Tiny Boxes

Tiny Boxes

A Chapter by My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

 

 
On the morning they were to be baptized, Rose and Pearl woke up to find tiny boxes on their pillows. The boxes were wrapped in tissue paper and decorated with sprigs of Queen Ann’s Lace. Their mother watched from the open door while the girls unwrapped the presents. “I wanted to give you something special today. I am just busting with pride today, girls.”
 
Each box held a tiny gold locket. Rose and Pearl looked at their mother. She had tears in her eyes. “I haven’t been able to give you girls a lot of fancy things. I wanted to but…” She stopped there.
 
Pearl hopped out of bed and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mama, this is the most beautiful thing I could ever own. I will treasure it forever. Here, help me put it on.” She lifted her hair so Irene could fasten the locket.
 
“Me too, Mama.” Rose handed the locket to her Mama who fastened it around her neck.
 
“Look, Rose. It opens up.”
 
“I didn’t put anything inside. You girls can decide what you want to wear around your necks.” Her hand went to her own locket.
 
“What’s in your locket, Mama?”
 
Before she could answer, Benjamin’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Can’t a man get breakfast around here? Bad enough you wasting money on trinkets. You’re going to let me go out to the fields with my belly empty.”
 
“Benjamin, you can’t work today. Today is Sunday. Your sisters are getting baptized today. It just wouldn’t be right for you to work today.”
 
“I’d rather be out there in the fields than sitting around here watching you act ridiculous.” Benjamin left, slamming the kitchen door behind him.
 
“Well we can’t be dawdling. The church bus will be coming soon and you girls can’t be going to church in your nightgowns.” Irene smiled the sad smile the girls knew so well.
 
“We’ll be ready, Mama. Don’t worry.” Rose kissed her mama again. “Don’t worry about Benjamin. I’m going to take him a nice sandwich for him to have for his lunch. He’s right. He can’t be working on an empty stomach.”
 
“Well just hurry or Benjamin won’t be the only one missing church today.” She smiled to herself at how grown up they were - especially Rose. She was her father’s daughter to be sure. She was bold and forthright while Pearl was meek and timid. She had Grover’s good looks. She was strong and tall for a girl but she was also womanly. She had matured quickly and looked much older than her twelve years. It was hard raising the girls alone. At times Rose seemed more like the mother than she did.
 
Rose got dressed quickly and made Benjamin two chicken sandwiches and cut him a piece of pie. “I’ll be back before you finish combing your hair, Mama,” she shouted as she ran down the back porch steps.
 
When Rose got to the field Benjamin already had the plow hooked up to the tractor. She took off her shoes and walked toward him. “Benjamin, Benjamin” she called. “I brought you some lunch.”
Benjamin either didn’t hear her or had decided to ignore her. He climbed onto the seat of the tractor and started the old engine and steered the tractor away from Rose. She ran into the field. Her feet sunk into the soft earth. Mud splattered onto her skirt. The previous night’s rain had left the field soaked. “Too wet to plow,” she thought.
 
Benjamin reached the end of the furrow and turned the tractor around. He headed back to the spot where Rose stood, ankle deep in mud. She waved her arms. He was too far away for him to hear her but she called out anyway. “Benjamin, stop. I want to talk to you.”
 
He looked straight at her but he didn’t stop. Instead he turned sharply. The plow and the rear wheels of the tractor dug into the mud and the front wheels lifted. The tractor back flipped. Benjamin was thrown from his seat to the soft, freshly dug earth. Rose screamed and ran toward the spot where Benjamin lay trapped beneath the tractor’s wheels. Rose managed to wedge herself under the overturned tractor and turn off the engine. All was quiet, except for her brother’s screams. 
 
“Benjamin! Oh my God. Benjamin!” She grabbed her brother’s shoulders and tried to pull him from beneath the tractor but she only intensified his pain. “Benjamin, I’m going for help.” She ran across the muddy field, back toward the house where she met her mother and sister. They had heard Benjamin’s cries and come running. “Mama, Benjamin is trapped under the tractor.”
 
Irene looked first at her mud-covered daughter then toward the field where she knew her son lay. “Go get C.M. Smith. Tell him to bring his tractor. Hurry, child. Pearl. You come with me.”
 
Rose ran as fast as she could. Up the lane, then down the dirt road toward the Smith farm a mile away. The church bus came toward her. She stood in the middle of the road waving her arms. The bus stopped and Reverend Gaskins jumped off the bus and ran toward her.
 
“Rose, what is the matter?” His gaze took in her mud covered bare feet and her torn dress.
 
“It’s Benjamin,” she gasped. “He’s trapped under the tractor. There.” She pointed to the field. “I’ve got to go get C.M. Smith to pull the tractor off him.”
 
“Get in. I can drive you there and then I’ll come back and do what I can.” As he talked he pulled Rose into the bus and threw it into reverse. He backed the bus almost a mile to the Smith house where he barely stopped as Rose leapt out and ran to the house where she related for the third time that morning what had happened to her brother. Smith wasted no time. He shouted instructions to his wife while throwing chains onto the back of his tractor. “Rebecca. Get Doctor Wright. Tell him to get there fast. Keep the girl with you. She don’t need to see this.”
 
When Smith got to the field Benjamin was still conscious and screaming in agony. Reverend Gaskins was standing next to the tractor powerless to do anything but pray. “Reverend! Don’t just stand there. Help me unhitch that plow. 
 
Together they released the plow and with the help of Pearl and Irene they pulled it away from the back of the tractor. Smith hooked one end of the chain to the overturned tractor and the other to the back of his tractor. “When I pull, you three pull him free.” He jammed his tractor into gear. At first it didn’t budge. The rear wheels just threw up mud but then slowly Smith’s tractor moved forward just a few inches but enough to allow them to pull Benjamin from beneath the wheel. 
 

His left leg was mangled. “Irene! Give me your petticoat. We have to get a tourniquet on this boy.” Smith could see that the soft earth saved Benjamin’s life. If it had been hard he would have been crushed to death.



© 2008 My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer


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Reviews

This book is so whole-some and good.

Posted 13 Years Ago


Now this story is really coming together. I like how you wrote about the soft earth saving Ben's life.

Posted 16 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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Added on February 5, 2008
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Author

My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer
My Name is Brenda and I'm a Writer

Falls Church, VA



About
My first novel was inspired by my own childhood on Pungo Creek in rural North Carolina where I grew up in a house shared by three generations. It seems it took a lifetime to write but it was actually.. more..

Writing