In the Fields Read online

  She always has a smile for me, but never asks if I want to stay awhile. I always wish she would, but know better than to ask. Today Sadie is wearing a handkerchief around her head and has a bowl in her hand, stirring, as Isaiah goes in the house. Maybe if I rush home, I can talk to him a little longer before my parents get there.

  WE LIVE ON the outskirts of town, just a mile or so past Isaiah’s house, but the scenery changes dramatically as soon as I turn the corner. Fields of fruit grow on one side of the road and a pasture for the Talbots’ horses stretches out on the other side. Our house is a little rambler on the far corner of the Talbot’s field. On the edge of town lie beautiful green mountains and we are nestled in the first valley.

  Mama says we would be well off if Daddy wouldn’t drink away our money. Daddy says we’d be well off if she’d stuck to pageants and to just shut up. It never goes too far because Mama does bring home the money. She has had her job for fifteen years and even though she’s constantly remembering the good ole days when she didn’t have to do anything but look pretty, I think she actually likes her job. She would never admit it, but I assume she does since she’s there every waking minute. Even Saturdays.

  When Daddy is having a good bout, he works construction in Tulma and the neighboring towns. Once he made it a year without taking a drink, but eventually he gave in and went back to the bottle. This time has been three months of solid drinking, and I’m beginning to think the daddy I used to know is gone.

  When I was little, Daddy would tell me stories, not just little nursery rhymes, but long, detailed stories that he would add to each night. Clovis the Bunny was one of my favorites and if I was sick, or had a bad dream, or just couldn’t sleep, Daddy would come in and tell me the adventures Clovis had been in that day. Nothing could make me laugh like the thought of Clovis hanging from our curtains or Clovis scaring the postman by talking like an old lady.

  I can see my house just a football field ahead. I try to remember all the nice things about my daddy in the time it takes to get to the door. If I think nice things about him, it will stick. He will remember to be strong and will come home sober and happy.

  When I finally reach the door, I’m sweating like my Aunt Josephine, who always has wet marks under her armpits. Josh is so happy to see me; he does a little dance around my feet. This is the one time of day that I’m happy to be home. Just me and my dog.

  I step in the shower and wash quickly with cold water and get out just in time to hear the phone ringing. Isaiah knows the exact time to call. I run to the phone and we talk for an hour and a half today. I stretch it out until I hear my mom’s car turning in the driveway.

  I’ve been preparing supper as I talk to Isaiah. The cornbread is ready to come out of the oven, the black-eyed peas are simmering on the stove, and the pork chops are all ready.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I whisper to Isaiah.

  “Sweet dreams, Caroline,” he whispers because I’m whispering.

  “Sweet dreams back.”

  This is our hanging-up ritual. I know I won’t get a chance to talk to him again for the night. I hang up quickly before my mom can catch me on the phone with him. We’re very careful to not get caught. She would never approve of me loving a black boy.

  DADDY DIDN’T COME home last night and Mama is spittin’ mad. She’s already up when I come out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. There are no pancakes on the table, in case you were wondering.

  Mama is pacing the floor, muttering to herself, while Josh tries to keep up with her fast strides. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but there are a few four-letter words flying around that she has always instructed me to never dream of saying, on account of it not being ladylike and all.

  I get done with the chores a good ten minutes earlier than usual. I don’t want to stick around any longer than necessary. I shock Miss Greener—she’s used to me running down the road while she holds the bus for me.

  Clara Mae invites me to come over to her house the next day and I tell her I have to check with my mother. Lord knows, I don’t need to rile her up any more than she already is.

  I barely see Isaiah today. In gym, we take a break from the waltz and are divided into teams for dodge ball. I was hoping to have a little chat with Isaiah, but instead I’m running for my life to avoid the ball. He’s on my team, so we’re in close proximity, but neither of us speaks to the other. It’s hard to not stare at him, but I try to save all my looks for our walk home.

  MY GRANDMA, NELLIE, surprises me by picking me up from school. I wish I could let Isaiah know that I’m not walking home with him, but you don’t make Nellie wait around. She’s in an extra hustle-bustle mood.

  “Your mama said you need some new clothes,” she says when I get in the car. She drives a black ‘57 Chevrolet Bel-Air with a white hardtop. My grandpa washes it every Saturday. Nellie says Paw loves it more than he loves her, and I’d say it’s not too far from the truth. They might be neck and neck.

  We drive to the fabric store and she lets me pick out material for three dresses, six blouses, and three skirts. She absolutely will not let me pick out material for pants. If I’m gonna do such a heathen thing like wear pants, I’m gonna have to get them on my own dime, she says. She gripes about the fashions all the way home from the store.

  “That girl in there was wearin’ her pants so tight, I could see her religion!” she huffs.

  My grandma is an exceptional seamstress. Even though I would like to wear pants sometimes, she makes such beautiful dresses that I can’t feel bad about it. Clara Mae says she’d give anything to wear a dress like my white poplin one with the blue glass buttons. Now that I’ll finally have something else to wear, I can give it to her.

  When we get to her house, I help carry in the fabric and go to the back bedroom to get measured. I’ve grown two and a half inches since the last time we did this. I’m taller than anyone in my class, but didn’t realize I had grown so much in the last few months. Isaiah must be growing right along with me, because he’s still taller than me by a couple inches.

  I blush as Nellie says, “Girl, we need to get you a new bra yesterday!” I’ve noticed that things are progressing quite rapidly there, but haven’t known exactly what to do about it. I don’t tell Nellie about wrapping a small tablecloth around my chest until Mama takes me to get a new bra. She would ask why I don’t just tell my mother mine is way too small now, but I can’t explain how that would humiliate me to no end.

  Thankfully, in third grade, Jody told me everything about “my visiting aunt Dottie,” so I knew what to expect when that came a while ago. Jody failed second and third grade and was extremely proud to know something that none of us knew. I didn’t believe her at first, but she was telling it straight. I never told Mama when I got it and she has never asked.

  I sit by Nellie and cut the material while she threads the machine. She has her own handmade patterns that she pins onto the material. She lets me sew all the easy seams while she takes a turn at cutting. We’ve done this many times, since as far back as I can remember. I think I could probably do it myself, but it’s more fun with her.

  My Nellie is tall and very skinny. She hunches over the machine like a spindly match. When I hug her, I can feel her bones jutting out, but she’s still nice to hug. Her white hair sits atop her head, invoking thoughts of an imposing schoolmarm. She has always insisted I call her Nellie. When I think about it, I’m not really certain why she doesn’t like Grandma and think I will ask her why.

  “Nellie, why have you never wanted me to call you Grandma?”

  She stops cutting and has a pin in her mouth when she answers, “Child, do I look old enough to be a grandma?”

  “Well, yes,” I say. My, aren’t we brave today.

  Her eyes narrow and for a minute I am very afraid. You just never know what will set off Nellie. Another minute creeps by and then she throws her head back and lets out a loud guffaw. Nellie can laugh like nobody’s business.

  Reli
eved, I laugh too.

  Grandpaw wanders back to our room and asks, “What’s all the commotion back here?” When he says here, it sounds like heah.

  “Hi, Grandpaw, how are ya?” I get up to hug his thick middle.

  He hugs me tight, patting my head and says, “Hey, Little Caroline, how you?”

  And then, “Have I told you about the nigger who went into the five and dime?”

  Honestly, it has not even been one minute. Here we go.

  “Yes, Grandpaw, you have…” I roll my eyes as he repeats the punch line for probably the millionth time. I’ve given up trying to get him to stop talking like this. He doesn’t need me to laugh because he’s already laughing so hard. Nellie is laughing right alongside him.

  SIX HOURS LATER and I have half of a new wardrobe. We whipped up the skirts, four of the blouses and got a good start on the dresses. I must admit that my new clothes are exquisite. I thank Nellie as we’re driving home.

  “Oh, glad to do it, Honey. Lord knows you deserve a little something pretty.”

  When we pull up to the house, the lights are off. Mama’s car is not in the driveway. Daddy’s truck isn’t either.

  “Where do you suppose everyone is?” Nellie asks. “It’s late.”

  “Oh, they’ll probably be home before too long. Mama sometimes works late during the week.” I don’t mention Daddy’s lack of attendance last night.

  “Well, do you want to stay with us tonight? I don’t like leaving you out here all by yourself,” she says as she stifles a yawn.

  “No, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to bed.”

  “Well, if you’re sure…” she pauses, then seems satisfied with my answer.

  “Goodnight, Grandma,” I whisper that last part and she swats my backside as I get out of the car.

  I hear Mama come in around midnight. I’ve dozed off and on, but can’t help but worry about her. I’m relieved when I finally hear the door latch and her heels clacking softly in the living room. She has been working so hard lately. Last week, she came in late three nights and was dragging around the rest of the week. Before I drift off to sleep, I think that her boss, Mr. Anderson, is so cruel to take a mother away from her daughter like he has all these years.

  I FIRST NOTICED Leroy and Les a month ago. I was downtown with Miss Greener, picking out seeds to plant in our gardens. She has taken me flower shopping the last two springs, after we realized our mutual passion for flowers. I was softly touching the wisteria blooms and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the commotion by the cashier.

  Two guys that looked a little older than me were laughing and weaving in and out through the plants. The taller one, Leroy, had grabbed a shovel and was chasing the shorter guy, Les, around the store. I was laughing until Mr. Clayton, the owner, came around the counter and grabbed the guy holding the shovel.

  “Boy, give me that right now and get outta here,” Mr. Clayton was not quite as tall as Les and Leroy seemed to know it.

  He put the shovel up to Mr. Clayton’s neck and said, “Ask nice.”

  “I don’t have to ask nicely, it’s my shovel,” Mr. Clayton growled.

  Leroy dug the shovel into Mr. Clayton’s neck just enough to make his face turn all red. The other boy stood, laughing, egging on Leroy.

  “Please put down the shovel,” Mr. Clayton said.

  Leroy, taking his slow, sweet time, gradually let the shovel inch down.

  When the shovel was leaning against the counter, Mr. Clayton said, “Now, I said to get out of here, boy.”

  They turned on him so fast, it was a blur. Leroy smashed Mr. Clayton in the nose and knocked him down. Les took over then, his fists flying, as blood poured out on the floor. Leroy grabbed the shovel again and I don’t know what he would have done next if someone in the back hadn’t called the police.

  Kenny, a good-sized farmer grabbed Leroy before he used the shovel on anyone. That gave Ben and Samuel the nerve to pull Les off of Mr. Clayton. Several people had tried to step in, but just got hurt in the process. Sheriff Sanders threw a handcuffed Leroy and Les in the back of the squad car and Mr. Clayton was taken in an ambulance to the hospital two towns over, since he was in such bad shape.

  Miss Greener and I hightailed it out of there, grateful to get away. My parents came home talking about it; word had gotten out around town that Mr. Clayton had been beaten up by two black boys. It sparked a whole week of conversations about how bad this area is getting, how black people are just taking over and what are we going to do if they can just pick up a shovel and beat someone up in the local flower market?

  Isaiah and I talked about it on the phone that night.

  “Leroy and Les are angry. About everything and everyone.”

  “Why do you think it got worse when Mr. Clayton called Leroy “boy”?

  “It’s a matter of respect. They shouldn’t have done all that they did, but he shouldn’t have called him “boy” either.”

  I didn’t understand what was so wrong about that, but vowed since it bothered Isaiah so much that I would never do it either.

  IT HAS BEEN more than a little unsettling since Leroy and Les have gotten out of jail. They only spent two weeks in there and it doesn’t seem to have fazed them. This past week it seems as if I see them everywhere. The first time I saw them, I was waiting for Nellie outside the Piggly Wiggly. I was lost in thought, as usual, daydreaming.

  “What are you doing out here all by yourself?” Leroy asked, as they circled me. He reached out and touched my collar, “You’re lookin’ mighty fancy.”

  I stood still and did not breathe, willing my face to not turn red. Up close, Leroy and Les look older than I thought, maybe sixteen or even seventeen.

  “The cat got your tongue? You think you’re all high and mighty? You too good for us?” Les sneered his ugly old gold tooth in my face.

  “No, I don’t think I’m too good,” I whispered.

  “Oh, she speaks!” Leroy said. “Ain’t you something…” He had his hand on my sleeve when Nellie came out.

  She marched over to us and said, “Come on, Caroline, let’s get home.”

  “Caroline, her name’s Caroline, did you hear that, Les?” Leroy mocked. He looked me over again and came near me one more time. It wasn’t intentional, but just as he came closer to me, I took a nervous step and his shoe caught on mine. He went flying. He was stunned for only a moment and then he jumped up and brushed the dirt off his pants.

  “I didn’t mean to do that!” I cried.

  He kept his distance, but then spit, and the spittle came just short of landing on my right shoe.

  Then I wished I had done it on purpose.

  Nellie dragged my arm all the way to the car. “Oh, Caroline, I’m afraid you’ve started something now. You stay away from them boys.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice.

  When I get around to telling Isaiah about this encounter, he sounds scared. “I don’t trust them. I know you take care of your-” he pauses an uncomfortable length, “just—will you tell your parents about this, Caroline? Don’t try to handle them on your own. I wish you weren’t on their radar now. They’re dangerous.” He groans and I wish I could see him instead of just hearing him on the phone right now. It would make me feel a lot better.

  I nod and when he says my name to see if I’m still there, I say yes out loud and hope that he will change the subject. There’s no way I’m telling my parents about this.

  I DECIDE TO give Clara Mae the excuse that I can’t come to her house because I didn’t get to ask Mama's permission. We plan for me to come over next week. I really just want to go home because I miss Isaiah and want to actually see him when we talk today.

  At the end of the day, when we have finally said good-bye to the rest of the group, Isaiah says, “I don’t have to go right home today, Mama had to go see her sister this afternoon. So I can walk you home, if you’d like.”

  “Really? I’d love it if you could.”

  T
his hasn’t happened before. I’m so glad I didn’t go home with Clara Mae.

  We talk and talk and I’m telling him about my daddy not coming home again and Mama also staying out late all the time. He tells me if I ever get scared to call his house and let it ring three times and he’ll find a way to call me back.

  “I wish you lived even closer to my house, so I could be right there if you ever need me.” Isaiah looks over at me and holds out a flower for me. I take it and smile. “Close enough that you could just flash a light and I’d come runnin’.”

  He takes my hand now that we’re away from town. It never fails to make my stomach drop down to my big toes.

  “I still will, you know.” He stops and faces me. “If you’re ever home by yourself and scared, call me and I’ll be here in two seconds flat. My bike has superpowers. And I have it set to come straight to you.”

  I laugh and we start walking again.

  “Caroline?”

  I look at him and we stop again, lost in each other.

  “I’m gonna make you laugh every day for as long as you let me,” he vows.

  My cheeks get hot and he chuckles. He puts his hand near my face like he’s going to touch it and then snaps it back like it’s been burned. I laugh harder and I’m sure my cheeks are smoking steamstacks by now.

  We’re in the fields by my house, taking our time, when Leroy and Les ride by on their bikes. I’ve never seen them out here and don’t want them to know where I live.

  “Isaiah, let’s just walk past my house,” I whisper.

  They pull up right in front of us, blocking our way. “What’s going on here? Where do you think you’re going?”

  Isaiah says, “Leave us alone, Leroy.”

  “You don’t live out here,” Leroy says. “Aw, I get it, you want a little one on one.” He snickers and turns to Les. “He likes the white bitch.” He does a singsong voice, “Prissy white bitch.” He loses the laugh and snarls. “I think we’ve interrupted something here. Y’all headed to your lovenest?”