Читать книгу The Evolution of Crimson - Jerry Aldridge - Страница 11

July 11, 1950

During that fateful summer of 1963, when Frances and Winifred dropped Trisha at Helen’s house in Alberta City every day on their way to classes at the University, Winifred would occasionally think about the summers she spent with Helen and her grandparents on the farm in Manchester. One steamy morning in late June, Helen was waiting for the Dodd family on her curb next to her mailbox so she could tell them about the rattlesnake she had killed that morning just after breakfast—right in her backyard. As Helen was telling how she killed the snake with a shovel, Winifred thought back to the summer of 1950 when she had an encounter with a snake at the farm, not too long after Helen had introduced her to the bull with red eyes. A week after the bull incident, Helen went back to her parents in Tarrant. Winifred stayed one more week with Nana and Daddy Mims. Nana was thrilled to have Winifred another week without Helen. Winifred was Nana’s favorite grandchild, and not without reason. Helen had put firecrackers in the mailbox and tried to blow it up; she’d started a fire in the barn, and nearly drowned Winifred, playing baptism in the creek—all during the month of June.

Nana and Winifred had a common bond, albeit a questionable one. They were both worriers. Nana was a natural born worrier—what her friends called a worry wart. She had three concerns about Winifred. She was afraid Winifred was too much of a follower. Winifred would do anything others wanted her to do, even if she didn’t want to. Winifred’s time with Helen over the past month had certainly proven that. Nana also worried that Winifred was afraid of everything. Winifred didn’t like to try new thing and she became frightened easily, even over their Scottish terrier that Nana thought was as sweet as pie. And Nana’s worst fear about Winifred was that somehow she’d inherited all of this from her. Nana worried enough for everyone in the family. She didn’t need any help from Winifred and hoped this sweet, poor girl would stop worrying about everything and leave that to Nana.

During Winifred’s last week on the farm, Nana’s sister Kizarine, whose friends called her Kizzie, had come from Tampa, Florida for a visit. Late one afternoon Nana and Kizzie were in the garden picking plump, juicy strawberries that were perfect for making strawberry shortcake and homemade ice cream. Winifred was supposedly helping them, but she ate as many strawberries as she put in her basket.

Kizzie took off her hat to fan herself and exclaimed, “Whew! It’s hotter than a witch’s tit.”

“No, that expression is ‘colder than a witch’s tit,” explained her sister, Versie.

“Don’t correct my grammar. I live in Florida. It don’t get cold there. Everything’s hot.”

Versie and Kizzie always talked nonsense like this when they got together. To them, it was an intimate way to show affection, but anyone who heard their usual conversations would just consider them bat shit crazy. They were bickering and laughing when Winifred suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Would you look at that?” questioned Kizzie. “Why it’s a garter snake as big as a hoe.”

Winifred dropped her basket and ran as fast as she could for the house.

Aunt Kizzie hollered, “Don’t you worry about that snake, hon! It won’t hurt you.”

Winifred wasn’t listening. She was sure the snake was after her. She looked backwards and, in her mind, she saw the snake gaining on her. When she got to the house, she ran up the five steps to the porch. On the porch, she looked down to the bottom step and was sure she saw the snake.

Winifred fretted, “That snake can climb up these steps just like I did. I’m not safe. Help!”

She went in the house and latched the hook on the eye of the screen door. Then she slammed the huge wooden door and secured the deadbolt lock.

Winifred then reasoned, “That snake can chew through the screen door. Then it can gnaw through the wooden door. I can’t just stand here and let it get me.” Winifred ran to the kitchen, stopping next to the kitchen table. She decided she was still not safe and would have to climb on top of the table, but she was not big enough. She stood on a kitchen chair, climbed on it and then leaped to the top of the table. She sat there for awhile and then became distressed again.

She determined, “That snake can climb up the chair, just like I did. I’m still not safe. I have to knock over all the chairs. She stood on the table and kicked the backs or all the chairs around it until they fell down. There she was on the kitchen table with no way to get down.

Half an hour later, Nana Mims and Great Aunt Kizzie brought their baskets, filled with strawberries back to the house but they were locked out. They shouted for Winifred to open the door and let them in.

“I’m on the kitchen table and can’t get down.”

“Why on earth are you on the kitchen table?” Nana hollered.

“Because the snake chased me all the way back and I thought it might get in and bite me and I was scared.”

“What are we going to do now? We’re locked out and you’re on the table and can’t get down?” yelled Kizzie.

Winifred sat down on the table and slowly lowered her legs to the ground as she balanced her hands on the edge of the table. She ran to the door and unlocked it and the screen door.

Aunt Kizzie told Winifred, “That snake didn’t come near you. I killed that snake with a hoe back in the strawberry patch.”

“No auntie! I saw the snake. There must have been two!”