I shook it. “Good to meet you”—I glanced at Thais, saw how clean and healthy and unharmed and happy she was, and I squeezed Ossie’s hand tighter, shook it more firmly—“Thank you, sir. I owe you a debt I doubt I’ll ever be able to repay, but I’ll do whatever I can. Thank you.”
“Oh, you owe no debt to me, sir,” Ossie said, and the handshake broke. “Only debt you should repay is to the Lord. I just do what He tells me to do.”
“Well, just the same,” I said, avoiding talk of ‘the Lord’, “I’m still willing to help out with anything—just ask.”
Thais beamed up at me, and her arm tightened around my elbow.
“And this is Ona.” Thais went over to stand next to a young woman about her age, with honey-marigold skin like her grandmother and black hair like her grandfather; her eyes were the color of chestnuts, flecked with amber and gold. She smiled bashfully at me.
“Hi Ona.” I reached out a hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ona said in a powdery voice, and she smiled over at Thais. “Thais hasn’t stopped talking about you since you two came here.”
I noticed Thais’ and Ona’s hands locked together between them.
“Nothing too embarrassing, I hope.”
“Oh, not at all,” Ona said, beaming.
“Thais has been telling us stories about your travels,” Edith spoke up. “And how you’ve been keeping her alive; you’re a good man”—she patted me on the shoulder—“how you risked your life to save her, and get her out of Sodom, and then Gomorrah.”
I assumed she was comparing Lexington and Paducah to the ancient biblical cities.
Thais smiled at me, released Ona’s hand and traded it for mine. “He did,” she said. “I would’ve been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for him.”
“To be fair,” I put in, “I can say the same.” I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it. I was uncomfortable with all the praise, especially when it had always been Thais doing most of the saving.
The same group of children that had run past me before, seemed to appear out of nowhere, smiling and laughing; sweat beaded on their foreheads and dirt-streaked faces; two tugged on the hem of Thais’ blouse.
“They’re startin’ the fire, Miss Thais! Hurry!” a young Black boy said.
“Are you comin’?” asked an even younger White girl.
Thais placed her hand atop the young boy’s head.
“I’ll be late tonight,” she told them. “But I’ll be there; I promise to meet you all by the fire.”
“And you’ll tell us a story?” asked a young Brown girl with pigtails on both sides of her head.
“Absolutely!” Thais replied with excitement.
Another Black girl, the youngest of the bunch, touched Thais’ wrist; she had big doe eyes with long, thick eyelashes that made her look like a doll.
“I want you to sing,” the girl said.
Thais knelt in front of her, took her tiny hands into hers, and with a thoughtful smile she asked, “And what would you like me to sing?”
The girl’s cherub face lit up.
“Alli-Loo-Yah,” she said in her childlike voice.
Thais nodded solidly. “Then Hallelujah it is!”
The children cheered, gathered around her, and hugged her from every angle. Then they took off running again, the boys chasing the girls, their laughter filled the air and then was gone. I thought she would make a wonderful mother someday…I shook that thought out of my head quickly.
Edith curled her hand around Ossie’s elbow. “Come help me get the food ready,” she insisted, tugging on his arm. “I’m sure Thais would like a moment with the young man.”
“All right, all right,” Ossie said; he winked at Thais, and then followed Edith away from the lake.
“I’ll see you later,” Ona told Thais then.
They embraced, and Ona left Thais and me alone.
She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed me.
“So, what happened while I was out?” I asked.
“Oh, Atticus,” she said with dramatic exasperation. “These people are absolutely wonderful.” She took me by the elbow and walked with me to a dock sitting on the lake. Everybody watched us as we went past, smiled at Thais, nodded at Thais, waved at Thais. And she acknowledged each one of them in kind.
We sat down on the dock; I laid the crutches beside me.
“They seem to like you,” I noted.
“Well, it’s not just me,” she explained, “or anything I’ve done—they love just about everybody.” She paused and looked out at the water thoughtfully, and then turned back. “They’re wonderful, Atticus. The second I saw Ossie standing over me in that field, I knew he was good. I trusted him like I trusted my father, before he even spoke to me. I trusted him with my life, and yours.” She waved a hand out in front of her, signifying everyone else in the camp. “These people are proof that there really is good still left in the world, to believe in, and to fight for. We’re not alone.” She smiled.
I reached for her hand.
“You look beautiful,” I told her, noting her freshly-washed hair, cascading in chocolate waves against her back; not a trace of dirt or blood she had acquired on our long journey was left anywhere on her young, tender skin; she wore a short-sleeve blouse with a flowered knit pattern and with eight tiny pearl-like buttons down the center, and a pair of navy cotton pants that fit snugly to her ankles, and a pair of flat-soled navy dress shoes. She smelled of coconut and honey.
“Well, now that you’re awake,” she said, “you can get cleaned up, too.”
“I will,” I said with a nod. “But that can wait.”
I took her into my arms again, her back pressed to my chest, and I held her there like that, looking out at the sunlight slowly fading atop the glittering water.
After a moment, Thais said, “They’re going to escort us the rest of the way to Shreveport.” She turned around to face me. “Strength in numbers. We can’t go any farther alone. No matter how strong either of us are, we can’t make it there by ourselves.”
I nodded. “No. We can’t.” I hated it that I alone wasn’t enough, that I needed help from anyone to save Thais. But I wasn’t too proud to admit it, either. “And I trust them,” I said at last. “I don’t know them, I’ve spent less than thirty minutes awake with them, but I trust them.” I sighed, glanced at our hands locked between us. “And it’s such a long way. I guess I have no choice but to trust them.”
Thais smiled, and I caught something mysterious in it. I looked at her curiously.
“That’s what I was going to tell you next,” she said. “Shreveport’s not a long way at all. I mean, if we were driving we’d probably make it in less than an hour.”
I blinked, surprised.
“How do you know?”
“Ona and Ossie told me,” she began. “We’re already in Louisiana, Atticus. We’re only a few hours away from Shreveport, on foot.”
I could hear my heartbeat thrumming in my ears. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then we should go now,” I said. “What are we waiting for?”