“I g-g-got even,” Joe said, “when we dug for zircons.”
“He made me dig the pits, because I was the little brother,” Locke said.
“You all dug holes all over the pasture and mountainside,” I said. “And didn’t find a thing.”
“I wasn’t looking for zircons,” Locke said. “I was an explorer, like Columbus. I was looking for the route to China.”
“Looking for a way to get out of hoeing corn,” Florrie said.
I brought out a plate of cookies and lit the lamp at the center of the table. “When are you going to get out of the army and settle down?” I said.
“When I find a girl that suits me,” Locke said.
“How are you going to meet a girl off in the army?” I said. “And what girl wants a feller with such crazy ideas and a lack of faith?” I had said more than I meant to.
“I have faith,” Locke said. “I have plenty of faith.”
“Ginny wants you to come back to the river and attend brush arbor meetings,” Florrie said.
“I didn’t say that,” I said.
“It wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Pa said. Pa never did like to tease or argue about religion. He had a horror of disputation.
“I saw somebody that was demon-possessed when I was in the Philippines,” Locke said.
“I’ve seen a few people that was demon-possessed closer to home,” Florrie said.
“No, this man was a demoniac, like in the Bible,” Locke said. “They had locked him up like he was a lunatic. A doctor who had also studied for the ministry took me with him to the prison outside Manila. We was supposed to treat the prisoners. It was a part of the army’s plan to pacify the country, to send doctors and nurses out to treat the people. I was asked to go because I had studied tropical diseases.
“We went through this jail examining inmates and giving out pills. There was murderers and prisoners of war, terrorists and political prisoners. The Philippines are full of terrorists. We looked at bullet wounds and people with TB and malaria and jungle fevers you’ve never heard of. There was people with sores caused by funguses and ringworm, and people with gangrene. Everybody seemed glad to see us until we come to a cell where the man started screaming, ‘Stay away from me. Stay away.’ He had taken off his clothes and was climbing the bars like a monkey.”
“Maybe he was d-d-d-descended from Darwin,” Joe said. Joe was always worrying about Darwin and the theory of evolution.
“This demoniac spit at us and hollered, ‘Stay away from me, stay away.’ He cussed up a storm. You never heard such oaths. The strangest thing was they said he didn’t even know English, and here he was swearing so I could understand him.”
“What did the doctor do?” Tom said. Tom set up in his chair and put his elbows on the table.
“He demanded that the guard let us into the cell,” Locke said. “The doctor walked right up and held out his hand to him. ‘Be still,’ he said. The doctor looked into the demoniac’s eyes and the afflicted man could not take his eyes off the doctor’s face, though he twitched and blinked.
“‘You will come out!’ the doctor said, like a sergeant giving an order. ‘You will come out and leave this man in peace. You will come out and leave him forever.’ And the look on the prisoner’s face changed. He seemed like a different person. When he opened his eyes he smiled at the doctor and didn’t seem afraid at all. He shook hands with the doctor and he shook hands with me. But do you know what was the strangest thing?”
“He decided to join the army?” Florrie said.
“He couldn’t speak a word of English, or understand anything we said. Once the evil spirit left him we couldn’t understand what he said. The guard had to interpret for the doctor. But the man was smiling and happy when we left him. I heard later he slept for three days he was so exhausted from the possession.”
“What denomination was the doctor?” Pa said.
“I never asked him,” Locke said.
“The Lord can heal anybody,” I said.
“Was there any swine for the demon to go in?” Florrie said.
The whippoorwill was louder now. It had come closer to the house with its mournful croak and screech.
“That’s supposed to be the voice of the dead,” Locke said.
“Who are they talking to?” Lily said.
“Maybe us,” Locke said. “Maybe they’re telling us something.”
“What tommy-rot,” Florrie said.
“Whippoorwills love graveyards,” Tom said. “I’ve noticed that.”
“That’s b-b-b-because it’s peaceful there,” Joe said.
“Spirits could be anywhere,” Locke said. “Haints, if there are haints, don’t have to live in one place.”
“I thought you wanted to be a d-d-doctor?” Joe said.
“I do,” Locke said. “But maybe not a regular kind of doctor.”
“You could be a doctor like your uncle,” Pa said. Pa had always got on well with his brother-in-law, Dr. Johns.
“All you have to do is learn to drink more,” Florrie said.
“His pharmacopeia is simple,” Locke said. “Whatever liquor is available.” We all laughed, even Pa.
“He picks herbs and simples just like Mama used to,” I said.
“And then soaks them in liquor,” Florrie said.
“That’s how you make a tincture,” Pa said.
“That’s how you make a hangover,” Florrie said.
Locke turned to Tom. “Where are your folks from?” he said.
“From over near the line,” Tom said. His face turned red. I could tell he did not like to be questioned.
“His folks come from South Carolina before the war,” I said.
“Everybody’s folks come from South Carolina before the war,” Locke said.
“We lived over near the Lewis place,” Tom said. Everybody was looking at him.
“Our grandma Richards was a Lewis,” Locke said.
“But she married a Richards,” Florrie said.
“How did the Richardses get to North Carolina?” Tom said, like he wanted to start Locke talking again so nobody would ask him more questions.
“The Richardses have been here a long time,” Pa said, “longer than the Peaces or the Johnses.”
“They come from down in Rutherford County,” Florrie said. “But that was a long time ago. Who knows what happened that long ago?”
“Before that they come from Pennsylvania, and way back yonder they come from Wales,” Locke said.
“I thought they went first to Saluda,” Florrie said.
“No no, they come to Saluda from Mountain Creek in Rutherford County,” Pa said.
“Word is they was the first on Green River,” Locke said.
“Except for th-th-th-the Indians,” Joe said.
“Our great-great-great grandma was named Petal Jarvis,” Locke said. “She thought her husband Realus was bringing her to Tennessee. But he wound her around through the mountains till she was lost and then told her it was the Holston when they settled down near Saluda.”
“Just like a man,” Lily said, and punched Joe on the shoulder.
“She had to stay up all night once to keep a panther from coming down the chimney,” Locke said. “Her husband had gone off and left her by herself. She burned up all the furniture.”
“And she give birth to her first child that night,” I said.
“By herself?” Tom said.
“He left her all by herself,” Locke said.
“Tom’s Pa died in the war,” I said. I didn’t want it to sound like we was bragging on our family too much.
“What battle did he die in?” Locke said.
“He died in prison camp, in Illinois,” Tom said.
“That camp was as bad as Elmira,” Pa said. “A third of the boys at Elmira died in eight months.”
“Where was the doctors?” Locke said.
“They didn’t have any doctors,” Pa said. “All the doctors was on the battlefield. And the doctor assign
ed to us sold the medicine and supplies instead of giving them to the prisoners.”
I poured popcorn in the pan on the stove and put the lid over it. The first pop was like the report of a little gun, and then there was a second bang. The room was silent for a moment, and there was another thump in the pan, and then two at once.
“Popcorn w-w-waits for the Spirit to move it,” Joe said.
“How did you become a nurse?” Tom said to Locke.
“It was the only thing he could do,” Florrie said.
“That’s right,” Locke said. “I was too lazy to stay on the place and help Pa and Joe. And I was too poor to go to college, and too dumb to be a politician or a lawyer. So when recruits were give bonuses to go to Cuba I signed on.”
“Locke helped nurse Mama when she was dying, even though he was only eight or nine,” I said.
“I found my talent was for emptying bedpans,” Locke said.
“I don’t see how you can stand it,” Lily said, “being around sick people and filth all the time.”
“I guess you have to be a caring person,” Florrie said.
“Or get so hard nothing bothers you,” Locke said. “How can you help people if you’re always wrought-up because they are sick? You’ve got to keep your head even when they are out of theirs and suffering and dying. I found that when I enlisted and was sent to the hospital ship at Havana. I was nineteen and I didn’t know anything but a little folk medicine. They put me on a ship that was nothing but a death ward. It was so hot and muggy the harbor stunk. That ship was full of hundreds of dying men.”
“All those was wounded at San Juan Hill?” I said.
“There was almost no wounded. Most of the boys had yellow fever and malaria, with a few other tropical diseases thrown in, and cholera and dysentery. I said, Locke, you’re not going to be able to get through this.”
“You got through it,” Florrie said. “You even got a medal.”
“That all came later,” Locke said. He set back in his chair and chewed popcorn. The whippoorwill had moved to the arborvitae by the front porch and was louder than ever.
“That thing gives me the chills,” Lily said.
Tom looked at his strong hands and clasped them and unclasped them. “What did you do?” he said to Locke.
“I looked at those dark wards on the ship, and I wished I was back here on the river. And all those sick boys out of their heads and dying made me feel hopeless and useless. Everything was going to pieces there. A patient was dying, and they was holding smelling salts or something in a bottle to his nostrils. Another patient was screaming out of his head, ‘The devil is eating my hair. Please help me, the devil is eating my hair.’ And suddenly this sick man right behind me started throwing up. He retched over his sheets and mosquito netting, and over the floor. You could tell he was too sick to care. I found a mop and bucket at the end of the ward and drew water from a faucet. Pouring in a little antiseptic I hurried back to the bed of the nauseous patient. He was throwing up again. I held a bedpan under his chin and put my left hand on his sweaty forehead. He was white as a mushroom.
“As soon as he had stopped and laid back I pulled off the soiled sheets and spread clean ones under and over him. Then I begun mopping around the bed. I was sweating in that awful heat as though under water. But the bed and floor was fresh and clean. I got hold of myself through hard work. Wasn’t anything else would get me through. I had to help out and I had to clean up what I could. I have never worked so hard before or since as on that ship. I was more than myself, and better than myself. It seemed I become the work, and was no longer me at all.
“From the doctors and other nurses I borrowed what books I could. On my own I studied anatomy and pathology and the drugs in the dispensary, and I talked with anybody that was willing about surgery and internal medicine. That’s why I read Science and Health, because I wanted to read anything that was new to me. I felt I might learn from anything. I felt strong because of my work and curiosity. I could take criticism and admit my own ignorance. I was getting enough confidence to make me humble.”
Locke paused and it was quiet around the table for a few seconds. “Once Locke starts talking he won’t stop unless you hit him over the head,” Florrie said.
“I become a talker in the army,” Locke said.
“You was always a big talker,” Florrie said.
“You become a good nurse, I bet,” David said.
“You’re only as good as the job you’re doing,” Locke said. “It’s not as though you build up credit or a permanent ability. A surgeon is as good as the cutting he’s doing at the moment.”
I could see that caught Tom’s attention. He had been listening all along, but really woke up when Locke started talking about raising yourself above yourself through work. “I guess all work is that way,” he said to Locke.
“Maybe so,” Locke said. “But I know it’s true for nursing.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t catch something yourself,” Pa said, “around all those sick people.”
“Hard work is the best immunity,” Locke said. “And I’m careful to wash my hands and not touch my nose or mouth when working. Of course I wouldn’t want to work around a TB clinic.”
“When are you going to get married?” Florrie said. She took the last of the popcorn from the bowl.
“When I find somebody that will have me,” Locke said. He helped hisself to another cookie.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tom come back to visit again the following Saturday night. I soon learned he did not like to go out in crowds, as though he was afraid the public might steal something from him. And later I learned he did not like staying up late at night, as if the dark was evil and dangerous and the only safety was in sleep.
He could not remember his pappy. His pappy had gone off to the war and never come back. Tom and his sister Becky and his ma had to look after the place in the hard years after the war. His ma had to plow with the horse same as a man, and get in firewood. Soon as Tom could he was helping her butcher hogs and gather corn in the wagon. When he was eleven or twelve he hired hisself out to work for Colonel Lewis over at the Lewis place.
When Tom showed up that Saturday evening I invited him to set on the porch. Pa liked to rest there in the evening and talk until it was dark. Like Locke, Pa loved to talk more than anything else, except to go to preaching. Him and Joe and Locke could make up stories and tell jokes for hours.
“H-h-how are you?” Joe said to Tom.
“Howdy,” Pa said.
“How do?” Tom said.
“Your pa was named Tom too,” Pa said. “I remember him.”
“He was named Tom,” Tom said. Tom looked at his shoes, and he looked out at the pines beyond the branch.
“He was in the Sixty-fourth Infantry as I recollect,” Pa said. “They did some terrible fighting in that battle not too far from Chancellorsville, but after Chancellorsville. I can’t remember what it was called. They got pinned down and the smoke was so thick they couldn’t tell friend from foe.”
“Was that The W-w-wilderness or the Seven Days?” Joe said.
Tom did not answer. I could not tell if he didn’t know what brigade his pappy had served in, or if he just didn’t want to talk about it. His face turned slightly redder. I figured the thing to do was get him off the porch, for I wanted to be alone with him and talk to him myself.
And besides, I wanted to touch him. He was the first man I ever felt that way about. It was something about the way he was made. He was so strong and compact. I saw he was made more like a pony than a horse, not tall but powerful and calm in his strength if he didn’t have to talk and explain anything. He wanted to work and do. I could see it was a pain for him to talk to strangers, and tell about hisself. He was comfortable with his strong hands and broad shoulders. I felt if I could touch him I would feel calm too, and things might work out in the future. He had got his suit mended. I reckon it was the only suit he had.
“Let’s walk out to the Suns
et Rock,” I said. The sun had gone down but there was a glow in the west, over Chimney Top and the ridge at the head of the river.
“You-all stay away from twisters, Ginny,” Pa said.
“We’ll just stay away,” I said, and laughed.
It was one of those evenings in late summer when you can feel fall in the breeze. The air thrills, like when you touch silver in a drawer. The grass and weeds get cold and damp soon as the sun goes down, and you smell the corn leaves ready to be pulled as fodder and cured. There is the smell of old weeds with dust and dew on them. Even while there is a glow in the west a star comes out like a bright face watching you.
“What is the Sunset Rock?” Tom said. We walked out the road behind the log barn.
“It’s a place on the west side of the pasture hill, where I used to watch the sun go down when I was a girl.” I didn’t tell him I still went out there sometimes after milking, to see the full spread of the western sky when it was gold and red.
“Who named it Sunset Rock?” he said.
“I named it when we was kids,” I said.
Crickets in the weeds sounded like little silver notes. When we walked by they stopped, but soon as we got past they went on singing. The katydids was starting to make a racket in the trees on the hill and there was a jarfly off in the oaks by the river.
I made as though I slipped on the wet grass and took Tom’s arm. He put his hand on mine. A shiver went through me. He gripped my hand and waist. Tom had confidence in hisself, in anything to do with his body. I don’t think I had ever touched such certainty. He was at home with hisself in a way I had never seen, at least once he got away from Pa and Joe. He wasn’t all anxious and worried like I was, and he wasn’t trying to think of something witty or wise to say like Pa was. Maybe he thought he wasn’t able to be witty and wise and didn’t even try.
The trail around the hill come out of pines to this big rock. Though the air was cool the rock was still warm from the day’s sun. We climbed up and set like it was a warm hearthstone. Flies had gathered there to the heat and they buzzed around us.
“How much land do you own?” Tom said, looking up the river valley.
The Truest Pleasure Page 4
