"Double quotes" are spoken words, 'single quotes' are thoughts, but not spoken.

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Detour, Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the original characters or places, but the Clemms are mine.

Making her way quietly through the trees, Wanda Sue glanced through the clearing ahead. She spotted Maurice sitting on the edge of the ravine through which the creek ran. His arms were wrapped around his legs, his head on his knees. She could see his shoulders shaking and as she got closer she heard quiet sobbing.

Sitting down on the plush grass beside Bosco, she remained quiet for a few moments, trying to decide how to approach him. "Maurice" she said quietly, placing a hand on his arm.

Bosco wiped his face on the leg of his overalls, trying to hide his tears. "Leave me alone." He mumbled with a sigh.

Wanda Sue glanced around taking in the view of the creek and the surrounding woods. Then she decided to try again. "Maurice, I brought somethin for ya."

"I said leave me …." Bosco stopped abruptly when he looked up and saw the knitting needle in Wanda Sue's hand. Reaching out, he grabbed it hastily. Then resting his elbows on his knees, he stared at the needle. "He shouldn't have taken it." He said quietly.

"No, he shouldn't of taken it. And Pa is havin a little talk with him right now about that. I'm sure he won't be doin it again." Wanda Sue replied.

Bosco remained silent.

"You can tell me about it." Wanda Sue commented.

"About what?" Bosco half-whispered.

"About the knittin needle….and the plane." Wanda said hesitantly.

"Why? You all think I'm crazy anyway." Bosco replied, looking at Wanda. "Don't you?" He laughed and looked back over the ravine. "How could you not? I'm even beginning to think I've lost my mind."

Wanda Sue was unsure of what to say. 'Yeah, I think you're crazy as a road lizard. How'd you come up with such a cock-a-maimy story?'

She was pretty sure that Maurice wouldn't appreciate that. She cleared her throat. "Umm....Well, I….I'd like to think you're not crazy, Maurice. I mean, not that I want there to be a plane out there, or all those people hurt. But I want to believe ya. I know that you believe it. It's just…well…with Pa not findin no plane and all….I'm not sure what to think." Stopping, she watched for a reaction from Maurice, but didn't get one.

"Ya know, Maurice. Sometimes when things get all confused, we just have to have faith. Even if we don't understand it all, the Good Lord will work it out."

"That sounds pretty simple." Bosco replied. "I wish it were that easy for me."

"It might be simple, but I never said it were easy, Maurice. It ain't easy. But sometimes we just have to hang in there and let the Good Lord work things out in His own time."

Bosco ran his fingers along the knitting needle. "Well, I wish the Good Lord would hurry up."

Wanda Sue chuckled slightly. Maurice didn't strike her as the patient type. "Well, while we're waitin, maybe we should just try to make the best of it. Huh?"

"I guess so." Bosco muttered.

"Good then. Ma Clemm wants some mulberries to make a cobbler. You want to help with the pickin?"

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"Junior Clemm, you be careful up there. If'n ya fall out a that tree, Ma will have both our hides." Wanda Sue yelled, as the little boy rode one of the mulberry limbs shaking the ripened berries off onto the tattered sheets that covered the ground.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Bosco asked, looking curiously at the long cane pole in his hand.

"Just reach up and whack them limbs an the ripe berries will fall right off. Then we can collect em off of the sheet." Wanda replied. "And make sure ya don't whack Junior." She added.

Bosco looked up and smiled deviously at Junior who was now straddling a larger limb and eyeing him suspiciously. Junior stuck his tongue out in return.

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Dinner, or supper, as the Clemms called it was a quiet affair. Junior made sure to sit across the table from Bosco rather than beside him. And Bosco occasionally looked up to see one or more of the group staring at him. Despite the excitement of the afternoon, Ma and Grandma had cooked a feast of deer meat with biscuits and gravy and "mashed taters" as Wanda called them. The deer meat was a first for Bosco, but the mulberry cobbler was undoubtedly the best thing Bosco had tasted in months. He wondered if he could find mulberries in New York.

Afterward, Grandma Clemm sat in her rocking chair reading from the Bible while the others gathered around to listen. Junior fell asleep in Pa Clemm's lap. The scene reminded Bosco of sitting at his own grandmother's knee while she told Bible stories or stories from the old country. He smiled at the memory that he had almost forgotten.

He watched them, thinking that despite the simpleness of their lives and the many aspects of modern society that they seemed to miss out on, they had something special.

"Maurice. Maurice?"

Bosco glanced up quickly at the Ma Clemm, who had a hand on his shoulder. Looking back across the room, he saw that the rocking chair was empty. There was no sign of Pa Clemm or Junior. And Wanda Sue was clearing the table. He must have zoned out on them for a while.

"Why don't ya go to bed, Maurice. Ya look plum tuckered out." Ma Clemm commented.

Bosco nodded his head. "I think I'll do that. Thanks."

Bosco stretched out in the bed and pulled the covers up. He was grateful for the moonlight coming through the window to partially illuminate the room. He was exhausted physically and mentally. And his leg and arm still burned.

Closing his eyes, he heard the occasional clanging of a dish being washed. He also heard the faint sound of singing. He didn't recognize the song, but soon realized that it must be a hymn. It was beautiful, despite the distinct twang of the voice singing it.

"Some-where the sun is shin-ing, Some-where the song-birds dwell; Hush, then, thy sad re-pin-ing, God lives, and all is well."

Oh dear Lord! Oh dear Lord! We're going to die! Help me, Jesus!

"Polly?" Bosco mumbled.

"Some-where, Some-where, Beau-ti-ful Isle of Some-where!"

Maurice. Maurice, baby. It's me. It's ok, baby. I'm right here.

"Ma?"

"Land of the true, where we live a-new, Beau-ti-ful Isle of Some-where!"

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Footnotes:

Mulberries….hmmm… if ya ain't tried em, ya don't know what you're missin.

"Beautiful Isle of Somewhere" written by Jessie B. Pounds with arrangement by J.S. Ferris.

Caution: Riding limbs is not an approved method of picking mulberries, even in Mississippi. Do not try this at home. However, whacking limbs or shaking them with a rope or by hand and collecting the berries on an old sheet works marvelously.