Man in the Blue Moon Read Free Page A

trapped inside a body that was becoming a man.
    “I’ve decided to go ahead and pick up that shipment from the clock company.”
    Keaton jumped up from the wooden chair and shuffled his feet in a playful way that made Macon laugh and then grimace in pain. Before Ella could touch Macon’s forehead again, her youngest son sighed, expressing the frustration they all felt toward the illness that not even Narsissa with her herbs and chants could eradicate.
    “Where has Samuel run off to now?” Ella asked. Since the day the doctor had prescribed him the role of head of the household, Samuel had taken the responsibility with a seriousness that at first made Ella proud. Now his arrogance was irritating. It was, she realized, the same overconfidence that had first attracted her to his father.
    “Samuel is still out squirrel hunting,” Keaton said. His eyes were green like her father’s had been. Of the three boys, Keaton was the one who felt most like hers, seemingly untainted by the troubled blood of her husband.
    “Please get him. Ask him to hitch the wagon. And ask Narsissa to come inside. She can stay with Macon until we get back from town.”
    Inside her bedroom, Ella looked into the spider-veined mirror above her dresser. Pulling her hair into a twist against the nape of her neck, she snatched out a gray strand. She put on the earrings Narsissa had made for her out of baby mockingbird feathers and oyster shells. Fingering the dangling earrings, she felt that by wearing them she somehow paid homage to the young woman she used to be. That young woman, who had been sent to attend finishing school in Apalachicola by the aunt with dreams, had become nothing more than a mist that sprinkled her memories. For some odd reason, Ella could still recite bits and pieces of a poem from English class. A verse about the eyes being the mirror to the soul. Pulling back the skin around her forehead and causing the wrinkles to momentarily disappear, Ella studied her eyes. There was dullness now that resembled the marbles her sons played with in the dirt. She snatched up a doily that her aunt had knit years ago and flung it over the mirror.
    After she had dressed in the last gift her husband had given her, a dropped-waist lilac-colored dress shipped from Atlanta, Ella kissed Macon on the forehead and tried not to look at the open sores lining his swollen lips. Narsissa sat in the chair next to the bed. She had brought the butter churn inside and with a steady rhythm pumped the wooden handle.
    As Ella rose up from kissing her son, loose ends of Narsissa’s hair tickled her arm. Narsissa leaned close and whispered in that graveled voice that always made Ella think she was part man, “Don’t pay that steamboat company one cent until you see what you are getting because—”
    “Narsissa, please don’t.” Ella pulled away and straightened the top of her dress. “Don’t patronize. Not today.”
    Narsissa leaned back in the chair and made a mulish huffing sound. She flung her coarse braid and continued churning the butter.
    “When I come back, I’ll have that taffy for you, and a surprise,” Ella told Macon. “I’ll have a surprise waiting.”
    Macon tried to smile, but his chin quivered. Kissing her finger, Ella pointed at her son and then kissed it once more and pointed at Narsissa, who pretended not to notice.
    Outside, Samuel was squinting as he jerked the halter on the draft mule and led the wagon closer to the back of the store. Ella saw her oldest son watching her, studying her through the gaps in the tall sunflowers she had planted years ago for beauty as much as for a border between their family life and the life meant for income.
    “Mama, can I go to the picture show?” Keaton asked as he climbed into the back of the wagon.
    “We’ll see.”
    Samuel climbed up on the wagon, and Ella felt his leg brush against hers. At least he didn’t pull away. Keaton leaned in from behind and jabbed Samuel. “Clayton Carson says