Terapin Lane

Its not a long path, you know. It stretches just a half mile between the end of town and the highway.  Daddy says unmarked roads like that are all over Beaufort. But he don’t know this one’s special. Least once a year it is.

Bet more people would know about the turtles if they drove this way, but most folks don’t take a road with no name. Plus and besides that, it’s August and the grass is so high along the way you’d never come here unless you had a reason. And you were brave.

I have a reason, and I’m very brave no matter what Puddle says. Puddle tells me ‘Nitty, you got no business walking that road with all those deer everywhere carrying ticks ’n whatever’. But my big brother is too dumb to realize ticks don’t like the taste of me. They don’t, that’s a fact. Once I tried to let a tick bite me, just to see what’d happen. I put him in my hand, on my arm, even in my hair. Nothing. But then I put him on our dog Tangerine and the tick bit right in.

When daddy found out what happened he yelled at me like I robbed a bank, but Tangerine still loves me and lets me pet her. Puddle don’t like Tangerine because just like me, she’s also smarter than Puddle. We call him Puddle on account of how he’s always getting himself soaking wet in the creek trying to catch fish and then he leaves a puddle anywhere he stands still in the house. His real name is Leland, but he hates that name. He’s so dumb he prefers Puddle when we didn’t even mean it as a compliment. He’s dumb as corn, Puddle.

He don’t believe me about the turtles either. Nobody but Tangerine believes me. But I can’t bring her here to see the turtles today on account of she gets all barky when she sees any other animal. I think a thousand turtles would make her so crazy she’d bark in her sleep. Dogs dream, that’s a fact.

Anyways.

The turtles come around 6pm every August 7th rain or shine. I first saw them 3 years ago when I was out here digging up worms for fishing. I didn’t know why a bunch of turtles would start coming up out of a grassed-over ditch and start just crossing the road, but by dumb luck I was here the same day the next year and there they was again. I went home and marked the calendar and came back the next year just to see if they were particular to that day. Sure enough, there they were like the last 2 years crossing that one spot on the road for about a half hour. I figure a half hour because its takes about as long as one of my dad’s shows he’s always laughing at. Well, people on the show are laughing, but not daddy. He just falls asleep in front of the TV. When mommy was alive she used to tell me to shush up and let him sleep. “He’s been threshing the whole baby Jesus day, so you let him be Nitty!” she’d scold me. Any time she whipped out the baby Jesus we knew she’d run out of her patience. Nitty’s my nickname on account of how gritty I always am. Pastor Grey said I was good for nitty-gritty work one day when we was cleaning the church tower. Daddy heard it and since then I’m Nitty. I like my nickname very much, thank you.

Anyways, I got all I need. An old watch uncle Tate gave me so I can know how long a half hour is, and one of his old canvas bags for collecting dirt. Then I got a bucket for water so’s my turtle can swim a little while I bring it home. It’ll be better off than dead in the grass on the other side of the road with all the other turtles that cross and die each year. Sad they all die like that. I get that feeling they’re kinda lost when they get here and don’t have things they need. If I can see where they’re coming from maybe I figure out how to keep my turtle alive here in North Carolina. Picking one will be hard. They’re all so cute.

Its almost time, and good thing, too cuz even though its late in the day, the sun is bright and hot and the mosquitoes are humming by my ears. As I walk the road the grass leans over and tickles my face while I change the way my hat sits on my head to block the sun. Every bug for a mile around makes its noise louder than I’ve ever heard. When I kick off down the road toward my special place a half million grasshoppers bounce through the air like they wanna welcome me. Some of them land in the bucket by accident, but I leave ‘em there. I know right where the turtles will show up on account of I wrote down what to look for two years ago when I saw them the first time. I see the rusted old NO TRESPASSING sign, and walk behind it into the old grass field is where all the dead turtles end up. Mostly crows attack them, sometimes hawks. Daddy always says ‘everyone’s gotta eat round here’ so I never try to stop those birds. Except today. I think if the crows can eat all those little turtles, I can keep one for my own.

Old turtle shells are everywhere hidden in the grass. So many I can’t count them or see the ground in some places. They must go on for a mile into the trees. Last year I just sat on top of the old shells and watched as a new turtles wandered by. Crows were everywhere swooping down and flapping like maniacs, fighting over turtles which just shows how corn-dumb a crow is since there were plenty of turtles.

This year its time to see where they come from, so I’m not sitting. Any minute now a bunch of turtles are gonna come outta the grass across the road and come to me. Maybe the bugs know about this because they start to quiet down as though they’re waiting for them, too. I close my eyes and enjoy the shade from my sunhat.

The bugs get so quiet I can hear the breeze pass over my sweaty neck. And off down the road I hear the last thing I ever thought I’d hear, an engine.

I just drop cold to the ground. Don’t want anybody seeing me here with all my stuff. What if they know what I know? I never even thought about anyone else knowing the exact day and spot the turtles come out on. As the engine gets louder I crawl on my belly backward through the grass knocking around old shells.

You know that sound an engine makes when its slowing down? That sound makes me stop moving altogether but I can feel the heat of the sun on my legs, so I must be uncovered. Sure enough, I’ve backed up to a bald spot with no grass to cover me. And stopping on the road about 20 feet away is Pastor Grey’s church van. He’s just looking right at me all trying to hide in a bunch of nothing with a half billion turtle shells everywhere.

“Whosat? Clara Grainger, that you?”

He don’t have his glasses on.

“Yeah, pastor, its me, Clara.”

I know you ain’t supposed to lie. Most specially to a pastor cuz thats like a double sin. But pastor always tells me how God forgives everybody so maybe God won’t mind this all that much.

“Don’t sound like you, Clara”

“I got a cold, Pastor.”

2 lies. Now I’m gonna be in trouble. 

“Whatcha doing out here with a cold, young lady?”

“Catchin, um, catchin lures.”

3 Lies. Baby jesus trouble.

“Clara you best come with me and I’ll take you home.”

“Pastor, my daddy is gonna pick me up when he’s done at the outfitters and if I’m not here he’s gonna worry”.

God, if you’re not too mad at me for all that lying I just committed, can you send Pastor Grey on his way so’s I can watch my turtles?

“Well, Clara, I’ll stay here until your daddy gets here.”

Oh no. I see them. The first turtles crawling up out of the grass. Right on the other side of the church bus, and coming this way.

“But Pastor, daddy’s gonna be a while. Maybe you could just check on me when you come back this way.” If I’m gone you know I’m ok. I’m just catching lures til daddy drives by, see? Got my bucket ’n everything right here.”

He stares up the road and then at his watch.

“Clara I’d sure feel better if I knew when your daddy was coming. Don’t seem right leaving you out here.”

God must’ve forgiven me, because down the road is another car. Just gotta let the good pastor know I’m fine.

“There’s my daddy now pastor, I’ll, I’ll see you Sunday!”

I run up the road away from the church bus toward the truck coming in the distance. Grasshoppers launch outta my bucket as I turn to see the pastor wave and start driving off. But of course, the truck that’s coming has to stop now. Red pickup with tires in the bed, old and rusted. The faded paint on the door says “Teagues Salvage”. Tom Teague must be out collecting rubber. I don’t understand how people have a business collecting and selling stuff everyone throws out. He pulls over and hangs his head out the window chewing on his pipe as I walk over to him.

“You lost?”

Tom don’t much know me, but he knows my daddy. Maybe better I don’t mention that.

“No sir, just catching lures is all”.

“Hrmm. Well, you best get off this road. Storm coming.”

I take a look behind his truck at the sky, and sure enough there’s a huge grey monster of a cloud eating up the blue sky. Looks a half hour away.

“Yes, sir. I’m going home now, thank you sir.”

“Which way you live?

I point back up the road.

“Oh, I’m close, but I live the other way.”

“Hrmm.”

And so I wave goodbye to Tom Teague and his junk truck as they narrowly miss a few of the tiny turtles that are crossing the road. I figure my half hour is ticking so I run at top speed toward the turtles soon as Tom is outta sight.

And there they are, hundreds, maybe thousands of turtles, all no bigger than a plum just crossing the road in a panic. Crows are starting to swoop down into the field across the road on the left. Makes me mad, but least I can save one.

I scoop up the first one I can get close to and place her in the bucket. I’ve decided her name is Alice after my momma. Don’t feel right calling a turtle ‘momma’. Alice is a good name and now I’ll miss momma a little less if daddy calls her Alice, too. I’d love to hear him say her name around the house again.

Oh, I just love her. But I gotta get her something from her home so she won’t die. I step off the road and into a current of little turtles so thick on the ground they bury my fishing boots. I wish I could save every one of em. They’re coming out of a deep grass-covered ditch in front of me. It ain’t that steep as I climb into it, and even more turtles scamper past me shuffling their little finny feet, climbing out. A few feet in and the floor levels out into a dark tunnel with raw earth making a low ceiling above me. Can’t tell how far it goes.  I can’t even tell what’s holding it up other than long weeds I’ve never seen before. The way they grow together they look like one of those quilts you can buy at the church fair.

I walk maybe 10 feet in as it gets darker and darker. My watch says its 6:12. My heart starts warning me with a quick beat. I don’t think I got longer than til 6:30. I don’t even know if this tunnel stays open after that so Imma wanna get back fast.

Maybe I should turn around but I look down at her, there in the bucket, looking at me and I just know if I don’t get her some taste of home I may as well feed her to one of them stupid crows.

I race into the darkness across the marshy ground trying to not hurt any turtles on the way until I come to the end of the tunnel. More turtles are pouring down the leafy dirt slope that leads up to the end of the tunnel but it’s not bright and sunny like the end I entered from. As I climb up the slope I see something so ridiculous I stop dead in my tracks and slide back down a bit.

Is that the moon?

Oh baby Jesus, where am I? Turtles are racing past me when I notice the running water sound and I remember why I’m here. I bite my lip and pull myself up out of the ditch to finally see where the turtles come from each year. This place is not real I think. There is a river here. The turtles look like they’re hatching on the shore and half of them head into the river while the other half are wandering into the tunnel back to my side. Guess if half the turtles know to head for the water then I’ll need some of that water, too. For Alice.

“Don’t worry Alice! We gonna get you all set up.”

She looks up at me I think. I kneel down next to the riverbank and look around. It’s glowing blue way off in the distance at the water’s edge. Must be almost dawn here. Little lights appear on the water kinda far from me. I scoop water and dirt into Alice’s bucket. I hope she don’t mind how fast I’m working, but my heart is gonna pop out of my chest if I stay here much longer.

My eyes are adjusting finally. Those lights on the river are lanterns on skinny little boats. Its as hot and sticky here just like it is back on my side. Skeeters hum by as I shoo them off my legs and neck.

“Alice, you ok?”

Alice struggles her way up through the wet soil. I think she means to say I’m fine, what’s you’re name?

“I’m Nitty. I wish I knew what you like to eat.”

She goes back to flipping around in the dirt. God please help me get food for Alice. You want her to be with me, right?

I look at the boats and hear the men on them talking. If I had to guess what language they’re speaking I’d say not english. I look at my watch in the moonlight. Looks like 6:18.

I sit and stare as the boats get closer. I don’t know what to do. God, if you want me to put Alice back that’s ok. I will. But I will miss her real bad. I start to think maybe that’s the best thing to do. Just put her back in the water, but this time going the right way with all these other turtles not getting lost in that tunnel.

Just before I put Alice into the river I see it. A slightly bigger turtle crawling along the riverbank 5 feet away from me gnawing on a cricket in the moonlight.

“Hey Alice, is that what y’all eat? Really? Because we got billions of those back home! Maybe I should just get you something to remind you of your home? So you can remember this place?” She looks up like she doesn’t understand. She’s just a baby.

“Alice, you don’t wanna forget something you ain’t never gonna see again. Trust me, I know, but I won’t let that happen to you. Sit tight!”

Grabbing some rocks and shells from the shore I move a bit more into the water. Turtles are swarming everywhere a few feet away as the skinny boats start coming closer, but whoever’s on them can’t see me yet. Alice munches on a leaf I’ve thrown in as one of the boats seems to suddenly be much closer than I thought it was. 

I can’t think of nothing else Alice needs. Time to run back. But this place ain’t familiar and I’m not sure I can recognize where I came from. I hope that tunnel ain’t like a door that closes up or anything. But I think it must be or there’d be turtles and all kinds stuff coming through all year round.

As I move away from the water and back to the grass where I think the tunnel entrance is, I hear one of those boats grinding on to the shore just behind me to my left.

“God please help me, I lost the tunnel! Alice, hold on.”

I hear the boat people coming closer but I’m too scared to turn around and nothing looks familiar.

Tears are starting to well up in my eyes and I think about my daddy. He won’t even know where I am and I just gotta get home because he says he needs me when he’s missing momma and even stupid puddle ain’t so bad that I don’t want to see him again, and also nobody’s even met Alice yet.

The boat crew sees me. Two short men with big round hats point and start running to me.  They seem excited, but all I can do is walk backwards away from them shooing them with my hand. They think I’m waving and as they wave back at me I fall backward into a ditch.

My fall hurts but the ground is soft and wet. Alice’s bucket is on its side next to me.

“Alice! Baby-girl its ok!”

Alice is hiding in her shell inside the bucket and some of the dirt has spilled out. As I look up I realize I’ve fallen into the tunnel. As turtles scamper by me, the two men in round hats look down the hole I fell through and reach their hands out for me. They look sorta Chinese and I can’t understand what they’re saying. I wave and smile. I know I can get home now.

“That’s alright y’all. That’s alright. Thank you!”

As I make for my end of the tunnel they shout louder and louder. I know they’re just trying to help me. I wish I could say something to them they’d understand. So many people have tried to help me today, but I came to help Alice.

As I reach my end of the tunnel the sky is dark, jammed up with rain clouds ready to bust open.

“Alice, we’re back home. We’re safe again.”

As I walk back toward home the rain begins and I look to the open field on my right. Turtles have stopped crossing and the crows are gone. They know its gonna be a big storm probably. And from behind me I hear a truck making its way on the road. I don’t try to hide. As it slows down behind me I see Pastor Grey stick his head out of the car window. He has his glasses now.

“Nitty! Hop in honey, you’ll be soaked before you’re home.”

I don’t know if he’s caught me in my lie or what, but I’d rather just see a face I know right now, so me and Alice get into the truck. I close the rusty old door and sit Alice’s bucket on my lap.

“Thank you, Pastor.”

“Why Nitty, you haven’t see Clara Grainger on this road have you?

“No sir.”

“I was here just a little while ago and she was alone on this road. I came back to make sure she was OK. Why you children like to stalk these deserted roads is beyond me. Let me guess, you were catching lures, too.”

I just sit and watch the rain start to blur the windshield. Pastor Grey puts his hand on my head and pats my damp hair.

“Everything OK, Nitty?”

Tears come down my cheeks as I bite my lip. Pastor Grey turns off the road and into town. He pulls into the soda shop parking lot. My face is hot and my nose is running from all the crying. Pastor Grey pulls his hanky out and wipes my face.

“Can’t bring you in all sad like that, Clara Grainger.”

I look up and see Pastor Grey smiling at me. He ain’t mad or nothing about those lies I told.

We sit in the soda shop at the counter and I have a chocolate milkshake, he has an ice cream float. Alice shuffles around in her bucket on the counter.

“Who might your friend be there, Nitty?”

“Alice. Her name is Alice.”

Pastor knew my momma. He read at her funeral. He takes one kind look at me and I start to crying again. He pulls me in with his arm and I cry into his shirt.

“You’ll see her again, Nitty. You know that, right?”

I do know it, but I can’t talk. I just nod my head, cry and simmer down a little. Pastor Grey orders me another milkshake. We sit quiet until it comes.

“And where’d you find Alice?”

I wipe my face off and take a big sip.

“She was on that road. Crows coulda got her.”

“So you rescued her. Here I thought you needed help and instead you’re the hero.”

I’ve never thought I was a hero. I don’t feel like one all sobbing and carrying on in a soda shop. Pastor Grey pushes a sweat-dried lock of hair out of my face and looks at me with his old eyes. He smiles and leaves some money on the counter.

“You coming, Nitty?”

I take Alice and wipe my sticky face on a paper napkin.

“I can get home on my own Pastor. Thanks for the sweets.”

“Don’t go back on that road tonight, Nitty. Deal?”

“No, sir. I won’t.”

“Maybe wait until this time next year, hm? Maybe get Alice a friend?”

My eyes go wide. Pastor Grey winks and watches me as I leave the soda shop and walk under the shop awnings to stay out of the rain. He knows I live just at the end of the street. He watches everybody. I think he’s looking for people to help. I guess that’s why he found me. He knows where little Alice came from. Maybe he’s gone over there to that place in the moonlight, too. Well, its our secret now. We are heroes, and we are secret.