To Live Forever: An Afterlife Journey of Meriwether Lewis (9 page)

TWENTY

Main Street. Natchez
, Mississippi. A for
gotten place in 1977. Just what I was hoping for. Dingy and empty, it was occupied by people too worn down by life to notice folks like me.

The few people we passed on the sidewalk stopped and stared at Emmaline, though. Who wouldn’t take note of a child in a t-shirt and Sunday shoes, a baseball cap swallowing her head? I put my arm around her shoulders and scoped the street for any place that might sell what we needed.

In the next block, I pushed through a glass door.

“Gladstone’s Department Store.” Emmaline sounded out the words. “My mother used to buy my dresses at a place like this, Merry.”

“Ssh, Em. Don’t talk about that right now.”

“Can I help you?”

An old man reclined on a glass case and gawked at Emmaline. Fine threads of hair swirled under the edges of Jim’s cap. It was twice the size of her head. “Can I help you, Son?”

Son
. He said it with a knowing emphasis that unnerved me.

When he said it again, I realized he was talking to me.

I opened my mouth. Told him we needed a few things. Some denims with reinforced knees, along with sturdy shoes and socks. A couple of long sleeved shirts. And the last thing on my list. “You got any camping equipment?”

He jerked his thumb. “In back. Know what size the boy needs? Looks like he’s an eight to me.”

“That’s right. An eight.”

While he went to find the clothes, I guided Em toward the camping supplies. “Don’t say anything, and I mean
anything
, to that man, Em. You let me do the talking.”

“But—”

“No buts. You stand right there while I grab what we need.”

She whirled her arms from side to side. “Can we get the purple tent?”

“What?”

“The purple one. Right here.” She picked up a box with the word ‘Barbie’ splattered across the front.

“No, Em. That’s nothing but a toy. Now,
this
is a tent we can use in the woods.” I shouldered a mud brown one that would blend in with the landscape. “Here. You carry these two sleeping bags, and I’ll get the other stuff.”

Her eyes were wide. “This already looks like too much to carry.”

I waved two packs at her, one adult and the other her size. “We can fit everything in these. The tent will strap to the back of mine, and the sleeping bags will go on the bottom. See?”

Matches. A flashlight. A first-aid kit. All went in my bag. When I picked up a cooking ring with a small tank, Emmaline whispered something, panicked.

“What’s that, Em?”

“When we’re in the woods, where will I go to the bathroom?”

Terror etched the edges of her drawn face. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Well, you can go any place you like. At the side of the trail. In a ditch. Behind a tree. Even on a rock. Shouldn’t be too many snakes this time of year.”

She dropped the sleeping bags on the floor and screeched, “Snakes!”

Before she could make any more noise, I shelved my supplies and pulled her to me. Her breath was ragged, and her whole body trembled. I cradled her chin and made her look into my eyes. “Em. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“I don’t like snakes.”

“I don’t like them, either.” I stroked her cheek and waited for her breath to slow. “Look, we’ll be roughing it for the next few days. No way around it. It’s going to be hard. I can’t promise it won’t be tough, that your feet won’t hurt, that you won’t get blisters on your hands or bites on your legs, but it will be an adventure. A new experience. Discovery.”

“And, at the end, we’ll find Daddy.”

I kept my gaze steady and willed myself to believe. “Yes. Remember that. The end always makes the hardship worth it.”

Her voice climbed higher. “But how will we find him? We can’t go up to every house and knock on every door. Maybe he’s not even there anymore.” Her bottom lip trembled. “This whole idea was dumb and stupid. I’m never going to get to Daddy. I can’t believe you ruined his letters, Merry. We will never, ever,
ever
find Daddy now, not before the Judge catches me and takes me away and hurts me and—”

I raised my voice a little to stave off her meltdown. It was all I could think to do. “Em, listen. Do you still have that two dollars I gave you?”

She drew in a breath and took off her cap. Tugged a wadded ball out of her hair. She held it out to me. I ran it through my fingers to straighten it. “Thanks. We’re going to use it to pay for our supplies.”

“But you gave it to me. It’s our pact. You said.” She crossed her arms, and her jawline was like marble.

My eyes lit around the store for an idea, anything to satisfy her. My eureka was a jar of pens, next to a cash register. Still holding her, I walked over and picked one up.

“Here. Take this pen and write a message on that two dollar bill. A note to your daddy. We’ll spend it, and when we get to Nashville, he’ll be waiting for us.”

“Really? Money works that way? Like magic?”

“Yes, Em. I think it could.” I had no idea, but as I watched her relax and accept it, I wanted it to be true.

Emmaline flattened the two dollars on the counter. Gentle-like. She chewed the purple cap and considered the blank surface.

“What should I write?”

Tricky question. I didn’t know the answer. I bit my lip and waited for her to write something on her own.

“Merry, where will we end up in Nashville? When we get there?”

“The end of the Natchez Trace, somewhere close to the river.”

“That won’t fit.” She gnawed on the pen again. “What day will it be?”

I licked a mental finger and threw it up in the air. “Wednesday.”

“You mean next Wednesday?”

I never knew what I meant.

“Yes. Next Wednesday.”

“How will Daddy know that?”

“He’ll know.”

“But how?”

“Some things, you just have to believe. Blind. It’s called faith.”

Emmaline closed her eyes, and her lips moved. A silent prayer, perhaps. When she opened them, she wrote the words
Daddy. End of Trace. Sunset. Wednesday. I love you. Emmaline.
At the end, she drew a little heart and colored it in.

“Perfect, Em. Now, give me that money. I’ll include it when we pay.”

She slid to the floor and picked up the sleeping bags, and I followed her tentative gait to the front of the store. Her posture was regal, and she held her head high. How much had that brave little girl bargained for when she ran? If she knew what lay ahead, she might’ve taken her chances with her mother and Wilkinson. Most lives were packed with disappointment.

Certainly, the end of my life had been.

The clerk held out a serviceable piece of denim with reinforced knees. Emmaline wrinkled her nose and fidgeted with her cap, trying to tuck a few long hairs back under it.

“Do you have corduroy Levi’s? In powder blue?”

The man let the jeans fall to the counter to join our camping pile. His shock of white hair stuck out like he’d been electrocuted, but his smile was patient. He nodded and shuffled to the back wall, tortoise-like. While he scanned shelves in slow motion, I explored the glass case. When I found packs of boys’ under drawers, I reached in and grabbed a couple. “Em, if they have powder blue, that’s what we’ll get. If they don’t, anything will do. We don’t have the luxury of being persnickety.”

She tossed her head like a few women I’d known but didn’t argue. I thumbed through our hill of stuff on the counter: shirts, socks, boys underwear, a backpack and a pair of hiking shoes, plus our camping gear. The pants would do it.

“Pink rubber bands, Merry. You promised.” She threw a sweaty, wrinkled pack on the pile.

“Where did you find those?”

“Next to the door when we first came in.”

The clerk came back with one pair of powder blue corduroys and another the color of dirt. “Only two in the boy’s size, Son. You want ’em?”

“One pair will do. How much for all of it?” I dug around in the front pocket of my jacket for the rest of my money. Emmaline tugged my arm before I found it.

“But Merry. How will Daddy get the money in Nashville if you’re spending it here in Mississippi?”

The old man’s hand froze over the cash register. Milky eyes shifted from her to me over the top of his glasses. “On your way to Nashville? That where you’re from?”

I pulled Em next to me and held her there. Gave him my biggest grin. “Virginia, actually.”

“What are you doing here?”

I shook the wad of money in front of his face. “Got a final tally for how much I owe you?”

That Mississippi man’s spine hunched a little, right in front of me, cowed at the sight of plenty. “Forty-two dollars even.”

I counted out two twenties and threw in Emmaline’s two dollar bill. “Exact change. Em, you grab that sack there, and let’s get going.”

I followed her without looking back. About halfway, the telephone rang, and the old man answered. “Hello? Yes, Thelma. So sorry I missed you earlier. Had my hands full with a couple of customers. A man. About six feet tall. And, a girlie boy…”

I pushed on the glass and took Emmaline’s hand. A bell tinkled as the glass door slid shut. It was the only sign we’d been there.

TWENTY-ONE

I jumped over the potho
les in the road, try
ing to keep up with Merry. The longer we walked, the more my sunburn itched. I ran my fingernails across my arms and cheeks, mostly because it gave me an excuse to stop. We had been walking forever. My back was icky underneath my pack, and my shoulders hurt.

Plus, Merry walked too fast for me. He never wanted to slow down and look at stuff. When I picked a cottony flower by the side of the road, he told me it was a weed. I blew it, and a million tiny parts scattered everywhere. How could something so pretty be a weed? I picked another one and tucked it behind my ear without blowing on it. When I felt it, little white bits stuck to the ends of my fingers.

Anyway.

I was mad at Merry, because he walked right past a yummy-smelling place to eat on the way out of town. Drool rose up on my tongue when I thought about fried chicken and french fries, but when I asked him if we could stop, he just kept going.

Along the road, we passed big brick houses and some with wood on them, all pretty colors in the sunshine. I stuck my hands through a fence and touched soft petals. A rose bush just like Aunt Bertie’s. The yellow flowers felt like her skin after her bath. When I smelled my fingers, it was like she was there.

Merry told me to hurry. I ran to catch up. His feet crunched on rocks next to the road, and I stretched to put my feet where his had been, but it was too hard. His legs were so much longer than mine.

“Wait for me, Merry!”

He kept looking around, like he was expecting something. He hadn’t said a lot since we left the clothes store. When we heard car noises, he pulled me with him into the bushes on the side of the road. Once the car sounds went away, he stepped back onto the road and kept walking.

I couldn’t run very fast in my new shoes. The bottoms were slick, and they didn’t bend at the toes. They were heavier than the mary janes I was used to. My legs were already tired from picking up my feet higher, and I felt a big blister on the back of my heel. But I’d get used to it. The pain was nothing if it meant finding Daddy.

Merry stopped, and I tripped over the last few steps to stand next to him, panting hard.

He kneeled on the dirt, his face close to mine. “We’re over halfway to our camping spot for the night. I know I’m pushing you, Em, but if we’re going to get to Nashville by Wednesday, we’ve got to make time. You’re doing great.”

I wet my lips. “It’s okay for you to hurry, Merry. I’m just a little bit hungry is all.” Better not to mention how tired I was when he was saying nice things. Adults always got mad when kids whined, and I couldn’t understand why, because they whined all the time about money and jobs and other people and stuff.

Merry was different, though. He didn’t complain about anything. Like right then, with his sweaty face and blank eyes, he kept going. His batteries never ran out.

He dropped his pack on the ground and unzipped a pocket. “Well, I have a little surprise for you, Em. Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

A rectangle hit my palms, and when I opened my eyes, I shrieked. “A Snickers bar! Merry, how did you know it was my favorite candy bar ever?” I ripped the cover down one side and bit into the chewy sweetness before it was open all the way.

“I’m sort of partial to them myself. A recent thing.” He pulled out another one, and we munched on them together. A bee circled through the weeds, its wings whirring in the sunlight.

“Merry?”

“Uh-huh?”

“Are you really from Virginia?”

He sat down on top of his pack, and I dropped mine to copy him, light enough to float. Merry licked chocolate off his fingers. “I was born there, yes.”

“What’s it like?”

“I haven’t been back in a long time, but the part I’m from was rolling hills and green.”

Merry’s empty eyes were faraway, unfocused, like he could almost see Virginia. What was it about his eyes? They were funny. Different from mine, but I couldn’t figure out how.

I stared off in the same direction and tried to imagine home again. My bedroom under the eaves. The fountain in Jackson Square. The perfume of Bertie’s rose garden. “I hope I don’t forget New Orleans. It’s the only place I’ve ever been, besides here.”

“Well, I’ve been all over, Em, but I’ve never forgotten home.”

“But how do you remember it?” I closed my eyes and imagined my mother’s house. I tried to see Aunt Bertie’s face, but it was blurry. When I thought about it, everything was out of focus. My eyelids hurt. “I’m afraid I’m already forgetting, Merry. It’s scary to not have a home anymore.”

He scooted closer to me and put his strong arm around my shoulders. “You have a home. With your Daddy. You just can’t picture it yet. And, when you can, it will dim New Orleans for you. It won’t make it go away, because life doesn’t work like that, but maybe it will make it bittersweet.”

“What does that mean, bittersweet?”

“It means happy and sad at the same time. Equal parts, so the happy cancels out the sad.”

“Oh, like when I think about Mister Jim now? I’m happy I met him, but sad we had to say goodbye.”

“Precisely. And, any time you want to see him, you can close your eyes and dream.”

“I do that with Daddy. I see him all the time when I sleep. But sometimes, when he isn’t there for a night or two, I get scared. I don’t want to dream if it means that I won’t see him ever again.”

Merry hugged me to him, and I turned to look into his eyes. Sort of like mine, except flat. “Don’t be afraid of your dreams, Emmaline. Sometimes, they’re the only things that make life real.”