An Oak Tree Fallen

It was her tree.

Since she could remember, it had been her tree. The memories of it flooded her mind: warm summer days that made her seek the old oak’s shade; daring adventures in which she and her friends had climbed as high as the clouds; restless nights spent with her father pulling up alongside him with a blanket, eager to keep out the chill, watching the stars twinkle as far as the sky took them.

Now, Elizabeth Houghton looked at the damned thing and wondered how she had ever loved it. It was time for the tree to go, its usefulness far outlived, its sentimental value long dried up.

As her husband neared the dead carcass of the oak with a chainsaw, she thought back to the first time she had claimed it. A girl of no more than ten years, she and her father strolled along the estate in the springtime--they had always walked the estate at the first sign of spring-- listening to the birds singing and watching small critters run to tiny holes in the ground. They came upon the familiar tree after they had spotted a black squirrel nab an acorn in its paws and run up into the branches. It chattered to the other animals that its bounty was its own and no one else’s. The enormous oak sat near a quarter mile from the main house, yet Elizabeth had always run to it first when she went outside to play.

“This is my favorite tree, Daddy,” she said during their walk.

“This tree is ugly and old. It is riddled with knots and disease. How can this be your favorite tree?”

“It reminds me of you, Daddy, of the times we spent together. It reminds me of when we drank sour lemonade underneath it and did our best not to show Momma Guernsey our scrunched faces. It reminds me of when you would put your arm around my shoulder and tell me all was right in the world, and that I really was a princess in a fairy tale.”

“If that is true,” her father told her, “then this shall be your tree. It is a gift that only I can give, so use it wisely.”

“Then I wish to hang a tire swing from it.”

“A tire swing? Then it is done.” Within the week her father had wrapped a thick rope from one of the oak’s wide branches and tied the other end to an old black tire. “This tire is bald and therefore I don’t need it anymore. It’s more of a nuisance now than anything , so I shall tie it to this tree for you, Elizabeth.”

She had never been happier in her childhood.

#

The roar of the chainsaw snapped her out of her momentary lapse. Liz’s husband nodded to her, seemingly looking for final affirmation. It took her several seconds to respond, but finally she nodded back. He walked toward the tree.

#

Her father had told her the oak was hers, but that had not been the case two weeks later when Frankie Woods had come over and claimed the tree as his own. He climbed the shortest branch and said in his most annoying Southern accent, “No girls allowed on this here tree. He who climbs it, claims it.”

With her friend Rita by her side, Elizabeth had never been afraid of boys. The taunt was no more intimidating than the last feat of bravado Frankie Woods had tried to pull on the two girls; throwing a frog in their face had proved empty.

“Get down from my tree right now, Frankie!” she yelled.

“Hell no. I‘m not listenin’ to you, Lizard.”

Rita and Elizabeth shared a look of acknowledgement. Rita spoke. “I’m telling Papa Haughton you swore.”

“Go ‘head, Rita. Think he’s gonna believe a Negro over me? Anyways, I’m not afraid o’ him. I’m not afraid o’ anything.” The boy climbed to a higher branch and plucked at the oak leaves, sending them floating down at the girls feet.

“You oughta be afraid of this,” Elizabeth belted as she held out her fist. “I’m gonna give you a right beating when you get down from my tree.”

“Then maybe I’ll never get down. Stay up here forever. Sounds like just the life for me; I could eat the leaves and acorns and like. Sure, they might be a little gritty, but they get the job done all right.”

The two girls gave each other another acknowledging look, but this time filled with mischief. “You want acorns?” Rita asked. “We’ll give you acorns.” The girls picked up handfuls of the fallen acorns and began throwing them at Frankie. Most of them missed, but Elizabeth found his arm with one her throws.

“Ow!” Frankie said with a twang. “That hurt. Stop it.” He rubbed his arm and rolled up his sleeve to see the damage she had done.

“Oh stop being such a right wuss and come down from my tree.”

“It’s my tree now, Lizard. Ain’t no one gonna take it away.” The girls continued to seize handfuls of acorns and launch them at their friend.

During one of Elizabeth’s reloads, she happened upon a chunk of granite. In their excitement, it was something she had not noticed, but nevertheless, she chucked it at Frankie Woods. The granite flew through the air and hit him straight in the eye. The boy fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. It seemed like an eternity before the pain-filled screams began, but once they started, Frankie could do nothing but.

Elizabeth and her friend looked each other in the eyes once more; this time there was no acknowledgement, no mischief; only the terrified look of two young girls who didn’t know what to do or what would happen to them.

#

The chainsaw cut through the first layer of bark, sending sawdust and other debris into the air. Liz watched with morbid curiosity. In part, due to her tendency to analyze, she gauged her emotions as the blades slowly made their way across the trunk.

#

That night, Mr. Woods came by her father’s house to talk. He was a frightening man of at least six feet whose face looked as red and burnt as a tomato. He sat on their flower-pattern sofa and removed his hat.

“James, I’d like to see that girl of yours. You see, my Frankie--” The man almost broke down, but knew how weak and inappropriate that might seem in front of another man.

“I do hope he’s not in any serious injury, Ollie.”

“That’s just it, Jim, he is. My Frankie broke his arm, but that’s not the worst of it. That rock that just went up and hit him in the eye, well, he may never see outta that eye again. I need to talk to your girl and figure out what happened exactly, if you don’t mind, that is.”

“Of course not. We’ve got nothing’ to hide here in our family.” He walked to the hallway his hand up to his mouth. “Elizabeth! You get down here now, girl.”

She ran down the stairs as quickly as she could without falling flat on her face. The practice was almost ingrained in her after all these years.

“Now,” her father said as he stoked the fire, “I want you to tell Mr. Woods the truth about this whole incident that happened earlier today. I don’t want no lies, girl, I can tell them as soon as they come out your mouth, so don’t even try.”

“Yes, father.” She turned toward the red-faced man. “We all was playing--”

“Who all?” Mr. Woods interrupted.

“Me, Rita, and Frankie. We was playing near my oak tree…” Elizabeth’s father gave a scowl as she looked at him, but continued on. “And Frankie climbed up onto the lowest branch. I told him to get down, but he wouldn’t. He started on about how he’d live up there for the rest of his life and how he’d eat acorns to survive. Me and Rita, well, we thought it’d be right funny to give him exactly what he wanted so we started throwing acorns at him.”

“Did you throw any rocks?”

Elizabeth’s body tensed. “No, sir, I didn’t throw any rocks.”

“Well Frankie says you did. And that’s what made his eye bad. He might be blind for the rest of his life. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Did that Rita throw any rocks?”

“We only threw acorns.” Mr. Woods eyed her carefully and then cast a glare at her father.

“I don’t know, Ollie, I wasn’t there and it feels like the truth to me.”

Mr. Woods didn’t seem to like that. It caught Elizabeth by surprise when he grabbed her arm. “You tell me the truth, Elizabeth Houghton, and you tell it to me good. My Frankie’s in the hospital and he won’t get better until you say the God’s honest truth--”

“For God’s sake, Ollie, she’s only a girl--”

“You stay out of this, Jim, I’ve got a right to question her.” Elizabeth’s father took a step back. He would not help her here, she realized. She would have to tell the truth. But, no. It would be too horrible. She would never be able to go outside and play again. She would have to live the rest of her days locked in her little room with nothing but bread and water.

“It was Rita, she threw the granite.” As soon as the words were uttered, she regretted them, wished she could somehow take them back. But she didn’t want to face the scarlet of Mr. Woods’ face any longer, or worse, her father’s reckoning.

She had an out now, that was the one thing she had wanted all along. Elizabeth would have to keep to that story or both the girls would get in trouble, and what good would that do?

Mr. Woods stood and gestured to Mr. Houghton’s daughter, a motion intended to show that he had been right all along and knew exactly what was to be done next.

“Now don’t be so hasty, Ollie, they’re just girls. They was all playing, even Frankie.”

“My Frankie’s gonna be blind in his eye! Somebody’s gotta pay and you know who that’s gonna be, Jim. You know exactly who it’s gonna be.”

#

The chainsaw was nearly the whole way through. Cutting a tree of this size was not to be taken lightly, no matter her moods. Her husband stopped cutting.

“Why are you stopping?”

“I don’t want the tree to fall on top of us. If I can force it over now, then we know where it’ll land. Cutting all the way through, we might risk it falling on top of us.”

He pushed on the oak, applying as much force as he could to get it to topple.

#

It was a darned silly thing when the adults got all dressed up in their white robes, almost like a tea party or some other gathering. Elizabeth had never actually seen one of these parties, but she had seen her father robe up like the other men. They were almost like dresses, she thought, women’s dresses with tall hats.

She asked to go with this time, but was immediately refused. “You’ll have not part of this, Elizabeth. You hear me? Stay home. Momma Guernsey will make you a nice dinner and then you go straight to bed.”

“Yes, father.”

He left. Elizabeth saw fear in his eyes. If it was not a party he was going to, then what was it? It frightened her to think her father had been afraid of anything.

Momma Guernsey did make her a dinner of chicken that night with a side of peas. She two bites and asked to be excused. Momma Guernsey looked at her like she was crazy and dumped what food was left onto her own plate.

The deep voice snarled, “Get cleaned up now child, and go to bed.”

Elizabeth had no intentions of staying in bed tonight, and she knew Momma Guernsey had no intention of checking to see if she had. It would be an easy escape.

That night, the sky had been clear, the millions of stars reaching wide across the blue. A single cloud was covering the bottom half of the moon as if to hide itself, yet get a peek at what was going on.

She found the party next to her tree, the oak that her father had given her. All the men in their white dresses surrounded it, shouting and screaming in jest. As she approached, she could see them clearer. Dozens of small fires burned across the ground, lighting the men. Some danced and cheered, some just looked at her as she passed as if she were the ghost amongst these pale figures. And then she saw it. In the oak tree, her oak tree, there was something hanging. The first rope held a man, someone familiar, but she couldn’t tell at this distance. She walked forward, men looking at her from all angles, wondering what a young girl was doing at such an important event.

She looked at the hanging man closer and her eyes grew large. It was as if she had known who it had been all along. Rita’s father. She froze.

“Rita?” Her father closed in on her, but she stood in place, staring at the figure which was now swinging slightly.

She saw a second rope.

Her life fell from her at that moment. She hated what they had done. She hated what she had done. Her actions, her lies, her fear had led these men to kill Rita and her father. She ran to Momma Guernsey and didn’t seem to stop crying until the next morning.

#

The tree finally fell with splitting crack. Her husband had helped her with this small burden. It did seem to relieve some of the pain.

“So she’s alive then? Rita?”

“Yes… at least she might be. In my fear I had thought the second rope was Rita’s, but it was just my tire swing. I didn’t stay long enough to look.”

“Did you ever see her again, I mean, she could still be out there.”

“Maybe. I might find her if I ever had the guts to look.”

He put his arm over her shoulder. “It seems now is the perfect time.”