Detour, Chapter 5
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters or places.
Bosco looked down at the overalls he was wearing that must have been at least two sizes too large. He had already rolled the cuffs up twice and taken the shoulder straps up a good two inches. Still, they were much better than the cotton nightgown he had realized he was wearing when he finally got out of bed. He felt like he was trapped in an episode of the Waltons.
Making sure that his t-shirt was tucked in, he sat down on the edge of the bed pulling on his socks and tennis shoes. Rising, he turned toward the door, but turned back when he remembered the knitting needle. Tucking it away safely in the back pocket of the overalls, he headed out to meet the Clemms.
"Well, it's about time you decided to join us. My bickets was gettin cold." Grandma Clemm half-shouted when she saw Bosco. "Well, have a seat, boy. I ain't gettin no younger."
Bosco just nodded at the old lady who looked to be in her eighties. "Sorry" he mumbled as he sat in a chair between the little sandy haired boy and Pa Clemm.
"Well, Maurice, I guess it's time you should meet the family. This here's my wife, Myrtle." He said pointing.
"Pleased to know you, Maurice." Myrtle replied.
"And this here's Wanda Sue." He pointed to the shapely brunette sitting beside Myrtle. The girl just grinned at Bosco.
"And Grandma's made herself known." He gestured to his mother, who gave him a scowl in return.
"And that there's Junior." He pointed to the little sandy haired boy who eyed Bosco suspiciously.
"And now that we're acquainted, bless the food, Ezra." Grandma ordered.
"Yes'um" Ezra replied, bowing his head slightly. Reaching out, he took Myrtle's hand in his left and offered his right hand to Bosco.
Bosco, baffled by the gesture, glanced around to see the others taking each other's hands to form a circle. Feeling a small hand touch his own, he looked down to see Junior looking up at him, his eyes wide. Trying to force a smile, Bosco took Junior's hand in his right and clasped hands with Pa Clemm to his left.
"Heavenly Father, we ask Thee to bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and Thy Word to the nourishment of our souls. In Thy Son's name. Amen."
"Amen" Bosco mumbled and crossed himself, earning a second look from Ma Clemm.
"Pass the buttermilk, Ezra." Grandma Clemm demanded.
Breakfast was a lively event with all the requests for food to be passed and the subtle and sometimes not so subtle attempts by the Clemm's to find out more about their guest.
"So…um…Maurice, where were you headed b'fore ya …um…b'fore ya…ended up here?" Wanda Sue questioned.
"Florida." Bosco replied quietly.
"What fer?" Junior asked.
"Cat fur to make kitten britches." Grandma Clemm quipped. "Landsakes child, you ask too many questions. All of ya do. Leave the poor boy be and let him finish his vittles."
Although he didn't have much of an appetite, Bosco was grateful that the interrogation ended.
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When breakfast was finished, Bosco, Wanda Sue, and Junior headed out to care for the animals, while Grandma and Myrtle cleaned up the dishes. And Pa Clemm headed out to the garden.
Bosco was looking out at the woods where the plane had crashed, while Wanda Sue rambled on about the intricacies of tending chickens.
"Maurice? Maurice!" Wanda Sue called, finally getting Bosco's attention.
"Sorry. What?" Bosco mumbled.
"I said, ya may want to watch where ya walk. They's uh….they's chicken poop scattered about." She said pointing down to the ground. "The chickens ain't real particular about where they go, seein as they're loose in the yard. And Grandma Clemm don't take kindly to folks trackin it in her house."
Bosco looked down at his feet and saw that his tennis shoe was indeed in the edge of a small pile of the disgusting substance. Looking back up, he saw Junior come running by in his bare feet with a cat like agility, never coming near any of the "poop" although he never actually looked at the ground.
As they neared the henhouse, the rooster ruffled his feathers and took a few steps towards Bosco.
"You stop that Ben!" Wanda Sue snapped, waving her arms at the animal. "Get on now. It's ok, Maurice. He just likes to make a scene."
The rooster ruffled his feathers once more, but was distracted by Junior calling out and spreading corn across the ground. "Chick chick chick chickeee. Here chick chick chick."
Entering the now empty henhouse, Wanda Sue pointed to the long row of nests and the scattered eggs in them. "Ma and Grandma are gonna need 'um for bakin tonight." She started gathering while Bosco just stood there holding the little metal bucket Ma Clemm had given him. "It'd go a bit faster if ya helped, Maurice." Wanda pointed out.
Bosco reached hesitantly into one of the nests grasping an egg daintily between the tips of two fingers and placing it in his bucket.
Wanda Sue let out a small chuckle at the disgusted expression on his face.
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"Souieeee" Wanda Sue called out. Pointing to a feed trough, she motioned for Bosco to pour the contents of his bucket into the trough. He gagged as he did so.
"You ain't never slopped no pigs b'fore I guess?" Wanda Sue questioned.
"Um….no." Bosco replied. He didn't know how any creature could eat this …mess. He watched as a group of pigs came out from the edge of the woods.
Wanda Sue looked around quickly as she heard a piglet squeal. "JUNIOR CLEMM! You stay away from them babies, ya hear! Pa's gonna skin your hide!" Wanda Sue headed over to where the boy was reaching through a wood and wire fence trying to play with one of the baby pigs.
Grabbing Junior by the arm, she pulled him to his feet. "Junior! What did we tell ya about them babies? Louise is gonna eat you up if ya keep that up!"
Junior pulled away from Wanda Sue and sulked off as Bosco approached.
"We done told 'im to leave them babies alone. Louise don't take kindly too ya messin with um. She's already tried to eat Junior up twice. That's why she's locked up separate." Wanda explained to Bosco.
Bosco looked over the fence at the biggest pig he'd ever seen and her six piglets.
"Pour the rest of that feed into her trough and I'll get 'er some corn." Wanda Sue instructed.
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Pa looked up from his hoeing to see Maurice sitting on the edge of the front porch, starring off into the woods. He'd been in that same position for nearly an hour now. Pa sighed, and headed up toward the house. It was around 11:00 AM and it was already extremely hot. He decided that he might as well take a break and take Maurice back into the woods so he could see for himself that there was no plane there. As Pa stepped up onto the porch, he spoke. "Let me tell Ma to hold dinner for us and we'll take us a walk and see what we can find."
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Pa looked at his pocket watch, then back at Maurice. It was almost 2:00 PM. 'Poor boy looks like he might fall over any minute now.' Pa thought. "We best not keep Ma waitin any longer, Maurice."
Bosco turned to look at him, his face a picture of defeat. He knew that Pa Clemm had kept looking for his sake. He swallowed hard trying to control his emotions and finally nodded his head.
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The trip back to the house seemed to take an eternity. By the time they arrived, Bosco was exhausted. Stumbling through the front door, he stopped as Ma Clemm looked up at him.
"I kept out some dinner for ya. It's likely a mite cold by now." She said with a smile.
Bosco glanced back at Pa Clemm who had entered behind him.
"Um…I'm not really hungry." He muttered quietly.
"Why don't ya rest a bit, Maurice? They'll be plenty left when ya wake up." Pa replied.
Bosco was grateful that Pa Clemm seemed to understand his need to be alone. Entering the bedroom he'd slept in the night before, he pulled his shoes off and placed the knitting needle on the night stand before lying down.
As Bosco drifted, the voices returned. Voices….shouting….terrible screams. Pleas for help and cries for mercy.
And then another voice, more comforting. One that he sounded almost familiar.
Maurice. It's ok, Maurice. You're safe.
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Disclaimer #2: I do not own the Waltons.
Footnotes:
The breakfast prayer – courtesy of my Uncle Eddie.
"Cat fur to make kitten britches" courtesy of my Maw Maw.
Dinner in the South is the same as lunch. The evening meal is often called supper.