Redwood and Wildfire

by Andrea Hairston

  “I know you, bear,” she said. “Go on now and leave me be.” The funky animal stared right at her, waiting on something else. “I thank you for scaring off trouble.”

  He loped away and the storm died down. Redwood peered outside, but wasn’t nothing to see ’cept more darkness. She kept looking anyhow. Yellow eyes sitting above her caught a distant light. She heard somebody running and panting. A bright red jewel broke through rainy gloom heading for her.

  “Aidan?”

  He raced toward the stream with a burning bough in his hand. The torch smoked and sputtered in a cascade of rain. He looked spooky and glorious, a night demon. Redwood’s heart fluttered fast, dragonfly wings in her chest. She swept back the canvas to let him in.

  “Is that fire from the sky? From the lightning?”

  Aidan nodded and thrust the torch into the wheel of wood in the stone fireplace. After a few moments of sputtering, a blaze for the new year leapt up at him. Redwood dropped down in front of the dancing flames. Aidan sat beside her, soaking wet and shivering. He sang words in a language she didn’t understand and put his arm ’round her. She hummed a harmony to keep his music company.

  “Go n-eírí an bóthar leat. Irish talk,” he said. “A prayer my mama used to say.”

  “What?”

  “May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face and rains fall soft upon your fields. And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.” The lilt to his speech was something Redwood only heard him do now and again. It was a good sound and she leaned into it.

  “You got a lot of fine voices in you,” she said.

  “The trick is to listen to ’em.”

  “Go n-eírí an bóthar leat.” Redwood tried the Irish talk. “I feel new and free, like in Okefenokee’s dream.”

  “Do you now?” He smiled.

  She took a deep breath of him and tasted pain and longing and love. “We should be heading out like the Indian ancestors ’til we find what we’re looking for.”

  He laughed, bitterroot and sweet. “When you want to go?”

  “Right now!” she said. Aidan kept laughing, but here was a chance to take the trick off him, before she scared herself out of it. Didn’t she feel power between them? Crossroads power. So for the first time since the family was on the run and Mama went to Glory, Redwood decided to conjure herself somewhere else. This was a spell powerful enough to heal any sick body. Mama said, time don’t go nowhere. What happened before, what might happen, is always with us, hiding between our heartbeats. Redwood breathed in the fire of a new year — lightning Aidan had snatched from the sky. She leaned her warmth into his chilly fever. He leaned right into her. She hummed a Sea Island melody, crossing their spirits, riding all the roads at once, looking for a place they both might dream of and then they were in —

  “Chicago!” a red-bearded white man yelled to a mixed crowd of wide-eyed spectators who stood on a sidewalk that moved on its own. “Where else?”

  Aidan blinked in strange light. Strings of electric light bulbs turned the dark into twilight. A roving searchlight illuminated a dazzling White City. Greek temples, enormous towers, and giant onion-domed castles loomed over him and Redwood. Fountains spit torrents of water into the air. Gondolas glided ’cross a man-made lake ringed by statues of muscular gods, goddesses, and winged fairy creatures. Fireworks exploded ’cross the sky like colorful flowers going to seed. Underneath a rainbow shower of sparks, a colossal plum light bulb floated in the sky. The flame under its narrow neck was too weak to light the massive bulb head. Watching it sway back and forth, Aidan was dizzy.

  “I want to ride the hot air balloon,” a little boy shouted.

  “Ahh.” Aidan squinted ’til he could make out a large basket below the flame filled with passengers squealing in fright or delight. Dizzy again, he leaned over the water.

  Redwood thumped his back. “You all right?” she asked.

  “Getting there.”

  Gas torches and electric lights glinted in dark, choppy waves, as if thousands of jewels had been tossed in for good luck. Aidan stood up straight and tried to look every which way at once. Redwood was also busy gaping at first one wonder, then the next. Her mouth hung open. She was as surprised as he was.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said for both of them.

  “Hush your mouth.” A tall, light-skinned colored woman in fancy dress pulled her two daughters close to her.

  “Sorry, Ma’am.” Aidan clamped his lips shut and eyed the gargantuan wheel turning in the distance behind the woman and her children. The wheel was as big as a mountain. He counted thirty-six coaches hung ’round its outer rim. “What you do, gal? Take us into the future?” He thought of H.G. Wells’s fantastic novel.

  “No, this is 1893, ten years behind us. I can’t believe we’re really here.”

  “I can.” Aidan was iron certain that he and Redwood were here somewhere and back in his chickee too — a bit of ground fog from the swamp clung to her feet. They were now and then and as real as anybody hearing, smelling, and seeing them would believe. Despite a flicker of irritation, he smiled at Redwood, a powerful medicine woman like her mama. His daddy say, some folks have grace and know how to step into a vision, a dream or — “Just, where exactly is here?”

  “The Columbian World Exposition in Chicago!” She grabbed him. “Isn’t it exciting? Don’t be scared.”

  He didn’t know how to be scared of what was happening. “You might’ve asked me if I wanted to come.”

  “I didn’t leave you in the dark without a word, did I?” She let go of him. “What if you never come back and I was lost in the swamp with panthers and bears afoot?”

  “You said nothing scared you. Besides, my bad manners don’t excuse yours.”

  “It’s a get-well spell.”

  “So I can’t be mad?” Aidan shook his head. “Sweet roots can make bitter medicine.”

  “We can’t stay long out our own time. Let’s don’t waste the time we got fighting.”

  A group of very dark colored folk, men and women dressed in the wildest fashion Aidan had ever seen, split in two to walk past him and Redwood. They strolled close enough for him to taste their breath. Colorful woven fabrics draped over their bodies swished and billowed. Pounds of beads and hammered gold jewelry hung on their necks, waists, arms, and ankles. Aidan wasn’t sure what their headdresses were made of. Might’ve been their own hair done up in geometrical designs. Talking to one another over his head, they passed little songs of meaning back and forth. These fine ladies and gentlemen could’ve come from out of this world for all he knew. Aidan stifled a gasp, then took a deep breath. They smelled like a field of spices, hot peppers and ginger. He stared in bright eyes and at white teeth. Redwood nodded how a civilized person ought to. The foreigners nodded back.

  “I bet they’re royalty from Africa, Dahomey or Abyssinia,” Redwood said when they had passed. “They came from their castles in a great ship ’cross the ocean.”

  Aidan never imagined royalty in Africa, let alone castles and certainly not ordinary people who looked so grand. “What if they’re regular folk just come to the Fair?”

  “You mean same as you and me?” Redwood was thrilled by this notion. She strode ’round him, claiming every inch of her tall bones, taking every breath like a free woman. “Can’t believe your eyes, huh?”

  “Of course I do,” Aidan said. Did she think he was just a backwoods cracker with no sense? He spied a bright yellow bead on the ground that must have fallen from a necklace. He scooped it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

  “I want to ride the big Ferris Wheel and see from up high what I done heard Mama and Daddy speak of. What do you want to see?”

  “Well…” When Doc Johnson told Aidan of traveling to the big Chicago Fair, Aidan had been too drunk to pay much attention.

  “Chicago’s the fastest growing city in the country,” a huckster shouted. “A world of tomorrow right her
e for you today! Step on up to the Hall of Electricity!”

  “In there,” Aidan said.

  He and Redwood marched with a herd of people into a building that looked to be made of light. Millions of electric bulbs flashed at them, each as bright as the lightning in the Georgia swamp. Marvelous contraptions on every surface of the pavilion buzzed and churned. Singers and musicians had been captured in boxes and on discs, and their music was blared back through gleaming brass horns to eager listeners. Stations were set up to watch moving pictures through peepholes. One counter displayed a row of electric fans. Whirring blades chopped the air into energetic gusts and cooled the hot spectators. Aidan lifted his damp arms up to the strong currents.

  “So much, and I ain’t never seen the like,” he said.

  She smiled. “I knew if I got you somewhere else.”

  “Y’all ain’t seen nothing yet,” a dapper colored man proclaimed, “’til you make it to the Midway. Have you been there?”

  “Let’s hurry.” Redwood pulled Aidan back through the dazzling lights, past a statue of Benjamin Franklin, and outside again. “’Fore we have to go home.”

  “How long is that?” Aidan could have paid Electricity a good long visit.

  “Every minute is stolen, a heartbeat snatched from somewhere else.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that, but didn’t press her for details. She dashed off, and he followed. They raced through a blur of people from all over the US of A and the whole world, too, sporting fine clothes and cheerful moods. They rushed by pavilions devoted to mines, transportation, and horticulture; past a Women’s Building and a Fine Arts Palace; but despite golden arch doorways, beckoning goddesses, and wondrous machines and inventions defying time and space, they didn’t take a moment to step inside any of these astounding exhibitions. Redwood was hell bent on the big wheel.

  Out the corner of his eye, a faint shadow dogged his heels. Aidan spied ghostly flames licking at the White City and turning its awe-inspiring beauty first angry red and then black and gray. Ashes and soot obscured his view for a moment.

  “This whole place burns down, you know.” Redwood read his mind. “We couldn’t go see these fairgrounds in our time, even if we wanted to.”

  “That’s a real shame.” Aidan groaned. “So we’re running through a ghost town.” No wonder they couldn’t linger.

  A hot air balloon landed gentle as a feather in front of them. The passengers applauded.

  “We’ve reached the Midway Plaisance,” Redwood said.

  “Ah, my good chap, the attractions here are very expensive.” A shady man with a slippery accent leaned close to Aidan. The man’s boots were outsize, and his coat was a costume for a minstrel show, one showy patch atop another: stage rags. “Cost two dollars to do a Balloon Ascension. But for one dollar and ten cents you could let your pretty lady sample all the features of Cairo Street.”

  “The Ferris Wheel is only fifty cents,” Redwood said. “Course, I don’t have a nickel, but a walk through Egypt…”

  “One spin ’round is all you get on the wheel, Cairo’s a whole street of thrills and wonders.” This man was slimier than a slug. He reached for Redwood.

  Aidan pulled her away and dug in his pockets. He had four silver dollars and two dimes. “It’s the Wheel or Cairo Street. I ain’t got enough for both.”

  “Hold your money,” she whispered.

  “You goin’ hoodoo your way in?” Aidan smiled.

  “It works sometimes at the county fair.”

  The slug-man slithered over to several smart-looking white patrons. Aidan and Redwood approached the high wooden gate to Cairo Street. Two guards taking money were ready to holler something at Aidan, but missed that train of thought when a fancy white man, his wife, and seven kids mobbed them. The guards had to do the addition before accepting the man’s ten-dollar gold piece. Redwood caught their roving eyes and fixed them on shiny river-bottom stones called from the mist lurking at her feet. Staring at this wonder, they didn’t blink at Redwood or Aidan striding through the gate toward the Egyptian temple.

  “What you say!” he gasped.

  The street was jammed. A camel belched and hissed at a dark-skinned boy in its way. Between the animal’s small humps a plump man sat muttering and chewing. “No more ride today,” he said to Aidan’s curious look.

  “Outrageous.” A white woman yelled over strange music that Aidan had never heard before. “No prayers, no wedding, not even a camel ride, what did we pay for?”

  Jugglers tossed flaming sticks in the air. Snake charmers serenaded their sleepy charges — creatures so big and thick, they could strangle a full-grown bull. Wranglers corralled camels who spat and pissed as a stout fellow in billowing pants gobbled down fire and blew it behind his back to the delight of several little colored boys.

  Redwood danced to the odd music. “I feel like I’ve been here, from all the stories I heard from Mama and Daddy.”

  “This your first trip, in the flesh?”

  “Hmm hmm, with you, Mr. Aidan Cooper, for good luck. A tonic spell.”

  Aidan was stunned and touched. “You shouldn’t have.”

  Not more than a foot in front of him, three olive-skinned Egyptian gals shook their tiddies and bellies, and scandalized or charmed gawking spectators. The Egyptian ladies wore colorful ballooning skirts and short, flimsy blouses. Strands of beads, coins, and silky rope bounced against their chests. Silver chains clanged below naked bellybuttons as they stirred their hips ’round a sultry beat played on hourglass drums. Tambourines and stringed instruments that were close cousins to the banjo filled out the sound and held the mood high. Folks hollered in a dozen languages at rippling bellies and bold behinds. Redwood squealed in delight with ’most everyone else and then mimicked the dance in front of Aidan. He admired her talent in picking up the steps and even more how good she looked shimmy-shaking.

  He grinned. “Better watch who you do that for.”

  Redwood had her hands on her hips. “Why is that?”

  “It’s indecent,” a woman said and stormed away.

  Redwood laughed and pulled Aidan closer to the music. The dancers circled them, rippling hand gestures inviting her to join in. She glanced at Aidan, shy for a moment.

  “The music’s already in you, gal, nothing to do but step on out,” he said.

  She danced with the Egyptian ladies like she was born to the moves. So fearless and powerful — it was quite a spectacle, enough to make your nature rise.

  “Last call,” a voice over a loud speaker proclaimed, and Redwood had Aidan running for the Ferris Wheel. They raced in front of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Pavilion, and Aidan stopped dead in his tracks. He peered in the tent as Redwood dashed on ahead. A trampled feather headdress lay in the dirt, a Lakota war bonnet or some such. An old man swept the feathers away. He looked colored and Indian too. Aidan plucked a feather from the dirt.

  The old man paused. “The Chief took a nasty spill, chasing down the wagon train.”

  “Is that the show?” Aidan wondered who the old man’s people were, what story he might tell, but he didn’t have the nerve to ask none of that.

  “Cowboys and Injuns are all gone for the night, son. Come back tomorrow.”

  Aidan didn’t move.

  The old man waved him on. “Go on before you lose your friend.”

  Each car of the Ferris Wheel held sixty people, old and young, fat and bony, foreigners and native born. It made six stops before doing a spin without stopping. Aidan was almost beyond taking in another wonder of the world. In the car’s close quarters, folks were eyeing him and Redwood. He wasn’t sure why. He paid a silver dollar for the ride — no hoodooing. Colored folk in their car sat right next to white. There were several people who could’ve been anything under the sun. Aidan glowered at a mean-looking Oriental fellow ’til the man showed all his teeth and turned away.

  “Chicago won’t ever be the same,” a man with a German accent spoke right to Aidan. “She is a world city now.�
��

  “Look!” Redwood gripped his arm. “Sitting on top of the world, with fireworks going off.”

  Aidan could’ve stuck his hand through the window and touched sparks. White buildings with Greek columns and half-naked gods and goddesses glistened in splashes of color. The crowd below roared, a great beast bragging over a juicy feast.

  “This has certainly been a tonic,” Aidan declared. “I feel grand.”

  Redwood smirked triumphantly. “What’d I tell you?”

  “Sometimes I get so tangled up in…gnarled roots, last year’s bad harvest, or haints spooking through stalks and weeds… I can’t see further than the next row to hoe, and I don’t feel a damn thing other than real bad.” What possessed him to say this out loud? He certainly hadn’t meant to cuss at her.

  “I know.” Redwood nodded solemnly. “Me too.”

  “You? Naw. You only saying that to keep company with my misery.”

  “Well, I know we can get ourselves to the other side of sad.” She had a smile to break even an ornery man’s heart. “Didn’t you say you were feeling grand right now?”

  Everybody in the car turned to hear what he would say.

  “Can’t deny it.”

  She hugged him close and tight, then whispered, “This is our secret. Magic we make together. You can’t tell nobody. Promise.”

  “Who’d believe me anyhow?”

  The Ferris Wheel spun down and just when Aidan thought to wonder how they’d ever get back home from Chicago, Redwood leaned into him and opened her eyes wide as the sky. Silvery fireworks flashed one last time — a bolt of jagged lightning frozen in inky clouds, like a spark caught in a giant light bulb. And then they were sitting again in his chickee in the swamp. Aidan wrinkled his nose at ashes floating on the air. Lightning had set dry underbrush ablaze but left the tall pines standing.