Chapter 13 : Paige and Sam-The Familiar and The New

Now that it was bathed in sunlight, the paint-peeling, wooden floor-creaking living room looked much more appealing to the pair of little eyes that belonged to the smallest Guthrie. Poppa didn't wake up early enough to shower and his sweaty odor came on strong. Paige didn't care. Paige loved him and she hugged her daddy before he left for work. The farm wasn't ready to bring forth the harvest, so her daddy had to take a morning job at the feed store until 1PM and then work in the hardware store from 3 to 7PM.

"Holly wan's a hug, doo" Paige said as she extended her dolly up to Poppa's smile.

"Well, a hugs wha' she gonna get." The man replied.

Her daddy then kissed her momma on the cheek as she handed him lunch in a brown paper bag. Poppa then headed to the front porch. Funny, even with the receding bump on his head, he nor momma had shown the slightest hint that they remembered yesterday. If a short memory concerning offenses is a part of adulthood, Paige thought, Okay. Id waz no diffe'end dan bein' tee yea old.

When she and her friend, Frannie Billings, quarreled in the morning, they'd walk off in different directions madder than the ninth puppy born to a momma dog whose under-side could feed only eight at a time. But by noon they were playing like gal pals again.

Paige walked with her daddy as she held his hand. He opened the truck door and froze. The curly-haired, redheaded cutie followed his line of vision to her brother Sam. He was leaning against the shed some yards yonder. The morning sun caused him to squint his eyes, but there was no outdoors reason for his sour expression. He reminded Paige of that old saying, A fox who done found out he actually ran off with a road show's rubber chicken.

Sam and his father eyed each other for a few seconds. Sam then turned and walked away. Periodically, he'd picked up pebbles that were in front of him and threw them half-heartedly a head of him.

Now, Paige guessed at what was her brother's problem. Sam wasn't little, nor was he an adult. He was in that in-between age where his memory was too good. She desperately wished that he'd get older in the next few minutes. Paige didn't like seeing her big brother this way. Besides, the family setting was peaceful now and she knew Sam. He had a hard time holding the lid down on his basket of rattle snakes. He could easily stir up already forgotten problems.

Poppa yelled his good-bye, but Sam continued walking away as if he hadn't heard Poppa. According to Paige's reckoning, Poppa had a mighty pair of lungs. So maybe the small pebbles were a worthier focus of Sam's attention.

Poppa's pickup roared away. At that sound, Sam stopped and gave a side-ways look at the vehicle that kicked up dirt behind it.

When Paige was sure that Poppa couldn't see her waving anymore, she skipped towards her brother. Sam saw her from the corner of his eyes and walked away.

Wha' a sd'ange behay-va, Paige thought. He had never avoided her before. Did he not see her coming over? She ran and caught up to him.

"Wassa-madda?" Paige Ann asked.

"Nut'in," Sam Jonas replied angrily. Then he picked up his walking pace.

"Why ya'll wunnin' away f'om me?"

He stopped and with a frown he turned to her. "Ya know why. Y' promised neva ta mention dat thing wid da soda. Den ya'll go an' threaten ta tell if ah don't do wha' ya say. Dat ain't right, Paige."

"But ya'll didn' pee." She countered in seeking vindication.

"If Ah did or not, a promise-sa- promise. Now go 'way an' break yer promises wid everyone else. You an' me, we ain't ever talkin' or walkin' tagether a-gin."

Sam ran as fast as he could away from his sister. It didn't matter where. Sam meant everything he said about not being with Paige ever again until they both died.

When he thought that he had put enough distance between him and Paige, so that her little feet couldn't catch up, Sam returned to his walking pace.

The boy's mind became captured by a duo wave of thoughts. In truth, it was theses second and third ponderings, combined with Paige's broken promise that tossed Sam into a pit of confusion, shock and a seething— but silent— anger.

Firstly, who was the Man of the house? It couldn't have been Poppa. The Man of the House protects his family with everything that's in him. Nothing in him wants to smack his wife and kids. … Being the only male folk in this particular Guthrie household and seeing as he was the protector, Sam decided that HE was the real Man of the House. Yet, without experience, the responsibility scared him. Was he good enough to be the Man? He sure would like to have another man's ear and ask him what to expect and how to act. Like maybe, does the Man of the House tell his sister that he'd have nothing to do with her, ever— even if she deserved it?

Not to excuse an oath-taker gone traitorous, but how could she really understand what a promise meant? Paige was so little. She couldn't even pronounce some words correctly. Well, sometimes Sam forgot his "t"s, but he was old enough to know he missed them.

Then what should he do in the future? He and Poppa would eventually have to face-off when protecting the family against the violent drunk. Sam couldn't stomach the sight of the man, so he'd have no problem hitting him hard and often so as to leave him a bloody mess.

Was that right? Despite Momma's pleading, Sam hated him. But the man, skunked and brutal as he could get, was still family. Sam would have to measure his actions against him.

But then could Sam control his anger after he threw the first punch? He knew Poppa would be swinging back. It would be a terrible sight for Paige and Momma to see. Aww, hog slop— he didn't want to think about any of that right now.

But as he pushed these questions aside, something else was waiting near-by to take their place.

The boy's third confliction began to take a life of its own over the past three days. For weeks Sam had sneaked peaks at letters that Uncle Tom had wrote to Momma. Uncle Tom had moved to Kentucky back when Momma was caring Sam in her belly. He got a good job—coal mining.

Samuel Jonas always harbored an inner sometimes-good-sometimes-weird feeling that he got about the letters, but the letters appeared particularly disturbing since Saturday. Maybe that reaction came because his curiosity led him to actually read them, instead of skimming through the pages.

Sam had to fill in some of the holes with his imagination, and what he sewed together was this: Momma and Uncle Tom were sweet on each other at one time. They had a bad argument and Momma turned to Poppa. It must have been a bigger-than-big squabble because they never got back together and she married Poppa instead of Uncle Tom.

Anyway, his Uncle wrote her saying that she needed to leave her husband, as he had frequently used her as a handball. The description was apt and the truth behind it made the hair on the back of Sam's head stand up bristly. For the life of him, Sam didn't know why Momma hadn't left. Nor did he know why Momma didn't take up her brother-in-law's offer to move up to Kentucky, where Uncle Tom promised to take care of all three of them.

But that's where the extra-weird feelings came in. Did Momma ever write his Uncle back? Did she ever explain why she kept herself and her children put? That drunk's fists were hard and painful, you know.

If she had gotten over Uncle Tom, why did she keep his letters in a drawer under her unmentionables? Sam thought that was a place where no one but Momma would dare look, so it all had to be a secret. It most assuredly had to be a secret from Poppa, if it was a secret to Paige and Sam. Why? Does Momma experience the same bad feelings that led Sam to do that stupid thing with the soda can?

In Sam's case, the boy was hurt, angry, in love, and some-kind-of-powerfully confused about Mary Ann and her attitude when he tried to kiss her. Now if Momma felt the same way towards his Uncle and she was a right Church-going woman…

Then again, was Momma all that good a Church-goer? Why was she keeping those letters? Did she want to… NO! NO! Momma was a good woman— she was pure and faithful to a bad husband. Sam reprimanded himself for having even the slightest doubt about her integrity.

Though Sam had to figure out the answer to those nagging questions, horrible conclusions shouldn't be assumed. Just take a look at the few times that Uncle Tom came around. Now, Sam knew when other people visit relatives, they slept over at the house. Momma was always relieved when he stayed at a hotel.

With all the commotion going on in his head, Sam failed to notice that he made his way to the area's favorite river. He and his pals would come here after school and take a refreshing swim after being inside of a hot class room for hours. They would also participated in games such as finding out who could stay underwater the longest.

The boys had also nurtured their devilish sides. There was a group of old white women who came to the river where it took a more-than casual bend to the right. They would sit on rocks that the water bounced off of before continuing its path. These old women put their legs into the water no deeper than mid-calves. They would gossip about the dumbest things, but the boys knew how to stop that. Up stream, Sam and his pals would catch harmless snakes and toads and place them on whatever could float. At a distance, they'd angle their "Navy" so that the currents would bring the critters towards land at the same exact place where the clucking old hens sat.

If the women would have held off on their screams, they would have heard a group of boys cheering and laughing at a distance. As an added incentive to behave as demons, the boy with the closest "hit" (thereby causing the loudest commotion) got to pick out an extra morsel from his pals' lunch bags on the following school day.

Even now, in summer, the gang would end up here about the same time— 3:15—to cool off. But this was morning, and Sam was alone. It was just as well.

Sam sat a distance from the river, under a tree's shade to think about Momma and about Uncle Tom's offer.

It was a while, but Sam turned his head towards a sudden whimpering behind him. Paige was standing by another tree… a considerably wider tree. Sam discovered that his bewilderment over Momma had replaced his anger towards his little sister.

Now, Paige still had a linger of baby fat on her arms. He watched as her small, rollie right arm held Holly and her left forearm made a cushion between her little forehead and the tree trunk. Her little eyes were set on her brother, but she didn't come close. Maybe the effort to fight back the tears exhausted her. Or maybe she was too sc—wait a minute! TOO SCARED?! OF SAM?!

Sam muttered, "Scared a me? Wha' in Blue Yonder was wrong with that li'l angel? Oh,… that's right. … My stupid words are wha's wrong."

Sam had learned to read Paige by the grip she had on Holly. It was tight, so Paige's insides must have been matching her face. Paige looked sadder than a hungry baby chic scratching for food on a concrete floor. She moved behind the tree when she saw Sam looking at her, but the whimpers were still heard… and they still daggered Sam's heart.

The boy walked over and around the tree. Paige again moved to the other side to avoid her brother's eyes. Sam walked around again, she moved around again. It didn't take long before they were giggling and forgetting who was chasing who around the thick tree.

Sam stopped and made an about face. He opened his arms to accept the unexpected girl's coming. But what was really unexpected was going to be the strength of her charge. In a second, Paige was going to knock the breath out of him.

Paige screeched in surprise at seeing him. He eyes widened at seeing a stone-faced girl running into him. They hit. He winced like a cargo truck had just struck him. They fell and rolled on the ground. The rolling stopped some yards away from the tree with Paige giggling into his chest and Sam looking into the blue sky wondering how he could have been so stupid as to not check if Paige was still flesh-and-blood before stopping her. Sam stayed still a few moments trying to get some air into his lungs.

Her hair was still "hair". Sam stroked it like Momma always stroked his hair when they had quiet time back when he was a little boy. But the stone girl started to become heavy and he rolled her off of him.

"Paige, get back ta bein' a girl," he said in that strict, but caring way that Momma talked.

On their knees, Sam helped her brush away her cracking façade. Before they finished her arms, the tiny girl worriedly searched her brother's face. Paige asked, "Ya'in hayd me, Sam?"

He looked into her green-gray eyes without a word. Then he said, "Hate ya? Yeah—I hates ya'll like a duck hates water….. Like you hate ice cream."

Paige's face brightened with a wide smile. "Strawberry ice cream?"

Sam playfully tapped his forehead against his sister's forehead. "Like a triple scoop of the bestest, yummiest strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles on the top and sweet little chucks of banana lining the bowl around it.

"Even if I'm angry , Ah'd neva hate my Paige. Ah loves ya'in too much."— Sam pressed his cheek against her cheek. Then the boy abruptly swung his face back from her— " And don't be telling anybody Ah said Ah loves ya'll, hear?"

Actually, that didn't include Momma. She delighted in hearing her children say that to one another. And Sam had sworn her to secrecy concerning those types of things.

Sam turned away so that Paige could lift her dress. She pulled the hem up to her neck and then secured it with a chin-to-chest pressure. She then shook and brushed the pebbles out of her little panties. After she finished, she skipped in front of her brother and hugged him dearly. Sam kissed the top of her head and she nearly took off his front teeth as she pulled quickly away. Paige had a late reply to her brother's last request.

Paige smiled and said, "Ah p'omise nodda dell annnny body. … An' Ah p'omise nodda say anydin' abou' da soda can doo. A p'omise iz-em a p'omise."

Paige ran back to the tree, the place of impact, and she retrieved Holly. She extended her doll towards him. Sam was wary about touching Holly even with no one around. But since he was the "doctor" who, a while back, had re-stuffed her with cotton and sewed her up, maybe it was okay to kiss and embrace his patient. What wasn't all that okay was what always came after.

The fleshy Paige dove into him— this time, purposely— and as they tumbled down a grassy hill. Sam's right elbow shot out whenever the tumbling motion caused his weight to come on top of her. The Man of the House always had to shield your sister from being crushed under his own heaviness. They landed on the grass with his sore elbow resting beside him and Paige's little face again on his chest.

She looked up into his eyes and asked, "How come ya'll neva dold me ya'll like me, a fwe… Ah mean…"

"You just keep rememberin' wha' Momma said. Yaw'in no freak and Ah'm not either."

"Dad's nod wha' poppa said."

Sam held back a fiery reaction to that statement. He rolled his sister off of him and they sat up to face each other. He tightened his facial muscles to hide his "disgust-look " for the man who was never the protector. Momma said that it was a sin to hate his father. It upset the Lord a mighty -fill. Besides like Momma said, Paige didn't have to know how he felt.

"An' yaw'in promised Momma neva ta call ya'llself dat… "—he corrected himself— "eh, that.

"Momma told us Poppa don't think straight at times. So what are we, Paige?"

"We's child'en wid special gif's f'om da Lo'd Jesus and we's keeps 'em hidden so'd nod do f'ieighden folks who don'd hab ow-a gif's."

Her brother got on his knees and gave her a hug so that his right cheek rested on her head.

"Dat's right , li'l angel," Sam said.

She tilted her head to the side. "Bud sdill, why didn' ya'll dell me?"

The memory of Poppa's hands around Sam's collar exploded in his head. His father brought him close so that man and boy were eye-to-eye. That's when Sam knew how serious the alcohol-stinking, mad man was when he threatened a powerful beat-down if the boy didn't keep his yep shut over his freakiness.

"It was a mistake, Paige. I thought it was some'in' ya'll didn' want ta hear. It might frighten ya'll."….

Sam was sure, right then and there, that the only real mistake he had committed was to listen to that disgusting man. The only real fear that had concerned Sam at the time was the "wuppin'" that the older Guthrie male had promised to administer if a peep came out of Sam's mouth to shame his father. Still, at the time he lifted Sam up by his collar— if the boy's self-protection instincts had kicked in, it would have been costly to the man.

Paige forgot her dolly for a second and cupped her brother's face. She knew that the gesture would bring Sam's mind back from whatever realm his mind had found itself lost.

Sam's eyes lost its faraway look in time to see his sister shake her head from side to side. "Ah'm neve bein' scaid a ya'll."—almost singing, she continued— " Yaw'in mah bwa-da. Yaw'in my Sam Jonas."

She tapped her head against his and released him. Sam smiled with a sense of pride. Even if she never used the term "The Man of the House," the girl knew who her protector was.

"Ah love mah bwa-da," she began singing as she skipped around him. It was part of their Sunday School singing ritual. Sam did his part, reciting how he loved his sister and together they were loved by Jesus. But he then reminded Paige that they couldn't stay away from shade for too long. Mississippi summers weren't at all loving.

They went to the river. Provided that they took off their shoes and socks, it wasn't a fret-fit problem to get all wet. They knew that by lunch time, their clothes would be dry… or maybe just drier. There they laughed and splashed each other a long while. Then they ran towards the trees. The hot weather was not getting the better of the cleaver Guthrie clan.

Brother and sister sat under an oak and their conversation was a pleasant surprise for the boy. Paige was actually taking in what he was saying for more than 15 seconds at a time. Yep, she was growing up.

They talked about the serious-like things—the care and feeding of Holly, for instance. They talked about the forgivable things— one being, the subject of hiding his special powers from his sister. Since "L'od Jesus" was the forgiving type and he wanted all children to act likewise, Paige afforded Sam that gift. … But only after she punched his left arm so hard that the surprised boy's right shoulder went crashing down on the grass. Retaliation never entered the mind of the Man of the House— among other things, he deserved it if he listened to … that man. But darn, if he didn't land on the arm with the bruised elbow. Now both his punch-side triceps and his fall-on elbow were experiencing pain.

Before long, the curly-haired three-year-old revealed that just before going home yesterday, she heard that Martha Ann kicked Sam's rival, Peter Hanson, in the knee and then she reached for the boy's hair.

Not wanting to be prematurely bald before his fifties, Pete ran like a rodent who spotted a cat. At a safe distance, he apologized for whatever he had said to make her madder than someone going to the bathroom and finding out that the toilet roll had no paper.

Sam always knew that she couldn't tolerate the Hanson boy beyond that first ice cream cone. He'd bought it, she'd eaten it. After that, she couldn't be found by ol' freckle-faced Pete. He'll never learn.

After a while their bodies were awakened to the climbing heat. Even the once fresh breeze was feeling warm. The Guthrie siblings decided that it was about time that they splash themselves with water again.

Upon returning to the shade, Paige and Sam heard youthful laughter coming from the other side of the trees—it was where the river curved back around the bend.

It was too early in the day for their pals to come to the river, but it had to them. With great anticipation, sister and brother followed the laughter. A collection of large bushes was located just before that particular part of the riverbank. It was from behind one of those overgrown bushes that the Guthries saw something that brought them to a gasped halt.

Paige got over the sight quicker than Sam, but then again Sam had more years of apprehension drilled into him. The little girl ventured forward from behind the bush before Sam snapped back to the present. The boy ran out and grabbed the top of her shoulders. He pulled her close to his body.

The laughter stopped. Sam and Paige stood in front of the revelers, who also froze in their spots. To the siblings eyes, they might as well have been looking at a still photograph of a collection of Negro children in the water.

"So this is why nobody neva came he-ah before 3 o' clock," Sam unthinkingly blurted out.

"Indeed, young man," a middle aged, heavy set Negro woman said without fear. "But there IS someone he-ah befo' 3 o' clock. Jus' not ya'll kind."

The woman was one of three fat negro women sitting on a large flat rock with her feet in the water. Everything about the scene was so familiar. It was as if Sam was looking at the older white women— but only their picture negatives.

But… the woman speaking… the others… if it wasn't for the obvious, they could pass for the "battleships" that his friends had often torpedoed with critters. This was, in itself, a shock. Paige turned back to her brother with a smile, but Sam was too shaken to ask why she was grinning.

"Does anyone else know?" Sam asked. Everyone knew that the boy's "anyone" meant white folks.

No one spoke as both Negro and White silently studies each other. After what appeared to be an eternity of awkward staring, the darker children came out of the water. They walked away toweling themselves, speaking in low mutterings.

The woman who had responded to Sam had at first appeared to protest. Maybe she wanted to tell the children to stay. But then the woman had second thoughts. She got up and she shook her head angrily at no one. She then looked at Sam and Paige with a face that expressed a bundle of sourness hog-tied with sadness. Then she turned her back to them— that face of disappointment and anger was replaced by a cheery yellow headscarf. The woman joined the others in their departure.

Now, Sam didn't want to spoil their fun. It was just that them being here was wrong. Or was it? He could not nearly come up with a reason, but still … wasn't it? The water was moving continuously, so if white folks were offended by touching the water that the Negros swam in….

Sam was sidetracked from that thought by remembering that the Negro kids laughter sounded like his pals' outburst. They didn't sound like wild animals, as some folks said. They played like his friends— smiled like his friends, also. But them being there was …. wrong… really… sort of… maybe.

Again deep in thought, Sam failed to observe Paige and a dark girl around Paige's age face-to face. They were giggling. The river water on her skin gave her round, happy, dark-mahogany face a glow that competed with her shiny teeth for eye-catching attention.

Paige was telling the little Negro girl how Holly has problems bed wetting. The girl responded that her stuffed bonnet-on-the-head grey kitty, Hermione—or rather "Hay-my-nee"— had the same problem. But as good mothers, it was up to them to wake them up in the middle of the night to pee.

Sam thought it would be best for all if he pulled his sister away. Suddenly, he turned to the sound of splashing. A boy about Sam's age came running across the shallow sides of the river towards them. His red, plaid shirt was tied around where his belly button should have been and it was wet only at the bottom. His bottom half still had his swimming trunks. The faded-red trunks looked like it was a hand-me down, as it appeared bunched up on his left side…. No doubt, the pinned side. Sam could definitely relate to that. Sam's trunks were faded-green, though.

"Come on, Sam, let's get," the Colored boy said, frazzled.

Huh? How did he know Sam? And why did he think that Sam was going with him anywhere?

The dark boy reached for the little girl with the kitty-doll and pulled on her free arm.

"Sam, when Ah call ya'll, ya'll lis-sens."

"Ya'll name is Sam?" Paige squealed with delight.

The chocolate girl stopped and fought against the older boy's pull. She turned and her angry face flashed a smile at Paige.

"Yeah'em. Ah'm Samanda Lucas."

"Shut up, girl" the boy said increasing the strength of his pull. "Dey ain't inta-sted in ow-a names."

"Yes'im we ahh," Paige said in the middle of her own sibling-tugging exercise. "Don' go. We's weady da play house. Wight?"

At that revelation, the two darker children stopped in their tracks— the Negro and white boy's mouth hung open in astonishment. The smiling white girl pulled her brother towards the duo and made an announcement.

"Sam, meet mah Sam. He's mah big bwadda."

Two sets of black-brown eyes shifted to the Caucasian boy's face. Sam didn't know what to do.

Paige quickly grabbed Samantha's hand. The combine strength of the two girls freed the colored three-year-old from her stunned brother's grip. They skipped away laughing and planning their play date away.

"Ah don't think this is gonna go on ta somethin' good," Sam inwardly groaned.