Music Of Home

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Copyright

  ISBN 978-1-59789-010-6

  Copyright © 2007 by Tamela Hancock Murray. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  North Carolina, 1934

  Singing a mountain ballad, Drusie Fields looked upon the audience at the church social. The meeting hall was filled with people who had known her since she was born. Drusie’s friends and family encouraged her love for singing, applauding every time she performed. She played the banjo and sang, recognizing sweetness in her voice.

  Drusie wore her favorite Sunday dress, sewn from red and white polka-dotted flour-sack material and fashioned from a store-bought pattern. In such splendor, Drusie felt she could hold her own with any other girl in the room. She surveyed the crowd and noticed most of the women were dressed in clothing they had sewn themselves, although a few wore outfits ordered from the Wish Book.

  Only two of the men stood out to her eyes: Pa, who whistled and clapped, and the love of her life, Gladdie Gordon. She didn’t have to search long for Gladdie. His manly face, so easy on the eyes, caught her attention. She smiled at him, noticing his dark hair shining in the dim lights. Applauding for all he was worth, he mouthed the title of a well-loved mountain song.

  As usual, he had chosen one of her favorites, “This Is Like Heaven to Me.” Drusie smiled and nodded. “This next number is dedicated to Gladdie Gordon. I think y’all are familiar with the tune.”

  On her banjo, Drusie strummed the first notes of the song he requested, and the rest of the band joined her. Approving claps resonated throughout the small wooden structure that served as a church, meeting hall, and schoolhouse for their Appalachian community.

  Drusie hit the high notes with ease. Hearing her sister Clara join her in harmony pleased Drusie. Everybody said they looked perfect together on stage, with Drusie’s dark locks and pale complexion complementing Clara’s lighter hair and sharp features. Drusie sang as though she were performing for Gladdie and Gladdie alone. She couldn’t help it. She loved him.

  The song ended, and Uncle Martin shouted above roaring applause, “Sing it one more time, Drusie!”

  “Again?” she teased. “Why, you’re like to wear me plumb out tonight!” Despite her protests, she felt flattered and had every intention of singing for the crowd as long as they asked.

  Drusie noticed Aunt Irma and recalled her recent comment that Drusie looked just like her mother. Ma didn’t have a streak of gray in her black hair nor a wrinkle on her petite face. Pa said her eyes were still as blue as the day they were married.

  Not that Ma did so bad for herself when she married Pa. Years of working hard as a lumberjack hadn’t broken his spirit. Both of her parents were wiry and had passed on that build to Drusie and her five sisters. Pa always said he never stood a chance of getting a word in edgewise with all those womenfolk around, but she could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he liked it that way.

  Old Mr. Harper called out, reminding her she remained onstage. “How about singin’ ‘Amazing Grace’?”

  Drusie gave her audience a good-natured nod. Clara nodded in turn, and the band played the chorus before the sisters sang the first verse. The room fell silent as they listened to the hymn of gratitude and repentance.

  Drusie figured that would be the last song of the night, but the crowd wanted more. Tired but elated, Drusie was glad when Silas stepped up and played “Flop-Eared Mule,” showing off for all he was worth. The crowd clapped in time.

  She made her way toward Gladdie, feeling safe in his nearness. He’d shined up his hair with tonic and shaved closely. His arresting features caught the eyes of more than one girl even though everyone in these parts had known him forever. But everyone there also knew that he was hers, and she stood by him, her erect posture demonstrating pride.

  He gave her a sideways grin. “You gonna take back to the stage after Silas finishes showin’ off?”

  “Again? Why, I’m about played out.”

  “You’ll never play out, Drusie. That sweet voice can go on and on. Especially when you’re singin’ for the Lord.”

  She drew closer to him and looked him full in the face. “I love singin’ for Him, darlin’.”

  He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you mightily, Drusie Fields. Your devotion to God is one of the reasons I’ve loved you since we was nothin’ but kids.”

  She smiled shyly. Looking up, Drusie noticed Edna Sue glancing Gladdie’s way. She resisted the temptation to narrow her eyes at the girl who wanted to be her rival. From the corner of her eye, Drusie noticed that Gladdie took his glance away from Edna Sue’s as soon as their gazes met. “She’s a bold one.” Drusie swallowed.

  “Too bold for me,” Gladdie said. “You know you’re the only one I have eyes for, Drusie. I wish we could get married today.” He took her by the arm. “Come on. Let’s us go for a walk in the moonlight.”

  She peered around the room. “Will anybody miss us?”

  “I won’t keep you too long.”

  She acquiesced, glad to be away from the covetous eyes of the other girls. As soon as she and Gladdie left through the side door, Drusie noticed the chill of autumn air. Scents of leftover ham and sugary desserts from the potluck dinner still hung in the hall but faded as they walked away.

  Drusie shivered. “Wish I’d’ve thought to bring my shawl.”

  Without hesitation, Gladdie whipped off his suit coat and placed it around her shoulders. The warmth of his body and manly scents of laundry soap and shaving tonic clung to the garment, making Drusie feel cozy and secure as they walked along the narrow moonlit path. It wound through a stand of pines, crossed an open meadow, and eventually led to the old Norman place. Abandoned years ago, the house was reputed to be haunted. For as long as Drusie could remember, local boys tested their bravery in exploring the rickety old abode. But on this night, Drusie and Gladdie wouldn’t be walking far enough to test their courage.

  “I didn’t mean for you to give up your coat for me,” she objected with a shy smile.

  “Sure you did,” he teased. “Naw, I’d’ve given it up for you anyhow.”

  Feeling guilty, she glanced back at the meeting hall and slowed her pace. “Maybe we should go back inside, lest you catch your death of cold.”

  “I’m too strong for that.” He flexed a bicep.

  She giggled and punched his arm too lightly to kill a fly. “Muscles won’t help you none against a cold, silly.”

  “Oh yeah? Then what will?”

  “Come to think of it, I don’t reckon I rightly know. But Sarah May’s studyin’ to be a nurse, so maybe I can find out from her.” Drusie shook her head. “She’s the smart one out of all of us Fields sisters. I cain’t imagine doin’ somethin’ that hard all my life. Havin’ to know all about them medical potions and stuff.”

  “Aw, you’re plenty smart. Smart enough for me. Smarter than I need in a wife.” He placed a protective arm around her shoulders.

  “Stop it, now.” She smiled in spite of herself.

  “You know, I’ve almost got enough money saved up to buy that little weddin’ band with orange blosso
ms in Mr. Goode’s store.”

  She gasped. “You do?” Drusie didn’t bother to conceal her happiness. Gladdie knew her heart. The ring itself didn’t matter. What it symbolized—their forever love—did.

  “I sure enough do. Only, I’d better save up right quick like.”

  “Why?” she managed, even though she was almost scared to ask such a thing.

  “Didn’t you know? Mr. Goode’s been feelin’ right poorly lately, and he wants to go live with his daughter in Raleigh.”

  “Raleigh! A big city like that? Imagine!” Then a thought occurred to her. “But what will we do around here without his store?”

  “We won’t have to find out if I can help it.”

  Drusie didn’t need to ask him what he meant. Gladdie came from a farming family, a hardscrabble life as far as he was concerned. Gladdie wanted a different way of life for himself and his future wife. A life that was a little easier than coaxing crops from the land. “So you’re still of a mind to buy the store.”

  “More mind than money, sad enough. I was hopin’ Mr. Goode could hold off lettin’ go of the store for a couple more years. That would’ve given me longer to save up enough cash to make a down payment, anyway.”

  “Do you reckon there’s anybody else wantin’ to buy the store?”

  “I reckon not, leastways nobody from around here. Well, except for the Moores. They’d love to own the only dry goods store in Sunshine Holler. If they bought Mr. Goode’s place, they’d stamp out the competition.”

  “If you got ahold of the store, you’d be competition, sure enough. You’re good with cipherin’ and details. I know you can keep up with the stock, and I don’t doubt you could remember to the penny who owes the store how much money.”

  Gladdie’s chest puffed ever so slightly. “I sure could. Pa says I’ve got a head for that sorta thing.”

  “That’s right. You can do anything, Gladdie.” Drusie wasn’t flattering her future husband. Her faith in him was sincere.

  “Pa says I got the raw talent, but I got to give Mr. Goode credit. I’ve learned a lot from him by clerkin’ at the store.” He stopped under a large sycamore tree whose trunk had been carved with many initials over the years. Not so long ago, Gladdie had carved his and Drusie’s in a heart. He shuffled his foot in the dirt. “I reckon I’m a silly dreamer. Who’d ever think a boy only a few years outta high school could own his own business, just like that?” He clapped once, punctuating his remark.

  “If anybody can, you can.” Drusie sighed. “I just wish I had enough money saved up to help you buy the store.”

  “I know.” He leaned against the trunk, and his voice became dreamy. “Then we could get married in a hurry and I could build you a house of your very own.”

  “I’d like that. But it would still take awhile for us to get settled even then.”

  “I reckon so.” He studied her, love shining in his eyes. Taking her by the hand, he led her farther down the path. “I wish I could buy you the world. Like pretty dresses. You’re so sweet, you deserve fine clothes. And I’d love to afford a diamond ring for you, even bigger than the one that lady was wearin’ in that picture show we went to see in town last month.”

  Drusie remembered. In anticipation of celebrating her twentieth birthday, Gladdie had saved up enough money for gas to drive them into town in the Gordons’ Model T and pay the nickel admission apiece for them to see the show. Drusie had heard there were talking pictures showing in big cities, but the one they saw was a silent. She couldn’t imagine people talking on film. What was wrong with silent pictures?

  Drusie thought back to the picture they saw. She enjoyed the complicated story of how a rich man fell in love with a poor woman. After many setbacks and tribulations, the man’s family accepted the woman and they lived happily ever after. The woman started out wearing rags that looked worse than a dress Drusie would cut up to make smaller clothes for her nieces. By the time the picture ended, the heroine was wearing fur coats, silk dresses, and big diamond rings. She recalled how the jewels sparkled under the light. Imagine!

  “Wouldn’t you like to have some pretty clothes and things rich folk have?” Gladdie queried.

  She shrugged. “I figure if the good Lord planned for me to live like a rich city woman, He woulda plunked me right in Raleigh. Not here in Sunshine Holler.”

  They had reached the edge of the meadow. Gladdie turned them around so they could start walking back to church. “Not everybody stays put, though. Remember my cousin Archie?”

  She remembered a red-haired youth who’d gone off to make his dreams come true. “The music producer?”

  “That’s him. Archie ain’t got a bad life. He managed to get his education, get outta this here holler, and go on to make good in the city. I wish I had his courage. I reckon that’s what I really mean. I wish I was like him in a lot of ways.”

  “I don’t see a thing in the world wrong with admirin’ somebody, especially somebody who shares your blood. Why don’t you put that admiration to good use? Try developin’ courage on your own, and you’ll be more like Archie.”

  “That’s a grand idea, Drusie.”

  “I don’t know much about that, but I try to encourage you.”

  “And everybody else. I think they named this holler after you—Sunshine—because that’s what you are.”

  ❧

  A few days later, Gladdie knocked on the door of the modest frame house where Drusie lived with her parents and Clara, the only other sister remaining at home. Upon hearing his summoning knock, Drusie set down her basket of clean socks and went to the door.

  “Come on in, Gladdie. I was just about to start in on mendin’, but that can wait.” Drusie was more than happy to have an excuse to delay the hated chore. Her sister Clara didn’t mind repairing little rips and holes in clothes so much, but she was already occupied helping Ma with sweeping and scrubbing the kitchen floor, a task Drusie detested even more than darning. To Drusie’s way of thinking, the floor needed scrubbing entirely too often. Ma took pride in the house that Pa and his brothers had built years ago, and she insisted that they keep it spotless.

  “I know how much you love mendin’,” Gladdie teased. “Once we’re married, I’ll try to be real careful not to get holes in my clothes.”

  Drusie grinned and peered at the sun, which had begun its descent. “I don’t think I’m the only one skippin’ out on chores. Ain’t it about time for you to milk the cows?” Her glance swept his form. “You sure are dressed for it, in them dungarees.”

  He laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to put on nothin’ better. Ma said I could run over here for a minute or two, but not to leave my brothers with all the work. I’ve got to get right on back as soon as I share my news.”

  “If your ma let you get away from your chores, whatever you have to say must be important.” She tilted her head toward two rockers on the porch. “We’d best sit outside. Ma and Clara are scrubbin’, and that means we cain’t let in any dirt for a few days.”

  Gladdie nodded. A gentleman as always, he waited for her to choose a cane-bottomed rocker before he took the one beside it.

  “So your news is right important?” Drusie asked.

  “It is.” Gladdie’s eyes were wide, and his tone of voice conveyed his excitement. “Archie’s comin’ for a visit. We got a letter from him today.”

  “Your cousin Archie?”

  “I don’t know no other Archie.”

  “I suppose not.” A feeling of anticipation tugged at her stomach. “Wonder what brings him here. Did he say?”

  “Just for a visit. Since I’ve always been fond of Archie, I was hopin’ maybe you could set aside Wednesday afternoon to come over. Plan on stayin’ until suppertime, if it’s okay with your ma.”

  “I’m sure that’ll be just fine with Ma. I’ll make sure to get ahead on my chores before then.” She stared at the dirt road winding past the house and breathed in a whiff of clear mountain air tinged with the musky odor of autumn. “I wo
nder if he’ll even remember me. It’s been so long since he took off for the city.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll remember you. But you’ve gotten real grownified since he left. And we weren’t engaged back then.”

  Drusie couldn’t help but notice the pride that colored his voice. “I’ll be on my best behavior, then. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “You never disappoint me.” He rose from his seat. “I have to admit, I do want to show you off.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded. “Bring your banjo. I want him to hear how good we can sing and play around these here parts. He’s been in the city so long he’s probably forgot.”

  “I don’t know. My puny doin’s won’t sound like nothin’ in comparison to a big act in the city.”

  He drew closer and put his arm around her. “Don’t play for him, then. Play for me.”

  She smiled, lingering in the warmth of his presence. “For you, Gladdie, I’ll do anything.”

  She didn’t tell Gladdie at that moment, but a thought had just popped into her mind. A thought he would like very much.

  Two

  On the day of Archie’s visit, Drusie and Gladdie sat on the Gordons’ porch in rockers. Swaying back and forth, Drusie imagined they looked more like a couple of old folks with too much time on their hands than the young people they were. But she felt grateful for the chance to sit in silence with the one she loved. Drusie had been nervous earlier, but the interlude offered a chance to calm down before Archie Gordon arrived.

  Unwilling to let Gladdie know how nervous she felt, Drusie concentrated on the rhythm of swaying. Ever since she’d known the Gordons, these rockers had sat in exactly the same spot on their front porch. They never had been painted, so the bare wood was smooth with wear. Sheltered as they were by the porch overhang, the rockers still displayed the burden of being outdoors since Mr. Gordon made them years ago. Nail heads showed themselves where the arm handles met railings. Every once in a while she rubbed the smooth metal. The presence of the rockers made Drusie feel secure. As long as they remained, so did the Gordons, and the community Drusie called home.