“’Scuse me for not gettin’ up,” Mr. Turner said, “but my legs kinda weak today. I stand up, they might jus’ give way from under me. Sit down, sit down.” He too asked about Mama. “Well, you know we all been prayin’ for her.”
“We know those prayers been heard,” said Stacey.
Mr. Turner nodded knowingly. “The Lord sho is good.” We all agreed. “Well, how’s that boy of mine doin’?”
“Doing just fine last time we saw him,” answered Stacey. “Didn’t see him before we left though, had to leave so sudden.”
Mr. Turner nodded in understanding, then glanced around the room. “Where that Morris?”
“Last I seen of him,” said Levis, “he was out there slopping the hogs.”
“Well, go get him,” ordered Mr. Turner. “Tell him Stacey and them here.”
Levis went to do his father’s bidding while Maynard sat down in a straight-back wooden chair with rawhide covering and began questioning Christopher-John and Man about the war and where they had fought.
“Well, I was all through Europe and even over in North Africa for a while,” said Clayton. “Fought in the 123rd Engineering Platoon. Became a sergeant over there.”
“You name it, I was in it,” contributed Christopher-John.” France, Normandy, the Rhineland.”
“Wonder I didn’t meet up with y’all,” said Maynard. “Saw Little Willie though.”
Christopher-John laughed. “Seems like Little Willie met up with just about everybody over there!”
While Christopher-John, Clayton Chester, and Maynard talked about their days in the war, Stacey and I answered Mr. Turner’s many questions about his eldest son. “I sho do miss that boy,” said Mr. Turner as the screen door opened and Levis came in with Morris behind him. Morris was a tall boy, chocolate in coloring, like Moe, and wiry. He was also outspoken, not at all shy for his thirteen years. “’Ey, Daddy!” he called. “You all right?”
“Same as when you gone out from here,” returned Mr. Turner. His voice sounded harsh, but there was a smile on his face. “Now, you come on over here and say hello to everybody.”
Morris came right over and shook hands with Stacey, Christopher-John, and Man. When he got to me I stood and said, “Boy, you too big to hug now?” Morris laughed. Morris was like a little brother to Stacey, Christopher-John, Man, and me and we treated him as such. As a little boy he was often with Moe and often at our house. He seemed to be as much a part of our family as he was of his own. We often called him Little Brother Morris.
“Not hardly, Cassie,” said Morris, still grinning as he bent and gave me a big hug. He then pulled up a chair, along with Levis, and we all sat talking about Moe, the North, and what it was like for Moe to be there.
After a while, Mr. Turner said, “You know I want this boy Morris to go up north to school, be with Moe.” He looked at Stacey. “Moe tell y’all that?”
“Yes, sir, he did.” Stacey turned to Morris. “What you think about going north?”
Morris shrugged, smiled, and looked over at his father. “Fine with me, long as it’s fine with Daddy.”
“He’ll be going then,” declared Mr. Turner. “Come the end of summer, my youngest and my oldest gonna be up there in Detroit together. That’ll suit me fine.” Mr. Turner then nodded, seemingly happy at the thought.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
On Sunday all of us went to Great Faith Church, where so many people were asking about Mama and praying for her. Mama was a substantial member of the community, always active, and well loved as a teacher. After church all of us, including Big Ma, went to Jackson to visit Mama. Mama was scheduled to come home on Tuesday and the boys planned to leave Wednesday night for Toledo. After working through much of the day on Monday, both Christopher-John and Man washed up and got ready to go over to the McFaddon place. “You wouldn’t by any chance be planning to do some courting while you’re over there?” Papa teased as Christopher-John took the keys to the Mercury. Christopher-John smiled somewhat sheepishly. The McFaddons boasted a family of ten daughters, two of whom, Becka and Rachel, still lived at home. Becka was the older of the two sisters and she and Christopher-John had been seeing each other since before the war. As far as Rachel and Clayton Chester, they were only friends, nothing more. Still, they enjoyed being together and the two sisters and their mother had invited them to supper.
While Christopher-John and Clayton Chester were gone, Papa and Stacey continued chopping logs brought from the forest earlier in the day, stacking the split firewood in huge piles along the pasture fence. At suppertime, Big Ma sent me to fetch them. “Big Ma says she’s about ready to set food on the table,” I said as I came from the back porch and hopped the huge stones set as a walkway to the drive. “So she said finish and wash up.”
“Won’t finish this for a while yet, baby girl,” Papa said. “Want to get as much chopped as I can while I got the help.”
Sweat was beading on Papa’s forehead. He looked worn. “Papa, you work too hard,” I said.
Papa kept on chopping and said in his genial way, “You figure you grown enough to tell me that?”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“Not working any harder than all those years when I worked on the railroad.”
“But that was a long time ago.”
Papa laughed outright. “So, you telling me, your ole papa, he getting too old for this kind of working?”
“Well . . . no, sir . . . but you know what I mean. Stacey, you tell him.”
Stacey looked at me, then stopped chopping and looked at Papa. “You could slow down some, Papa. I’ll chop the wood, and while you and Cassie go into Jackson tomorrow to get Mama, Christopher-John, Man, and I can finish all this up.”
Papa chuckled. “Just how old do you think I am? I know you must think I’m awful old, but I’m not yet fifty.”
“Not saying you old, Papa,” Stacey clarified, “but you could take a break while we’re here.”
“Well, that’s all fine and good for now,” Papa said without missing a swing of his ax, “but what happens come another month or two and we need more firewood? You boys coming all the way from Ohio and chop wood for me?”
Stacey frowned. “Maybe not next month, but we’ll be back in August for revival.”
“And what I’m s’pose to do ’til then?”
Stacey took a moment and thought on that. “Maybe Christopher-John, Man, and I can stay on another couple of days and chop enough wood to last you until we get back.”