“The paper didn’t spell it out. Besides, knowing some things makes a child a grow up too fast. This is one of those things.”
“I have a right to know. She was my mother.”
He pulled me to him and wiped the hair out of my face. “Emmaline. Look at me. If your father thinks it’s all right to tell you someday, then he can. I’ll leave that up to him.”
“What about Aunt Bertie? Is she okay? Did the paper say anything about her? She’s not dead, too, is she?”
My voice cracked at the end. Even though my mother could be mean sometimes, she was still my mother. I loved her even when I hated her.
Aunt Bertie, I just loved. She was everywhere in my heart. If she was dead, I didn’t know what I would do. Tears ran down my face as I thought about the last time I saw her, right after I popped out from under her robe and ran. I shouldn’t have run away. It was all my fault. My mother and Aunt Bertie died because of me.
Merry’s strong arms closed around me, and he held me close while I cried into his stained t-shirt. He rocked me back and forth like a baby, like Daddy used to a long time ago.
A squirrel chattered somewhere, kind of like a scared bird. I leaned into Merry and let all my fears come out: that I would never find Daddy, that the Judge would somehow catch us and do bad things to me, that Merry would leave me, that I would be alone, sucked into the grimy swamp, that I would never see Bertie again.
Merry wiped my face. His fingers were tough. Like old leather. But it made me feel better all the same.
“Em, the paper didn’t say anything about Bertie. The article said your mom didn’t have any family. It didn’t mention you at all.”
“Why won’t you tell me how my mother died? I’m big enough to know.”
“I already told you nobody knows what happened. That was the point of the article. The police are asking the public for clues, because they don’t have any leads about who killed her.”
I pushed away from him to stand up. “But we know what happened to her. We have to tell them, Merry. We have to.”
“Em—”
“The Judge did it. We know he did.”
When I thought about the Judge, he was like the black hole we learned about in science class. Sister Mary Catherine called it a void that sucked up everything in its path. That’s what the Judge did. He took me from Daddy and killed my mother. Who knew what he did with Aunt Bertie. A deep chill ripped through me, mixing with the memory of cigar smoke. There was no way to escape him. In the end, I knew the Judge would take me, too.
Merry took one of my shaking hands and made a sandwich between his palms. “We may know he did it, Em, but we can’t prove it.”
“We can call the number for the police. The one in the paper. We can—”
“We can’t trust the police, Em. He had police with him the other night, remember? They were the ones chasing us. If we called that number, we’d have no way of knowing who might answer.”
“But if they didn’t know it was us—”
“It would be the end, Em. You’d never see your father again.”
“But how can the Judge get away with being so bad? Why can he kill people and chase little girls like me?”
Merry pulled his knees to his chest and watched the turtles splash into the water. “Wilkinson always ruled himself by a different code, one of absolute self-interest. He was like that when I knew him, since the beginning, but he’s gotten meaner, more ruthless, over the years.”
“You talk about the Judge like he’s been around forever.”
“Well, he’s been around long enough to amass a lot of power. To build the empire he always wanted.”
“I don’t understand why he wants me.”
“Em, I don’t know how to describe the world he inhabits. He…….it’s tough to explain.”
“You make him sound super human, like one of the bad guys the Wonder Twins fight.”
“Oh, he’s human, all right. Much as I am. When I look at you, I try to see what he sees.”
“What do you think he sees in me?”
“I don’t know what he sees, and that’s what’s got me worried.”
“Why?”
“Em, it’s too complicated. People like Wilkinson are capable of anything. We’ve got to stay ahead of him. Okay?”
I picked up a stick and threw it into the water. Ripples played with the sunlight and shadows. “But how do I stay ahead of him if he wants to find me, Merry?”
“That’s why we have to keep moving. Keep switching things up so nobody can follow us.”
He stood up and brushed the seat of his jeans. The fire smoked when he kicked dirt onto it. Most of our gear was packed, but Merry picked up the last few things and stuffed them into our backpacks. He shuffled the dirt to scatter leaves over where we’d been. When he finished, he turned to me. “I’m sorry about your mom. About Bertie. I wish I could protect you from everything bad, Em, but I can’t. All I can do is try to get you to your father before Wilkinson and his men find you. On that, I’ll do everything I can. I promise.”
As I closed the space between us and hugged him, I wondered: what made Merry help me? Why was he risking everything to find my daddy? Didn’t he have a home full of people who loved him? I couldn’t understand why he would be in the middle of nowhere with me. But before I could ask him more questions, he started walking.
“Through there about a hundred yards is a boardwalk. If we follow it, there’s a small campground with some showers.”
“With running water and everything?”
“Yes. One for girls and one for boys, with running water and everything. It was abandoned when I went over there about an hour ago. Let’s go and wash up. I’ll meet you outside the ladies when you’re done.”
I looked at his filthy clothes. “You sure do stink, Merry.”
He smiled. “We’re both pretty ripe. I’ll break out a fresh set of clothes for each of us.”
“I want the powder blue corduroys.”
“Done. Hurry up, now. We’ve got some ground to cover today if we want to make a decent campsite before dark.”
I picked up my small backpack and threw it over my shoulder. “How far are we going, Merry?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how fast you can trek through this swamp. And what’s beyond it.”
Beyond? I looked around at the fluttering trees and black water and listened to the creaks and groans of the swamp. I didn’t even want to imagine the only thing that could be scarier.
But before I could stop myself, I thought of the Judge. He leaned over the horizon. His meaty hands parted the trees. A cigar blew through the air when he waved. His lips moved around the cigar, but I ran into the bathroom to keep from seeing what he said. When I peeked outside, the forest was thick again. No gaps.
Still, I knew the Judge was out there.
Somewhere.
THIRTY
Saturday. October 8, 1977. Near Kosciusko, Mississippi.
Emmaline trawled her feet on the trail ahead of me. She’d been happy to walk when we broke camp, but as the day wore on, the monotony of hiking blighted her disposition. She wove from side to side on the trail, idle hands pulling at dry leaves and slapping at vines. Once, she even started limping.
I wrapped my arms around Em’s waist and lifted her off the ground, backpack and all. “Let’s give you a little rest, Em. I’ve pushed you hard today, but it couldn’t be helped.”
“You don’t have to carry me, Merry. I can walk. Clearly. I’ve walked the skin off the bottoms of my feet today.”
“You’re limping. Does your leg hurt?”
“It’s sort of a come-and-go pain. It moves around. But it’s all better now. Will you put me down?”
I lowered her feet to the rutted ground beside me. The caw-caw of a crow soun
ded in the distance, filtered through leaves that rustled in the wind. The scent of earth and pine.
I breathed deep, willing us both to relax, to break through Emmaline’s frustrations, to bring us both a bit of calm. After a minute or two of walking, Emmaline took my hand. Her deep breaths matched my own. Cleansed. Together.
I cleared my throat. “I remember the first time I had to do a long stretch of hiking.”
“How old were you?”
“Five or six. I don’t remember exactly. Younger than you, though.”
She peered up at me. “Did your daddy teach you?”
“My step-father. That man loved to be out in the woods. Taught me to understand it like he did.”
“Step-father? Did your parents get a divorce like mine?”
“No. My dad died when I was a little guy. I don’t really remember him.”
“Oh. Like my mother.” She sniffed but kept her eyes trained on the trail ahead.
“After a fashion, yes.”
“What happened to him?”
I listened to my breath. In and out. “Pneumonia killed my father.” I remembered hearing air rattle in his chest. From the doorway, I watched him drown in his own juices, saw his chest labor to rise and fall. My head barely came as high as the door knob. I stood at attention until my legs cramped, but I wanted him to look at me. To see me, one more time.
He never acknowledged me before life wheezed out of him. I sat on the edge of the bed. Pretended those glassy eyes could see. They followed me the whole of my life.
Em’s voice nudged me back. “Were you close to him?”
“Not really, but he was my father, and I respected him. He’d been away a while before he got sick. Was gone a lot, actually. Must have caught the lung fever during his travels.”
“I thought you said he got pneumonia.”
“Lung fever. Pneumonia. Same thing. Lung fever is… an older term for it.”
“Oh. I never heard it before. So, were you there when he died?”
I couldn’t tell her how much his eyes haunted me. How I saw them change the moment his spirit fled. I didn’t want her to imagine her mother that way. Our walk through Nowhere was nightmare enough.
I picked up a stick and threw it. Watched it run aground. “I remember seeing him lie in state in the front parlor. People came over to the house to pay their respects. I stood next to him until my little legs ached. Even fought my mother when she tried to make me go to bed. I wanted to keep him with me for as long as possible. When I touched his skin, it was as cold as the chill in the room. I never could get warm in that house after that.”
“When my friend at school’s aunt died, we went to a fancy funeral home. Why did they come to your house?”
“Uh. Well, when there aren’t any fancy funeral homes around, the house has to do.”
“I guess you still miss him, huh? It sounds like you really loved him.”
“The loss of a parent is always a hole, Em. It never quite fills up.”
“That’s why you understand how I feel about my daddy, right?”
I helped Emmaline step over a fallen log. Its rotting core was shredded around an empty chasm that rang hollow when I kicked it with the toe of my boot.
“Perhaps it is. I was lucky, though. My step-father came along and took care of me. He’s the one that turned me into a man.”
“So, he was the one you loved like your daddy? The way I loved Aunt Bertie like she was my real mother?”
“Over time, I grew to see him as my father, yes, and I loved him just as much. Could be why I understand how you miss your dad so much.”
She picked a spray of yellow ragweed. Pulled at the individual buds and let them trail in the breeze. “I bet my daddy could hike for days and days without getting tired like me. I’m such a baby sometimes.”
I hugged her to me, a quick gesture of reassurance to keep from telling her how much I admired her mettle. It made people aspire to things, but determination fueled their footsteps, even when the ground ran out. She was both a dreamer and a doer.
Like me. In a lot of ways, she was just like me.
“You want to hear tired, Em? The first time I went hiking with my step-dad, I walked right off the edge of a cliff. Only fell a few feet, into some bramble, but my ego took a bigger tumble. My step-dad had to rescue me and carry my crumpled up and howling self right back into the house. Everybody laughed at me. It took me a whole day to recover.”
“Were you scared to hike after that?”
“Sure I was. But, the next morning, I was out there. Trying again. My step-dad was big on not letting a thing whip you.”
“Did you fall that time?”
“Not in the same place, but I fell. Got lost, too. Lots of times. The bad things are all part of the experience, Em. You can’t see the things a trail has to offer if you aren’t willing to take on the worst of it. Think of everything we’d miss if we avoided life’s trials: the river trip with Mister Jim, the birds with Jack, the turtles in the swamp, the pink sky at sunset and the boom of night noise.”
She sunk into a mound of dirt on the side of the trail, and I eased down beside her. Shadows danced on her hand when I took it. The black wingspan of a vulture swooped down and slipped out of view. Her voice was diminished by defeat. “I feel so stupid. About everything. You always know the right things to do, and I never know anything. I thought it would be so easy to get to Daddy, but it’s not.”
“Emmaline, does anybody know the first thing about anything? I mean, I don’t ever know how a day is going to turn out when I get up in the morning, but that doesn’t stop me from tackling it. I seldom know what I’m doing, but I figure it out as I go along.”
“But I’m never going to be able to hike in the woods like you, Merry. Never in a million years. Everything scares me, and I get so tired, and then I get mad at myself for being scared and tired.”
“You won’t be able to master it if you don’t keep trying. Look. These woods are a part of life right now, and if you keep pushing, you’ll figure them out. Don’t expect to know everything all at once. Just let the bits and pieces be enough.”
She let off a shaky exhale, but she never cried. Progress. I could see her growing, that stubborn set to her chin. “Bits and pieces. For the past few months, I’ve only had little pieces of Daddy. Letters he wrote me. A few pictures. The bits and pieces were never enough, because here I am. No matter how hard it is or how tired I get or how scared I am. I’m going to find Daddy. With you.”
“I’m glad, Em. I’m glad you’re with me.”
“Let’s go on, Merry. I’m ready. I promise I won’t be such a baby anymore.”
Her promise was lost when a thunderous boom shook the ground, followed by rapid gunfire. I jumped to my feet, with Emmaline clinging to my leg.
“What’s that?”
“It sounds like cannon fire to me. Through there. Other side of those trees.”
“Are they firing at us?”
“Ssh. Let’s creep over to the tree line. See what’s going on. Stay behind me.”
THIRTY-ONE
My legs couldn’t keep up with Merry. But I ran behind him through the trees, toward the booming sounds. My nose burned, like the time we shot Mardi Gras fireworks in the courtyard behind the house, and the colored smoke hung in the air. I liked the glow worms best, because they laced out from a tiny button we set on fire. Some of the shapes were pretty, and they didn’t stink like firecrackers.
“Gunpowder.” Merry stopped and held up his fist, his signal for me to stop, too. “I think they’re shooting over there, beyond that line of trees. Stay behind me, and be quiet.”
Another blast lifted me off the ground, making my ears ring. When I screamed, my voice was lost in another roar like thunder. With my palms over my ears, I mouthed sorry and stumbled behind Merry. Loudness like that was really
exciting-scary, because I didn’t know when the next explosion was coming, and it was hard not to react. When I tried to hold in my screams, they always came out even louder. I bit my lips together, my mind on Daddy’s face. What it would look like when he saw me.
Merry mashed his body flat against the trunk of a thick tree and pulled me beside him. Beyond the twisting branches and weeds, a small clearing opened into a rolling field that crawled with people. The men were dressed in knee-length pants with navy blue coats, and they wore triangle hats on their pony-tailed heads. Some of the men walked in a single line, and their guns had swords coming out of the ends. Other groups of soldiers stood around cannons that rolled on giant spoked wheels. Tents dotted the site, with bonfires near their openings.
“Merry, what are they—”
“Ssssh.” He pulled me closer to him. I could almost hear his heartbeat through the front of his shirt.
When I smelled meat, I realized they were cooking fires. A woman in a long dress stirred a steaming black pot with a witchy wooden paddle. My stomach cartwheeled. Food didn’t stay with me on the trail. I was always hungry.
Merry’s bird-like eyes followed a man’s march around the edge of the field, next to the trees. He had a gun slung over one fat shoulder, and his face was slack, sort of like mine felt when I was bored in school.
When the man came close to our hiding place, he weaved into the trees. A stick cracked behind us. Before Merry could turn around, the tip of a gun tapped him on the shoulder. “Get up.”
Merry shielded me with his body. The soldier looked over his shoulder and spat, still pointing a gun at Merry’s chest.
Merry stood a little taller. “My daughter and I, we’re just a couple of hikers, out for the afternoon. We’re not part of whatever it is you’re doing here.”
The man leaned over his round belly and spat on the ground again. I tried not to make a face when I saw that his teeth were crooked and brown. “We’re mustering. War of 1812. And, we don’t allow people to snoop around the perimeter.”
“We’re not snooping. I already told you. We’re hiking. Education, you know. For my daughter.”
To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis Page 14
