The Ballad of Ami Miles

by Kristy Dallas Alley

  Suddenly my tears stopped and I felt real calm. I finally understood that my mother could not help me. If I wanted to find a way to make things right and go back to Heavenly Shepherd to stand in my rightful place, I would have to do it alone. This was not about my mother; it was about me, and I needed to concentrate on the other idea I’d had on the road: that I could find a husband and take him back home with me. I rolled away from the tear-soaked pillow and went to splash some water on my face in the bathroom. My face in the mirror was splotched red, and my eyes were puffy.

  “You look like some kind of prize,” I said to myself. I needed to think, and I did my best thinking outside. The little white bathroom felt too small to hold me, and I had to get out. I wasn’t sure how I could get outside without seeing or talking to anyone, but there had to be a way. I opened the door a crack and peeked to make sure no one was in the hall, then slipped out and down the stairs. Then instead of going back toward the big room and the front desk where I’d first come in, I decided to go the other way, down a long hallway that matched the one upstairs toward the other end of the building. Sure enough, there was another, smaller door with a sign above it that said EXIT.

  I wasn’t sure where I’d be coming out, so I cracked open the door and looked around to make sure the coast was clear. It looked like I was at the far end of one wing of the building, and I only had to cross a small grassy area to get to a path leading into some woods. As soon as I walked into the shade of the trees, I felt my heartbeat slow down. I breathed in the smell of pine and felt at home the way I always did out in the woods. For a long time, I just walked. I let myself notice the lacy patterns the light and shadows made on the forest floor and the sounds the birds and other animals made. I felt the cool dirt and leaves and pine needles beneath my bare feet the way I always had. All that crying had left me feeling hollowed out, but now a peaceful feeling was seeping into the empty spaces like cool green light.

  I walked for a long time before the path I was on ran out. When I stepped out from the trees, I saw that I had been following the curve of the lake, and now I was at the edge of the water. The lake looked even bigger from here, and the lodge and cabins of Lake Point seemed far away and tiny. About halfway between me and the buildings, I could see where the woods I’d been in were pushed back farther from the lake, and the space in between trees and water was filled with big garden beds. As soon as I saw them, my body remembered the feeling of kneeling between the rows of our garden back home, pushing my fingers into the warm dirt to get at the roots of stubborn weeds. I felt homesickness tear through my body so hard it hurt.

  Finally, I let my mind go back to the question of home. How could I make everything right again? What would I have to do to get back there? I wasn’t sure if Hanna and the others were the only kids here, but what if they were? Did either of those boys seem like maybe they could be right for me? I pictured each of them, Ben so quiet with his cap of dark, shiny hair, and Will so golden but so pushy. Neither of them made me feel anything much, but I’d just barely met them. And there might be other boys my age that I hadn’t met yet and maybe some young men not so much older than me. I reminded myself that I had only been here a couple of days and that anything could happen. When I thought about how I couldn’t go home unless I found someone to have a baby with, I felt panic filling up my chest and making it hard to breathe. Even if I met a boy and we fell in love, why would he want to leave a place like this and go with me to Heavenly Shepherd, where there was just my little family and Papa Solomon ruled the roost? Somehow I hadn’t thought about that on my long walk to this place. I guess I couldn’t imagine what Lake Point would be like, so I didn’t understand why a person might not want to leave it.

  But when I thought about not going back at all, I felt homesick and lost. Everything I knew about myself was tied up with my family and the idea that I could keep it going. But already Heavenly Shepherd seemed smaller now, and sadder. There was something about Lake Point that felt hopeful, like it was filling up with life and people, while the compound was shrinking in on itself. I’d already stopped believing that my mother could help me, but maybe, over time, we could at least get to know each other. It was hard to imagine an explanation she could give that would make things right between us, but I still hoped she might have one. She was family, but not the family I knew and missed so hard it hurt. I’d thought I missed her all my life, but now I felt what it was to really miss the people you were used to seeing every day.

  I thought maybe I could send word back to Amber and find a way to bring her here. Ruth and Papa Solomon would never leave the compound, but my aunts and uncles might. But then what would happen to my poor grandparents? Everything they’d worked for would be gone. Could we rebuild our family here and leave the isolation of the compound behind? Could I start a new life that might include friends and maybe even start my own little family? I looked at the shiny surface of the big lake, with the sun shining off it in little rippling waves. There were so many things in the world that I had never seen and so I never knew to ask if they were possible, but now I was asking.

  Twelve

  I realized the sun would be going down before too long, and I had walked pretty far, so I started back. This time instead of going back through the woods, I kept closer to the lake. I made my way along to where the gardens were and studied the way someone had set up an irrigation system to pull water from the lake to the crops. On one row, a strawberry winked at me so red and pretty that I had to pluck it and pop it into my mouth. On another, okra plants were as tall as I was, and snap peas climbed their way to the top of each stalk. Tomorrow I would ask Helen if I could get on the schedule to work in the gardens. It would help the time pass while I waited for my mother to come back, and it would make me feel useful.

  By the time I made it back to the big patio behind the lodge, the sun was setting. From that angle it looked like a big fiery ball dropping right into the lake. I stood and watched it until the last burning edge disappeared into the water, then I turned around and noticed other, smaller fires burning here and there beyond the hard edge of the patio. It wasn’t cool enough for big fires, but small ones helped keep the mosquitoes away from the groups of people that still sat talking and laughing around them. I felt a shy quietness come over me as I looked at all those people again. Was I welcome in any of those circles? Was there a place for me at one of those little fires?

  Then I heard a sound that was not like anything I had ever heard before. There had been singing of hymns back home, so I knew that I was hearing music, but this music didn’t come from human throats. I followed it to one group around a fire at the far end from where I had been standing, and I saw that it came from a sort of curvy wooden box with a hole and strings across it and a long handle sticking up with the strings going all the way to the top. And this musical box was being cradled in the lap of a girl whose hands seemed to play the strings at both ends. She was looking at her hand at the top of the handle, and her hair fell across her face in a long, smooth sheet, black as a crow’s wing and shining in the light of the fire. Then she turned her face to look off into the darkness, and she started to sing.

  Come all ye fair and tender ladies

  Take warning how you court your men

  They’re like a star on a summer morning

  They first appear and then they’re gone

  A murmur rippled through the group around her, and she flashed a smile that was as bright as her hair was dark. Then she went on.

  They’ll tell to you some loving story

  And they’ll make you think that they love you well

  And away they’ll go and court some other

  And leave you there in grief to dwell

  This was not a song like any I had ever heard before, but somehow I could feel that it was old, old. Much older than the girl singing it, the words too full of knowing for someone so young. Her bright smile faded, and her voice cracked with sorrow on the next part.

  I wish I was on some t
all mountain

  Where the ivy rocks were black as ink

  I’d write a letter to my false true lover

  Whose cheeks are like the morning pink

  She looked into the fire as she sang, and her eyes reflected its light. But my eyes could not look away from her face, and my heart was fluttering in my chest. I felt like she was singing right to me.

  I wish I was a little sparrow

  And I had wings to fly so high

  I’d fly to the arms of my false true lover

  And when he’d ask, I would deny

  Oh love is handsome, love is charming

  And love is pretty while it’s new

  But love grows cold as love grows older

  And fades away like morning dew

  She repeated the last line twice and let it fade away a little more each time. Her hands strummed the strings like an echo of the echo of her voice, and then the song was done. Her friends around her clapped and whooped, and she flashed that smile again and laughed. A few people called out words, maybe the names of other songs they wanted to hear, and she fiddled with the little pegs at the top of the long handle for a minute. Then she tossed her hair back from her face, and her eyes lit on me. I felt frozen to the spot; I could no more have moved or spoken than I could fly away, which I started wishing I could do, just like the girl in the song. I felt my face get hot and was thankful I was outside the ring of faint light cast by the fire so she couldn’t see me turn red. Then someone beside her called out to me.

  “Ami! There you are. Come and sit by me.” It was Melissa, and she was smiling and waving me over. She scooted and made a place for me right between herself and the singing girl, and somehow this felt like the thing I wanted most in the world, and also the thing that would make me fall down dead right then and there. But I managed to walk over and sit, my face burning the whole time. I kept my eyes on the ground and hoped the darkness hid my crazy reaction to what was happening. I guessed it must have been the song, its words so sad and strange to me, but I knew that was only part of it.

  “Hey, Ami.” I looked up and saw Hanna sitting not far from me, and then Nina gave me a little wave from across the circle. I scanned the rest of the small group for Will and Ben but didn’t see either of them. Seeing those familiar faces helped me calm down a little, and I hoped my own face was returning to a normal color. Melissa gave me a friendly pat on the knee as she turned to the singer.

  “Jessie, this is Ami Miles. She’s visiting, got here yesterday.” The big smile changed then to a crooked grin as Jessie turned her body toward me a little. We were sitting so close that we couldn’t really face each other, but she still managed to give me a good looking over.

  “Ami Miles.” It was just my name, but she said it like it meant something else and gave a little nod like whatever those words meant, she approved. “I’m Jessie,” she said, then she turned her attention back to the pegs and strings. For some reason, I wanted that attention for myself, and before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.

  “What is that?” I asked. She looked back at me and made a face like she was confused, so I reached up and tapped the thing she held.

  “This? Why, Ami Miles, this here is a guitar! Ain’t you never seen a guitar before?” She sounded so surprised and amazed that I almost didn’t feel embarrassed over my ignorance. Almost. Before I could answer, Hanna spoke for me.

  “Ami’s been out there her whole life, Jessie, but just in one place. They don’t have guitars everywhere, looks like.” She offered me a reassuring smile.

  “Well, Ami, that makes me real sad. Did you have any kind of musical instruments at all?”

  “Just our mouths,” I said. I didn’t mean it funny, but she laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile and then laugh along with her.

  “Well, all right then, let’s hear you use it. That song was so sad I need cheerin’ up, so we’re gonna sing a fun one next. You’ll catch on quick, I promise.” Everyone in the circle seemed to know what song she would sing, because they all laughed and started to clap in time with each other before she even started to play. Jessie had the guitar propped on her knee, and her toe tapped out the rhythm.

  Gonna buy me a sack of flour

  Bake a hoecake ev’ry hour

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time, time, time

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time

  Everyone sang along on the chorus. Jessie smiled and strummed a little before the next verse, and everyone still clapped along or slapped a knee to keep time.

  Honey, if you say so

  I’ll never work no more

  I’ll lay around your shanty all the time, time, time

  Lay around your shanty all the time

  “Get ready, Ami. Skillet again. Come on now.”

  Got some chickens in my sack

  Got the bloodhounds on my track

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time, time, time

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time

  This time I joined in on the chorus. I felt shy and my voice wasn’t too loud, but I did it. I sang along, and my reward was that big, shining smile.

  If they beat me to the door

  I’ll sic ’em on the floor

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time, time, time

  Keep my skillet good and greasy all the time, time, time

  By then, I was singing and clapping right along with everyone, and I felt happy and light.

  Gonna buy me a jug of brandy

  Gonna give it all to Nancy

  Keep her good and drunk and goosey all the time, time, time

  Keep her good and drunk and goosey all the time, time, time

  Everyone laughed at poor Nancy, then we sang the skillet part one more time, and then it was over. There was more clapping and whooping, and Jessie went back to fiddling with the pegs. She must have seen me watching, because she answered the question I was thinking without looking away from what she was doing.

  “This tightens the strings. When they get loose, the guitar gets out of tune and then the notes don’t play true. This is a pretty old guitar, and she gets loose pretty quick, ’specially in the heat.”

  “Oh,” I said. I wished I knew something smart to say about guitars. Luckily I was saved by Nina.

  “‘Brown Girl!’” she called out. I was confused about why she would holler out those two words, but then others repeated the call and I understood that it must be the name of a song.

  “Dang, y’all don’t let it stay happy for long, do ya?” Jessie asked, but she was smiling, and right away she began to play the notes. I expected something slow and sad, but instead there was something a little dangerous and hard about the sounds coming from the strings. She looked straight into the fire and sang.

  I’m as brown as brown can be, my eyes are black as sloes

  I’m as brisk as a nighttime nightingale, as wild as the forest doe

  My love, he was high and proud, a fortune by his side

  But a fairer maiden than ever I’ll be he took to be his bride

  People shook their heads and made disapproving noises.

  He sent me a letter of love, he sent it from the town

  He wrote to tell me that his love was lost because I was so brown

  I sent back his letter of love, in anger I wrote down

  Your love is wasted on such as me because I am so brown

  “Tell ’em,” someone called out. But there was no clapping or laughing now. I felt the chills run up the back of my neck as I wondered what the brown girl would do next.

  I’ll dance upon your grave for twelve months and a day

  I’ll do as much for you as any maiden may

  I’ll make you rue the very day that you were born

  I’m a bonny brown girl

  Jessie glanced over at me and flashed the crooked grin.

  I heard not another word more until six months passed by

 
The doctor said he had a broken heart, without me he would die

  I went to his bedside, I walked and never ran

  I laughed so loud and then louder still, all at this lovesick man

  “I prithee forget,” said he, “I prithee forget and forgive

  Oh, grant to me just a little space that I may be well and live”

  I’ll dance upon your grave for twelve months and a day

  You’ll die for betraying a bonny brown girl all on one summer’s day

  All around the circle, people made sounds of approval at her cold anger. The song faded out and people clapped, but no one louder than Nina. I had noticed that she was not the only brown-skinned person at Lake Point and that once I looked, there was pale white, golden tan and just about everything in between. But still, I could see why Nina would like a song about a bonny brown girl. I wasn’t sure what bonny meant, but I guessed it was something good. Was the man in the song not brown like the girl, and that’s why he left her? Papa said it was a sin to mix the races, but I guess I’d never had much cause to think about what that really meant. The girl in the song had loved the man, but he broke her heart just because she was brown. That didn’t seem fair.

  Jessie laid the guitar flat across her lap like she was done playing, at least for the time being. All around the circle, people fell into easy conversations. Someone on the other side of Jessie was talking to her, and I felt strangely left out. But then Hanna and Nina came over to where Melissa and I were.