The Women of Jacob’s Mountain Boxed Set

by Hining, Deborah;

  Lord, this is hard. My sweet mama is gone. Only forty-two-years-old and still pretty, still full of fun—gone. Lilly and me, well, we’re officially orphans, even though we’re technically grown, but just barely. Lilly is turning twenty-one tomorrow. Bless her heart—having an important birthday just two days after we buried Mama. That’s sad, just as sad as me living here in this tumble-down house, all alone, because Lilly has up and moved off to Las Vegas and is acting up something awful, rubbing elbows with gamblers and Mafia people and goodness knows who else. It just plain grieves me. It grieves me, and it makes me glad Mama is dead so that she can’t see how awful Lilly has become, back for the funeral in a tight dress nearly up to her fanny, looking about as trashy as that poor Mrs. Parker down the road whose no-good husband has left her with three little children and she having to turn to whoring just to feed them. I’ll have to have a talk with Lilly. Maybe get her to straighten up and come on back home.

  It was a while before she realized that she wasn’t really praying any more but simply fuming about the mess her sister had become and how unhappy she was. She took a breath and began again. Lord, I just don’t know what to do! What about these insurance policies? I want to do the right thing, and I want to honor my mother. How on earth am I supposed to handle this?

  She sat back against the pillows to prepare herself for that moment of quiet, where she emptied her mind and waited for the Lord to answer her. But before she fully settled in, her eyes fell on a puddle in the corner of her room, and she remembered that the roof was leaking. She had already placed a pot in the middle of the bathroom floor, but this was a new breach. “Darn,” she muttered, followed by, “Sorry, Lord.” The Lord did not like swearing, even if it wasn’t the real swear word. He knew she was thinking the real word.

  Well, that was no good, and there’s no use whining. Sunshine was already making its way across the floor and lighting up the colors in Granny’s old quilt, and her heart felt it warming the air around her. The age-spotted, wavy mirror in the ancient dresser reflected her sleep-tangled image back to her. Lord, my hair looks like a stump full of granddaddies. She resolutely picked up her brush. Things would improve when she got this mess brushed into some sort of shape.

  Her mama could see her, she was sure. Mama was happy now, and she would want her to be happy for her, up there with Daddy and Granny and Pappy, and probably sitting in Jesus’ lap. Yes, she should be happy for Mama’s sake, and besides, for Lilly’s sake, she needed to be strong. Goodness knows Lilly needed to borrow some strength from somebody. She was a pure mess over all of this.

  “Lilly, I need to talk to you about something,” she said as she chopped orange peels and dropped them in the boiling water along with mint and some loose black tea. “I’m thinking maybe we should sell the house.”

  Lilly looked aghast. “No!” she exclaimed. “This is home!”

  Something in her tone made Sally Beth feel infinitely weary. Lilly had no idea what it took to keep the place up, and she didn’t have to deal with it, living a thousand miles away. She felt her patience grow thin over Lilly’s self-indulgent weakness. Still, she tempered her words with a soft tone.

  “Mama didn’t hardly have a dime to her name, nothing except this house, and it has a mortgage on it, and it’s falling apart. I’m not making enough to cover the expenses, and Daddy’s pension check quit the day Mama died. Even if we do decide to sell it—or maybe we can rent it out—but we need to fix it up first either way. The roof is leaking and the windowsills have rotted out, and I think the pipes in the bathroom are leaking, too.” She stopped, regretting her complaints when she saw Lilly’s tears spilling down her pale cheeks. Lilly couldn’t help it because she was the youngest and never really had to deal with the hard stuff. She changed her tone. “Do you want some tea? I ran out of lemons, so I’m using the oranges Rachel brought over yesterday.”

  Lilly sniffled, laid her arms on the table, and put her forehead down. She didn’t attempt to speak. Sally Beth felt so sorry for her, looking so little and hurt, so plumb deflated, that she thought she might go ahead and mention the insurance. She picked up Caboodle and sat down beside her sister.

  “Here, I put some honey in it. It’s real good,” she coaxed. “I think the orange peel is better than lemon.” Lilly rolled her head on her arm, ignoring the cup Sally Beth set on the table.

  There was a long silence before Sally Beth could bring herself to say it. “She had some insurance,” she ventured cautiously as she stroked the soft spot behind the dog’s ear. “But I’m not sure we should file for it.” Lilly’s head came up.

  “She had insurance? How much?” She had perked up considerably. Color came rushing back into her face.

  “Yeah.” The words came out slowly, guardedly. “But it was accident insurance. I’m not so sure she died of an accident.”

  “Doc said she broke her neck falling off the porch. He was telling everybody. If that’s not an accident, I don’t know what is.”

  “Well, he did that on purpose because he knew Mama had that accident insurance, and he didn’t want anybody to question how she died because he wants us to get the money. But, Lilly, I’m not sure that would be right. Before she fell, she went all pale, and she grabbed at her chest. Then she jumped up, and honey, I’m telling you, she practically dove down those steps. I’m thinking maybe she felt that heart attack coming on and just made that accident happen. To tell you the honest truth, I’m thinking maybe she had thought about it, and had decided to find a way to make sure we would collect on the insurance.” It pained her to say the words indicting her mother that way, but it had to come out.

  “Sally Beth Lenoir! Don’t you dare say that my mama killed herself! That’s just plumb blasphemy! And besides, Jackson was there. He saw the whole thing, and he never said anything about any suicide.”

  “He wasn’t looking at her. I was. And I think she knew she was dying and did it because she wanted us to get the money.”

  “Well, for Pete’s sake, if she wanted us to get the money, then you should have the sense to let her have her way! What good does it do for us to lose our family home and starve just because you thought you saw something you probably didn’t see? I declare, Sally Beth, you are the orneriest girl that ever lived!” Lilly sat back in a huff, then grew quiet.

  After a long silence, she spoke again in a small, soft voice. “Sally Beth, I could quit my job in Vegas, and maybe move back here, if I had some money. There aren’t any decent jobs around here, and you know it. I could live here with you. We can fix up the house some, and. . . ” she bit her lip and glanced away, “maybe I can go to college.”

  Sally Beth’s jaw dropped. “Go to college? Lilly, you never said you wanted to go to college! Where on earth did that idea come from?” She kept herself from speaking what was truly on her mind. Lilly had never done well in school, not because she wasn’t bright—Sally Beth had always known that Lilly was the smarter one—but Lilly did not like challenge. She always just quit if she was faced with anything resembling hard work. Could she even get into a college? And if by some miracle she did, how long would she last?

  A sudden rush of pity for her little sister and her limited prospects washed over her. What could she look forward to, as ill-equipped as she was to make her way in the world? Sally Beth had her cosmetology license, and she had a bigger capacity for work than Lilly did, and she knew she had the ability to make things happen. Lilly, though, was unfocused and, she hated to admit, lazy. Her sister’s next words confounded Sally Beth.

  “Oh, I’ve been thinking about it since before I graduated. But I didn’t have the money, and I couldn’t very well ask Mama for it, could I? And, let’s face it, I didn’t have the grades to get any kind of a scholarship. I just went to Las Vegas to work and save up so I could go.” She made a wry face. “But I don’t like it out there. It’s too hot, and the men are just out for a good time. And it costs so much to live, I wasn’t able to save up much.” She sighed a long, woeful sigh before add
ing, “It’s not like what they show on TV.”

  Sally Beth could not believe her ears. This was the first time Lilly had ever mentioned doing anything productive with her life. For her, it had always been about men and money. “What do you want to study?”

  “Oh, that doesn’t matter.” She fluttered her hand with a dismissive little wave, then her eyes brightened as she leaned toward Sally Beth. “I just know I want to go to Tech. They have four men to every woman there!” she said, splaying four fingers in Sally Beth’s face for good measure. “Imagine that! Four! To every girl! I figure I just need to go for a year or two, and I’ll find a good man there. One that majors in law or medicine, or maybe engineering. I looked it up. All those jobs make good money.”

  Sally Beth’s hopes sank. “You mean you want to go just to get a man? Lilly!”

  “Well, sure! Why else would any girl want to go to college? And there’s nobody around here that’s going to be any good to me. This little town? There’s nothing here, that’s for dern sure. And I’d rather die than marry some dirt farmer!” She ran a hand over her gleaming pale hair as she gazed into the distance. “When I catch me a college man, I won’t ever have to worry about being poor again!”

  Sally Beth felt so sorry for her sister that she wanted to cry. Lilly could make something of herself if she would just put some starch in her spine. She was bright enough, but she had always depended on others ever since she figured out that people would do things for her just because she was so pretty. Sally Beth suddenly realized that poor Lilly never would amount to much, and the best thing she could do for herself was to marry well. She lifted herself from her chair to feed Kit and Caboodle and fill their water bowl, thinking about what she should do.

  Bills were piling up. Her paycheck would not stretch enough to cover them and the mortgage, and what about all these repairs the house so desperately needed? Maybe she could get a second job—they had said something to her down at the nursing home about that, but even a second full time job wouldn’t bring in enough to stop this house from falling down. She was beginning to feel the weight of poverty pressing down on her and choking her, as if a sack full of dirty coal had landed on her head. Shutting her eyes, she forced a breath and, out of habit, asked for the Lord’s help. She did not really seek an answer, but used the minute to push aside all her sorrows for a little space where she could think without all this pressure.

  Prepare yourself to go, came an unexpected—and baffling—thought, right out of the blue, with no frame of reference, nothing to provoke it. Just a single, nearly audible, Prepare yourself to go. She knew it came from God, because that was the way He always spoke to her, not making any sense, never saying anything she might have thought of herself. But she knew from experience the sense would come later, and she felt a moment of clarity and trust. God knew what He was doing, and she had better heed Him, even if she didn’t know how. Opening her eyes, she looked out the window, and that’s when she saw the gutter hanging off the eaves. She didn’t know what the thought had meant, but it was a sure-fire thing that something had to be done about this house, and she might as well get busy about it while she waited for God to reveal His plan.

  She drained her teacup. “All right, Lilly. Let’s look and see what we can find. Maybe she had enough insurance to fix the roof and enough left over for you to go to college for a year or two.”

  It took them the better part of an hour, but they found the papers under the bed in the box where Mama kept all the family pictures. They were under the one of Daddy looking dapper in a white suit and fedora, leaning against the fender of his 1942 Special Deluxe Fleetline Chevrolet that he was so proud of. He was between two women, neither one of which was Mama, and his arms were draped over their shoulders with his hands on their titties, and he was grinning that crazy grin of his, looking like the cat that had got into the cream.

  Mama had showed that picture to them once, and they had a good laugh over it. It was funny to them because it showed a side of their daddy that they had never seen, and Mama hid it back after that because she said Daddy would likely destroy it if he knew it was still in the house. He had gotten saved after he married Mama and became their daddy, and he surely wouldn’t want his girls to know what a ladies’ man he had once been. It secretly delighted Sally Beth that Daddy had been such a rakish sort in his youth, as it delighted her that Mama had fallen in love with him when he was still something of a bad boy. She liked to remember the passion that smoldered beneath the surface of their quiet, respectful lives, back before Daddy had gotten so sick.

  They giggled again when they saw the picture and had a good time remembering how much fun he had been before things got hard, and then, just under that picture, they found a big envelope with eight accidental death policies in it. The benefits ranged from $500 to $4,000, and the total of all of them combined was $22,000.

  Sally Beth felt the blood rushing from her head, and she had to lean over and put it between her knees until the dizzy spell passed. Clutching the stack of papers tightly in her hand, Lilly sank down on the bed and grew quiet, too, before she drew a long breath and said, “Oh, thank you Mama! It would take me twenty years to save up that much money!” They looked at each other, and Sally Beth wondered again what on earth their mother had been thinking when she ran to the edge of the porch and fell head first down those steps. She squeezed her eyes tight, pondering what her mama would say if she could speak to her now.

  Give it to her now, came a voice that sounded just like Mama’s. She sat up and looked around, but all she saw was Lilly looking at the insurance policies and pressing a hand to her mouth.

  “Okay,” she said, and slid off the bed.

  “What?” asked Lilly.

  “I have something for you. From Mama and me. I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow, but we won’t have time to celebrate since you have to leave so early. So I’m going to give it to you now.” She went to her room and returned carrying a guitar case with a red bow on the handle.

  “Here. We figured you were tired of that old beat-up thing you were playing.” She handed it to Lilly who took it with a look of astonished delight.

  “Oh! It’s a Gibson!” breathed Lilly. “It’s beautiful! How could you? I mean, it’s a good one!”

  “I found it at the pawn shop, and yeah, it really is a good one. I’ve been playing it. It’s got a real good tone. You like it?”

  “Oh, Sally Beth! Thank you!” She burst into sobs. “I wish I could play it for Mama!”

  “I know, baby.” She took her sister in her arms, and they both wept enough tears to fill up the holes in their hearts.

  Two

  July 7, 1978, Swallowtail Gap, West Virginia

  Geneva awoke to Howard’s caress. The smile came before she even opened her eyes.

  “Mornin’, beautiful. Big day today.”

  “Yeah.” She stretched and blinked at him. “Oh, it’s good to be home! I could just lie here all day, but I guess we should leave early. Rachel probably needs some help.” She paused mid-stretch. “What are you looking at?”

  “Your happiness,” he responded seriously.

  “Do you see it?” she teased.

  “Yes. Right here.” He touched her forehead, then kissed it. “And here,” he added, kissing her left breast, over her heart.

  She giggled. “You missed a spot.”

  “Really? Where?”

  Pushing her foot from under the sheet, she wiggled her toes. “Here. I am happy from my head to my toes.”

  “Ah, yes. I need to kiss those toes,” he said as he moved to the bottom of the bed. After he kissed all five toes, he made his way upward, kissing her foot. “How about your foot? Is that happy?”

  “Oh, yes, my foot is happy. It feels like dancing.”

  “Uh huh. And your ankle. Is it happy?” He nibbled at her inner anklebone.

  “Mmm. Yes, my ankle is definitely happy.”

  He kissed her leg. “How about your calf? Is that happy, too?” She
paused to think about it before nodding. “Yes, it’s happy. I think it’s even happier than my ankle. Maybe even happier than my foot.”

  He was just beginning to nibble at the inside of her knee when a baby’s cry invaded her bliss. A sudden stinging rush pricked her nipples, then a warm wetness trickled down into her armpits. Quickly, she sat up, pressing her breasts with the heels of her hands.

  “I got him,” Howard said, reaching into the bassinette where the baby lay, gathered him up, and placed him in Geneva’s arms as she snuggled back into the pillows. Pulling her close, Howard rested his chin on her head, humming a lullaby as he watched her with quiet eyes. Presently, he spoke.

  “Listen, love, I’ve been thinking,” he said seriously. “I know you want some fancy touches to the house, but I’m worried that if we make it look too good, folks will start getting suspicious. It’s good you’ve still got your place in DC, but that can only account for so much income. If folks get wind of that gold up on the mountain, there’ll be no more peace for us.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing,” admitted Geneva. “But really, Chap, we don’t have to spend a lot. Just a log cabin will be fine, really.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’ve got this figured out. You know that piece of land my grandfather left me in Oklahoma? Well, there’s oil somewhere out there.” He laughed. “A hundred or so miles away, but nobody has to know that. Since Jimmy Lee’s out West right now, why don’t we let it out that he’s there to check it out. Maybe if folks think we have an oil well, we can get by with spending more money. We don’t have to live so tight and nobody will be suspicious about where it’s coming from.”

  “Chap, that’s brilliant! Does that mean I can get the fancy bathtub? And the washer and dryer?”

  He laughed again. “Honey, I got all kinds of things I can’t wait to give you.”

  “Really, Mr. Oil Baron? I’m still waiting for you to buy me a wedding ring.”