fiction

Charley’s Tale Part 6

Marzell was back in ten minutes.  “I don’t guess I can go.  Mom said we didn’t move the fishing poles and tackle box.

“That’s okay,” Charley reassured her.  “We’ve got plenty.  Sometimes we all go.  If Ginny catches us, she’ll have to tag along, so we’ll take an extra for her.  You can dig a few worms while I fetch the gear.  Don’t run off squealing.”

“I’ll be fine.  I eat worms for breakfast!”  Marzell quipped.

Charley ran in just long enough to get some pants on  and yell to Cora.  “Cora,  I’m going fishing.  Tell Ginny to come on down if she wants to.”

“Okay, but don’t be late for supper.  Here’s a couple of apples to hold you over.”

“Better make it three, Cora.  A friend is with me.” Charley told her.  Cora smiled to herself, glad to know Charley had a companion.  It had been a long time.  Ginny burst in the back door, banging her books on the kitchen table.  “Ginny, I ‘m going fishing.  Come on down to the creek if you want to.”

“Okay!” Ginny answered as she grabbed a couple of cookies.

The girls dropped their lines off a five foot embankment into to sandy-bottomed creek.  Small sunfish were tempted by the worms dangling before them, but were too small to get the bait n their mouths.  Occasionally, a nice white perch took interest and was added to the stringer.  Eventually, seven white perch and a catfish hung in the cool water.  “I’d better get home for supper,” Marzell announced, starting to get things together.

“Can you stay for supper?” Charley asked.  “Cora always cooks my fish for me.”

“I’ll have to ask Mother.” Marzell replied.

As soon as they got back to Charley’s, Charley told Cora they had fish to cook.  “I thought you might.” Cora laughed.  I’m just about to put some chicken on to fry.  Bring me them fish as soon as they cleaned and I’ll fry them up for you.  Marzell, call your mama and ask if it’s okay for you to stay to supper.”

Cora set an extra place for Marzell and set a sizzling platter of fried chicken and fish In front of Charles and the girls.  “Dr. Charles, you can thank the girls for this nice mess of fish.  Charley, you know catfish is my favorite, so I am taking that one home for my supper.  Next time, you’d better catch two if you want one.  You girls don’t forget to clear away and I’ll do the dishes in the morning.”

Charles was delighted Charley had a guest, but was careful not to make much of it.  “I thank you girls for the fish.  I could each fish every night.  Maybe you’d better go every day.”

“I’d a heap rather fish very day than go to school,” Charley answered.

“Me, too!” said Marzell.  “School can be a pain.”

Charley’s Tale Part 4

Resuming the serial , Charley’s Tale . If missed previous episodes, check out this link.

https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2024/06/14/charleys-tale-introduction/

That day was misery for Charley, sure everyone knew her humiliating secret. Not for the first time, she wished she had a friend to talk to, but had learned to guard herself carefully to avoid exposing herself to treacherous classmates.  Now that she had reason to be interested, she realized she’d heard girls giggling about “that time” and asking friends to “”check the back of my skirt.”  She saw Margie Smith slip quickly  into to gym teacher’s office and hurry to the bathroom and realized the reason.  She slogged miserably through the next couple of days, terrified she’d give her secret away.

During study hall that day, she projected how many days would be ruined before she was forty and decided she just wouldn’t tolerate the indignity.  Waiting till Cora went home for the evening, she emptied all the ice trays in the bathtub and lay in the tub as long as she could bear it, before washing her hair in the frosty water.  Hard cramps and a splitting headache rewarded her efforts.  She asked her father for some aspirin for the headache, avoiding mention of the cramps. Cora had apprised him of her situation, so he was prepared.

“Sure, Charley.  Can I get you a hot water bottle.? If you having cramps, that might help.  I only wish your mother could be here for you, now,” he told her.  It was so hard raising girls without a mother.  At least Cora was there for them.

Charley whirled and went to her room, mortified her father knew her humiliating secret.  “I don’t need a hot water bottle!”  Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged an admission of cramps out of her. Leaving the room in a huff, she pulled on her warmest flannel pajamas and went straight to bed with no sanitary pad, assuming she’d put a stop to her menstrual flow, thanks to Cora’s warnings.  She slept deeply and peacefully once she finally warmed up, but was appalled to awaken to blood-stained pajamas and sheets.  Charley felt betrayed by her own body and Cora.  She’d taken her warnings as a promise.  Ginny darted in her room, saw the causality and reacted with horror.  “Ginny, get out!  Now!”

“Daddy!  Cora!  Come quick!  Charley’s bleeding!”  She called out.

Charles started to rise from his paper and breakfast.  “Don’t!  I’ll go.”  Cora said.  “You’ll shame her.”  She trudged up the stairs.  “Ginny, you go on down.  I’ll help Charley.  She probably scratched the scab off a sore on her leg.  Scat!”  Ginny didn’t look convinced, but went to breakfast.

“Oh, baby, your pad musta slipped out of place.  Go get cleaned up and I’ll take care of all this.  Just run a little warm water in the face bowl and clean up with a washcloth.  You can’t take a bath now!  It’ll make you stop!”  Cora said “make you stop!” like it was the gtavest of all threats.

“No, it won’t!  I was trying to get it stoped an’ took an ice bath last night!  It didn’t stop nothing!  You was lying to me!” Charley’s mouth quivered with betrayal and hurt.  Cora, her hero and protector had let her down.

Cora was stern.  “Now, I know you hurtin’ an’ you hate all this growin’ up, but I been raisin’ you your whole life.  I ain’t never lied to you in yore life an’ I never will, but I ain’t puttin’ up with none of yore back talk.  They’s some things in life you gonna haf to put up with, like it or not.  Do you think I been livin’ this long an’ had everthing my way? I had to put up with the curse, an’ I had to put up with a man that drank and beat me till somebody cut up him in a knife fight.  I ain’t saying I missed him none, but it did leave me to raise three chillun by myself.  We ’bout starved till I got started doin’ for y’all.  Now, is you gonna git movin’ or do I haf to git yo daddy?”

“I’ll get ready.  I didn’t mean to be sassy.” Charley backed down.

“I know you ain’t meant no harm.  Just stick an extra pad in yore pocket an’ come down to breakfast.  Ginny an’ yore daddy are worried ’bout you.” Cora told her.

“Be down in a minute.”  Charley gave Cora a question city hug.  “I know you ain’t never lied to me.

Charley’s Tale Part 28

Charlie fell into bed that night aching with fatigue.  It seemed he’d just shut his eyes when Bessie opened his door, “Wake up!  Them cows is calling you!”  He learned to hate that phrase long before the week was out.  Sore and stumbling with sleep, he filed out to the milking.  Though his hands protested, he got the hang of it and stripped one cow by the time the time Robert and Freddy were done with the other six.  He made up his mind to do two tomorrow.  The barn cats danced behind his cow as he squirted milk in their mouths, unconcerned at his substandard milking. While Freddy turned the cows in the lot with their calves, Robert and Charlie slopped the hogs, fed the horses and chickens, and gathered eggs.

Egg-gathering seemed easy enough until Charlie reached into a nest and pulled out a long back snake.” He pitched it down, screaming, and ran. Freddy laughed hysterically while Robert scurried after the snake. Picking it up, he popped it like a whip, snapping its head off.  “I guess that’s the last of the eggs you’ll git, you ol’ devil.  That’s just a chicken snake, Charlie.  He hangs around the barn stealing eggs.  He wouldn’t hurt you if he did bite you. But, it wouldn’t hurt to look before poking your hand in dark places.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”  Charlie laughed.  “I took off so fast it like to took me a half a day to walk back.”

“I think somethin’s or somebody’s been dipping’ in my corncrib. The last three mornin’s I noticed the shelled corn in the bib was hollered out a little. I ain’t accusing nobody, but I think we’ll git out there a little early in the morning an’ see cain’t we catch em. Let’s git this milk an’ eggs in an’ git us some breakfast. I’m so hungry my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.” Robert led the way with heavy, cloth-covered milk buckets.

That day was the beginning of a farmer’s life for Charlie.  Over the course of the summer, he learned the business of breeding and birthing stock, cultivating and gathering crops, building fences, haymaking, mechanicking on the old truck and tractor, repairing outbuildings, and many other farm tasks at hand.  As he worked alongside the others, his muscles grew long and bulked up.  As his estrogen levels dropped after surgery, his breasts lost mass and he sprouted the beginnings of a beard.  He was beginning to look more the person he’d always known he was.

Charley’s Tale Part 27

 

Mr. Grady had thoughtfully put his cow in with Ol’Bully before coming in for breakfast, an expedient decision, since Ol’ Bully would have kicked the fence to get to her in her enticing state. By the time the men got back, the deed was done and Ol’ Bully was bumping the gate, anxious to get back to the tall, sweet grass and his bevy of beauties. A fickle creature, he had no further interest in the fair lady he’d just won.

Though Robert was anxious to get to work, Mr. Grady pulled a can of Prince Albert Tobacco from the bib of his overalls. Stalling, he offered the tobacco and pack of cigarette papers. “Help yourself, Robert, lessen you got some ready roll you’d care to share.”

“No sir, Mr. Grady. I ain’t never got the habit. You go ahead. Me an’ the boys got to git to work. I hate I ain’t got visitin’ time today, but we got a long day ahead of us.” Robert had lived on the farm next to Grady for years and never been invited to call him by his first name, though Mr. Grady and his boys had always addressed him as Robert. It still stung a little, though it was the way he’d grown up.

”They is one more thing I need to ast you.  My old mule died and  I got to git my garden broke up. Kin I use your tractor, today?” Mr. Grady patted the fender of the red International parked by the barn.

”Mr. Grady, my tractor’s broke down.  This one here belongs to Miss Geneva’s farm an’ ain’t mine to loan, but I can loan you my mule.  I’ll catch him for you.  He kind of feisty since he don’t got worked a lot, but I know them big ol’ boys of yours can handle him.” Robert offered.

”Naw, that won’t help me none.   I done throwed my back out an can’t plow.  I can’t count on them boys.  Three ‘em is off workin’ somewhere’s, three’s a courtin’, and one’s down with toothache.   I can’t never keep up with them fellers.  I ain’t had time to teach young Tommy yet.  You real fortunate, a colored man with a fine place like this to work and fine equipment you ain’t got to buy.  Now, I ain’t saying you don’t deserve it, but you sure got a bird’s nest on the ground.” He didn’t look like he thought Robert deserved all that luck.

Robert knew where this was going.  He’d endured Mr. Grady’s whining before.  He had work to get to and knew it was best to stay on Mr. Grady’s good side.  “Tell you what, Mr. Grady.  I can be over about six in the morning to break up your garden, but if the boys show up sooner, just send them over for the mule.”

Things had worked out just as Mr. Grady  hoped.  “That’ll sure help me out.  Tommy, fetch that cow and we’ll get out of the way.  These folks has work to do.  My ole lady will have coffee when you git there.  Just tap at the back door and I’ll bring it out.”  He shuffled off with Tommy and the cow a few paces behind.

Charley held his question till they were out of hearing.  “Robert, why are you going to plow his garden?  Didn’t seem like he treated you just right.”

“Charley, it’s best to git along with folks if you can.  I end up plowing his garden ever’ year.  Neither Mr. Grady ner his boys is bad about workin’ and I hate to see his womenfolk do without.   You’ll see when we git there tomorrow.  Let’s git to it, fellers.  We burning daylight!”  Their day had started.

 

Charley’s Tale Part 23

Charles staggered into the kitchen under a mountain of farm goods expecting exclamations of joy. Instead, the normally voluable Cora met him with pursed lips.  Clearly disapproving, She announced.  “The Reverend Mason is waiting for you in the parlor.  He says he’s here on business that can’t wait. I’ll bring in coffee and coconut cake in a minute.”  Cora had never made a secret of her feelings about Dr. Mason since he’d dodged her congregation’s request to purchase the old Presbyterian sanctuary when the Presbyterians built a new new one, especially after it stood empty for three years till being turned into apartments and a thrift store.

Though Charles still golfed and served on the school board with Reverend Mason, though he’d not invited him into his home since the pastor refused to sell to Cora’s congregation, responding.  “I don”t think the neighbors are ready for a black congregation.”  Charles didn’t want Cora to have to serve a man with his prejudice.

“This is a surprise, Joe.  Have a seat.  The coffee should be ready in a minute.  Cora put it on before she left.   I’ll just duck out to the kitchen and get it.” Charles greeted him, knowing Cora would be listening at the kitchen door, anxious to learn the pastor’s business.

” I can’t stay, Charles.  I just came by to to let you know about the schoolboard’s decision.” Reverend Mason replied, avoiding Charles’s eye.

”What decision?  The schoolboard’s meeting is not until next week, is it?” Charles said.  Something wasn’t right.

”A special meeting was called.” Reverend Mason replied.

”A special meeting and I wasn’t notified.”  Charles spoke flatly.  “What’s your business?”

Dr Mason answered miserably.  “You know that last year the board voted extend from eleven to twelve years for graduation starting next fall.   Since Charlotte only lacks two credits to graduate, the board voted to award her diploma now, instead of making her attend another year.  I have her diploma with me, all signed by the board.  Would you like me to present it to her?”

Charles was stunned but fortunately, not speechless.  “I would NOT!  So you don’t want Charley in your school!  Charley is the same person,now, he was a few weeks ago.  He has never caused any problems and suddenly the board thinks he is unfit to attend!  How can they justify this?”o

”This is miserable for us all, Charles, but we have to consider what’s best for everyone.  Many parents have expressed their concerns over sports teams use of locker rooms.  Students do not feel comfortable with Charley as things are.  Charley might not be comfortable either.  We have to think of what’s best for ALL students, Charley included.”  Dr. Mason felt righteous in his thinking.

”You pompous, Jackass!  Did it not occur to you that we are well-aware of the problem?  We live close enough to school that Charley could have come home when necessary.    Please tell the school board they won’t be bothered by me or Charley in the future.  You and your board must feel you have a divine guarantee of a perfect life to come to me with this.  Please show yourself out!”

”

Charley’s Tale Part 22

Robert and Bessie piled Charles’s car high for his trip back to town.  Charles was  the enviable object of a friendly competition between Cora and Bessie, so lots of eggs, milk, cream and butter filled an ice chest.  Two gallons of dewberries, turnip greens, squash and green tomatoes, and a dozen jars of Bessie’s bread and butter pickles were safely tucked in the trunk.  Bessie raised the ante by four quarts of pickled eggs, smugly aware Cora didn’t have fresh eggs.  The biggest prize of all, the freshly dressed hen rode in the front seat with Charles.  “I am sure proud of all these farm goods,” Charles told them.  “I’d have been scared to go home without Cora’s hen and dewberries.  Boys, I really appreciate the fish.  I’m hoping Cora will cook’em for my supper.  I do love white perch.”

”You’re sure welcome,” Robert answered.  “They ain’t nothing like good country food.  I’d hate to have to eat from a can like some folks do.  The beans, corn, and tomaters is puttin’ on real good and should be ready in a couple of weeks.  I’ll have ‘em ready for you next time.”

“If you don’t get back when they’re comin’ on, you know I’ll can ‘em up for you.”  Bessie assured him.

” I’ll be back.  I’ll want to see how Charley’s doing.  Charley, make sure you learn all you can from Robert,”  Charles answered.  “But don’t lift anything too heavy.  Go easy on your sore belly!”

”I will. It don’t hurt no more.”  Charley answered.

”You say that now.” Robert laughed.  “You just wait till it’s time to milk at four-thirty in the morning.  That’s gonna hurt.  You ain’t used to gittin’ up that early.”

”Why does milking have to come so early?”  Charley challenged.  “It’s not even light then.”

”Because we got six cows to milk and hogs to slop before breakfast.  Bessie puts biscuits on the table at five-thirty so we can be working by daylight.  We got to hoe them beans before it gits too hot, then work on that section of fence in the afternoon.  It’s gonna be a long day.” Robert answered.

”Charley, you do everything Robert says and learn all you can.  Robert is the best farmer around.  He feeds two houses and puts money in the bank, too.”   Charles told Charley.

“I will, Dad.  I don’t know nothing now, and I aim to be a farmer.”  Charley assured his dad and Robert.

Charles mused as he drove through the country. “Charley is in a good place.  Robert and Bessie have known him since he was born.”  Once again, he wished he’d left well-enough alone and left Charley the way God made him.  His meddling had likely driven his wife crazy and left Charley’s life a mess.”

Charley’s Tale Part 20

The heavy meal in the heat of the day soon had them all nodding. Bessie stacked the dishes and put them in steaming water to soak.  Covering the leftovers with a cotton tablecloth she left them for a cold supper.  No woman heated the house up in the late afternoon by building another fire in the stove. Enough is enough! “You menfolk  can find you a cool spot and catch a little snooze. I’m gonna lay on my bed awhile. Freddy, you got to git Miss Cora’s hen took care of before Dr. Charles is ready to go. I don’t mean for you to keep ‘im waiting.  Be sure you take her a good piece outback of the chicken yard.  I don’t want my layers upset.” Hanging her apron on the icebox door handle, she went to the bedroom just off the kitchen, lowerdnthe shades a bit, and hung her cotton house dress before an open window to air. After dusting herself with scented talcum and folding the quilt back, she slipped under the sheet. A lazy breeze ruffled her dress against the window shade, giving the illusion of cool.  Knowing they couldn’t be seen from the road, Robert and Charles stripped down to their undershirts to take their ease in wooden rocking chairs in the deep shade of the front porch, chatting till first one, then the other nodded off. Bobby went home to rest till they were ready to go back to work.

“Come on Charley. I ain’t layin’ around takin’ no nap with the old folks. I better git that chicken took care of.” Freddy said, leading Charley to a coop In the chickenyard.  Charley had seen chickens “took care of” many times, but still found it macabrely fascinating. The suspicious hen puffed her plumage, pecked Freddy’s hand and threatened him with a scratchy “brock, brock, brock!” Unperturbed by the promised violence, Freddy grabbed her legs and pulled her out to meet her maker.

Ignoring his mother’s instructions to “git her away from the chickenyard before you kill her,” Freddy did the job on the spot, grasping the luckless hen firmly by the neck and giving her body a whirl, snapping her neck, instantly.  When he dropped her, the poor hen’s brain hadn’t gotten the message yet.  She made a few wild circles around the chicken yard in a bizarre dance with death, terrifying the sisterhood.  A necrophiliac rooster jumped her, enticed by her sensual moves.  The squawking hens fled, a couple escaping over the fence, into the trees.  “Mama ain’t gonna be happy about them hens running loose.  I’ll be pluckin’ ‘em out of the trees once the sun goes down.  This ain’t good.”

Eventually, they got back to work on the hen.  Freddy chopped off her head and plunged her in the black washpot full of boiling water.  They plucked her clean before delivering her to Bessie.

”I seen my hens up in them trees.  You kilt that hen right slap-dab in the middle of ‘em, didn’t you?  I bet half of ‘em ain’t gonna lay tomorrow.  If I run short a’eggs, you gonna be the one doin’ without.  I swear, when you git grown, I’m gonna come to your house an’ scare your hens out of layin’.  Just git  on out’a here.  I knows you wantin’ To slip off fishin.”  Bessie grumbled on as the boys grabbed the gear.

 

Charley’s Tale Part 19

It wasn’t long before Robert and Bobby came in to find Bessie, apparently at her leisure, with Charles and Charley getting dinner on the table.  “Bessie, what in the world’s goin’ on?  Why is they cookin’ and you’ a settin?” Robert queried.  “Where’s Freddy?  I see the truck’s back an’ left the door standin’ open.”  Robert wasn’t the type to like seeing his truck door hanging open.

“I got popped with grease frying chicken and Dr. Charles made me set an’ keep a cool rag on it?  It’s some better bit it’s still painin’ me pretty good.”  She answered.  “I thought Freddy went after y’all.”

“No, we ain’t seen him.  Howdy, Dr. Charles.  I sure hate Bessie had to put you fellers to work.  Let me wash up an’ help you finish gittin’ dinner on the table.”  Robert was uncomfortable seeing Dr. Charles doing women’s work.

“No, just sit on down.  Charley can pour the tea while I check Bessie’s arm and then we can eat.”  As he unwrapped the arm, Freddy came up the back steps with an elderly neighbor.  Mr. Roscoe was well-known as a natural healer, frequently called in by neighbors to tend burns, stop bleeding, and cure headaches and snakebites.

“Mama, I fetched Mr. Roscoe.  Remember how he healed my foot when I stepped in them hot ashes?”

Robert and Bessie looked awkwardly between Dr. Charles and Mr. Roscoe, not wanting to offend either.  Seeing the doctor’s open medical bag, the ancient gentleman set them all at their ease.  “Looks like there ain’t no need, now.  I’ll just get on back to my plowing.”

“Oh no.  Don’t leave.  There’s more than one kind of healing.  The Good Lord gave us all different gifts.  It would be a sin not to use them.”  He unwrapped the blistered arm for Mr. Roscoe’s inspection.

Bessie sucked in a quick breath as the warm kitchen air hit it. “Ooh!  It still hurts purty bad.”

Mr. Roscoe gently cupped his wrinkled old hand over the burn and muttered a few words.  When he removed his hand, the redness was gone, though the blister remained.  “Now, you need to be sure to keep that wrapped in a clean cloth till that blister goes down.”

“It don’t hurt no more!  How did you do that?  What did you say?” Bessie asked.

“Just a little prayer.  The healing come from God.  My daddy had the gift, too.”  Mr. Roscoe answered.  “I guess I better git back to my plowing, now that’s done.”

“No, no! You gonna stay for dinner.  We got to eat up this here fried chicken that tried to cook Bessie.”  Robert said.  “Freddy, git him a plate and some ice tea while I git another chair.”

As soon as Robert said grace and were through passing the food around, Dr. Charles turned to Mr. Roscoe.  “I’ve always heard of faith healing, but never seen it.  That burn just faded out and now she has no pain.  How does that work?  Did you feel something or touch it?”

“I don’t know how it works.  I just know it does.  I don’t touch it.  I just pray over it and see it gittin’ better in my mind.  God worked through my daddy, too.  I got four brothers and two sisters and ain’t none of them been blessed with the gift.  Daddy got it from his grandma.  She got it from her mama.  There ain’t no way to tell how it goes down.  My mama had a headache one day when I was about thirteen.  Daddy had tried but couldn’t help her, so he told me to try.  Her headache was gone in a minute and never came back, though she’d suffered for years.” Mr. Roscoe explained.  “Sometimes the healing don’t happen.  It ain’t enough to just want to help.  I’ve learned not to try to heal ever’thing I am asked to.  If I don’t feel “the nudge,” it ain’t gonna do no good.  A few times I have felt “the nudge” and gone when I wasn’t asked. The first time, I woke up about four-thirty one morning and felt pushed to go to Homer Smith’s.  He’d just settled in with his family.  I hadn’t met him but once after a camp meeting.  I felt like a pure fool and didn’t want to go bustin’ in on nobody that time of morning, but I just couldn’t get no peace till I got up and headed over.  I figured I could just wait around outside a little bit an’ maybe tell if they was a problem.  Sure enough, when I got close, ever’ light was on.  I went up to speak to Homer when he come out to smoke just as Miz Presser, the midwife come out.  I heared her telling him his Janie was bleeding real bad after the baby an’ they was nothin’ she could do.  She said Pore Janie wasn’t gonna last long and that puny little baby probably ain’t gonna make it without no mama to nurse it.  They was gonna need the preacher fast.  Homer was crying like a baby, hisself.  He went back to Janie and I asked Miz Presser if it would be alright to see if I could stop Janie’s bleeding.  She asked Homer and he agreed, since they was nothin’ to lose.  I prayed over her an’ the bleedin’ stopped right off.  That boy is grown now with big ol’ young’uns of his own now.  I learned then don’t never say no to “the nudge.”

He paused before going on with his story.  “The hard thing is, I cain’t always help folks when things is bad.  I always go pray for ‘em, but sometimes I know to just pray for peace and relief of pain.  It sure is hard knowing ever’body cain’t be healed.  Folks can be awful hurt over that.”

“I feel that, too, Mr. Roscoe.  It sure hurts knowing you can’t do anything for a person’s body.  All that’s left is to hope you’ve been some comfort to them and the family.

 

Charley’s Tale Part 18

Drowsing as Bessie fried chicken and caught Dr. Charles up on farm news, Charley was jarred from sleep as Freddy stumbled up the back steps with a heavily-laden cardboard box in bringing supplies. Though he danced nimbly trying to regain his balance, he lost control.   As it banged to the kitchen floor, the ominous sound of breaking glass competed with the clattering of the screen door.  Bessie jumped and dropped a piece of chicken into the sizzling skillet, the back-splash raising a blister on her arm.

“Lord have mercy, Boy!  Now, you done made me burn myself with this hot grease!  Lawdy! Lawdy!  Sometimes I b’lieve the Devil owed me a debt and paid me off in wild boys!”  She turned to Freddy furiously, holding a towel to her burned arm.  Ain’t I done told about banging that confounded door?”

“Aw, Mama!  I am so sorry!  You know I didn’t go to.  I just lost my step and was tryin’ to save your jars.  Lemme git you some butter for that burn and I’ll clean them jars up!”  He was stricken as only a boy who’s hurt his mother could be.  “You know I wouldn’a never done that a’purpose.”  He was near to wailing as he dug in the icebox for the butter.”

“Here, let me help.  Charley, can you watch the chicken while I take care of Bessie?  Freddy, can you see to the groceries?”  Freddy was long gone when he looked around.  “Sit down here at the table, Bessie, while I get some ice water.  You don’t want to use butter on that burn.  That holds in the heat and makes it burn worse.”  Charles immersed a clean dish towel in ice water and wrapped it loosely around the burned arm.  “Doesn’t that feel better?  Let’s cool it a little, then see how bad it is.”  He carefully unwrapped the arm, revealing a reddened area with a quarter-sized water-filled blister.  “Well, that’s going to hurt some, but it sure could have been worse.  Let’s just keep it clean and cool till you’re ready to go to bed.  We’ll wrap it up then and you can keep it up on a pillow.  I’ll give you something to help with the pain so you can sleep.”

“I sure dread for you to open that blister.  I know it’s gonna hurt.”  Bessie moaned.

“I’m not gonna open it.  That blister will keep infection out.”  The doctor explained.  By now, things had settled down enough for him to check on Charley and the frying chicken.  “Charley, go ahead and clean those groceries up.”  He was careful not to mention the missing Freddy as he turned the chicken and Charley swept up broken glass.

“It’s not so bad.”  Charley remarked.  “Only two jars broke.  At least nobody got cut.”

“That’s a blessing.”  Charles told them.  “One of the saddest things I ever saw was a little boy that fell running home from his grandma’s with a jar of honey.  The broken jar went straight in his heart and he was dead before I got there.  It just about killed his grandma.”

The sad story reminded Bessie of Freddy falling up her kitchen steps with her box of jars.  “Aw, Lawd have mercy!  Where’s Freddy?  He might’a run off all cut up and be a’layin’ somewhere a’bleedin’ right now.  Lawd have mercy!  Is my pore boy cut up an’ me just a’hollerin’ at him?”

“No, Bessie.  I didn’t see any blood.  He probably just ran off to get Robert.  You just sit here and let me and Charley finish cooking.  Robert and the boys will be here any minute.  Here’s you a glass of tea.  Now, don’t that feel fine, watching somebody else cook?”  Charles asked.

“It shore does, but I don’t reckon I better get used to it.  Nobody but me has cooked in this kitchen since Miss Geneva died.  Bless her heart.”

 

Southern Fried Chicken

Chicken pieces of your choice

1 cup flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder(I use about 1 tsp on each)

oil (canola, corn, peanut vegetable)

Combine all dry ingredients in l gallon zip lock freezer bag.  Add washed and dried chicken and shake.  I usually shake about six or eight pieces at a time.  Drop in hot oil 350 degrees.  (if you have the nerve to try it, drop safety match in hot oil.  will ignite at exactly 350 degrees.  My husband always swears I’m going to burn the house down, but I never have, and he loves my fried chicken.) Fry  6 to 7 minutes on each side till golden brown.  Test with meat thermometer.  Internal temp should be 165-170 degrees.  Drain on rack.