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It wasn't likely I'd ever see such a place. Might as well be the moon.
    Ma sighed and looked at me, seeing me now, the past vanished. I squeezed her hand tightly.
    "Was I—"
    "You were driftin', Ula."
    "Sometimes—sometimes it seems like ..." She hesitated, frowning. "Like I'm no longer here," she whispered. "My poor baby. What—what will you do when I'm—when I'm no longer here?"
    "That—that ain't gonna be for a long, long time," I said firmly, but my voice trembled nevertheless.
    "I saw a redbird this morning," she told me.
    "A cardinal? But, Ma, there ain't no—"
    "I woke up and looked out the window and it was perched on a branch, looking at me—waiting for me, it seemed. It was bright, bright scarlet, the color of—of blood."
    "You must of imagined it. Ma.''
    "It was very beautiful. I—I wasn't afraid."
    "Ma-"
    "I wonder what it means?"
    Ma frowned again, her delicate brows pressing together, and I felt a terrible fear inside. I gnawed my lower lip, still gripping her hand. Several moments passed and then Ma pulled her hand free and placed it above her bosom and then began to cough, pulling out the handkerchief she kept tucked under her pillow. It was large and white and streaked with reddish-brown stains that hadn't been there last night. I quickly fetched another one from the bureau drawer, and she took it and continued to cough wretchedly. When the spell finally subsided, the fresh handkerchief had bright scarlet stains on it. Ma looked up and saw the

    expression on my face and shoved the handkerchief under her pillow. I poured a glass of water for her and she took it with a trembling hand and sipped and finally handed it back to me.
    'Tm all right now," she said.
    **Ma, is there anything I can—"
    "No—no, my darling. I think—I think I'll just rest for a while."
    "Will you be—"
    "I'll be fine, dailing."
    "I'm going to Mama Lou's right away. I'll bring the medicine back. It'll make you feel better."
    She managed a tiny nod. I looked into her eyes.
    "I—I love you. Ma."
    "And I love you, my darling."
    "You're going to get well," I said hoarsely. "I—I intend to see to it. I—" My voice broke.
    Ma attempted another smile, the comers of her lips fluttering weakly, and she lifted a paper-thin hand to stroke my cheek. I leaned down and kissed her brow, and then I left the room, closing the door quietly. I went to the larder and fetched the basket of brown eggs and the block of hard cheese wrapped in oilcloth that I had set aside earlier. I fought back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm me, and I fought back the tears as well. I left the house, moving resolutely past the bam, the shed, the filthy pigsty with the snorting beasts roiling in the mud. I moved past the cypress trees, strands of frail gray Spanish moss brushing my arms and face. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't. I knew if I allowed myself to cry I'd never, never be able to stop.

    Chapter Two
    THE SWAMP WAS A DANGEROUS PLACE, but it held no fears for me. I was familiar with all its dangers, knew how to avoid them, for I had roamed freely through these parts since I was a small child. There were snakes, yes, but the cottonmouths lived in the water, and the other ones didn't bother you if you didn't bother them. The alligators were lazy, sluggish creamres who nestled in the mud along the water's edge like scaly brown-green logs, and they never snapped unless you disturbed them. There was quicksand that could suck you right up and swallow you whole, but anyone who knew anything about the swamp was able to spot those gummy gray-brown bogs immediately. The swamp was a damp, misty place, pale gray and green and tan, with thin yellow rays of sunlight filtering through the thick canopy of limbs above.
    There were wildfiowers, too, clusters of fragile pink and mauve blossoms growing in the shade and, here and there, long vines studded with bell-shaped crimson blooms. Loveliest of all were the wild orchids, hard to find but exquisite. Most were