by Chris Vaughn
Jackie asked with a whisper, "Is that your room?"
"Shh... Yeah."
"I figured it was...."
"It is. His daddy and mama said they knew that Clevon didn't do anything to hurt that little girl, but someone called the police. It got late and the police came and asked for Clevon to come outside. When his mama and daddy were talking to the sheriff, they heard something but were talking outside and Uncle Frank said they didn't notice it. When they went upstairs, they found that Clevon had hanged himself and the chair had been knocked over."
Jackie made a gasp. "He died in your room? I wouldn’t want to sleep in there."
"Well, I will. I'm not afraid."
"Why not?"
"Cause I talk to Clevon, well that's what I'm going to call him now. I talk to the one who knocks the chair over, and now I know it's Clevon, and he likes me. One night when I prayed, I asked him to make the chair fall over later, and it did."
Jackie gasped again, with fear and awe in her voice. "You ain't scared? Really?"
"No. They say he didn't hurt no one when he was alive, and I know he won't hurt me even though he's dead."
"Joy, I don't think we should be talking to no dead man."
Joy looked at Jackie and reassured her, "Well, I'm not scared. Besides, I know he's there. He's been there during the daytime too."
Chapter 8
Daddy had taken a bad stroke of luck in the last few days. He worked occasionally at a local pulpwood mill to make the extra money the family needed to live. Buddy Hand was a hard worker, and worked in hard places, but sometimes a man in the South had to work even harder than he could in places that weren't forgiving. Pulpwood mills were one of the roughest; not because of the people but the work. Daddy had often told the story of the pulpwood truck that lost its load of wood right in front of him. One of his best friends had been working to tighten up the load and the wood had crushed him when it rolled off the truck. Joy watched her daddy tear up often when he talked of seeing his friend’s brains splattered on his boots, with him inches away from dying himself.
Fortunately this week, Daddy hadn't seen anyone die, but he nearly had. He had been assigned to the saw crew. Joy's daddy always said saw work wasn't for the timid but for the straight of heart and hand; you had to be willing to move to make that lumber move. On this day, Buddy Hand hadn't moved quickly enough.
"Mama, is daddy going to be okay."
"Yeah, child, he's okay. He's just came home early."
Strange how parents act as if a ten-year-old doesn't realize what is happening, but a bloody bandage on her daddy's hand told her more than she wanted to know. "Why did we have to go pick him up at the Hospital?" Joy asked with a worried look.
Her Mama sat down on the front steps with her and said, "Well, he had an accident today at the mill. His hand got caught in the saw blade, it cut off one of his fingers."
"Mama, Daddy lost his finger? Can they sew it back on?" Joy quizzed her mother.
"Yes, baby, they tried to find it so maybe they could, but they couldn't find it, so they took him to the hospital and sewed it up. He didn't lose his entire finger, just above the middle knuckle, and we're thankful he didn't get hurt more. Now, when he wakes up, you don't make a big thing out of it. He'll show it to you when he's ready, you hear me now?"
"Is that why he's in the bed?" Joy asked.
"That's why. Doctor said he should rest the remainder of the day ‘cause he lost some blood. So I put him in the bed, and he's listening to the radio. We've got to go take him dinner in a bit, and you can go in later and cheer him up."
"I'd like that, Mama."
"Well, let’s go inside and finish up dinner." Mama stood up and took Joy by the hand and they walked together into the house and to the kitchen. Joy began to set the table and mama finished up cooking the greens and beans that the family ate so often during hard times.
"I tell you what, dear, let me check on Daddy and you finish up setting the table for us to eat in here."
Joy hated that tonight Jackie wasn't eating dinner with her, or she with them, but the parents had put their foot down and decided that the girls had to get back to some routine and so they wouldn't wear out their friendship. Plus both of the mama's said they needed a break and joked that they could swap children for that matter if they needed to.
Joy worked placing the forks, spoons, and knives in the right place, or as best as a child could do. Mama walked in and said quietly, "Let's just you and I eat in here tonight, just the two of us."
"What is it, Mama?"
"Nothing, Joy, just that Daddy's sleepin' good and I thought we'd just let him sleep."
"Is Daddy okay, Mama?'
"Yeah, baby. Daddy's okay. Let's fix our plates and we can eat, then fix Daddy a plate later."
Mama and Joy took their time fixing their plates." Mary Hand scooped out their greens and beans as Joy got busy and got her biscuit fixed. Before they were even finished, Joy interrupted, "Mama, where is Uncle Frank?"
Mama stiffened up a bit as she answered, "He's out working in the fields, or somewhere."
"He's not eating with us tonight?"
"No, baby. I told Daddy I didn't want him to eat with us unless he was here with us. Uncle Frank can be a bit unpredictable."
Mama and Joy were almost finished with getting their plates ready. The sun bounced through the windows and it was the only thing that bounced, as there wasn't a breeze in the air, as much as everyone would want.
"Mama, can I say grace?"
"Go ahead." Mama and Joy bowed their heads and placed their hands together.
"God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food. By His hands we are fed, give us, Lord, our daily bread. God Bless Mama, Daddy, Jackie, Mr. and Mrs. Fryar. Amen."
"Amen."
Joy interrupted her mama's amening, "Wait, Mama, I forgot someone, and God bless Mr. Clevon too."
"Joy, who is Clevon?" Mama asked as she picked her fork up.
"Uncle Frank said he's the man who died in my room."
Joy's mama dropped her fork on the table, and the sound made Joy jump, "You okay, Mama?"
"Baby, I don't want you listening to Uncle Frank. He's full of nothing but foolishness and lies."
"Well, I like calling him Mr. Clevon. I think he's the one who knocks the chair over in my room at night. Don't worry, Mama, he won't hurt us."
Mary still hadn't started to eat yet, although Joy had begun with her full fervor. "Joy, I don't like you talking like this. Now let's stop talking like this and eat."
"Yes, ma’am."
Joy and her mama sat quietly and ate in the still house. Joy and her mama started as they both looked up to the sound they heard. Something had moved or bounced on the porch. The sounds of a creaking board and a shuffle was faint but there wasn't anything distinct.
"Joy, let's eat, that's just a dog or something on the porch."
They both went back to eating and the silence was again stilled as the sound of another creak took place followed by another creak; those creaks were followed by the slow creak as the screened door sounded as it was opened, and then slowly closed.
"Frank, if that's you playing games, I'll get my rolling pin out again." Mary's comment made Joy grin as she chewed the food that was in her mouth, although she wasn’t taking another bite. Mary stood and got her rolling pin and sat back down quickly at the table with Joy.
Steps that were slow and light made their way down the shotgun house's hall. Soft steps that passed the bedroom and living room and towards the kitchen.
"Jackie? Clementine? Is that you?"
The steps, although soft, got louder as they came to the door of the kitchen and paused but then continued down the hall. Joy and her mama just listened as the steps kept the same pace and sound down the hall. The steps began to become faint as they approached the back door and Joy and her mama strained to hear as the sound of the back screened door slowly opened, and then shut was quiet but still a noise.
"J
esus, Jesus, Jesus. Help us, Jesus," Mary let the words flow off of her lips.
"Mama, what was that?"
"I don't know, baby, but let's not tell your daddy."
"Why not?"
"Because it will make him worry. God in heaven what was that?" Mary Hand stared at the door of the kitchen as if she was watched and expected the steps to return.
"Mama, have you ever heard this before?"
"No, Joy, I haven't. I don't know what it is."
"Could it be Mr. Clevon, Mama?"
Mary placed her hand on Joy's face and pulled her close to her chest, and sweetly kissed her head. "Baby, don’t talk about such like that. We are going to be all right. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus."
"I know, Mama. Jesus takes care of us don't he?"
"Yes, he does." Mary Hand was still holding Joy close to her but had her eyes fixed on the door.
"Know what I think, Mama?"
"What, baby?"
"I think that was Mr. Clevon checking on us." Joy pulled herself away from her mama and went back to eating as her mama slowly started to eat again, but she glanced at the hallway every so often. The steps in the house happened every now and then, but only Joy and her mama were the only ones who ever heard it. Joy had been told by her mama not to tell anyone.
"Now don't you go tellin' people strange things that happen, you hear me? No one."
"Yes, Mama."
Joy didn't tell anyone. Not just anyone; she only told Jackie.
Chapter 9
Joy's daddy had been gone for a few days and the house had been quiet and calm except for the girl’s laughter and playing. As usual this year, they had bounced back and forth from one house to another and to the fields that their fathers worked. Each place had a theme and a game. Fields were for battles of cowboys and Indians like they saw in the movies in the balcony. Joy sat in the balcony with Jackie as she couldn't sit downstairs with the white folks.
The barns were for playing house or school, or better yet church. The creek was where they would play in the water and baptize their dolls into the saving knowledge of Jesus Christ. Each place for them was an adventure; for their parents, each day was a day of toil and work.
Buddy Hand had lived a hard life of poverty and struggle wrapped in a few good times of happiness and luck. The search for those days of luck, which occasionally paid off for the family, often took him out of town, or out of the county in search of a poker or craps game where easy money could be won or lost.
Joy, and Mary too, had expected another one of daddy's business trips to come up soon as daddy had been saying a lot lately, "Girl, we don't have any money for such as that." Joy knew too well that this code between he and mama was the quiet conversation of lack that they had been accustomed to, and even more so since the fire.
"I got word from Daddy last night, Joy, he should be home today sometime," Mary told Joy at breakfast.
"Really, Mama?"
"Yeah, and he said he had a good surprise for us too." Mary grinned at Joy as she started to clean the kitchen up with her usual habit. She turned to ask Joy to help her pick up her dishes, but she had already left the kitchen and taken her place and perch in the living room or on the porch. Joy was now in ‘lookout’ mode. Those were the last words that Mary had spoken to her daughter that morning as Joy began her long day to pace and watch for her Daddy to drive up.
Morning came and went and was followed by the heat of the sun and the stillness of the afternoon heat. Fans blew that hot air from one room to the outside of a hotter world. Joy had fallen asleep in the living room on the old couch under the squeak of the window fan that worked hard to move the hot air around. Mary walked in and saw her lying there peaceful.
"Well, I guess I can go outside and take care of a few chores before Buddy gets home." Mary walked out to the barn to feed the few animals they had, especially the cow and chickens. She walked across the yard and into the barn and the coolness of the shade of the barn was still not enough to calm the overpowering smell of hot manure in the summertime. Buddy's got to clean this barn out when he gets home. Mary set herself to work in the barn with the quietness of the cow and chickens.
Minutes passed with Mary in the barn and beyond taking care of the animals as Joy was lying on the couch. Mary couldn't hear the footsteps on the back porch steps, or the sound of the back door as it opened. As the footsteps got closer, Joy shifted on the couch as she lay in a spot of her own sweat as the heat rolled through the room. Steps that had been distant down the hall got closer until they were closer still to the door of the living room; the closeness caused Joy to open her eyes and listen. Thoughts ran through her mind and she remembered the strange day of steps and doors that opened without anyone in the house. She opened her eyes and looked up.
To herself she whispered, "I'll see Mr. Clevon this time."
A step and pause were followed by a step and pause by another step and pause. Joy was never aware of the heat or the sweat or the wetness of her clothes against her.
"Mr. Clevon?" Joy said is a low voice to the doorway. She didn't expect a response but shook when she heard.
"Joy." The voice was deep and dark and had the bellows of a train whistle. "Joy."
"Mr. Clevon?" Joy said as she sat up.
The voice behind the doorframe let out a laugh followed by a "Boo" as Uncle Frank poked his head around the door jam.
The site of Uncle Frank caused Joy to let out a shriek, not one of fear for him but the fear of the unknown.
"Uncle Frank!"
"What's with you, Joy?" Uncle Frank walked over to Joy and peered down at the prepubescent girl who was sitting on the couch. "What did you call me?"
"It doesn't matter, Uncle Frank. You scared me, I was asleep."
"I can tell, you called me Mr. Clevon, girl. Now why would you call me the name of a dead man?" Frank leaned his right hand against the top of the couch and crowded into Joy’s space on the couch. Joy scooted back a few inches as she sat up.
"Uh, uh, I was dreaming, Uncle Frank." Joy said with a hesitation that spoke of her uncertainty of what she said or what to say.
Uncle Frank had drank a few this day, but not as many as the day he first arrived. He and Joy talked a few moments as he ran his hands up and down the couch beside her legs. Each stroke of his hand got ever longer and closer and more personal. Joy scooted again and pulled her legs under her dress to restrict Uncle Frank's hands.
"I need to go to my room, Uncle Frank."
"Joy, I like spending time with you. Don't you like spending time with me, Joy? This is Uncle Frank." Frank moved closer to Joy as he placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Uncle Frank, I want to go to my room."
Frank looked around the room as if he wanted to make sure no one saw what he was thinking. He took a moment and stared at Joy and the little girl that she was. Men like Frank didn't care what the age girls were; they just cared about what they wanted to take. Liquor can be a powerful intoxicant, and the worst parts of a man that are the hidden areas of inhibition could be unleashed on the innocent in that moment of intoxication and unrestraint. Joy pulled back and started to stand.
"Uncle Frank, I don't like this. I want my mama."
"Where is your mama, Joy?" Frank looked around as he asked.
"She must be in the kitchen. Mama!" Joy shouted to the lonely house.
"No, she ain't in no kitchen."
"Mama! I know she's here somewhere. I want up, Uncle Frank."
Frank placed his hand on Joy's ankle and began to work and play to get her leg out from under her dress. Joy trembled as Frank shook with terror at the sound of footsteps coming up the steps, and the deep voice of Buddy Hand as it bellowed out, "Mama! Joy! I'm home!"
Before the word ‘home’ had come out of Buddy's mouth, Joy had jerked herself away and was up at the door. Frank stood and moved to the farthest place in the room away from the couch to place as much distance between him and the couch. The timing of Joy's dad couldn't have been more perfect. Joy'
s innocence was protected although Frank's intentions were hidden.
Joy jumped into her daddy's arms as he pulled the screened door open. "My baby Joy! How's my girl?" Buddy squeezed Joy and kissed her cheek. Only then did he catch a glimpse of Frank in the living room.
"Frank, what the hell are you doing here and not working in my field like I'm paying you for!"
"Oh, Buddy." Frank said with the voice of a boy with his hand in a cookie jar, "I came to the house to get something to eat. I thought you might be back."
Buddy Hand's eyes drilled a hole into Frank's soul as Buddy patted Joy's head. "Frank, I think I'm right about this but if not, you need it. Go out to the barn and sleep it off."
"Okay, Buddy. I'll go sleep it off, but I ain't drunk now mind you." Frank walked around Buddy and out the door and down the steps with his head hung low. As Joy and Buddy went to the kitchen to get Buddy something to drink, Frank walked out to the barn. The door swung open as he got to within about twelve feet of the barn. The squeak of the hinges spooked Frank and he looked up. The sight of Mary Hand sent chills down his back and instinct caused him to place his hand on his head as he stood still.
"Frank." Mary said with a stern voice of disdain.
"Mary,” Frank stuttered out as he watched Mary. His eyes darted about as he looked at Mary's hands.
Mary Hand swung her hand up fast and quick as if she were holding something. The movement so frightened Frank he slunked down to duck whatever might come his way. He fell to his knees as he expected to fall to them anyway from whatever blow Mary's rolling pin gave him.
"You stay down, Frank." Mary never stopped and walked passed Frank as he squatted in the dirt and waited for the sounds of her footsteps to disappear into the house. When he heard the shrieks of Mary and heard the sounds of Mary, Buddy, and Joy as they talked in the distance he stood and slowly walked into the barn storage room to sleep. Frank Little kept his hand on his head just in case Mary Hand came back into the feed room.
Chapter 10
