at her oddly and shrugged. “S’pose so, Miss Cleta. Though it seems near everyone’s gone through the same sadness. People all over the place are losin’ kin and whatnot. Can’t see as though I’m much different from the rest.”
“Well, you know God has a plan for things, don’t you? Out of things that seem bad at the time, good things can come.”
“Yes’m. I’ve seen that before.”
Miss Cleta took one long sip of her tea, then a second and then a third. I could tell she was uncomfortable and unhappy though she was talking fine and pleasant, and there was a sudden tightening of my stomach as I watched her face.
“Miss Cleta,” I said hesitantly, “you got some bad news to tell me, I’d like you to come on out and tell me. I ain’t going to feel any better findin’ bad news out from anybody else, and around these parts, I’m gonna hear about it later if I don’t hear about it now.”
She thought for a moment and looked like she was going to speak; then she thought twice and got up to put the teapot back on. But as she went to strike the match for the stove, she stopped and looked at me, and I could see her eyes were starting to wet.
“Miss Cleta?” I murmured nervously.
“Child, little Callie. She ain’t . . .”
I pushed my chair back from the table, starting to feel suffocated. “She ain’t what, Miss Cleta?”
“Honey . . .”
“You’re scarin’ me!”
“You know how bad she was hurt, Jessilyn.”
“But she was doin’ better, I thought.”
“No, honey. She was just the same as ever all along. The only reason she seemed better is because she didn’t seem worse. But now . . .”
“Now what?”
“She’s gone, baby. Jesus took her home late last night.”
I clutched my chair tightly, my thoughts whirling.
Miss Cleta came across the kitchen to console me, but she only laid a hand on my shoulder, making sure to give me room to figure things out on my own.
“Why would God take a little girl?” I asked, angry and sad at once. “She’s just a little girl!”
“Honey, it’s as I said before. God’s got His plans, and we ain’t the wiser to them. We can’t understand His ways.”
“Ain’t no doubt we can’t. ’Cause ain’t none of it makes any sense.” I got up and paced the room, feeling like nothing was right or familiar. I suddenly felt out of place. “Mr. Poe,” I remembered suddenly. “What’ll they do to Mr. Poe? They’ll string him up for sure.”
Miss Cleta said nothing, and I could tell by her silence that she felt the same as I did.
We stood there across from each other in Miss Cleta’s kitchen, faced off over the seeming unfairness of life. I crossed my arms defiantly and shook my head.
“Honey,” Miss Cleta said, “you got to believe God’s got His reasons, and His reasons are always right.”
“It ain’t right! No’m, it ain’t right!”
Miss Cleta tried to console me, but I backed away. “I’ve got to go,” I mumbled.
“Where you goin’, honey? You want Joe to give you a ride home?”
“No, ma’am. I just got to go somewhere . . . somewhere else.”
Miss Cleta followed me to the door. She let me go without another word, but when I turned down the road away from my house, I heard her say, “Joe, you get on over to the Lassiters’ and tell them where Jessilyn’s headin’.”
But I didn’t want anyone to find me. I just wanted to be alone. I hurried along the road until I was out of sight and then slipped off into the woods.
I stumbled mindlessly over stumps and fallen tree branches until I reached Squalers Pond. I dropped to the ground and stared into the water, watching the reflection of the clouds, without any thought toward time. It didn’t matter to me that Momma and Daddy might worry or that I’d be bitten to pieces by mosquitoes. All I knew was I was mourning the loss of life as it had been as much as I was mourning the loss of Callie.
I’d spent many moments by this pond with her, watching
“Well, you know God has a plan for things, don’t you? Out of things that seem bad at the time, good things can come.”
“Yes’m. I’ve seen that before.”
Miss Cleta took one long sip of her tea, then a second and then a third. I could tell she was uncomfortable and unhappy though she was talking fine and pleasant, and there was a sudden tightening of my stomach as I watched her face.
“Miss Cleta,” I said hesitantly, “you got some bad news to tell me, I’d like you to come on out and tell me. I ain’t going to feel any better findin’ bad news out from anybody else, and around these parts, I’m gonna hear about it later if I don’t hear about it now.”
She thought for a moment and looked like she was going to speak; then she thought twice and got up to put the teapot back on. But as she went to strike the match for the stove, she stopped and looked at me, and I could see her eyes were starting to wet.
“Miss Cleta?” I murmured nervously.
“Child, little Callie. She ain’t . . .”
I pushed my chair back from the table, starting to feel suffocated. “She ain’t what, Miss Cleta?”
“Honey . . .”
“You’re scarin’ me!”
“You know how bad she was hurt, Jessilyn.”
“But she was doin’ better, I thought.”
“No, honey. She was just the same as ever all along. The only reason she seemed better is because she didn’t seem worse. But now . . .”
“Now what?”
“She’s gone, baby. Jesus took her home late last night.”
I clutched my chair tightly, my thoughts whirling.
Miss Cleta came across the kitchen to console me, but she only laid a hand on my shoulder, making sure to give me room to figure things out on my own.
“Why would God take a little girl?” I asked, angry and sad at once. “She’s just a little girl!”
“Honey, it’s as I said before. God’s got His plans, and we ain’t the wiser to them. We can’t understand His ways.”
“Ain’t no doubt we can’t. ’Cause ain’t none of it makes any sense.” I got up and paced the room, feeling like nothing was right or familiar. I suddenly felt out of place. “Mr. Poe,” I remembered suddenly. “What’ll they do to Mr. Poe? They’ll string him up for sure.”
Miss Cleta said nothing, and I could tell by her silence that she felt the same as I did.
We stood there across from each other in Miss Cleta’s kitchen, faced off over the seeming unfairness of life. I crossed my arms defiantly and shook my head.
“Honey,” Miss Cleta said, “you got to believe God’s got His reasons, and His reasons are always right.”
“It ain’t right! No’m, it ain’t right!”
Miss Cleta tried to console me, but I backed away. “I’ve got to go,” I mumbled.
“Where you goin’, honey? You want Joe to give you a ride home?”
“No, ma’am. I just got to go somewhere . . . somewhere else.”
Miss Cleta followed me to the door. She let me go without another word, but when I turned down the road away from my house, I heard her say, “Joe, you get on over to the Lassiters’ and tell them where Jessilyn’s headin’.”
But I didn’t want anyone to find me. I just wanted to be alone. I hurried along the road until I was out of sight and then slipped off into the woods.
I stumbled mindlessly over stumps and fallen tree branches until I reached Squalers Pond. I dropped to the ground and stared into the water, watching the reflection of the clouds, without any thought toward time. It didn’t matter to me that Momma and Daddy might worry or that I’d be bitten to pieces by mosquitoes. All I knew was I was mourning the loss of life as it had been as much as I was mourning the loss of Callie.
I’d spent many moments by this pond with her, watching
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