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“Apparently you are!” I laughed; my heart was bursting.
Then I took his hand. “Come and meet everybody,” I insisted.
Edith bent to pick up one crutch, and when Atticus noticed, he bent to pick up the other, positioned them both back underneath his arms. I looped one arm around his then, and I walked with him to the lake that sprawled out in front of us like glass, reflecting the sky and the trees that bordered it. Across the calm surface, on the other side of the lake, little campfires blazed in the darkness cast by the trees; people fished from the bank, and from a few small boats.
“Atticus, this is Ossie,” I introduced the tall, lanky Black man wearing the straw hat. “He’s who found us near the mass grave.”
Ossie nodded and reached out a hand.
ATTICUS
I shook it. “Good to meet you”—I glanced at Thais, saw how clean and healthy and unharmed and happy she was, and I squeezed Ossie’s hand tighter, shook it more firmly—“Thank you, sir. I owe you a debt I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay, but I’ll do whatever I can. Thank you.”
“Oh, you owe no debt to me, sir,” Ossie said, and the handshake broke. “Only debt you should repay is to the Lord. I just do what He tells me to do.”
“Well, just the same,” I said, avoiding talk of ‘the Lord’, “I’m still willing to help out with anything—just ask.”
Thais beamed up at me, and her arm tightened around my elbow.
“And this is Ona.” Thais went over to stand next to a young woman about her age, with honey-marigold skin like her grandmother and black hair like her grandfather; her eyes were the color of chestnuts, flecked with amber and gold. She smiled bashfully at me.
“Hi Ona.” I reached out a hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ona said in a powdery voice, and she smiled over at Thais. “Thais hasn’t stopped talking about you since you two came here.”
I noticed Thais’ and Ona’s hands locked together between them.
“Nothing too embarrassing, I hope.”
“Oh, not at all,” Ona said, beaming.
“Thais has been telling us stories about your travels,” Edith spoke up. “And how you’ve been keeping her alive; you’re a good man”—she patted me on the shoulder—“how you risked your life to save her, and get her out of Sodom, and then Gomorrah.”
I assumed she was comparing Lexington and Paducah to the ancient biblical cities.
Thais smiled at me, released Ona’s hand and traded it for mine. “He did,” she said. “I would’ve been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for him.”
“To be fair,” I put in, “I can say the same.” I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it. I was uncomfortable with all the praise, especially when it had always been Thais doing most of the saving.
The same group of children that had run past me before, seemed to appear out of nowhere, smiling and laughing; sweat beaded on their foreheads and dirt-streaked faces; two tugged on the hem of Thais’ blouse.
“They’re startin’ the fire, Miss Thais! Hurry!” a young Black boy said.
“Are you comin’?” asked an even younger White girl.
Thais placed her hand atop the young boy’s head.
“I’ll be late tonight,” she told them. “But I’ll be there; I promise to meet you all by the fire.”
“And you’ll tell us a story?” asked a young Brown girl with pigtails on both sides of her head.
“Absolutely!” Thais replied with excitement.
Another Black girl, the youngest of the bunch, touched Thais’ wrist; she had big doe eyes with long, thick eyelashes that made her look like a doll.
“I want you to sing,” the girl said.
Thais knelt in front of her, took her tiny hands into hers, and with a thoughtful smile she asked, “And what would you like me to sing?”
