An angry wind whipped down from the mountains and tapped Alice on the shoulder. With chattering teeth, she drummed up the courage to open one eye. There was no one there. She shuddered. This time the horrible sensation was the product of fear. It’s gettin’ dark, she thought.
A tree branch snapped in the wood line. “Mama!” she squealed out in terror. But still she was alone. Simmer yourself, she thought. Ma’ll be along soon. While the wind wailed a haunting song, she forced herself to think about her friends.
She could envision them all nestled by a tribal fire, listening to one of the elders spin glorious tales of “great hunts and courageous warriors.” Memories of early winters flashed before her eyes—the beautiful sunsets, roasted chestnuts that led to snowball fights and kissing cute Bobby Simone full on the mouth. She looked up to find her ma grinning, while red-faced Bobby ran away.
Suddenly, in her mind’s eye she was a few years older—wearing her favorite peach polka dot dress. Beneath the whooshing of a weeping willow tree, she shared some nervous conversation with a tall, teenage boy named John. She rambled on and completely opened up, while he nodded his mop of dirty blond hair and hung onto every word.
When it was John’s turn, she recalled him trying to impress her. “I was just about to save the calf from the icy pond …” he was boasting when his animated talk caused him to stumble over tree roots that ran across the ground. John threw out his hands in hopes of bracing the inevitable fall. At first, he didn’t go down but his arms remained extended like a puppet master who had forgotten his toys. Red-faced, gravity quickly insured the rest of his embarrassment. She giggled at his awkwardness.
But that never happened, she thought, her heart racing from the strange experience that had just played out in her mind. While trying to catch her breath, she searched her childhood memories for confirmation. Never happened, she told herself again. Then, like a runaway locomotive threatening to derail, one vivid and unexpected picture after the next headed straight at her.
Alice watched herself—now somewhere in her mid-20s—sitting at an old kitchen table. The telephone rang. She picked it up. It was Mrs. Lecomte, a teacher from the elementary school. Alice listened for a few minutes before replying, “No, Ma’am, I didn’t realize Hank’s had problems readin’.” She listened more and stood. “Well, I know it ain’t ’cause he’s stupid,” she snapped defensively. “And trust me, my boy’s anything but lazy.” She tried to calm her nerves, allowing the woman to finish her spiel. “Yes, Ma’am, I’ll do what I can to encourage him at home,” she promised and hung up the phone. She flopped back down into her seat thinking, What are we ever gonna do with that boy?
The word boy echoed in another chamber of Alice’s mind. What boy? she wondered.
In the next scene, Alice could feel herself crawling out of her skin from excitement. Gray-haired and liver-spotted, she nearly burst through the screen door onto the front porch. With bent fingers, she snatched the swaddled newborn out of the old man’s lap—but not before stealing a kiss from him. “This baby needs to be with his grandma,” she teased, and started for the house with the plump little package nestled safely in her arms. Just inside the shadows, she paused to see the old man pulling a jackknife from his denim overalls. He’s gonna carve Georgey’s name into the seat of that rockin’ chair, she figured, and felt a charge of pure love rip through her body.
An icy wind yanked Alice back into the present. She shook her head, trying to clear it from all the jumbled thoughts that were making her dizzy. She peered down at her trembling hands. They look so old … and wrinkled from the cold, she thought.
In the distance, someone’s heavy breathing moved toward her. The footsteps were foreign and the breathing labored. It definitely ain’t Mama, she decided, and a rush of panic shot out from her chest to all four limbs. The footsteps grew louder. She shut her eyes as tight as she could and held her breath. Dear Lord, please let it be Mama, she prayed.
“Oh God, Ma!” the approaching woman said, panting. “You had us all scared out of our wits!”
Alice felt someone blocking the last sliver of sun and slowly opened one eye. A pretty, young stranger was looking down at her, smiling. Alice took a deep breath and opened the other eye.
Elle bent before Alice and extended her hand. “Come on now. It’s time to go home,” she said.
Alice shook her head and looked away.
Elle smiled, compassionately. “It’s okay, Ma. I’m here to take you home,” she said and kept her hand extended.
Ma? Alice thought and didn’t know what to do—or think. Reluctantly, she took the stranger’s hand. As she rose, her stiff bones creaked and complained. She felt wet and cold with the wind hitting her backside.
“I think you took another year off Pa’s life.” Elle chuckled and finished pulling Alice to her unsure feet. The stranger’s familiar touch surprised Alice but she didn’t question it. Instead, she followed her every step.
As they made their way through the frosted meadow, Alice stopped short.
“What is it?” Elle asked, startled by the sudden halt.
“I ain’t supposed to …” Alice began, but the thought of staying behind felt a lot scarier than following along. And then another thought hit her; a happier thought from a different place and time.
Alice was young again and holding hands with that lanky, blond-haired boy—John. They’d just arrived at a farmhouse and, except for the candle that burned brightly in one of the bedroom windows, they found it in complete darkness. John whispered to her, “It’s my ma’s way of welcoming you home.”
She smiled wide and then the truth hit her. “Your ma knows we eloped?” she asked.
John laughed. “Just wait here. I’ll be right back.” He snuck in, blew out the candle and then led her into the barn.
Once inside, he turned to her and extended his hand. “May I have this dance, Mrs. McCarthy?”
“You’re as crazy as a June bug, Mr. McCarthy,” she said. “I don’t hear no music.”
John pulled her to him. “Well then,” he said, “you ain’t listenin’ hard enough are ya?”
While the moon poured through the loft and illuminated their silhouettes, they began to sway in each other’s arms. The soft kisses turned passionate, while Alice helped John off with his shirt. He led her to a bed of hay where they lay together, naked. And for hours, they finally found out what it meant to be all grown up.
More confused than ever, Alice gasped for breath. She looked at Elle—who was still waiting patiently. Alice tried to speak but the words got stuck. It was all she could do to pat down the giant lump in her throat. “I’m just not sure about anything,” she finally admitted, while tears swelled in her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” Elle said, rubbing her back. “We’ll get you home and get you all cleaned up. You’ll feel better after you rest … I’m sure of it.”
While Elle resumed the escort, Alice began to weep. Somethin’ ain’t right, she thought, and then everything became hazy again.
By the time the darkness had completely crept in, they were in someone’s house. The friendly stranger gave Alice two pills and tucked her into bed. Alice was grateful but wondered, Why don’t she just take me home and put me in my own bed?