We heard the sound of a car approaching and slowing down above us.
“Shh,” he said, a finger up to his mouth, motioning with his hand for me to get down.
I crouched on the ground, and Daddy ducked too, shielding Merritt. We heard the sound of a door opening, footsteps, then silence. I inhaled the pungent odor of uprooted plants and freshly turned dirt. I needed to cough and instead swallowed over and over, knowing whoever was trying to see where we’d ended up might hear me. I buried my face in the bend of my arm, disregarding the painful lump to my forehead. I shut my eyes so tight, rainbow colors swirled and shifted against the backs of my eyelids. I strained to hear any noise that would give some idea of what was happening. After a few seconds, there was laughing, and then doors slammed shut. The car engine roared, a distinct sound I’ll never forget. As they left, I lifted my head. My vision adjusted enough to make out the shape of Daddy, and I found he was staring at me. I wondered if he could sense my fury.
Chapter 5
Merritt was in a lot of pain.
He said over and over, “My arm’s hurting something fierce.”
Daddy had gone to check and see if the ones who’d run us off the road had left, and when he came back down the hill, he said, “It ain’t a lot of folks on this stretch, but I know a feller ’bout a mile back or so. Maybe I can get him to give us a ride to where we can get this arm looked at.”
I knelt beside Merritt, my arms crossed tight, shivering in the night air. His face was pale and he turned his head one way, then the other, clearly in a bad way. Daddy ought to do something, and quick, quit standing around jawing about this and that.
Merritt spoke through gritted teeth and said what I was thinking. “Just hurry. I can’t hardly stand this.”
Daddy said, “Y’all gonna be all right here till I get back?”
I said, “We ain’t got no choice, do we?”
“Jessie.”
I wasn’t being helpful, but I didn’t care. I was still trying to recover from the fright over the wreck, staggered by Merritt’s situation.
Daddy motioned at the creaking upside-down car. “Listen to me. If it catches, you got to help him get out of the way. Fire tends to burn uphill faster, so go left or right, not uphill.”
I pictured Mama running, burning, collapsing. I said nothing. Kept my expression free of the crazy shit going on in my head. I averted my face, his conciliatory cautioning as worthless as the liquor he made. After he left, the woods held a gloomy look, the trees like huge stiff-legged giants. I sat close to Merritt and began to hum a tuneless song while glancing now and again at Sally Sue or looking up at the half-moon rising through the tree branches.
After a while Merritt said, “Geez, quit that racket.”
My offbeat humming fizzled into silence.
He lifted his head and tried to look up the hill and said, “I hope it ain’t gonna take long.” He leaned on his good elbow with some effort, and grimaced at his mangled arm, hand facing the wrong direction.
He said, “I can’t bear to look at it.”
“You probably shouldn’t.”
He collapsed back onto the ground.
“It ain’t fitting,” I said.
“What?”
“This. We could’ve died. It ain’t fitting, and it ain’t right, what he has us do.”
Merritt said, “Will you quit? I don’t want to hear your same old crap.”
We waited on the ruined hillside, the silence between us thick as greenbrier. I tried to block his misery out. He sounded the way a wounded animal might. My stomach rolled as he suffered, and I kept wishing he’d pass out again while my outrage grew at our predicament. His hurting was about to make me start talking again, start reasoning my position despite him telling me to be quiet.
He broke the silence first. “Can’t you look see if there’s a jar ain’t busted? I got to have me something for this pain.”
“Hell no. You ain’t supposed to be drinking that mess.”
“Come on, Jessie. It’s hurting bad, worse by the minute. Daddy gives it to old man Thompson and his wife for the arthritis. And Mrs. McAllister, she drinks some of it every morning, for her constitution he said.”
I ignored him and looked toward Sally Sue. “Easton said it might could catch fire.”
He flopped onto his back again, and made a whistling sound as he fought the pain.
I couldn’t bring myself to study on his arm too long, and after a minute of listening to him gasping, I gave in, and said, “All right.”
Soon as I stood, I had to drop back down. A vehicle approached and I rolled over onto my belly, peering through the flattened underbrush. I grabbed a hold of Merritt’s good arm. He didn’t pull away.
He whispered, “Shit. Hope it ain’t them damn Murrys.”
He stopped panting in an effort to not make any noise. The trees and surrounding brush were lit up from the headlights off to our right. I hoped it was Daddy and whoever he’d gone to get. The vehicle stopped and I went stiff with fear. Doors opened and closed, and then came the scrape of footsteps on asphalt. A soft beam from a flashlight swept back and forth, then landed near to where we hid in the scrub. I didn’t move, paralyzed, uncertain who was above us.
Above us, came Daddy’s voice, “Jessie, it’s me.”
I pushed up onto my knees, then my feet. The shape of another man was behind him, his silvery hair catching the light of the moon. Daddy hurried down the hill, and the older man followed with a flashlight held high so they could see.
When they got beside us, Daddy said, “This here’s Marty Naylor, customer of mine.”
Mr. Naylor spoke around the chaw in his cheek.
His “how do” was soft.
I lifted my hand and let it drop, a halfhearted greeting at best.
Daddy knelt beside Merritt. “You doing all right?”
Merritt only grunted, his face chalky white.
Daddy said, “We got to get you back up this hill. Probably going to hurt.”
Merritt said, “Can’t get no worse if’n you ask me.”
Mr. Naylor said, “We got something in the car for it; you just hang on.”
Daddy helped Merritt stand and had him put his good arm around his neck. Merritt closed his eyes for a brief moment and they started up the hill. Merritt cried out only once when they stumbled, his voice hoarse with pain, the bad arm flopping like it belonged on a puppet. Daddy traversed the incline, trying to make it a bit easier. Mr. Naylor trailed him, and appeared to handle the steep slant better than me despite his age. On unsteady legs, I followed them, and before too long, we were at the top. I gasped and tried to recover while Daddy guided Merritt into the back seat. Mr. Naylor was kind enough to have brought a blanket and a pillow. After Merritt was situated, Daddy brought out a jar from under the front seat.
He handed it to Merritt and said, “Here, it’ll take the edge off.”
Merritt looked directly at me as he tipped the jar. He took a big swallow, and gave the jar back to Daddy. To my surprise, Daddy took a swig too, then held it out to me, but I crossed my arms, and scowled.
Daddy handed it back to Merritt and said, “Take some more.”
Merritt readily obliged, and then Daddy held his hand out for the jar. He motioned for me to get in the front between him and Mr. Naylor.