Shaking the Sugar Tree Part 23

"You expect me to ride a four-wheeler?"

"Against your religion or something?"

"I don't know how to drive them."

"What's to know? You hit the gas, you go forward. You hit the brake, you stop. What else is there?"

His face look worried.

"You're in Papa Wiley's hands now. Stop sobbing, city slicker."

Outside, I drove two of the three four-wheelers from the standing garage where Mama kept them. Jackson seemed highly skeptical.

"Little kids can drive these things," I said. "Man up!"

He practiced driving in the yard and discovered that it was so simple even a Yankee could do it.

It was pushing five when we finally set off, the four-wheelers loaded and ready to roll. I led the way across Mama's huge backyard to the trees and hills beyond and we were quickly swallowed by towering pines, oaks, and elms. We followed the path along the riverbank, heading deep into the woods where it was hotter, the air thick with humidity, and the undergrowth out of control.

Noah sat behind me, holding on to my waist. He kept an eye on Jackson to make sure he didn't have trouble or get lost.

We pa.s.sed two of the three swimming holes and finally emerged at a large bend in the river where the camping site was located. The far bank was high, like a small bluff. The near bank was clear and somewhat flat, a perfect place for pitching a tent and building a campfire. The river rolled strongly into the bend and suddenly pooled before slowly easing on its way downstream.

I got off and looked around with a broad grin on my face.

Noah and I spent a lot of time at this campsite during the summer. Sometimes my nephews came with us. Sometimes Bill. But usually it was just me and Noah.

The site was secluded, a long way from civilization, peaceful, quiet, calming. A breeze always followed the course of the river and swept by us and over us.

Standing there, the water flowing by peacefully, I felt happy.

"Let's go swimming," I said, sweating from the short drive. I peeled off my clothes and waded naked into the water. Noah stripped off his clothes and eagerly followed.

We turned, looked at Jackson.

The look on his face said he was a city boy who had never been skinny-dipping before and wasn't about to start now.

"Aren't there crocodiles in the water or something?" he asked.

"We don't have crocodiles down here," I said. "Alligators, though, that's another story. Got us some big-a.s.s gators. They don't usually bother you."

"I think I'll just watch."

He says he's going to just watch, I signed to Noah.

He smiled.

I smiled back.

We charged back to the sh.o.r.e and dragged him into the water with us, hooting and screaming and raising a ruckus.

34) Wild pigs

WE PUT PUT on shorts and sat in the sun afterward, drying off, enjoying the feel of Mother Nature beating down pleasantly on our bodies. We watched Noah, who played on a small sandbar at the edge of the water. He crawled around on his hands and knees, building a castle or a fortress, using smooth, flat rocks to scoop out battlements and whatnot. He was already a soft-brown color. on shorts and sat in the sun afterward, drying off, enjoying the feel of Mother Nature beating down pleasantly on our bodies. We watched Noah, who played on a small sandbar at the edge of the water. He crawled around on his hands and knees, building a castle or a fortress, using smooth, flat rocks to scoop out battlements and whatnot. He was already a soft-brown color.

"You can tell he has stunted growth," Jackson observed.

"A little bit," I said. "I like to bring him here, let him get some sun and water therapy. He'll spend all day playing in the water or playing on the sand, just goofing off. It seems to help him. Both of us, actually."

"It's nice," he said.

I retrieved the sunblock and went to Noah, applying a heavy dose to his shoulders, face, chest, and legs.

Are you hungry? I signed. I signed.

He shook his head, explaining that he was building a high-rise building like the one that Iron Man lived in.

I got him a juice and handed it to him, then watched as he played in his silent world, sc.r.a.ping sand, piling it up, digging trenches, building walls.

I'm going to work on my tan, I said. I said.

Okay.

Tell me if you get hungry.

Okay.

Drink your juice.

Leave me alone!

I went back to the camp, spread out a towel.

"Can you put some of this on me?" I asked Jackson, sitting in front of him and handing him the sunblock.

His hands on my shoulders felt tender. I closed my eyes.

"I could just spend my whole life out here," I said, breathing in the clean air, the sweet scent of the trees and river water.

"Aren't you afraid of snakes or bears?"

"Only when they bite."

"Are there bears out here?"

"Not that I know of. What you need to worry about are wild pigs."

"Pigs?"

"Vicious b.a.s.t.a.r.ds too," I said. "If you ever see one, just steer clear. They'll take your frikkin' leg off and make no mistake."

"Really?"

"That's what happened to my brother Jerry. He was out here fishing and fell asleep. A herd of wild pigs came along and that was that."

"Jesus, that's awful!"

"We found body parts all up and down the river. We found everything except his right hand."

"That's... that's awful. How old was he?"

"He was twelve."

"He was out here by himself and he was just twelve?"

"We heard him screaming. By the time me and my brother Billy got here, there was nothing but blood and body parts all over the place. It was a huge frikkin' mess."

He fell silent, pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"Oh my G.o.d," he whispered, horrified.

I let him stew in it for a bit.

"Do you believe everything you hear?" I asked. "You won't last long in the South if you do."

"Are you making this up?"

"That's what we do, Yankee boy. Poetic license and all that."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"You should have seen your face! I don't even have a brother named Jerry."

"I ought to kick your a.s.s."

"Might have to get a permission slip from your mama."

"You are so so going to pay for this." going to pay for this."

"Promises, promises."

"Are you lying about the wild pigs, too?"

"There's not that many of them. You'd have to go really deep into the forest. I've never seen any around here. If you do see one, stay away. That's the best advice. They might not take your leg off, but they will take a bite out of you. My friend Bo had just finished skinny-dipping when one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds came trotting out of the woods and bit his d.i.c.k clean off."

"Just bit it off? Just like that?"

"Yeah," I said. "Then that b.a.s.t.a.r.d pig put it on a stick and heated it over the campfire while Bo ran home and tried to explain it to his mama."

"So you're lying to me again?"

"It's a Southern tradition."

"Are there any crocs in the water?"

"I done told you there ain't no crocodiles around here."

"What's the difference?"

"Mostly the spelling," I said.

35) Fishing

WHEN THE THE sun began to go down, the air cooled off and shadows fell on the trees and the water. Sprayed liberally with mosquito repellent, Noah and I sat on the rocks at the far end of the river bend, holding fishing poles, waiting for bites, our lines thrown into the deep part of the pool at the base of the small bluff. sun began to go down, the air cooled off and shadows fell on the trees and the water. Sprayed liberally with mosquito repellent, Noah and I sat on the rocks at the far end of the river bend, holding fishing poles, waiting for bites, our lines thrown into the deep part of the pool at the base of the small bluff.

Jackson tended to the fire, wandered around the campsite collecting dried wood and fallen branches, making an orderly pile.

The radio was playing KUDZU. Jackson changed the channel and the Bee Gees floated our way, explaining that n.o.body gets "Too Much Heaven." I was just about to complain when Noah grunted and pulled on his pole.

"Hah!" he exclaimed, glancing over his shoulder at me, beaming.

I hurried over to him, made the sign for "nice and easy," watching him; ready to grab the pole if he needed me to.

"Hah!" he exclaimed again, grinning with pleasure.

His line swam across the water from one side to the next as the fish tried to get away.

Nice and easy, I signed.

"Has he got one?" Jackson called as he came running.

"It's a biggun," I said proudly.

"How can you tell?" Jackson asked.

"See how bent his pole is? d.a.m.n fish is going to pull it out of his hands if he keeps up."