From the kitchen window I watched Willa Mae trudge up the driveway toting a satchel stuffed full with what looked like everything she owned. And I said to no one but myself, since Grace Annie was asleep, “What in a pickle barrel is Willa Mae doing?” I left the pots soaking, dried my hands, and ran out to ask her. I never got a word out of my mouth. No sooner had the door swung shut behind me when she called out.
“I’m gwine to dat Savannah place down on da ocean.” She dropped the satchel next to the stoop and sat on the bottom step. “Oooooh,” she said. “Loss my wind, chile, toting all dis.”
“You should have come and got me. I’d have helped you,” I said.
“Gonna see dat pretty water. Promised me I would ’fore I head ta’ glory. Ain’t getting no younger.”
“You’re going off by yourself?” That didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Dat I am. Got a cottage all set on the beach at dat Tybee Island spot. Gonna watch the sun come up on dat pretty water and plant my feet in the sand dey got there, too.” Murphy’s truck pulled up on the dirt driveway. Worry jumped out of the truck bed and bounded over to the porch.
“You all set?” Murphy called out.
“Jis’ waiting on you’s,” Willa Mae said. She pointed to her bag. Murphy placed it in the truck.
“Hold on,” Willa Mae said. “Almost forgot dis.” She opened the satchel and pulled out Tempe’s journal.
“You keeps dis for me, honey,” she said and handed it to me.
“But Murphy said you ain’t never let this book out of your sight,” I said.
“Till now dat be’s true. I know it be safe by you, chile.” She placed in it my arms. “You kin reads more from it, you wants—”
“Where’d you get this journal, Willa Mae?”
“Bes’ I remember it be tucked in my cradle, and I totes it round eber since,” she said.
It wasn’t enough to satisfy my curiosity, and I pestered her a bit more, but that’s all she’d tell me.
“Things in life be important, you needs find out for yourself. Dat way you won’ts never forgets ’em. And dis be something best nobody never forgets.”
“Won’t be the same you don’t read it to me.”
“Well you kin waits. Dats for you to decide. I gots to be gwine, now.” She gave me a hug.
“How long you planning on staying?” I said.
“Ain’t decided dat yet. I’ll send word and da address if you like when I gits it.” Murphy helped her into the truck.
“I’ll miss you,” I called out. “Me and Grace Annie both.”
“Give dat sweet baby a kiss and a hug,” she said. “I be’s back!” Murphy loaded her stuff into the truck and they were off. I was happy for Willa Mae if she wanted to stay by the ocean a spell, but I hated seeing her leave. She was part of each day. Not counting Grace Annie, the best part. What was I gonna do without her? I was going to get myself in serious trouble, that’s what. This is where that chain of events I mentioned to you earlier picked up a good deal of momentum.
There was always plenty of work to do what with chickens and the laundry I took in, along with caring for Buck and Grace Annie. Even so, I was working on a good life for us, and once Buck grew up a bit, I figured we’d pretty much have it made.
During the weeks before Willa Mae left for Savannah, I built up a heap of confidence in my chicken farming abilities. I’d made a lot of good decisions, and the profits showed it. But I made a bad one, too. I forgot to tell Murphy about the leak in the roof of the breeder house.
I set out to fix it myself that day he took Willa Mae to Savannah. I put Grace Annie down for her nap and gathered up the tools and pieces of wood I needed and hoisted them up the ladder. Climbing up and getting situated on the corner of the house where the boards had rotted away wasn’t any problem. My plan was to be finished long before Grace Annie woke from her nap, hungry and in need of a change. That’s not how it worked out. I’m not sure just what happened or where I went wrong with how I went about fixing the part of the roof that needing fixing. All I know is my foot went through a section that didn’t have a hole in it when I stepped on it, but it had a good size one once I did.
That hole swallowed my leg clear up to my hip and my foot was twisted and caught up in the crossboards. Something sharp sliced though my overhauls and cut into my leg. I knew I was bleeding. It’s not that I could feel it; strange as it sounds I think I could smell it, a metallic odor that floated upward and made me dizzy. I yanked at my leg to free it, but it wouldn’t budge. My boot was stuck in the crevice where the corner boards of the roof joined together. The more I struggled the weaker I got. I might have lost touch with time for a spell. The next thing I knew, Grace Annie was hollering to be picked up, and it seemed I’d just put her down. The sound of her cries told me she’d been at it for awhile. There was hoarseness to her wails I’d never heard before. It near broke my heart. I wasn’t one to let her cry whenever she started in.
The sun had been high, near overhead when I’d climbed up the ladder. Now it had slipped almost to the horizon. My leg buried in the coop was numb, and the one plopped beneath me on the roof wasn’t too much better. Again I struggled to free myself and failed.
“Help!!!” I yelled. “Please! Help!!” Maybe Murphy would hear me, though it wasn’t likely. He was probably still on his way back from Savannah.
The wind picked up. It was blowing strong, drowning out everything. I could barely make out Grace Annie’s cries, and she wasn’t but thirty feet away. There was no telling when Murphy would get back. It could be hours. And even then, there’d be no reason to come over here. I was in trouble, and my poor baby along with me.
I struggled and yelled the entire afternoon to no avail, whatsoever. When the sun set, eventually the wind died down. I screamed even louder. No answer came. I drifted in and out of a strange kind of sleep. The next time I became aware of my predicament, it was dark. Grace Annie wasn’t crying any longer. Not even the pathetic little wails I’d last heard her make. Her being so quiet worried me to a panic.
“Grace Annie!” I yelled to her. “Grace Annie! Can you hear Mama? Wake up and cry!” Nothing. She didn’t respond. No one responded. Only the sound of my own voice, hysterical and sobbing into that black night, came to greet me. And then, it was over.
I heard Murphy’s truck pull up in front of the cabin. Worry bolted from the bed of the pick-up and made a dash for the chicken coop.
“Adie?” Murphy yelled out.
“Up here,” I called back weakly. “Up here—” Worry stood below me barking. Murphy ran towards the coop.
“Adie, what in thunder—”
“Go see about Grace Annie,” I said. “Please go see about her first, Murphy,” I said. “I ain’t heard her cry for hours!”
“I will in a minute, Adie,” he said. “I got to see how bad you’re hurt first. You bleeding?”
“I don’t know. I can’t feel a thing in my leg,” I said. Murphy climbed up and punched the roof with his bare hands, cutting chunks of skin from his knuckles.
“Jeez, Adie,” he said. He attempted to free my foot from the crevice and inched my leg out of the hole.
“Aaaaahhh,” I screamed.
“Hang on,” he said. “Your ankle’s broke. This gonna hurt some.” I near passed out when he freed my foot from the crevice and inched my leg out of the enlarged hole he’d made with his bare hands. He plopped me over his shoulder like I was a sack of baby onions and backed down the ladder. Then he carried me in his arms like a man does his bride and placed me on the front seat of the truck. Worry followed along whining and begging to get close.
“Get Grace Annie…she’s in her crib.” Murphy took his shirt off. There was a ragged cut on my leg just above the knee that traveled clear to my groin. Murphy folded his shirt in half and wrapped it tight around my leg, then made a run for the cabin. He came out with Grace in his arms.
I gasped when he handed her to me. Her body was limp and her eyes were closed.
“Grace Annie! Oh, Grace Annie!” I said. “I’ll never forgive myself! Never!” I grabbed her and clutched her to my chest. She let out a howl to wake Dixie’s dead. Poor thing had just cried herself out and fell sound asleep. I started laughing hysterically but quickly ended up crying right along with her. I looked over at Murphy. His face was more serious than I’d ever seen it; his hands tight on the wheel. He glanced at us every few seconds, then placed his eyes back on the road.
“You okay, Adie?” he kept saying. “You okay?” I was checking on Grace Annie and then glancing on him, tears running down my face. And all the while I was thinking, Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Buck were like Murphy? A man who took care of me? Who pounded holes in roofs with his bare hands? Who said sweet things to me like, ‘You okay, Adie? You okay?’ and said it with a look of concern so sincere it left marks on my heart. Wouldn’t that be something?
More likely, it’d be a miracle.