POSSUMNECK, Mississippi

© 2012 Danna Shirley

            Here she was in rural Mississippi almost out of gas and didn’t know how to get back to civilization. The sign caught her by surprise and she had to chuckle. Now what kind of place is Possumneck? Should she follow the sign and hope for a service station or make a U-turn and be glad to escape with her life? But what if she got stranded on the side of the road? It was almost dusk and that would be worse. She had seen the movie Deliverance—once! She decided to move forward. Surely the residents of Possumneck bought gas, too.

            The weather was pleasant for late summer and her convertible drive was beautiful. Green grass, tall trees, clear skies. Not at all like the smoggy, cement and steel landscape where she lived. Lilly had decided long ago that her vacations would be away from the city. She would seek out a country setting, rent a car, and just drive. But Possumneck? Well, she’d been pleased and surprised before on these adventures.

            She slowed her pace and just took in the scenery; a field of black cows grazing to her right, ponds dotted here and there with the locals fishing and waving as she drove by. Squirrels and possum; they seemed to be fearless crossing the road. It was very flat country; nothing over the next hill, it was always around the next bend.

And the trees! Oh, the trees were beautiful. Lilly liked visiting the trees most of all. Their appearance could be tall and striking, pine or oak, scrub, or covered in kudzu. Even though she’d heard kudzu was a nuisance and could ruin a landscape or a crop, she found it as beautiful as ivy ornamenting a monastery wall.

            Not too many cars drove by leaving Possumneck but each one that did raised a finger or waved a greeting as they passed. At first she thought, Do I know them? Surely not! Then she realized this was the south, these were country people, friendly, welcoming; utterly refreshing from the cold, calculating, and stony city where she lived.

Around the next bend came her first glimpse of Possumneck. It was only a mile long and yes, there was a gas station, as well as a grocery, a bank, a Feed & Seed, and a donut shop. She pulled in and turned off the ignition. Two barefoot boys in short-pant overalls greeted her chomping on a big wad of Double Bubble.

            “Hey, lady,” one asked, “yer not from ’round here, are ya?”

            Well, she’d heard that one before. “No, I’m just visiting. Do you know where I can get a bite to eat?”

            “Sure, lady,” the other answered. “We gotta Wendy’s,” he said proudly.

            “I was thinking more of a nice sit-down restaurant. Do you have one of those?”

            They both looked puzzled. Maybe they had never eaten in one before.

            “Well, ya can come home with us. We gotta nice sit-down table and mom’s a good cook. She likes havin’ comp'ny.”

            “How sweet but I couldn’t impose on your family time.”

            One of the boys opened the gas door and began pumping. “It’ll be okay—we bring strays home all the time.”

            Lilly smiled and wondered if they’d ever brought home a human stray before. “What are your names?”
            “I’m Lucius, Luke for short” said the boy pumping gas, “and that there’s Hubbard, Hub for short. I’m the oldest,” he said proudly.

            “Yeah,” said Hub. “But I’m not the baby! We gotta baby sister at home.”

            “What’s her name?”

            “She’s Henrietta, but we call her Etta for short—not Henry.”

            With the gas pumped and paid for we headed the car through town. Trusting little souls. I guess life is safer in the country. About a mile later the boys directed me to a left turn on a gravel road through a canopy of trees. I saw nothing until we exited into a plantation setting. The property was like a beautiful postcard; gently rolling pastures filled with cows, a barn, a lake, wildlife everywhere, deer, turkeys. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We pulled up to the front door of a huge, almost resort-like log cabin.

            The boys jumped out and ran inside leaving me to wonder what I should do next. In short order their mother stood on the porch wiping her hands on an apron. “Hello,” she smiled. “Come on in. I’m Mae and you got here just in time for dinner.”

            “I’m Lilly,” I replied. Now I really felt out of place. Everyone was so friendly and I felt like an intruder on this perfect setting. I hesitated until Mae came off the porch and led me inside. The cabin was picture perfect, as well. Rustic high beams, a huge mantel over the fireplace at one end of a large living area, lots of country adornment; quilt wall hangings, afghans thrown over antique rockers, oil paintings, deer heads, mounted fish, comfortable leather couches and recliners. They must entertain a good deal, I thought, to need all of this room.

Then my thoughts gravitated to the kitchen as the smells stirred my senses. Mae led me to a large country table with benches on one side and high-back chairs on the other. I could tell it was very old from the wear and smoothness of serving meals to generations of family and friends. And that’s how I felt, already a friend.

“This must be Etta,” I exclaimed as I stroked the blond head of a little girl in a highchair and sat down next to her. I had been in awe since entering the cabin and had lost the conversation Mae had been streaming at me. I finally focused and answered her. “Yes, I’m just driving around your beautiful country enjoying some leisure time away from my job.”

“Well, I’m glad the boys found you. We love havin’ comp’ny. My brother’s been helping take care of the place. He’ll be here soon. Would you like to help cut up some tomatoes and onions for the salad?”

“I’m not much of a cook,” I offered, “but I can do that.” She placed a big bowl of lettuce in front of me with a cutting board and a knife for the other ingredients. I wasn’t very fast but I was getting the job done when I heard footsteps on the porch. A tall, handsome man entered speaking the beginning of a question.

“Whose car is that out . . .” He stopped abruptly as he spied me at the table.

Mae intervened with introductions. “This is my brother, Al. Al, this is Lilly. She’ll be with us for dinner.”

“Great!” he smiled, and sat down across from me. “Here, let me help you with that.” He picked up a knife and began slicing, never taking his electric blue eyes off of me.

I smiled back. Possumneck, Mississippi . . . what a wide, wonderful place you are. 

Short story for Creative Writing Class, Bartlett Senior Center, Bartlett, TN