The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  “She was much loved by her father, and he was so hurt and shamed by what he had done that he asked the spirits to help him find a way to protect other young lovers from the hate of their fathers. The spirits heard him and felt so sorry fer ‘im that they turned her tears into fallin’ stars, so they could be a reminder to fathers to listen to the hearts of their children.”

  “That’s a very sad story.”

  “It’s a very old one. There’s a dance about it. I learned it when I was a boy. It is a dance that the braves of my mother’s tribe dance on this night when they want to declare their love to a particular woman, ‘specially if he’s afeared her father might not approve of him, or if he feels he’s not worthy of her. It’s both a love song and dance and a sort of pleading for acceptance.

  “Do you remember it?”

  “Yes, and the song, too. My father, ye know, is white. He learned it to dance fer my mother, ‘cause he knew if she married him he’d be takin’ her away from the place she knew and loved. When I was little, he always danced it agin’ fer her on the nights it rained stars.”

  Geneva felt a moment of anxious possessiveness. “Did you dance it for your wives?”

  He did not move, but she felt him withdraw for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “No. With Sarah Grace, there wasn’t no need. We were young, and so in love, we felt we were already one person, there was nothing that could separate us. And things moved so fast with Aster, I never got the chance.”

  Geneva was afraid to ask, but her need was great. “Would you show it to me?”

  There was a long silence while Geneva and Howard turned their gaze toward the heavens raining white fire, then all at once, as if he had suddenly made up his mind, Howard rose, and lifting his arms toward the sky, began to sing softly. Geneva could not comprehend the words, but she felt the power of his feeling, and she watched with stilled breath as he began to move, slowly at first, then more rapidly until he at last was leaping and spinning around her. Sometimes his eyes held hers for long moments before he broke away and turned to sing to the heavens again, and sometimes he approached her with his eyes lowered, as if he feared or revered her. But always, there was a sense of overwhelming passion, mingled with hope and fear as he approached and fled and danced his mysterious dance around her.

  She sat very still, comprehending nothing but the passion in Howard’s voice and in his lithe, naked body as he wove among the falling stars. He was so beautiful she could have spent her life just watching him move so sensuously, and then, she felt compelled to stand, to feel herself closer to the stars and to feel the rhythm of his song. Slowly she rose, cold from the damp night, but she flung off the blankets and let the pulse of the sky and the song and the earth fill her until she felt herself grow warm and light, as if she had become part of the music, or as if she had become the chorus to give fullness to Howard’s feeling. Breathlessly, she watched him and listened until at last, his voice rising to a painful wail, then softening to a note so low it felt like a caress, he stopped.

  There was a silence, then he dropped to his knees before her and flung his arms around her thighs, burying his face in her belly. Slowly, he stood, lifting her high into the air. Without meaning to, she flung out her arms to embrace the night sky and lifted her face to watch the stars fly around her head. She was wearing a crown of stars. She was worshipped, she was alive with love and passion and desire and youth. Her flesh became immortal and her spirit sang like a river.

  And then the stars stilled themselves, and Howard lowered her slowly and gently until their faces pressed close together. Hungrily, half crazed with desire, she clung to him, and he gave a little cry before his mouth found hers and the stars began to spin again.

  They made love until the night grew pale and the meadowlark sang, then Howard pulled the blankets tightly around her and pulled her close with her face nestled in the hollow of his shoulder.

  “Hit’s gittin’ on toward mornin’,” he murmured.

  “Hmm,” she replied sleepily. “It’s too cold to get up.”

  “You okay on this rock?”

  “What rock?” I feel like I’m in a featherbed.”

  He chuckled. “They’s critters out here could eat us. We’d better git on back.”

  She ignored him. “Howard?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I just realized, I don’t really know who you are. I love what I know of you, but I’ve never known anyone like you. You seem to know all about me, but every time I think about you, I see so many different people, so many sides to you. I mean, you seem to belong to these hills, but you read philosophy and you know all about things, nature and literature, and cars and horses.” She stopped, wondering if she could ever find his definition.

  “My grandfather gave me the Cherokee name I carry. ‘Anigia Hawinaditlv Tali Hilvsgielohi.’ Hit means ‘One Who Walks in Two Worlds.’ I think at the time, he meant it to mean that I wuz both white and Cherokee, but now I think it fits in more ways than that.”

  Startled, she sat up. “That should be my name! I mean, I’ve felt it all my life. I want to be in so many places at once. Anigia—How do you say it?”

  He repeated it slowly,” Anigia Hawinaditlv Tali Hilvsgielohi.”

  “Well, I can’t say it, but that is me, too.”

  He tugged at her until she lay beside him again.

  “No, your Cherokee name is ‘Digvnasdi Atsilv Hawinaditlv Galvquodiadanvdo,’ I’d say, ‘One Who Strikes Fire In the Soul.’ Fer me, that’s your name.”

  She did not know how to answer. As far as she was concerned, that should be his name. Maybe they weren’t so far apart in the things that really mattered. It seemed to her now that all the differences between them were merely superficialities, inconsequential little details. She stroked his smooth chest. “You strike fire in my soul.”

  He grew playful. “Well, hit’s a good thing we got all this fire agoin’, else we’d freeze to death out here. Maybe we kin git on back and put somma this fire onto some kindlin’. I don’t want ye gittin’ chilled again.”

  Reluctantly, she rose, and before she could begin shivering, he wrapped the blankets around her again. Together they walked back to the cabin where they slept as lovers, clinging to one another, even in the profoundest of sleep, dreaming of the other’s touch and the rhythm of bodies, souls and spirits in perfect harmony. Deep into the morning they slept to the sound of all nature awakening and shouting their joy to the heavens.

  When she woke, the sun was quite high. Before her eyes had opened and consciousness had come to light in her brain, her heart was singing. Something wonderful had happened to her in the night. She opened her eyes, smiling.

  Howard, still naked, still beautiful, crouched before the fire. When he heard her move, he turned his face upon her and his eyes lit up with love. Geneva had never seen such happiness in anyone’s face. He radiated joy so that his countenance was nearly unrecognizable as the man with whom she had spent these—how many?— days and nights.

  He sprang to the bed and knelt, kissing her eyes and her face and stroking the arm that lay outside the blankets.

  “Morning,” she drawled, touching his face. She knew she was in love. There was no thinking about it or planning or even considering what it might mean. She was simply a river of happiness, flowing ceaselessly toward her beloved.

  “Morning, darlin’.”

  “Go for a swim with me?”

  He shook his head. “Breakfast is goin’. Besides,” he added, lifting his arm to his face and inhaling deeply, “I don’t want to wash the smell of you off me. Mmmm,” he closed his eyes. “Geneva with mint. Makes my mouth water.”

  Happily, she sprang from the bed. “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Oatmeal and hoecake. Lord, woman, you make a man hungry. I cain’t wait fer breakfast,” and he dived for her and buried his face in her neck, making gobbling sounds until she shrieked with laughter and wrapped her arms around him.

  She was happy, more than happy.
She belonged here and to this man who made her feel so complete. Languidly, she breathed his scent, then suddenly pulled away and asked, “What was that you called me last night? Strikes Fire in the Soul? No, that’s not right. That is your name. I’m that other one—Walks in Two Worlds. But not anymore! I just want to walk with you! You’re the fire-starter!”

  “Oh, no,” he chided. “Ye cain’t take a man’s name away from him, and ye cain’t step out of yer own name. Ye’ll have to wear it the rest of yer life, now that it’s yers.”

  “Okay, so tell me how you pronounce it, so I can come when you call me.”

  He crossed to the bookshelf and retrieved a notebook. “Here,” he said, taking up a pencil. “Here’s you, how it looks in Cherokee,” and he wrote:

  “Digvnasdi Atsilv Hawinaditlv Galvquodiadanvdo. Easy enough.”

  “For you, maybe. It’s impossible for me!”

  “And here’s how my name looks,” he continued, writing beneath the first:

  “Anigia hawinaditlv tali hilvsgielohi.”

  “And this is us together,” she said, taking the pencil from him and encircling the two words in a heart. “But teach me how to say it. I want to know you, in every way. Anigia… hawin. …”

  “Anigia Hawinaditlv Tali Hilvsgeilohi. How about we shorten it to just Ta li—two? Call me that, and I promise I’ll come arunnin’!”

  “Ta li. I can handle that. Ok, now I’m off to my beauty bath. I have mud all over me.” She kissed him lightly and scampered off to the creek.

  She plunged into the water and swam around the large rock pool until she felt she had used enough energy to be able to contain the life surging through her. She stood for a moment beside the mint bed to let the water run and drip down her naked skin, smiling at the crushed and hollowed out place in the shape of their loving bodies. Then, lightly she ran back to the porch and snatched up her nearly dry panties off the rail. A sudden wave of happiness swarmed over her, and she could not help but execute a neat little pirouette and glissade as she held up her panties to determine which side was the front.

  She did not make that determination.

  As she looked up, her vision was pulled beyond the elastic of her panties, beyond the porch rail and the steps and the zinc tub where she had bathed. Beyond it all, right to the ashen face of Howard Whittaker Graves, III.

  She blinked, certain that he was an apparition, but when she refocused, he was still there, and behind him stood Jimmy Lee, Lilly, and Sally Beth, all open-mouthed and still as stones. Beside Jimmy Lee stood Lamentations, whining and looking anxiously at his master.

  For a second Geneva stood in horrified disbelief, staring at the small crowd clustered at the edge of the forest, then slowly she lowered her panties and let her eye rove until she focused on Sally Beth’s hot pink toenails peeking out of open toed, jeweled sandals. The reality of her situation suddenly hit her, and she turned and fled into the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

  Howard was dressed, thank God! and setting the table for breakfast. He looked up to smile at her when he heard the door, but when he saw her face, the blood drained from his own.

  “Oh, God! What have I done?” cried Geneva in a frenzied whisper. “Oh God! What will I do?” She grabbed a blanket from the bed and fled through the back door, heading for the deepest thicket she could find to hide from the source of her shame and dread. Howard Graves! How did he find her? What would he think of her here with Howard Knight! He would find out what they had done last night! He would laugh with such derision! And Sally Beth and Lilly! They would tell everyone! Oh God! How could she have been such a fool? Howard Knight, of all people! No one would ever understand. She wrapped herself tightly in the blanket, rocking herself and wishing the earth would swallow her up. Death would be preferable to this humiliation. Then the hot tears came, and she dashed them away angrily. She did not deserve the luxury of tears! She would merely sit there and suffer until everyone disappeared. Then she could rise and make her way back down the mountain, and then perhaps to parts unknown to her, and more importantly, where she would be unknown to others.

  She steeled herself to hide forever, but before many moments had passed, she shifted uncomfortably. The blanket was becoming too warm, and time seemed to be ticking its way by too tediously. How long would she have to sit there before she finally figured out a practical thing to do? Reason began to hint that the mess would not just disappear.

  She heard her name. Sally Beth was approaching her hiding place. “Geneva? Geneva honey? Yew can come on out now. Howard explained everthing. We all know it looked a whole lot worse than it really is. Come on out now. I’ve got yer clothes.”

  Geneva’s grateful ears pricked toward her cousin’s voice. Had she said Howard had made it sound not so bad? Tentatively, she raised her head and called out, “Here I am. Sally Beth. Over here. Bring me my clothes.”

  Sally Beth approached her cautiously. “Goodness, you gave us such a start! Here we were expectin’ to maybe find yew dead, and then Boom! There yew are, buck nekked, holding up your panties like yew had all the time in the world to step into them. I liked to have died! Your mama would skin yew alive if she could have seen yew! It’s a good thing Howard told us all about it, or I bet Howard—yew know, the other one, yer boyfriend—would really be mad!

  “I mean, he was mad! Fit to be tied! But he feels real bad now, since he found out how sick yew’ve been and all. He wants to see yew as soon’s yew get dressed.”

  “He’s not mad?” asked Geneva incredulously.

  “Gracious no! I mean, we had no idea yew were sick! Howard just thought Howard—Knight—had kidnapped yew or something! He pitched a fit all the way up here!”

  “What did Howard—Knight—tell you?” ventured Geneva cautiously.

  “Oh! He told us how yew’d had a high fever for days! How yew nearly died! And that yew’ve been out of yer head for these three or four days, so that he was afraid to leave yew and go get help. Oh, Geneva! It must have been jist awful! And yew do look jist terrible! You’re just as white, and I can see yew’ve been feeling too bad to even comb yer hair! Yew look like a haint!”

  Geneva’s hand instinctively went to her tresses. “Do I really look that bad, Sally Beth?” she asked miserably.

  “Oh, Lord yes! Yew look like yew’ve been wallerin’ around in the bed for days! I mean, yew must have been in terrible shape not to even be able to comb yer hair! Now, here’s your clothes, honey. Get on in them and we’ll just go on back and I’ll fix yew up real pretty so yew can face Howard. My goodness, Lilly’s still tryin’ to take him away from yew! Yew should have seen her comin’ up here. All over him, she was! I jist hate how she can act like such a tramp sometimes. I mean, really! Trying to take a sick girl’s boyfriend away from her while she’s practically on her deathbed!”

  Sally Beth chattered on thus while Geneva dressed with trembling hands. When she had finished, she made an attempt to pull some of the tangles out of her hair.

  “Oh, just leave it. I’ll fix it for yew when we get back. How yew feeling? Yew think yew can make it back down the mountain? It was just awful coming up here. It took us since six o’clock this mornin’ to walk up here, and look, it’s nearly eleven now! And we’ve been up all night! Howard was about to have the FBI out after yew after Jimmy Lee came by the house and told him Howard Knight’s daddy had said the last he saw yew, yew and Howard had left on horseback together. And then we went up to Howard’s place—that’s a pretty little place, isn’t it? And the horses were still gone! And your pocketbook sitting on the kitchen table! If Jimmy Lee hadn’t agreed to help us look for yew, why Howard was going to call in the FBI! He said so!”

  “Oh, no!” moaned Geneva. She could imagine the place swarming with search parties. “But why are you here? And Lilly?”

  “Oh, we had come by the house last night to see the babies, and we saw that cute little car of Howard’s there, and he was sittin’ on the porch, just as pretty as yew please, and nobody home, so of course,
Lilly, being the little hussy that she is, just had to sit there and talk to him for an hour! Anyway, along comes Jimmy Lee? She lowered her voice confidentially, “Geneva, I think yew may have a problem with Jimmy Lee. He was real surprised to find out that Howard was your boyfriend, and do yew know, he had come to court yew! Can yew imagine! His exact words! Court yew!

  “Anyway, Howard asked him where yew could be and he said he didn’t know, he had come by every day and every night to court yew since Wednesday, and yew hadn’t been home at all! But he said he went up to his grammaw’s house yesterday? And Howard’s daddy—Howard Knight, that is—had told him he had seen yew take off on horseback with Howard on Wednesday afternoon, and he hadn’t seen Howard since!

  “So then, Howard—Graves—I declare, honey, this is gettin’ confusing! He gets all mad and wants to take out after Howard and yew, and he threatens to call the FBI and get a search party—I told yew that part already—and Jimmy Lee got real nervous and said he thought he knew where yew might be.

  “Well! By this time Howard’s so worked up, he’s about to pop something, and Lilly’s acting all sweet and syrupy and says she’ll go with them, and I jist decide to go along to keep an eye on her. I mean, mamma would die if she knew she went traipsing out all over the country with two men! And then she gets right in that little sports car with Howard, and I have to ride in Jimmy Lee’s truck that has a hole in the floorboard! Yew get sick if yew look down! Yew can see the road running right under yew!

  “Well, then we got to Howard’s house about four in the morning, and of course yew aren’t there, and the horses are gone, and Jimmy Lee tells Howard he’ll take him to where yew might be if he’ll promise not to call the FBI.” She assumed the confidential whisper again. “Geneva, I think Jimmy Lee’s got a still around here someplace. He was as nervous as a cat about comin’ up here!”