Mercy Jane, her hands on her pregnant belly, stood in the Fire, letting it run over her toes and soothe her feet. After a short while in the river, she bent her knees and reached for the buckets at her sides. As she trudged back, she could see the white-washed frame house that was just visible above the rise from the riverbank.

She remembered that it was from the banks of this river that she was first introduced to her home. Of the eleven small rivers in Rivers County, Texas, The Fire was, for Mercy Jane, the most mystical. The winding stream was clear and crisp and the bright red clay of the riverbed made the waters dance and flash in the sunlight.

Ollie, knowing how she felt about the river, chose one Sunday near the end of the cotton picking season of her sixteenth year to bring her to its banks.

“Here, Miss Mercy, look at this land.” Ollie Elder was a wiry, brown-skinned nineteen year old who had captured the attention of many of the girls in Mercy Jane’s grammar school class. His skill with math did not prevent him from being the most attractive boy in the school before he ran off and enlisted. Ollie had just come back from the War. He’d joined his family, father and two brothers in picking that season.

“What about it? Don’t look any different to me, “ she said, surveying the magnolia trees and the Spanish moss draped live oaks which covered the flat land intermittently.

Mercy Jane’s curiosity about what Ollie was up to had stopped her worrying about Aunt Martha, who usually kept a hawk eye on them when Ollie came to call. Somehow, they had managed to slip away from the front porch unnoticed.

“Don’t it? Even when you know its yours?” The young pecan colored woman looked at Ollie as if his head had sprouted daisies.

“Mercy, when I came back here to Rivers after being away, I though I was just gonna blow through town in my new Model T and make everyone see that I was worth something. But when I see you walking down the road in town, man…you changed my whole world. When I wasn’t looking, you turned into a woman who would make mw want to build a home and life with right here in Rivers…”

Mercy Jane blushed and turned away. She never expected Ollie Elder to pay attention to her, much less offer to marry her. She felt that she wasn’t pretty like Irene Sims who had a new dress every school year. That was the kind of girl she expected Ollie to go for.

Mercy felt too country and wild, which is what Aunt Martha called her, because she liked to go around like a tomboy on the farm, daydreaming the days away and counting the minutes until she could go to Normal School in Houston and not have to be told what to do anymore. It was a new world, 1919; the war was over and Mercy Jane was going to experience life.

“Just what are you talking about Ollie? Are you asking me to stay in this podunk town and marry you?” She did not want to end up like her mother; she wanted to be happy.

Ollie flashed a wide grin at her. “You know that for me, you would do anything.” His smile belied a small fear that she would say no. Mercy Jane Carrington was a strong willed female. She might deny him just to be contrary.

But he was right. As she smiled in return, he said. “When I saw you playing in this river the other day, I just had to sell my Ford and buy this land from Ol’ Richardson. He think it’s worthless, but honey, this land is as fertile as they come.”

He leaned down to kiss her and that was the end of Mercy pondering rebellion.

Ollie had been right about the land, and Mercy Jane proved to be as fertile as the soil. They and their growing family worked the homestead, and now, 15 years and 12 children later, she was pregnant again, just six months along, but a big as nine. As she let the river soothe her aching feet, Mercy allowed herself to miss Ollie, who had died while taking the harvest to market in Houston just six weeks earlier in September.

Now she was walking to a house that was filled with people, yet empty of her husband.

After setting the buckets down in the kitchen, she went to her bedroom and stared at the empty bed. Mercy Jane prepared herself for a lifetime without him. The realization that her life had changed forever overcame her like a wave. It started in her head and washed down to her feet. The wave carried with it birth water.

Even though it was early, having been through fourteen births before, she calmly called to her Aunt Martha, who had moved in with them five years before. It was time for yet another Elder to be born into the world.

To be continued….

This is a story I started about 20 years ago.  It is inspired by my great grandmother and is the only story of mine my mother ever read. I think I can make it into something.  We’ll see.