Billie's purse

Billie had just spent most of the morning trying to retrieve a purse that was stuck on a precipice of the train trestle. It was upside down and slightly open. Billie took great care to keep the contents inside.

"Whose purse you got there Billie?" Mr. Samuels asked as he drove on the bridge next to the trestle.

"Mrs. Johnson's," Billie replied.

"Widow Johnson? Mr. Samuels asked with exasperation.

"Yes sir. I think it landed here when-" a painful remembrance crossed his face.

"You ain't gotta say it boy," Mr. Samuels said shaking his head. "Everyone still feels horrible about what happened." Mr. Samuels looked at the ground for a moment then puckered up a fake smile that raised his jowls. "Let me help you out. I'll be happy to return it for you."

"Thanks anyway Mr. Samuels but since I found it I kinda feel like it's my duty to return it," said Billie.

"You sure boy? I mean after what Mr. Johnson did to your ma I figure the last person you'd want to see would be a Johnson. I'd be more than happy to return it for you," Mr. Samuels repeated.

"No sir. But if you could tell me where she was today that'd be helpful."

Mr. Samuels wipes his forehead, "She ain't been out much since. She still goes to the diner quite a bit. I'd try there before I went all the way to her house. You want a ride?"

"No thanks Mr. Samuels, I think I'd rather walk."

"Suite yourself boy." Billie started moving towards town. Mr. Samuels turned to his wife, "I can't believe he's gonna bring it back in person."

As the brand new 1939 Ford passed Billie and traveled the dirt road towards town Billie could see Mrs. Samuels talking. He recalled his mother's words, "If you want the whole town to know something all you have to do is tell Judith Samuels." From this thought Billie gathered everyone would soon know about the purse.

When the car was out of sight Billie opened the purse again, this time to inspect the contents. Earlier he had opened the purse to identify the owner. Now curiosity was nagging him. Billie began searching the purse for clues to what kind of person Mrs. Johnson was. "Seventeen dollars wow!" Billie had never held so much money in his hands. Before the thoughts of all the stuff he could buy ran through his mind he stuffed all the money back in the pocketbook and removed the pictures. There were only two. The first was an old photograph of a wedding, looked like Mr. and Mrs. Johnson he thought. The other was more recent and pictured Mr. Johnson. Billie frowned; he was now face to face with the man who killed his mother. Long moments passed before Billie could avert his eyes. Billie looked down as tears washed down his face. After a few minutes Billie stopped and wiped his face with his forearm. Again he looked at the picture of Mr. Johnson. On the back of the picture was the inscription, "To my darling wife, you're the best."

On the other bank Billie could still see the scars in the hillside where the tow truck had pulled Mr. Johnson's truck from the creek bed. Billie had seen what was left of the truck. His memory was burned with the image of the huge dent on the front of the truck, where the truck hit his mother. The other impression was of the cab of the truck, squished flat. No longer would Billie think of the trestle as exciting place. But now this trestle was just a cold and lonely place.



Mr. and Mrs. Samuels parked their car in front of the diner. They could see Mrs. Johnson sitting in a booth, alone. Mrs. Johnson had frequented the diner quite often since her husband's demise. Since she was alone now, she always asked to be seated in a booth with a window view. Today, as usual nowadays, Emma Johnson nibbled at a cold sandwich and stared out the window.

It wasn't long before Mrs. Samuels had told Cora the waitress about their encounter with Billie. Cora then passed the headline along to the other patrons. Each of them in turn would pay a visit to Mrs. Samuels' table for all the details. Word was spreading and soon the diner would fill to capacity.

Emma could hear them whispering, same as they had for the last few weeks. Some stopped by her 'Festivities' store, others sent cards and flowers to express their condolences. Emma hated her new social position, widow. Tom Johnson was her life. Now her life was empty and Emma was more alone than her heart could bear.


Billie had torn himself from the scene and had arrived in town. Walking down Main Street Billie stopped in front of the drug store. He put his nose to the window and peered inside. The new issue of Superman was there. It was his favorite comic book. In the last month Billie identified even more with Superman. Superman, like him had lost both of his parents. Superman, also like him, was alone in the world.

Billie also noticed Mr. McDaniel watching him. Usually Mr. McDaniel would chase Billie away, all the while complaining about the prints left on his clean windows. Billie waited for Mr. McDaniel to make a move; instead the short pudgy man turned his head down and continued scribbling with his pencil.

The Superman comic and Mr. McDaniel' passive response emboldened Billie. He opened the door and went inside. Stepping lightly, almost tiptoeing Billie made his way to the comic book. Billie pulled it out and sat cross-legged on the floor. The pages took him away from this small town with the dusty roads. His mind was filled with
Superman the hero, villains and the big city Metropolis. Halfway through the book, Nora Jean who ran the cash register approached Billie. She immediately noticed Billie's face, specifically the dust all smeared from crying.

With a soft voice, "I can ring that up. So you can take it with you, Billie."

"How?" Billie said. He eyed her for a moment, "I don't have any money."

"There should be at least a dime in your momma's purse there?"

"It's not my mother's," said Billie glumly.

"Whose purse is it?" Said Nora Jean inquisitively.

"Mrs. Johnson's," replied Billie. "I'm brining it back to her."

It wasn't too often that Nora Jean was at a loss for words. Billie's humble reply left her staring blankly at Billie. The uncomfortable moment ended when Nora Jean said, "Your credit is good here Billie. You can take the comic book with you."

"Really?" Said Billie, eying Mr. McDaniel over Nora Jean's shoulder.

"Don't you pay him any mind." She stood and offered him her hand. "Here, I'll walk you to the door." Billie didn't look up as they went towards the door. Nora Jean however looked directly at Mr. McDaniel. Her pursed lips and lowered eyebrows was the only hint Mr. McDaniel needed to hold his tongue until the boy had exited.

"What was that all about? How come you didn't ring him out? Who's gonna pay for that?" Mr. McDaniel asked.

"Put it on his tab," replied Nora Jean.

"Credit for a nine year old? Who ever heard of such a thing? What was wrong with the money in the purse?"

"I don't know if there was money in the purse." She turned and looked at him, paused and said, "The purse belongs to Mrs. Johnson. He's bringing back to her."

"Are we running a store here-"

Nora Jean interrupted with a droll monotone, "Oh, stuff it Clem."



Billie, outside the drug store now, pulled his eyes from the comic book and looked up the street towards the diner. The sheriff's car was parked in front of the diner and he could see sheriff Henry looking at him. Billie walked towards him. "Hi, sheriff," Billie said.

"What're you doing with that purse?" Asked the sheriff.

"I'm bringing it back to Mrs. Johnson," replied Billie.

"I don't think that's such a good idea Billie," sheriff Henry said rocking slightly on his heels. "Don't want you starting no fuss with Mrs. Johnson. Word is out Billie and half of the town is in that diner waiting to see the 'Billie and Mrs. Johnson' show."

As usual, sheriff is disagreeable Billie thought. The thought of half of the town in the diner solidified Billie's resolve. Billie loved attention, the more the better. Since the death of his mother, attention was something he'd been missing. "I don't mean to stir up any trouble sheriff. I just want to return her purse."

"Just the same Billie, I'll be takin' that purse from you. That way there definitely won't be any show. Things will all be peaceable and quite like. People won't get to see nothing and you won't upset Mrs. Johnson," said the sheriff.

Billie was looking right at sheriff Henry but didn't say a word. He watched the sheriff adjust his belt under his large belly

"C'mon now. Time's a wasting," sheriff said.

"I can do this myself sheriff. I won't cause no scene, and I'll be respectful," Billie said resolutely.

"No, that won't do. You don't want me to get mad now would ya?" Asked the sheriff. Sheriff Henry stretched out his hand, "Here just place it in my hand." With an air of confidence he jostled his toothpick around his lips.

Billie thought for a moment and took off, running past the sheriff. He ran past the sheriff's car and by the front window of the diner. He was looking back at the sheriff when he passed right in front of Mrs. Johnson's window seat.

She was busy looking out the window. With Billie running away a commotion started in the diner. Mrs. Johnson kept watching Billie while overhearing other voices. "Is that the purse, is that it?" Mrs. Johnson heard. Mrs. Johnson caught sight of the purse as Billie rounded the corner. At once she recognized it, it was the purse in the truck the night of the accident. It took another moment for her to put all the pieces together. Now she understood why the diner was so crowded. They were all there to watch her.

Calmly Mrs. Johnson picked up her new purse, which replaced the one Billie was holding. Mrs. Johnson pulled out two one-dollar bills and laid them on the table. Having eaten the same order here numerous times recently she knew two dollars would cover her tab. Starting to hurry more Mrs. Johnson quickly pulled her things together. Before she could stand the back door flew open and Billie burst through. Halfway to her Billie stopped running. The sheriff, now in the back doorway also stopped. The diner was silent, except for the sheriff trying to catch his breath.

Billie looked around, many familiar faces were here and they were all staring at him. No encouragement could be found in their eyes. Billie meekly made his way over to Mrs. Johnson. "I found your purse," he said. "It was down by the trestle." He held it out for her to take.

Mrs. Johnson was unresponsive and looking directly at Billie. "Everything is still inside. I only looked in to find whose purse it was," Billie said.

Mrs. Johnson's eyes watered and her lip began to tremble. She turned back to the table for a napkin and started to sob.

Billie knew the pain of her cries. It was only a short time ago that he cried the same tears. Billie placed the purse on her table, "I'm sorry Mrs. Johnson." Tense moments passed and when Billie figured Mrs. Johnson was trying to ignore him, he started moving slowly for the front door.

"Billie," she called with a crack in her voice. "Billie, please come and sit with me for a while."

Once Billie sits down opposing her, Emma speaks. "Forgive me Billie. I've been so wrapped up in my grief and loneliness that I haven't given any thought to anything else." She takes a napkin, dips it in her glass and slowly reaches it to Billie's face. "I can see you've been feeling like me."

Billie gave a slight nod, closed his eyes and moved closer to the napkin. Emma started cleaning his face. To Billie, for a moment, it felt like mother had come back to him. The slight murmurs from the diner broke Billie from his moment of bliss and more tears started to well up.

Emma was also touched in the moment. She had spent her life caring for her husband. Since Mr. Johnson's death she was without purpose, until this moment. For a moment she felt useful again. Just as she finished wiping his face the sheriff stopped by the table looking sternly at Billie. Before the sheriff could say a word Emma barked at him, "Get lost sheriff."

The public rebuke stunned the sheriff. Humiliation sank in quickly. Timidly sheriff Henry tried to ignore the rebuke and stated, "My business is with the boy."

"Sheriff, what part of 'get lost' did you not understand?"

Sheriff Henry was flabbergasted by Emma Johnson's audacity. Open mouthed he stood there for a moment as he realized he was in a no-win situation. Absolutely nothing he thought of would put him on top of this minor confrontation. Sheriff Henry bit down hard on his toothpick and turned away for the door. As he did Billie closed his eyes, stuck his tongue out and wiggled his head back and forth.

The rest of the diner, including Emma, burst out laughing. The sheriff knew he was the butt of the joke. He thought it was because he turned and walked away. Several days later he found out that Billie's tongue started the eruption.

When the laughter died down Billie and Emma sat smiling at each other. "You hungry Billie?"

Billie nodded, "Can I have some blueberry pie?"

"Cora, bring us some blueberry pie please." Emma resisted the urge to say no, even though the boy should have some real food she thought. A few minutes later she gave in again and called Cora for some ice cream. "Where are you staying Billie?"

"I've been over at Parson Shim's," Billie replied in between spoonfuls of ice cream.

If Billie had been looking up he would have seen disappointment in Emma. "Are they planning on keeping you permanent like?"

With a tilt of his head Billie said, "I hope not. It's not much fun over there. Work, chores, pray and sleep. I never get to do anything."

"Is there anyplace else you could go?"

"Parson said if I didn't like it at his place I should go find an orphanage that might take my ungrateful-self in. He was kinda matter of fact about it." Billie looked over at the counter again, "More pie?"

"Anything you like dear."

"What about you Mrs. Johnson? Is there an orphanage for you?"

"If I should only be so lucky Billie. For me there's nobody and nothing. My life may as well be over."

Emma had Billie's full attention. He didn't know quite how to respond.

"Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt. Think of it this way Billie, there ain't nothing I can take any real joy in now. Tom was my life." Emma pauses, "Billie I am so sorry about what happened. I can't rightly express how sad I am. Both for my loss and your own."

"I'm sorry too Mrs. Johnson."

Silence overcame their table. Time passed. So much time passed with each reliving memories in their heads that many of the people in the diner left. Cora brought the bill. "Billie, would you walk me home?"

"You mean like a date?"

Emma chuckled, "I don't kiss on the first date young man. So holding my hand is all you can do."

Billie smiled, stood and took Mrs. Johnson's hand. After slow walk around town they arrived at Emma Johnson's house. It was a two-bedroom house. Billie liked it immediately. The yard was huge with climbing trees all around. "Mr. Johnson was a good provider. All I could want is here, except love." Emma bent down and sat on the front porch swing. "If I can't share my life with someone Billie I don't know what I'll do."

Billie was silent. Mrs. Johnson decided to be more direct. "Billie, would you like to come stay with me?"

"For real?"

"Yes Billie. You'll have to mind me and do your chores but I can promise I'll be more fun than Parson Shim."

"Will you buy me Superman comics Mrs. Johnson?"

"Billie, why don't you call me Aunt Emma instead?"

"OK, Aunt Emma." Billie looked expectantly at Emma. "Superman?"

"Oh yes," she said.

"I owe Nora Jean a dime for this one, it's my favorite. Superman is just like us."

"How so Billie?"

"He's alone in the world."

"Not anymore Billie. We have each other now."


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