by Ruth White
He does not answer me.
“Well, I thought you would never run out of things to say!” I tease him.
He grins at me. Then he clutches my hand firmly and pulls me into the enchanted forest where the sleeping beauty waits for the kiss of the prince. Once we are well hidden by the trees, Eddie brings me to a halt, and runs his hand down the length of my hair. My scalp prickles.
“So soft,” he says.
I stand still while he puts those big hands around my waist just as I fantasized in church. Then he pushes me against a tree, pins me there with his weight, and lowers his face to mine. I can feel every part of his body.
The thought flies through my head that this is the spot where Trula picked me up from the ice to haul me home that day so long ago. Such an odd thing to remember right now. Then there comes a hiccup in time, a tick without a tock. It places me back in that day as a little girl again, cold and lost in the frozen forest. I am looking at that bank of ice on the ridge. But this time I don’t see the sleeping beauty there. I see something else.
Eddie begins kissing my throat as he slides one hand up under my dress. With a shiver I drop back into this warm July day. I manage to place a hand on each of his shoulders and shove as hard as I can. I dislodge him enough to extricate myself from his trap.
“What’s wrong?” he says.
I look up at him. He’s a foot taller than me.
“You’re a jumpy little thing, ain’t you?” he says with a grin.
“This does not feel right,” I mumble.
“What? What’s not right, honey-bunch?”
“This. You. Me. It feels all wrong.”
His brow wrinkles up. “Don’t you want a kiss?”
I can only shake my head and start back toward the house at a brisk walk. He follows.
“What?” he says. “You mad? You want me to go now?”
“Yes, you should go”.
No sooner said than done. Eddie retrieves his guitar and says goodbye. Bea hands him a paper poke with tomatoes in it. Everybody tells him to come again soon. He does not reply. I walk with him as far as Willy’s Road. There we pause, and he looks down at me with an expression of anger and bewilderment.
“Opal may hear about your being here,” I tell him, “but she will not hear it from me.”
He turns and leaves without saying goodbye, and I walk back to the house.
As I come to the porch, they are all still there. Dad is standing at the top of the steps with a look on his face that I know well, and have come to dread. What is he mad about?
“You look like a floozy in that dress,” is what he says to me. “You git up the stairsteps right now and take it off. And if I ever see you in it again, I’ll take a switch to them naked legs.”
Twelve
August, 1928
As summer winds down, Bea, Jewel and I work hard at canning the bounty from the garden before it rots on the vine. We put up what seems like tons of pickles, green beans, butter beans, corn and tomatoes. Then Daniel and Clint come in with three buckets of blackberries, the last of the season. We can some of them and use the rest for jam.
Toward the end of the month Charles, Daniel and I take Abe and the wagon to Call’s to buy our winter supply of dry goods. On Gospel Road we see two cars hauling strangers. I know they are going to Uncle Ben’s for some mysterious purpose, but who knows what?
In the evening my two favorite people, Samuel and Jewel, are with me in the garden cleaning out some of the vegetable beds to make room for winter greens and sweet potatoes. Samuel is not getting much done, as he starts coughing every time he bends over.
Finally I say to him, “Why don’t you sit down over yonder and rest? Jewel and I can do this. You obviously don’t feel well.”
“I’m all right,” he says.
Not a minute later he has another coughing fit, and without a word, he does what I suggested. He sits down by the edge of the garden.
“Now that I have your attention,” I say to him, “will you please tell me what’s going on at Uncle Ben’s?”
He glances at Jewel.
“I know how to keep my mouth shut,” she says. “Tell it.”
“It makes no difference now,” Samuel says. “The word is out. Do y’all know what prohibition is?”
Jewel shakes her head no.
“I do,” I say. “It means that alcohol is against the law.”
“That’s right,” Samuel says, “and Uncle Ben is involved in the illegal liquor trade.”
“What! Uncle Ben sells liquor?” I say.
Jewel stops digging and leans on her hoe. “He’s making moonshine?”
“I don’t know if he’s making liquor or just stocking it and selling it, or both. At any rate, that’s why he fixed the road – to make it more convenient for people to get to his ‘business establishment’. This is common knowledge.”
“If it’s common knowledge, why don’t he get arrested?” Jewel asks.
“Pay-offs,” Samuel says. “That’s how it is everywhere right now. You share your profits with law enforcement, and they stay out of your way.”
“I can’t believe it,” I say.
“What part? The part about Uncle Ben selling it, or the law not doing anything about it?”
“Both. I can’t believe all this has been happening right here on Starr Mountain, and I didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.”
“You’re naïve.”
“I am not as naïve as I used to be,” I say.
“Since Eddie Johns?” he says, and gives me a knowing smile.
“I thought he was real nice,” Jewel says peevishly, “and Lorie ran him off.”
“I saw him and Opal together,” Samuel says. He watches my face for some reaction.
“She can have him,” I say. “He’s a fickle beau.”
“There is talk at the mine about Eddie and his family,” Samuel says.
“What are they saying?”
“Mr. Johns lost his job in Seasons because he couldn’t stay sober. That’s why they left. Mrs. Johns is a drunk too, and the boy is headed that way himself. The girl needs rescuing. Maybe Vic will do that.”
“That can’t be so!” Jewel says. “Eddie’s not like that.”
“I also know that Uncle Ben’s chief supplier in the liquor business is a relative of the Johns from Bluefield,” Samuel continues. “He brings a car full of something every time he comes to visit, and he comes often.”
“That would be Uncle Arch,” I say.
“Do you know him?”
“No, but I know the car. It’s a shiny blue 1925 Chevrolet Superior.”
“Have you been in that car!” Samuel barks.
“Only once,” I say. “It was the night I went to church with Opal and Vic. That’s where I met Eddie and Rose. They brought me home – all of them.”
“Don’t ever step foot in that car again,” Samuel orders.
“You don’t have to tell me that!”
The wheel barrow is full of debris, and Samuel hauls it away.
On returning, he says, “What happened with Eddie? Didn’t you like him?”
“Oh, I liked him. I liked him too much. He gave me chills in my tum.”
Jewel giggles and Samuel grins.
“So, did he get too fresh?” Samuel asks.
I sidestep the question. “I had a vision.”
Samuel laughs. “You mean like a religious experience?”
“Something like that,” I say. “In the blink of an eye I saw myself the wife of a coal miner, pinning clothes on a line, and all these little toddlers, four or five of them, were hanging on to my dresstail.”
Now Samuel and Jewel both laugh out loud.
“That really is a scary picture,” Samuel says.
“It was terrifying. I was in despair. It was too late to choose another life, and I knew that I was in this mess because I had allowed myself to be pulled and pushed and jerked around by a bully and a two-timer.”
“So you ended
that little romance before it could get started?” Samuel says.
“Nipped it in the bud,” say I.
September, 1928
At our first Saturday class of the new school year, a Mr. Evans, arrives with the other teachers. He is younger than Mr. Harmon, but not as handsome. He is also married. With four instructors now, the subjects are divided according to each teacher’s specialty. Mr. Evans is to teach all the math and science and Mr. Harmon will teach all the literature and language skills. The two lady teachers will share the social studies and miscellaneous subjects.
Opal hugs me and says how good it is to see me again, so I think I can safely assume she does not know about my episode with Eddie. Vic tells me he and Rose are going to marry as soon as he graduates highschool. Mr. Harmon asks me how my summer went, and I tell him it was too long and too slow, and I’m ready to go back to work.
“That’s my girl,” he says. “Ready for World Literature?”
“What great minds will we study this year?”
“We’re starting with Shakespeare, then Tolstoy and Hugo.”
When I get home, I find that Samuel is coughing violently. I make him go to bed and carry hot tea to him.
“Do you think it’s bronchitis again?” I ask as I fluff up his pillows.
“No, it’s the coal dust,” he admits. “Go ahead and say you told me so. I’m quitting the mine.”
“Good!” I say. “I just wish you hadn’t waited so long.”
“We’ve had a little money these past few years, Lorelei. We won’t have it anymore.”
“What good is the money if you lose your health?” I say.
He smiles. “You sound more and more grown-up every day.”
“Just rest,” I tell him. “I’ll bring your supper when it’s ready.”
Samuel is sick the whole week, but by Saturday he feels well enough to walk down the mountain with me on my way to class, to spend the day with Caroline, but he’ll be home by dark. He never spends the night at Caroline’s house because of her position as a teacher. The old busy bodies watch her like a hawk.
When my classes are over, I go to Call’s and pick up the mail. There’s a letter from Trula, which I read immediately. She suggests we have one of our reunions at Roxie’s Park before the weather turns cold. Good idea. I will write her back tonight.
I take a nickel out of my bookbag and ask Mr. Call for a pack of school paper. While he is fetching it for me, I hear the bell on the door, which means that somebody is coming in.
I hear Eddie say, “What kind of gum you want, honey-bunch?”
“Spearmint,” Opal says. “Get two packs.”
I take the paper from Mr. Call, throw the nickel on the counter, and duck out the back door of the store before I am spotted. I run around the building and hurry up Gospel Road. I am all the way to Willy’s Road before I remember that when I took the nickel out of my bookbag, I laid the mail down on the counter and left it there. I can only hope that Mr. Call is the one who finds it. He will save it for me. I’m not sure what his wife might do with it.
At home I find Jewel sitting on the front porch, altering a dress she found in the charity bag, and Bea is sitting on the steps shelling pole beans. Charles and the little boys are lying around doing nothing.
I perch on the edge of the porch. “Where’s Dad?”
“He went to buy a pistol,” Bea says.
“A pistol!” I cry. “Where’s the money coming from?”
“He’s trading the black heifer for it,” Charles says.
“Molly? He’s trading a good milk cow for a gun?”
About that time Dad comes into view walking up Willy’s Road. There’s something about his gait that makes me nervous. By the time he reaches the porch, there’s no doubt about it. He is furious about something. He comes up to me and throws a piece of paper in my face. It’s the letter from Trula.
“Mrs. Call said she reckons you forgot this.”
Oh, Lord, Mrs. Call. And the letter was open, so I’m sure she couldn’t resist reading it, and of course Dad read it too.
He glowers at me. “So you’ve been meeting her behind my back?”
I could tell him it’s not just me, but I see no benefit in dragging Samuel and Jewel into this. I say nothing.
“That woman has shamed our family,” he goes on. “And your defiance is a slap in the face.”
That woman? Still he won’t say Trula’s name, even after she has given birth to his first two grandchildren? I remain silent. Bea, Charles, Jewel and the little ones are watching with big eyes.
“You go on now, girl,” Dad says, “and you cut me a good-sized switch.”
“What!”
“I know you ain’t hard of hearing,” Dad says. “So git going.”
“Aw, now, Willy,” Bea objects mildly. “No need for that.”
“You!” Dad raises his voice and shakes a long, knobby finger in Bea’s face. “You stay out of this. It’s none of your business.”
He turns back to me and there is so much anger in his eyes I am shaken. Still I summon all my courage and speak. “Dad, I won’t stand still for your switching like Trula did.”
“I ain’t in the mood for your sassin’!” he yells. “If you don’t go cut me a switch right now, I’ll…I’ll….” He pulls the pistol out of his pocket.
There is a chorus of loud protests.
“No, Dad!”
“Put it away!”
“Don’t point that thing!”
“Willy! What are you doing?”
He seems uncertain for a moment as he looks at the frightened faces around him. Quickly he turns the gun in his hand so that he is gripping the barrel instead of the trigger. “I’ll..I’ll pistol whip you!” he finishes his threat.
Jewel starts to cry, then Clint and Lawrence. The recollection of Trula’s cruel switching comes back to me in all its horror. It’s a memory that haunts me when I wake up in the wee hours. Like the death of Roxie, it’s a wound that never heals. No, I will not let him assault me in any way, not just for my sake, but for Jewel and my little brothers. I will not allow such a memory to haunt them.
Keeping my voice steady and strong, I say to Dad, “You are the only one who has shamed our family, with your meanness and your backward ways. Trula ran away because of you. She couldn’t stand you anymore. And Roxie…Roxie could have….she could have lived, if only you...”
“Don’t you say that!” he interrupts me. “Don’t you dare say that!”
We are all silent for a moment listening to the echo of his booming voice.
But I am not finished. “I heard you praying that morning, Dad. I heard you asking God not to take Roxie. You asked him to take Trula or any one of your other girls instead. Why is it that you can’t love all of your children, Dad?”
Now he is trembling, and his face is white.
“You have only one use for your daughters,” I continue. “We are your slaves – even Roxie, your favorite. She was only fourteen, and she was worn out. She was worked to death.”
“No!” he shouts, as he takes a step closer to me. “Take it back!”
I retreat to a safe distance from him. “All you had to do was walk up the stairs one time and take a look at Roxie to see how sick she was!” Now I am shouting too. “But you put me in charge – me! And I was just a little girl!”
I remember Roxie’s flushed face, her beautiful eyes, dark and hollowed, her poor little body wracked with painful spasms of coughing. “She didn’t have to die! And neither did Mommie!”
“Go..cut..a..switch,” Dad says, but his voice is halting.
Charles goes to Dad’s side. “Come on, Dad,” he says. “Let it go.”
Dad looks at Charles and hollers again, “Let it go? Let it go? Did you hear what she said?”
“She didn’t mean it.” Charles turns to me. “Did you, Lorie?”
“I meant it. I meant every word.”
Then I walk calmly across the yard, past the barn and into the frozen fore
st. There I slump against a tree. I lie down on the ground. When I raise my head again, the sun is almost gone. All I want now is to crawl into my bed in the loft and sleep it away. But what will Dad do to me when I go home? Nobody will come looking for me. Dad won’t let them. So I will go to Willy’s Road and wait for Samuel.
I skirt around the far edge of the pasture. The patch of woods where the Old Thing lives and cries, lies between me and Willy’s Road. I will have to walk through it. I slip quietly into this dark place, almost untouched since time began. Nobody comes in here. It’s lonely and creepy. I make my way through the trees and tangled brush, then settle down at the edge of the woods beside Willy’s Road, where Samuel will have to pass on his way home.
In the blue haze of twilight I burrow into a bed of leaves, lay my head against a tree and wrap my arms around myself. I doze and wake with a start, then doze again.
I dream. The Old Thing towers over me like a mountain, watching me sleep here on the ground. Its tears fall on my face. Then Roxie is bending over me. She pushes my hair away from my eyes. Poor sissy, I’m sorry I had to go. I left you all alone. And she kisses me on the forehead.
I wake up with a cry. I touch my forehead. It is damp with dew…or tears …or a kiss? There is no moon and few stars. In fact, it is so dark, I can’t see my own body, and I am chilled to the bone. I leap from my nest and bump my head on a limb. I feel my way up Willy’s Road. At the rise, I see a light on the porch. I hurry toward it.
I grab the lantern and blow it out before I ease the door open and go inside. I tiptoe across the floor in the big room. Someone rises up in the bed.
“Roxie?” Dad says.
Roxie? I stand still and hold my breath.
“Roxie?” he says again. “Is that you?”
“Sh..hh. Hush now,” Bea says, shushing him as she would one of the children.
I move toward the stairs and climb up to the loft quietly.
“Sweet Rox,” I hear him say as he settles back onto his pillow. “Oh, sweet Rox.”
In the loft Jewel leaps from her bed and falls all over me, crying and whispering. “I couldn’t sleep. I was so worried. Where were you? Did he see you come in?”
Shivering, I kick off my shoes and drop my dress to the floor. “Come on,” I say, and pull Jewel to my bed. “Warm me up.”
