The Storycatcher

by Hite, Ann

  Faith came into the kitchen. “Can’t Shelly just stay here?”

  That’s when I understood I didn’t want to stay. I wanted to go with this strange woman and find out what else I could know from her. “I’ll go with Ada.”

  Ada smiled at me like I passed some kind of test. “We have some business this weekend, and it ain’t cooking and cleaning here on the mainland.” She laughed.

  I thought Mrs. Dobbins would puff up, but she smiled real big. “Shelly needs a good adventure.”

  There we was all acting like we was on a vacation, just happy as could be except for Faith. I think that girl really wanted me to stay. Well, even if she was Arleen Brown, I wasn’t going to be her friend and babysit her either.

  “Go on and wash up, you two. I’m going to leave you enough food for a army. You can fend for yourself for two days. Can’t you?”

  Mrs. Dobbins still wore that silly grin. “Yes. That’ll be our adventure.” She reached over and squeezed Faith’s hand. I don’t ever remember seeing that woman touch Faith. It’s what mamas was supposed to do, but Mrs. Dobbins never showed no kind of touching in front of Nada and me. But she was softening to this new place. And that was the best thing of all. If she started loving this place with her whole heart, maybe Nada would come live here too. And maybe just maybe that silly old Arleen would let go of the real Faith. And I still didn’t know why I cared.

  When they was gone to wash up, Ada looked at me. “You got you two doozies there.”

  My cheeks heated. “They ain’t mine.”

  She laughed. “I know just how you feel. You’re here now, and we’re going to make the best of it until you go home. I’m going to teach you all I know about cooking and the island. Two of the things I love best. We’re going to have us a feast on the island with my boy. You ever been on a real boat?”

  I laughed ’cause the answer to that question stuck in my throat. A real boat.

  “You going to have you a fine time, girl. And since you live alongside them folks, I got a feeling you need it.”

  This trip wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe I wouldn’t even bother with reading Armetta’s stupid old book. Maybe she was just stirring stuff up. Nope, I’d put that thing away and not think about it no more. The thing wasn’t nothing but her selfish way of getting her story told. How could a story save anyone? Anyway, Armetta couldn’t even bother me in Darien. But I kept thinking on that pretty haint upstairs.

  Armetta

  I WOULD WATCH MAMA for the longest in her garden when I was a little thing. The way Shelly’s mama sat with her legs folded under her and dug her fingers into the fresh dirt made me miss being alive. Mama had been the cook in the main house and loved her garden better than anything, just like Shelly’s mama.

  When Pastor found out the womenfolk was gone, Lord help, he got all upset and took off down to Asheville, probably hunting down the sheriff. But not before he threatened Shelly’s mama for playing like she didn’t know anything. But still the air turned softer, easier, almost happy with him gone. And a little tune no one alive could hear scooted through the wind. If I hadn’t known a whole lot better, I would have believed he was gone for good. Shelly’s mama had the strength to stand alone on the mountain. She could face Pastor head-on. But to stop him, it would take a whole lot more than a strong colored mountain witch and a white granny woman. Maybe a little craziness.

  “You’re here. I feel you.” Amanda’s words was soft, kind. She had never tried to talk to me before, not even when I blew in her ear that night her boy ran off. Nothing could have stopped him. His leaving was written across them stars in the sky. “You’re the girl spirit, the lost one. Shelly’s gone. I sent her away. No need to worry. She be safe for now.”

  “Nobody safe.”

  “Maybe, but I had to try. He’s gone.” She clipped mint leaves and dropped them in her basket.

  “Not for long.”

  “I guess you be right.”

  “Can you see me?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “My sight is weak as water. Sometimes if a spirit is real strong, I can hear them.” She moved to her lavender bushes that had seen better days. “The story is that you be good with growing things. The flowers still turn out real pretty in that old cemetery every spring.”

  “It be my home.”

  Her hands looked much older than her face. “I miss New Orleans bad enough to cry sometimes. I guess that’s where my spirit will go when I pass.” Shelly’s mama looked out to the west.

  “Maybe you’ll go on into the light ’cause you’ll be finished in this world. That be the best thing. I didn’t because my story is all tangled.”

  “Depends on what happens before I die. Lots of untold secrets sit on my back.” She gave a short laugh.

  “Your back sure be straight if it’s carrying a load.”

  She looked in my direction. “You come when someone is going to die.”

  A tiredness soaked me all the way through like I still had bones and skin. “I’m stuck to him, always have been.”

  She nodded. “You was here when Will left.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Did he die?” Her fingers shook.

  We all got our weaknesses, the place where we feel the hole open and suck us in. “Not yet. We all got to die, though.”

  “What you mean?” She sounded angry.

  “Just what I said. None of our bodies will last forever.”

  “Will is a good boy.”

  “From what I seen, he sure wasn’t no boy. He acted like a man. Not many men do that.” We both got quiet.

  “Shelly’s daddy acted like some dern old boy running up and down the mountain, selling moonshine for Hobbs Pritchard. Always smiling at me, telling me not to worry. Then he got himself killed.”

  “Men can’t never be believed.” I spit them words.

  She nodded. “One minute they tell you something, and then they change what they be thinking and go in a different direction, like we women be the craziness that caused it. We give all ourselves to them, and they take without giving nothing in return but lies.”

  “Amen!” I yelled.

  She stood, and I could see all them little lines on her face, one or two for every year her boy had been gone. “So why you here?”

  “He’s got to tell my story, he be the keeper.” That’s when I asked her the question I’d been thinking on for a long time. “Why you stuck to him?”

  She shook off a shiver. “I’m just like you. I’ve had burdens placed on me.”

  Something thick and heavy formed in the air. Fear swept over the sky. A hot wind that blew before a funnel cloud was bringing him. Nobody was safe. I seen them all four: Shelly and her mama, the white granny woman, and that girl of his. His evil wanted to bury them in the ground before their time to go. I had to find out which ones he was going to hurt. I had to help them.

  Maude Tuggle

  WHEN I GOT HOME, I found Shelly’s note. So she was gone with Lydia and Faith. That was probably for the best. She spelled out a warning, though. I stood in the doorway with the paper in my hand, thinking about how to handle the situation. Should I go see Amanda? Find out what happened?

  Charles Dobbins pulled into my drive in his old car. I had the irrational feeling that our good pastor knew that I knew about his past. Crazy thinking.

  “Can I help you?” I stood with my feet apart, hands on hips.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs. “My dear Miss Tuggle, I hope this fine day is treating you good.”

  “It is a pretty day, Pastor Dobbins, but you haven’t come to chat about the weather. We’re just not on those kind of terms.”

  As I expected, his cheeks turned red. “Where are my daughter and wife?”

  “I really don’t know. I haven’t seen Faith since yesterday morning. Has something happened?”

  “Please do not insult me, Miss Tuggle. I know your involvement in this disappearance. Lydia couldn’t leave this mountain alone. You helped Faith
leave once. Why not the both of them? They are all gone but that maid, even her daughter went with them.”

  My smile came through. “I’m so sorry to hear of your worries, but I’m sure your wife can take care of herself, or is that what you’re so worried about, Pastor Dobbins? She may have decided to leave you for good?”

  He walked up two of the three steps. “Don’t be smart to me.”

  When I was young, Mama taught me if a stray dog came after me, growling and baring its teeth, I had to stand up to it and use a firm voice. So I took her advice to heart in that minute. “Pastor Dobbins, I warn you not to come any closer to me. I do not know where your wife and daughter are. I don’t blame them for running away from you. You deserve it. But I did not have the pleasure of helping them. I will kindly ask you to leave.”

  He took a step back. “I heard you were reading the church records. Have you finally become interested in finding a place in the church, Maude?” He twisted my name with tone in his voice.

  “Please leave.”

  He stood there a minute like he might just slap me silly. “I know your soul. You’re black-hearted. Stay out of my business and away from my family. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t see how I can get close to them. Neither of us know where they are.”

  He stormed away from me to his car, started the engine, and spun rocks leaving the driveway. I only hoped he wouldn’t take out his anger on Amanda. I decided to go warn her and talk to her about what I knew.

  AMANDA MET ME on the porch of her cabin. She watched my every move. “It be good to see you, Miss Tuggle.”

  “I’ve just had a visit from Pastor Dobbins. He is a very angry man.”

  “Have a seat in the rocker.” She gave me a long look. “He thought you helped them? Right?”

  The note from Shelly was on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. “Yes, you are correct. Are you going to be okay with him here?”

  She gave a tired smile. “I’m used to his ways. He won’t hurt me. Hasn’t all these years and I’ve seen him in all kind of moods.”

  I nodded. “I’ve also come to talk to you about the abandoned cemetery up the mountain, if you have a minute.”

  She stood, leaning against the railing. “I can tell you mostly about Ella Creek, the settlement. I don’t know so much about the graveyard.” I must have shown my disappointment, because she shook her head. “Not a soul alive that knows much about that graveyard. The Danielses are gone. The coloreds that lived in Ella Creek left here a long time ago. You was born and raised here, Miss Tuggle. You ought to know all this.”

  “Mama never talked about the Danielses. They were gone by the time I got old enough to know about that part of the mountain.”

  “But the coloreds weren’t. Shelly’s daddy grew up there. He was one of the last families to leave. They all worked for the Danielses. Them folks owned a lot of slaves before the War Between the States. When the last of the Danielses left, the coloreds held on and tried to farm ’cause the Danielses had given them the land. Owning land was and still is like money or better.” She looked out at her garden. “All of the coloreds had hightailed it off the mountain by the time I showed up. Clyde had moved to Asheville, but he was working for Hobbs Pritchard. That’s how I met him. Us being the only two colored adults within miles of here. I was lonely; otherwise, I would never have got tangled with him. Shelly owns her daddy’s land parcel now, but I ain’t bothered telling her. What good would it bring her?”

  “It’s land.” This woman was a mystery to me. Part of her was headstrong and the other seemed to hide from what she saw as difficult.

  “Maybe so. Why you asking about the graveyard, anyway?” Her tone told me she was going to send me on my way.

  “I went there this morning.”

  “What you doing way out in them bad woods, Miss Tuggle?”

  “I’ve been walking this mountain since I was a young girl. I’m not afraid and do not allow stories to rule my decisions. But somehow I missed this most interesting cemetery.”

  “That cemetery don’t care a bit whether you believe in the haints up there or not. I hear the whispers from the woods, Miss Tuggle. I don’t make up stories.”

  Now I had offended her. I looked at the woods.

  “I respect your not believing, Miss Tuggle, ’cause you respect me,” Amanda continued. “But believe it or not, them spooks in the woods be real and dangerous. Be careful.”

  “In the church records, I saw where a Negro girl was lost. She’s buried in the Daniels family plot. That is unusual for now, but especially back then.”

  A flicker of something flashed over Amanda’s face. “I don’t know about any of that.”

  “There is a Paul Dobbins buried in the same plot. Did you know that?”

  She looked away. “I don’t know nothing about that.”

  “Dobbins isn’t an uncommon name.”

  Amanda studied her shoes. “I guess you be right.”

  “Did our good pastor have family that lived up here before you came?”

  “Not that I know, but that man be as secretive as he be mean.” She looked troubled.

  “Any strange stories about this Ella Creek Settlement or the people that lived there?”

  A quiet settled between us for a minute. “The only thing I can think of was Clyde talking about the Clarks. They lived next to him and had a little girl. There was a story about how the little girl’s grandmother, Ma Clark, had been a slave and good friends with the lost colored girl’s mother. Clyde said the little Clark girl was always complaining about a haint coming into her bedroom at night to look at her. That wasn’t the strange thing, though. Clyde kept up with the girl. She grew up and could pass if she tried hard enough, so she moved to New York. She called herself Mary Beth Clark and dressed real fancy. Right before the bad storm five years ago, she came breezing through looking for Clyde. I told her he had died a while back. Something about that girl just rubbed me the wrong way, and I wasn’t jealous. It was like she held herself above me. But she was right sad Clyde had died. Tight on her arm was a white man, so I figured she’d been playacting in her new life. Seems she’d come to Black Mountain to visit her grandmother’s grave and something about needing to look through the old house. Well, nobody cared a dern thing, so she snooped around up there. I guess she got what she came for, ’cause she left right off this mountain and never came back again. Like I said, something about her was wrong. Off.” Amanda looked at me. “That’s the only story I know about Ella Creek.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, I woke up with the feeling someone had been in the bedroom with me. How silly. The sun streamed in the window and the sky was blue. My boots sat next to my desk. On a blank sheet of paper was childlike writing: THE ANGEL. Now I was writing in my sleep.

  A knock on the door made me jump. “Wait just a minute.” I slid on my pants from the day before and tucked in a clean blouse. “I’m on the way.” Someone had to be sick. I grabbed my boots, frowned at the sheet of paper again, and went to answer the door.

  Zach stood there in his uniform.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  He smiled. “I can’t just show up for a visit?”

  “You wouldn’t,” I answered, and motioned him into the front room. “What is going on?”

  “Well, first it seems your friend Pastor Charles Dobbins—”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  Zach gave me a stern look. “I know that. He came into the office late yesterday afternoon to report his wife and daughter had been kidnapped. He suspects his maid has hurt them.”

  “Amanda? How stupid.” I sat down and began to put my shoes on.

  “I suggested maybe they left of their own accord. He became quite irate. He also said he believed you had something to do with their disappearance.”

  “Oh my gosh. He was here yesterday afternoon. I told him I didn’t even know they had left. I went to see Amanda. She was fine, but not very helpful.”

  “I warned him to lea
ve you and his maid alone. I didn’t mention our suspicions.” He looked at me. “I have more of the story.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “This part came from my sister, who always remembers things better than me. She remembered the story our grandmother told about the Danielses.” He watched me close. “It’s about Amelia Daniels.”

  “Really, she’s the one who lost the Negro girl who worked for her.”

  “She’s your connection to the good pastor.”

  A prickle ran across my hair. “How?”

  “She married Paul Dobbins, a fourth-generation Episcopal minister. He was here visiting the church and met Amelia, marrying her within a year. Then he took her off to New Orleans. He was an oddball, just like his grandson Charles Dobbins would be.”

  “Paul Dobbins?” I echoed.

  Zach nodded. “Sis said. He insisted on being buried near Amelia when he died. She’s buried in the family plot up the mountain a little. Paul Dobbins wasn’t much of a minister or husband. There was a lot of talk about him killing a Negro girl who was pregnant. Of course that was just part of the story Grandma told, along with him having a cross stolen from him, a cross with a diamond in the center.” He looked at me. “It seems two of the current Dobbins men come off unstable. Charles Dobbins’s father is known for his like of other women. He’s also terrible to his sons. Like father, like son. Maybe.”

  “Makes sense.”

  Zach nodded.

  “And we know he was sent here to the mountain for his possible involvement in the death of the young Negro girls in Georgia?”

  “No, that’s not the whole reason. I heard back from my friend in New Orleans. He did some more snooping around. Charles Dobbins was accused by a member of his father’s congregation of making unhealthy advances on a fourteen-year-old white girl as soon as he came back from his revival in Georgia. The girl’s father was well-off. Within a day, Charles’s father had decided to ship him off to Black Mountain.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “He’s a loose cannon. It seems he threatened to kill the youngest brother, Lenard, who happened to visit a week or so ago. Told him he’d kill him rather than let him stay on the mountain.”