The Road to Bittersweet

by Donna Everhart

  I sighed and called out to Momma, “You want me to wash your hair?” and that’s when we heard a sound what sounded like a cough, coming from the direction of the barn. I turned in time to catch movement in the shadowy space of the doorway. Panicking, I run over to where I’d hung my wet dress, dropped the quilt and hauled it over my head. I grabbed the quilt again and threw it to Laci, so she could cover herself. Her eyes darted wildly between me and Momma.

  Momma motioned at me, whispering, “Wallis Ann, don’t you go over there.”

  I won’t listening. Somebody was in the barn and I aimed to see who was, and what they thought they was doing. I didn’t think about being in danger. I didn’t think about what if they had a shotgun. I hurried over to the barn door and peered inside, letting my gaze adjust, separating shadows into shapes. A metal noise, like a can being dropped, made me jump.

  Momma whispered loudly, “Wallis Ann!”

  I yelled inside the barn, “Who’s there? You come out here, right this instant!”

  Someone come barreling towards me, catching me by surprise, and the vague shape of a man was all my brain made out right before I was knocked off my feet, the back of my head hitting the partially frozen ground so hard I seen stars. I heard Momma scream. My vision went hazy, and in that split second there was a distinct and oddly familiar odor. In spite of my aching head, I got up, glaring at Leland Tew as he gripped the shovel Papa had set against the side of the barn. The initials JC was partially covered by his grubby hands, but the soil from Seph’s grave still rimming the edge of the steel is what made me angrier. He won’t taking that shovel if I had to kill him to get it. His gaze shifted to Momma, who was heading our way, and back to me again. He waved it around in a threatening way.

  He stated matter of fact like, “I’m taking this.”

  I said, “No you ain’t. It ain’t yours. Give it here.”

  Momma demanded, “Wallis Ann, don’t talk to him! Who are you?”

  He moved fast, and there was a whooshing noise as the shovel went by, barely missing my knees.

  I jumped out of the way while Momma hollered at him, “You crazy fool! Leave her alone!”

  He ignored her, and give me a coy grin and said, “Hooo boy! I seen you, you know. That purty skin like fresh milk squeezed from a cow’s teats, all white and creamy. Your sister there too. She got herself a pair.”

  Leland Tew’s hair hung in shaggy, long strands, and he had that one eye that tended to drift off. He give me the once-over with that rolling eyeball, stoking my anger, poking at me with his words the way he would a fire.

  Momma, her voice low and trembling, said, “Wallis Ann. Go on and let him have it.”

  I was tired of being tired. I was tired of being hungry. More than anything, I was determined to be rid of Leland Tew, once and for all.

  I paid no mind to her, and addressed him. “Give it here.”

  Tew leaned on the shovel, tilted his head and said, “What you got for me?”

  “I ain’t bargaining with you, not for what ain’t yours to begin with.”

  He looked at the initials and spoke with an exaggerated tone. “Huh. JC? That Joe Calhoun. You know Joe Calhoun? Maybe you lettin’ him stick his peckerwood in you. You lettin’ him stick it in you?”

  I heard Momma draw in a quick breath at his vulgarity. He made an obscene gesture with his tongue, and that’s when I run straight at him, my hands held out and shoved him hard. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards with a yelp and dropped the shovel. I grabbed it and swung it like a bat. It connected with his side and he yelped again. He spit at me and I whacked it against the side of his thigh. He squalled and hollered like he was dying. I swung it over my head. He seen I was about to whack him on top of his grimy head and with the look I must’ve had on my face, he turned tail and run towards the path, squealing like the pig he was. I went after him, shovel still over my head. I wanted to make sure he was good as gone and that he won’t coming back.

  Momma screamed at me. “Stop, Wallis Ann! Stop! He’ll kill you!”

  I didn’t stop though. I chased Leland Tew like I planned to kill him. He turned around, and seen how close I was and caterwauled. He was more of a chicken than Momma realized, all bark and no bite, really.

  He found his voice and screamed, “Git away, git away!” before he scurried around the bend.

  I chased after him a few more seconds, then stopped and shouted a fair warning at his disappearing backside. “And don’t let me see you come round here no more!”

  I turned and went back towards Momma. I dropped the shovel to the ground with a clank and leaned over, my hands on my knees, still wheezing hard, and still hopping mad. When I caught my breath, I retrieved the shovel only to find Momma looking at me wide-eyed, her hand to her mouth. She stared like she didn’t know what to make of me or at what happened. I won’t sure I did either.

  Chapter 13

  The night after I’d chased Leland Tew off, a stiff wind blowed in out of the north, a sure sign winter would come soon. The gusts created a feeling of helplessness when a particularly strong one almost took our fire out, sending sparks over us just as we’d started eating supper. We had to beat on the blanket and quilt where some of the bigger ones burned tiny holes into the material. The beans I’d cooked looked like I’d added pepper to them. I tried not to think of the soot what settled over the top when I went to eat. We couldn’t waste a pan of beans over a little ash.

  The gusts got even stronger the next day, and I sniffed the air. There was a crispness to it, a sharp, intense cold. It smelled of snow. Then, the barn got to creaking and groaning like an old woman with the rheumatism. Smoke stayed in our eyes, and went down our throats and set us to coughing. I tried to do some more work on the logs, but most of the time I found myself wanting to sit, nose and eyes running, and wondering where we’d be in a week, a month or even a year from now. I couldn’t imagine surviving a winter like this. Plain and simple, we wouldn’t. The image of how it could go is what made me think Papa might be right, leaving might be our only choice.

  The breeze blowed straight through my dress as I sat hunched over, contemplating how bad things could get, when an odd grinding noise from the barn made me lift my head. It come again, and with it, the building moved, sort a swaying like some live thing. The gusts increased, and with a loud screech the barn finally give up, falling in on itself in a matter of seconds, discharging a cloud of dust. The wind carried the airborne dirt straight over me, swirling like a dust devil before it lifted into the sky. Poor old Pete was only about twenty feet away when it happened, and the commotion startled him. He thundered off into the woods, tossing his head and braying. He come to a stop in between some trees, and showed his teeth in one of his ridiculous mulish grins.

  Momma and Laci both jumped up from their spot by the fire, looking like they’d been touched by the cold hand of a haint. It was sure to have happened, and now it had, I was glad. I was glad because I still seen Seph lying in there in my mind. And it seemed like we’d all been waiting on it to fall in since we got here. I stood, brushed myself off and walked over to the pile left behind. There was good pieces in there. I was sure Papa would want to save them. Momma had her hands on her hips, eyeing what had become of the barn with a helpless look, like everything was spinning out of her control.

  I said, “I’m going to see if I can loosen up some of them boards and maybe use them to fashion us some sort of shelter by laying them over there against that big pine near the fire.”

  Momma had already sat down. She waved her hand like she didn’t care.

  I said, “Laci, come on over here and help me.”

  Momma spoke sharp, unnatural like. “Wallis Ann, she’s not strong as you, especially now.”

  Surprised, I said, “She won’t have to do nothing heavy. Only help me get some of these boards loosened up, so I can stack the ones close by I want to use. She could put the broken ones aside for the fire.”

  “I don’t want her to wear herself out.
”

  Laci stood as if to come help, even with Momma saying she couldn’t.

  Momma pointed at the spot Laci vacated. “Laci, sit down.”

  Laci sat. Momma had only catered a little to one child over the other in the past, some towards Seph because he’d been the baby of the family, and a little towards Laci because of her issues, though I’d never felt too put out by none of it.

  Maybe she was scared of Laci getting sick like Seph and still I persisted. “Maybe it would do her some good, get her moving about and warm her up. I tend to feel better when I’m doing something. She looked like she wanted to help. She still eats pretty good too.”

  Momma straightened up and fixed Laci with a look.

  After a few seconds, she shook her head, and said, “No. She needs to stay here with me.”

  I shrugged like it won’t no concern a mine, deciding now won’t the time for me to start having any petty little jealousies over things what had always been part and parcel of our way with one another. I started towards the flattened barn and got to pulling on the boards, taking hold of the ends and yanking hard as I could to free them one by one. I took several of the longest ones first. The broken ones I added to the woodpile for the fire. I worked like I’d done when I first come, when I was by myself. Doing something give me a new energy and I kept my back turned to them while I worked and worked and worked because when I worked, I could almost believe I was warm. A while later, I heard Momma scraping at the skillet, fixing dinner. I ignored it and kept right on. I sensed it was well beyond the point of the midday when she come to get me.

  She laid a hand gently on my bent back and asked in a quiet voice, “Aren’t you hungry, Wallis Ann?”

  I had plenty for a shelter, and what I was doing now was only work to be working, piling up wood for whatever Papa wanted to use it for. I was hungry though.

  “Wallis Ann?”

  I stopped and brushed my hand across my damp forehead. “Yes. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry. I’m tired of being hungry.”

  Momma twisted her hands. “I know. Come on and get you something to eat. Maybe you shouldn’t do any more today.”

  It was as if Momma was feeling a bit guilty and trying to make up for her partiality earlier. It won’t going to change nothing, so I spoke what come to mind first.

  “If I don’t do it, Momma, who will?”

  “Maybe it don’t matter at this point, Wallis Ann. Maybe it don’t matter at all.”

  I won’t sure what she meant by that. Hearing how she sounded scared me, as if she’d given up on things getting better. She’d been sitting and sitting, thinking too much maybe.

  “Sure it matters, Momma. We can’t give up, can we?”

  Momma’s gaze circled around the property, from the line of trees what give a bit of seclusion to where the cabin had stood, then on to the fallen barn, the wasted garden, right over to the flattened fodder in the field beyond the tree line, and then back to me.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I’m only trying to get through each day. Come and eat. I don’t need you falling sick neither.”

  I tossed the board I held onto the others and followed her to the fire, where she’d saved some of the food she’d cooked. I ate with a faked enthusiasm, only to appease her while Laci eyed the extra corn pone Momma give me to munch on as she ladled out the watery beans in a pan.

  When I was done I said, “I think I’ll go check the traps Papa set out. Maybe something’s in them now.”

  Laci shivered like a newborn calf, looking weak as one too, and she’d make the going slower, but I felt sorry for her right then. I seen how she needed me.

  I hesitated, then said, “Momma, can Laci come?”

  Momma had picked up the bucket and the skillet, about to go down to the creek to clean the pan and to retrieve the evening’s water. Once more she looked Laci over. What was curious was how Laci tucked her trembling hands behind her as Momma studied her. Laci stared back, peaceful, almost like she was wanting to persuade her.

  Momma sighed, then said, “Well. I reckon it might be all right. Go on with Wallis Ann, and the both of you don’t take too long.”

  “No, ma’am. I’m only going to check them traps and we’ll be right back.”

  I hurried, and soon the brush, and pines swallowed us up. We located the two traps Papa set not too far off. He’d put a few pecans down as bait, never going back to check on them after Seph got sick. I figured nothing would be in them. I was wrong. The small, tan, brain-shaped nuts he’d laid in the center, after cracking the shells between his palms, had enticed two victims. Big old gray squirrels, each hung by the neck. Excited at having squirrel meat, I hurried over to the dangling bodies, and quickly got them down.

  I released Papa’s snares from their necks, and encouraged, I told Laci, “Let’s look for something else to use to bait and reset these traps.”

  Holding on to the squirrels by their tails, I began walking deeper into the woods, looking for an acorn tree while Laci followed. We went further and further, until I finally found one. I laid the squirrels down, and pushed the leaves aside at the base of the trunk to uncover the small, round nuts. I scooped them into my hand, and showed her. She reached out and I put them in her hand to hold. Next I scraped about for a rock to crush them open, thinking if I did half the work, a squirrel might be more inclined to investigate. I found a good-sized one to use, and squatted to dig it out of the dirt.

  When it was free, I reached up and said to Laci, “Here, let me have them acorns.”

  I held my hand midair, only no acorns was dropped. I looked back at her, seen the direction of her gaze. Something about her expression, wide-eyed, caused me to freeze. The acorns she held fell out of her hand right then, scattering around her feet. She was staring at something, and the hairs on my neck pricked straight up. I twisted so I could confront whatever it was, afraid it might get to us before I had the chance to do something. A large red wolf sat not more than thirty feet away. My fingers gripped the rock tight. It didn’t move and neither did we. A few seconds later, two sets of eyes, identical to the momma wolf, peered out from behind her. Pups. She licked her mouth and blinked.

  One of the youngsters poked its nose forward, catching our scent, and the adult let out a low rumble, growling a warning at her pups—or us. The young ones faded into the scrub behind her. I heard Laci breathing fast above my own hammering heart. I began to formulate a plan to run at the wolf screaming and waving my arms if she come at us. Only she didn’t move. I shifted my weight slow and careful, letting my fingers creep along leaf-covered ground to brush one of the squirrel’s tails. I kept my eyes on her as I dragged it towards me so I could grip it in my hands. I rose to my feet slow, deliberate, my gaze locked with hers.

  Bending forward, I tossed one of the squirrels and it landed halfway to her. She curled her lips back to show her teeth. Dear God, don’t let her take it as a threat. I stayed still as she bowed her head low, catching the scent of it. She come forward a step, and raised her head to snarl a warning at us. Even with her aggressive nature, I was certain by now she won’t going to attack. She come forward another step, and another, and when she unexpectedly rushed forward, I stumbled backwards into Laci. The wolf grabbed squirrel and took off the way her pups had gone, her big brushy tail the last I seen of her. Laci’s hands was on my shoulders as I let my breath out.

  I said, “Come on, Laci. Hurry!”

  I didn’t drop the rock. It was all I had if the wolf decided to follow us. I didn’t hear or see no signs of her after that, but resetting the traps won’t going to happen, least not right now. We hurried to the campfire, and I didn’t mention what happened, or else Momma wouldn’t allow me to set foot nowhere.

  I held up the squirrel, triumphant. “Momma, look!”

  It was the first smile I’d seen on her face since Seph passed over.

  Momma said, “Praise God, we’re going to eat good tonight! I’ll stew it if you’ll clean it.”

  I
hurried down to the creek with the squirrel, where I skinned and gutted it and carried it back to Momma. She placed it in the skillet and added water before dragging the pan over a section of our fire. That afternoon it was all I could think about. I only wished it was the time of year for ramps, they would’ve added just the right touch of seasoning and would’ve made stewed squirrel perfect, but I won’t one to complain over not having that little extra.

  Occasionally I’d catch a whiff of it as I went about gathering up wood to keep ourselves stocked. My belly would rumble loud, but it didn’t bother me like before because soon I’d have something to put in it. The breezes died down later in the afternoon, and I was able to get working on the shelter. Momma watched me for a while, and to my surprise she got up and helped.

  As we worked, I said, “It still smells like snow.”

  She glanced up at the gray clouds what looked heavy, like big, bulging sacks ready to burst. When dusk was upon us we finished arranging the boards to suit our needs. I took the quilt, and draped it carefully over the wood. Laci and I gathered up pine branches, and tucked them underneath. Next, I lay the blanket over top of them inside the shelter, and it looked a bit like a snug little cave. I went over to the fire to watch Momma stir the squirrel, and the meat started to fall off the bones. She took the bigger ones out and we sucked on them hard.

  When it come time to eat, we didn’t gulp it down. We ate slow as we could. We savored each bite, and the rich taste nearly brung me to tears. After we cleaned up, we crawled underneath the shelter, and soon the snow went to falling as the light went out of the sky. Heavy, wet flakes come hard, and I worried it would spoil all our hard work. It took no time to coat everything white. I was closest to the opening, and I went out at one point to add more wood to the fire. I took a pine tree branch and tried to knock snow off the top of the shelter, off the quilt, which when wet would weigh too much to hold up. The shelter was good but it won’t going to stand a lot of wet snow, or if the wind come up again.