Beneath the Cleansing Flood

FICTION Beneath the Cleansing Flood William E. Ellis "Hold it straight, Jenny Marie," her grandmother said. "Momaw'll notice if we get this seam crooked. It'll be the first thing she'll see when she comes in the door." Eva Elizabeth paused and glanced at her granddaughter, who had dropped her arms to her side. "You feeling OK, honey? Is the baby thumping again?" "Naw, he's quiet now," twenty-year-old Jenny Marie said, rubbing her protruding stomach. "One more month and he'll be here." "It's gonna be a girl," Eva Elizabeth said. "I just know it." "The ultra-sound said it's gonna be a boy, Grandmother." "She could've had her tiny little finger between her legs," Eva Elizabeth said with a smile. "Now don't talk dirty," Jenny Marie said, laughing. "Huh. Doctors don't know everything. Besides you're carrying the baby down low where girls always lay by this time." Eva Elizabeth paused after brushing on the piece of wallpaper. She stepped back a few feet and looked at the seam to be sure that it was straight. "If it's a girl, name her Grace Anna. Grace Anna would be a pretty name for a little baby girl." Jenny Marie said nothing, then dipped the brush into a bucket of paste. She bent over the table and spread paste on the piece of wallpaper her grandmother had just finished measuring and cutting. Then she straightened her back and rubbed it vigorously with both hands. "Why does Momaw always come back here after the flood? She could live with you in town or with me and Tommy in the trailer until the baby comes. This musty old house is gonna be the death of her." "Leaving would be the death of her, Jenny Marie. She ain't talked about nothing else but coming back here since the river came up a month ago. I told her we'd have to clean out the place and wallpaper the parlor, and that the water was higher than it was in '55. But she loves this old house and the pump organ upstairs. By the way, three William Ellis is a professor at Eastern Kentucky University and afreelance writer. This is hisfirst appearance in Appalachian Heritage. 36 deacons from the church said they're coming to carry it back down here to the parlor later this afternoon." "Grandmother, houses don't even have parlors anymore. They have dens and family rooms." "Jenny Marie, honey, I had my first date sitting in this parlor and if Momaw wants to call it a parlor, then a parlor it's gonna be. After checking the seams of the wallpaper when she comes in the door, Momaw'll walk straight to the organ and strike up an old hymn, something you don't hear on Sunday morning much anymore." Jenny Marie smiled for a moment thinking about her plucky eighty-seven-year-old grandmother, Momaw Tucker. Then her shoulders shook. "Why did Momma have to die?" she asked, choking back tears as she sank into an old wooden rocker. "Grace Anna almost made it," Eva Elizabeth said as she stroked her granddaughter's hair. "She lived almost four years after the surgery and the radiation. And she got to see you graduate from high school and get married." "But she'll never see her grandson. It's not fair. It's just not fair." She cried softly. "Life's not always fair," Eva Elizabeth said. "Like Momaw always says, 'There's lots of lumps and bumps along the way/ You've just got to keep your chin up and trust in the Lord." Jenny Marie said nothing. Her grandmother walked back to the wallpapering table. Jenny Marie rose slowly from the chair, pushing with her right arm and holding her back with her left. After straightening up, she rubbed her back with both hands. She moved to the wall and placed her hands on the slippery wallpaper. "Keep the seam straight, Jenny Marie. Momaw'll notice it right away." Eva Elizabeth paused for a moment. "Popaw Tucker's buried up on the hill. I was almost four when...