Stella by Starlight (9 page)

Stella watched Spoon Man wander over toward where the neighbors, like moths, were hovering over the warmth of the fire pit. The odd flame shot up, and while the sight of it sent a flicker of a shiver through Stella, she also noticed that the fire's glow gave everyone a blush of peacefulness. Any threat, for now, seemed distant.

“Ooh-wee, this was a good idea, Georgia,” Mrs. Spencer told Stella's mother as she finished her third piece of pie. “I was good and hungry!” She was a tall woman with a huge gap between her two front teeth and the biggest laugh in the neighborhood. Stella had never seen her lose her temper or yell at one of her children, not even once.

“I heard once about a man who was so hungry he salted and peppered himself and swallowed himself whole!” Mr. Bates said, slapping his skinny knee.

“That's nothin',” countered Mr. Winston. “I know a man who was so hungry he ate up his skin and bones and left nothin' but his shadow!”

Loud guffaws followed.

Mr. Spencer jumped in. “Well, I know a man so stingy that he wouldn't eat out in the sunlight, 'cause he was scared his shadow might ask for some of the food!” His wife howled.

Mr. Winston, who worked in the mill with Mr. Spencer, added, “Now
I
know 'bout stingy. The
boss
be stingy. I know a boss so cheap that one day when the mine blowed up and some of the workers got blown in the air, he docked their pay for the time their feet wasn't on the ground.”

“Smitherman,” several men said at once, nodding. Everybody seemed to be in agreement at that one. An uncomfortable silence suddenly fell.

Stella's father looked over at Spoon Man's mule, and, clearly trying to lighten the mood, quickly called out, “Your mule sho is skinny, Spoon Man. But I know
a man whose mule was so thin that he had to feed that animal muddy water just to keep from seeing through it!” That brought the laughter back.

Mrs. Malone, sipping from a mug, said, “Sarah Bates, this is some right good cider. You ever heard tell of the man who grew an apple so big that when it fell in the river one day, the river ran pure cider for six months?”

“No,” Mrs. Bates replied. “But I know 'bout an apple tree that grew so tall that it took fifty years to cut it down. My great uncle started sawing it in 1882, and it just fell yesterday!”

Stella cracked up—that was a good one!

Dr. Hawkins stretched his hands out toward the fire pit. “Winter comin' soon. I remember that day it got so cold that my words got frozen as they come out my mouth. I had to take 'em inside by the fire and melt 'em before my family knew what I was saying!”

Mr. Spencer added, “Yeah, but remember last summer when it got so hot we had to feed the chickens ice water to keep them from laying hard-boiled eggs?”

The laughter rippled across the darkness like a silken ribbon.

“Well, what about that storm that blew the crooked road straight?”

“The same wind that blowed so hard the sun came up late and Sunday didn't get here until late Tuesday evening?” Pastor Patton joined in.

“That's musta been why I missed church last week,” Mr. Winston said.

“You missed church because you went fishing!” Pastor Patton retorted.

Mr. Winston turned to Spoon Man. “Save me, Spoon Man,” he pleaded. “Tell us a story before the pastor sends me to damnation for a fishin' trip!”

“Can't help you much there, John,” Spoon Man replied with a smile. “I tend to tiptoe around the edges of any church I happen to see. But I'll oblige y'all with a story, just to show I'm so very thankful for the hospitality and the vittles!”

Cheers and shouts of encouragement followed. Spoon Man cleared his throat and shifted to the edge of his chair. Then he began, his voice low and deep.

“Once, long, long ago, there was a noble eagle who laid three eggs. She carefully set them in her nest atop the tallest mountain. She watched those eggs, and
kept them warm, and loved her little nestlings even before they hatched.

“But one day a great storm raged around that mountaintop. The winds blew something fierce, and heavy rains pelted the eagle and her nest. Thunder crashed and lightning crackled! An earthquake rocked the earth. Why, the whole world shook with the power of that storm!”

As he spoke, Spoon Man whistled like the wind and burbled thunder from his lips, flailing his arms to capture the fury of the tempest. Stella scooted closer to her mother, who very quietly slipped the purple bracelet onto Stella's wrist. Her first bracelet! Stella laced her fingers between her mother's.

“The mother eagle did all she could to protect her eggs,” Spoon Man continued, “but during the height of the storm, one of those eggs was blown out of the nest, and it rolled swiftly down that mountain. The mother eagle squawked and cried out, but there was nothing she could do except try to protect the two eggs that remained. The storm ended, the rains stopped, the sun came out, but the egg was gone and the mother eagle was heartbroken.

“Now that egg that fell didn't break. No, M'am and no, sir! It came to rest in the garden of a farm at the base of the mountain.

“The next morning the farmer noticed the unusual egg. He picked it up and placed it in the nest of his favorite chicken—the Rhode Island Red that took such good care of her chicks.”

Stella could almost imagine going out to check her chickens for eggs and finding a big old eagle egg sitting there. Yep, that's just what she would do—give it to her best hen.

Spoon Man cleared his throat. Mrs. Hawkins brought him a glass of lemonade. He gulped some down and continued.

“That mother hen, she clucked a little, but she made room for the eagle egg in her nest. A few days later—
scratch, scratch, peep, peep
. Three little chickens poked their way out of their shells, and for the next few days they happily began exploring the farmyard while the mother hen stayed with the last egg, the big one.

“On the fifth day, the strange, large egg began to shudder and crack until a gigantic chick emerged
from that shell, wide-eyed, and doin' more squawkin' than peepin'. Gradually it, too, began to explore the farmyard and joined its brother and sisters as they all learned how to be chickens. They learned to drink water from the pan the farmer had set out for them, how to pick up little pieces of grain with their beaks, and how to scratch in the dirt for bugs or grubs. They followed their mother around as she taught them how to survive.

“The three little chicks were a pretty golden-yellow color, but the larger chick was pure white with large, dark curious eyes. His beak was black instead of yellow, and so were his claws. He was a clunky, awkward little fella. But the mama chicken didn't mind at all—she loved him and took care of him no matter what.”

Spoon Man took another sip of the lemonade.

“As the chicks got older, the baby eagle grew increasingly discontented. While his sisters grew to be plump yellow chickens, and his brother into a rusty red-rooster, the baby eagle had lost the white feathers and turned into a sleek golden-brown bird—so much taller and stronger than the other chickens.

“His brother and sisters either ignored him or
laughed at him as he scratched for food. The mama tried to intervene when she could, but she knew that children had to find their own way.

“Finally, one bright clear day, the young eagle looked up and saw something soaring high above. It was sleek and black. It glided on the currents of the wind, swooping and turning with the breeze.

“ ‘Oh my,' said the young eagle. ‘I wish I could do that.'

“His brother the rooster cackled, ‘You can't do that. You're a
chicken
! And everybody knows that chickens don't fly in the sky.'

“The young eagle tucked his head in his wings and scratched in the dirt sorrowfully. The mama chicken walked in that funny chicken strut over to him. ‘Son,' she asked, ‘do you want to fly?'

“ ‘Oh yes! I wish I could fly like that great bird I saw in the sky. I wish it more than anything.'

“ ‘Then you must fly,' the mother chicken said simply.

“ ‘But I can't! I'm a chicken!'

“ ‘No, son,' she said. ‘You have never been a chicken. And you have always been meant to fly. Now get up on that stump!'

“The little eagle leaped for the stump. He fell down in the dirt. He jumped again. And fell once more. Then he did something he'd never tried before. He unfurled his wings and flapped as he jumped. And to his shock and delight, he felt himself lift into the air, higher than he could jump. He landed on the stump with ease and looked back at mama chicken wide-eyed.

“ ‘Good-bye, my child,' the mama chicken said tearily. ‘Find your family. Find your destiny. Find your wings!'

“The young eagle flew effortlessly to the top of the fence, then to the roof of the house. He looked at the wide blue sky, took a deep breath, and leaped off. The wind caught him as he spread his wings to their full expanse and soared! He glided and swooped! He did turns and circles and somersaults. He screeched in delight.” Spoon Man was now standing—his own arms stretched out, his face turned to the night sky.

Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “And you know who heard that sound?” He looked at the children. “The mama eagle. Mothers always know the voice of their children.”

Every mother in the circle gave a little hug to her closest child.

Spoon Man settled back down in his chair. “The mother eagle flew out to meet him with great joy and brought him back to the top of the mountain, where he belonged.

“ ‘I'm an eagle,' the young bird said triumphantly. ‘And I was born to fly!' ”

At that moment, Stella almost felt like she could fly herself.

15

It took hours for Stella's family to fall asleep that night. Stella had helped her mother clean up after all the guests had left. Then she helped her father set up a pallet in the barn for Spoon Man. And although Stella thought Jojo would have been exhausted from all the excitement, he tossed and turned until late in the night. Stella had to fight to stay awake.

Finally she slipped on her father's jacket and snuck outside. The fire pit still held the glow of the fading logs, but it offered very little heat.

She wasn't gonna be able to do this much longer—it was cold! Sneaking out here to write didn't seem to be helping her writing in school anyway, she thought glumly, tucking her toes under the hem of her
nightgown. In addition to the cold, her deep sense of unease was back, without the laughter and stories from earlier to chase it away.

She thought about Spoon Man's tale of the eagle, and his advice about writing away the worries, but mostly she just gazed at the stars and brooded about flight and birds and airplanes, which she'd seen exactly only four times in her entire life as they zoomed across the sky.

So she nearly jumped out of her skin when the door opened. It was just her mother. She plopped down beside Stella and wrapped the blanket from Stella's bed around them both.

“You know I see you every time you sneak out at night,” her mother said, pulling her close.

“You do?”

“There's not much around here that a mama misses.”

“I guess not,” Stella said, thinking back to what Mama had said about her grandmother not sleeping for twenty years. “It's just that . . . well, I like the night. And it's a good place to hide.”

“Hide? From what?”

Stella inched away, making a face. “I come out here to practice, Mama. I've got stuff in my head, but I don't know how to get it out. I try to write it down sometimes, but I'm not very good at it. It's like my brains are dumplings in somebody else's soup.” She looked up toward the stars, but even the sky had turned murky.

Her mother hugged her closer. “I've talked to Gertrude Grayson a time or two,” she said gently.

Stella stiffened.
Betrayed!