The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  “That’s it,” said Wayne. “Time to pack up and get out of here.”

  Sixteen

  It would have been nice to have flowers from the garden, but the snow storm had crushed all hopes of anything blooming again before the spring. Hothouse flowers would have to do. She had ordered a nice fall arrangement, but when she picked it up, she was disappointed. Holy Miracle certainly would find this controlled and sterile bouquet alien, and probably not very pretty. But she didn’t want to go empty handed. She knocked softly, then pushed open the door to his room.

  He was asleep, but Sally Beth was sitting in the chair at his bedside singing softly. When Geneva walked in, she put her fingers to her lips and whispered, “Shh. He just dropped off.” She got up while Geneva put the flowers on the bedside table, and the two went back out into the hallway.

  “How is he, Sally Beth?” Geneva already knew the larger answer. Wayne had informed her that the old mystic was dying. He had been revived by infusions of glucose and Ringer’s lactate, so he had been lucid when they told him he needed a blood transfusion, indeed would need weekly blood transfusions just to stay alive. He had simply laughed and said, “I’m bound for heaven. Ye cain’t make me stay,” refusing the blood and all other medications and life-prolonging measures, including the glucose IV. And he had chafed against being in the hospital.

  As his physician, Wayne nodded and signed the order for Holy Miracle to be moved to hospice care immediately. “He’s not in pain, and he has the look of those who are ready to go. There’s no need to upset him by trying to talk him into anything. I don’t blame him.” And so Geneva knew his hours were limited.

  “He’s okay,” said Sally Beth, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I jist can’t bear to lose him. He is my best friend.”

  Geneva was silent for a long moment. She had no doubt that Sally Beth spoke the truth. She was, no doubt, his best friend as well. “I know, Sally Beth. I’m so sorry. He has been a part of us since we were little.”

  A young, good-looking physician came down the corridor. He smiled broadly when he caught sight of Sally Beth.

  “Sally Beth! I am glad to run into you. Thank you for what you did for Mrs. Halverton. I haven’t seen her this perky since her grandson graduated from college.” He hurried on, but looked back over his shoulder, “If you have a free minute sometime this week, would you bring Kit and Caboodle over to see Mrs. Jameson? She was asking me for them.”

  “Sure, Dr. Sams,” smiled Sally Beth.

  “Kit and Caboodle?” queried Geneva.

  “My Yorkies. There were only two in the litter, so I got the whole kit and caboodle. I bring ‘em over sometimes and the old folks here jist love ‘em.”

  “And what did you do for Mrs. Halverton?”

  “Oh, nuthin’. I jist come over here a couple times a week and do the hair of the ladies. It gives them a little lift.” She smiled. “Literally.”

  “A couple of times a week? Sally Beth, you live forty miles from here. And your car is in worse shape than mine is.” Geneva felt herself growing more and more ashamed of herself over her past judgments of Sally Beth.

  Her cousin shrugged. “Aww. I don’t have anything to do on my days off, anyways. Besides, I like these old birds. They give me a good time every time I come over here.”

  They continued strolling down the hall. An elderly man stepped out of his room and motioned to them. “Hey, girls, will you come and sing to me?”

  “Why sure, Mr. Hawkins,” said Sally Beth. “Come on, Geneva. You’ll see what I mean.”

  They entered the old man’s room and he got into his bed. Sally Beth perched on the bed as well, and Geneva, feeling a little silly, climbed up beside Sally Beth, who looked happy and right at home. “What do you want us to sing?” Sally Beth said brightly.

  “Whatever you want,” he replied, nodding eagerly.

  “Ok, how about On Top of Old Smoky?” Sally Beth nodded to Geneva, and the two launched into the old ballad with the sad words but lilting melody:

  On top of Old Smoky, all covered with snow

  I lost my true lover a-courting too slow.

  Now courtin’s a pleasure, and partin’s a grief

  A false-hearted lover is worse than a thief

  A thief he will rob you and take what you save

  But a false-hearted lover will send you to your grave.

  Your grave will decay you and turn you to dust

  Not a boy in ten thousand that a poor girl can trust.

  Now come all young maidens and list to my plea,

  Never place your affections in a green willow tree.

  The leaves they will wither, the roots they will die

  You’ll all be forsaken, and never know why.

  “How’s that?” asked Sally Beth, grinning broadly. Mr. Hawkins looked disappointed. “Well,” he drawled, “it was all right—I guess.”

  “Just all right? What would you rather hear?”

  He brightened. “Do you know Lucille?”

  “No,” both Sally Beth and Geneva shook their heads. “How does that go?”

  Mr. Hawkins settled back and launched into the song with full voice:

  “Have you seen Lucille make water?

  She can pee a mile and a quarter,

  And if you don’t duck, you surely will drown.

  And if you want to f—”

  “Mr Hawkins!” exclaimed Sally Beth. “Yew know Jesus don’t want you singin’ those dirty songs! Nor Mrs. Hawkins, either!”

  Mr. Hawkins looked sly. “Well now, they ain’t here, air they?”

  “Jesus sure is. I was talkin’ to him jist this mornin’, and if yew don’t mind your manners, I might let him know what you’ve been up to, and he might up and tell Mrs. Hawkins. And yew know what she’ll have to say about that!”

  The old man’s eyes flew open. “Oh no! Please don’t tell Him! If He tells the Missus, she’ll be on the warpath!”

  “Okay, Mr Hawkins. I won’t tell Him this time. But yew need to mind yer manners,” she warned, shaking her finger at him, “‘specially around ladies. Yew ought to know this.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, sheepish. “But will yew come back and sing to me tomorra?”

  “If I can. Now, we need to go on. Yew remember what I said, yew hear?” Sally Beth sailed out of the room, Geneva close on her heels. When they got into the hall and closed the door, Sally Bell giggled and leaned into Geneva. “He used to be a deacon, sober and a perfectly nice man. Now he has the Alltimers, and yew wouldn’t believe the awful things that come out of his mouth! The only way I kin keep him in line is to threaten to let his wife find out. She’s been dead for eight years, but he’s scared of her. Yew ready to go back and see if Holy Miracle is awake?”

  Geneva nodded.

  “All right, I’ve been with him all mornin’, so yew go on. I’m goin’ to visit one of the old ladies down the other hall. She used to be a fashion model, and she’s particular about the way she looks, so I brush her hair and put a little lipstick on her every time I come in. And we talk about what’s happening on All My Children.” Sally Beth drifted down the hallway with a wave.

  Geneva pushed open the door of Holy Miracle’s room, then stopped short with a gasp. Howard Knight was sitting at the sleeping man’s bedside. When he looked up, the blood drained from his face, and she felt the echo of his faintness in her own wobbly knees.

  “Howard,” she said, as she recovered from the shock.

  He stood up. “Miss Geneva.”

  She almost wept at his formality, but forced herself to smile calmly. “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”

  He stood silently, gazing at her with something like grief in his face, then his eyes darted toward the door. He was about to bolt, and Geneva willed him to stay just a little longer.

  “Actually,” she continued, rushing on. “I was thinking about coming to see you—I need to talk to you about something. Won’t you sit?” she pleaded, motioning to one of the chairs. He hesita
ted, then sat, his eyes downcast. He looked supremely uncomfortable.

  She sat beside him, heart pounding as hope danced and sparred with despair. This was the moment to tell him, perhaps the only moment she would have to give him the frightfully wonderful news, but her nerve was failing her. Her breath came in short gasps, her face flushed, then drained again. Dreading his scorn, she plunged ahead. “I’ll get right to the point. I wanted to tell you—that is, well—” She took a deep breath to steady herself and started again. “Do you remember that tea I drank?”

  A brief light flickered across his face, then disappeared. He looked directly at her, puzzled. “Yes.”

  “Well, I—I mean, it didn’t exactly work like it was supposed to.”

  The light came and went again. A shadow of a smile fluttered at his mouth. Geneva didn’t know what to say next. Why did he smile? Was he happy about it?

  “Well, I reckon yer right about that. I never saw hemp work on anybody that way.” He looked at her directly. “But yew don’t have to go apologizing to me again about that. It’s all water under the bridge.” He stood up.

  Geneva understood his misunderstanding. “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant! I—” but the door opened, and John walked into the room. She had not seen him for three months, not since he had left for Africa, and he strode into the room with confidence and an air of authority that made her want to make herself as small as possible. The last thing she needed was him thinking he had some sort of claim on her.

  He lit up at the sight of her. “Well, Geneva! I was hoping to find you here. Hey Howard,” he added, giving a wave. How’s he doing?” he nodded his head toward the sleeping Holy Miracle.

  Howard used John’s entrance as an excuse to flee. “Good to see ye, John. I gotta run now. Tell Holy Miracle I said hidy when he comes to.” He ducked his head at Geneva. “Goodbye, ma’am.” And he was gone.

  Geneva lashed her flailing emotions down tightly as she turned to John. “Hi,” she said quietly. “He’s been asleep for awhile. I was hoping he would wake up while I was here.” She placed her hand on Holy Miracle’s shoulder. “How was your trip?”

  “Really good. The experiments are going well, and it looks like we’re going to get the funding we need to set up some field stations.” He hesitated. “I guess I’ll be going back in a few months,” he said, looking at her and smiling tentatively. She did not want to see his eyes, for she knew she would find the longing in them, and she did not know how to tell him she could never love him, could never pick up that old hint of a beginning that she had felt for him, dust it off, and wrap it around their shoulders. That early stirring of her heart was in shreds now, worthless to warm or comfort either of them. She wanted to cry for him and his hopeless hope.

  They chatted quietly and awkwardly for a while, and Geneva ached for John and his thwarted eagerness and confusion. How could she tell him all that had happened to her heart and spirit since that day of wine and honey when they had lain in each other’s arms on that hazy mountaintop and hoped for a future together? Torn between hoping Holy Miracle would wake and the desire to flee John’s longing eyes, she felt an onrush of gratitude at Sally Beth’s return.

  “Hi Sally Beth,” said John.

  “Well hello, John! You’re back!” she replied with an enthusiastic smile before she moved to Holy Miracle and grasped his hand.

  He woke at her touch. “Hey, Holy Miracle,” she murmured softly. “We were beginning to think yew were never going to wake up. How you doin’? Kin I git you something? There’s orange juice here.” She picked up the package of juice and poked a straw into it, then brought it to the parched and pale lips.

  He drank greedily, then relaxed into the pillow. “Sally Beth,” he smiled, taking her hand. “I dreamed about ye. Yew were cavorting with the angels, and I heard yer laughter ringin’ all over heaven.”

  She chuckled. “I reckon I would laugh all over heaven. And dance, too. What did the angles look like?”

  “Yew kin see fer herself. They’re right over there.” He motioned to the corner of the room. “See how much they love us?”

  “Holy Miracle, I sure wish I could see them. Yew have better eyes than I do.”

  His eyes roved around the room, smiling at persons unseen. As he glanced toward Geneva, he brightened. “Why little girlie! I didn’t see yew there with all that crowd standin’ around. Come here and take old Holy Miracle’s hand. I want to see how ye’ve growed since I last saw ye.”

  Geneva did not remind him that he had seen her only a month ago, but she was profoundly disappointed that he had not remembered how he laid his hands on her head and called down the Holy Spirit to her. It had been such an important moment to her, but he obviously had no recollection. She moved to his bedside.

  His voice, honeycombed with frailty, came to her weakly, and she had to lean over to hear him.

  “Oh, yes, I see ye have growed. Jist a month ago, ye had that thistle still lodged in yer soul, and now that’s withered and died; now ye are full of the honeysuckle. God has his hand on ye fer sure.”

  Relief washed over her. He remembered that great moment! She blinked back the tears.

  His gaze ran over her face and his smile broadened. “And yer womb has come to life!” His voice strengthened, “Oh holy God, ye have given this girl a babe!” Placing his hand on her stomach, he splayed his fingers wide over her belly button. His face began to glow, creasing like a bellows as he smiled. “This child will be blessed. Holy God, thank ye for the babe, thank ye for the life you have preserved, for the life that will grow and bloom in the spring. Bless him, my dear, Holy Father.” He gave Geneva’s belly a little pat, then his hand suddenly grew limp and fell back onto the sheet.

  Silence filled the room. Geneva could feel John’s confusion behind her, and Sally Beth’s sudden sympathy. She expected shame to press against her in the deep stillness, but instead, joy welled up. A blessing for her baby! This is why she had so desperately wanted Holy Miracle to live, and now he had fulfilled her most earnest desire. Laughing with delight, she turned to meet Sally Beth’s eyes, which were filled with questioning, and then she let her gaze shift to John. He looked stricken. Her joy did not flee, but underneath the happy gauze that enveloped her, she felt his pain and shared his sorrow for the briefest of moments.

  “I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean for you to find out this way, but I must tell you that I am full of joy right now. Holy Miracle is right. I am pregnant. John, I know I’m hurting you; I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was going to happen, and the truth is, I am in love.” She turned her eyes inward. “I am a different person now.”

  That was all she said. Sally Beth moved to her side and took her hand. “I think I do see angels in the room,” she said. John was silent. His eyes, filled with desolation, were more eloquent than any words he could have spoken. He rose to go.

  “Ah, boy, I see ye carry the pain of loss with ye, but be of good cheer. There’s no loss, only happiness right here with ye. All ye have to do is look.” He turned to Sally Beth, reaching toward her. “My own sweet child. Bringer of light and laughter. Yew lift the burdens of all you meet. I bless ye with all my heart. I bless yew all.” His face grew brighter, his eyes grew round with surprise and delight, and suddenly he gasped, “Oh my Father! Oh! To see your glory! I never dreamed yew could be so complete!”

  His chest rose and fell, and the light of his eyes was shuttered; suddenly the room grew cool. Holy Miracle was gone as quickly as his breath.

  The parking lot was empty this early in the morning, so Geneva parked right next to the entrance of the cafe and made a dash for the door. The cold rain had not let up for two days, and she was feeling its misery creep into her bones. Sally Beth was already inside, perfectly coiffed and made up. She was wearing a sky-blue dress with a deeper blue sweater that made her eyes look like a summer day. Geneva chuckled to herself. Of course Sally Beth would dress joyfully for Holy Miracle’s funeral. She looked down ruefully at her own black ensemble
.

  “Hey! Geneva!” came the sunny voice. “Can yew believe this rain? My grandmama used to say it was the angels cryin’, but I am sure there’s no cryin’ in heaven right now. They’re all happy as larks to be finally gittin’ old Holy Miracle home!”

  “Hi Sally Beth. You look beautiful,” she said as they sat in a booth. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I am jist fine. I cain’t begrudge him leavin’ us, not after seein’ how happy he was to be goin’ home.” Her voice grew solicitous. “How are yew?”

  “I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you before we were around a lot of people, about what you found out on Wednesday… about the baby, I mean. I wanted to explain to you…”

  Sally Beth smiled conspiratorially. “Geneva, it’s okay. I’m really glad for yew. You sounded so happy when yew told us!”

  “Yes, well, I am, but no one knows, not even the baby’s daddy, and I wanted to make sure…”

  Sally Beth grasped her hand. “Don’t yew worry about that! I won’t tell a single livin’ soul!” She sobered. “But what do yew mean the daddy doesn’t know?” Her pale forehead wrinkled in confusion and concern.

  “I haven’t told him, and he, well, Sally Beth, he doesn’t love me, although I love him, desperately. We just had a few days together, but, oh, Sally Beth!” The tears rolled down her face suddenly, before she even knew they were lurking behind her eyes. “I’m so sorry! I’m just upset over Holy Miracle, and I feel really vulnerable right now.”

  “It’s okay, honey.” Sally Beth moved to Geneva’s side of the booth and drew her close, wrapping her arms around her. “I know yew love him, love both of them. Yer jist feelin’ real lonely, aren’t yew?”

  Geneva nodded and gave in to her sobs. “You just don’t know the whole story. No one would understand.”

  Sally Beth patted her back and stroked her hair. “I do understand. I know how much yew love him. I could see the love in yer eyes the mornin’ we found yew on that porch, dancin’ with yer panties.”

  Geneva sat up, shocked. “You knew? You could see?”