by Ann Hite
“Yes ma’am.” She held on to the words, drawing them out with a sigh.
“Would you rather work in the dining room? We could go through that sideboard.” I didn’t much feel like working either. “How about we take us a walk first. I need to get out.”
Shelly’s face lit up. “Yes ma’am. That sounds real good.”
The sky was so clear and blue that I felt like crying. I was missing Mama. If I brought the subject up with Hobbs, he still growled how he had no use for the “woman.”
Me and Shelly walked into the woods near the hollow tree. We didn’t even speak for the longest time—the river was loud—and we probably wouldn’t have spoken at all if not for seeing that man again, the one I saw in the night. He was standing way down the path.
“Lordy be, I didn’t dream him.”
Shelly straightened her shoulders and looked at me.
“Sir!” I yelled. “Can I help you? Why are you here on my husband’s land?”
Shelly touched my arm. “You see him?” She seemed shocked.
“Who is he?”
The man wore glasses, but he was so far away I couldn’t make out any other details.
Shelly had stopped walking. “He be someone you don’t want to know, ma’am.”
The man stood stock still.
“I want a better look.” I walked toward him.
He moved in the direction of the river.
“I saw you the other night!” I yelled, but he was gone, just like that.
“It’s best we not go to the river, Mrs. Pritchard. It can be dangerous being so high because of the rain.”
I studied her face. “Shelly, you’re afraid of him.”
“Not me.” She didn’t look me in the eye.
“And don’t call me Mrs. Pritchard!”
Shelly gave me a mean look. “I’m not getting my tail whipped because of you.”
“Then call me Miss Nellie.”
She looked around. “I reckon.”
“Good.” I walked closer. “Now, tell me why that man is here.”
“Well, I guess because he had a falling-out with Hobbs, or that’s what folks claim.”
“So you know him?”
She didn’t look at me. “No, can’t say I ever spoke to him.”
“What kind of falling-out did him and Hobbs have?”
This time she met my stare. “I ain’t going to talk about Hobbs Pritchard behind his back. I ain’t stupid. No disrespect intended.”
“Hobbs wouldn’t hurt you, Shelly.” We were walking side by side.
She looked at me like I lost my mind. “Don’t take no hurt on this, but there’s a lot you don’t know about your husband.” She let this sink in. “I reckon you better take me on back to that dern house so you can work me some. I ain’t a good liar.”
I studied her for a minute. I bet she knew about that girl in Asheville. “I know folks have a quarrel with him.”
“Yes ma’am.” Shelly grinned and broke into a run. “If you is so young like me why don’t you race me to the house?”
I broke into a run, giggling like a schoolgirl. The world passed by me in a blur. Wonder if I could run right off that mountain? Then I thought of the man we seen in the woods. What did Hobbs do to him? What kind of husband had folks roaming on his farm looking for him, anyway?
Six
Hobbs had two boys come to the house and chop wood for the winter. The job should have been done in the summer so the wood could cure, but seeing how Hobbs had no idea we’d be marrying and moving in the house, he could be forgiven. But I was a little nervous about a mountain winter without plenty of wood.
“Don’t be silly, Nellie. I can get all the cured wood I want. You won’t be cold this winter.” He was knocking around the kitchen while I cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast. I wanted to ask him why he didn’t just buy all the wood and not bother with them boys, but I kept them thoughts tight in my head. Wasn’t no use to cause trouble. Like Aunt Ida said, he had his ways. I’d seen them that very morning when he found where Shelly left a cleaning rag in the dining room and promised to beat her. I told him it was my rag and for a minute I thought he’d slap my nose off my face.
“Where did them boys come from?” The bacon popped grease on my arm. I dearly hated bacon. The boys were Connors, but I wanted to hear Hobbs’s answer. I was still thinking on all Shelly had said or hadn’t said.
“The tall one is Maynard and the short one is Oshie. Both of them are Connors. At least they see some reason, but their daddy don’t. He’d beat them if he knew they were here. I can’t figure why they agreed to come.”
“How much is their pay?” I placed the platter of bacon on the table.
Hobbs threw his head back in a big laugh like I’d told some kind of joke. “I don’t pay for work, Nellie. People pay me. You’re dumber than a mule.”
The words stung like one of those switches Daddy used on my bare legs when I was young and did something wrong. He’d send me out into the yard to find a switch that had a good snap to it. “I just thought since they’re working for us …”
“Well, I didn’t marry you to think, now did I?” He pulled me to him, and I nearly dropped the basket of raw eggs. “You’re funny, Nellie. Just keep entertaining me and I’ll stay around.”
“What do you mean? Are you going somewhere?” Heat moved through my face.
His grin made him hard to figure. “I got to work sometime, Nellie.”
Now he had a good point. “What kind of work, Hobbs?” That was a stupid question for a wife to ask her husband. “You don’t farm.”
Again he threw back his head and laughed in a mean way. “I’d rather die. I’m a businessman. It’s tough to do business up here, so I travel around. You’re going to have to get used to that now, sweetie. I just can’t sit here all the time.”
He hadn’t sat at home. A big lump got stuck in my throat. I counted the eggs in the bowl. Hobbs had brought them home from someone who owed him money. He was smart like that. Mama would call him slick. “I thought maybe we could have Mama come visit.” I drew in my breath and cracked each one of the eggs into the cast-iron skillet.
“That woman wouldn’t even come to our wedding. I can’t tolerate her. You don’t need to be talking to her.” He piled a bunch of bacon on his plate. “You got all you need right here on this mountain. Just put that nonsense out of your head. You don’t need your mama like some baby girl.”
The eggs went to bubbling in the pan. I kept my mouth closed tight. What was I thinking? Mama hurt him, and who could blame him for being upset? Some folks weren’t as easy to forgive as me. I looked at the side of his face. How in the world had I got such a fine man to notice me? He could have had any number of girls with his charms. If Hobbs hadn’t come along, who would have? He was mine.
“When you leaving?” I scraped the eggs onto a plate.
“Now, don’t go worrying on that. I’ll let you know in plenty of time. Is that why you want your mama? You’re going to miss old Hobbs too much? You need him to protect you.” Little bits of bacon flew out of his mouth as he pulled me on his lap. “I picked you cause you’re strong. You’ll be fine when I go away.” He pinched my leg. I looked away to hide the tears.
“Now, let’s eat. I got to visit the Connor farm and I ain’t relishing the idea. Will you be okay here with them boys?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” All them mixed-up thoughts rushed out with a attitude.
But Hobbs didn’t notice. “Those boys don’t like me much, but they listen to reason.”
“I can’t see they would cause anyone a bit of harm.”
He looked at me a little sharp. “Whether you’ve noticed or not, folks up here don’t care for me. So you got to be careful, Nellie. They’re jealous cause I’ve made something out of myself. I can’t help I got some sense.”
“Why are they jealous?”
“Ain’t nothing for you to trouble your little mind over.” He slapped me on the bottom.
After b
reakfast Hobbs took out of the house like it was going to fall in on him, but not before he warned me to stay away from the Connor boys. I stood in the kitchen window and watched them work their fool heads off. They weren’t talking or even looking at each other like most brothers would when saddled with a day’s work. It looked to me like they needed some cheering up. And I was a grown-up woman with just as much sense as Hobbs. I could take care of myself.
Them boys stopped their chopping and watched me pick my way across the yard, balancing overloaded plates of eggs and bacon. Didn’t their mama teach them any manners? “I have some breakfast for you.”
Both looked at me like I was some kind of ghost.
“I have plenty of milk too, but my hands are so full I couldn’t tote it.” They stood there like a couple of dummies.
The oldest boy took off his hat. “I’m Maynard Connor, ma’am, and this here is my brother without a stitch of manners, Oshie.” He grabbed the cap off of Oshie’s head and slapped it at him. “I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but we can’t eat your food.”
“I’m a good cook. Don’t you believe a thing my husband says. He likes to joke. You have to get used to his ways.”
Oshie gave me a disgusted look. “We know all about Hobbs Pritchard’s ways, ma’am.”
“My name is Nellie. I come from Asheville.”
Maynard nodded. “We know, but you need to get back in that house with your food before Hobbs catches you.”
“That’s no way to act.” The words popped out of my mouth. “He don’t care if you eat his food.”
Oshie laughed mean-like. “He’d rather feed that food to some old hogs than give it to us.”
Maynard nodded and spoke gentle as if my mind was unhinged. “We’re beholding to the thought, ma’am, but it’s best you go on back in that house and not talk to us no more.”
“Yeah, if you don’t care nothing about yourself, at least think of us. Hobbs would kill us dead for talking to you.” Oshie looked at me like I had some kind of disease.
I opened my mouth to argue with them about how Hobbs wasn’t and couldn’t be like they said, but I saw in them boys a truth that couldn’t be denied. I nodded and turned, but something stopped me dead in my tracks, and I whipped back around.
“I ain’t like that. My mama taught me manners and how to treat folks when they offered me good Christian thoughts.”
Oshie puffed up. “We don’t need your Christian thoughts.”
Tears stung the back of my throat.
Maynard took a step forward. “It ain’t got a thing to do with you, Mrs. Pritchard.”
And there it was, the Mrs. part. I was changed whether I wanted to be or not. I only nodded and went back to the house, where I dumped the food in the trash. It was a pure sin with so many souls hungry, but them boys were too proud and stubborn to take my kindness.
Seven
Hobbs was in the habit of sleeping a big part of Saturday and Sunday. This was probably caused from his late hours. The weekend seemed to always bring some emergency that called him away to a neighboring farm. And so I wasn’t a bit surprised to see a man standing outside one chilly Saturday at dusk.
“Who is that out in the drive, Hobbs?”
Hobbs stood behind me to look out the window. He smelled like pine trees. I leaned back against him. For a second, he relaxed into me. “That’s Harper Wallace. He works for me. There must be some kind of trouble.” He pushed me away with a light touch.
“What kind of trouble is it this time?” My words had a tired, run-down sound.
Hobbs’s look turned dark and he wrapped his large hand around my wrist, pulling me close to his face. “You got some kind of attitude? My business ain’t your problem. I told you there was trouble. That’s all I need to say.”
My throat closed. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
His grip tightened. He could snap my bone without much effort. “I work while you sit around this house doing nothing much, some little colored girl cleaning. Just shut up and leave me alone.” His fingers left prints on my skin.
Part of me wanted to tell him that he could go to hell. The other part wanted him to be the man I met in Asheville, the one who saved me from a life of serving.
“Now, don’t go getting your feelings hurt, or I’ll have to stay here and love on you. My work will go down the drain. We got to have money.”
“Go on and look after things.” In that instant, I wanted him to leave and not come back.
“Don’t worry, now. I’ll be back before sunup and I’ll wake you.”
And he was true to his word.
Hobbs crawled into bed around dawn, giving me whiskey kisses. I tolerated it until he turned over on his back and snored louder than ever. Men drank and women turned their heads. Mama and Daddy taught me that.
That’s when I decided I would go visit the First Episcopal Church of Black Mountain. I thought it was funny that such a small town would have a first anything since they didn’t even have a second. I was missing that old soup line back at home something terrible. See, when I was there I had a purpose, a reason to put my feet on the floor each morning. Shoot, on most days on the mountain, I could have crawled back in the bed after Hobbs left and stayed all day. Nobody cared. All I did was wander around that big house all day, dusting a few trinkets, sweeping a floor, and cooking supper. There wasn’t even any mending to be done or a book to read.
The icy air bit my arms through my thin sweater. But walking helped warm me. When I reached the church, folks had begun to stroll through the door. The sound of the bell up in the tower vibrated through my body, bong, bong, bong. The boy ringing it swung into the air with each pull on the rope. I closed my eyes so tight my church back home appeared. Bong, bong, bong.
“What are you smiling at, Mrs. Pritchard?”
My eyes fluttered open and Jack stood before me, grinning.
“I like the bell.” I didn’t even know his last name.
“I wondered how long it would take you to visit our little church.”
“How’d you know I’d come?” I tried not to look into his green stare.
“You struck me as a churchgoer the first day I met you.” He took off his wide hat. His hair was sparse in the front, which made him look older than Hobbs. “Hobbs ain’t going to take to you visiting the church.” He winked. “But I’m sure he’s still sleeping off his work emergency, right?” He looked at the people passing us. “You don’t have to worry about these folks. They’ll keep your secret.”
Again my cheeks went red. “I’m not going to hide my churchgoing.”
Jack laughed. “Mrs. Pritchard, you got some guts.” He guided me through the door. He smelled like fresh soap.
Folks turned their heads as we scooted into one of the shiny pews. “These are nice.” I ran my hand along the silky wood.
The church was filled slap full of people. Most I recognized from riding with Hobbs on rent-collection day. If they looked at me—most of them avoided that—it was with a frown on their face. One of the women was dressed better than the others. She held her back straight and her head high. Her dress was store-bought from a city bigger than Asheville. Her daughter could have worn rags and still been beautiful.
“That’s the preacher’s wife. She fancies herself a writer. Never read anything she’s put on paper. She don’t fit in too good,” Jack whispered. My ear tingled with his breath.
The choir began to sing, and I lost myself in the words of those old hymns that I’d been hearing every Sunday since I could remember. The pastor stood at the pulpit, handsome in a city sort of way, and began to preach. Though he screamed with passion, his sermon was as dry as three-day-old bread. That was a true shame because he was telling my favorite story about Lot’s wife looking back and turning into a pillar of salt. Mama always said that woman should have looked into the future and not back over her shoulder into what was gone for good.
At the end of the service I accepted the offered ride from Jack and stepped out the back
door. Maynard Connor stood next to a small rise. For a minute we looked at a stream of clear water shooting from a small pipe. Folks were talking, going on about their after-church socializing.
Maynard picked up a beaten tin cup and let the water splash into it. He held it between us, and for a second I thought he would place the rim to my lips. This was one of those moments Mama had talked about, where time stood quiet and glowed gold around the edges. But then he placed the cup to his own mouth and drank deep. The spring water splashed from the pipe. When Maynard was finished, he wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve.
“This here is a special spring. I’m sure Hobbs ain’t never told you about it.” The water sent ripples in the small puddle on the ground. “It’s blessed by God.” His face was calm and handsome.
He placed the cup back where it belonged. “Even Pastor Dobbins has to admit the miracle he saw.”
“What miracle?”
“Shelly Parker. Ask her sometime.” The water sparkled in the sun.
“Why are you drinking from this spring?”
He looked older than the first time I saw him. “You’ll know before too long, Mrs. Pritchard. You’ll understand and remember sometimes to do good a person has to do something bad. It can’t be helped.”
Oshie ran out from beside the church and stopped dead still. “You got to come on, Daddy said so.” He tipped his hat to me. “Is Hobbs with you?”
Jack laughed from behind me. “That’ll be the day.”
Oshie relaxed.
Maynard gave me a sideways glance. “Got to go, Mrs. Pritchard.”
“It was good talking to you, Mr. Connor.”
I watched the brothers walk off.
“What was that all about?” Jack touched my arm.
Maynard’s words floated in my thoughts. “I think Maynard would be a good friend if he could.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “When did you meet him?”
“Him and his rude brother were cutting wood for Hobbs the other day.”
“I bet their daddy don’t know about that.” He looked down at me. “Stay clear of Hobbs’s business, Nellie.” We walked to the truck.
