The Feathered Bone

by Julie Cantrell

  The crowd grows steadily, and the energy level is rising to near carnival mode by the time Viv and her hottie hubby arrive. They weave their way toward me, nudging among young families who cart wobbly toddlers past the animated snowmen.

  On the rooftop Preacher and Jay have added a new surprise to this year’s display. Using chicken wire and white lights, the flight pattern of a sparrow is depicted above the shingles, with separate sculptures showing each stage of liftoff. The lights have been programmed to turn on in sequence, so the overall effect represents a small bird coming out of its cage, flying away into the night.

  In the bird’s mouth is a flag. With each step closer to freedom, another set of letters lights up so that in the end, the sparrow soars away holding a flag that reads Fly Free.

  “Did you see the roof?” Jay returns.

  “Very thoughtful,” I say, moving near.

  “We liked what you chose for Ellie’s marker,” he says. “We salvaged those materials from Katrina debris.”

  I lean back into him. His hands warm around my waist.

  “You know, Raelynn and I stood by the river, talking about how it was only a matter of time before the waters would break through and flood the city. That was the day of the field trip. Nearly a year before Katrina.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you and Raelynn can see the future?” He’s pulling out all his charms.

  “Yep.” I laugh. “Fair warning.”

  “Well then, Madame Fortune-teller, tell me. When are you going to let somebody breach that levee around your heart?”

  Jay lifts my chin, and he gives me the most tender kiss a man could ever deliver. Before I realize what is happening, music begins to blare, and all my friends surround us, singing. Raelynn’s brother is capturing it all on video, as everyone I love starts dancing in sync and belting out the words to “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Viv comes rushing up to Jay with a bottle of Elmer’s glue. He pulls a ring from his pocket, pops it over the orange plastic cap, and drops to one knee. I’m a mess of tears by the time the music stops and Jay says, “Amanda, will you marry me?”

  Chapter 32

  Thursday, December 24, 2009

  IT’S CHRISTMAS EVE. WE HAVE BROUGHT SARAH TO ST. JAMES Parish to celebrate her official reentry into life. “She’s done so well handling the crowds at the Christmas lighting and the fund-raiser,” Beth says. “I hope this isn’t too much.”

  “It’s time,” Raelynn insists, smiling at Sarah.

  As the sun begins to set, Jay and I climb the levee, working our way behind Raelynn’s rowdy crew. She holds her niece, Kayla, on her hip while her brother cuts up with her three boys.

  Reaching the top, we stop to look out over the Mississippi River, where the water rolls between the banks. Louisiana crafters have worked for months, carving willow trees to construct a long line of bonfires. They stretch from Lutcher all the way to Gramercy and beyond. Some are traditional fourteen-foot-high piles, uniform and precise like guard towers. But others are feats of impressive engineering and artistry, a true celebration of the creative spirit.

  We stop in front of one that represents an alligator. Sarah asks a stranger to take a photo so we can all be in the frame: Beth and Preacher, Raelynn and her gang, Jay and me.

  “Say ‘Family’!” Sarah says.

  “Family!” we cheer.

  Around us, people enjoy their stroll, stopping to admire the elaborate log sculptures: pirate ships, army tanks, crawfish, and Mike the Tiger. With the darkness thickening, we head toward one pyre built to resemble a massive Mardi Gras float.

  “I heard you’re going to be queen,” I tell Sarah. “For the Denham Spring Mardi Gras parade?”

  “I can’t wait.” She smiles. “Ellie and I always said we’d be queen one day, remember?”

  “I sure do. She’d be very proud of you, Sarah. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”

  “We bend, Ms. Amanda. We don’t break.” Then she looks at Jay and adds, “I’m excited about the parade, but I’m even more excited about y’all’s wedding. Thanks for letting me be a part of it.”

  “Of course you’re a part of it,” Jay says.

  Beth chimes in. “I’ve got the church reserved. Preacher will officiate. Need me to plan anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s perfect,” I assure her. “Raelynn will bake a cake. Sarah and Nate can help with the wildflowers.”

  “Wildflowers?” Nate is confused.

  “We’ll give everyone a pack of seeds and ask them to plant them somewhere special, somewhere they feel most at peace.”

  “I love it,” Sarah says. “Ellie would too.”

  I draw her into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  “Me too.” Sarah smiles at Nate, causing him to blush in front of his brothers.

  “You know what I don’t get?” Nate asks. “Why didn’t you tell Dex your real name? Why’d you keep telling him you were Holly?”

  Sarah gets quiet for a minute. We gather closer to hear her response. “It’s taken me a whole year to figure that out. But remember when we went to the animal shelter? With the youth group?”

  Nate pulls his cap from his head. “Yeah. Fifth grade or something?”

  “Right.” Sarah smiles at Raelynn’s middle son, a fifth grader. “Remember that dog they unloaded from the car while we were there? The big white one with all those sores?”

  “I remember,” Nate says. “She was bleeding. Could barely walk.”

  “She had been living in a dump. Sleeping in garbage.”

  Nate nods, and I lean closer to Jay. He’s always had a soft heart for dogs.

  “The people from the shelter brought some food to her at the dump. But she wouldn’t let them get close enough to put a leash on her. Took a long time.”

  “Did she bite them?” Raelynn’s youngest asks.

  “No. She wasn’t that kind of dog. But when they started to lead her to their car, she pulled away. She tried to go back to the dirty blanket where she had been sleeping.”

  “Why?” Nate’s brothers ask in sync.

  “Because she had been in that dump for a long time. The fear of leaving was greater than the fear of staying where she was.”

  Nate replaces his cap, giving Sarah a slow shake of his head.

  “You see? No matter how horrible it was, I was surviving. I didn’t know what would happen if I tried to leave. I was scared.”

  “That’s not the Sarah I knew,” Raelynn says.

  “The Sarah you knew had forgotten something. Something Mom and Pop had taught me.” She looks at Beth and Preacher now. “That I can let go of the fear. Rely on my faith. Trust.”

  “Yeah, but I would have been scared too,” I admit. “Especially after what happened in the café. You trusted Bridgette.”

  “True,” Sarah agrees. “But I had a bad feeling about her from the start. That’s what I had to learn. Some people nudge us into the dark, others toward the light. We just have to be smart enough to know the difference.”

  The younger boys still look puzzled.

  Sarah explains, “How do you know where the fish are biting? Where the alligators are hiding? Where to set up your deer stand?”

  Nate taps his temple and smiles. “Instinct.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. We already have all the tools we need to survive. It’s up to us to learn how to use them.”

  After a time of silence, Nate’s littlest brother tugs Sarah’s shirt. “What happened to the dog?”

  “Oh, right!” Sarah almost sings this. “That’s the best part of the story. You’ll never believe it.”

  I lean in, attentive.

  “She became a rescue dog. When they bring in other animals who have been abused, they put them with her. She helps them stay calm. Teaches them all the things they forgot when they were trying to survive. How to trust, how to love. How to be loved. No telling how many animals she’s saved.”

  Jay looks to me and says, “Just think . . . if she hadn’t had the gut
s to step out of that mess.”

  At seven o’clock sharp, a fleet of boats let loose their hollow horns. More than one hundred fires are lit.

  “You know why we do this?” The flames fly high as Preacher explains. “So Santa can find his way in the dark.”

  Raelynn’s youngest laughs, not quite believing anymore. But Kayla perks up at the mention of Santa.

  Jay takes my hand in his. Smoke drifts over the water, and the bright line of fire reflects orange across the ribboned river.

  Maybe Jay and Sarah are onto something. Maybe I have spent the last few years building a levee around my heart. So determined to protect myself from harm, I stayed frozen in a terrible place. But sometimes life brings a storm strong enough to break through the highest flood walls. Only after the clouds have cleared do we know we’ve survived.

  Now this storm is over. And here we are, still standing. We have climbed to the top of this levee where bonfires blaze across the ridgeline. The pyres shine far and wide—so that love can come and find us, even in the dark.

  As the embers rise, locals break out their guitars, accordions, washboards, and fiddles. We clap and sing along to the familiar tune “Would You Fly.” Within the first few measures, hundreds are lifting their voices into the night.

  In the warmth of these bonfires, silhouetted in their towering light, I am surrounded by those I love most in this world. The darkness is being kept at bay. And the music plays.

  And the music plays.

  A Note from the Author

  WRITERS ARE FREQUENTLY ASKED, “WHERE DO YOU COME UP with your ideas?” While this particular story is a work of fiction, many things came together to inspire Amanda’s tale.

  First, the loss of my own brother to suicide when he was a senior in high school. I write this in memory of Jeff, whose light still shines. My brother was loved, and he lived a life of love. He is greatly missed. Every second. Every day.

  Second, I have seen too many friends endure the tragic death of a child. I have mourned their loss and observed the struggle they face while navigating this horrific trauma. To each of you who has known this unbearable grief, my heart hurts for you, and I thank you for showing us such models of strength and courage.

  Third, I was mesmerized by the story of Elizabeth Smart and her personal account of miracles and faith that kept her spiritually strong in the face of evil. Elizabeth, you inspire me and countless others. This story exists because of you.

  Fourth, I am passionate about being the voice for the many women (and men) who endure emotional and/or physical abuse for the sake of keeping a marriage/family together, or because they are too afraid/too in danger to escape safely, or because this abuse is all they know of love, or because this is what they believe they deserve. To you, I ask, what good is it to have feathers if you don’t fly? You are worthy of being loved. You are worthy of being free.

  Fifth, I long to reach the many teens who suffer from depression or despair and who feel misunderstood and hopeless in this great big world. To you, I promise, it will get better! Inhale. Exhale. Good things await. Please don’t let the pain win. You are stronger than you think you are.

  Sixth, I saw a 2006 documentary film, The Bridge, which was written by Tad Friend and directed by Eric Steel. This film explores Golden Gate bridge suicides and led to my alternative telling in this book about a suicidal man in front of Walmart who wanted one person to smile at him. I want to be the person who smiles. I encourage you to be that person too.

  Seventh, I was at a low point in my own life when I saw a viral video that had been posted on December 12, 2013, by Hope for Paws. This emotional clip featured the story of a dog who was rescued from a terrible life in a trash pile and inspired the final scene of this book, during which Sarah compares the dog’s experience to her own. I send a heartfelt thank-you to all of you who reach out a helping hand and who understand the fear that keeps a hurting soul in a place of pain.

  Eighth, I’ve had the honor of meeting with many people who have been abused and/or trafficked in America. These survivors bravely opened their hearts to me and told me their truths. These are people you work with, study with, live near, worship with. People you would never know had endured such unjust cruelties in their lives. They are strong, and many of them believe they only managed to survive because of their faith in God. Whether or not you consider yourself a spiritual person, it is hard to deny someone who stands in front of you and says, “God was with me,” when describing one of the most vile scenarios humanly imaginable. There is power in that kind of faith, and that’s what I hope to have brought to the pages of this story.

  All of these experiences combined to form a novel about the many forms of slavery and all the ways our souls can become trapped in dark places. The Feathered Bone is written for every person who has ever felt alone, unloved, unsafe, or unvalued. It is written to remind us all that we are loved, we have worth, and we are never alone.

  Acknowledgments

  IN LOUISIANA, THE BEST WAY TO MAKE GUMBO IS TO INVITE others to add to the pot. Many people touched this story as it was simmering. Please visit my website, www.juliecantrell.com, where I share more about the wonderful people who contributed. I could not have built this fictional world without them.

  Thanks to Nathan Deroche and Pat Hymel of Blind River Chapel as well as Martha and Bobby Deroche, Val Amato, Charlie and Jimmy Duhe, Moise Oubre, and Tommy Zeringue. To river friends: Pam Brignac, Barbara and Steven Gallo, Earl Hoseth, Michael Dale Howze, Damon Miley, Dennis Rohner, and Rhonda Littleton Sibley.

  To Louisiana State Police Lieutenant Chad Gremillion, Sheriff Jason Ard, his lovely wife Erica, and the entire Livingston Parish Sheriff’s Department. To Anny Donewald of Eve’s Angels; Prof. Richard Campanella, with the Tulane School of Architecture; and Dr. J. V. Remsen, with the LSU Museum of Natural Science.

  To LP’ers Anjel and Stan Cain, Dean Coates, Tammy Palmer Crawford, Nicole and Mike Green, Stephen Paul Howze, Kay Palmer, the entire Aydell Family and the Walker Museum, Myra Streeter, and everyone who ever brought me fishing, frogging, crawfishing, skiing, boating, hiking, exploring, or “to da camp.” To the congregations of both Walker Baptist and Judson Baptist Church, especially to Betty Marsh. To the teachers of the Walker public schools, particularly Linda Purcell. To Carolyn and Sonny Aucoin, who made the wild woods my own. And to New Orleans friends: Christa Allan, Marci Glascock Lichtl, and Stephen Lukinovich.

  To Taylor Bellard and my OGH gang: Paula, Pinky, Tammy, and Vickie. To Kenny, David, Craig, Stacy and Randy, Connie and Bobski, Gail, Mike and Cora, Josh, and Jessie. To Glenda and Jimmy Bell; Judy and Billy Kaufman; Mary and Mike Nola; Brenda Pepitone; the Livingston Parish Public Library and the East Baton Rouge Parish Regional Library; The Livingston Parish News; The Advocate; Rick Wentzel and the Livingston Parish School Board; Austin Flowers; Don’s Seafood; Kay Landry and the Rotary Club of Livingston Parish; Blaine Kern’s Mardi Gras World, St. Louis Cathedral, Algiers Point/Canal Street Ferry and Café du Monde; and the Baton Rouge Crisis Intervention Center. And to my Holy Yoga friends: Amber, Brigid, Catherine, Jane, Joy, Julie, Kaci, Kristi, Laura, Laurie, Lorraine, Lucinda, Mandy, Rachel, Stacy, Tiffany, Wendy, and NICOLE—my soul sister.

  To Texas friends: Ashely Tesar; Still Creek Ranch; and College Station’s Busy Moms Bookclub, specifically Kelli Backstrom, Ginny Brown, Gay Craig, and Brenda Rogers.

  To my agent, Greg Johnson. To my posse: Christa Allan, Kerri Greene, Carol Langendoen, Michael Morris, Larry Wells, and Lisa Wingate. And to Mary Ann Bowen—the world needs more people like you. To Katie Bond, Amanda Bostic, Elizabeth Hudson, Jodi Hughes, Daisy Hutton, LB Norton, and everyone at TNZ Fiction.

  Thanks to the best mom in the universe, Cindy Perkins. And to my husband, Charles, and our children, Emily and Adam, whose spirits and spunk bring more joy, love, and laughter to my life than I could ever measure.

  Finally, to every reader who gives this story a chance. I offer a great big heaping helping of gratitude for all of you. Merc
i beaucoup and bon appétit!

  Discussion Questions

  1. We begin the story with Amanda examining the movement of the river and the boats around her while describing herself as “landbound.” How does this represent her life?

  2. In an early scene, Sarah and Ellie pull on costumes for photos, displaying childhood innocence. Consider the deeper meaning of “disguising” or “masking” our true selves. How does this play out when Sarah is kidnapped, in costume, and called by a different name? How does she manage to stay in tune with her authentic self and not forget her own truth?

  3. Issues of faith are presented early in the book. We learn about the religious traditions of Mardi Gras and then see the cathedral spires rise above the fog as we ferry across the river. What do these initial images tell about the role faith plays in Louisiana culture? Examine the contrast of light vs. dark that is explored throughout the story.

  4. While in New Orleans, Amanda notices a prostitute. She feels compassion for the young woman but believes things like kidnapping and trafficking don’t happen to “people like us.” Discuss the factors that result in human trafficking and take time to learn about the impact on your local community. What does it say about us as a people if we ignore the exploitation of human beings, especially children?

  5. Hurricane Katrina is explored in Part II of this story. Examine the reasons people may have chosen to stay in the evacuation zone and weather the storm. Can similar constraints apply in situations such as trafficking, domestic violence, and abuse? Consider the parallels.

  6. Amanda struggles with the childhood wound of abandonment. She has felt unloved her entire life, despite having been loved greatly by her mother, her daughter, and her friends. How might this wound have impacted her choice to marry Carl, the one person who did not love her in a healthy way? What does she learn to accept about herself? About her husband? Do you believe, as Amanda learns from Viv, that we marry to heal our childhood wounds?