The Road by Stephen Hollen

Life had changed him, death stopped by an' robbed him of a Daddy, Mama.

Stole away his family, his kin.  

Jimmie walked numb through his mournin', the funerals, handshakes, hugs an' prayers.  Hands reachin' out to him just never could reach through the fog to pull him back into livin'.

He was almost ready to leave home, seek his life on his own. Never made it after the funeral. 

Jimmie was beginnin' to up the anchors in his life. Plannin' on movin' away to college, start his life as a growed up man. He drifted away from that house deep in the holler. It weren't too far outside of Beloved, Kentucky.  There was an ol' shack he took up residence in. Wanted to experience life on his own that summer.

He still had a summer job at the Carnegie Library. Worked part time, read part time. Was enjoyin' life an' bein' on his own.

That's where Gib Gilbert, the deputy sheriff found him Found him isttin' between the stacks, readin' a book he was supposed to be shelvin'.

That's the day his folks slid into a guardrail to avoid that deer.  Their truck tumbled down a ravine an' eventually settled on its side more than 300 feet below.  Their horn cried long an' loud until Uncle Billy Gilbert drove by, windows down.  The smashed rail an' braying horn caused him to stop.  All Uncle Billy could do is cry. Cry an' pray when he got to the bottom of the ravine.  It was too late to do anything more.

After the funerals, Jimmie sat for days in that home his folks had brought to life with harmony, smiles an' the joinery, the dovetails of heart, hearth an' table that makes a mountain home.  

He looked into a ashy hearth without seein'.  He walked the halls, stood on the big wrap around porch without feelin'.  Once he rose for a bit from the hurt when he heard the creak of the porch swing.  His head turned to look before cruel reality reminded his conscious mind it was only the wind.

No one called from the library to remind him he needed to come to work.  Neighbors had been kind, had brought a mountain of food to show their love before the funeral.  Now they all seemed to have forgotten him, deserted him.  

Truth of the matter was they didn't want to be a bother as he mourned

Jimmie needed them to bother. Needed someone to bother.

This went on for two weeks.  The only person that realized anythin' was wrong was a little bitty ol' feller that was the last person folks would imagine would offer help.  He was short, skinny an' of no social consequence.  He didn't bathe often. He often told folks he was H2O intolerant.  His name was Peanut Chappell. Peanut was distant cousin to Jimmie an' his family.  The longest conversation Jimmie had ever had with Peanut was over the quality of the moonshine that ol' Bert made over to Double Creek, near Peabody.

Jimmie might have thought it odd if he had not sunk so low, had not been so far from living as he was, when Peanut stopped by in his Daddy's old International truck.

"Jimmie, I hate to bother you, but I really need someone to help me.  I got me a real problem an' I can't find anyone else who could help solve it."

Peanut had to beg an' cajole Jimmie for over half an hour.  Finally Jimmie agreed to help. Mostly, he wanted to get shet of Peanut. 

He sat an' looked at nothin' as the truck rumbled down a road he didn't recognize.

After nearly twenty minutes they stopped. Peanut told him they was "there".  

They both got out. Peanut told Jimmie to have a seat on a big log that had fallen on the side of the road.  Road was actually an exaggeration.  This was little more than a growed up path to nowhere.  

Jimmie didn't notice.

"Jimmie, here is how it is.  You are worthless right now.  You are in some kind of way an' no one is doin' a thing about it.  Specially you.  Do you think your Mama would like what she sees?  Shucks man, you haven't even had a bath in days.  I know!  I am an expert in that area of stink.  You need a good kick in the pants. That's what your Daddy would say an' I am givin' that kick to ya.  I'm leavin' an' you are not comin' with me.  You can sit here on your sorry ol' tail an' die if you want.  Or you can get up an' walk home.  Take time to think as you walk, ol' boy.  I got you about 15 miles from anyone, so you're on your own"

"Live or die. Up to you, ol' son."

As he spoke those words, Peanut became more than he ever was before, or after in his life.  The good Lord must have laid this on his heart, for he never had a moment like that again.

After Peanut drove off, Jimmie sat there for a while in the same funk as before.  Then he got mad.  He got plain ol' ticked off.  How dare Peanut Chappell preach to him.  Peanut Chappell of all people. How dare him leave like that!  

Hey now, how dare Peanut leave without a bit of food all this way out in the sticks.

Then he noticed the brown bag a'layin' by him.  Inside was half dozen biscuits, a couple small tomatoes, some sliced ham in one of them baggies an' a peach.  

A note was scrawled on the bag, "love you man." written in Peanut's simple handwritin'.

Jimmie got up an' began walkin' pretty slow.  He just had to follow the road back.  It wasn't really hard goin', just tedious.  He carried the bag in his left hand. Didn't think at all as he walked.

Since Peanut picked him up late in the day, Jimmie ended up spendin' a uncomfortable night in the holler, cold an' alone.  He was already feelin' that way inside. Was easy to feel that way outside.

In the mornin', he ate more of the food Peanut left then sat for a while, wonderin' what in the world Peanut thought this would accomplish.

He walked till about 10:00. When he walked around a bend in the road, he saw an old board with words painted in white paint.

 'This a way Jimmie".  

The sign pointed up a dry branch.  He figured Peanut had a shortcut so he obediently followed.

At the top of the hill was another sign; "See what God had wrought.  It's all in His plan".

Jimmie looked out over the hills an' hollers that were home to all his family for nearly 200 years.  He saw his town of Beloved, the Carnegie Library, cars an' trucks movin' along the roads below.  

Some were leavin' town an' some was comin' into town.

Across the mountain, an' up a hill he saw the little church where his family worshiped... Where his Mama and Daddy was buried.  He could see the mounds of bright colored flowers still heaped on the raw earth of their graves.  Tears stung his eyes as he looked over the hills of home to that place where they lay.

Why would Peanut do this to him?  Why?

He read the sign again, "See what God had wrought.  It's all in His plan.".

Y'all don't need to know all Jimmie said, the rants, the curse he threw at the hills, at God, at his Daddy for worryin' more about a deer than his own family.  He cursed the day he was born, the day that the deer was born, he cursed one an' all without prejudice.

Then he sat, he slept finally and woke during the long night. 

It was warm right there that night, almost comfortable. Almost like he was meant to be there.  

He saw the lights of little cabins snuggled up to the base of the hills, worn down hard by God an' the weather years ago.  He felt worn down like the hills.  As he watched, the lights went out in home after home till only a few 'lectric mercury lights on 'lectric poles lit the little village of Beloved, Kentucky.

Jimmie didn't sleep.  He sat. Sat an' watched as the world slept.  He searched his heart. Wondered about a plan that allowed his folks to die.

The next morning he rose, turned to go, only to find himself facing an overgrown cemetery.  He walked inside the gate. He wandered through the stones.  Dozens of pioneer families was buried there, many with only sandstone markers on their graves.  He read the names, the dates, the simple expressions of love.

He came to one stone that was different.  In the midst of all the graves was one small stone that said simply, "Lucinda, Beloved by me"

Peanut had walked quietly up behind him.  "That is why our hometown is named Beloved.  A man named Felix came here, had the meadow that's now our town surveyed for a farm.  He meant for his wife to see it. It was for her.  He got her here, this far an' she fell, was hurt bad. She died in his arms right here.  She saw that place, just never got there.  She said to him, 'what a beloved place'.  That's what he called it.  He built other cabins an' when a few folks stopped, he invited them to stay.  He could have just sat up here an' died too.  He didn't though, he went on down the road."

They sat for a while till Peanut spoke again, "I cain't figure it out, Jimmie.  I have studied on it a good bit, I don't have no kind of answers for ye. shucks, I don't have no answers for my life's mysteries.  I reckon this was sort of silly  I just know you gotta get on down the road now.  I'll take you home, lets go."

Jimmie looked at him for a moment. He thanked Peanut for the offer, then told him he thought needed to walk the rest of the way.

Peanut nodded. He'd walked to that place where Jimmie sat through the night.

"Iff'n you don't mind, Jimmie, I'll walk it with you."

Jimmie told him he didn't mind.

Then, that's what Jimmie did.  He just walked on down the road toward his home.

copyright Stephen Hollen  7/15/2007

If you want more info about Stephen Hollen Storyteller, contact him at stephen@stephenhollen.com