The Road to Bittersweet

by Donna Everhart

  Well, it hurt like the dickens, the wounds all the more tender from repeated exposure to dirt and the constant pressure of the bucket I was always having to fill, and firewood I gathered. I bit my lip while she cleaned, poked and prodded. Finally, she took the rest of the strip, tore it in half and wrapped them again. She shook her head the entire time, and she was likely thinking how we’d had some peroxide, salve and real bandages on a shelf in the old kitchen. I’d thought about it. And all the other things we’d had what made our life seem luxurious, considering.

  When she was done, she said, “You’re tough as they come, just don’t forget yourself out here, Wallis Ann. You’re near bout a woman now. There’s no harm in working hard, but a woman ought to remain somewhat soft and delicate seeming. A man likes a gal that’s not too, too independent.”

  I had no idea why she said this since she’d never said anything remotely like it afore. My face went hot, and the warmth trailed down from there all the way to my feet.

  I replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

  I started back to where I’d left Papa, motioning for Laci to come along. She was happiest with me, and Momma had enough on her hands with watching Seph. I went right back to work and found I could keep up, even with my bandaged hands. If we wanted to fix things, we’d have to give more than we was used to, even Laci. Papa and I found two more trees, and I directed Laci to peel the bark on a maple we’d found. I give her the hammer and showed her the claw end would work to get things started. She sat down and appeared to like doing it. Anything to do with her hands was liable to keep her happy.

  We left her there, and pulled a tree into camp I’d worked on earlier, and dropped it off. Momma give us a little smile. We went back into the woods, and while Papa hunted for another tree, I went to check on Laci, to see how she was coming along. I arrived at a barely peeled maple to discover she won’t where I had left her. I looked for several minutes, feeling the same sense of agitation I’d had when she didn’t do what she was supposed to. I searched the edges of the woods in a broad circle, and at one point I went to call out, only I didn’t want Papa to know. I stayed quiet and started my search again, deciding she couldn’t be too far as we hadn’t been gone long. I tramped my way in one direction and another, until I’d come full circle. Papa appeared and I dreaded telling him. It was yet another problem, but he was engrossed with Pete’s harness and didn’t notice her missing.

  He mumbled, “I broke this. I got to see if I can fix it.”

  Relieved, I said, “Okay.”

  He walked towards camp and I took off running down towards the creek. If Laci went anywhere, it would most likely be there. I rushed along, half irritated and half scared. Sure enough, there she was, sitting on the wishing rock, staring at the rushing water like she was hypnotized. She’d give me enough of a scare there was the initial rush of relief and then come a tinge of anger. I stomped over to her, hands on my hips. She looked straight at me, her face and hair all wet. She might as well have jumped in, and I was sort of shocked how she looked so washed-out, her color gone grayish.

  My anger went away quick. Maybe things with Laci won’t good as I thought. Maybe the lack of her usual rituals was making her do stuff out of the ordinary. Slipping off like this was totally out of character, yet it was her eyes what struck me, an awareness, or something in them what made me lean in close and take her hand.

  “Laci?” I whispered, a question in my tone, like I was knocking on a door and expecting it to open.

  We stared into each other’s eyes for the briefest of seconds, and I almost quit breathing, waiting to see how long this knowledge, or whatever it was, lasted. Almost as soon as I focused in on it, it was over. She blinked, then slid off the rock and when she looked at me again, the something that had been there was gone, like a flash of lightning. I took hold of her cold, wet hand and we started back, me talking to her the whole way.

  “Laci, what’re you doing? You shouldn’t be going off by yourself. It could be dangerous. Don’t you know that?”

  Laci went to peeling bark again, stripping each piece off, examining it, then letting it flutter to the ground in a pile of shavings we was keeping for the fire. Later that night after me and Laci went to bed, I overheard Momma and Papa talking in hushed voices.

  Momma said, “It’s harder than I thought, William. We need warm beds, food in our bellies. We’ve been out here only a matter of days, and I sure can’t imagine weeks of it. Especially as it gets colder.”

  I continued to fake sleep, eyes tightened into slits, yet open enough to see their blurred shapes in the firelight. Papa stared into the fire. I hoped he would discuss a brilliant plan, or at least give some sort of solid answer to Momma’s comment, something what could take my own little niggling doubt away. He kept looking into the flames, brooding.

  He said, “Winter will be here afore long. Might be we ought to go stay with Hardy.”

  Now it was Momma’s turn to stare at the burning pile, watching as some of the wood collapsed and shot sparks in the air. Papa threw another log on. The fire blazed so hot it turned bluish at the top edge. I was forced to give up on my pretend sleep in order to move back some. Laci did too, then promptly closed her eyes. She was back asleep after a few minutes, deep breathing, ignorant to our new and difficult world. Momma quit talking, her expression saying Papa’s idea was one she cared nothing for. In my head Uncle Hardy was a blur of beard, coveralls and a loud voice.

  After a while, Papa approached a different topic. “I should go get the truck at some point.”

  Momma sat straighter, her tone encouraged by Papa’s change in conversation. “Where is it?”

  “Resting against some trees several miles from here towards Cullowhee. I ain’t about to let it sit there. It sure would come in handy. I could check see what plans they got at the sawmill, if any. See if they might have something for workers, a way to make money, buy some food.”

  “Can you get it running?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Having the truck would be nice, only everything planned or worked on so far seemed as fragile as the thin ice we’d soon see forming on the creeks and ponds. I won’t going to think on having it, till it was here. Momma and Papa settled down for the night, conversation over for now. At some point during the night I’d unrolled my body out of the tight curl I maintained for warmth. The moon hung low in the sky off to the west, a giant yellow button. The trees looked black against it, except around the edges where they glowed from the moonlight. I stretched my legs, my feet searching for Laci’s. I felt nothing. Puzzled, I sat up. She won’t there, or anywhere near the fire. Momma and Papa slept like they always did, Papa behind Momma, with his arm around her. And Seph cuddled tight against Momma’s front, her arms around him. Judging by their breathing, they slept deep, and hard. I stared beyond the fire towards the edge of the woods where we went to take care of our privy needs. Maybe she’d needed to go. I stood and walked to that spot behind the leaning barn. She won’t there either.

  Papa stirred, snorted, and then coughed. I waited until he settled down, knowing I was going to have to go looking again. Away from the fire, the cooler air hugged me like a heavy, wet coat. I wrapped my arms about my waist to keep from shaking. With every chilly step I took, dread swelled and filled my belly like I’d eaten rocks. In my mind, I realized something was going on with Laci for her to keep disappearing. I crept about quiet as possible, feeling an unlikely urge to whisper her name, as if she would answer. Again, I went towards the creek, and the idea of her out there by herself made me walk faster, the sharp rocks on my feet making me bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. My heart thudded in my chest and my breath drowned out the rustling of weeds as I passed by foliage still trying to recover. I made my way carefully towards the wishing rock, hoping to see her there.

  She won’t.

  I turned in circles and tried to think where else she would go. I went towards the Tuckasegee, the sound still loud, even from here. In a few minutes I made o
ut the foamy rapids, the usual gentle cascade whipped to a froth by what still run down off the hills. She won’t there either. I hoped to God she hadn’t fell in. I headed back to Stampers Creek when I spotted her. She was close to one of Momma’s willow trees, floodwater lapping at her toes. I shivered with relief. The only thing moving was her hair, matching the swaying, long droopy fronds of the tree as they swirled in the water. Even with the wind, she didn’t act cold, not like I was, shaking so hard my teeth was knocking together. I went towards her, aware of how lovely she looked, standing there shining in the moonbeam like an angel without wings.

  I moved towards her slow, uncertain of her state. “Laci?”

  Her eyes was closed, and it looked as if her lips moved. I leaned in close enough to feel the soft puffs of air from her breath. I repeated her name.

  “Laci?”

  She heard me that time, and her eyes flew open, big and wide, her gaze untethered from any show of fear. She come towards me as if we was out for a regular walk, took my hand and waited. She was making me nervous with all these odd doings lately.

  “Did you get lost? Did you need to use the privy and couldn’t find your way back? Maybe you was asleep? Was you sleepwalking?”

  All these questions I had, questions I spoke out loud, knowing I’d never find out. I led her back to the fire, and it was clear to me she must have been freezing. Her lips was blue and so was her hands and feet. The area below her eyes was tinged a deep gray, like she was so tired. She sat down and reached behind herself as if to get her fiddle, and then she faced forward, hands collapsing into her lap. Such a simple movement. It was like a bird I once seen falling from out of a tree, dead from some kind of disease. Like her hands was dead. Useless without the fiddle. That was it. Maybe she was looking for her fiddle.

  I said, “Come, get up. Let’s go to sleep. I’ll sing if you lie down.”

  I chose a song she liked to play, the Delmore Brothers, “Alabama Lullaby.” I sang low, my voice barely above the crackle of the fire. I watched, worried she’d walk off again. Thankfully she didn’t and it won’t long before she lay back down too. I sang the verses over and over until I was sure she was asleep. I decided to stay awake so I could keep an eye on her. I won’t about to tell Momma or Papa. They had enough to worry about. After Laci’s eyes shut, I sat with my back to the fire and faced the woods. I stayed like that till first light. When the fire was down to embers, I threw on a log. I grabbed the bucket and went to the creek. I filled it, returned, and put the kettle on to boil for the coffee. I was already frying ham in the skillet and had mixed cornmeal and water for corn pone when everyone else stirred.

  Papa’s mood appeared a bit better when he said, “Why shoot, Wally Girl, if I didn’t know better, I’d say this outdoor living suits you.”

  I was so dog tired all I could do was reply with a yawn and a tiny smile.

  Momma said, “You’re a good girl, Wallis Ann.”

  I give her the same halfhearted smile. Laci sat up, flushed, eyes as clear as spring water. I finished cooking the corn pone and washed the jar out with some boiling water. I poured coffee in it, and then everything was ready.

  I said, “Papa, will you bless the food so we can eat?”

  He did, and we ate, and while we did, I watched Laci gobble hers down, apparently bearing no ill effects from her midnight wanderings. I nibbled at a corn cake and give my ham to Seph. His chubby cheeks looked less so this morning. I tickled his belly to get him to laugh, and he grinned, his tongue shooting out to lick the grease running off his chin. Hearing him giggle made me feel better.

  Momma said, “You’re not hungry, Wallis Ann?”

  “No, ma’am, not really.”

  Papa glanced at me, and said, “Maybe you’re working too hard.”

  Momma said, “I told her there was nothing wrong with hard work, except she ought to take care of herself too.”

  Their concern aggravated me, giving me an irritable feeling like an itch you can’t scratch. I was perfectly fine, or would be if I won’t slogging about the hillside at ungodly hours.

  Papa said, “I’m not working you too hard, am I, Wally Girl?”

  “Let’s go.” I stood to show them and myself, I was ready to work.

  We set off for a different spot. We’d gathered all the downed trees we could in the other location, and still, Papa won’t happy about the lack of finding those we could use.

  He said, “Flood’s done carried a lot of them off.”

  We began looking in an area beyond where Momma’s stove rested and even further beyond. Every one we come across was either too big for us to handle or broken in half. Papa kicked at the ground clutter, shook his head and come to a standstill.

  “This is near bout impossible. I need my saws. If I had my broad saw, we could take down the trees we needed, bigger ones at that.”

  I said, “But, if we had bigger trees, we might not be able to move them the way we are, and we might not be able to place them on the foundation, right?”

  Papa scratched at his beard.

  He said, like before. “Let’s do what we can, while we can, fast as we can.”

  Papa’s mood shifted over the course of the afternoon, and I found myself trying to find good trees faster to keep his spirits up. By the end of the day, we’d found only four more. Pete helped us get them to our camp area, where we’d decided Laci could peel instead of by herself in the woods, but it was a process even slower than finding them. Papa’s frustration showed when he stopped working, his hands resting on his knees, his eyebrows drawn in that familiar line across his forehead. His mood hadn’t improved come suppertime.

  We gathered round our fire, and Momma pointed to the cornmeal sack, and said to Papa, “We have maybe another day or two. The ham, maybe three to four days, if that.”

  I noticed how stooped over he was, like the weight of his worries was breaking his very back. When I thought on it, I won’t sure I remembered last time he’d laughed.

  He growled at Momma. “When it’s gone, then what. Is that what you mean?”

  I’d been staring at the fire, but when he said that, I considered his words.

  “Papa, you yourself said we had each other. And our name.”

  He said, “Neither one will feed us now, will it.”

  It was best not to talk. What we needed was some sort of miracle. Later on that night, I heard Momma praying softly for one. I listened on her words until she quit, right in the middle of one, as if she’d give out, or give up.

  Chapter 10

  Our deprivation has turned into a grinding hunger hard to ignore. My belly felt like a tight wad of hurt and more than once I had become so light-headed, I had to stop and stand a minute before I carried on doing whatever it was I had been doing. My thoughts had become fuzzy, and I’d gone to scratching lines in one of the trees nearby. As of today, we’d been four full days with no real food to speak of.

  I got to humming once, so as to keep my mind from thinking on it, till Momma told me to be quiet. “There’s nothing to sing about.”

  Our desire to sing and dance shrunk like my hollow gut, long gone like everything else. I’ve tried to think of ways to distract myself, except when your belly’s controlling your head, it ain’t easy to do. At night when lying on the scratchy pile a leaves, my hip bones press sharp into the dirt, and my ribs push out. I ain’t never been delicate as Laci, that’s a fact, but I feel like I’m wasting away. My frame, once composed of muscled legs, firm arms and strong back as sturdy as a man’s, had gone weak, and I feared if somebody barely nudged me, I’d topple right on over.

  Seph’s nose was constantly running, and his cheeks weren’t pink no more, while things was bad for Laci in particular. She stopped playing the make-believe fiddle altogether, and she also stopped going off on them wanderings a hers. No more unexpected disappearances down to the wishing rock, or elsewhere. She hadn’t moved from the fire except to go and relieve herself in the woods, then she hurried back to it. She got so clos
e the other day, her hair got singed. Had I not smelled it when I went by on yet another endless trip to the creek for water to boil, she could a burned herself bad. I pulled the burnt ends off, and she went to rocking herself and she ain’t really stopped since. We smell perpetually of smoke, and our eyes stay red-rimmed. Last night I fell into this deep sleep, and the last sight I had was of Laci rocking and rocking. All of us was collapsing slowly, like the barn.

  We started foraging for food. We found some blackberries, wild grapes, scallions, and dandelion greens a few times. We ate the blackberries and grapes immediately because we needed the sustenance. We moved forward together, Papa, Momma, Laci and I, lined up like World War I soldiers I seen pictures of in class, descending on the German ranks. We picked what we could, even the ones still sort a green, and we shared. The squirt of sweet juice in my mouth even from only three or four was so good, my mouth watered and watered for more. The deer, squirrels, raccoons and birds was getting to them though, and it was almost too much work for what we got out of it.

  Papa and I continued to work on gathering trees for the cabin and I also searched for wild sumac berries to give to Momma. The few I found she soaked in boiled water and made us some sort of drink. It didn’t taste none too terrible. It had a fruity, lemony flavor, though I think I wanted to taste something so bad, it could have been my imagination. Once, when I come upon some dandelion greens and scallions, I gathered them and Momma cooked it all together in the skillet, only it was so very little, it almost made me more hungry.

  She said, “It’s something to keep our stomachs from hurting so bad.”

  I didn’t want to tell her she was wrong.

  * * *

  Come the morning after I found them greens, I went to get water for boiling, that endless chore I was beginning to despise. I took Seph with me, thinking to give him something to keep his mind off being hungry. I felt poorly, and he was looking right pitiful, otherwise I might have engaged him in playing. I took his hand and he come along with no fuss. I walked a little slower than usual, my legs trembling as I stepped over logs and the leftover rotting branches and limbs flattened from the flood.