What Momma Left Behind

by Cindy K. Sproles

  He stared at his feet. “I know.”

  “You’ve been dry for a spell now. I reckon you’re past longin for the taste, so we just have to keep it away.”

  Justice patted my back. “Ain’t you all grown up? Momma would be proud.”

  I gasped. “What do you mean, Momma would be proud?”

  “I heard Calvin and the sheriff talkin. I know Momma is dead.”

  It took a minute. My mind was sortin through all that had happened and the pieces wasn’t fittin. This was the second time Calvin’s knowin things that he ought not know had come to mind. The first was when he busted in the cabin, lookin for Momma’s jar.

  “What do you mean you heard Calvin talkin to the sheriff?”

  Justice snapped a twig off a dead limb. “Back at the jail. He thought I was passed out. But I wasn’t.”

  “How could Calvin know Momma was dead? He wasn’t nowhere to be found. It took me and Ely to bury her cause you two was gone.”

  “I reckon he saw.”

  “Saw what? What exactly did he see?” I felt my blood boil. Calvin had been on the farm? Did he see Momma take her life and do nothin to stop it? I squeezed my fingers into my palms, the nails burrowin into the flesh.

  Justice slid down and sit on a rock. “Worie, I don’t know what all he saw or didn’t. You know Calvin. He ain’t nothing but a liar. A body never knows what’s the truth or not.”

  I pulled my bag from over my shoulder and untied the strings. “Look at this.” I dumped my belongins onto the ground. I unrolled the wet skirt I’d rinsed at John’s forge. The small jar rolled onto the ground. “This is what he wants.”

  Justice twisted the jar, swirling around the notes and coins. He commenced to laugh. “Why in heaven’s name would he want a jar with paper and coins? That don’t come close to makin sense. Even for Calvin.”

  I took the jar and twisted it open. The three coins and tiny satin bag dropped into Justice’s hand. “He come to me right after Momma died and demanded this jar. Momma showed me where she hid it before she died, but I couldn’t see no reason why it was special to her. These papers is just notes along with Scriptures from the good book. And them three coins wouldn’t buy much more than a bag of flour and sugar.” I slipped them back in the jar.

  “What was that idiot thinkin?”

  “I reckon he thought Momma had hid away money from her cannin. He wanted the money.”

  Justice roared. He slapped his leg. “That idiot. You shoulda just give him the jar. They ain’t nothing worth anything in it.”

  I yanked the satin bag from his hand and opened it. A small red stone glistened in the sun. “Momma told me Mamaw give her this stone.”

  “Can’t see it’s much. You?” He eyed the tiny rock.

  “It means something or Momma wouldn’t have kept it hid away.”

  “Fact is, Worie, Calvin gets something in his mind, and betwixt the greed and selfishness, he conjures such lies that even he believes them.”

  I dropped the stone into the bag and added it to the jar, then twisted the lid tight.

  “What’s them notes?”

  I loosed the lid again and pulled them out. Momma had pushed holes through the pages and tied twine through them. Unrollin them, I sat next to Justice and leaned my head on his shoulder. “She writes real purty, don’t she?”

  I leaned my face upward to the sun that peeked through the pines. My skin grew warm. A hawk soared in and out of the trees, callin to clouds as they passed.

  Justice pressed his finger to his lips. “See that chipmunk yonder?”

  I nodded.

  He lifted his finger toward the sky. “Ain’t that hawk a beautiful thing?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Even in its beauty, it’s a dangerous thing.”

  The bird swooped through the trees and snatched the chipmunk from the ground, lifting it high into the sky. It squealed once.

  “The hawk, as beautiful as it is, does what it must to survive. And you must do the same.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  Me and Justice rested a spell while Sally grazed. I went to tellin him about them youngins showin up one after the other.

  “It was like Momma was sending them to me. I didn’t have no choice, Justice. Somebody had to give them children a reason to live.”

  He chewed on a teaberry leaf. “I ain’t never been one on believin the dead send us signs. And you shouldn’t either. Good book says, ‘And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.’” He pointed to Momma’s Bible dumped in the pile of belongins. “Momma had it marked. Look for yourself.”

  “Since when did you become so smart on the good book?”

  “Worie, we was both raised by the same woman. Momma never hesitated teachin from the good book.”

  He was right. Momma held tight to the good book. She said it was the best readin book anywhere. I reached to the pile of things and took hold of it. I flipped the pages, payin attention to all her writin.

  “So if you don’t believe Momma was sendin me them youngins, what do you believe?”

  “Well, seems to me Momma had a love for helpin those in need. Just appears to me her work caught up to you. A body can’t start fillin needs and then expect the needs to stop just cause they can’t do it no more.”

  “But . . . I . . . I . . .”

  “You what, Worie? You took them children in because that’s your heart. It’s who you are. You coulda turned them away. Not a soul forced you to take them in.”

  I pulled Momma’s Bible to my chest and squeezed. Tears commenced to raise.

  “Them little ones come to you because Momma started carin for them. You ain’t the kind of folk who would turn them away. So you do what you must.” Justice put his arm around me and pulled me close. “I ain’t nothin but a drunk. But you, little lady. You are Momma made over, and that ain’t nothing but good.”

  I crawled to my feet and moseyed into the weeds. The floor of the woods was soft, covered in a spongy green rug of moss. Weeds poked out like loose hairs in a braid. Ferns jutted in bundles around the bases of elm and oak trees. When I looked up, the limbs reached across the faded path like a momma stretchin her arms to her child. Their branches intertwined like fingers. For a moment, there was a peace in my soul. The rains had left a sweet scent to take in. Things was washed clean for a time.

  I twisted around. Justice sat leaned against the downed tree, his knees bent and his hands restin over them. His head bobbed like a hen pickin at the ground. A long sob poured outta him, and my heart broke into pieces. This man, this gentle man, sat wailin—grievin. I wasn’t sure if I should just let him be or take him in my arms, but when a second sob seeped out, I rushed to him and pulled him close to me. I found myself pressing my palm over his cheek, just like Momma. Maybe I was like her and I didn’t know it.

  I’d cried over Momma, but as I stepped back to look over the last few weeks, I realized my tears was tears of selfishness. I’d grieved the loss of what I’d miss from Momma. The things I’d not have. Her teachin me to read better and better. To write. Her providin a good home despite the little we had.

  But Justice, he grieved Momma. His cries was deep and broken. He suffered the pain of knowing he’d disappointed her.

  I lifted his chin and looked him in the eyes. “They’s so much more to you, Justice. The liquor covers what you hide deep inside. What I know is, there is a man inside you bigger and better than any man, outside of Daddy, that I know. Momma is proud of you too. And me and you . . .” I stood and pulled him to his feet. “Me and you will find a way to fix this mess.”

  Justice pressed his bear-sized hand against the side of my face. “Where we headin?”

  “Ely and Bess’s. Two of them youngins, Abeleen and Doanie, are there. There’s a field to plant, a home to be made with them. Work will help us figure.”

  He rounded up
Sally and climbed into the saddle, then lifted me up. Justice kneed the old mare, and she took to steppin right gentle over the rocks in the path.

  “Don’t guess you know what happened to the pastor, do you? I thought he was behind us.” Justice twisted in the saddle and looked behind us.

  “I saw him nod and take a turn toward the Bentons’ farm. Guess he had some visits to make.”

  “Don’t reckon you got any biscuits in that mess of stuff of yours?” Justice asked.

  “Biscuit? You hungry?”

  “Ain’t you?”

  I pressed my forehead into his back. “Reckon I am. Maybe we’ll run upon a plum tree.”

  Justice pushed his hair back with his hat and went to singin. Daddy used to sing like that, and Momma would whisper to me that his noise made her ears bleed. Then she’d grin a big ole grin.

  “That a two-part harmony you’re singin?” I asked Justice.

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “You can leave my part out.”

  Justice broke into a hearty laugh. After all them sobs, hearin his laughter was wonderful.

  It only took a minute before I noticed he sat straight in the saddle. His shoulders was back and his chest was out. Ever note he sung give a newness to him. I reached my arms around my brother’s waist and rested my face against his back. His shirt was damp from the rain dripping from the trees.

  We passed through the forest and onto the mountain pass toward Ely’s, the path slim and rocky. To the right small trees jutted from the side of the pass, and to the left, nothin but the sky lined with shadows of the mountains in the distance. A cloud passed by, coverin us in a white fog, and a soft breeze whistled by. It was like it was speakin to my soul. You’ll be alright. Trust.

  “Did you hear that?” I asked.

  “Hear what? Birds, deer? Bear?”

  “That whisper.”

  Justice shook his head. “Only whisper I hear is the breeze.”

  I squeezed him tight. “Yeah. That one.”

  That’s when I got that gut feelin again. Like somebody was watchin, and the peace I had turned to fear.

  The sway of Sally’s steps lulled me to sleep against Justice’s back. When I woke up we was just down the path from Ely’s. I raised up in the saddle and saw Abeleen hunkered over a tomato plant. Ole Hooch was sittin right next to her like he was posted to guard her. He come to his feet and barreled his way toward us, howlin like nobody’s brother.

  Justice swung his leg over the saddle and helped me down. We’d only been gone a while, but it felt like I’d been gone for years.

  Abeleen come runnin, squealin at Doanie. “Worie!” she hollered. “Ely! Miss Bess! It’s Worie!” Her curls bounced in the air as she run at me. She leaped into my arms and wrapped her legs around me, sendin us both to the ground. Feelin that child in my arms was like she’d always been there. Doanie landed on top and the three of us giggled and rolled in the grass. Once we’d settled a bit I took Doanie’s face in my hands and looked eye to eye with her.

  “Don’t say nothin, Miss Worie.” She shook her head hard. “You did what you could. I didn’t rightly figure you’d turn up my brother and sister.” She smiled a toothless grin.

  “You lost a tooth.” I twisted her head from side to side, eyein her mouth.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “That makes you a step closer to bein a woman. Let me count how many you got left to lose.”

  She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “The sheriff wouldn’t tell me where T. J. and Farrell are. He had everthing in an envelope that he wouldn’t open.” I loosened my shirttail from my waist and pulled out the paper holder.

  “Miss Worie! Did you take that?” Abeleen asked.

  Justice went to laughin. “You’re a sneaky one. That what you was doin while you was standin him down?”

  I nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me on the way here?” he asked.

  “I wanted to save it as a surprise.”

  Ely pulled me to my feet. “So you took what didn’t belong to you?” His eyes poured disappointment.

  “I did what I had to do to get them babies back.”

  “Wrong don’t right wrong.” He took my hand in his and pulled it to his lips.

  “Ely, I thought you would be happy. This is the only way we can find them children.” I waved the envelope at him.

  He turned toward the barn, then threw me a backward wave as he walked away.

  “Ely?” I grabbed at his arm. “Wait up.”

  “Me and Bess has made you a place to stay in the barn. Justice, you’ll have to make your bed in the hayloft. That alright?”

  “Ely! Don’t walk away from me. I needed to take this to find out where T. J. and Farrell is.”

  “Stealin is stealin, Miss Worie. You mighta just ask an old man if he had any thoughts.”

  “You didn’t know where they were!”

  “No. I didn’t. But you mighta asked. Mighta found out I had some thoughts.”

  I stood stunned. Ely never let on like he had any ideas where them children was taken. “Justice, what do you reckon?”

  “I reckon you was pretty clever. But Ely walks the straight and narrow. I don’t guess they’s no bendin the rules for him.”

  I hugged the girls again and sent them back to their chores. Ely turned the corner toward the barn and I took to runnin to catch up, the bag over my shoulder bouncing against my side. He pulled open the barn door.

  I pushed back the tears. No one had ever done nothing any kinder. It was just like Ely to try his best to make a rough time easier. Him and Miss Bess had managed to get them beds the pastor built from my barn and dragged them into their own barn. It took Bess a day or so, but she managed to sew a few of Mrs. Whitefield’s quilts together and stuff them with hay so the beds was soft. Momma’s quilts was folded neatly at the end of each bed. T. J.’s spot harbored them rails to keep him from fallin out, and in the corner was the hand-stitched toy his momma had made.

  I walked along the beds, rubbin my hands over them. Tears trickled. “These is wonderful, Ely. I never had nothin so nice before.”

  “The pastor built the beds. Me and Bess just made them something worth usin. Speakin of the pastor. Where is he?”

  “Ain’t right sure. I left him and Trigger standin outside the sheriff’s office. The pastor followed but turned up to the Bentons’ place.”

  “Trigger? You saw Trigger? I bet that drug up some memories.”

  “It was right uncomfortable, if that is what you’re gettin at. But I was nice.”

  Ely pulled the rocker we’d took from the Whitefields next to a pile of hay. “Tell me your reasonin for becomin a thief. And do you suppose Trigger would approve of you stealin?”

  His words hit like a slap in the face. As much as I tried to understand why he was so blasted upset over me takin them papers, it was hard. And his nosin about Trigger was about more than I could swallow.

  “Well, first off, it don’t matter what Trigger thinks, and second, I went up against that bullheaded sheriff. The fool.” I felt my anger toward the sheriff rise to the surface all over again. “Ely, he taunted me. Showed me this envelope and taunted me like a schoolyard bully danglin a piece of candy over my head.” I inched off the hay and sat at his feet. “You know I have always tried to do what was right. But hard times calls for harder measures. When I stood to face the sheriff, I just eased it under my shirt.” I dropped the envelope at Ely’s feet. “Truth is, as cocky as the man was, it was almost like he left the fruit to be picked. So I picked it.”

  Ely scratched his chin. The bristly sound of rough whiskers reminded me of Daddy.

  “You’re tellin me that the sin of Eve was really a gift from the good Lord.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Ely shamed me ever time I tried to justify my actions.

  Bess wandered into the barn, waggin her finger from side to side. “Ely, I heard that, and they ain’t a person alive what ain’t sinned. You included.” Sh
e rested her hands on his shoulders. “I’s remember two young black people tyin up a watchman so’s they could slip out and run for the Mississippi River.” Bess leaned close to Ely and kissed his cheek. “Reckon them sinners repented and the good Lord blessed them with friends like the Dressars. A home. And now the sweet voices of laughin children. Somethin we ain’t never had.”

  Ely bowed his head. His fingers tapped on the arm of the rocker. A body could see his ponderin on Bess’s words.

  “The Lord ain’t no more pleased with a self-righteous man than He is a thief.” He smiled and picked up the envelope.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTEEN

  I spied Doanie out of the corner of my eye, peekin around the barn door, cranin her neck to hear what was bein said. “Get in here, child. I got something for you to see.” I know she was curious as a cat to know what was in the envelope. “You’re gonna crack your neck if you keep bendin it like that.” I motioned her to my side.

  Doanie took to runnin as hard as she could into the barn.

  “I got no idea what is in this envelope, if’n they is anything. You understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Ely, will you cut that open with your knife?”

  I could tell he still struggled with me takin the envelope, but he inched his hand into the top pocket of his overalls and pulled out a blade.

  Abeleen came in and eased next to Ely. Her finger stretched toward the knife. “My daddy made that knife. I see his mark.” She could hardly spit out the words, and they hung in the air.

  “John was a gifted man. I reckon most folks got pieces of his work in hand.” Ely reached around and hugged her. “Yep, gifted indeed.” He handed Abeleen the knife.

  She slowly twisted it, lookin over its cover. Her daddy had taught her how to judge work. The tips of her fingers clasped hold of the small knife and pulled the blade free from its sheath. She wrapped her hand gingerly around the blade and handed it, handle first, back to Ely.

  “It’s a good blade,” she said. “Daddy didn’t put his mark on something that wasn’t good.”

  “That it is.” And with that, Ely slipped the knife into the envelope. His pull was swift and it sliced with ease. He swiped the blade twice on the leg of his overalls and slipped it back into its cover. “Bess, can you take this for me?”