Melody kneeled beside him and whispered in his ear, “She needed some remindin’ is all.”
“Can you please knock that catfish away from my foot? Thanks. She didn’t marry that guy, did she? God, please tell me she didn’t. If she did, I hate to say this in church, when there are so many good folks around, but I’m going to kill him and then walk away from her. It’s suicide, you see? If I walk away from her, it’ll kill me. I won’t be able to breathe anymore. Asphyxiation. Did you really just say the baby ain’t been sleepin’? That’s funny, because I bet that watermelon is keeping that poor Louise Anna girl up all night. Her poor ankles.”
“Hank, I think you need to take a little nap and then get out of here. For once, listen to somebody,” Melody pleaded, but it was strange, because it wasn’t an actual plea—more like a demand. But it seemed like the same thing for some reason. Maybe she was trying, but she couldn’t get it across.
“I’ll be damned if I do. I’m not leaving here without seeing her. I’m going to take her home with me, and I’m going to marry her. I love your sister, Melody. I love her more than she could ever know. If she were here, I’d sing the sunshine song to her to prove it. Here’s Spell’s eye, you can have the reward. I have enough pickles.”
“Which sister to do you love, Hank?” Melody whispered.
Hank stared his glossy eyes into hers. She twitched. “Delilah Mae.”
“What about the other one?”
“I just want to save her. I’ve been trying to say that all along, but I think it keeps coming out wrong. All wrong. I’m a man. Sometimes we’re just so simple, we’re complicated. Jo really hates me, and now I’m thinking she really doesn’t hate me, she hates complicated. Well, we finally have something in common. Where is your sister?” Hank rocked his way to his knees, leaning over the pew. When the room stood still for a moment, he rose to his feet, staggering a bit. “I have to see her. Is she here?”
“Oh, she’s here all right. Thank God for a spell. If you were to see…”
Hank covered his ears. He thought she was shouting. Just like one of those women who were born again and full of the spirit do. But she had actually whispered it. When her lips stopped moving, he cleared his throat. “That’s the same thing Spell said. He kept saying, you see…and I think he might have said I wish I could see…”
Hank wobbled to the door, opening it, shining light in the darkness. He covered his eyes with one hand, reaching out to move the sun from his eyes with the other. Just keep on movin’, you old sun, he kept repeating, trying to slide it away with the force of a finger.
A strong wind breezed past, moving all the cotton from left to right. Gnats and pieces of drifting cotton and loose earth danced in the shadow of the glowing light, creating a spectacular show of their freedom.
Stronger gusts of wind blew, and he knew she was coming for him. She appeared out of the cotton fields, in all white, a soft dress draping her shoulders. Hank imagined her stepping right out of a cotton plant, so beautiful, like an angel of the warmest breezes. A slit ran from her thigh down to the ground. Had it caught on one of the bushes and tore? Her feet were bare, stained with dirt, as she made her way toward him. Her leg was bleeding, tainting her pure white dress crimson.
The wind blew against her, around her, the world swayed behind her, back and forth, forth and back, rustling, clack, clack, clack, fluttering, a-whistling and a-crying.
Hank took a step down, held on to the church for support. She twitched, but he wasn’t sure if he recognized this woman. She was different; voluptuous, her breasts full, her hips wider, her stomach rounder. Did she have Delilah’s face? A different body? One more akin to Pistollette’s? Hank’s mind took off—they made their outfits to fit this one’s body style—then it came to a complete halt as she moved in even closer.
Heaven help the world, there was no controlling this woman. The storm clouds in her eyes. Hank looked up. Heat lightning split the sky. Clouds started to move quick and fast, gathering in big patches, white and black, rolling straight over the blue sky.
The wind started to pick up, whistling and crying, twisting and turning. It was all behind her, step, step, storm’s coming, storm’s coming, storm is chasing behind her, step, step.
Hank held on even tighter. Her eyes were brighter than the greenest of fields, as sweet as the honey straight from the comb, as blue as the iciest of oceans. The rings were missing. They had gathered, moved out, and were out of control.
She turned her eyes down. A small tornado started to kick up dust where she stared. She smiled just a little. “Hello, Hank Huckleberry Rivers. Do you recognize me? Am I the woman that you love?”
“God Almighty,” Hank whispered, just before he collapsed on the steps.
Blood Red Murder and High White Cotton
Delilah Mae
Standing in high cotton, I watched as heat lightning shocked the black sky gray. Hazy dark clouds covered that big old yellow moon. Those giant puffs rolled by like a steamer, just as fast as they could. The wind whistled, rustling the cotton rows around me, like bright white powdered sugar on a charred piece of toast blowing away with the strong mouth of the wind. A storm would be coming soon.
The wind carried so much. It carried the sound of voices toward me. Elvis was singing “Little Sister” on the radio while Mama laughed because Uncle Ham was singing to her. It carried their secrets, and every ounce of revenge they had planned. The wind carried the smell of sweet buttermilk biscuits and liquid-gold honey straight from the comb.
The house was lit up like an old lantern, while moths and gnats played underneath the porch light. I watched from my spot as she finally gave in and started to dance with him.
“Come on, Sissy, move those little legs. Somewhere out in this big world a table is missing its legs ’cause you went and stole them for your own! You got sticks, girl.” He laughed.
The wind carried it to me, laying it at my feet, and I laughed to myself. I laughed, and I listened. I listened for every sound. I could tell the difference between them too. Those that are the most terrified, they can hear what most can’t. The differences between the singing crickets and the croaking bull frog, the creaking of the house and light footsteps.
The difference between a man’s footsteps compared to a woman’s. Could smell the coming of a storm, that dew smell before the rain even hits earth, feel the pressure build inside me, just like I was part of that storm a-coming, smell the rich scent of blood in the air, just as fine as the liquid gold honey.
I spread my arms wide. I let my fingertips tickle the beautiful white flowers. I was terrified of everything, but I was never terrified here. I was hidden here. This was my world. I could hide and nobody would ever be able to find me. In my purty white dresses and ribbons in my dark hair, I was just like the cotton flower. I was fuzzy. I could disguise myself. This was my shelter, and as I held my arms out, I found my peace. My only fear was of the little devil, the rotten boll weevil. Those you had to watch out for. I hated when the cotton was chopped down ’cause then I’d have to hide in the woods. But here was my heaven. I didn’t have to speak. I could just be.
I hated words. I feared them. What a waste they were, always getting me in trouble. I never knew what would come out of my mouth, never knew when the words would be wrong or right. So I turned on them. I kept all those thoughts of mine locked up in my mind, behind my eyes.
I heard Uncle Ham calling for me, and I ran then. I kept my arms out, feeling like a free bird in midflight through the night. All those dark shadows behind me. I got real quiet when I came close to the edge of the cotton field and hid.
He stood, both hands tucked in his pockets, smiling. He always smiled. I loved his smile. It was gentle and so kind. His eyes were even kinder. They were the same color as the chocolate Milky Way.
“I hear you out there, Delilah Mae. Where you at, baby girl?”
I snickered, blended in real good, the flowers and me one.
He turned his face, smiled again. He kic
ked a hard piece of dirt and went around in a circle for a moment. He looked like he was thinking. “Well, I guess if my little darlin’ doesn’t want her gift, I’ll just have to give it to another little girl who’ll come out and see me sometime. It makes me real sad to do it, but a desperate man’s gotta do what a desperate man has to do.”
I jumped out from my hiding spot and smiled. He acted real scared and grabbed at his chest.
“Girl! You’re going to give your Uncle Paulie a heart attack one of these days. Wait a sec! Hold on, I think I need one of my sticks to calm me down. Come sit down with me, will ya? I can hardly breathe! You have my heart about to jump from here clear to New Orleans. Then I’ll have to put a wanted sign in the window of Spell’s shop, giving a reward for anyone who can find my missing heart.” He searched his pocket for his cigarettes, pulled one out and lit up.
I walked through the smoke as he took a seat on the top cement step. I sat on the bottom, staring at the patches in my overalls.
He inhaled sharply and blew out a gust of white. “Baby, you know it’s all right for you to say ‘BOO’ or something real scary, like I’m coming to get you—” he made his voice sound real ghost like “—when you hide. It’s fun to do it that way too. Nobody’s gonna be mad at you.”
I shrugged, picked at my pants again. He took my hand and forced me to stop. I looked up at him and he rubbed my chin, before he smiled again.
“You are going to be a real knock out, you know that? One day, when you’re ALL grown up, there are going to be boys coming from all over to take you out. They’re going to be howling at the moon.” He looked up at the moon and bayed loudly. “I’m going to have to beat them away with a stick. Send them crying back to their mama’s.”
I hid my face and laughed into my arm.
He wiped his palms on his khaki pants and leaned forward, close to me. “Hey, baby, do you think you can keep a secret? I know you can. These people around here don’t give you enough credit. You know something is going on. You’re just like Little Sister. You’re smart. But listen here, baby girl, this is a mighty big secret. Uncle Paulie has been workin’ on this for a long time. So it’s very important that we don’t tell, all right?”
All I had to do was nod, and so I did.
“I trust you, Delilah Mae. I trust you more than anyone else in this entire world. I love you more than anyone else in this entire world. Tomorrow, Uncle Paulie is going to take you and Mama away from this place. Far, far away. No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise. And guess what? I built you a tree house. We’re going to live there for a while, just until we move further away. It’s high, way up high, in a big old oak tree. A little fat squirrel comes by and he’ll eat straight from your hand. What do you think about that? And guess what else, baby girl? Some boys are using it right now. About your age. Do you think they can keep a secret too?”
I shook my head, wanting to scream “hell no!”, like Little Sister does.
“No, maybe not, then. We’ll just have to tell them they can have it after we leave, all right? I know one of their names. Toots is his name. I heard his buddy call him that. I thought that was a pretty cool name to have. Don’t you? Wild Wyatt used to love funny names. Ah, but it’s going to be so much fun.
“We can stay up late and listen to Elvis, and I’ll let you eat all the candy you want. We’re going to get us a dog. A bloodhound, just like the one in Cool Hand Luke. Things are going to be better, baby girl. Just you wait and see. I’ll be back tomorrow night to get you and Mama. Look here.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Here’s your ticket. This is especially just for you, baby. Put that in your pocket now, and whatever you do, don’t you lose it, all right? Let me see you tuck it in that place your mama sews into your clothes.”
I stared at the ticket for a moment. It was from hell to heaven. I pulled my overalls forward and tucked it into the pocket mama always sewed in my clothes, where she always had a piece of paper with my name and where I should go if something were to happen to her.
“I have something else for you, baby girl.” He opened my hand, placing two diamond earrings in my palm, and then shut it tight. He kissed my head. “Those were your Grandma Willows. She said Grandpa Wyatt told her he pulled them down from the sky, just so she could wear stars in her ears. I want you to have them now, and don’t you ever lose them. When you’re alone and you feel lonely, because I know you do sometimes and that’s all right—we all feel like that old lonesome train from time to time—I want you to take those stars out and hang them in your ears, and maybe you won’t feel as lonely.
“I love you, Delilah Mae, and not every man is like him—you can’t judge an entire litter by the runt. Remember that. Remember that your Uncle Ham here loves you. And that moon all those boys will be howling at, I think you hung it. That’s how great you are to me. You hung that great big old moon in the sky and you have stars in your ears.”
He stood up then and smiled down at me. I felt the pain in my heart and the water in my eyes. I wanted to hug him so tightly. I wanted him to carry me away and bring me to that tree house now. I didn’t want to wait one more day.
“I promise, I’ll be back. Be good tomorrow. Stay in line, and just remember, one more day. Just one more day. Salvation is coming, just one more day.”
I stood up as he walked away from me, toward those deep, dark woods. I walked behind him until he stopped and turned to me, lighting up another stick. He smiled through a puffy cloud.
“Uncle Paulie,” I whispered, “I think you’re the greatest man I ever did know.”
He laughed. “Remember that, you hear, when all those boys come a-howlin’. I love you, baby girl.”
I ran to him, hugged him real tight. I felt the rain starting to fall then, from his eyes.
“You hung that big old moon, Uncle Paulie. You’re the hanger of my moon.”
He kissed me and hugged me real tight. “Just for you, baby girl, just for you. You’re my pride and joy. Now, run back home to your mama. Go ahead. I’ll be back tomorrow to get you and take you away.”
THE night turned into a scalding hot day. Mama got up before the sun, as she did every Sunday. As she did every day. The house was turned inside out, cleaned until the splinters were turned into wood again.
I had to bathe, dress in one of my purty white dresses. My hair was pulled up on the sides, a white ribbon tied to perfection in the back. My shoes were spotless, my words pushed back further and further into my mind.
I stood outside of my door, watching as Mama took out the perfect plates from the cabinet. I watched as her fingers bled from picking his money, cooking his food, turning splinters into wood for him. We cut ourselves on the chipped plates. But on Sundays, we were allowed to use his plates. The perfect ones. He didn’t want our blood on them.
Mama stopped for a moment and stared at me. God, she was beautiful. Hair the color of golden wheat fields, her eyes cotton-candy blue, her lips the pink kind. They were especially blue when they were bruised and bleeding. I felt the knot on my own head where his ring had cut me. The thought of him made my knees start to knock.
“You okay, baby?” Mama said, one hand on the door.
I nodded, forced the words out. “I want to use the chipped plates. Maybe he wants the chipped plates. Are you sure today’s Sunday?”
“Don’t you worry.” She closed the door softly. “We’re using the right ones.” She came closer to me, knelt down to my level and looked me in the eye. “Delilah Mae, remember what I told you. If anything were to happen to me…I’m just a what?”
“A birdie in the sky, flying away, watching over me. If you cry, or scream, you’re just happy to see Jesus. I shouldn’t be scared, death is nothing to be scared of. ‘Hallelujah by and by,’ I should sing.” Dear God, those words hurt.
She tenderly ran her fingers down my cheek and smiled. “What should you do, baby? Where should you go?”
“I need to hide in the cotton real good, like I always do. Li
ke we practiced, until they leave, or night fall, and give Spell or Shuger my ticket. Then Aunt Kitty will come for me.”
“Very good, baby. Very good.” She patted my dress. “You have your lucky ticket Uncle Ham gave you? And your stars for your ears?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The porch door opened and I fell to the ground, my knees going slack.
“Sissy, you in here?” Little Sister whispered.
She was big and tough, a rough-looking woman. Her hair was the color of rust and her eyes almost black, like coal dust. When she was mad, they seemed like they were lit and hot. She was wearing her ole raccoon hat. It twisted around that rust like a coiled, furry snake. The coon’s face stared back at me, its teeth out, eyes forever full of wild anger. Her feet were always covered in gator-skin moccasins.
Spell always said she was as wild as the Louisiana bayous, as country as turnip greens. He called her Swamp Buggy sometimes because he said all those mos’skeeters bit her and the poison went straight to her head. She lived off the land. She depended on no one. If trouble came looking for her, she’d turn on you like a hellcat, but she was fairer than fair if you were straight with her. She was good with a gun, and everyone said she took after my grandpa, Wild Wyatt.
Mama kissed me real quick and went to the door. “Little Sister, what you doing here?”
“Have you heard from Ham?”
“Last night, he was here. He gave me the tickets.” Mama looked all around, her voice trembling.
“I can’t get in touch with him. He was supposed to call me and never did. I’m real scared, Sissy. You think they know something? I told you not to fool with that man. That’s his brother, for God’s sake! Don’t be stupid.”
“He’d never do that to us.” Mama looked at me, her eyes watering. “Look what he did for her.”
Pistol Fanny's Hank & Delilah Page 27
