Page 5 of Where the Rivers Merge

Tree hollows are cavities formed in the trunk or branches of a live or dead tree. Such hollows are usually more characteristic of older, mature to over-mature trees but may form in earlier-growth stages depending on tree species. They are a natural feature that can be important for wildlife.

1908

“You in there, girl?”

I felt someone grip my shoulder and shake me hard. I didn’t want to awaken and moaned softly, feeling groggy. My eyelids felt heavy and gritty when I tried to open them. “Go away.”

“I said, wake up!”

The voice was more insistent. “We’re both gonna get in a mess of trouble unless you come outta there. So come out, hear? If’n you don’t come out, I’ll get my daddy to come get you out.”

There was a tone in the girl’s voice that bordered on a fight. I was too tired to muster anger, so I forced open my eyes. The world was dimly lit, and I was lying on the ground, curled up against the chill. I looked to be in some kind of nest.

“Where am I?”

I sat up so fast my head started spinning.

“You’re inside a hollow,”

the girl called back. “Don’t you know that? I ain’t goin’ in there. Ain’t you scared of spiders and snakes? Come on out.”

“I’m not scared.”

I hated to be called scared. My brothers used that against me all the time, me being a girl. I idly scratched an itch on my arm that had scabbed over and looking down saw several angry red scratches from my elbow to wrist. As I scanned the dark wooden crevices surrounding me, memories of the night before flashed through my mind. I was running in the woods. I was lost. It was raining. I remembered seeing the tree, and the hollow. I’d run into it for protection.

I’m inside the tree. The thought filled me with wonder. Now I could make out the sharp, crooked ridges of the inner belly of the great tree rising high up into the darkness. My hands felt the soft layer of moss that had been my bed. To my relief, there weren’t any snakes and spiders I could see.

“You coming?”

“All right.”

“You sure taking your sweet time.”

She seemed peeved, so I shifted to all fours and, one hand after another, quickly crawled out from the darkness into the brilliant light of day. I scrunched up my face and shielded my eyes with my hand, realizing I must’ve slept in the tree all night.

I swiped away the twisted hairs from my face. Rat’s nest, Mama called my hair. I was outdoors in the broad daylight still in my nightgown, and worse, it was muddy and ripped at the hem. Mama was going to scold when she saw that.

“You’re Miss Eliza Rivers, ain’t you?”

“Uh-huh,”

I said and rubbed my eyes as I studied the girl kneeling on the earth beside me. She was a Negro girl and looked to be about the same age as me. Her black hair was tightly braided past her shoulders. And her eyes were a wonder. Orbs of green, gold, and gray were locked inside a dark perimeter, drawing you in. It was like looking into the woods on a sunny day.

“Your daddy and mama are lookin’ for you,”

she said with a scold. “My daddy told me to go and search you out. Shoot, most of Beaufort County is out lookin’ for you. You been missing since last night.”

Her eyes sparked with import. “They even checkin’ the rivers.”

I heard this with both a thrill that I was the subject of so much interest, and fear of the whupping I’d get when I got home. “I got lost.”

“I reckon,”

she said, looking me over. Then shaking her head, she said with sympathy, “You got scratches all up and down your arms. They hurt?”

I shook my head.

“Well, come on, then,”

she said, rising to her feet. “My house is just around the bend, over by the river.”

I balked. “I got to go to my house.”

“It’s too far. Wilton ought to be by soon. He’ll know how best to let your folks know you’re okay.”

“You know Wilton?”

I was surprised she knew the manager of the plantation.

The girl made a face and waved her hand. “’Course I do. He’s my daddy.”

Daddy? I scratched my head. I didn’t know Wilton had a child. He didn’t have a wife. “You call your daddy ‘Wilton’?”

“That’s what everyone calls him.”

“How come I never met you before?”

The girl merely shrugged. “How come I never met you before?”

With that, she turned on her heel.

I thought it odd that she called her daddy by his given name, but I didn’t have time to think about it because the girl was already walking off. I didn’t want to be lost again, so I scrambled to my feet, brushed myself off, and ran after her. We walked single file along a worn path toward the river. The grass was still damp from the rain and was soaking the hem of my nightgown, but the sun shone brightly in a brilliant, cloudless sky. Ahead of me the girl swung her arms and took long, confident strides with skinny legs. Her feet were wrapped in brown lace-up boots and her yellow dress swirled around her knees. I was having a hard time keeping up being barefoot, and my nightgown kept getting snagged in every branch and spur I passed. Frustrated, I hitched the trailing nightgown in my fists up over my knees and trotted quickly to catch up.

“Hey, I don’t know your name,”

I shouted.

The girl turned her head and called back over her shoulder. “Covey. Like a flock of birds. My daddy told me he gave me that name because that’s what we are. A flock that sticks together. On account my mama died when I was a babe.”

“That’s real sad.”

“Not really. I don’t remember her none.”

She spoke so matter-of-fact about it that I took her at her word.

“How old are you, anyway?” I asked.

“Eight. Near nine.”

“Me too.”

Covey’s lips twitched. “You’re pretty scrawny for eight.”

I scowled. “You seem pretty bossy for a girl the same age.”

Covey merely shrugged then turned and continued walking. I felt ready to explode but I wasn’t about to argue with her now. I shook my head and skipped to catch up with her. We both walked on in silence.

I heard the river before I saw it. The water was rushing swiftly, high along the banks from the heavy rain. Dappled sunlight played with the current, creating sparks of light that revealed clouds of midges hovering over the water. Even though it was fall, everything was still lush green, from the grasses that climbed the banks to the scrubby shrubs and trees. Here and there I spied specks of gold in the leaves, hinting change was coming. Daddy always said that fall was his favorite season. I was never sure if it was because of the colors or because it was the beginning of hunting season. We turned the bend, and I spotted a tidy white cottage sitting prettily on the rise.

“Wait here,”

Covey told me.

I obliged. She walked toward the house where the grass was trimmed low, then climbed the few wooden steps to the front porch. Moving closer, I saw a pair of men’s boots beside the front door that I figured belonged to Wilton. I watched as she passed the door and headed straight for a small wooden table nestled between two ladderback chairs. She pulled something out of a tin box. Covey didn’t talk as she came back to the front yard. She headed straight for what looked to me like the frame of a teepee set on a bed of gravel. Three tree limbs were joined together at the top over a platform with some kind of firepit.

I drew closer and watched as Covey struck the match. My mouth slipped open in awe. Mama didn’t even let me touch matches. Covey seemed right handy with them. As soon as the match caught flame she bent to light the dried grass and leaves under the kindle wood. I was mightily impressed when the fire sparked.

“Now we gots to get some green,”

Covey said. “Let’s try to find some cedar. That works best.”

I didn’t tell her I didn’t know what cedar leaves looked like, but once again I followed Covey and gathered the flat, feathery leaves she did from the nearby woods. We hurried back to add it to the fire. The wood was burning real good now. Every time we tossed more green leaves onto the fire it devoured them like it was a hungry beast, then belched out plumes of smoke high into the sky. I laughed at the sight.

“There,”

Covey said, looking at the smoking fire with satisfaction.

“Why’d you do that?”

Covey peered at me like I was a fool. “It’s a smoke signal. Wilton made it so if I ever needed him in a hurry, he’d see it and come running. I reckon this is just such a time.”

She wiped the soot from her hands on her apron. “All we got to do now is wait.”

“You mean, he’ll come if he sees the smoke?”

“Sure will. Just look and see how high the smoke is going. Everyone who’s searching for you will see it.”

I craned my neck back and saw the dark smoke billowing high up over the tips of the tallest longleaf pines. For sure Daddy ought to see that!

“You’re covered with dirt,”

Covey said, giving me a good once-over.

Embarrassed, I scowled. “So?”

“So, do you know how to swim?”

“’Course I do,”

I answered, lifting my chin. “My brother Heyward taught me. He’s a good swimmer. Fact, he’s good at everything.”

She didn’t look like she believed me. “Not many girls know how to swim. Boys neither.”

“You’re a girl,”

I fired back. “Do you know how?”

“I sure do. Wilton said living near the river, and me being alone a lot, I needed to know how to swim so I didn’t drown. See, his daddy drowned in the river and Wilton said that wasn’t ever going to happen to him, so he took it upon himself to learn and he teached me.”

There was truth in what she said. “My mama doesn’t know how to swim,”

I conceded. “She says a lady doesn’t never go near the water, except to observe its beauty.”

I felt obliged to share that in defense of my mother’s lacking. Then added, “Mama doesn’t know that I know how to swim, neither. She thinks only my brothers go to the river. She’d be mad as a hornet if she found out I went with them. Doesn’t seem fair only the boys get all the fun. Still, she’d say it wasn’t ladylike.”

Covey laughed at that. “I don’t think it’s ladylike to drown, neither.”

Her laughter sounded sweet to my ears. I was glad that she took my side on matters of being a lady.

“I’m all sweaty from searching for you all morning. And you’re all covered with mud. I reckon if we jump in the river, that’s the quickest way to get cleaned off. You want to?”

“Sure.”

I followed Covey down the slope of sparse grass spotted with patches of blue mist wildflowers along the bank. She took off down the long, rickety dock that reached far out over the river. The old wood was warm under my feet, and we were careful to avoid the rotted patches. I walked with my arms out over bits so narrow I feared I’d fall into the river.

At the dock’s edge I carefully peered over. Below I saw the river racing furiously, like some ferocious beast. The water wasn’t clear like in the shallows that me and Heyward swam in. Here, the river was deep and roiling, the color of Mama’s tea. I couldn’t even see the bottom.

“You sure there aren’t any gators down in there?”

Covey drew near and casually looked down into the river. “Nah. Wilton says they like it best in the rice fields where there’s lots of grass to hide in and ducks to eat. They don’t come way down here. I never seen even one, not ever. Leastways not here by our dock. But I always look, just in case.”

She studied the water for a while with her hands on her hips. She straightened and shook her head. “Nope, nothing there.”

I was skeptical. I’d heard tales of gators as big as a boat in these waters. “Daddy lost a hunting dog to a gator once. That’s one of his most popular stories to tell.”

I looked doubtfully at the murky water. “You sure?”

“Cross my heart. I go swimming here most every day.”

She bent to take off her boots then looked up at me staring back at her, unmoving. “You coming or not?”

She saw I hadn’t moved and began unbuttoning the row of buttons on the front of her dress. “You scared?”

That did it. I slipped the nightgown over my head and dropped it on the dock. The river breeze cooled the sweat on my bare chest. When Covey pulled off her dress, we looked at each other standing on the dock in our cotton drawers and laughed.

Covey held out her hand. “Hold on to my hand and we’ll jump in together.”

Covey’s hand was near the same size as mine, but when I grabbed it, I felt the strength of it as she tightened her grip around my fingers.

“Ready?”

Covey asked in a high voice.

I swallowed hard, then nodded. “Ready.”

Holding hands, we took off running toward the end of the dock. With a squeal and a single leap, we were airborne. In that instant I felt I was flying! Then my feet hit the water. Cold. My breath whooshed out in a flurry of bubbles. I’d never gone under so deep before. It was strange the way my hair floated out from my head and my legs flailed in the murky water. As the river swallowed me up, I lost my grip on Covey’s hand. I kicked hard upward, gasping when my head broke the surface. The sun was on my face and blinking, I saw a blue sky.

“Eliza!”

I turned toward the voice. With a start, I realized I was being carried in the current, farther away from Covey and the dock. On instinct I began dog-paddling toward the dock in the way my brother had taught me.

“Eliza, swim harder!”

Covey was clinging to the ladder on the dock and waving to me to come.

The water was so cold my chest felt tight, and my breath came in choked gasps. My arms thrashed wildly as the current pushed me farther from Covey. Fear gave me strength. Stretching my arms out like I’d seen Heyward do, I kicked and dug against the current, gaining inch by inch. Water splashed my face and down my throat. I coughed and spat out the muddy taste. I couldn’t catch my breath. Panic struck. My legs felt numb, and the river pushed me back as easily as if I was driftwood.

“Covey!”

I croaked.

“Grab my hand!”

Covey reached out toward me.

I saw her hand as a lifeline. Fixing it in my sight and mustering my strength once again, I paddled with everything I had, kicking furiously against the river’s icy hold. When I drew close, Covey lunged for my hand. I felt her fingers tighten around mine, then with a firm tug, I was at the ladder. I grabbed the wood, slimy with algae, and hung on for dear life.

Inches from my own face, Covey was panting like me, eyes wide. I reckon we both knew, without saying words, that we’d been in trouble.

“Last night’s rain made the current strong,”

she said, wiping water from her eyes.

I could see Covey was shaken. But oddly, though I’d been scared a moment ago, I now felt elated. Even triumphant. I wasn’t fool enough to lose my grip of the ladder, but I let my legs float out behind me. The water flowed and swirled around them, and I felt a heady sensation. I laughed out loud.

“Girl? What’s so funny?”

“I never swam in water so deep before. My brother only lets me paddle around in the shallows. But I did it!”

I added, grinning with pride. “Let’s do it again!”

“Girl, you crazy?”

Covey snorted, shaking her head. “Let’s go up.”

Reluctantly I climbed up the ladder behind her. We stretched out on the dock, arms at our sides and faces to the sun. The wood was warm, and the September sun set to drying our skin.

“The water was too strong,”

Covey said on a ragged sigh. “I shouldn’t have said to go in.”

“I got scared,”

I confessed.

“You got the mud off, at least,”

Covey replied with a laugh.

I guffawed and raised my arms, seeing that indeed she was right. The flesh of my arms showed red scratches, but they didn’t look as angry. Suddenly, my stomach let out a loud growl. Embarrassed, I turned my head to look at Covey. We both began laughing again.

“Come on. I’ll fix something to eat.”

We slipped our garments back on and made our way barefoot to the cottage. I think we both felt something had shifted between us. Having confronted death together, we were no longer strangers. It was like we’d been friends for a long time.

“Why are your door and window frames painted blue?”

I asked as we approached the front door. I’d never seen such a bright blue painted on a house before.

“That’s to keep the haints away.”

“You mean ghosts?”

“Sure. Ghosts, haints, boo hags. Everyone knows that.”

I didn’t.

The inside of the cottage was as tidy as a pin. The living room wasn’t near as big as Mayfield’s, but it didn’t feel small. An old blue sofa sat under the front windows with a lively colored patchwork quilt draped over the back. Two mismatched wood chairs and a coffee table were in front of it. On the other side of the room a multicolored rag rug lay underneath a round table with four ladderback chairs, each with a cherry-red cushion. The only other furniture was a glass-paned gun case. Beside it was a tall sweetgrass basket that held carved walking sticks, and a hat rack from which hung several straw hats. The walls were void of any pictures.

Covey returned carrying two pottery plates. “Come eat.”

My tummy rumbled again, so I hurried to the table. Covey set a plate before me. On it was a thick piece of white bread smothered with honey. I took a bite and almost groaned out loud, it tasted so good.

“I don’t think I’ve ever ate anything as good as this.”

“That’s Wilton’s honey from his bees. He’s real good to them and he says they’re real good to us right back.”

She took a big bite and, smiling, said, “I’m mighty hungry too. I didn’t get to eat this morning ’cause I was out looking for you.”

“Sorry.”

“Reckon that’s why it tastes so good. Wilton says food always tastes better when you’re hungry.”

I took another big bite. I thought back and realized I hadn’t eaten since supper the night before. It was meager fare. Clementine was flustered getting the fancy dinner ready for Mama’s guests. Pots were simmering and clanging on the big iron stove, making the kitchen hot and sweaty. Heyward and Lesesne grabbed most of the meat leftovers before I even got my plate.

Peeved, I left the table and crept into Mama’s room. I always loved to watch her get all prettied up. I crouched in a corner like a mouse, mesmerized by the way she tilted her head and dabbed at her face at the mirror. My daddy stepped in, dressed for hunting. He went to kiss Mama’s cheek, saying she was pretty enough she didn’t need the war paint. He always said that to her, and Mama always slapped his shoulder and laughed. When Mama finished doing up her face and went downstairs to confer with Clementine, I sneaked over to the vanity table. All Mama’s makeup lay before me in sweet little painted jars.

Looking in the mirror, my face was tanned after a summer in the sun, something Mama had told me was a disgrace. “No lady lets her skin get dark,”

she’d scolded. Hoping to mend that, I reached for her face powder first. It smelled sweet, and the small puff made of goose down tickled as I tapped my cheeks. The powder fell over my face as soft as snow. I swear, it did make my face appear lighter. Next, I reached for the pot of rouge. It looked like cherry jelly. I dabbed it on the way I’d seen Mama do it. Two red dots bloomed on my cheeks. I turned my head from left to right, admiring my reflection. Using my fingertip, I smoothed more of the sticky red stain on my lips. I giggled at the sight of me, thinking I looked like my doll.

“Wretched child!”

Mama cried out from the doorway.

My heart froze in my chest. I dropped the rouge in a clatter and slunk from the vanity stool.

Mama rushed to her vanity. “You horrid, ugly girl. Look at what you did,”

she shouted, putting the pot of rouge inches from my face. I could see the center was gouged by my fingertips. “Do you know how expensive these are? Look at you. You look like a clown!”

She was as riled as I’d ever seen her, and she wasn’t done yet.

“And your hair.”

She tsked in disgust. “Your hair is like a rat’s nest. I’ve told you over and over to brush your hair, but you won’t. You’re mean-spirited and stubborn, just like your father.”

Her face crinkled with disgust. “Get out of my sight. Go sleep in the barn with the rest of the animals.”

All I wanted to do was be as beautiful as she was. I thought Mama would be pleased I was trying to be pretty. But now I knew I never would be. Shame bloomed in my chest, and I ran from her room straight to the bathroom down the hall that I shared with my brothers. I poured water from the pitcher into the bowl. Grabbing the soap, I scrubbed my face. The soap stung my eyes, and my cheeks burned as I heard my mother’s words again in my head: You horrid, ugly girl.

I lowered the towel from my face and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My mouth was set in a firm line and my eyes blazed. If Mama said I was like an animal, then that was what I would be. I’d run away and live in the wild where I belonged. I’d show her.

Across the table, Covey was waiting for me to say something.

“Huh?”

“Eliza, you’ve been woolgathering. What you thinkin’ about?”

My shoulders slumped. “I was thinking I had to go back home again.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Sure, I guess. I mean, there’s nowhere else for me to go. Unless . . . could I live here with you?”

“Live here?”

Covey burst out with a short laugh. “Go on. You’ve got a big fancy house to live in. Why’d you want to live here?”

“My mama will be really mad at me this time. I’ll get punished for sure.”

“Aw, I’m sure she’s just worried. You been gone since last night, after all.”

As though on cue, from outdoors I heard the sound of hooves and a man’s voice calling urgently, “Hey there!”

“That’s Daddy!”

I crammed the last bite of bread into my mouth and rushed from the house, Covey close at my heels.

Two horses trotted to the front porch, Wilton riding a dun, my daddy on his favorite bay. He no sooner reached the cottage when, spying me on the porch, Daddy tossed the reins, slid from the horse, and took the stairs in a single leap. Once on the porch he scooped me into his big arms and swung me around like a rag doll, holding me so tight I couldn’t breathe. I clung to him, smelling the sweat on his neck, feeling the roughness of his denim jacket.

When Daddy set me back down on the porch, he crouched low so his face was inches from mine. His scruffy blond hair, which always looked unbrushed, fell over his forehead, and he was grinning ear to ear. But his blue eyes were brimming with tears.

“Lizzie, where have you been?”

he asked, his voice raspy with emotion. He brought his arm up to swipe his eyes. “We’ve been looking for you all night. Folks are combing the rice fields and Mama . . .”

He paused. “Well, she’s collapsed in bed. We feared the worst.”

“Am I in trouble?”

I croaked out.

Daddy barked out a laugh. “Trouble? You’re worried you’re in trouble? Hell, we’ll all just be singing God’s praises you’re alive. Where were you?”

he asked again.

“I got lost,”

I blurted out. “I wandered too far, and it started to rain, and I found this tree, and hid in it till Covey found me.”

The words came tumbling out in a rush. Then, I burst into tears. Daddy brought his calloused hand to my head and pressed it to his shoulder.

“It’s okay,”

he murmured.

Wilton walked up the stairs. “You done real good to light the signal,”

he said to Covey. “We spotted it and came straight here. Glad to know the system works.”

Covey grinned with pride.

“How come your hair’s all wet?”

Daddy asked me.

I leaned back to look in his face. My tears dried up real quick as I brimmed with pride. “I jumped in the river!” I crowed.

His eyes widened. “You went in that river? It’s wild from the rain. You could’ve drowned.”

“But I didn’t. I swam, just like Heyward taught me. We jumped in and I beat the current.”

Wilton’s smile slipped to a scowl as he turned to Covey. “Child, you know better than to swim in a river that’s angry.”

Covey looked to her feet. “Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be mad at them,”

Daddy said, rising to his feet. He rolled his shoulders, releasing a night’s strain. “I think they’ve been pretty darn grown-up to survive a night in the woods alone, light a signal fire, and swim in a raging river and live to tell the tale.”

He put his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go home, Lizzie.”

He guided me down the porch stairs, but I balked and ran back up to Covey. I wrapped her in a hug and squeezed tight. “Thanks for finding me.”

I looked to Daddy and said, “Can I come back here to play with Covey?”

Daddy half smiled and put his hands on his hips. “So, you found yourself a friend. I’ll wager your brothers will be relieved.”

He was teasing me, but I needed to know. “Daddy,”

I pressed. “Can I?”

“Sure, we can arrange that. ’Course, we’ll have to teach you the way back home,”

he added with a light laugh. “We can’t have half the county hunting for you each time you go visiting your new friend.”

Then he looked over to Covey. She straightened under his gaze, but Daddy smiled warmly. “And you’re welcome up at the house anytime. Thank you kindly for helping my girl.”

Covey relaxed. Her eyes were bright.

Our gazes locked. As I stared into her mercurial hazel eyes, I felt a strange surge of emotion—like I was back in the river, deep and marshy green—rushing through me, brimming with promise.