by Ann Hite
He had a look of complete confusion.
“Do you?”
“I say it every time I provide for you. This ring here says it most of all.”
“You ain’t never said it.”
“Oh shit! Why I got to? I ain’t one to spout words. I gave you the ring.” He was getting tired of talking.
I took the ring off my finger and pressed it into my palm. “Thank you for the thought. It means a lot.”
“Oh shit, do you have to pout?” He slapped his knee. “Christmas is here and I want my present.” He pulled me to him, moving on me fast in his same old way. A laugh struggled to get free of my chest, but I stuffed it down, knowing full well what that would bring me. I was learning my lessons each and every day.
When all the huffing and puffing was over, I watched a slip of a moon riding the tree line. What would happen if I went out to the river and lay down? Let the current pull me under, twist me around? What? Would it take me away from this place? Would it be worth the sacrifice? I wasn’t ready to die, not for Hobbs, not at that minute anyway.
Thirteen
Snowflakes fluttered down outside the window the next morning, Christmas morning. It was a beautiful gift. Hobbs slept beside me. Would he even remember giving me the ring? If he was sober, would he want to give it to me? I slipped the gold band on my finger and almost laughed out loud at the size. I didn’t want to know where he got it, but something deep inside told me I should know. Some poor farmer had to give up his wedding band on Christmas Eve for a debt owed. I slipped out of bed and went to where my gifts were hidden: one for Jack, Aunt Ida, Hobbs, and even one for Mama. Each gift was homemade and wrapped in tissue paper I found lining one of the drawers in the dining-room sideboard. Each was made from a quilt I’d found in a trunk out in the barn: a hand-sewn stocking that would hold a gingerbread cookie—silly kid stuff, but still good thoughts.
I worked the spicy dough with the rolling pin and cut each cookie with the cutter shaped like a man. We had no tree, no wreath, not even a stocking hanging on the mantel. Hobbs thought it a bunch of trouble, but I had hoped he’d come around. I was coming to see he was hateful and didn’t have room for happy thoughts. Maybe he enjoyed being miserable. There were people like that, mean and spiteful, full of poison. I’d seen that side of Daddy before, even though Mama tried to cover his meanness.
The icing, blue, red, and yellow, came out perfect. I added eyes and hair to the cookies. The sugar sprinkles were a childish touch but it was Christmas. There I was, trying my best to bring my memories of Mama at Christmas to life. It wasn’t fair I couldn’t see her. What was I doing on Black Mountain?
Hobbs stood on the stairs as I wrapped the last cookie. His hair was in a scrabble of curls like a young boy in a hurry to see what Santa brought. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and forget all our starts and stops. The big old ring hung off my married finger.
“What you doing, Nellie girl?”
“It’s a secret. Now, go on.”
He smiled, looking even more like a boy, erasing those mean thoughts I had. “What you got?”
“Go on and don’t spoil my surprise.” I smiled.
Outside the window fell thick fluffy flakes.
“Look at that snow falling. It’s all too damn sweet, ain’t it?”
I ignored him.
Aunt Ida’s house smelled like Mama’s on Christmas Day. Jack had a big fire burning in the fireplace. He smiled and looked right at me when we came in. “Don’t you look like a picture?” Delight lit up his face.
Hobbs noticed my clothes for the first time. “Where’d you get that dress?”
Had I been smart, I would have lied and told him my dress was old. He sure didn’t keep up with what I wore. Instead, I twirled around. “I made it.”
Hobbs’s eyes narrowed. “Where’d you get the cloth?”
“I found a old dress out in the barn. It was way too big to be one of your mama’s.”
“It’s one of my mama’s old dresses.” Jack smiled. “And I know she’d be thrilled you used it in such a pretty way. You know she loved to sew?”
I could have kissed him, but I held out my hand. “Did you see my Christmas present from Hobbs?”
Hobbs puffed up. “Put that up, Nellie.”
Aunt Ida took my hand and jerked it toward her. “It’s a bit big.”
“Yes ma’am, but it don’t matter. Hobbs gave me a wedding band. That means more than anything.”
“Shut up, Nellie!”
Silence filled up all the space in the room. I could have scratched Hobbs’s eyes out, but I didn’t let one tear fall, not one.
“Don’t you have some silly gifts to hand out?”
I didn’t even care anymore. I was dying from the inside out.
“Presents?” It was Jack’s sweet voice. “I love presents.”
I turned around, avoiding Hobbs’s stare.
“What you got for me?” Hobbs pointed the words at my back.
I reached in my old feed sack and handed him the gift wrapped in tissue paper. He tore into it like a greedy child. His name was stitched into the cuff of the stocking with some gold thread I found in a drawer. The gingerbread man, with blond hair and blue eyes like his, peeked from the top.
“Ain’t that so cute.” His words were twisted like the bitterroot plant that grew out in Mama’s yard. It had the prettiest white flowers, but it was the thick roots that was used to doctor. He tossed his gift in one of the chairs and walked toward the kitchen. “You got some dressing ready, Aunt Ida?”
“Don’t go digging in my food.” Aunt Ida followed him but not before she glared at me.
I stood there with that big heavy ring hanging from my finger, holding the other two gifts, lost, lost as a child in some dark woods.
“Is one of them for me?” Jack asked. He had to be the best person ever, but he was as hard to read as Hobbs—different, mind you, but hard to think on just the same.
I passed him his present.
“The gingerbread man has my hat. I don’t think I could ever eat it.” He smiled.
“You got to cause it’ll ruin.”
“It’s too nice. The stocking is perfect. Where’d you find my old quilt?”
My stomach twisted. “I’m sorry. I found it down in the barn too. It was with the dress.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. That stuff was packed up when Mama died. Henry James couldn’t stand to look at it. I’m proud to have it as a stocking, Nellie. You found part of Mama for me.”
My heart flipped over.
Hobbs came walking into the room. “Did you make him one?”
I twisted the band around my finger and didn’t look at him. “I made one for Aunt Ida too.”
“Come on, Aunt Ida. You got you a cookie too. Nellie is too sweet.”
I studied on him, trying to figure out what was so special about this man. What had I seen down in Asheville?
* * *
That night Hobbs stayed home and went to bed at the same time as me. This should have told me something. He caught me studying that huge wedding ring.
“Are you still sulking around?” He was propped up on pillows.
I didn’t answer him.
“Oh come on, Nellie. Ain’t nothing to be mad about. I’m waiting on you. Give me my real Christmas present.”
“I’m tired, Hobbs.”
The change in his eyes flashed between us as he jumped from the bed and grabbed my arm. “Get your ass over here and don’t talk back to me again. Do you think I didn’t see you looking at Jack today?”
The twist on my arm hurt but I refused to give in and cry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You like him!”
“No, Hobbs.”
His look was mean. “You’re a damn liar!” He pushed me. “I don’t like being cheated on, Nellie.”
“Are you crazy? I’m married.” My anger came spilling out. “You know that I wouldn’t cheat on you. How can you question me? You’r
e the one who is never home! I left my mama and came here for you. You won’t even let me see her. I gave up everything and now you ask me a question like that!” I braced myself.
He laughed as he yanked on my gown. “I guess you’re right, little girl. You have to love me if you left your mama. And you’re right about another thing. You sure as hell ain’t going to see that woman. No you ain’t. You’re mine. I own you, every part of you.” He squeezed my breast until tears came into my eyes. “You’re mine.” He shoved me on the bed.
There wasn’t one thing good about loving that night. I stayed awake for a long time watching him breathe and listening to the cold wind howling. Was this what love was supposed to be? Hell, I didn’t know nothing. I’d never been in love before, only puppy love after one of my teachers in high school. I never even kissed a boy on the mouth before Hobbs came along. If what I had with Hobbs was real love, I didn’t want any part of it. I thought hard on how I could change things between us. There wasn’t nothing, nothing I could do. I fell asleep with that thought.
The next morning his side of the bed was empty. Hobbs’s truck was gone. I waited but he didn’t come back that night. I knelt on the floor and thanked God for keeping him away. When New Year’s Eve rolled around, Hobbs still hadn’t come home. Something told me he’d be gone a long time. I prayed he would. I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t feeling much like a good wife. I set into a routine and pretended he didn’t exist, that I’d never met him. The house welcomed me. The mountain knew me. I wasn’t at peace, but I could live with my life. I had settled. What more could I ask for?
Fourteen
I’d like to say I woke up on New Year’s Day, looked in the mirror, and understood what being married to Hobbs was doing to me, but that would be a fairy tale of the worst kind. Instead each time Hobbs hurt me, I saw him a little clearer. The problem was, what would he have to do to make me understand the whole truth?
New Year’s Day was cold but sunny. I walked over to Shelly’s little house.
Mrs. Parker opened the door with a frown on her face. “What you need, Mrs. Pritchard?”
“I need Shelly’s help. It’d only be for today.” I knew Shelly was there. I could feel her listening.
“Your husband made it clear …”
“My husband isn’t here and no telling when he’ll come back, if he does this time.” I looked her dead in the eye. “I want to work in the attic and I don’t want to go alone.” This was true. “I’ll pay her, not Hobbs. He’ll never know.”
Mrs. Parker studied me for a minute. “You need to go home.”
“It’s not that easy. He don’t like my mama.”
Mrs. Parker looked me from head to toe. “You got yourself in a fix. You at least know him now. You know what he can do.”
I wanted to tell her about the night before he left, the way he shoved me. “I’ll make sure Shelly’s all right. I need her in the attic.” I looked at the ground. “I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Parker sighed. “Well, with the to-do of Christmas behind us, I don’t think Shelly will have much work at Pastor’s house. I’ll let her come for a couple of hours this afternoon. For some crazy reason I’m trusting you, but I don’t want her around Hobbs.”
“He ain’t coming home.”
She laughed. “He’ll be back before you know it. Bad folks always come back looking for more trouble.”
Her words gave me a shiver.
Shelly knocked on my door right as I was fixing my noonday meal.
“Come on in!” I yelled. My heart gave a little lurch of joy.
The door opened with a puff of wind. Cold air was the only visitor.
“What you doing, Shelly?” My laugh sounded hollow.
Shelly didn’t answer. It wasn’t like her to play tricks. I put down my knife and went to look outside. No one was on the porch. Was I crazy? Someone opened that door. I searched around. When I went back in the kitchen, it was ice-cold, a deep-in-my-bones cold.
In the corner of the kitchen, near the door to the hall, a shadow was forming.
“He’s going to tell you what he be wanting soon.”
I jumped. The shadow disappeared. “You scared me! Did you knock on my door?”
Shelly only smiled. “You know what they say? If you welcome a ghost into your house …”
The room was growing warmer. “What?”
“It won’t leave until it gets what it wants.”
“Are you telling me a ghost knocked on my door?” I laughed.
She shrugged. “Laugh if you want. You told him to come in, right?”
“I thought it was you!” I was getting mad.
Shelly shook her head and clicked her tongue. “Your mama didn’t teach you a thing about spirits.”
“She doesn’t believe in ghosts, haints, or spirits.”
“You just being silly, ma’am. You believe. You have to.”
I took in a big breath.
“I seen that ghost with my own eyes standing in that corner. Ain’t no telling how long he’s been trying to get in Hobbs Pritchard’s house.” She nodded to the place where the shadow had been. “You seen him too.”
“Who is he?”
“It’s the man we seen in the woods. The one you seen so much of.”
Fingers of cold walked up my neck. “We’re going to work in the attic today.” I couldn’t look at her.
She laughed. “Yes ma’am.” She followed me up to the attic.
“I figured we’d start here and work our way back.” The room was so big I couldn’t see the other end.
Shelly was quiet.
“The newest stuff should be here in the front.”
“Yes ma’am.” Shelly walked over to a big wooden barrel full of all kinds of books. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The books were a real disappointment. They was all about horses. Then I spied a small wooden box stuck in the bottom of the barrel. When I bent to touch it, Shelly drew in a breath.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Her lips were a thin line. “Cause it’s personal.”
“How do you know?”
She took three steps back. “Never mess with private things.”
I picked the box up and opened it. A sigh let go in the room. I looked at Shelly, who looked like she was going to run. Inside was a velvet pouch with a necklace covered in red stones.
“Rubies,” Shelly said. “Lordy be.”
“Maybe.” I twisted the necklace in front of me.
“That be her stuff.” Shelly took another step back.
“Whose?”
She nodded. “You know. You seen her with your own eyes. She came to visit you.”
“It’s beautiful.” Could this belong to Jack’s mama?
“Yep.”
“What are you afraid of?” I put the necklace back in the pouch.
“This spirit is hard to figure. I don’t know if she be here to help you or him. But I know she can’t stop the bad from coming. It’s here. It walked in your door today.”
A stillness settled in the room. In the box was a lock of steel-gray hair. I ran my finger along its silky softness.
Shelly nearly screamed. “Oh Lord, it be her hair!”
“Stop talking like that. You’re scaring me.”
She looked past me and her eyes got big. “I can’t, ma’am.” She looked back at the hair. “Lordy.”
“You’re being silly.” I touched the piece of string tied around the lock.
“He cut it.” She looked around me and then at me. “He cut it for fun.” She shook her head. “I gotta go and I ain’t coming back here no matter how much I like you.” And she was gone. I heard the kitchen door slam.
I stood there holding the hair, wondering what in the world Shelly saw that scared her so bad.
Fifteen
January closed in around me like a pack of hungry wolves cornering a lost traveler. No matter how much wood I threw on the f
ire, I couldn’t stay warm. I took to sleeping on the red velvet sofa by the fireplace in the front room. I’d gotten good at chopping wood. Jack tried to help me, but I wouldn’t let him. I was driven to take care of me. He came by but never stayed. Sometimes I caught him watching me with his intense green eyes. It was those times that I thought I might ask him to take me to Mama, but something held me back, a hand clenched around some happily-ever-after notion that all things come out smelling fresh and clean. Each day I breathed in the air and fed myself. I went through the motions, but my heart was empty. The days turned into nights and then back into days. Even the spooks didn’t show their faces. I was alone. My mind was old and turning inside out with the crazies. Widow Marks lived next door to me and Mama ever since I could remember and as far as I knew she never left her yard. Many times I saw her sitting on her front porch talking to empty air. I was starting to understand why.
One morning I woke up thinking about a garden me and Mama planted the spring after Daddy died. It was full of every kind of flower, and somehow watching them grow gave me reason to hope. That’s what a garden could do. I itched to feel the loose dirt in my fingers. I sat up on the sofa, looked outside, and thought I might throw myself off the roof if I had to see snow for another day. The sun was shining, trying to fool me into believing it was warm. I decided to get back to what me and Shelly had been doing before she threw a fit and ran out on me. I went to the attic.
The door creaked like a ghost story. Cobwebs hung in fluffy velvet clusters. It was warmer than I thought it would be up there, probably because of the sun beating on the tin roof. Piles of stuff filled the space, but I figured I’d start at the back this time and give that necklace and hair all the room they needed. I made my way to a tiny window in the corner. The trunk was older than me. I brushed off layers of dust and found the initials “AP.” The latch wasn’t made for keeping people out. Inside were books with flowers pressed between brittle pages, filled with old photographs of a woman who looked like Hobbs’s mama when she was young. In one she wore a fancy dress with a big floppy hat. My favorite was the one where she held a small boy. I enjoyed seeing Hobbs’s expression lit up in a smile. I opened one of the small books with lined paper—there were several—and found a willowy handwriting.
