Fertile Fields

I never knew Momma. From the stories I heard she wasn't much; poor white trash, dirty blond hair (the color, not hygiene), plain features, a bit on the short side. What there was of her looked tired and much older than her 19 years. There was an old newspaper photo of her, but it was lost due to age and handling.

Her Daddy was a mean old man who hated everyone. His wife grew tired of his mean, miserly ways and ran off with a trucker who happened to pass through town. Momma took most of his anger after that.

Momma used to work down at the diner; the same one her Momma ran off from, with the trucker. She was a shy young thing from the reports I heard. Her fear of men was to be expected after the poor treatment by her father.

There was a young fellow who came through town every so often; he was a traveling salesman. It took almost a year for him to get Momma's attention. It took even longer to get her to accompany him on a date. I heard they went to a movie, no one remembers which one.

Afterward they went to the lake to watch the sub races. He managed to get into her panties that night. The next day he was gone again. When he returned 5 months later Momma told him she was pregnant. He swore it was not his and called her a whore. Then he was gone again the next day.

She saw him again 3 months later; when she tried to talk to him her beat her badly and dumped her out along the Old Swamp Road in the dead of the night. He drove off that night and never returned to the area. He did not know that old Rupert saw him push her out.

Rupert was a share cropper. His shack was not much, but it was almost warm in the winter and dry all year round.

Rupert never went to school; his Mother taught him to read and do math and to plant a garden. He never knew his father. His mother died of the flu when he was 16. She had promised to tell him who his father was when he turned 18.

Even though they didn't own the land he, and his mother, never paid rent. They just paid the taxes each year. He never knew who owned the property. She didn't say.

Rupert knew better than to go after the authorities as he was coal black and the girl who was thrown out was a white as the snow. His only hope was to get Ms. Dolly who owned the diner to come over and take the girl to the clinic. The walk was over 6 miles; by the time they got back she had died. Lying on the bed between her legs was a tiny baby boy. He was very much alive.

Ms. Dolly and Rupert buried Momma out back behind the shack beside his mother. The next year she and Rupert planted a pink rose on her grave. His mother already had a bright red one. They both put out the most fragrant, beautiful flowers I have ever seen.

The rumor spread that Momma had left with the man. I stayed with Rupert.

Ms. Dolly made sure we had enough to eat. It sure was difficult to get Rupert to accept any kind of help. Many times she just put it on the ground and drove off knowing he wouldn't waste good food.

I was easy to hide for the first 8 years. His shack was about 300 feet off the road and there was a bend on the wooded lane to the house, which hid it.

For the first 6 years I was just Boy. There were no toys or the money to buy them. For birthdays I was allowed to select what we ate for dinner. On my sixth birthday he allowed me to pick my name. It was difficult to choose.

There was never any secret as to how I came to live with him. Each year on my birthday he would tell me the story until I was able to recite it back to him. Then each year I told it to him, he would gently correct anything left out or errors in my telling the story.

Every evening he read from the Bible to me. We always stopped when the light was too dim to read any further. We rose with the sun and went to bed when it went down. Candles and lanterns were for special times or if needed.

By the time I was five I was reading and doing simple math. By my sixth birthday his eyes were beginning to fail; so I took over the daily reading.

As was our custom we would start from the front and work to the back of the book and then repeat it. That evening I read the story of Joseph and how he was sold into slavery. I kept reading the story until he returned to his father and forgave his brothers.

"Rupert." I said "I want to be called Joseph. I think my story is sort of like his. Neither my Momma nor I were wanted. My Momma was out of the car hoping I would die with her. I am thankful that I have a different daddy instead of him. We both care for each other as if we were kin."

The next week I told him "I have decided to forgive my real father for the way he treated me and Momma." Rupert smiled.

I was close to my 8th birthday when the sheriff came down the lane and saw me. I took off at a trot into the woods. The sheriff asked who I was.

Rupert just simply replied that "...he was out one day and when he came back I was there."

When asked when that was he just replied "Been a while back. He comes in for meals every now and then. I taught him to read and write. He told me his name is Joseph, like the man in the Bible."

The sheriff came by often for a while but never saw me again.

Things were fine for a while except that Rupert was getting older and slower. I took care of him more than he took care of me. We still went into the fields every day to work. "Idle hands are the devils work" he told me.

To help with things I was working mornings at Ms Dolly's place. We used the money to fix the house up. I worked in the back doing the dishes and was learning to cook simple dishes. I walked the 2 miles to her place and she took me the rest of the way to work. After the noon rush she would drive me back home with a meal for Rupert. One day he did not return from the fields to softly chide Ms, Dolly for spoiling me by driving me home. I went looking for him and found him asleep under his favorite oak. I woke him and we walked back to eat. He seemed to be a little slower that day. After eating he decided to take a nap in his hammock out in the yard.

As I help him into the hammock he said "Always remember, I love you as if you were my own."

I told Him I loved him too. When I checked on him an hour later he was dead. He had known his time was near. I had wondered why he chose that day to tell me he loved me; it was understood by our actions and kind words with each other that it was true.

The sheriff went up or down the road 3 or 4 times a day; so I wrapped Rupert in a clean sheet and left him in the hammock for the time being. Then I walked out to wait for the sheriff to come by. Rupert had instructed me years ago in what to do when he died.

The look of surprise on the sheriff's face to see me standing at the end of the lane to flag him down was amusing, to say the least. For years he would get a short glimpse of me and I would melt into the woods and be gone. Now I was waiting for him and flagging him down.

I explained that Rupert had died and he needed to call the people that verify that; he wanted to be buried beside his mother. It took ¾ of an hour or better for the man in the black car to come out and examine him. "Yep, he's dead." was all he said. He wrote some information in a book and gave me a sheet of paper with some numbers on it.

"Take this to the court house next week and they will give you the paperwork that says he was examined and is dead.

Shortly after he left Ms Dolly came flying into the place, she had heard the call on the police radio. I had dug the grave by then and placed him in it. She had brought her preacher along with her; the man said a few prayers and we covered him with dirt. The next week she brought a white rose for me to plant on his grave. She said she chose white because "...he was a saint to have taken me in and raised me when no one else would have wanted me. He did a fine job; you are a wonderful young man.

The next week a young woman who looked to be only a few years older than me, came by from Children's Services. She asked all kinds of questions. I told her all the facts as Rupert had told me. She did the math and said "You need to come with me since you are still under 18 years old."

I had been instructed to never mention Ms. Dolly when explaining how I came to live there. So I simply told her "I will be 18 the next week."

"The law is quite clear that you can not be left alone until you are 18 or declared to be emancipated by the court."

I said "OH, look! There is a fox!

She turned to see it and when she turned back I was gone. The only thing she heard was "Come back and see me next Friday." It echoed from the woods.

I went the back way to Ms. Dolly's house. She understood my not working for the next week. I spent the week working in the garden and sleeping in the woods at various places. She stopped in a few times to try and catch me, I simply lay down in between the rows.

She was back the next Friday madder than a wet hen. I was just sitting down to lunch; I invited her to join me. She said the food was good and was surprised that I had cooked it all on the open fire pit in the back yard. She wanted to take me in to her office afterward.

I made sure she knew I was now 18. She smiled and said "I have to prove to the bosses that you exist and that you left me sitting there last week. If I can't I might loose my job."

I agreed to go but they had to meet me outside. I talked to the old woman who was giving her so much trouble about losing me. We sat at a picnic table in the courtyard of the building. Most of their questions were answered to their satisfaction when I said "Is that a bald eagle flying over there?"

They all looked where I pointed. When they turned back I was on the other side of the courtyard. As I returned I said "I could be halfway out of town by now. If I get to the woods you might never see me."

The sheriff came around the corner just then; "You are certainly a remarkable young man. No wonder I never caught you for over 10 years." He was laughing.

"The only time you almost caught me was the last time you got a new car. I can tell the sound of your cars half a mile away."

"Maybe I should have snuck up on foot?"

"No use, I can smell that cigar even further than hearing your car."

We shook hands.

Miss Melody Matthews drove me home that afternoon. I fixed another meal that couldn't be beat. Afterward we sat and talked for a while; and then I took her for a tour of the farm.

"How do you keep everything so clean and simple here?"

"When you learn from childhood how to live this way it is easy. I don't know anything else."

I heard her sigh that "It would be nice to live like this."

"You are welcome to visit for a while."

She blushed.

Over the next months she became a more frequent visitor to the farm; some evenings she slept over in my bed while I slept in Rupert's bed. One night there was a terrible thunderstorm, the winds were high and the old house shook and creaked. I woke to feel her shaking my arm "How can you sleep through that storm; I'm scared to death by it." She sat down on the bed and we talked for a bit; she never let go of my arm.

The next morning found us holding each other. I woke first and was surprised to see her laying there.

I lay there watching her sleep, amazed at just how pretty and innocent she appeared. Soon she stretched and opened her eyes. The confusion on her face made me laugh. I reminded her of the storm during the night. She frowned.

"I slept so well with you holding me. I don't think I have ever slept better. I felt so secure and loved." She smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

From that night on we slept together in my bed. It took us months before we did much more than hold hands. It was all so slow. We savored each change. The first time the back of my hand accidentally brushed against her breast she inhaled deeply and shuddered. A week later she took my hand and held it there.

Rupert had no experience with sex and had not done more than to tell me men and women were different. When I asked he shrugged his shoulders and said "...don't really know, just different. I was immediately sorry to have embarrassed him like that.

I knew women had breasts that were used to feed their young like any other animal. What I didn't know was what I could do with them to make a woman happy. I also knew about how some animals mated. Somehow I realized that biting a woman's neck and trying to mount her like cats did was not appropriate. Most of the animals made it look like it was a duty to mate with the females. That did not seem right either.

Slowly we explored how things made us feel. I took note in my mind about what seemed to make her feel good. Finally we made love one night. There was a lot of fumbling and confusion, but the sensations just got better and better. Afterward I stayed awake most of the night thinking about all the wonderful feelings involved. I loved the warm, wet tightness that held me in her. Then there was the point where my head felt like it was spinning. I thought I would pass out with the sensations just before my penis slowly began to shrink and slipped out of her. I did not understand why it did that; the confusion was incredible. There were too many things to think about at the same time.

The next morning she woke first. I opened my eyes to see the biggest smile yet on her face. "Last night was so good, thank you for being so gentle. Did you know it was my first time?"

I replied "Me too. What happened?"

It took a while before Melody stopped laughing. "We made love!"

"Like animals mating? It sure felt good. No wonder they want to do it."

After the next round of laughter and even more huge smiles she said "Yes, just like that. You are a wonderful, gentle man and I love what we did."

We spent many evenings trying different things, except for the time she told me she was in season. Four months later she did not come into season as she did every month. I asked her if there was anything wrong. The tears in her eyes and the message she spoke confused me.

"Nothing is wrong. If my guess is correct, we will be having a baby in 8 or 9 months."

I had never been to a doctor before. She insisted that I go with her to see the doctor. I could not let her see me scared to go so I did my best to hide it. She saw right through my efforts.

There were forms to fill out; I did not know the answers for many of their questions. The one that bothered me the most was when that asked my name. I proudly answered "Joseph."

"Well, what is the rest, Joseph what?"

"Just Joseph; there is no more. Rupert let me choose my name for my sixth birthday. He didn't ask for any more."

"What was your mother's name?"

"I was told it was Sandra Welsh."

The room went silent.

"I was raised by Rupert....Rupert Johnson. My mother died the day I was born; she is buried out back of the house beside Rupert and his mother."

Still there was silence.

Melody said "You did not include that information in your other interview."

"You didn't ask those questions."

She thought about it "You're right those questions are not on the forms."

"I might have known it was you." I didn't need to turn to know it was the sheriff. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Melody looked at him; before I could speak she asked "Did you ask him those questions? Neither did we."

The clinic and the sheriff took turns getting information out of me. Soon everyone knew the full story, except for Ms. Dolly's involvement.

"Why didn't Rupert involve the Department when he found the girl?"

"He said he tried to help. Momma died before he got back with someone to help."

"Who might that be?"

"I was too little to know."

I was told I needed to have a full name. I chose Joseph Johnson Welsh.

There was a criminal investigation into Momma's death. Eventually they found my father; he was tired of looking over his shoulder. Eventually when confronted with the evidence that I was his son he confessed to beating her up and pushing her out of the car on that road.

The folks at the court house managed to get him sentenced to 4 years in a work camp. The day he was sentenced I told him "I forgave you years ago." I turned and walked away. We never saw each other again; he died of cancer just before his release date.

The folks who ran the camp forwarded a letter he wrote to me thanking me for forgiving him and saying he was sorry for what he did. He was proud to have a son like me.

By the time he died Melody and I were expecting our third child, actually third and fourth.

My real grandfather had died the year before. He never wanted to meet the bastard, as he called me. He was so senile when he found out about me that he was unable to write the will he wanted that would exclude me from inheriting anything. His brother and brother's sons wanted his farm really badly. I sold it to them for a lot less than the value. We used the money to build a new house in front of Rupert's old shack. The rest we put into the bank.

Melody did some investigating and found out that our property was owned by a man who had died 30 years ago. His family did not know about the lot. It cost us $250 to file the forms requesting the land to be awarded to my by adverse possession. The law required that we use the land openly, without permission, and pay the taxes on it for a period of 20 years. I had to dig through a lot of old papers, but I found the letter written by Rupert and witnessed by Ms. Dolly and her cook that said "I, Rupert Johnson leave all my worldly possessions to Joseph, the son of Sandra Welsh. He has been a joy to me in my later years and a faithful son, even if he is not of my blood."

The sheriff testified that this was all true. Less than 3 months later I was a land owner.

I still worked for Ms. Dolly at the restaurant, I was now her assistant. I could cook, serve and order the needed supplies. She was teaching me how to keep track of the money coming in and going out. She was getting too old to run the place on her own. The staff was like family and accepted her wishes.

Melody still worked for Children's Services, she was the assistant supervisor. She could have been a supervisor somewhere else; she turned down all the offers.

We had a special area in the office at the restaurant where our children played and learned their lessons. They all did simple math and read by the time they went to school. Ms. Dolly was their unofficial grandmother and loved being in their lives. She was their real God Mother, all the people who worked for us were aunts or uncles. What a joy to be part of a large family like this.

We had eight children in total, in birth order we had: Rupert, Matthew, Mark, Sally, Luke, Mary, John and little Dolly. Neither Melody nor I were interested in having a child named after us. We are trying to have at least one more; the joy is still there each time we try.

Ms. Dolly lived to be 93 years old; she is buried next to my Momma in the little plot behind the house as she requested. We put a Lilac bush above her grave and the children all put daffodils on all the graves to bloom in the spring.

The children all know the stories of my life and are able to repeat them correctly.

I inherited all of Ms. Dolly's belongings when she died. The biggest surprise was the letter presented to me that she wrote when she was 70. Like Rupert said I was "...the biggest joy in her life." She loved me as only a mother can, and it showed in her every action with me. She had been married early in life, only to find out that she could never have children. Her husband took to the bottle and drowned trying to swim across a lake to get to another woman that he was carrying on with. She allowed the other woman to bury him. The sheriff was his son.

Melody, the children and I still take care of the gardens as Rupert showed me to do. Eventually a hurricane dropped the old shack to the ground. Melody cried when it fell, I couldn't let her see me do that. I went for a run in the woods, just a little slower than when I was a child.