by Ka Newborrn
“How about her face?” Moose goaded, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Max Factor makeup? False lashes?”
“Cut out some eyeholes.” Lonnie puckered his lips. He put his hands on his hips and swayed to the music.
The mood was jovial as they ate. Lonnie was flipping through the magazine and Moose was dishing out a second helping when they heard a cry for help followed by a weak rap at the front door. They stood up abruptly.
“What’s that?” Moose said. He walked over to the nearest window and pulled down the shade. “You didn’t latch the door, fool!” He sounded harsher than he had intended.
Lonnie tried to conceal his fear. “It’s just a girl, Moose!”
Moose eyed the closed door with suspicion. “Doesn’t matter. Get the rifle!”
Lonnie walked briskly towards the back room.
“Somebody help me, somebody please help me!” the voice called out with urgency. Moose stood to the right of the door. Lonnie returned with the rifle in his arms. He pointed the barrel towards the door and stood off to the left.
Moose opened the door to the darkness. A girl lay there. She appeared to be about thirteen or fourteen. Her head was partially wrapped in a filthy, tattered cardigan sweater. Blonde matted curls littered with twigs peeked out from underneath. Her eyes were circled and wild. Her face and legs were dirty. Her dress was torn. She clutched frantically at her left arm.
“Jesus Christ!” Lonnie said. He lowered the barrel.
Jana swallowed and tried to ignore the dizziness she felt, the ringing in her ears, and the fact that her eyes wouldn’t focus. “Please help,” she croaked. “I’ve been bit.”
“What are you doing here?” Moose asked. “Who are your people?”
“Across the bluff,” Jana murmured. She stood up halfway and stumbled back to her knees.
He knelt beside her and gently examined her arm. Swollen puncture wounds were visible through her torn sleeve.
“Help me get her inside.”
Lonnie stared at the matted hair littered with twigs. “We don’t know her,” he protested, arms crossed in front of his body.
Moose slid his fingers up her neck and felt for her pulse. “Aren't you going to help me?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You’d rather let her die?”
“What if someone finds her here? What if she needs a hospital? What if her people are right behind her and see her with us at one o’clock in the morning?” Lonnie narrowed his eyes and took a step back.
Moose shrugged and dropped Jana’s left side back to the ground. “Fine.” He crossed his arms to match Lonnie’s. “Go on and let her die, then.”
Lonnie pulled her up by her right side. She moaned. “I didn’t say that! I was just asking what we should do!”
“Well, I tell you what she’s going to do,” Moose snarled. “She’s going to die right here if you keep sitting up here acting foolishly and then what’re we going to do?”
Lonnie stood firm. “Her folks come around looking for her and your flaming ass is going to be hanging from a tree. Then what’re you going to do?”
“What would Jesus do?” Jana whimpered. She started to wheeze.
Feeling ashamed, the men scrambled to pick her up. They carried her over to an easy chair by the record player and gently sat her down. “Everything will be just fine, miss,” Moose said. Jana nodded her chin and closed her eyes. Moose grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “But you have to stay with us. You hear me? Stay awake. Okay?”
Jana nodded.
Moose untied the cardigan sweater that was wrapped around her head and picked a few twigs out of her hair.
"I’m going sit here with you, and Lonnie’s going to get a knife and we’ll get you fixed up, okay? But you have to stay awake.”
Her head fell back. The ceiling clouded over. When her eyes focused, Lonnie came towards her with a knife, a wooden spoon, a piece of elastic, a bucket of steaming water and a washcloth.
“I’ll suck out the poison, but I’m not cutting anyone,” Lonnie said. He washed Jana’s wound with steaming water and tied elastic above her elbow. He handed Moose the knife.
“It’s okay,” Moose repeated. Jana whimpered. “Just relax.” He looked at Lonnie. “That blade’s clean?”
Lonnie nodded. “I stuck it in the fire.”
“Get the moonshine,” Moose ordered. “And a glass.”
Lonnie obliged. Moose cradled Jana’s head and tilted it back. He poured a generous shot of the whiskey and urged it to Jana’s lips. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Jana,” she murmured.
“All right then, Jana. Just take a little sip to ease the sting.”
Jana eased her head up and wrapped her lips around the Mason jar that Moose held. The whiskey stung the back of her throat. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to cough.
“That’s it, a little more. I know you can do better than that! That’s it. Now you’re going to feel a little pinch,” Moose warned. “Just a little pinch.”
Jana flinched at the feel of the hot metal on her skin. Lonnie held her steady as Moose cut.
“Bite down on this.” Lonnie placed a wooden spoon between her teeth. "Bite down hard, okay?”
Jana bit as hard as she could while Moose carved an “X” into her forearm. Her eyes screwed shut with pain.
Lonnie took a big swig of moonshine and swished it around his mouth. He fastened his lips to the bleeding wound and sucked and spat into the glass repeatedly. Jana shivered and continued to bite down on the spoon. Moose washed the wound with whiskey and dressed it with a strip of muslin.
Jana’s eyes began to focus. She took in her surroundings for the first time. She felt the cotton padding of the chair with her fingers. Her eyes shifted back and forth between Moose and Lonnie.
“Where did you say your people were?” Moose’s voice resumed its edge of suspicion.
“Across the bluff.” Jana felt the dressing on her wound. “They’re asleep.”
“They’re asleep, huh?” Lonnie scolded. “Well it's very late, Jana. You should be asleep, too. What‘re you doing out here alone at this hour?”
A glimmer of recognition overcame Jana as she tried to focus on the eyes of the man who had sucked the venom from her arm.
“I was following the North Star.”
Despite the unfocused eyes, Moose sensed her embarrassment. “Why were you following the North Star?”
“I was looking for treasure.” She coughed.
A faraway look washed over Lonnie’s eyes.
“The summer after my daddy died of tuberculosis, I was playing in the house with my sister when a tornado hit. Our terrier, Daisy, smelled it and tried to warn us. She pulled at the hem of my momma's dress with her teeth. Momma shooed her away at first, but Daisy continued to growl and knocked a bowl of peeled turnips onto the floor. Then the sky turned green. Momma told us to get in the cellar.
The three of us huddled between the rows of preserves and canned goods for what seemed like ages. Daisy wriggled from person to person, wagging her tail and licking the tears from our cheeks. We thanked her for saving our lives and rewarded her with a jar of tomato preserves. She licked it clean. We laughed at her crusty red snout.
When the spinning stopped, we ascended the ladder and found a pile of sticks and broken glass in the spot where our house used to be. Momma held out her arms. My sister ran into them. Then I looked out beyond the horizon and saw a double rainbow.
I had never seen one before and almost didn't trust my eyes, but I said to my momma, ‘See? Everything’s gonna be alright.’ Then I started running towards it as fast as I could.
Momma hollered, ‘Get back here and stay with us!' And I yelled back, ‘I have to hurry and find the pots of gold before somebody else does!’ And my foolish ass ran off in the direction of the double rainbow. Dust flying in my eyes and ears, falling over sticks, pipes, and rusty nails. Trying to save my momma's heart by finding some d
amn pots of gold."
He trailed off.
“Did you find them?” Jana asked.
“What do you mean?”
“When you got to the end of the rainbow. What was there?”
Lonnie didn't answer.
Moose nudged him. “Stop blubbering over that tired old rainbow story and fix this girl a plate. That moonshine’s probably burning a hole through her stomach.”
Lonnie disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a heaping bowl of stew. Jana savored every mouthful and accepted a second helping.
“Do you always eat this late?"
“We wait until all the work is finished. When Moose is done with his papers and I’m done sewing my napkins."
“Napkins,” Jana said. She squinted at Lonnie. “That’s where I saw you. You were at Mr. Stack’s last Sunday.”
“Yeah. I make his napkins and tablecloths.”
“So you’re a seamstress?”
“Table designer,” Lonnie scoffed. He stuck his nose in the air.
Across the room, Moose placed the stylus at the edge of a record. Bessie Smith's After You've Gone filled the air between them. All surroundings faded away as Jana listened to the music.
She turned to Lonnie. “Who’s singing that?"
“You’ve never heard Bessie Smith before?”
“Bessie Smith?” Tears welled in her eyes. She paused. “It’s like she’s putting a candle up to her heart so you can see inside.”
“That’s why it’s called the blues, baby,” Moose said.
“What’s blue?”
"Don't you know the blues?”
“I’m not allowed to listen to music.”
“Why not?”
“Because its roots are in the devil’s kingdom.”
Lonnie laughed. “Who told you that?”
Jana sighed and licked her spoon. “Some big dummy I know. But I guess I’ll be the first one to burn in Hell because I feel like I know what Nessie’s saying.”
“Bessie,” Moose corrected.
“That’s right. Bessie.” She tried to steady herself and wobbled.
Lonnie showed Jana the sketch of the gown. “Look at this dress. Now imagine it coming to life on Jane Russell. What do you think?”
She hesitated. “On that behind?”
Lonnie closed the sketchbook and rolled his eyes. Moose winked.
“Are you a table designer, too?” Jana looked at Moose.
“No.” Moose said. “I’m a schoolteacher.”
“A schoolteacher?”
“Are you surprised?”
She pulled herself up a little bit. “How did you become a teacher?”
Moose laughed. “Well now, Miss Jana,” he said sarcastically, "the truth comes out. You think all Negroes are laborers by trade? Uneducated boors?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Jana began. “You went to college? In Mississippi?”
Moose looked proud. “I went to Lincoln University in Pennsylvania. It's a respectable and wonderful school. As a matter of fact, it's Langston Hughes’ alma mater.”
“Langston Hughes?"
“He’s a poet. Do you like poetry?”
“I like to read.” Jana managed a tiny smile. "HP Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe, Ambrose Bierce.”
Moose looked impressed. “A gothic at heart, are you, Jana?”
“I guess so.”
“Well I pegged you as more of a poet. You know. Following stars and all.”
“I read lots of things. Where are your books?”
“Mostly up in the sleeping loft. I use that space as my office, too. I sit on the mattress and grade papers.”
Jana looked at the layout of the house. “Well, where’s the other bed?”
Moose stammered. Lonnie interrupted. “I sleep down here on the easy chair. I don’t need much space.”
“I guess not,” Jana agreed.
A long pause followed.
Moose broke the silence. “Didn’t you say you lived over the bluff?”
“Yes.” She paused. “I guess I’d better get back home now.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thanks. Thanks an awful lot to the both of you, Mister.”
“Moose. I’m Moose and this is Lonnie. You know how to get home from here?”
“Retrace my steps in the woods, I guess.”
Moose held out his hand. Jana grasped it. He led her to the window. “Do you see that dirt road to the left?”
“Yes.”
“Follow it a quarter mile and turn left at the fork. That’ll lead you back to the bluff.”
“I never took that road before.”
“It’s a shortcut. It will lead you home. Sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yes sir. Thank you. Thank you for everything.”
Lonnie handed her the torn cardigan. She buttoned it up and waved goodbye as she wandered up the road towards home.
✽✽✽
They heard a knock at the door three nights later. Moose watched in horror as it started to open by itself. He felt at his side for the rifle and crept to the door.
“Who’s there?” He growled and tried to sound menacing, silently cursing Lonnie for forgetting to lock the door again.
“It’s me, Moose.” Jana smiled and held out a paper bag. He didn’t smile back.
“What can I do for you?” His tone was crisp. “I don’t think you left anything here.”
“I just wanted to thank you again.”
“You're welcome.” He started to close the door.
“Wait!” Jana interrupted. “I’ve got bacon! And I wanted to ask you a question because I think you might be a good teacher. There aren’t any good teachers who can answer questions worth a lick at my school.”
“What’s this about bacon?” Lonnie made his way down the loft ladder and saw Moose’s wide frame blocking the door. “I thought I heard something about…Oh.” He stopped. “What’s she doing back here?”
“It seems our visitor let herself in because somebody forgot to latch the door again.”
Lonnie winced. “Oops.”
“Please,” Jana pleaded. “I won’t stay long, I promise. She held out the paper bag. “I, I just brought the bacon as a thank you.”
Lonnie put his hand on Moose’s shoulder. “It’s okay.” Moose glared at his lover and stepped aside.
Jana walked in and handed the paper bag to Lonnie. He peeked inside and pulled out an oblong slab wrapped in foil.
"Thank you, Jana. I’ll fry this up right now.” He handed the paper bag to Moose and headed to the stove. “Get the moonshine, Moose.” he called. “And the good glasses!"
Jana sat in the chair next to the record player and listened to the music.
“Is this Bessie Smith?"
“Billie Holiday."
Moose pulled two books out of the bag and held them at arm's length to read the titles out loud. “The Prophet.” He picked up the second. "The Bhagavad Gita. They're teaching you this in school?”
“No. I found these on my own. Have you read them?”
Moose shook his head. “I’m more familiar with Jacob, Moses, and John the Baptist, but this does look interesting.” He opened the front cover of The Bhagavad Gita. Jana Montgomery was written in copperplate letters.
“That’s nice penmanship you have.”
“Thank you."
A waft of bacon frying filled the room. She paused.
“I wanted to ask you some questions about these books. Maybe if I leave them here you can read them and we can discuss them later.”
“No.” He held the books back to her. “Thank you for the bacon, but I’m not taking anything else from you.”
“Come on, Moose,” Jana pleaded. “What’s the good of having a book if it dies with me?
She hung her head and walked to the door.
“Oh, alright. Leave them here, then.” Moose said.
“Thanks, Moose!”
Lonnie called from the kitchen. “Sit down
while I fix you a plate, Jana.”
“I ate already. But I’ll see you later. Maybe?”
Her heart was buoyant as she opened the door. Moose and Lonnie waved goodbye as she set off in the direction of the bluff.
NATCHEZ, MISSISSIPPI
1954
Stevie
“Hey, Pop?”
“Yeah, Stevie?”
“Could you bring some more napkins out here?” Stevie Stack called from the ice cream counter and into the stockroom where his father was doing inventory.
“Look in the drawer next to the register.” Arnold Stack checked off items in his notebook.
“I already did. It’s empty. Do you have more in the stockroom?”
“I’ll check."
Arnold walked out of the stockroom a few minutes later, tying an apron around his waist.
“Dammit, I guess they’re all at the laundry.”
He walked to the drawer next to the register and checked it. “Lonnie’s supposed to bring some by tomorrow after closing, but I’ll bet they’re ready to go. He usually finishes ahead of time.”
“Call him,” Stevie suggested. “Ask him if he’ll bring them over now.”
“He doesn’t have a phone,” Arnold continued. “But you got legs and you can walk to his place and get them. We open in an hour. I’ll take care of things by myself until you get back.
He opened the register and handed Stevie a silver dollar. “Here. It’s that little log house about a mile and a half up past the thicket beyond Shack Row. Give him the money and bring back the napkins.” Arnold whistled and turned back towards the stockroom.
“You want me to walk through Shack Row?” Stevie’s tone was incredulous. “What kind of Pop are you?”
“The thicket road goes around Shack Row, not through it. And nothing bad ever happens out there anyway, boy. Lonnie and his brother have a nice place, too.”
Arnold watched as Stevie continued to sulk. “What’s the matter, Mr. Football Hero? Afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Stevie spat back. “Lonnie’s the one should be carrying the napkins back, is all.”
“And how is he going to know to carry them here if we can’t call him on the phone to ask, Stevie?”
