by Joy Redmond
Mean Jim put his arm around her shoulder, and said, “No, honey. The redness will fade with time, and you’ll hardly be able to see the scars. It’s like when you scrape your knee. It scabs, heals, stays pink for a little while, then fades to white.” Jim’s voice carried great compassion. He smiled, showing a straight row of white teeth. He had a dimple in his left cheek and a twinkle in his eyes.
Mean Jim didn’t seem mean now, and Carnikko wondered if she had misjudged him. She sat up, swung her body around on the table, and her legs stuck straight out. She attempted to bend her knees, but sharp pains shot through her. She looked at Jim with stark terror in her eyes. “Are my legs going to stick out like pokers for the rest of my life? How am I supposed to walk?”
Jim patted Carnikko’s shoulder, smiled, and said, “Your legs have been in a horizontal position for several months. They’re stiff, and it’ll take some time before you can bend the knees. I’m going to show you some exercises you need to do every day, then one day, soon, they’ll bend and you can walk again.”
“Okay,” Carnikko meekly said.
Jim raised his pant leg. “Now watch closely. Watch my kneecap.” Jim flexed his kneecap up and down. “Watch again, closely.” Jim repeated the exercise. “Now, you try it.”
Carnikko tried, but her kneecap didn’t move up and down.
Jim stood beside Carnikko. “Watch again,” he said, and he flexed and coaxed.
After the third try, Carnikko flexed her right kneecap up and down, twice. “It feels funny,” she said, smiling, proud of herself.
Aunt Lou stood beside Jim. “Let me try that,” she said, raising her skirt hem. Aunt Lou flexed her kneecap up and down, faster and faster. “That’s easy. I’ll do them with you. Maybe it’ll work some fat off my knees.” Aunt Lou laughed, the gleeful laugh that made Carnikko feel happy inside.
“Aunt Lou, yer bein' silly. If ya worked off fat, ya’d look like ya were standin' on toothpicks.”
“I thought you’d think that was funny,” Aunt Lou said. Then she looked at Jim and asked, “Since she can’t walk yet, can I borrow the wheelchair for a bit longer?”
“Sure, keep it as long as needed,” Jim answered. He lifted Carnikko off the bench. “Push it over here, and I’ll put her in it.”
Carnikko sat in the wheelchair, her head hung, her arms crossed, her bottom lip protruding. “This is terrible! It ain’t fair!” she wailed.
“Honey if you want fair, you’ll have to go to a carnival. There isn’t much in life that’s fair,” Aunt Lou said, pushing the wheelchair down the hospital halls.
As Aunt Lou pushed the wheelchair to the front entrance, Carnikko’s thoughts were running amuck, as usual. Someday she was going to chop up the wheelchair the way Grandpa chopped kindling. Then she was going to build a bonfire and watch the wretched thing go up in flames.
Carnikko sucked in a breath, wondering if she had spoken her thoughts aloud like Daddy often did. Since Aunt Lou didn’t say anything, she figured she’d kept her plans inside her head. Another secret.
Carnikko started the exercises as soon as they got home, determined she’d walk the next day. It didn’t happen.
Two weeks later, she could bend her knees all the way. She was in the living room and Aunt Lou was in the kitchen, so she decided to try her luck. She scooted to the edge of the wheelchair, pushed on the arm bars, and stood.
She tried to move her right foot in front of the left one. It wouldn’t go. She tried to move the left foot in front of the right. No luck. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, waddled back and forth, and inched her way a few feet. “I did it! Aunt Lou, I walked!” Carnikko yelled in a high-pitched voice loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
Aunt Lou came running into the living room. “What are you yelling about—?” Then her eyes widened, she smiled, and said, “Well, look at you. I knew you could do it. Just wait until Uncle Carl sees this.” Aunt Lou walked to Carnikko’s side and patting the child’s back, she said, “Congratulations!”
“I ain’t ever gonna stop walkin'! Ever!” Carnikko said, and she continued her waddle through the house. Her legs ached, but she was on a long-awaited journey, so back and forth she went.
A few times, Carnikko lost her balance and fell, but she was undaunted. She crawled to a piece of furniture, pulled herself up, and started again. Eventually, the aching forced her to take a break. She sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing her thighs. She was startled when Mammaw came through the front door.
“Hi, sweetie. How ya doin'?” Mammaw asked.
“I’m doin' great, Mammaw! Looky here,” Carnikko said, as she pushed herself up, and inched her way across the floor. She only made it a few feet, then fell.
Mammaw instinctively headed toward Carnikko, then stopped, and said, “No, I can’t pick ya up. Ya hafta do it ya’self. Get back up and try again, honey,” she coaxed, biting her bottom lip as she watched her granddaughter struggle.
Carnikko replied in a cheery voice, “I don’t need help. I’ve been fallin' all day.” She crawled to the end of the couch, pulled herself up, determined to make it all the way across the floor and show off for Mammaw.
“That’s right, honey. It don’t matter how many times ya get knocked down in life, it’s how many times ya get up that counts,” Mammaw answered, clapping as if she were a cheerleader.
Finally, Carnikko felt drained and decided to take a nap. Mammaw helped her hold her balance as she waddled into the bedroom. She stretched out on the bed, closed her eyes, and deeply sighed, so tired. Mammaw smiled, kissed Carnikko’s cheek, and left the room.
Suddenly, Carnikko was running through the woods behind the shotgun house. She stopped and put clover on Piggy’s grave. She ran toward the house, faster than the wind. She ran to the well, dropped the bucket, heard it hit the water, drew it to the top and drank the cool, refreshing water straight from the bucket, and a few drops trickled down her chin.
A loud slam startled her. Then she heard Uncle Carl’s voice. She sat up, swung her legs off the bed, and yelled, “Uncle Carl, come here!”
Uncle Carl came into the bedroom, his eyes bright and his smile broad. “What are you so excited about?” he asked.
Carnikko pushed off the bed and stood. “Watch me,” she said. She waddled a few feet and fell. Uncle Carl headed toward her, his arms reaching. Carnikko raised one arm and spread her palm as if it were a stop sign, saying, “No. Ya can’t pick me up. I hafta do it myself. Mammaw said it don’t matter how many times ya get knocked down, it’s how many times ya get knocked up that counts.”
Uncle Carl braced himself against the wall, laughing so hard he went into a coughing spell.
Carnikko didn’t know why he was laughing so hard. She actually thought that Mammaw’s words carried great wisdom.
“Keep up the good work, honey. Never be a quitter,” Uncle Carl said.
“I ain’t a quitter. I’ll never be a quitter,” Carnikko stated with all the determination in her young soul.
She continued her attempts to walk, every day, and one day she was putting one foot in front of the other and walking as if her legs had never been broken. However, she often had leg spasms, but Aunt Lou or Mammaw would massage her legs with Witch Hazel liniment, and the spasms would let up.
Carnikko was relatively happy living with Aunt Lou and Uncle Carl and her two cousins, but she got a case of the blues often. She missed her brothers, longed to see them, live with them, and be a family together as they were before the accident. But she knew that her life would never be the same. She also knew that her brothers’ lives would never be either. It was the way it had to be.
Chapter Twenty-Five
As time passed, God or Purple Angel, Carnikko didn’t know which, let her visit Mama and Evan. They walked the bank of River Jordan, drew pictures with their big toes in loose dirt, sang songs, held hands, and danced around a campfire. The visits gave Carnikko strength and the desire to go on living. Astral travel was wonderful!
One mor
ning Carnikko sat at the kitchen table working a jigsaw puzzle. Aunt Lou hadn’t come out of her bedroom for a few days, and the child was being careful not to make noise or do anything that would upset her aunt. Uncle Carl had taken Mickey and Ikey to stay with Aunt Lou’s parents.
Carnikko glanced up when the back door opened. She smiled as Mammaw came inside, but Mammaw’s face looked different, like she was upset or maybe mad, a look Mammaw never had.
“Hi, Mammaw,” Carnikko said, sweetly.
Mammaw pulled a chair from the table and sat beside Carnikko, and said, “Honey, I gotta tell ya somethin' and I ain’t sure how to explain things so ya’ll understand, but just hear me out.” She dropped her head and shook it from side to side. Then she placed her age-spotted hand on Carnikko’s, looked the child in the eyes, and said, “Honey, Aunt Lou had a nervous breakdown. I gotta take turns takin' care of Ikey and Mickey—” Her voice trailed off.
Carnikko cocked her head, remembering Dr. Moran talking about a nervous breakdown, being pulled in two and snapping like a rubber band. She pictured Aunt Lou in two pieces, her head in one corner and her body in another. She shook her head and blinked, trying to make the image go away.
After a few moments, Mammaw continued, “A nice lady from the church in Canoe Cove is cominꞌ to get ya. She’s got a little girl yer age and another girl a little younger.”
Carnikko’s eyes widened as she said, “No, Mammaw! I don’t wanna go with her. Can’t you keep me, too?”
Mammaw’s eyes filled with tears as she said, “I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t. I have other grandkids besides Ikey and Mickey, and I hafta help take care of them so their parents can work. I’m old and I ain’t in good health no more—” Mammaw’s voice broke as she shook her head sadly. “I know that things like this don’t make sense to kids, but—”
Mammaw’s voice trailed. Carnikko stared at her in disbelief. Then she heard a strange woman’s voice as she walked into the kitchen, “Hi, honey,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Foley. Your mama was my best friend. Do you remember me?”
Carnikko swallowed hard and said flatly, “Yeah, I remember ya.”
“Good. I’m going to take you home with me,” Mrs. Foley said, touching Carnikko’s hair gently.
As Mrs. Foley held out her hand, Carnikko rose from the chair like a robot. From that moment on, everything was a blur. She would later have no memory of leaving Aunt Lou and Uncle Carl’s house or even of saying goodbye to Mammaw. She didn’t remember the ride to the Foley’s. It was as if she had just blinked and—poof—she was in another house.
Finally, she realized that she was sitting on a strange sofa, but as she looked around, she saw that it was a nice, clean, cozy room with a brick fireplace. The furniture didn’t have holes or dirty spots, and there was a TV set. It was a nice home, but even though she knew Mrs. Foley and her oldest daughter, Sandra from church, they were strangers just the same.
Carnikko watched the Foley girls romp around the living room. She remembered Sandra from Sunday school. Sandra sounded like a whining puppy when she talked and she had a bad habit of touching people with her forefinger when she talked to them, pushing as if trying to see how far her finger would indent into their flesh.
Carnikko hadn’t really liked Sandra very much, but Mama told her she had to be nice to Sandra because her mama was a good friend. Carnikko was nice when Mama was around, but when Mama and Mrs. Foley were out of sight, she shoved back at Sandra whenever she poked her with her finger. She hadn’t liked having to be nice to her back then, now she was going to have to live with her! Life couldn’t get any worse, as far as she was concerned.
Sandra stopped playing with her younger sister, Amy, sat beside Carnikko, poked her arm with her finger, and said, “Do you want to color with me?”
Carnikko jerked her arm away, saying, “Don’t do that! Keep your fingers to yourself!” She wished she could bust Sandra one, like Daddy used to do when people pushed him around.
Sandra buried her face in her hands and faked a cry. “You’re mean! I’m going to tell Mama!” She jumped off the sofa, working up a louder wail as she headed for the kitchen.
Carnikko heard Mrs. Foley reply, “I heard. You were trying to be nice and she’s being a smart-aleck, but Mama’s proud of you, and Jesus loves you.”
Sandra continued her fake crying as Mrs. Foley walked into the living room and said, “You aren’t anything like your sweet mother, are you? You should be ashamed of yourself. Your mama wouldn’t be very happy with you, young lady.”
Carnikko sat silently, but she was seething inside. Mama is too proud of me ‘cause she watches over me. She said so. And she knows that Sandra is the smart-aleck.
Mrs. Foley continued to glare at Carnikko. “I can see that you’re going to be a troublemaker. I agreed to take you in because I felt sorry for you and because I loved your mother, but I can see that you’re like your no-good daddy!” She took Sandra’s hand and led her to the front door, then said, “You stand here and wait for Daddy, sweetheart. He’ll set Miss Smarty Pants straight, real quick.”
Sandra looked back and stuck her tongue out at Carnikko, then said, “Yeah, my daddy will show you who’s boss.”
Carnikko had never met Mr. Foley, but terrifying thoughts ran through her head. Will he beat me with a cane pole? Will he take a strap to me? Maybe he’ll boil me in oil, or bake me in an oven like the witch had planned to do to Hansel and Gretel.
As Amy joined Sandra at the front door, Mrs. Foley returned to the kitchen, not bothering to look at Carnikko as she walked past the couch.
The silence was deafening—until Carnikko was startled when she heard a car door slam. Sandra and Amy both said, “Daddy’s home!”
Carnikko tried to swallow, but there didn’t seem to be any saliva in her mouth. She closed her eyes and silently prayed, If I should die—
The front door opened, and Carnikko heard a deep voice say, “Hey, how are Daddy’s little girls?”
Carnikko opened one eye and saw Mr. Foley swinging Sandra in the air. Then he lowered Sandra and gave Amy three whirls. Finally, Carnikko mustered the courage to open both eyes, and she couldn’t believe the man she was looking at. Mr. Foley was short, skinny, and had a handsome face and kind eyes. He didn’t look like a match for Mrs. Foley, who was a few inches taller than her husband, heavyset, with eyes that didn’t have the same type of friendly gleam.
Mr. Foley walked toward her, smiling. “Hi, there,” he said. “You must be Carnikko. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He held out his hand and gently shook Carnikko’s hand. “I can see we have three girls now. That’s nice.”
Mrs. Foley walked into the living room holding a bottle of Blue Ribbon beer. She handed it to her husband, saying, “I’m afraid she’s not all that nice. She’s already picked on Sandra.”
Mr. Foley flopped into a chair, took a swig of beer, and said, “Well, let’s give her some time to adjust. She isn’t used to our kids, and you baby Sandra too much.”
Carnikko bit her lip to keep from laughing as Mrs. Foley whirled indignantly and marched back into the kitchen.
To the best of Carnikko’s memory, Mrs. Foley had always been kind and sweet when she used to come to their house. She had visited Mama often, and they always talked and laughed for hours. Maybe Mrs. Foley didn’t like her because she didn’t like Daddy.
Well, Mrs. Foley can kiss my shiny-hiney! she thought and wanted to scream her thoughts out loud.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Foley announced that supper was ready. Carnikko ate in silence, not wanting to upset Mrs. Foley any further.
After supper, Mrs. Foley told Carnikko that she’d be attending Taft school. Carnikko felt sick as she thought about what the next Monday would bring; a new school, new students, new teacher, and having to go through the embarrassment of telling her name. Maybe I can tell the students my name is Mary, Sue, or Judy. No, that won’t work. The teacher will know my real name. And Sandra would surely blurt it out.
On Sunday morning, Mrs
. Foley took the girls to the church in Canoe Cove. Carnikko sat through the service quietly, lost in memories that stabbed at her heart and made her eyes water.
During the drive back to the Foley’s, Carnikko asked, “Was Mama and Evan’s funeral at that church?”
“Yes, it was, and your mama and brother were dressed in very nice clothes. Your sweet mother would have been proud,” Mrs. Foley replied softly, her eyes welling up with tears.
Carnikko was happy to hear that Mama was dressed in nice clothes. Mama was poor, but that was Daddy’s fault because he drank too much whiskey. None of the family had ever talked about the funeral. None of them had even taken her to Mama and Evan’s grave.
Then she remembered overhearing Mammaw talking to Uncle Carl, saying, “Nobody need mention Rachel and Evan’s death in front of Carnikko. It upsets her too much.”
As Mrs. Foley drove home, Carnikko closed her eyes and visions flashed through her mind. She could see Mama’s chestnut-brown hair and how it outlined her oval face. She saw a golden hair comb tucked neatly into the side of Mama’s hair and Mama looked beautiful in a red satin dress, red earbobs, a red necklace, and red heels. She blinked, knowing that Grandma and Grandpa would never have their daughter dressed in red and wearing jewelry, but that’s how she wanted to see Mama.
She saw Evan was wearing a navy blue suit, a white shirt, a blue tie, and shiny black shoes. His blond hair was parted on the right and pushed into a deep wave on the left. He was smiling, showing his dimples.
They were both in blue caskets that matched the blue of their eyes. It was all perfect—and Carnikko could see it as plain as day. And she’d keep the picture in her mind forever. It was the way she wanted to see them.
The next morning, Mrs. Foley readied Carnikko and Sandra for school. “I wish I had my own car so I could drive you to school, but I’ll watch you until you’re out of sight. Just stay close to each other and don’t stop and talk to strangers.”
“We will, Mama,” Sandra said. “We’ll even hold hands.”
