Ghost on Black Mountain

by Ann Hite

  Hobbs was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home. “Where you been?”

  “I went to church.”

  “I don’t like my wife sneaking around.” He stared a hole through me.

  “Going to church ain’t sneaking, Hobbs. Everybody on this mountain was there.”

  “Not me.”

  “No, not you.” I wanted to laugh at him but he’d only take offense and get mad.

  “What did you think?” His voice was calm.

  “I nearly jumped out of my seat with all the screaming. It was one of the worst sermons I’ve sat through.”

  Hobbs smiled with pure pleasure. “Ain’t that what all good Bible-thumping folks want, cleaning of the soul?”

  “I believe in God and going to church. Remember, you found me in a soup kitchen.”

  “You left quick enough.”

  He was right about that.

  “Hobbs! Hobbs!” A racket came from the yard.

  Hobbs pushed past me and threw open the kitchen door. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Harper, coming on Sunday?”

  “Someone set”—he looked at me—“the barn on fire.”

  “What barn?” Our barn was fine.

  “Shit.” Hobbs jumped off the back porch in a run. “Go in the house and lock up, Nellie. Don’t open the door unless it’s me or Jack. Now!”

  I shut the door and turned the skeleton key for the first time since I’d been living there. I stared out the kitchen window. What was Hobbs up to now? The man I’d seen before was standing on the edge of the woods. He wore little round spectacles like a person would have worn a long time before. He stared right at me, into me. Shelly had said I didn’t want to know him. Maybe he set the fire Hobbs was running to. I looked away, and when I looked back, the man was gone. The grass stood tall, not mashed down like it should have been. I stood in front of the window for the longest time, but he didn’t come back. Finally I made some coffee and went to sit in the rocker. The light was dimming. The days were so short in the mountains. Dark found us at five thirty.

  I tried not to think about how life wasn’t exactly like I thought it would be. The whole front room turned cold. My breath came out in little clouds. The fire had gone out. A woman, tall and big boned, moved down the staircase one step at a time. Her skin had a grayish tint. She wore a plain black dress and was shoeless. All I could do was stare. Fifty things went through my mind to say. How in the world did she get in the house? But I couldn’t open my mouth. On the last stair, the woman turned and smiled as if she had always known me.

  I closed my eyes tight until little dots danced around. When I finally found the nerve to look, the woman was gone. The room was warmer.

  “Mama, you said there weren’t no ghosts, but I think you’re wrong.” My words danced around the room. I sat down in the rocker and stayed there for what seemed forever, until a truck barreled down the drive. I threw open the door and ran out into the yard almost crazy with fear and worry. Jack climbed out. One long breath escaped my chest. But, before he could say a word, Hobbs’s truck came up the drive. I sobbed and that wasn’t like me at all.

  Hobbs jumped from the cab and came at me yelling. “What the hell happened? Did he come here? Did he?”

  “Yes, he was standing on the edge of the woods just as you left earlier. It’s the third time I’ve caught him on this land.”

  Jack came closer. “Did you know the man, Nellie?”

  “I ain’t never seen him anywhere but in the woods and this yard. He dresses in clothes my grandpa would have worn.”

  Hobbs looked surprised and his friend Harper looked downright scared. “You didn’t see Maynard Connor!” Hobbs shouted at me. “Did you really see a man?”

  “Yes. I ain’t crazy!” I shouted.

  “We know that, Nellie. You’re scaring her worse, Hobbs.” Jack spoke with a softness Hobbs couldn’t even get close to.

  “Shut the blubbering up.” Hobbs looked like he could run through me.

  “She sure saw something.” Harper gave a little shiver.

  I gained some control.

  “It sounds like Hocket to me, boss.”

  “Shut the hell up, Harper. I ain’t in the mood for some stupid mountain tale.” Hobbs looked over at Jack. “Take her inside. I’ll go have a look. I’m going to kill Maynard Connor when I find him.”

  I gave Jack a long look. Lots of people said stuff like that when they were angry.

  “Come on.” Jack motioned me to the kitchen door.

  I stopped on the porch to gather some firewood and Jack took it from me. “I’ll take care of the fire. You go rest.”

  I nodded.

  Hobbs was sound asleep and the whole house was quiet. At first I thought I was dreaming. Nellie. Nellie. I sat up with a cold chill working down my backbone. He stood in the same place he had been early that evening. The half moon showed on him in a milky-white kind of way. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I didn’t want him to disappear this time. But he never moved.

  “You’ll die too.” The man spoke soft but loud enough for me to hear him over the river in the distance.

  “Why are you here? Why do you keep coming on my husband’s land?”

  The man stepped forward. “The question is, what did your husband do to me, ma’am?”

  “I don’t …”

  He turned and walked into the woods but not before he threw me a warning over his shoulder. “You’re in too deep to leave.” These words floated on the air after he disappeared into the black dark.

  Eight

  I’d been on the mountain for two months. The only person I really talked to was Shelly, who hardly ever talked back but listened to every word. The work on the house was pretty much finished, but I didn’t want her to stop coming. So we worked on some rooms twice; me rattling on about Asheville, and her smiling and nodding.

  A week or so before Thanksgiving, Hobbs came home one chilly afternoon with some news. “I got to go away on business. That fire set me back too far.” His expression told me not to mess with him.

  “How long?” My shoulders slumped.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Don’t start asking me a thousand and one questions.”

  “I just wanted to get an idea—”

  He grabbed the front of my dress and pulled me near his face. “It ain’t none of your business.” Then he pushed me back.

  I bit back the words I wanted to say: Why you got to be so mean?

  “Be a good wife while I’m gone. You stay right here in this house. Don’t be out and about. I got my people watching.” He laughed and went upstairs.

  Good Lord, what did he expect me to do? I had been the wife he wanted. I never asked for one thing except Mama. He came back down the stairs with a shadow across his face. He wouldn’t be home anytime soon. That was clear.

  The day before Thanksgiving, Jack brought me a turkey all ready to go in the oven. “Aunt Ida sure is grumbling about having dinner up here. But it’s good for her. She does too much and bosses everyone.”

  “Maybe Hobbs will make it home for our first Thanksgiving as a family. It looks like we could have the whole mountain up here for dinner.” I patted the turkey.

  “We may just have to do that.” Jack tipped his hat.

  “Tell Aunt Ida not to worry about a thing. I’ve got it under control. I’m going to cook like my mama does every holiday.” The ache started in my chest real sharp like. Was she cooking since I wasn’t there? Knowing her, she was and feeding the whole dern soup line.

  Jack gave a easy laugh. “Oh, Aunt Ida will cook. You couldn’t stop her. We may just have to feed the mountain.”

  “What about the Connors?” The name hung in the air.

  “What about them?” He looked away.

  “Will Maynard come home?”

  “They’ll make do like every year since this Depression began. But they won’t have Maynard. It’s too risky.”

  “Where’d he go?” A lump formed in my throat.

  �
�After that night, he left, went off the mountain. Who knows? He was stupid.”

  See, what Jack or nobody, especially Hobbs, knew was I saw Maynard early the morning after the fire. He was making his way down the mountain, hugging the side of the road. I was walking up the drive. I couldn’t sit in that house and went out for fresh air.

  For a second, he looked like a deer about to be shot, but his shoulders relaxed. “Mrs. Pritchard.” He tipped his hat.

  “Mr. Connor.” I nodded.

  “It was mighty fine knowing you.” He pulled on his brim.

  “Yes sir, it was a pleasure to know you.”

  He walked on by and that was the end of that. I prayed that he’d get far away and never be caught by Hobbs.

  “You know what the old folks say about leaving?” Jack’s words pulled me back to the kitchen.

  If I told him about Maynard, he’d keep my secret. “No.”

  “Once a person leaves the mountain, they never come back, not really. They’re lost forever.” And somehow I knew that to be the truth.

  The work in the kitchen filled my time. I made sweet potato pies, ash potato salad, cornbread dressing, and even some collard greens. On toward evening, clouds moved in across the western sky. A thought took a hold of me. I wrapped one of those pies in a pretty tea towel and set out down the road.

  The Connor cabin was quiet, but I knew many pairs of eyes were watching me as I walked across their yard. The door opened as I reached out to knock.

  The woman looked much older up close. Her forehead was covered in a mess of wrinkles. “Can I help you?” The proper words sliced the air.

  “I brought you a pie for Thanksgiving.”

  The woman looked at the plate like it was death itself. “Why?”

  I took a step back. Why indeed? This wasn’t how I imagined the visit would go. “I wanted to share, be neighborly for the holiday.”

  The woman watched me like I might bare teeth and bite her.

  “I miss my mama,” I blurted like some kind of kid. “She always shared a pie with a neighbor on Thanksgiving. I’m sorry if I bothered you.” I turned to leave.

  “Don’t go away hurt.” The woman’s voice was a tad softer. “But child, you got yourself in one situation when you married Hobbs Pritchard. Don’t you know that? I think you must be a smart girl. You can’t come up this mountain married to the meanest man and expect folks to like you. I bet your mama didn’t want you to marry him.”

  “I just wanted to know if Maynard is okay.”

  The woman’s face turned sad. “It’s your husband that ran my boy off.”

  “What happened?” All of a sudden I needed to know what Maynard did that was so bad.

  “Don’t play dumb.”

  “I don’t know nothing. Hobbs keeps it from me.”

  “He’s a moonshiner, girl, and a thief. It’s the thieving part that makes us hate him. Maynard gave Hobbs something to think on by burning his still. He was looking out for his family.” Her voice grew loud and angry. “I don’t want your pie or nothing Hobbs owns, Missy Mae.” She turned a mean look on me. “You want to know what all he’s done? I don’t think you do, young lady. It’s much easier for you to play dumb. You need to go home before he kills you. He killed his own stepmama even though they couldn’t prove it. Her ghost prowls that house. I’ve seen her looking out the window myself. God rest her good soul. Won’t one soul blame you for leaving the likes of Hobbs Pritchard. Go on home.” She shut the door in my face.

  I stood there for a minute staring at the wood. Then I turned and walked. I walked back down that road as the light turned gray and the sky spit snow. When I was out of sight, I threw that pie, towel and all, as hard as I could into the woods. I thought on that moonshine still and Hobbs killing his stepmama. It was dark when I let myself in the house. There stood the woman I saw before. She smiled and walked right through the wall before I could say a word to her.

  Nellie; again death was whispering in my ear. I jumped out of bed. The world outside was alive with light caused by a thick blanket of snow. Even the sound of the river was muffled. Winter had come sooner than later. The man stood closer to the house this time and looked at me. He took off his cap, gave a little nod, and walked toward the house until I couldn’t see him. I waited, thinking he would knock. But he never did. I went downstairs and the porch was empty. I was seeing things.

  Night left and day came, Thanksgiving. The world outside the window turned hard and cold. I put on my warmest clothes and a pair of Hobbs’s boots, put the turkey in the oven, and hightailed it outside. I would smother if I stayed in that house one more minute. The snow fell, turning the air icy. The water rushed over the rocks not far away. I twirled, a dancer, a child.

  That’s where Jack and Aunt Ida found me when they came to dinner. I was building a snowman. My hands and toes were frozen, but it didn’t matter. Jack laughed, thinking it was all in fun. But Aunt Ida frowned. She knew when she saw a woman giving in to the crazy part of her mind.

  “Did you cook them vegetables?” Her voice was stern.

  I laughed so hard I couldn’t get my breath to answer. Of course I took care of the whole dinner. I was the kind of wife who waited at home until her husband got good and ready to come back.

  Nine

  The next morning I heard a soft knock on the door. Shelly stood on the porch with a bundle in her hand. It wasn’t her day to come clean.

  “Shelly?” The sun hadn’t made it over the tops of the trees yet.

  “I figured you could use some help after dinner and …” She looked away.

  “And what?” I motioned her inside. The cold went straight to my bones.

  “I heard about your visit to the Connors.” She bumped snow off her flimsy shoes and stepped inside so I could close the door.

  “So. And I guess they know I threw a perfectly good pie in the ditch, along with a pretty tea towel?”

  “I didn’t hear nothing about no pie. Actually, Mrs. Connor was the one talking, and she was nice, considering. She said you was just plain stupid when it came to your husband.” She stopped to see if I would get mad.

  “You want some coffee?” I took my cup off the shelf.

  “Mama don’t believe in it. She says money is too hard to come by these days to be wasting it on coffee.”

  Hobbs probably owned every family on the mountain—except the Connors. Taking folks’ coffee and eggs was stealing and pure meanness no matter how I tried to paint the picture. Thinking about how he held the needs of others over their heads made me so mad I could spit. How could I love someone like him? But I wasn’t stupid. I knew if he walked in the door, I’d fall right into his arms. He had some kind of magic over me. Hobbs was to me what whiskey was to Daddy. One glass was never enough for him. He had to drink the whole bottle. I was lost in Hobbs and might never get back to being me.

  “I got some milk. You want some?” Again I noticed the pouch in Shelly’s hand.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I poured her a big cold glass. “Here.” I pointed to the bundle. “What did you bring?”

  Shelly smiled. “This here is from Mama. It’s brick dust. If you sprinkle it in front of each door, bad spirits can’t come in. She says you need it with someone like Hobbs.”

  “Thank you, Shelly. Tell your mama I’m beholding.” Brick dust, how silly was that? “Shelly, tell me about the man we saw in the woods.”

  “Has he come back?”

  “Yes, when Hobbs had the fire.” I looked away. “And the other night.”

  “I done told all I knew. He was before my time. He don’t come visiting me. He visits you.”

  “What do you mean?” A chill went through my body.

  “He’s showing himself to you for some reason, Miss Nellie. Ask him.”

  “Are you saying he’s a spirit?” Something familiar about the questions settled in my mind as if it was the last piece to a large puzzle.

  Shelly kind of laughed. “He’s about as dead as one person can
be.”

  I held up my hand. “I don’t believe in ghosts. I told you that.”

  “You’re the one who brought him up.” She frowned at me.

  “What does he have to do with Hobbs?” I drank my coffee.

  Shelly took her time sipping the milk. “Don’t know.”

  “Why do you hate Hobbs?”

  “Lord be, ma’am, I don’t hate no one.” Shelly sat the half-full glass of milk on the table. “Mama thinks he killed my daddy, Clyde Parker.”

  My head roared. Jack had mentioned him the day I stood outside the barn listening.

  “Now don’t go fretting over what I think. Mama said Daddy was messing in things he knew better than to mess in.” Shelly was quiet for a minute. “Shoot, I wasn’t but five when it happened. I don’t even remember him.” She shrugged. “You can’t be all sad about somebody you never knew.” Her words were almost a whisper.

  “That would have made Hobbs around seventeen. Mrs. Connor said he killed his stepmama.”

  “Mama says some folks are just born bad. He’s one of them. Just be careful. You can’t figure him.”

  “So what spirits come to visit you and what do they say?”

  “This here needs a good cleaning.” Shelly rubbed on the stove. “He ain’t going to let me come much longer. Things are going to get bad.”

  Fingers of dread walked over my scalp. “He don’t care if you’re here.”

  She stopped rubbing the white enamel. “I’ll be close by if you need me. You can go to Mrs. Connor too. She’s nice enough.”

  This made me laugh out loud. What I needed was Mama but I was stuck. If I left and Hobbs came home, he’d throw a fit, chase me down, and punish Mama. How had I come to this knowing? No, I had to stay put to save Mama from getting hurt. And that wasn’t some ghost tale.

  Ten

  That winter on Black Mountain turned out to be colder than any in my whole lifetime. My firewood was running low and still no sign of Hobbs. Christmas was almost on me and this very fact made me sick. Hobbs wasn’t coming home. The thought sat on the very bottom of my heart, right there in the quiet place that I hid from everyone else.