In the Midst of Innocence

by Deborah Hining

  Warm, waxing days; rain freshens the earth.

  Death has come to claim his own.

  Evil and Good have vanished together in smoke.

  I hear the sobs of the stranger, locked out of tenderness,

  I taste the fear of the woman, singing in harmony with hope,

  The terror that rages and flames,

  The dread that weighs like icy steel.

  Green has crumbled into dust.

  April 18, 1932.

  My dear sister,

  I am utterly, utterly undone. All this school year, I have believed that I am ministering to the people of this place, that I have been accepted and loved, and that I have a home here among the people of these beautiful mountains. But I have been deluded and deceived. I have deluded and deceived myself. I am not loved, am not accepted. I have done no good here. All I can think of is that I must get away. I have to get back home to safety and the arms of those who truly love me.

  I cannot tell you what has happened, at least not yet. I do not trust myself to recount it correctly, and I do not want you to know the worst of it. Let me step back and find a moment to breathe before I divulge the source of my pain and sorrow. I tell you this much only to ask you to please pray for my deliverance from this heartbreak, from the terrible pain I feel. I am sick to my soul.

  Emily

  April 19, I think. I believe it is Tuesday. Mama let us sleep late this morning. I did not wake up until it was full daylight. Darlene was still asleep, so I dragged myself down the ladder to the kitchen, where Jasper, Sardius, and Ruby were just finishing up breakfast. Mrs. Carlton and Uncle Woodrow were not there. Beryl is still over at Pap-pa’s house.

  Mama told me that the Sheriff would be wanting to talk to me this afternoon, and we went over what all I would be telling him, then we went up to the loft and woke up Darlene and went over the story again. Mama did not hardly have to say a word while Darlene and I talked. She just nodded and smiled. We had it all straight.

  I went to the outhouse right after breakfast. It was such a beautiful morning, it almost made me forget what had happened, except for the lingering smell of wet char in the air. It was hard to make it straight in my mind that such awful things had gone on, and I felt so heavy with grief, I did not want to go back to the house, where there were so many bad thoughts and fears. I wandered up the creek, as far as I could get from Billy Ray’s house, from the smell of the burned wood. I climbed up the hill up past the beech grove to look out at the sun shining on the river so pretty, just like it always has. Behind me was a jumble of badness, but in front of me, it did not seem that a single, solitary thing had changed. It was almost easy to believe it was just another spring day, full of birdsong and sunshine.

  All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a fog rolled in and it began to rain, one of those fine, drizzly mists that make you feel like you are in a cloud. Something caught my eye as I gazed out toward the river, but when I looked again, I did not see a thing. A minute later, I glanced up again and saw Jake Hatton hiding behind a tree, sticking his head out just enough to peek around it. When he saw me looking at him, he grinned as he motioned for me to come over. I shook my head. We were scraping the bottom of Daddy’s whiskey stash, and I did not dare try to take any more. Also, I was afraid that the Sheriff might come by and see me talking to him. It would not be good if he found out my business with Jake Hatton.

  He motioned again. I shook my head again, and finally, he jerked his arm hard, telling me I had better follow him, and then he disappeared into the rhododendron hell to get out of the rain, which by now had turned into a steady drizzle.

  I realized I had better mind him. If I did not, he might tattle on me to the Sheriff, and that was the last thing I needed. I followed him a little ways in, along a crooked path, and before I got too far, I saw him crouched down amid a tangle of swollen pink buds, grinning at me. He patted the ground beside him, and I sat down. His hat was pulled down over his face, his collar turned up against the wet.

  I said, “Jake, I told you, I don’t have a drop of whiskey to sell you right now. It’s almost gone, and Daddy will kill me if he knows I’ve been selling it to you. And if he does, you’ll never get another drop from me!” I hoped that would keep him quiet.

  He grinned at me, winking and twitching. “You got secrets, little A-hole? Huh? Huh? A-hole. A-hole?” I stomped my foot. He was making me mad.

  “You quit cussing at me, Jake Hatton, or I will never sell you another drop!’

  He hung his head. “Sorry, G.D. it. It won’t stop, G.D. it. A-hole. A-hole.”

  “Shut up!” I hollered, but as I looked at him close up, I could see a world of sadness in his face. The whole right side twitched as if he was in pain, while his eyes looked like wells full of hurt. Water had gathered in the corners.

  “So sorry, G.D. it,” he kept muttering, while a tear slipped down his cheek, and then he started to sob, and he tried to reach in his pocket, but by then he was twitching around so much that he seemed to forget what he was reaching for and got all involved with his twitching. It was then I realized that he truly could not help it. Jake Hatton had not been to war, so he was not suffering from shell shock, but he sure was suffering from something. I stopped to wait for him to get over it.

  Finally, he quit twitching long enough to reach into his pocket, and Lo and Behold! He pulled out a bloody knife that looked like the very one that I had last seen in Billy Ray’s chest. “You want this, little A-hole,” he said, then he chucked it down at my feet. I sat looking at it a long time.

  “What is this?” I asked him, careful not to give away my feelings.

  “I saw the G.D. clan. I saw them, G.D it. I saw them, and I saw all of it. I figured you didn’t want the G.D. law to find it.”

  I picked it up, and when I looked at him again, he was grinning that crooked grin of his, his eye winking so hard that the whole side of his face jerked, and then he reached out, and ever so lightly, he petted my head with a twitchy finger. “I got me some whiskey,” he said. “Not as good as yourn, but I’m G.D. okay for now. You be careful, now. You don’t want them after you,” and then he turned and crawled out of the rhododendron, into the rain and the mist between the trees.

  By the time I got back to the house, Pap-pa was there. He looked worried and wet, and he smelled like soot, so I knew he had been back over to Billy Ray’s house looking for the knife. I called him out to the back porch. You should have seen the look of relief that came over his face when I pulled that knife out of my pocket! His eyes, bloodshot with soot and lack of sleep welled up. He did not say a word, he just reached out and folded his arms around me, pulling me to him. I could smell the soot and the sweat on him, and my heart began to sing like a bird. With Pap-pa on my side, I know nothing bad will ever happen.

  Later on, after dinner, the Sheriff came by. We all were on the back porch eating some hoecakes and strawberry preserves that Mama had brought out to us.

  He was a fat, greasy-looking man, and the minute I laid eyes on him, I felt a meanness about him. Jasper got up and stood behind me while Pap-pa eased up to me and Darlene with a meaningful look in his eye.

  “Pearl,” he said, “the Sheriff wants to talk to you two about what’s been going on here the past few weeks. I told them that some men had been bothering Darlene and her mother, and they want to clear a few things up.” He and the boys settled down on the porch steps while the Sheriff came and stood right over Darlene and me. He was big, and he stood way too close. I got the feeling that he did not like me or Darlene and he wanted to scare us.

  I was determined not to be ascared, but I could tell Darlene was frightened because she was shaking so bad she was practically rattling the chair. I got up, stepping between him and Darlene. My knees were shaking, too, but I was bound and determined that Sheriff was not going to see it, and I for sure was not going to let him loom up over Darlene and scare her even more.

  “I’ll tell it,” I said, looking him in the eye as brazen as I could be. “Da
rlene was so ascared by those men she can’t hardly even think about it without falling to pieces.” And then I started in at the beginning, telling the story I had pieced together and practiced in my head. I did not say too much, leaving out everything but exactly what I saw and heard once those men showed up in their white sheet getups. I could tell Pap-pa was proud of me. He was looking at the ground while I talked, but there was a little smile around the corners of his mouth. I could not see Mama. She was behind Darlene and me, quiet as a cat, but when I got to the part about how the man had grabbed Mrs. Carlton by the titty, I felt her lay her hand on my shoulder.

  The Sheriff asked a few questions, but mainly he just looked at me, nodding, looking grim and a little bit worried. I could see him thinking, and I wondered if he knew Otis’ uncle, the Sheriff over in Madisonville, who was family to the Cluecluckers.

  Finally, the Sheriff just nodded, thanked me for my cooperation, and asked Darlene if she had anything to add to what I had told. She looked at him very ascared-like, and shook her head, but added, “They scared me real bad, sir. They were mean, and they hurt my mama and made her cry.”

  I expected him to maybe feel sorry for her, but I could tell that he did not. In his eyes, there was a look that said he did not like her, that she did not matter, that she had no rights to be making complaints against anyone who would hurt her, and he was mad that he was forced to believe that the Clueclukers had done wrong. We let him know we were willing to swear on a stack of Bibles that they had tried to hurt an innocent woman and child and burned down their home, and when it all shook out, he knew he would have to at least make a show of trying to put things to rights.

  In the beginning, I thought that if we told him everything that had happened, he would have to do the right thing, but as I looked at him, I realized that those Cluecluckers just might get away with everything. The Sheriff was on their side, and it burned me up so much that I did not feel at all bad that we had fudged the story just that little bit. If we had given him the least suspicion about Uncle Woodrow, it is likely they would have found a way to pin it all on him—everything, including the fire—and those mean S.O.Bs would be free to keep on doing exactly what they had done to Darlene and her mother.

  It still burns me up every time I think about it.

  April 20, 1932

  My dearest Cecilia,

  My soul is heavily burdened. I still am unable to write about what has happened here. I will let it suffice to say that there has been violence and I have been a witness to it. It also has awakened in me a strong realization that I am not the kind, helpful person that I thought I was when I first came here. There is evil in my heart. I had thought I was coming here to help the people of this community to grow in the light of God’s love and to shed my own light of learning to the children. I did not realize that I was arrogant and condescending, that I was coming from a place of privilege, and that I would be hurting the very people I thought I had come to help.

  Father has done us a disservice. Our whole community in Chicago has done us a disservice. They have made us believe we are superior to people who struggle simply to survive. Our wealth and our education have made us think we are of a special, chosen group, and if we deign to stoop low enough to help those less fortunate, then we should be elevated even higher than we already are. What a foolish, arrogant notion! In reality, we all are such sinners, believing we are better than any other of God’s creatures.

  At present, I am heartbroken and so discouraged I do not know what to do, except beg forgiveness, pack my things, and come home to the arms and hearth of my loving family. I realize now that I have been callous and unfeeling toward Jonathan, using him and his good nature to further my own selfish goals. I have to beg his forgiveness for the way I have treated him.

  Oh, Cecilia! Please pray for me that God will show me a way to atone for my excessive pride!

  With a broken heart,

  Emily

  April 21, 1932. We went back to school today. Miss Weston is as nice as always, but she seems very tired and very sad. She has dark smudges under her eyes, and she moves as if she is swimming in molasses. At dinnertime, I wanted to talk to her a little bit, just to let her know how much I appreciate what she has done for us, but when I saw her up close, her eyes were so red, I could not bring myself to mention it. I wonder if we will ever be able to talk about what has happened. I know she must feel terrible about the part she played in saving my Uncle Woodrow from the electric chair, but I hope she knows how much we all love her for it. I am glad we did not tell the Sheriff that she was there that night. I cannot imagine her being able to lie for us.

  It is the full moon tonight. It is time to plant sweet potatoes. Jasper got up and went out to get an early start this morning. I wonder how he had the energy to go plant after all we had been through. Sometimes I think it is not worth it to try to scratch a living out of dirt. I hope he passes those tests with flying colors. This farm will break him down into an old man before his time. I have not seen Uncle Woodrow for days. We figure he will be back soon, and if he is not, I will be mad at him. I think Mrs. Carlton needs him more than she needs Darlene right now.

  Darlene and Mrs. Carlton are staying over at Pap-pa’s house for the time being.

  April 22, 1932. Just when I thought things could not get worse, they did. Sardius, Beryl, and I were in school this morning, when Jasper came running in to tell us to come home. Daddy had been in a bad fight with those hobos, and it looked like he might not live. We got home as fast as we could.

  Pap-pa, Janey Jo, Uncle Woodrow, Mrs. Carlton, and Darlene, were all sitting in the living room. Mrs. Carlton held Sapphire in her arms, and Ruby was sitting on Pap-pa’s lap. They jumped up when we came in, and Janey Jo held out her arms to us. We all started crying. From the looks on everyone’s faces, I knew it was bad.

  It was a little while before they let us into the bedroom to see Daddy. Mama was kneeling beside the bed, lost in prayer. She had her head on his hand, stroking his arm as she prayed. Daddy lay still as death, white beneath the bruises. His arm was in a sling with a splint, and one of his legs laid out on top of the bed covers. It was splinted and bound, too. A big bandage was wrapped around the top of his head.

  Mama moved to the chair when we came in. She just looked at us as if she could not bear the sadness, then looked at Daddy again and stroked his hand.

  “Come and kiss your daddy, children,” she said, and we stood in line to lean over him and kiss him between the bruises and bandages. Then we stood around, not knowing what to say or think. I did not know it would hurt this bad to see Daddy this bad off, knowing he might die.

  April 22, 1932

  Dear Cecilia,

  Things are getting more painful here every day. This week, Mr. Richard Wallace was attacked by a gang of men who have been riding the train illegally. Mr. Wallace’s job is to keep them off the railroad property, and apparently, they have become extremely resentful to the point that they have attacked railroad personnel.

  Mr. Wallace is near death, I am told. I have not been by to see him or the family yet. I do not feel it is my place to intrude during their time of hardship. I will wait a few days to see how things develop before I go. If the poor man dies, I do not know how the family will survive. The boys have scholarships to attend Wheaton Academy beginning with the summer term, but if they leave, the farm will not be tended, and I do not know how Mrs. Wallace will fare by herself. She has very young children, and she is not strong enough to run a farm by herself.

  Cecilia, life here is so very, very hard! I do not think I have it in me to withstand the terrors or the hardships anyone who lives here must face on a daily basis. Please continue to pray for me. I feel so lost and incompetent! I see now how foolish I was to think I could ever improve the lives of these people.

  Love and tears,

  Emily

  April 23, 1932. Mrs. Carlton and Darlene spent the day here today. Mama did not let us girls go out to the fields today. She said Bery
l and I should just play with Darlene and try to be happy, but we could not be happy. The boys and Uncle Woodrow worked in the fields all day by themselves. Mrs. Carlton cooked supper so Mama could sit with Daddy.

  I have not been this sad since the baby boy that Mama brought home three years ago died.

  April 24, 1932

  Dear Cecilia,

  I think I have preached my last sermon. The Reverend and Mrs. Miller have returned, and his health is much improved. He let me know that he is ready to get back into the pulpit. I am glad about that. I feel so disheartened I was not up to doing a good job today. I just gave a lackluster sermon about how God wants us to be kind to one another.

  I am quite sure I will be coming home at the end of the term. Life here is just too hard to bear. I look forward to getting back into my old life, seeing my old friends, and most of all, dear Cecilia, to spending time with you! And I am wracking my brain to try to find a way to help the children I have come to love so much.

  I love you,

  Emily

  April 25, 1932

  My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class

  By Pearl Wallace

  My father was attacked by a gang of ruffians who beat him up badly, broke his arm and his leg, and bashed his head in. We do not know if he is going to live. The doctor says that he has some swelling in his brain and that if he lives, he may not ever be able to talk or even move again. My mother sits by the bed day and night. She wipes his face with a washrag and she prays over him all the time. I have not seen her cry yet, but her eyes are red and swollen, so I know she is crying when we do not see her. We are all so sad, we do not know what to do.

  All our neighbors are very nice. They have come to bring food. Mrs. Carlton, my best friend’s mother, comes every day to take care of my baby sister Sapphire, and my step-grandmother takes care of Ruby. Mrs. Bittertree came by with a cake today. Mr. Bittertree offered to help with planting potatoes. My grandfather and my Uncle Woodrow also are helping as much as they can.