P. Parrish - South Of Hell

“Don’t cry,” she murmured. “Mama’s here, Charles. We’re safe now, Charles, we’re safe in the corn.”

Louis felt a trickle of sweat make its way slowly down his back.

“Charles is your son, Amy?” Dr. Sher asked.

She nodded.

“Who is Charles’s father?” Dr. Sher prodded.

Amy took a long time to answer, and when she did, it was in the softest of whispers. “Amos.” Her face creased into a frown that made her look suddenly much older. “Miz Phoebe tried to kill Charles. She took him one night and went to the creek to drown him. Amos stopped her. We… Amos has built us a house out in the cornfield. He is good to me.”

The mantel clock chimed two times.

Dr. Sher’s face had a sheen of sweat on it. She drew a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at her face, and looked down at Amy.

“I want you to go to the time when your breathing problems first started, Amy,” she said.

Amy didn’t respond.

“Can you do that? Can you tell me about the first time you felt like you couldn’t breathe?”

“I don’t…”

“I’m here with you, Amy,” Dr. Sher said softly. “It will be all right, I promise.”

The room fell quiet again.

“It’s dark tonight, no drinking gourd to light the way,” she said. “But the preacher says there’s a parcel coming. So I light a candle and put it in the parlor window.”

For a moment, Amy said nothing more.

“I am afraid,” she whispered.

“Why are you afraid?” Dr. Sher asked.

“The wind blows from the south tonight,” Amy said.

A loud click made Louis jump. Dr. Sher waved a hand toward him, then pointed at the small tape recorder on the table near Amy’s head. She made a flipping motion with her hand. Louis realized she wanted him to turn over the tape. He did so, then returned to his place beside Joe.

Again, it was silent, except for the sound of Amy’s breathing.

“He’s here,” Amy said suddenly.

“Who?” Dr. Sher pressed.

“He calls himself John.” Amy whispered another word that, to Louis, sounded like “lapel.” Then she was quiet again.

“He is so thin, and he is coughing,” she said. “His clothes are ragged. I give him one of Amos’s old coats and take him to the hiding place. It is so cold there, and I feel bad about leaving him, but he will be safe here until the shepherd comes.”

A small smile came to Amy’s face.

“He tells me about his wife, Fanny, back in New Orleans.” The smile faded. “She was taken from him. His son, too. Leaves stripped from the trees…

“He misses them so much. He says someday, when he is a free man, he will go back and find them.” Amy’s eyes fluttered. “He shows me her locket.”

Louis stiffened. Another long silence. He felt Joe shift on the cushions beside him. She had moved forward, her eyes intent on Amy’s face.

Amy’s face…

It had grown tight and contorted, and Louis had the crazy thought that she looked like someone who was staring down the barrel of a gun. He had seen that look before, because he had been the one holding the gun, and he had never forgotten that look on the other person’s face. Like he had no skin, and every nerve was exposed.

“Amy? What’s happening, Amy?” Dr. Sher said.

“Horses,” she whispered. “I hear horses and now dogs. The soul catchers are coming.”

“Who?” Dr. Sher pressed.

“I have to get back to the cellar. I see the horses by the barn and the men. The horses make clouds in the air.”

“Amy, who is there with you?”

“I can’t let them find John.”

“Amy, where are you?”

“No, not the cellar. John is there. The corn… I have to get to the corn.”

“Amy-”

“Run to the corn, make them chase me, so they won’t find John.” She began to pant, like she was out of breath. “Oh… oh! Oh, God!”

“What’s happening?”

“They caught me… they are dragging me into the barn. Amos! Where are you? Amos, help me!”

“What is-?”

“They’ve tied me to the hook and are pulling me up. My blouse, they ripped off my clothes… oh, it’s so cold. The horses are screaming.”

“Amy-”

“They’re whipping me… but I won’t tell them. I won’t tell them where John is. They want to find him and take him back. I won’t tell, I won’t tell…”

Suddenly, Amy began to cry. Dr. Sher leaned forward and put her hand over Amy’s.

“What is it, dear? Tell me.”

“Amos,” she whispered. “He is here. I can see him. I loved him, and he did this to me.”

Amy’s hands came up to cover her face as she cried. Dr. Sher pulled back, her face pale.

Amy began to gag. Louis felt Joe tense, and he looked at her. She was holding a hand over her mouth, her eyes brimming.

“What’s happening, Amy?” Dr. Sher said.

“I… can’t… breathe.”

Dr. Sher leaned forward. “Why? What’s happening to you?”

Amy hands came up, as if she were warding off a blow. “They are burying me. But I am not dead yet .” She gagged and drew in a hard breath. “Charles!”

Amy went limp. It was quiet.

Dr. Sher picked up Amy’s wrist to feel her pulse. She looked to Louis and Joe and nodded, mouthing, “She’s okay.”

“Amy?” Dr. Sher said softly after a few seconds.

It took a long time, but finally, a whisper. “Yes?”

“Where are you now?”

“Floating. They want me to rest now.”

“They?”

Amy didn’t answer.

The clock chimed again. Louis looked to the mantel. It was two-thirty. A soft sound made him look back at Amy. She was humming. Hugging herself, rocking gently back and forth as she lay on the settee. The humming became words.

…we poor souls will have our peace,

there’s a better day a-comin’ —

Will you go along with me?

There’s a better day a-comin’,

Go sound the jubilee…

Louis listened, not moving a muscle. He didn’t know the words, yet something about the song was familiar. Then he realized where he had heard it, or a song very much like it, once before. At his mother’s funeral back in Mississippi, the “going home,” as they had called it. A cluster of women in black softly singing his mother home as he stood apart, listening.

It was time to bring Amy out of her trance. Louis watched as Dr. Sher began to count backward from ten. “You will remember all this when you wake up, Amy, but you won’t be afraid,” Dr. Sher said.

And with that, Amy opened her eyes. She sat up, self-consciously pulling the top of her blouse closed. Her cheeks were dotted with color. Louis thought she looked like someone who had just emerged from a nap.

But Dr. Sher? She was pale, her red bangs plastered to her forehead with sweat. And Joe? She was standing over by the piano, her back to them. When had she gotten up off the sofa? Louis hadn’t even felt it.

“How do you feel, dear?” Dr. Sher asked.

It took a second or two for the doctor’s question to register. “I’m fine,” Amy said.

“Do you remember what just happened?”

Amy nodded. “I didn’t help things, did I?”

“What do you mean?” Dr. Sher asked.

“I couldn’t remember anything about Momma,” Amy said.

Dr. Sher took Amy’s hand. “That will come.”

Amy shook her head. “But I need to help. Can we try again?”

“No, dear,” Dr. Sher said. “You’ve done enough for today.”

Louis looked to Joe. She was staring at Amy. Suddenly, Amy got up and went to her. She wrapped her arms around Joe’s waist and rested her head on Joe’s chest.

Joe hesitated, then put her arms around Amy.

For a moment, Louis couldn’t decipher what he was seeing in Joe’s face. Then, suddenly, he knew what it was. He had seen the look before, on the face of his foster mother, Frances, when she found out her husband had been in love with another woman for the last thirty years. Frances’s world had shifted, because that one thing had forced her to question everything she believed to be real and solid.