Hillbilly Heaven

By Lisa Clemons

Set in Blytheville, Arkansas, eight-year-old Sara Michelle struggles to come to terms with her parents' separation while spending an adventurous summer in her Mema's house. Hillbilly Heaven is a story that will take you back to a time when life was simple and family was close. For everyone who's ever had a "Mema," this story will touch your heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644623251

Book preview

Chapter One

June 7, 1979, Thursday

My uncle was alerted to my presence the moment I stumbled over the tree root sticking out of the ground. He turned around and stopped.

What are you doing here? He demanded to know.

I dropped my head and clasped my hands behind my back. I followed you, I replied.

He kicked the dirt and murmured to himself. My cousin Billy stood there in a defiant stance, arms crossed. His glare made it clear that he did not want me hanging out with them. I stood still and stared back at them. Now that they were alerted to my presence, if they left me here alone, I would tell on them.

My uncle glared at me and said through gritted teeth, You can come, but I ain’t buying you nothing.

I didn’t argue. I already knew the score; once again, if he bought cousin Billy ice cream and not me, I would tell Mema. I overheard them planning on walking to Fred’s for ice cream, so I did what any eight-year-old girl would do—I followed them. It was a straight shot through the woods, but there was enough greenery to provide me ample coverage. I was doing well until I tripped. I didn’t want to make an appearance until we had reached the parking lot, less time to deal with their animosity. I spotted the store in the distance between the leaves blowing in the soft breeze. It was the only place in town where you could buy everything from fishing lures to pantyhose. The town was small but Fred’s was big; grocery store, department store and hardware store all rolled into one. My aunt Lily was a cashier, but she had today off; too bad, I could’ve used her influence to get my ice cream.

We ambled across the parking lot, which was twice the size as the store. The cold blast of air-conditioning hit me full force as we walked in. I followed them to the freezer section. I listened to them describe in detail all the many varieties of ice cream that were available; vanilla cups with sprinkles and hard chocolate bars. I knew they were trying to bait me, but I’d played this game before. They seemed to forget that in this hillbilly one-store town our mema knew everybody. It wouldn’t be good for her to hear from a neighbor or a stock boy how her youngest son made his sweet little niece cry, in public, no less. I could already feel the hot tears prickling my eyelids.

They opened the freezer door, hemming and hawing over their difficult decision.

I hung back but cousin Billy swung around and smirked at me. Too bad you don’t have any money.

I ignored him and stared at Uncle Randy. I was his only niece, six years younger than him; our birthdays were one day apart. I knew he secretly liked me, but my rotten cousin Billy was jealous. He was one year younger than me and he tried to justify the age thing by including himself in everything involving Uncle Randy and excluding me, too bad he was dumber than me.

I stuck out my lower lip and pouted. Aren’t you gonna buy me an ice cream?

Billy glared at me. He didn’t invite you. You don’t get nothing.

My lower lip trembled.

Cry, nobody cares, Billy spouted out.

Randy put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. Come on, leave her alone. He pointed to the freezer. One bar, we’ll meet you up front. Then he turned to leave and I ran over and got myself a strawberry shortcake bar.

I skipped up to the register, smiling the whole way.

Chapter Two

Getting back home was quick. Once I finished my ice cream, I took off at a run; I didn’t need them anymore. I ran into the house, the screen door slamming shut behind me.

Mema, I yelled, where are you?

She walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. Good lord, child, have you been out rolling in the dirt? Go wash up. She followed me to the kitchen sink.

Is Momma still at work? I asked as I scrubbed.

She’ll be home by dinnertime.

I reached for a paper towel. Can I go to the park, please?

I reckon so.

I tossed my towel, ran over and kissed her. Thanks Mema, love you. I ran for the front door. I didn’t want to give her time to ask if I’d seen Billy or Randy. I jumped off the front steps and ran to the end of our street before I looked back. They had emerged from the woods. I turned around and walked through the black wrought-iron gate.

Where our street ended, the park began. Crossing the threshold led to the biggest park I’d ever seen. A road wound through it in a circular pattern, but you could exit off our street or the one on the opposite side. A charcoal colored metal train was situated in the middle of the circle, embedded into the ground; it was for exploring and climbing on. Another train wound around the park, but it charged you for a ride. There was a community pool near our gate, which only operated in the summer months, another luxury that would cost you. The park also consisted of several playgrounds placed strategically around the grounds. The park wouldn’t be complete without an old-fashioned fishing pond. I caught my first fish there; Uncle Randy took me when I first arrived here. I was a park regular, allowed free reign except for the pool, that required adult supervision, which only happened when my aunts were bored or hot.

The park was my escape. I could be a tomboy, do all the things that got little boys dirty. I always had to check in though or Mema would send out the cavalry. I would run home, gulp down some iced tea, scrounge up a snack and appease Mema’s state of mind. Most folks done escaped this simple life; this was all barefoot and backwoods living and I wasn’t scared to venture out and explore every nook and cranny, but Mema had her fears, and I couldn’t get her knickers in a bunch.

Chapter Three

An hour later, I walked through the front door. Aunt Connie was sprawled out on the sofa watching The Beverly Hillbillies . I didn’t feel the need to acknowledge her presence, there was always someone lying about somewhere. We had a houseful; there was no shortage of people around here. Mema had six kids, my momma being one of them. They didn’t all live here, but they migrated here on a daily basis. My momma, Jean, was the oldest, currently separated, me being her only child, relocated from St. Cloud, Florida to Blytheville, Arkansas. My momma was the authoritative figure; when she spoke, people listened. She was also the most endowed of her clan. My aunts always complained that since momma was born first she got all the boobs. I’d seen it with my own eyes; it was true, but I still held out hope that it would skip a generation and start over with me. I wanted to have ample bosoms too.

Next in the gene line was Aunt Peggy; she was cousin Billy’s momma. Although my aunts held similar traits such as their box-framed glasses, stringy, straight brown hair, hourglass figures with full hips, that’s where the similarities stopped. Aunt Peggy went against the grain—she had no shame, she was ostentatious and self-absorbed. I don’t think she liked my momma too much either. I sensed a lot of tension in their relationship. Aunt Peggy resented my momma for reasons untold and my momma just blew it off. She and Billy didn’t live with Mema. They had a small apartment in the main part of the town within walking distance.

Uncle Harold was the black sheep of the family—a little weird, the only blond in the group. He was ex-military; gruff and stern, sometimes unpredictable. He would look at me sometimes and his eyes would be like icy steel. I tried to avoid him at all costs, but he lived with us, so it was hard to do. Aunt Lily was my favorite—outgoing, bubbly, extremely talkative, never a dull moment with her around. I liked Aunt Connie too, but she was more of an introvert, the chaste one, frail, meek. She avoided conflict at all costs. She and Aunt Lily shared a duplex down the street. Staying with them made for an interesting evening. Uncle Randy is the youngest; he’s also the only redhead with freckles. I found it odd that my momma and her sisters had brown hair and then they had a blond and a redheaded brother. Rumors abounded about them being ‘mailman’ children. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I was sure it didn’t apply.

My Pepa didn’t live with us; he and Mema were separated but still legally married. I guess after six kids, Mema thought she’d better put some distance between them. So Pepa lived in a rented room in town; he drove for the only taxi cab service around for miles. I liked to visit him too. We’d go to the local fifties diner in town, complete with red, vinyl stools along the front counter, black-and-white checkered floor, a jukebox in the corner. I was popular with the old men who frequented the place, passing time, swapping stories about the good ole days. I would spin around on the stool while Patsy Cline melodies filled the air. Pepa called me his ‘wandering star.’ I even got a ballpoint pen with it engraved on it. I also have my own special poem to go along with it: When I get to heaven, tie me to a tree, ’cause when I get to wandering, you will never know where I’ll be. Well, I just wandered by Aunt Connie on my way to the kitchen looking for Momma.

Chapter Four

Thursday night

The table was set; it looked like a family affair. I snooped around the casserole dishes and surmised a menu of chicken and homemade dumplings with buttery yeast rolls. I was scouring for the dessert when Momma walked into the kitchen.

Hey, Momma, what’s the special occasion?

She wiped her hands on the apron. Your aunt Connie has a date, and he’s coming over here for dinner.

I was perplexed. Are you sure it was Aunt Connie?

She swatted me with the kitchen towel she had picked up. Hush, of course I’m sure, and you better be on your best behavior.

I rolled my eyes. I’m always good.

She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. Yes, you are. Just don’t morph into a split personality at dinner. She chuckled at her own joke while I stared at her.

If Aunt Connie’s gonna be on a date, why is she sprawled out on the couch like a wet blanket?

Momma looked startled. I’ll be back, don’t touch anything.

She went toward the doorway. On second thought, go change your clothes. She made a beeline for the living room while I ran upstairs.

I didn’t know why I had to change, it wasn’t my date. Mema lived in an old white two-story clapboard; it was complete with an attic and a cellar. It also had a fireplace, but it looked like it was more for decoration than for actual use. Out front was a porch swing. Me and Momma had only been living here since February. I finished out third grade here. It should’ve been fourth grade, but I got held back in Florida in my kindergarten year. My birthday is September first and they said it fell right after the appropriate guidelines. They assumed I’d develop more intellectually, they must’ve been right; I make straight A’s in every subject and I hold the spelling bee champion title for my school district, that’s why I use big words.

I went to my room and found a clean outfit. I went into the bathroom and washed up. I brushed my hair and stared at my reflection. I wondered about my first date, if we would have Momma cook for us. My thoughts were interrupted due to snickering behind me. I looked past my reflection to see Billy crouching in the doorway.

I turned around. Don’t you have small animals to torture?

He mimicked me and sneered. You keep looking in that mirror, it’s gonna break.

Go away! I yelled as I slammed the door.

He punched the closed door once and left. If he wasn’t so mean and ornery, I would almost feel sorry for him. Aunt Peggy wasn’t always available to tend to his cries for attention. She spent a great deal of time on the prowl trying to fill the hole that Billy’s daddy had left in their lives. I could relate; Momma left my daddy in Florida, but Billy didn’t want to bond over our similar problem. He wanted to be angry and I got to be on the receiving end of it. I smiled at myself in the mirror; I may know where his insecurities stemmed from but I wouldn’t lie down and take it. I would dish it back to him like potato salad at a picnic.

Chapter Five

Thursday night

Dinner went off without a hitch. Momma had gotten Aunt Connie all spiffed up and everyone was on their best behavior. Her date’s name was Charles and I liked him. He had some crazy sideburns and milk-chocolate eyes you could swim in. He played the guitar; he didn’t bring it with him but he promised he would play it for us next time. Next time