Annie's Angel

Annie’sAngel

Jim Lawrence

Copyright © 2000, 2003 by Jim Lawrence.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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1960

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

Dedication

To Barbara

For countless moments of wonderful

When we’re from sorrow free,

We’ll sing on, we’ll sing on.

When we’re from sorrow free,

We’ll sing on.

When we’re from sorrow free,

We’ll rise and joyful be,

And through eternity,

We’ll sing on.

—old folk hymn of the Southern Highlands

1

Tommy Lee! Get yourself back here ‘fore I whop you up side th’ head!

Annie Mae McCree was exasperated. She clutched her arms tightly around her slender body in a futile attempt to keep out the sharp wind that was blowing in from Lake Michigan, and watched her ten-year-old brother scamper away down Kenmore toward the forbidden shortcut through the alley.

Annie was fourteen now, and a head taller, but that didn’t seem to count for much once Tommy Lee got it into his head to do something. This was especially irritating on a cold October afternoon when all Annie wanted to do was get home and get warm.

Tommy Lee! So help me, I’m tellin’!

It was no use. Happily ignoring Annie’s threats, the little boy raced past the dilapidated stone and brick buildings and disappeared into a dark wonderland of garbage and debris.

Annie drew a deep breath and started after him, her jaw clinched in determination. One of her many responsibilities these days was seeing the younger children safely to and from school, and she was not about to have her authority challenged.

She had already taken a couple of quick, long strides when she suddenly remembered that seven-year-old Mary Elizabeth was dawdling along the sidewalk a few steps behind her.

Come on, honey, Annie said as she stopped and waited for the little girl to catch up. Let’s us go find your knuckle headed brother.

Mary Elizabeth wiped her raw, runny nose on a frayed sweater sleeve, then shuffled over and tentatively took hold of her big sister’s outstretched hand.

What’d I tell you ‘bout that? Annie snapped impatiently. Use a hankie.

Ain’t got no hankie, Mary Elizabeth whined.

Annie dug inside the pocket of her own ratty sweater and pulled out the remains of a crumpled paper napkin, which she clamped over Mary Elizabeth’s nose.

Blow, she commanded.

Mary Elizabeth obeyed.

Hang onto that, Annie said.

Ain’t nothin’ left, Mary Elizabeth rightly observed.

There’s enough for you. Now come on.

Mary Elizabeth put the soggy, shredded napkin in her pocket and once again took her sister’s hand. She was as shy as Tommy Lee was precocious, so Annie had to practically drag her along behind as they made their way toward the alley.

Is Tommy Lee gonna get a whippin’? Mary Elizabeth asked.

Wouldn’t surprise me one bit, Annie replied.

It would be abundantly clear to anyone who saw the children pass that the three were siblings. All had unruly mops of carrot colored hair, large, bright green eyes, and patches of brown freckles splattered on their cheeks and noses.

Tommy Lee and Mary Elizabeth were both small for their ages and somewhat anemic. Annie had been the same, but over the past year she had added a few inches to her height, mostly in her long legs. She was starting to develop a bit of a figure, too, but it was hidden inside the loose cotton dress and the over-sized brown sweater that once belonged to her father.

That the McCree children were poor was obvious, but their hand-me-down clothes were always lovingly cleaned and pressed, and they started each morning with a lye soap scrubbing that literally made their skin glow. Besides, where they came from, being poor was nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone they knew was pretty much in the same circumstances.

Annie, Tommy Lee and Mary Elizabeth lived in the decaying neighborhoods of Uptown Chicago, just north of the downtown loop. In the fall of 1963 it was a blighted area approximately sixteen blocks long that took in parts of Broadway, Sheridan and Kenmore Streets.

Here, soot-stained stone and brick tenement apartments looked out on abandoned automobiles, seedy beer joints, adult bookstores, fundamentalist storefront churches, and dark, garbage-filled alleyways. Every telephone pole was plastered with overlapping posters that advertised boxing matches, soul music concerts, or religious revival meetings, and every wall displayed the distinctive graffiti designs that marked the territory of a particular street gang. The only standing structures left untouched by the posters or the spray cans appeared to be the crumbling, blackened ruins left by the ever-present vandals and arsonists.

This was the place known derisively by Chicagoans as Hillbilly Land.

Hillbilly Land was home to a number of migrants from the Southern Appalachian highlands. They had started coming during the 1950’s, men who had lost their jobs because of automation and other new mining practices. Later, as the coal ran out and the mines were closed, and as logging and timber interests stripped the hills of valuable hardwoods, entire families had left their homes in West Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee and moved to Detroit, to Cleveland, to Chicago, and to the other northern industrial centers.

They came because they had heard rumors of work—jobs on assembly lines, jobs in factories, jobs driving trucks, jobs with decent pay, long-term security and health benefits. The reality was somewhat different, however. The good jobs soon ran out, and those that were

left were most often only day work and menial labor, scarcely enough to support a growing family.

As the months and years went by, they found themselves trapped. A stubborn streak inherited from their Scotch-Irish forebears made them too proud to live on the dole and they became mired in debt and unpaid bills, unable to make a living in this alien environment and, in most cases, unable to return to their highland homes. Even if they could go back, for many of them there was no longer anyplace to go.

Hillbilly Land had been home to the McCrees for a little more than two years. They had come reluctantly, and only after exhausting every other option back in Jenkins, Kentucky.

They had held on for a long time, even after James Allen lost his job at the mine. They held on through his illness, with everyone pitching in, trying to scratch out a living on the small hillside farm. They held on against the Farmers and Merchants Bank when it started foreclosure proceedings on their land, land that had been in the McCree family for five generations, but of necessity was heavily mortgaged. They had held on through it all until at last there was nothing left to hold on to. The final option was to take the last of their meager savings, pack their few remaining belongings, and make the long trek north. They came to Chicago because they knew folks from back home were there, and because they, too, had heard the promise of good jobs and good pay.

But none of these things were in the mind of a small ten-year-old boy on a cold and windy October afternoon as he moved past the remains of a burned-out automobile and made his way down the alley. In his eyes he saw stretching before him a vast and beckoning canyon that snaked along beneath towering cliffs, where rusting fire escapes had been magically transformed into ancient Indian dwellings.

It wasn’t a filthy alley in uptown at all; it was the Grand Canyon. It wasn’t littered with trash and debris and discarded furniture; it was filled with massive boulders that were etched with mysterious carvings.

Who knows? Perhaps somewhere among these winding pathways lay the secret of the lost Spanish gold, and Tommy Lee McCree would be the one to discover it at last.

With that happy thought, the pint-sized adventurer eagerly scrambled up a pile of boxes and discovered a discarded mattress and bedspring. Wonder what the Apaches did with this? He leaped on top of it and was delighted to find that he got a good high bounce. Of course. This is how they reached their houses high up on the cliffs.

He started jumping up and down on the makeshift trampoline and was thoroughly enjoying himself when he suddenly became aware of a pungent odor emanating from the stairwell beneath a nearby fire escape.

Curious, he slid off the mattress and went to investigate.

As Tommy Lee approached, a tall boy who looked to be about sixteen or seventeen stood up from the stairwell and faced him. He was scowling, and the scowl was more pronounced because of a long recently healed scar across his forehead, apparently the result of a knife fight. He was holding an oddly shaped cigarette in his hand, which seemed to be the source of the peculiar smell.

Two other boys stood and edged forward. They were about the same age, and all had a hard, angry look about them. It was clear even to Tommy Lee that they were not from back home.

Hi, he said innocently. What y’all doin’?

The first boy lifted the cigarette to his lips and sucked on it for what seemed like a long time. Then he slowly exhaled the greenish smoke through clinched teeth. The aroma was stronger, a sickly sweet smell that almost made Tommy Lee gag.

What th’ hell you starin’ at? The boy snarled as he passed the cigarette to his companions.

Suddenly frightened, Tommy Lee started to retreat.

I ain’t starin’ at nothin’, he said, stumbling over the mounds of garbage that littered the alley.

Come here, sucker, the boy said menacingly. I’ll give you something to look at!

Behind him Tommy Lee heard the distinctive click of a switchblade knife. He jumped at the sound and scrambled up over the mattress and the pile of boxes, his heart pounding.

Tommy Lee!

It was Annie. She stood a few yards inside the entrance to the alley, holding on to Mary Elizabeth’s hand.

Get yourself back here right now, she commanded.

I’m comin’, gasped Tommy Lee as he hurried toward her. I’m comin’!

He raced to Annie and planted himself behind her, holding tightly to her sweater.

So help me, Annie began, when we get home . . .

She trailed off as she saw the three boys standing atop the pile of boxes and looking down at them. Even in the semi darkness of the alley Annie could see the flash of the switchblade.

She instinctively pulled her brother and sister closer to her and took a deep breath.

Hi, she said finally, trying to sound cheerful.

Kinda chilly out, ain’t it?

The boy with the knife made his way down off the boxes. The others followed, fanning out to either side.

What th’ hell you doin’ here? the first boy said.

We ain’t doin’ nothin’, Annie replied, forcing a smile. Just goin’ home from school, that’s all.

The boy moved closer. He held the knife in front of him and touched the tip of the long slender blade with his finger.

‘Yeah? Well, we don’t want no damn hillbillies down here."

The others agreed as they edged nearer.

There was something cold and dangerous about them. Annie knew immediately this was no game. She’d have to think fast.

That’s right, she said quickly. "We’re just some dumb ol’ hillbillies. We don’t know no better, see? So . . . so why don’t y’all let

us on by an’ we’ll scamper off like a bunch of scared jackrabbits. Ain’t that right?"

Tommy Lee and Mary Elizabeth vigorously nodded their heads in agreement, peering out from behind Annie’s skirt.

The first boy stepped up and looked her up and down. He used the point of the knife to draw an outline of Annie’s body. The ugly scar across his forehead added significantly to the aura of menace he projected.

S’ppose we don’t want to let you by. S’ppose we want to have a little fun with you.

Quickly, Annie tried another tactic.

‘You . . . you best leave us be, she said, rising up to her full height. My daddy’s out lookin’ for us right now. An’ . . . an’ he’s big an’ strong an’ he gets awful mean sometimes. If you don’t watch out, he’s liable to—"

Your daddy won’t do nothin ‘! the boy growled as he touched the edge of the blade to Annie’s cheek.

She shuddered and backed away, pulling the children with her.

Then she realized that the other boys had moved in behind her, blocking escape from the alley.

The boy with the knife crept closer to Annie, clearly enjoying the terror he was inflicting upon his helpless prey.

He stopped directly in front of her, so close she could see his blood shot, dilated eyes, and smell his rancid breath.

I’m warnin’ you, she said softly, swallowing hard and desperately trying not to show the fear that was churning inside her. Anything happens to us, an’ my daddy—

Why don’t you shut up! The boy said sharply, thrusting the knife in front of her face.

Annie jumped. Her mouth was dry. She felt like her heart was about to explode inside her chest.

The boy lowered the knife and reached toward her with his free hand.

Annie clutched Tommy Lee and Mary Elizabeth tightly and held them close to her. She was trembling, but she prayed it didn’t show. She wanted to close her eyes, but she forced herself to keep them open as she summoned up the best look of defiance she could manage in the circumstances.

I ain’t scared of you, she whispered, her voice cracking. We’re McCrees from Letcher County. We ain’t skeered of nobody.

The boy smiled, a wicked smile.

Yeah, he said. I bet.

His hand was only inches away from her face.

Annie had already made up her mind to bite his fingers off if they came anywhere near her mouth—but before the boy could touch her, he abruptly winced in pain and grabbed his right cheek.

Ow!Damn it!he shouted as he stumbled backwards.

The switchblade clattered to the pavement at his feet.

Startled, the boy took his hand away from his face and stared at it in disbelief.

Annie immediately saw that his palm was smeared with blood. She looked up and saw a large, ugly gash under the boy’s right eye. It was bleeding profusely.

Apparently he had been hit very hard on the cheek by the chunk of broken concrete that now lay at his feet.

Suddenly, a barrage of rocks, bricks and fragments of broken plaster and concrete rained down on the three boys from above. An unseen assailant, hidden somewhere in an abandoned building, was pelting them with deadly accuracy.

Annie quickly grabbed Mary Elizabeth and Tommy Lee and dragged them for cover behind a heaping pile of rotting trash bags. Once safely situated, they peered out and looked on in astonishment.

The three street toughs desperately tried to hide, to escape, to fight back, but their attacker was well armed and well hidden.

Every projectile seemed to find its mark. The boys were hit repeatedly until finally, swollen, bleeding, and totally defeated, they stumbled away down the alley and made their escape.

Once they had gone, Annie and the kids cautiously emerged from hiding and looked up at the abandoned building.

At first they saw nothing. Then, a voice with a distinctive Southern mountain twang shouted down at them.

What th’ hell you dumb hillbillies doin’ in that there alley? You ain’t got the sense God gave a piss-ant!

A tall, lanky sixteen-year-old boy with a shaggy mop of raven black hair emerged dramatically from one of the darkened windows and leaped onto the rusty fire escape.

Below, Tommy Lee and Mary Elizabeth reacted excitedly.

Look, Annie! Tommy Lee shouted. It’s Lucas!

It’s Lucas! It’s Lucas! Mary Elizabeth repeated happily.

Annie shook her head and muttered to herself, I mighta knowed.

She watched in undisguised admiration as Lucas made his way down the fire escape and bounded toward them with the grace and agility of a tomcat.

"What you doin’ messin’ with them boys?» Lucas said as he approached. «It’s a good thing I was keepin’ a eye out for you.»

«I don’t need you lookin’ out for me, Lucas Pridemore,» Annie said defensively, covering her great sense of relief. «I can take care of myself.»

«Yeah, I seen how good you done that!" Lucas replied sarcastically.

Tommy Lee eagerly ran over to Lucas with his arms outstretched.

Piggyback me, Lucas! Piggyback me!

No, me! Piggyback me, Lucas! cried Mary Elizabeth as she hurried over as well.

Lucas grinned broadly and winked at Annie. His ice blue eyes sparkled.

I’ll piggyback Tommy Lee, an’ Annie can piggyback Mary Elizabeth. How ‘bout that?

Thanks a whole heap, Annie said, trying very hard not to appear the least bit interested in whatever he might do or say.

Lucas assisted Tommy Lee up on his back, while Mary Elizabeth, reduced to second choice, held her arms out to Annie.

Giddy up, Lucas! Giddy up! Tommy Lee shouted.

Lucas obliged and trotted off over the garbage, whinnying like a horse.

Giddy up, Annie! Mary Elizabeth cried as she climbed on her sister’s back.

Annie took hold of her, and then hurried after Lucas with the little girl clinging tightly to her neck.

Not so tight, Mary Elizabeth! You’re near ‘bout to squish off my windpipe.

Make a noise like a horsy! Make a noise like a horsy!

Annie obliged, reluctantly, and horses and riders galloped out of the alley and onto Kenmore Avenue.

Lucas rode Tommy Lee down the sidewalk and up and down the front stoops of the brownstone apartment houses, as the little boy squealed with delight.

Annie tried to keep up, but soon tired of Mary Elizabeth choking her and set her down.

You’re gettin’ too fat to carry, she said, catching her breath.

You ain’t as good a horsy as Lucas, Mary Elizabeth replied.

Annie gave her a playful slap on the rump.

Hush up an’ get on home.

Mary Elizabeth stuck her tongue out. Annie chased after her until they caught up with Tommy Lee and Lucas, who had now slowed to a walk.

All right, cowboy, hop off, Lucas said.

More! More! More! Tommy Lee demanded.

Nope. Your horse is done tuckered out, said Lucas as he helped Tommy Lee dismount.

What do you say to Lucas, Tommy Lee? Annie asked, her hands on her hips.

Thank you, replied Tommy Lee.

You’re welcome, Lucas said, smiling.

Enough politeness. Tommy Lee abruptly pulled Mary Elizabeth’s hair and took off.

Come on, punkin face. Race you home!

Mary Elizabeth wailed and chased after him, leaving Annie and Lucas walking together along the sidewalk.

An empty Vienna sausage can was lying near the gutter. Lucas gave it a kick that sent it bouncing into the street where it was immediately squashed by the tire of a passing taxicab.

Where’s your big brother at? he asked. I ain’t seen him since that night him an’ me sat out on th’ steps talkin’.

Annie took a breath and stared down at the cracks in the sidewalk.

Jim Edward run off, just like he said. Went to live with Aunt Mae an’ Uncle Buford back in Letcher County.

Lucas took this in with interest and mulled it over a bit before he said anything.

That’s what I ought to do, he said finally, go on back to North Carolina.

Annie glanced at him. There was a flicker of concern on her face.

You got people there? she asked, trying to seem only mildly interested.

My gran’ daddy. He wants me to work on his farm. It’s got so he can’t do much himself no more, on account of his bad back.

"That what you want to do?

They walked on. Lucas looked around at the filthy apartments and the arson-scarred buildings, a dark expression on his face.

I don’t know, he said softly. I sure do hate this place, though.

As if to emphasize the point, he abruptly picked up a fragment of brick off the sidewalk and sailed it through a broken window in one of the abandoned buildings. There was the sound of a thud from inside, followed by the crash of something metallic.

Annie had a sudden feeling of uneasiness, or maybe she was just cold. She pulled the front of her sweater together and folded her arms.

They approached a row of old brownstone tenement apartments. As they neared the front stoop, the sound of mountain music could be heard faintly in the background.

For a moment they stood together in awkward silence, then Annie offered hesitantly, Wanta come in th’ house for a spell?

Reckon not, Lucas said. I’ll be seein’ ya.

He started off down the street, then stopped and turned.

You stay out of them alleys, you hear me?

Yes, sir! Annie said, saluting.

Then Lucas turned and darted off. About a block away he leaped for a fire escape ladder, pulled himself up and quickly bounded up the metal steps.

Annie watched him until he disappeared from sight on the roof of a nearby building.

That was Lucas.

Like some kind of guardian angel he would appear just when she needed him most, then, just as quickly, he would disappear into his private and secret world.

Annie sighed, then turned and moved up the steps to the brownstone, following the sounds of the music.

As she entered the dingy hallway, she recognized the melody of one of her favorite songs, The Blue Ridge Mountain Blues. Suddenly feeling her spirits lifted, she took the steps two at a time as she bounded up the dark stairway toward the third floor apartment.

When Annie burst through the door she found the tiny, cramped living room crowded with men, women and small children, all of whom were clapping and singing.

Annie’s father, James Allen, was vigorously tapping his foot and flailing away claw hammer style on an old five-string banjo, the one true heirloom the family still possessed.

James Allen was an old thirty-nine. He was rail-thin and rather sickly looking, but playing the banjo energized him to the extent that the flush returned to his sallow cheeks and his complexion began to match the red of his curly hair. He vigorously tapped his foot in time to the music, as he rocked back and forth on the sagging couch.

Joining James Allen was sixty-three-year-old Farley Ledbetter on acoustic guitar, Miss Ella Barnes, she of indeterminate age, on the fiddle, and nineteen-year-old Nathan Sims on blues harp. What this combo lacked in musical sophistication it more than made up for with an infectious enthusiasm.

Mavis June McCree spotted Annie standing in the open door, swaying back and forth with the beat, and pushed her way through the crowd toward her.

Annie’s mother had once been rather pretty, one of the belles of Letcher County, but hard times had worn her down and she now looked much older than her thirty-four years. Her once smooth face was now deeply etched with worry lines, and her long, light brown hair was streaked with premature gray.

Where have you been? she snapped at Annie as soon as she reached her. I told y’all to come straight on home after school.

I know, mama, but—

An’ I don’t want you lettin’ Mary Elizabeth an’ Tommy Lee run ‘round by their selves. I ‘xpect you to look out for ‘em.

I do, mama, Annie protested, only, you see, what it was, we was in this alley an’ these mean boys come after us. But Lucas Pridemore throwed rocks at ‘em an’ run ‘em off—

Annie Mae McCree! Mavis June exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. What am I goin’ to do with you?

Leave th’ child be, woman! James Allen shouted over the music.

Without missing a beat, he continued good-naturedly, Why don’t you hush your jaw an’ sashay on out here an’ show us some fancy’ cloggin’.

The others immediately picked up on this and loudly egged her

on.

Go on, Mavis June! they said.

Show us how it’s done!

Let ‘er rip, honey!

Mavis June reddened with embarrassment. She tried to protest, but they were having none of it.

Go to it, Mavis June! Let’s see what dancin’s all about!

Reluctantly, Mavis June allowed herself to be dragged to the middle of the room. She cast a hard look at James Allen—who by this time was roaring with laughter—and started to clog.

The heel and toe of her shoes struck the bare floor in a traditional step dance that had been passed down from generation to generation, and had its origin somewhere in the mist-shrouded highlands of Scotland. Faster and faster she clogged until she broke into a free style mountain buck dance.

She was accompanied by whoops and shouts from the men and women, and by laughter and squeals of delight from the youngsters.

Eventually a woman joined