burlap bag behind her back. The small child knew she had frightened Jobeth terribly and she felt awful about this. “Are you leaving?” Shawna whispered as Jobeth’s face drained of blood. This cannot be happening, Jobeth thought. She glared up at the angry sun that was determined to bake them alive. “Please,” Shawna begged with desperation, her hands clasped together in prayer, “take me too?” Jobeth looked pale beneath her bruised face, but she was listening. Shawna struggled to raise the sack she held behind her back. “I won’t be a bother, I got food so yah won’t have to share. I don’t eat much so yah could have most of my food too. Please take me too. I is begging yah.” A tear slid from her bleached blue eyes and Jobeth could see something haunted, something she did not want to see. Closing her own weary lids, she tried to block out the little girl’s pitiful face. “Shawna, I can’t,” Jobeth clenched her teeth. She felt awful and her lips began to quiver as she pleaded with this child she barely knew. Shawna was trembling, ready to erupt into tears. “Can’t you see you would hold me back? They would search for you. They have had you for so long.” “Noo,” she whimpered, tears rolling freely down her ashen face. Her little hands went up to rub quickly swelling eyes and her lips protruded in a pout. “You don’t know. I’ll grow up and be a big girl and, and . . . he’ll do it to me too, when I’m big like you. I can’t stay cause I’ll end up like the other big girls.” “What other big girls?” Jobeth grasped Shawna’s arm ignoring the child’s astonished face. Tall grass swayed on either side of them and she quickly pulled her and Shawna into the safety of it. Time was already ticking against her. If anyone saw the two girls standing and talking to one another, it would be all over for them and Father James would be back to hurt Jobeth. “What other girls, Shawna?” Jobeth implored, unable to stop herself from shaking the child by the shoulders. If there were other girls, what had happened to them? Jobeth was suddenly desperate to know. Nick had said girls paid with their souls. Did he mean what Father James had done to her? Had Father James done the same thing to other girls? “The other girls who left.” Shawna choked, her head shaking back and forth on her shoulders. Jobeth’s eyes were darting frantically in their sockets, causing Shawna to become frightened. Her reaction reminded Shawna of a trapped doe with starving wolves surrounding it, trying in vain to escape to freedom.“They weren’t ever found, Jobeth, except that one gal. But she wasn’t really found--she just went to town and became . . . “ Shawna looked around to see if anyone else was listening. Seeing there was no one in sight, she cupped her hands to her mouth and whispered, “a whore.” Jobeth pulled back from Shawna gasping and looked at her disapprovingly. Her hand raked through her greasy hair as she absently pulled it away from her tense face. Could the stories be true about the prostitute who had once lived at the Johnston home? Father James’ favorite? Is this the girl the town talked about?Their souls? Nick’s words echoed in Jobeth’s ear. A cold finger rippled up her spine and goose bumps began to rise on her arms. She rubbed them harshly with the palm of her hands.“But the other girls weren’t found, they won’t find us either. Mother and Father never search for runaways long. Only for what looks good in town. When the town folk say its just another ungrateful foundling, Mother and Father stop looking and get another child. It’s the truth.” Shawna bent to look at Jobeth eagerly. “What other girls?” Jobeth asked sternly, looking beyond Shawna.“My sister.” Shawna became a grisly white and the shadows under her eyes darkened. She bowed and stared at her worn shoes. “You have a sister?” Jobeth was surprised. As far as she knew, they were the only girls at the Johnston’s home. “I had me a sister. Her name was Donna. Ain’t that a pretty name?” She smiled as she looked up. Jobeth forced her lips to smile back. The child was beautiful when she smiled, even with her ailing waxen color. “Yes it is very pretty.” “When I have me a baby girl one day, I’m naming her Donna,” Shawna said in a faraway voice. Jobeth stood impatiently waiting for Shawna to continue. “Donna said our real folks loved us. I don’t ‘member the folks cause I was just a babe in nappies, but Donna ‘membered, that being she was eight when our folks up and died of the fever. They took Donna and me away. Our folks were scared we’d get it. That’s what Donna told me. I wish I had known them,” Shawna said longingly picturing parents she never knew. “We was sent here after they died. First nothing real bad happened. Just always working lots, like now. But then Father started doing his thing with Donna. Just like he done with Melodie. Touching her in places he ain’t suppose too. Melodie said she was running away and Donna better get me and her out fast before he come after us. I was just four and so scared.” A tear started to fall down her white cheek leaving a dirty trail behind and her eyes became vacant. “Donna always said, Don’t worry, Pun. I’ll never let nothing happen to you.’ “Melodie was fourteen and Donna was twelve when Melodie ran away in the night. Don’t know what happened to her. Time passed and Father kept looking at Donna funny and touching her. Donna kept saying, ‘Just a little longer, Pun, and I’ll have enough money for us to run away. I don’t want us to starve.’” I knew where she was gettin’ the money. Stealing from peoples’ pockets in town. Could have had her hands chopped off if they’d caught her.”Jobeth sighed and placed a grubby hand to her head, wondering where the girl got such an idea into her head. “Don’t think Donna was bad stealin’, “ Shawna defended her sister, pointing a chicken bone of a finger at Jobeth. “I don’t, Shawna. I don’t. She was just thinking how you both were going to survive.” Jobeth had not even thought of money. How was she going to survive? A scream started to build in bottom of Jobeth stomach. How was she going to do this? “One morning,” Shawna continued, more tears falling down her cheeks, “he came into our room wanting more than just touching. Donna told me to hide when he comes burstin’ into the room. I did, ‘cause I always listen to Donna. She was smart and took care of me. Well, he tore her up bad down there where yah pee. She was bleeding all over. I watched the whole thing while peeking from under the bed. He just kept pushing on her. She screamed and screamed, but he don’t listen. No one here listens to screams. I wanted to go help her, but Donna looked over at me and shook her head. She whispered for me to stay under the bed. I knew she was afraid he’d come after me next if he knew I was there. So I stayed under the bed and watched.” Jobeth felt sick. Images of Father James on top of her, hurting her… Jobeth clutched her head in her hands and squeezed tightly, holding on for dear life, her dirty hair poking out of her fingers. No. She wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t relive it. It was best to forget and never think it happened. Shawna sniffed and rubbed her runny nose with the back of her sleeve, her mind recalling the day her sister had been raped. “When he left, I crawled out from under the bed. Donna was bleeding and crying. She didn’t look herself at all. She was all white and her lips were blue. Her teeth kept on chattering together and her body kept jerking. ”’Donna let’s go away from here now,’ I begged her. I ran to our bed and grabbed the blankets on top. She seemed to be real cold, so I put them over her. She looked up at me all glassy-eyed and told me to be brave, and not to be afraid anymore. She told me to get away from here before I got to be a big girl. “‘The money’s in the mattress take it, promise me?’ Donna said, grabbin’ my hand. “‘I will Donna. It’s our money when we run away.’ I say to her, cryin’. Donna’s eyes were open, but they seemed really scary lookin’. Just kept staring at the ceiling. She wouldn’t blink or anything. I begged her to stop foolin’, but she never moved. “I stayed with her a long time, till Mother came yelling at us to get to work. She saw me shaking Donna and stopped yelling. She just ran over and put a hand on her chest. “’Git out of here! Out!’ she hollered. I didn’t know what to do. “’What’s wrong with Donna?’ I asked her. “’She’s dead’ Mother said as if it were nothing.” Jobeth’s throat started to close up and she could not breathe. She knew only too well the pain and loss that Shawna felt. “I said to her, ‘No. Donna ain’t dead. She ain’t. We’re running away from you and Father so he can’t hurt Donna no more.’ “Mother got real angry and grabbed my arm, twistin’ it till it hurt. “’You listen to me if you don’t want to end up like your whoring sister. Donna had a high fever she couldn’t break, and that’s what killed her.’ “’It was Father’s pushing on her that kilt her.’ I yelled. ”He tore her all up and she couldn’t stop bleeding.’ Mother got so mad she done slapped me real hard across the face. “’Those are lies.’ Mother starts yelling. I ain’t never seen Mother so mad before, and I seen her plenty mad. “’You listen here, you little devil. I’ll kill you myself if I hear those foul words from your filthy mouth again. Now get out.’ “I ran out of my room and hid in the barn. When it went night, I figured it would be best I get back to the house before it got too late and I got whipped for being out past the dark time. Donna was gone. I never saw her again. I asked Mother where she was at, and she said that she was in hell where she belonged and not to worry, I’d be there soon to help her shovel coal for the devil.” Shawna looked up at Jobeth, cheeks all streaked with tears and dirt. A small fist rubbed viciously across her puny red nose as she sniffled.Jobeth suddenly realized the reason why this little shell of a girl was just that, a shell. The horror Shawna had faced at such a young age had robbed the child of everything. The pain on her babyish face weakened Jobeth’s already broken heart. She ached all over from her brutal rape and the new responsibility of this defeated child before her.She could not leave Shawna. If she did, she would never be able to live with herself. The girl would come with her. How she would care for her, Jobeth did not know. But if she left Shawna, she would be as dark and monstrous as Father James and Mother Tomalina. She would never be that cruel to anyone, never. “How will we survive? I have never been on my own,” she whispered staring across the yellow fields. A gust of wind tugged at Jobeth’s insufficient dress, matting her sweaty, sticky hair. “I still have the money,” Shawna disclosed softly. Jobeth bent her head down to Shawna’s hopeful face. She continued, seeing Jobeth’s interest. “I saved it for when I’d run.” She bit her bottom lip, making it paler, and looked at Jobeth under light eyelashes, “I even stole some from Father. He thought it was one of the older boys and beat him real bad.” She returned her gaze to her battered shoes, shamefully. Jobeth said nothing. Shawna’s lips clasped tightly and stubbornly, together, “I had to. I’m not bad. An I ain’t going to go to hell neither. I don’t give a dickens what Mother says. Donna ain’t in hell, she’s in heaven with Mama and Papa and when the Lord calls for me I’s guess that’s where I’ll be headed too.” Jobeth placed a hand on the little girl’s bony shoulder. Shawna tilted her wet face up to face of the young woman standing tall and stiff. She began to shiver from the look in Jobeth’s eyes and her lips began to tremble uncontrollably. “You are not bad, Shawna, and no one will ever make you feel that way again.” She whispered, “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Shawna released her breath and smiled. She didn’t realize she had been holding it.
— Chapter 3 —
Jobeth and Shawna ran with their skirts billowing out behind them and their hands held tightly together. They were afraid to look back. Shawna kept up the best she could with Jobeth, but Jobeth was possessed to run as far as possible from Mother Tomalina and Father James. She would not stop even when her face was beet red under her bruises. Shawna was exhausted but afraid to ask Jobeth to slow down for fear she would be sent back to the Johnstons. She knew Jobeth had not wanted to bring her. There was no where Shawna wanted to be other than with the strong girl running beside her. She never wanted to return from where she came. Never. Exhausted, Jobeth stopped and stumbled to her knees, dragging an equally exhausted Shawna to her own shins. They were both heaving heavily. Shawna felt her lungs would collapse. “Look.” Jobeth panted pointing straight ahead of them. The little girl squinted but could not see anything. Her eyes were blurry from running in the wind. “What is it?” Shawna panted, unable to catch her breath. She spit out a stream of saliva.“It’s . . . it’s a pond.” Jobeth began to laugh oddly. She started to get up. Wiping her sweaty brow with the crook of her arm, Jobeth reached down and grasped Shawna’s twig-like arm, lifting the confused child to her feet. She was almost exuberant over finding a pond. Shawna could not understand this joy as she had never known the need to be clean, having spent most of her five years barely bathing. Kicking off her ill-fitting shoes, Jobeth walked straight to the stream and bent first to drink the cool water. Shawna followed. Surprised at how thirsty they were, they greedily gulped water from the pond. “Have you ever tasted water so good, Shawna?” Jobeth spouted between gulps. She cupped her hands together and took another large gulp of water, savoring each drop as it passed her lips. The excess was permitting to dribble down her chin. “Cain’t say as I has.” Shawna replied. Jobeth turned and smiled at the clean circle around Shawna’s lips. Was that color she saw in the child’s face? “You know, Shawna, it is not proper English to use words like ‘cain’t’. It is, ‘I cannot say that I have.’” Jobeth said sternly. If she was going to be responsible for the young girl, she was not going to have her sounding like an uneducated hick. Shawna lips dropped into a frown. Her dirty face was streaked with water. “I’s sorry.” Shawna whispered, feeling ashamed. She had already offended Jobeth right when she seemed so happy to find this pond. Shawna looked down at her clean, moist palms. Red lines and calluses from long days of working in the fields glared up at her. She was no good. Jobeth would leave her behind. A painful lump began to push its way into her throat, bringing with it pesky, salty tears to fill her eyes. Shawna bit her lip and desperately tried to hold back from crying. Jobeth felt the heat rise to her cheeks, realizing she had crushed Shawna’s tender feelings. She felt awful--like a bully. Couldn’t she have just let her enjoy the water, instead of criticizing? . “No need,” Jobeth corrected herself, placing a hand on Shawna’s shoulder, “You will learn soon enough. Probably very quickly. You seem quite intelligent. You just need proper guidance. You have never been taught. In fact, when Pauli-my little brother--was five, he did not have quite the understanding you do. So there is nothing to be upset about.” She gave Shawna the best smile she could muster. Shawna sighed with relief. Jobeth thought she was intelligent. She was not sure what the word meant, but it was obvious it was a word that pleased the older girl. The pale child grinned back at Jobeth, her hurt feelings forgotten. Jobeth stood up and reached for Shawna. “Let’s go swimming and see what is under all this dirt.” “I ain’t never swam before.” Shawna stiffened. Jobeth was going to be hard to please. “No need to worry, I will show you. But today we don’t have time. We’ll just clean off,” Jobeth said while holding back the urge to correct Shawna’s speech again. She walked into the water. Shawna stood on the shore, hesitant to follow. The water felt cool and refreshing. Jobeth sank down to her knees, her dress ballooning around her. She giggled out loud and encouraged Shawna to kneel down too. It felt good to laugh again. Jobeth couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed or felt good. “Take the sand from the bottom of the pond and rub it on your skin.” Jobeth grabbed at the cool, grainy floor and started rubbing sand roughly on her neck and arms. She sighed and dunked her head back into the water. The water tickled her ears and she felt herself relaxing just a bit. “My Pappy used to say if you don’t have soap and a tub, a pond and sand will do the job just the same.”“Will it clean your hair?” Shawna asked rubbing sand on her arms, amazed that it worked. She looked up at Jobeth for an answer. Shawna always liked how nice her hair felt after being washed. So soft and fresh.“I don’t know. I guess we could try it.” Jobeth grabbed a large handful of the muddy substance and plopped it on Shawna’s head. She squealed with delight and mashed the sand into her hair. Jobeth laughed and grabbed another handful, plopping it on her own head and grinding it into her scalp. Both girls began to laugh and splash each other as though they had always known each other. Warmth encased Jobeth’s tattered body. Covered in sand, she scoured harder on her arms, legs, chest and stomach. She wanted to rub sand between her legs to wash away the filth Father James had put there, but thought against it. She was already very sore down below. Shawna, delighted, closed her eyes and splashed the water with her tiny hands, sending beaded droplets up into the air. Jobeth, seeing her chance, quickly and gently rubbed her swollen genitals with her fingers, until she was clean. She did not feel clean, but at least the proof that James had been there was gone. “We better rinse off.” The thought of Father James sobering her. How she longed to stay in that pond. But that was impossible. They had come far that day but not far enough. “All right.” Shawna splashed water over her muddy arms. “I’ll just dive under water and get the sand out of my hair and then I will help you with yours.” In an instant Jobeth was down beneath the surface of the now murky water. When she resurfaced, she was still black and blue, but at least she was clean. She helped Shawna rinse her hair and they both got out of the pond and sat on the grass to dry off. “We should eat something to keep up our strength,” Jobeth said, combing the tangles out of Shawna’s clean hair with her fingers. Shawna, who had never experienced loving hands brush her hair, basked in the glory of her newfound attention. This day would be etched in her memory forever. In all her five years this was the happiest she’d ever felt. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as Jobeth continued to detangle her hair. She had been secretly thinking of eating too, but was afraid of ruining the wonderful time and didn’t dare to ask. What if Jobeth felt she was too much of a bother, or ate too much? Maybe she would not want to keep Shawna with her. So she kept quiet. A hungry belly she could deal with. But in just the short time she had spent with Jobeth, she knew she could never be without her. “We will eat one carrot each and a raw cob of corn. Maybe tomorrow we will find something else to eat.” Jobeth stood up and went back to the pond where their sack had been left on the shore. She grabbed two large carrots and cleaned them in the pond. A light breeze caused her damp dress to cling. Walking quickly, Jobeth fretted about where they should go. She could not think of anywhere in particular. Suddenly, she remembered something her father had said to her not too long ago. They were out in the buggy looking at a fence that needed mending. Jobeth went with her Pappy because she enjoyed the ride and his conversation. She always felt so peaceful sitting beside the father she loved so dearly. The sun began to fall behind the horizon. Pauli had been standing behind them telling tales of fighting pirates, dragons and wizards. Jobeth laughed as Pappy declared that Pauli had the greatest imagination he had ever heard. “Oh Pappy, it’s all just playing,” Pauli said, not sure if having an imagination was a good thing or a bad thing. “Look children,” Pappy said, slowing the buggy to a stop. The horses stomped their feet in protest and snorted in disapproval. Jobeth and Pauli looked where their father pointed and saw the reddish yellow of the sun slowly burning out beyond the valley. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there, I put my sights toward the sun and let my feet carry me home.” Pappy said in a faraway voice. “You talking about the old days again, Pa?“ Pauli asked while leaning over his shoulder, his eyes transfixed by the fiery sun.“Remember that hymn we sing in church?” Pappy asked as he turned to Jobeth. She looked at him solemnly. “How does it go again? Oh yes. ‘I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now I see…’’ Pappy stared at Jobeth making her feel that the moment was very important: something she should remember. “Yes, Pappy, I remember it. It’s Amazing Grace.” Jobeth answered, gazing at the horizon. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there, I put my sights toward the sun and let my feet carry me home. I once was lost but now am found. Was blind but now I see.” Pappy’s eyes were kind and warm, as his words were softly embedded in his daughter’s heart. They sat silently for a few moments. Pauli mouthed the phrases his father had just spoken. He looked in frustration at his father and sister. “Pappy, I don’t get it. What does it mean?” “Well, it brought me to your mother.” Pappy turned around and messed with Pauli’s hair. “But Mama didn’t find you, Pappy. I still don’t get it,” Pauli said, shooing his father’s hand away. Michael Roberts looked back at Jobeth and gently took her hand in his. It felt warm and safe. “One day you will understand. It is not for me to explain it for you,” Pappy answered, still looking at Jobeth. She had the strangest feeling he was speaking only to her and not her brother. “I still don’t get it,” Pauli said, tossing a piece of grass out of the wagon. Pappy nickered to the horses and turned toward home, humming the tune of Amazing Grace. Jobeth felt it was strange that she would remember that evening. Did Pappy know that he would not be around for her when she needed his advice the most? Was Pauli never to understand that night because he would never need to? Jobeth watched the dying embers of the sun in the horizon. Night, with all its darkness, would come very quickly. “When I had no place to go and was in no hurry to get there,” Jobeth said to herself, “But I am in a hurry Pappy, I am in a really big hurry.” She clutched Shawna’s hand and began to walk toward the sun, singing Amazing Grace softly to herself.
Night quickly rolled in, casting eerie shadows on the browning grass of fall. Shawna trembled from the chilling breeze and from the scary shapes hovering in front of them. She squeezed Jobeth’s hand tighter and looked up at her face. Was she scared also? Noticing the large, frightened eyes searching her own, Jobeth smiled uneasily at the spooked child.
They will know we are missing now , Jobeth thought. I wonder how far we have gone. I wonder if it is far enough? She looked down at the exhausted urchin. She looked as though she would fall asleep standing up. They had not even eaten supper yet. The poor child was probably starving.
Jobeth felt ashamed again.She was going to have to start thinking about her young charge. As much as Shawna wanted Jobeth to believe she was capable of watching out for herself, she was still only five years old. “We won’t travel tonight,” Jobeth said aloud with regret. “We need all the rest we can get so that we can travel farther during the day.” She wondered just where they would sleep for the evening. It all seemed so simple when she decided to leave. Only the drive to escape Father James had occupied her thoughts. Now she was dragging a five-year-old child into her mess. Jobeth tried to read Shawna’s huge eyes. What lurked behind those hollow dark sockets? She shivered unconsciously. “Jobeth?” Shawna whispered apprehensively. “Are we’s going to sleep outside in the night?” “Of course, Shawna. Where else would we sleep?” Jobeth looked around at her surroundings. Shadows jumped like phantoms. Trees hung their leaved branches low to the chilled ground, reaching for fallen comrades. It was very frightening and Jobeth shuddered, clutching her sweater around her for warmth. She forced a brave smile for Shawna’s sake. “I guess we could look for some sort of shelter.” Jobeth did not want to admit it to herself, but she too was exhausted. “Just in case it rains or something.” Shawna sighed with relief. The night air was chilly, but there was no sign of rain. Jobeth clasped Shawna’s small, pale hand in hers and together they searched for a place to sleep. It did not take long before they found a small, shallow cave beside a narrow pond. They could both smell the sweet, crisp air emanating from the water and Jobeth smiled, knowing that a swim was a good prospect for the morning. “I know it looks spooky,” She said, coming out of the mouth of the cave after searching it first. She did not want to interrupt any four-legged guests who might already be occupying the establishment. “But at least it is a roof over our heads and we are out of the open.” She persuaded Shawna into the dark cave with a stern hand on her hesitant bony back. “I wish we could see better.” Shawna said, walking beside Jobeth into the cave.Jobeth placed her arm around her companion’s thin shoulders. “We will sleep together for warmth. Here, sit down.” Gently she pressed Shawna down into the farthest corner of the cave. It was not a very large cave: just big enough for the two of them. “Use your sack for a pillow,” suggested Jobeth as she squatted down beside the child. Both sacks were quickly arranged as pillows. Shawna slowly lay down. She suddenly felt very tired and the foreign noises outside quickly faded as Jobeth deposited her exhausted form down beside her, cuddling up against her back. Heads resting on their sacks of food, Jobeth looked at Shawna, who was already breathing in deep rhythmic breaths. For the first time, Jobeth thought that Shawna’s pale face looked peaceful. Thinking of the events that had transpired during the day caused overwhelming emotions of doom and despair to crawl up Jobeth’s spine. The images of the morning began to fight their way to the surface of her conscience. Suddenly her chest felt as if a large boulder rested on top of it, crushing the very breath out of her. She sat up, looking around, breathing heavily and trying to catch her breath. Darkness enveloped her, making her heart bang against her scrawny rib cage. “No,” she yelped. Shawna frowned, stirring in her sleep. Jobeth clutched her arms around herself and shivered. “I will not. I cannot think about it ever again. I am free now.” Absently, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand. “I have more important things to worry about now.” She glanced at Shawna, who was breathing evenly again. She took a deep breath and the heaviness on her chest began to slowly disappear. She blew air out of her lungs, releasing all the pent-up emotions. “I have to be strong. There is Shawna to worry about now.” She lay back down beside the slumbering child and snuggled up close to her small, warm body. Jobeth ached all over and wondered if she would ever feel normal again. “So tired,” Jobeth mumbled. Overcome with exhaustion, her eyes grew heavy and within minutes she was asleep.
She had been dreaming of Father James, naked, coming to her. Then suddenly she was on the train, walking down the aisle to meet her parents. The baby was crying. She turned to look and noticed everyone looking at her with disgust. When she came to her parents’ seats, they glanced at her with abhorrence.
“Mama, Pappy? What? What have I done?” Jobeth was confused. Why was everyone looking at her so strangely? “How could you, Jobeth?” Mama said turning away repulsed. The back of her head was caked with blood.“How could you do this to your mother and me?” Pappy glared “Have you no shame?” He went to place his arm on his wife’s shoulder to console her, but his arm was only a mangled stump. “But Pappy…” Jobeth looked around, confused. The woman with the screaming baby avoided her eyes, shielding her crying infant from her. Jobeth felt a menacing breeze, and went to wrap her sweater around herself. There was no sweater. She had no clothes on at all. She was standing in the aisle naked. Red fingerprints covered her breasts and belly, descending down low to her hidden mound. They became redder and redder by the moment. She could hear an evil laugh coming up the aisle behind her. The laugh felt hot against her bareback. It was him. He was back again. “Jobeth, you whore. You’re mine forever. Can’t you see it? My mark is all over you.” “No!” Jobeth opened her eyes to darkness--a darkness that seemed to swallow her whole. She sat up frightened, not knowing where she was. For a moment she thought she must have died and gone to hell. Then she heard Shawna breathing beside her and remembered the events of the day. Carefully, Jobeth moved over Shawna’s sleeping form and stood to go outside. The wind nipped at her scantily clad body. It seemed angry at her, trying to blow Jobeth away for all she had done wrong in her life. She wrapped her sweater around her shoulders and gazed out across the dark trees. The wind whipped at her legs, causing goose bumps to rise. She felt a damp chill between her legs. She had not noticed the stinging sensation where the dampness was. She’d been too caught up in the surrounding darkness and the memories of her dream. She touched the wet spot on the ragged dress. Tears gripped her. Suffocating fear caused Jobeth to suddenly want to run away. Maybe if she ran, the nightmare would end. I am safe now. I am safe now. Jobeth heaved trying to control the shakiness in her knees and the beating of her heart. Could her heart take any more of this emotional turmoil? She began to remove her dress, repeating to herself that she was safe. Once her dress was off, she repeated the process over again until she was standing naked in the moonlight, clutching her urine-soaked clothing. Her head hung low as she gripped her clothing to her. She sniffed the air and savagely wiped her nose with her knuckles. “I am going to just rinse these,” she said lifting her face to the stars. Tears streamed down her face but she did not bother wiping them away. “I will never be frightened again. I will clean these clothes and no one will ever know what happened. Mama, Pappy, I will never disappoint you again. I know I am no longer the girl you have raised and I have disappointed you in the worst possible way. I did not want Father James to do what he did to me. I know I must have done something to cause him to fornicate with me. I just don’t know what. I will never entice a man to do it again. I promise. From this day forward I will be strong and never again think of how I lost my virtue.” Slowly Jobeth walked naked to the small pond. She crouched down and began to rinse her clothes by the shore.
The sun rose and shone in Jobeth’s eyes, causing her to squint and shield them with her hand. She sat up, confused as to where she was. She must have dozed off. She looked down at her thin, naked body. Her bony rib cage glared fiercely up at her. The brisk morning air caused her bruised nipples to stand erect. She winced with pain. Her whole body felt as though it had been trampled by a horse.
Embarrassed that she had fallen asleep on a rock naked, she jumped up and snatched the clothes she had carefully laid out to dry the night before. They were still damp. The sun warmed Jobeth’s bare back. She looked longingly at the stream and turned to the cave. There were no movements from within its dark mouth. Carefully, she put her damp clothes back on the rock. She glanced once again toward the cave and listened for Shawna. Nothing. She slipped into the cool stream, letting the water envelop her. She swam a few strokes toward the center, her beaten body relaxing in the icy water, which was refreshing her and making her feel reborn. Jobeth became entranced with the swim. She felt like she was being transported away from the world and the responsibilities thrust upon her. She sighed deeply and plunged under the water. Its healing powers encased her. Wrapped up in her indulgent swim, Jobeth did not notice Shawna stumble from the cave. Fuzzy from sleep and, if possible, paler than ever before, the poor girl looked as though she might faint. Jobeth surfaced and reluctantly started swimming toward the shore. She would have to wake Shawna and start on their way soon. Just because they had not been caught yet did not mean they were out of danger. People could still be looking for them and with the seed of freedom now planted in Jobeth, she would rather die than return to the prison she had just escaped. She stood up, placing her foot solidly on the sand bed beneath her. Kneading water out of her eyes she turned to face the cave. Shawna was frantic searching for her. “Shawna!” Jobeth called out, an arm protectively covering her bosom. Shawna whirled around. Jobeth looked like an angel, submerged to her waist in water, arms modestly covering her front. Tears flowed from Shawna’s eyes but when she saw Jobeth, relief flooded her completely. “What on earth is wrong?” Jobeth questioned. Embarrassed, she quickly came out of the water and hastily dressed. “I thought yah left me.” Shawna said bowing her head. She knew Jobeth was flustered because she had caught her swimming naked. Shawna couldn’t help noticing the teeth marks on Jobeth’s breasts and the fingerprints covering every inch of her body. She didn’t need to guessed what had happened to Jobeth. She’d seen it too many times before. She felt sorry for her -- but at least she was alive. The ordeal had not killed her, as it had Donna. Beads of water dripped down Jobeth’s face. Her dress, which had finally dried thanks to the sun, clung to her wet body. Jobeth wondered again if color ever entered Shawna’s face. She smiled weakly at the ghostly child and grabbed for her hand. Shawna placed her waxen palm meekly in Jobeth’s and gazed up with anguish into the older girl’s face. No child should ever have that look, thought Jobeth. No child should be this frightened. “We are together now. From now on it’s you and I. You do not have to worry about me leaving you behind. I won’t do that to you, Shawna, you must believe me. Can you stand being with me all the time?” Jobeth maintained her composure, trying to sound strong. Shawna beamed, “I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

Poppies -Prologue and Chapter 1

2009-02-12T07:38:00.000-08:00

— Prologue —
"...you guys are gonna look like Poppies in a field of daisies.”
-Adam to Alan She is dreaming. Mama and Pappy are smiling as the train rolls down the track Mama is so
beautiful and happy. Strands of her golden hair have fallen from her usually wellkept bun. She looks over at Pappy. He smiles lovingly at his wife and brushes a wisp of loose hair out of her clear, hazel eyes.
“Jobeth will be so surprised,” Pappy says in a faraway voice. His dark eyes twinkle, full of life. The conductor is walking up the aisle.“MAMA! PAPPY! RUN! GET OUT OF THE TRAIN!” The conductor is an elderly gentleman of about seventy years. He is dressed in black trousers and a matching black blazer. A black cap rests comfortably on his balding, pale head. His shiny black shoes stop at Mama and Pappy’s seat. “YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME! RUN! RUN!” The conductor tips his hat and smiles at Mama, his lips becoming smooth and unwrinkled. “Is there a problem?” Pappy asks curiously. The noise in the train is getting louder. A baby held to a plump breast in the next coach cannot be quieted and continues to cry in protest. The baby’s fists are balled up and it’s face is scrunched up in anger, fighting off some menacing creature no one else can see. The conductor places a blue-veined hand on the red velvet seat. Blood seems to billow around his knobby digits. Mouth gaping open, he looks out the window beside Mama. “HURRY--IT IS ALMOST TOO LATE! HURRY--GET OUT! MAMA! PAPPY!” The noise is increasing. The baby continues to cry louder and louder. The mother, frustrated, makes noises into the wiggling baby’s red face. She cannot understand her child’s behavior. Two gentlemen dressed in dark suits look up from the card game they are enjoying. They turn toward their window, mouths opened in surprise. Or is it fear? The noise in the coach is getting louder. There is an odd smell clinging to the air. A sweet, sickly smell. The smell of doom. The smell of certain death. “What is the problem?” Mama asks. Concern creases her smooth brow. She stands up in her seat and glances around frantically. Pappy reaches for her arm to soothe her. The conductor raises his old hand. It is shaking and blood is streaming down his arm, sliding into the waiting hole of his sleeve. His rumpled lips flap up and down like sheets on a clothesline. He defiantly shakes his raised hand at the window. Droplets of blood sprinkle Pappy’s clean white shirt and Mama’s hair. They do not notice the blood. They are looking at the old man’s fixed gaze. “MAMA! PAPPY! NO! NO!” Terror fills their eyes. The train reeks of fear. It is a fear that emanates from the very soul of each person on the train. They are going to die--they are going to die horribly and they know it. Mama looks at Pappy sadly and clutches his hand tightly. “I love you, Constance.” Pappy says above the whirling noise. “I love you, too, Michael” Mama mouths, her voice lost amongst the jumble of other fearful voices. “Jobeth . . . “ Mama chokes out. A tear rolls from Pappy’s dark eyes as he embraces his wife. “God help her.” Pappy breathes into Mama’s hair. He buries his face into her shoulder and squeezes Mama tight, knowing it would be the last time he would ever feel his wife again. Suddenly the train is lifted off the tracks. Screams echo through the compartments as the occupants are tossed around like misfit rag dolls that a spoiled child no longer wants. The hurricane sweeps the train into its vortex like a toy, crushing the conductor, crushing the card-playing gentlemen, crushing the now-silent baby. As quickly as it began, it ends. Everything is silent. There is no noise to be heard, except the crackle of flames starting to grow from the engine. The bodies of the passengers are twisted and mangled together, indistinguishable from one another. Blood flows freely from wounds and misshapen bodies. There is Mama. Pappy is nowhere to be seen. Her leg is twisted at an impossible angle. Debris covers her midsection. She is blanketed in blood. Her eyes are closed. A choking sound gurgles out of her bloody throat. Her fingers reach out into a mushy mass of severed arms and legs, searching for someone who is not there. She reaches in vain. Her broken fingernails dig into wet gore, aching for a comforting touch. Suddenly she feels the deep rumble that fills the air. Mama opens her one good eye in panic It rolls madly around in its socket searching futilely. Mama sees it coming directly toward her. A fiery ball of angry orange rolls quickly over the train. A wet bubble of a scream squeaks out of her blood-soaked throat just before she is consumed by the inferno’s sphere of death.
— Chapter 1 — Part 1 In the beginning
“Wake up Jobeth! Wake up!”
There is something shaking me, the girl thought. She opened her eyes to the threatening pull. Glaring down at her with steel-gray eyes was Mother Tomalina, a large woman who could never have been thought of as anything but homely. Even as a young woman, she had been nothing to look at. She had narrow eyes and no eyebrows or eyelashes. Folds of skin between them made them appear even closer together than they were. She had a long crooked nose, courtesy of her charming husband, Father James.
Tomalina Johnston, at the age of fifty-two, had not had an easy life. Her father forced her, to marry forty-year-old James Johnston when she was twenty-five years old. He claimed she should count herself damn lucky anyone would marry her ugly mug in the first place as he sent her on her way. She went to James Johnston, a man who repulsed and sickened her, married him and bedded with him begrudgingly, always with bile in her throat.
James Johnston, who found Tomalina unattractive, took amusement and sexual pleasure over her distaste in copulating with him. This caused him to frequently lift her gown and fondle between her frigid legs. If Mother Tomalina refused Father James, she would be faced with even more pain and humiliation: a nice black eye or a broken nose. Once he even broke a couple of ribs. With time, Mother Tomalina, who had never been a warm very person to begin with, became a bitter old woman. Her heart filled with hate and contempt. Her thin lips were usually pursed into a pucker. The beginnings of a road map of wrinkles covered her face. Her gray hair was always pulled tightly back from her long thin face, so tight that it seemed the roots would pop out and all that would be left was a handful of scant bun.
Mother Tomalina savagely grabbed the girl lying on the cot and dropped her like a lump of coal onto the cold cement floor. Jobeth felt no pain as she fell, only shame. Shame for the wet spot between her legs and on her nightgown.
She had wet herself again. Her mind started racing with the things to come. He would come now, and she feared him much more than she feared Mother
Tomalina. She closed her eyes and swallowed. How did she end up here? How did she, the daughter of Constance and Michael Roberts, end up on a cement floor, soiled and humiliated, awaiting a beating by people she had never even imagined could be so cruel. A lump formed in the back of her throat. Jobeth had once had such a good life, a happy life. Why did it seem a lifetime ago? The hurricane. It all started (or ended depending on how she looked at it) with the hurricane.
Her parents had been killed it on their journey home, after a getaway in Louisiana It was far from their Northern dwelling, but it was a much needed trip for Constance and Michael. Jobeth had stayed home because she had not wanted to miss school, and she felt her parents needed some time alone to heal some wounds. Six month’s prior, her younger brother Paul had been killed. As a rambunctious eight year old, he had been the apple of his parents’ and sister’s eyes.
Jobeth’s parents had given up all hope of ever having another child after their daughter’s birth. Each pregnancy ended by the fourth month in a painful miscarriage, sending Constance Roberts, sick and depressed, to her bed. By the time Jobeth was six years old, her Pappy had beseeched with his wife not to go through with the pregnancy she had just become aware of.
“Michael, God’s will shall be done. I will not destroy this gift.” Constance said calmly but firmly to her panicked husband. “But Constance, if you lose this one, we may lose you also. Is it God’s will that Jobeth and I live without you?” Michael asked in despair. “I do not wish to discuss the matter anymore. This child will come when it is ready or not. But it will be born when it decides and not beforehand.” Constance stood firmly, not looking at him. She rarely disagreed with her husband, but when she did there was no changing her mind. Michael knew there would be no arguing with her and he feared for his beloved wife’s life, hating the child in her womb that threatened her.Several months later at a birth that nearly killed Constance, Paul was born, big and healthy. As soon as Michael’s wailing, squirmy son was placed into his arms, all hate he had for the boy left and love took over. Jobeth, seeing that her mother was going to live and that the child she’d been carrying was also going to live, quickly forgot about her former feelings and became excited that she was no longer an only child. Since his birth, Pauli, a name adopted by Jobeth, was a child everyone, including his big sister, doted on. The little boy with light brown hair and seagreen eyes was aware of his family’s affections and knew that he could do no wrong. So, often he got himself into trouble knowing he would be forgiven. This was his mindset when he climbed the tree in the backyard of their home. He had been warned many times by his parents and Jobeth that it was too high and he could seriously hurt himself should he fall. Pauli felt he could do it. He had climbed many trees in his eight years and this beast of a tree would prove that he was the best tree climber around. He had done well until he reached the top branch. The twigs up this high were brittle and bark flaked off easily under his thick-soled boots, crumbling to the ground far below. Pauli had to clutch tightly to the main torso of the tree several times to balance himself. As he looked up, the leaves of the tree spiraled up to the sun, letting only glimpses of sunshine through. He felt triumph. He had conquered the beast. He raised his right hand high into the coiled green and let out a victory cry. His hand slapped against a branch. It moved and let in some of the sun’s blinding rays. Squinting, he became temporarily blinded. His hand instinctively went to shield his eyes, causing him to lose his footing on the branch. It happened so fast. Pauli never knew what hit him. He never even felt his neck snap, sounding eerily like the branches that fell underneath him, as he hit the ground and landed on his head. He was killed instantly. Jobeth and her parents were devastated after the death of little Pauli. Although they clung to each other for support, the emptiness would always be in their hearts. Jobeth felt relief when her parents had left on the train to a popular resort located on the coast of Louisiana. She had visited there many times with her parents and brother. It was a favored place to vacation in 1893. The dark circles that seemed to haunt both her beloved parents’ eyes seemed to be just a tiny bit faded. She knew this was just what the doctor had ordered. She had been studying quietly in the parlor, curled up in Pappy’s favorite velvet chair when she heard the knock on the door. Sitting up, she folded her notebook and absent-mindly placed it on a nearby end table. Shivering, and feeling as though something was wrong, she walked to the door. Rich aromas hung thick and delicious in the air. She had prepared her Pappy’s favorite: roast suckling pig with potatoes and baby carrots, topped with a thick rich gravy. Her mouth began to water with anticipation of her parents’ arrival. They were due any time now and she could not wait to see them. It had been lonely while they were away and a little frightening at night with all the shadows dancing around on the wall. One night she was certain Pauli’s ghost had returned to get her, angry because she had not saved him from his fall from the tree. She knew she was being silly. But still she hid, quivering under her covers, fearful Pauli would come, his head sitting on his shoulders in an unnatural way. Jobeth quickened her step to the foyer, figuring that maybe it was her parents so loaded down with parcels that they could not get the door. She smiled broadly and skipped excitedly to the entrance. Opening the door, her joy was quickly dashed. Isaiah Hyman the old Jewish man who was her family’s closest neighbor was standing in the doorway. He twisted his yarmulke nervously in his rough, old hands, his leathery face drawn and sad. “Mr. Hyman, what is it? Is there something wrong?” Jobeth’s heart suddenly began to race. Mr. Hyman was not a man to smile much. He never had any type of expression on his face, only a neighborly wave and a “How do you do?” Frightened, Jobeth began to twist her hands together. Maybe something had happened to his sweet wife Sarah?“Is it Mrs. Hyman?” She reached out and clutched the old man’s hand warmly but firmly. “No Miss Roberts, Mrs. Hyman is doing well, but I do bring bad news.” He looked down at the ground, wishing he were not the conveyer of unfortunate tidings. “It is about Mr. and Mrs. Roberts. There has been an accident . . .”
Jobeth could not stop crying. At first it was a guttural deep wounded cry that took her breath away, but as days past, it lessened to silent tears. People from town frequently came to console the young girl, bringing plates of steaming food, but nothing worked. She sat numb, hands limp in her lap, as each person asked the same questions.
“Do you have any other relatives dear?” “No. They were all I had,” she would answer bleakly. Concern for Jobeth’s welfare soon became eminent. Although she was fourteen years old, she could not run a large farm–and it was improper for an unmarried girl to live alone without a guardian.
It was unanimously agreed by the town council that since Jobeth had no living relatives, she would be sent to a nearby town to live with a couple who were known to take in orphaned children.
The arrangements were made immediately and the couple was very accommodating in accepting another mouth to feed. Jobeth’s father’s farm was auctioned off and his arrears paid off with the proceeds of the auction. The small amount of money left after all the debts were paid was given to the couple taking Jobeth in. This was to help feed her, clothe her and keep her in school until she came of age. All this was done as Jobeth sat back passively and watched her old life slip away.
The house she was sent to was the home of Mother Tomalina and Father James Johnston. From the moment Jobeth stepped into the filthy shack, she relived her parents’ death in dreams. Sometimes Pauli was with them, his neck broken and his head twisted and hanging on his shoulders. When she awoke from the depths of her nightmares, bathed in sweat and panting heavily, she saw that she had wet herself like a child just fresh out of nappies. Although Jobeth was humiliated, she could not seem to stop herself. Which brought her back to her present predicament: Lying on a filthy cement floor with Mother Tomalina standing over her. “You filthy girl.” Mother Tomalina screeched. Jobeth tried to get up and run But she was too slow as Mother Tomalina’s strong hand stopped Jobeth in her tracks with a stinging slap across her soft face, sending her sailing across the room. This time Jobeth felt the pain. She brought her hand up to her throbbing cheek and instantly felt the heat rise from her assaulted countenance. Quickly she wiped away the drops forming in the corner of her eyes. “Get up and strip.” Mother Tomalina said in a dry, dead voice, as she turned her back to Jobeth. The girl stood up, shaking on weak legs, and stared at the large rump bent over the tiny cot. Mother Tomalina quickly removed the gray, soiled sheets.“I should wipe your nose in it, you filthy girl.” Mother Tomalina hated children, and thanked God that He chose not to implant her womb with any of her husband’s demon seed. She knew that it was she who was barren and was grateful for it. Guilt filled Jobeth as she shivered and slowly started to unbutton her worn night gown. She could not understand why she wet herself nightly. She never had before. Her numb fingers slowly worked on her buttons. She stared down at the faded gown and wondered again as to the fate of her old clothes. She used to have pretty dresses. Blue and pink with lace collars, not these gray sheer nighties she wore now. They were so worn from use that one could see her naked form beneath it Where had her clothes gone? She had not seen them since she came to live here. Mother Tomalina had taken them from her the moment Mr. Hyman had left after dropping her off in his buggy. “You won’t be needing these high missy clothes here. You’re here to work, not show off your wares.” Mother Tomalina sniffed through her nose that first day. Jobeth didn’t understand the meaning of those words as she followed the homely older woman down to the cellar, her clothes captive in Mother Tomalina’s firm grasp. But they became crystal clear soon after.“Fourteen years old and still messes the bed. Dogs ain’t this bad.” Mother Tomalina scowled, scooping the sheets into her arms. She turned to face Jobeth, who was still fumbling with her buttons. “Not only are you as dirty a dog, you are slow as one too.” A large hand suddenly reached out from beneath the sheets and grabbed the neckline of the nightie. Jobeth’s head snapped up in protest, but before she could say anything Mother Tomalina had ripped her gown viciously off her. She quickly bent down to pick up the pieces of her only night garment and tried in vain to cover her nudity. Now what will I wear!? Jobeth screamed in her head, not daring to speak her anger aloud. “Humph.” Mother Tomalina clucked, her eyes sinking into the younger girl’s naked body. “That modesty of yours will go. There is only one place for the likes of you and that’s the streets.” Jobeth wrinkled her forehead in confusion. The streets? What did she mean? Mother Tomalina twisted her lips into a sour pucker. “Don’t look so innocent to me--within a year you’ll be spreading those pretty white thighs to any eager man with a jingle in his pocket. I’ve seen your type before. You’ll end up with a bastard in your belly not knowing who the Pa is or where he went. Jobeth opened her mouth in protest but Mother Tomalina quickly turned on her heels to leave. She swiveled around suddenly to face the dismayed young girl. “Father will be down to deal with you shortly. I reckon he’ll be mighty mad.” She smirked. Jobeth’s blood ran cold in her veins as Mother Tomalina closed the door. She will do for a while, Mother Tomalina thought to herself. He would leave Tomalina alone for a little while at least, and when he got bored with this one, she’d just find a new one. She groaned under her own weight as she ascended the stairs. She would sleep well tonight.
“How could she say that?” Jobeth’s lips quivered “My Mama and Pappy never raised a girl like that.” She clutched her gown around her tiny breasts and went to sit down on her cot. The cold, wet gown touched her flat belly.
Goosebumps jumped to the surface of her skin, forcing her thoughts to reality. Father James would be down soon. Ice-cold fingers crawled up Jobeth’s spine and the hair on the nape of her
neck stood on end. He would be dressed in his usual trousers, old and faded from years of use. In his large, hairy hands would lay the belt. The belt that would soon turn into a whip that would lash Jobeth’s young flesh.
She was terrified of him. He was huge and burly with cruel, beady eyes. Never had she met a man like him. Then again, she had never experienced brutality until she had come to the home of the Johnstons. Jobeth peeked through the strands of her own greasy hair. She had always been clean, but since she was thrown into this prison for some hidden crime she had committed, she had only been allowed one bath per month. “It’s too much trouble to waste time pumping water from the spring,” Mother Tomalina said. Jobeth was not permitted hot water either when it was time to bathe. It was a waste of cooking wood to heat water for a bath. “We don’t have them privileges here.” Mother Tomalina would preach, “A cold bath makes for a quick bath, so you can be sure you won’t be lazing around soaking in a hot, fancy tub.” Jobeth had to admit the old woman was right about that. The water was always ice cold. She would quickly wash the grime off her skin and be out of the tin barrow before she turned into an ice cube. Once, she was last to take a bath. The water had been warm and greasy from the previous people who used it. This disturbed her more than bathing in freezing water. From then on she volunteered to be first into the tub. It was better to wash in cold water than to bathe in someone else’s dirt. She closed her eyes and cowered on the corner of her cot, waiting. The Johnston’s didn’t have a large house and with all the children they took in, there was not enough room for everyone to sleep. Jobeth’s cot was in a small room dug out in the cellar. All that furnished the room was her cot. The few clothes Mother Tomalina had given her after taking Jobeth’s were neatly folded in the corner of her cubbyhole. Her heart pounded uncontrollably as her eyes darted around the gray room. She would never become accustomed to the degradation of being whipped naked. The first time Father James had come into her room a month ago, she was more upset that he had seen her naked then at the beating. He did not seem to care if she was naked or not. He just grabbed her and beat her and left. Jobeth had cried for hours. No man had ever seen her naked. Not even Pauli or her Pappy. It was just not decent and she felt somehow dirty from it all. But worse of all was the way Father James looked at her. It was a hungry look. Like a fox about to pounce on it’s prey. Bile rose in her throat. Those eyes were far more frightening than the belt ever could be.
Father James stood holding onto the knob of the door. Inside was the whore. The whore he must possess. He felt himself harden with desire. Yes, she
would be his, just like the others. She would be his. He thought of the greasy little wench inside and a mixture of lust and hate filled him. Scratching his swollen belly, he belched with disgust. All women repulsed him. They reminded him of his mother. As a child his life had been filled with humiliation after humiliation by the very hands of the woman who birthed him. His father would leave for work in the fields and the nightmare would begin.
“JAMES! You lazy good-for-nothing, I told you to get the eggs from the barn.” She would yell with such venom. James would duck his curly head down to try to avoid the hard whack across the head, but it didn’t matter. Her hand always connected, and if it wasn’t her hand, it was something else. Once she had knocked him out with a rock. As he lay semiconscious on the ground, bleeding from the head, she calmly stood over him, her dark eyes looking down at his sixyear-old body with disgust and said, “Get up, or just die. I don’t’ care which one you choose.”
The memory flooded Father James with hate and anger. He had endured his mother’s torture until he was eighteen. On a cold winter’s morning she had woken him to a slap across the head and something snapped. He grabbed her hand and all the anger he had built up inside him broke through like a raging inferno He saw the fear in her eyes as he easily twisted her arm behind her back. She grunted painfully as he forcefully heaved her body next to his. He said nothing as his hand went up and connected full force across her thin face. The joy he felt did not need words. She had cried out, but that only excited him more as he ploughed his fist over and over into her face. It was the beginning. The beginning of years of abusing women. First he found pleasure in beating them, but soon that became tiresome. As his beating became more violent, so did his sexual desire. After a while his beatings were accompanied with much more. He sighed thinking about it. They were all the same. Just like his mother. His mother had died from his abuse, but he had gotten away with it. Who would have suspected a son of beating his mother to death? He always got away with it and he would again with this one… what was her name? He scratched his greasy head and specks of dandruff fell onto his yellow stained shirt. Jo something… Some silly name he had never heard of before. He didn’t really care. She would be his to play with in whatever way he wanted. And today he wanted more than to beat her, he wanted to own her. Father James turned the knob and walked into the tiny room. The girl was huddled into a corner of the bed. She shrank back in fear. The smell of sweat clung to him and consumed the room as he gently shut the door, locking it behind him.

where oh where have my little blogs gone?

2009-02-07T13:16:00.000-08:00

For someone who loves to write I sure suck at blogging. I guess I don't find me very interesting to write about haha!
Not much new around the home front. We are getting excited to head to Florida for a little M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!! should be fun fun fun, and no Dad is going to take our T-bird away!

So here is something interesting. A friend of mine want to follow eachother's very sparce blogs and of course we can't figure out how I can add me as her Stalk- errr I mean follower. I guess it is one of those things I will just have to figure out eventually, through hrs of obessing. That is ok I am good at obsessive conpulsive behaviour. I actually get a BIG A+++++ in obsessions.

So right now I am reading My sister's Keeper (yes on my pda... that obsession hasn't lessened since my last blog entry a gazzilon yrs ago.) and I am liking it!! Although I am conflicted... read the book you will understand what I mean. I started Inkheart and put it away for now because I just can't get into it and I am in the mood for something good to read.

Missy girl started to walk, and has shown me that everyone lied.... GIRLS ARE NOT easier than boys... well not girls born after five brothers that is for sure. That female child of mine is going to give me a run for my money. That is ok. I will take it, I like strong females, and expect nothing less from a daughter of MINE.

As for the boys? Baby boy #3 finally lost his front tooth, and we all jumped for joy because finally he will stop whinning about his tooth and the blood that comes from it just dangling there. As for the rest of the kiddoes. Baby boy #1 turns 19yrs old in 3 days... yup he can get smashing drunk and has the "law" on his side now. Woo hoo, lucky me. Mama told me there would be days like this.... she sure wasn't bull Sh#tting. Thanks Ma!

Back to the front lines, it is going to be a bumpy ride.

Ebooks and ereaders

2008-10-27T15:13:00.000-07:00

I am 100% addicted to ebooks. I own a Dell pda and have downloaded hundrends of ebooks on it. I am currently reading The Poisonwood Bible and am enjoying it very much. Another great book read in ebook form.

So My PDA is one I bought on ebay for under $90 US dollars. (before the Canadian dollar went so down down down.) I got a memory card (1g). The reason such a good price>??? It is a 2004 brand new Dell LOL, so it is alittle outdated for todays standards I guess. I don't care I only wanted it to read ebooks. And after downloading adope 2.0 and Micrsoft reader and changing any Word document into rich text, I am in reading HEAVEN!

So before I bought my pda on ebay, I did some searching. I was very tempted to buy the Kindle and even the Sony reader but decided against it because of having to use only their store of books. BUT I will say I am waiting.... on pins and needles to what the new Kindle (or Sony reader or any reader for that matter) has to bring. Give me something to add my ebooks I have already with the e-ink page like screen and I am all over it.. for a more decent price that is LOL.

addicted to adoption

2008-10-20T11:40:00.001-07:00

I always wanted a daughter, and I always wanted many sons.

I didn't know I wanted a large family but life's little surprises showed me otherwise. I didn't know I would have this large family of 5 boys and one girl and before there was a 2nd, 3rd, 4th or 5th son and before there was a little baby girl at the end of 5 boys. I wanted a child and couldn't' seem to have one. My husband wasn't keen on adopting and I always have been ever since I had my first son. I didn't enjoy pregnancy and well I also didn't enjoy the recovery afterwards. But I always love the baby, always. And I wanted to be a mother again. Low and behold it wouldn't happen so easy. But with the help of clomid, I was able to go on and have 3 more sons, and then my opps! Avery and double opps before the Vasectomy Ameline. :)

After my 4th son though, I started to look into adoption for a daughter. I researched like crazy and tried to figure out what way I could adopt that would be realistic for our situation. I had decided on foster to adopt and then found out I was pg with my 5th son, after he was born I was back on the adoption train to get my baby girl and low and behold this girl who couldn't get pregnant without the help of fertility drugs was knocked up again but this time with my sweet baby girl.
I feel overly blessed and lucky to have the family I have always dreamed of... super sized.

But adoption still plagues me. I am drawn to it, adoption blogs, message boards. Anything to do with adoption and I am totally in love with Ethiopia right now. MY gawd the children are beautiful. I can't get their faces out of my mind. I know if I ever become a best selling author and have the $$ and resources to handle more children (that means hired help LOL) I would LOVE to adopt a boy and girl from Ethiopia... I already have their names I would want August Whilder and Aila Fae or Aila Katherine (Aila pronounced EYE-la)

(((sigh))) but the reality of my world right now is I am run off my feet, over worked and under paid and my crew is more than enough for me to handle. But in my perfect world, I have two more children adopted from Ethiopia and I am a best selling author with plenty of money and help.

TO DREAM! To dream! Cant' give up on your dreams. Never know what the future holds.

rambling

2008-10-16T10:58:00.000-07:00

I really want to start getting off my butt and writing. I need to stop thinking and start doing it again. I am really pleased with what I have already for "THE LAST BOY" I think it may be the best writing I have ever done. It is nearly finished, I need to just DO IT. I find it so hard though since I have no motivation and although I am very much a planner, scheduling my life down to the tee, I procrastinate when it comes to writing. WHY??? I am here writing this. Why do I do it with writing???

I was talking today with a guy I went to high school with and he wrote a book.(http://www.chapters.indigo.ca/books/One-Hand-Screaming-Mark-Leslie/9780973568806-item.html) and I can hear the excitement in his voice for writing... the kind of excitement I use to have when it came to writing. I need to find that again. I blame a lot of it on kids and stuff but that shouldn't' be an excuse. If you want something bad enough you have to GO FOR IT. I am a big believer in this, because I know it is true. It is my fav motto from the 1970's little mermaid cartoon. "Believe in your dreams and they'll all come true, the rest of your life is up to you"

SO TRUE SO TRUE SO TRUE!!

So I better start believing because I REALLY really want to write novels for a living. I want to give up the scissors and write write write. I have so many ideas, so many books started, I could easily write till the day I die... well I will write till the day I die but it would be nice if someone wanted to READ IT HAHAH!

I have always envisioned certain things I want in life. Saw it in my head and so far the majority of those things have come to reality.... I even saw myself pregnant at a book signing at Coles bookstore in the mall I live near... I saw it when I was only a teenager.... I didn't understand the pregnant part since back then I didn't plan to have any children, but I just knew I would have a book signing there... and I did yrs later in 2005 when I was pregnant with my 5th son, Avery. So yeah I believe if I can see it in my mind, it will happen. I just can't picture it NOT happening. And I do feel like it is close, like something is about to open up and happen. I also know I need to get off the Internet and start writing!!!

Did I mention one of my fav characters in "THE LAST BOY" named Serena keeps haunting me?? She keeps saying "COME ON, I have so much to tell so get your butt in here (yes "their" world) and write it" LOL I love her evil self (opps probably shouldn't have said that part) she is just a character I NEVER planned on being such an important person in the novel. I based her on a fellow mom of many boys named Serena... that is where the similarities end. My character Serena has a life all her own HAHA!

ok so that is my rambling for today. I am pretty sure no one really reads this but it feels good to let loose my verbal garbage.

Attached is the picture I want for my newest novel. It is my 3rd son when hew as only 3yrs old. I dreamed it and took it the next day.

A Quote from Epicurus and Kate

2008-10-13T06:34:00.000-07:00

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”

Now if that isn't the quote for all.

Lately I have been extremely overwhelmed. Just fed up, tired and DONE with everything. I sometimes just want to run away I am so knee deep in crap to do. I want to lay around and read, watch sappy movies and eat bad food. But no I get up get the boys off to school, work out, do some running around and fold a ton of laundry and put it away, then do hair all afternoon and get the boys then hair all night and start all over again the next day. Boo hoo Deena. Well I saw this quote today on a gender determination board. I use to frequent them a lot when I wanted a daughter so badly.

It just struck me as so true. When I just had one son for 11yrs, I wanted another baby ANY baby so badly. With the help of Clomid I finally got him, then I wanted a girl, and well that went on for yrs. During that time I did love what I had already but I constantly wanted more. Now I look back over the past 8yrs and I can't believe that once upon a time, I just wanted one more child. .... and now my oldest is about to be 19yrs old.
Now I have those children and I want "just to become a successful writer"
It is always something with me. I am glad I am driven and determine, but I need to stop and smell the rose so to speak... be grateful for what I DO have, because is is A LOT more than some and many would love to have what I do have.... 6 healthy beautiful (sometimes little demons) children.
Yes it is hard right now juggling it all, but those monster babies are worth it. Every single one of them from the oldest down to the youngest. I will succeed as a writer, as long as I put my fullest effort into it... when I look at the truth of things, I am not putting my fullest effort into it. I don't write on my book every day like I should and I don't promote Poppies like I should. So what I do need to do is stop complaining and get my butt in gear to succeed in what I still want... but I have to look at what I do have and be grateful at the same time.

What is it that Kate from John and Kate plus 8 says?

"Today, I could very well lose my mind........(I will put raising 6 kids here LOL)

It might be a crazy life, but it's our life"

Breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out.... it isn't suppose to be easy I guess

almost broke my leg!

2008-10-11T10:29:00.001-07:00

So a couple of little girls from our neighbourhood came to sell some "cards" for .25cents each around 3:30ish yesterday. So I decided to buy some and as I went to get a looney to buy 4 cards for my 4 younger boys.... my youngest son Avery decides to sit on the top step. I turn to go down those steps not seeing him and of course TRIPPED on him... Not wanting to hurt him I some how leeped over him and basicly nose dived down the flight of WOODEN steps head first into the stroller. I landed on my leg and thought for sure it was broken. Long story short, it isn't broken, but very badly sprained and bruised. I am on crutches for a few days (but I am not using them because in my house of horrors that is asking to break a leg for sure next time) so tomorrow Thanksgiving dinner should be interesting LOL and I am taking all 6kids for pictures also tomorrow.Had to cancel all my appointments today (clients understood) and last night and so I am forced on few day rest... which is actually AWESOME because I am so overwelmed lately.Thank goodness it isn't broken. I work from home I don't get sick pay and PMS would be a walk in the park to deal with than me held up for months in a cast.
__________________

The obsession with THE DUGGERS

2008-10-07T07:59:00.000-07:00

Why oh WHY am I addicted to watching what is going on with this family??? I mean they make my family seem small, I am NOT big into organized religion, they seem to perfect and YET I WATCH..... everytime, and when I see a new show I get all excited and get all cozied up on the couch and watch....

Last night their son Josh got engaged to little mama clone Anna (I actually think they are so adorable) I patheticly went and checked out their website and discovered that Josh and Anna were married the end of Sept. Well you know I will be looking forward to watching nerdy adorable Josh's wedding. I just think he is so handsome! I seriously do, even though I find him geeky but in a sweet way "I would be so proud of you son" way.

Am I weird?? Why do they interest me. I mean I watch the cheaper by the dozen shows too and don't find myself as excited as I do when the Duggers come on LOL. Maybe I find them sincere?? Maybe I actually believe that what they are saying is really going on??? I don't always feel that with the other large families on TLC. (I can't stand John and Kate +8 they just get on my nerves and they are MORE like my family than NOT LOL)

And although I have 6 kids I am not really that big into big families... I didn't go forth and say lets procreate... things happened and suddenly I was one of "those" people who had a larger family (small to the Duggers) If someone asks me should they have a large family I can't say OH Yeah go for it, I have to say well think about it... they don't stay babies forever and several toddlers/small children IS ALOT of work... teens are another ball park all together.
And one word.... LAUNDRY lots and lots of
BUT I am not against it that is for sure. I adore my kids, even if they are putting me in the funny farm.

Ok this is long, but I had to get it off my chest.

books books and more books

2008-10-05T16:09:00.001-07:00

So recently I have become addicted to ebooks. I search the net constantly for new ebooks to put on my pda. I just love it! I know have over 300 books on my pda actually probably even more than that but I am too lazy to count them.

I am in reader HEAVEN!

I love to read. It takes you away, makes you feel all comfy and cozy. There is nothing like a good book to escape to and lately I want to escape A LOT.

Books I am reading right now. (in paperback not ebook)
Saffron Skies
I love this author and just discovered in a rather funny way. I was googling my daughter's name Ameline, trying to get an idea what Amelines look like LOL Ok maybe that isn't normal but I do it with my kids names... remember I am addicted to names so this seems perfectly normal to google.
Well I came across http://www.amazon.com/Bitter-Chocolate-Lesley-Lokko/dp/0752869094/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1223248585&sr=1-3
Bitter Chocolate has a main character named Ameline and well.......... yes I bought the book based on her name. I am sure the author says it am-meh-LEEN but I don't care I bought the book and enjoyed it so much I bought her first two books. I like this author and I will keep my eyes open for future books.

I am also TRYING to get through New Moon. The second instalment in the Twilight series. I know I know, everyone loves these books and I am really trying to give it a chance but man... I am not feeling the love, specially for Edward. Now Louis in Interview with a vampire. I get.

I have also just stumbled on an author that I normally probably would never read but I am tempted to see what she is all about
MaryJanice Davidson and her Undead series. I found all of them on ebook so I am going to give them a go. Why not, might as well expand my horizons.

I like all sorts of books, I enjoy complex thrillers and light chick lits. What I am reading and what I think of the book I am reading WILL be a topic I write about in my blog.

So off I go to curl up (kids are in bed) with a good book. There ain't nothing like it.

2008-10-03T09:21:00.001-07:00

wanted to share my book Poppies. Here is a link to the ebook. I figure if I want to be a famous writer people have to see my book and read it so that when THE LAST BOY comes out they will be hungry for it and want to buy it. So here it is, I hope someone one read it and LOVE IT and spread the word. Besides being a mother, being a success writer is my other equally biggest dream.

You know the saying Believe in your dreams and they'll all cme true! The rest of your life is up to you.

my Motto for life.

Hope you enjoy

http://www.esnips.com/doc/c9482133-e03b-4e04-b32e-9792f6221196/Poppies-By-Deena-Thomson

Nursery Rhyme equal to life

2008-10-03T09:12:00.000-07:00

One two buckle my shoe
Three, four, knock at the door
Five, six, pick up sticks
Seven, eight, lay them straight
Nine, ten, a big fat hen
Eleven, twelve, dig and delve
Thirteen, fourteen, maids a-courting
Fifteen, sixteen, maids in the kitchen
Seventeen, eighteen, maids in waiting
Nineteen, twenty, my plate's empty

Isn't that the philosphey of life. So true so true

The beginning

2008-10-03T07:19:00.001-07:00

So I thought I would do this blog thing. Tell the tales of a mom of 6 kids... five boys and one girl. Get my thoughts out there, write some and more.

It isn't always easy being a mom but it has it rewards big time.

The low down on Deena +6. Well there is a Todd(hehe) he would be the Dada in this story, and me aka the Mama and then there are THE BOYS aka "THE A TEAM" and the GIRL aka Missy. All ranging in ages from 18yrs old to 11months old.

They drive me to drink sometimes but BOY you got to love them. They are giving me a past that one day I am going to laugh till my gut wants to bust and my jaw wants to crack. oh and don't forget the blackmail for future wives and a hubby. YOU WATCH you kiddies of mine!! Wait what I am going to share on your wedding days!

This is my life for sure and I wouldn't trade it, even though sometimes I wouldn't mind a little escape!

First order of conversation. My children's names. Yes I am one of "those" I did it... I admit it. I named all my children with the letter A. A is a great letter... beginning of the alphebet and all, but I will admit, I didn't start out planning to name my troups all A names... but then again I didn't start out planning to have 6 kids!
Oldest Anthony. Well what can I say, I have always loved the name. Ok when I ever torture myself and watch one of those insane Nanny reality shows I am a little put off that ALL the monster boys are named Anthony, but whateve... my Anthony was more the "St Anthony" when he was growing up. He was a pure joy to raise as a little boy... teens another story but every child should fall off the parentally induced pedestal at some point. Don't yah think???
Fast forward 11yrs later. After a rough start trying to concieve #2 HERE COMES BOY #2!! Woo hoo!!
Aidyn.. yes it is super popular, yup there is a Y in his name. But it was a name we loved for some time and (still do) and although it starts with an A I also wanted Avery (since Anthony was about 2yrs old I have wanted this name) and I wanted Luca.... I also liked Elliot. Toddie boy, on the other hand DID NOT want Avery (you know the whole attraction of boy names on girl thing) and he out and out refused to name his child after a hot guy on ER........ again..... whateve hubby. Besides Aidyn with a Y had alot of special meaning for husband and Anthony. Enough said when baby was born, screaming and flailing those scrawny little arms and legs born 3 weeks early... and the runt of the litter by far (although we wouldn't know he was the runt for several more yrs) Aidyn he was.. and Aidyn it surely is.... interesting that now I find Aidyn of any spelling to also seem like little holy terrors.... mine included.... no "St Aidyn" here LOL, but I am hoping that changes when he hits the teens... WHAT it could happen!

baby #3
Ansen. Not done on purpose either, names that were on the table till 4 weeks before he was born. Avery, (again the boy names on girl thing Dad issue) Elliot... loved Billy Elliot, Myles and the number one name we had was Ethan... I think it was like #2 in the boy names in 2002. We didn't find out with Ansen what we were having... but I had a dream about 4 weeks before he was born that he was a boy. Anthony, Aidyn and Myles just didn't do it for me for a sib set, so I sent Todd out into the wilderness of names and said
"Find me a 3rd son name, make it so #1)
and he did, he came home one night as I waddled around miserably and announced, "What do you think of the name Ansen>????"
WTF?? I am a Anthony and Aidyn girl??? I am all over top 10 names, here is my hubby all proud of his name choice asking me if I like Ansen as a name for our 3rd son. ummmm.........ok.

BUT THEN, I did it... you know the thing us moms do when we are trying out a name. I said it with my other boys names. Anthony, Aidyn and Ansen.......... perfect. It was the fit I was not feeling with the other names. It was the name.
Ansen.
I had a hard time telling people at first his name. (hey it was no Ethan! I am comfortable with Ethan!) but as I looked down on my 3rd son, who at birth was mistaken for being albino........ there was no other name that suited him, He was and still is my sweet Ansen. And of course now I KNOW how much the name ROCKS. To think I thought it was too out there once upon a time!

Son #4 well A name it was after #3 was named a name starting with A, there was no going back.
I still wanted Avery... and hubby was starting to falter.. but still not enough. So again Hubby comes home (and son #4 wasn't even concieved YET!) and says Dee what do you think of the name Arris?? Again the look of horror on my face, followed by the naming in order Anthony, Aidyn, Ansen and Arris......... yup you got it. The same dawning realization that it fit perfect. And it means Excellent and BEST. So of course I instantly fell in love... and knew of course that we would have son #4! And an Amazing 4th son to boot.

Son #5
What can I say. After having to use fertility drugs to get sons #2,3 and 4 what a surprise to learn we were having another baby. Of course Hubby had no choice. Son #5 was going to be Avery PERIOD. End of story.
Coincidentally Avery means ruler of the elves and well, our Avery has one ear that is the exact shap of an elf's. I have a little story I like to tell the kids that Avery is really the Elf king sent to live with us in disguise (hense the one elf ear as the only clue to his true identity) we are keeping his safe from the enemies of the forest until it is time for him to take his rule of the forest.... yeah he will probably need a good Shrink when he is older, but HEY who doesn't these days.

Regardless, my Avery Kai-Kai is my special person. He is my little soul mate and a life lesson that surprises are special gifts from the universe.

GIRL #1! What the heck!?!?! We didn't think we could grow one of those!!! Missy girl snuck in right before Dad's big V... yes you are guessing it right the big snip snip V. And what a great gift she is. Well all our girl names have not been A names but I had a dream (I have had many and one day I will tell the kid dreams) anways I had a dream before I was pregnant with her and then it kept repeating itself over and over again... in more detail of course. and in it a voice kept telling me I was having a girl and her name was Ameline, pronounced am-meh-LINE (side not this name is most commonly said am-meh-LEEN). I thought the voice was saying Emmeline, until the jewelery box dreams with the name all spelt different. Either way I did some research and found the old french Ameline. I still wasn't sold on it until I found out she truelly was a girl and the dreams became so insistant that she was Ameline. AND BOY is she an Ameline. My Sweet Ameline.

So there you have it, in all it's corny full blown truth. I wouldn't change a thing, I love all their names and it is very much THEM. BUT baby namers beware this is how you have large families with all the same letters. It starts out innocently with just a love of a name, not even a letter and next thing you know you are the "A" version of the Duggers well minus 10 or so kids!

LOL this is fun.