The Moonshiner's Daughter (ARC)
Page 19
Uncle Virgil said, “We’re gonna let this little mole keep
working; that’s what we’re gonna do. There’s more where this come from, and we’re gonna get what’s due us.”
Oral said, “It ain’t no telling how much. I been watching
him on the sly. It ain’t gonna be hard to find more.”
Aunt Juanita said, “What about Jessie? Where’d she go?”
Uncle Virgil said, “Good question.”
I scurried back down the hall, through the kitchen, and
outside. I went straight to Uncle Virgil’s truck, opened the door, and made like I was just climbing out. The three of
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them stared at me through the screen. Did I look innocent
enough? Uncle Virgil came out, followed by Aunt Juanita
and Oral.
He said, “Girl, you white as a sheet, like you done seen
something you shouldn’t. You seen something?”
I thought he meant Oral’s find until he reached down to
grab Aunt Juanita’s backside. She lightly pushed on his shoulder, almost playful, smiling. They all wore silly little grins, an irregular occurrence but it appeared the money had tweaked
their outlook. Oral’s threats kept me silent, only this moment was too much, even for him. For once in his life, his daddy
liked something he’d done, and it made him bold.
He said, “She ain’t seen nothing, right, Jessie?”
Uncle Virgil gave him an odd look, and said, “Huh?”
Oral believed his daddy was talking about the money.
Oral said, “Nope. Not a thing.”
Uncle Virgil’s gaze shifted from me to Oral and back again.
Oral was like a rooster with the itch to crow first thing in the morning. He was going to have his moment, determined to
hold on to it for as long as he could.
He laughed and said, “She’s gonna act like she’s blind.”
Uncle Virgil said, “What in the hell you talking about?”
Oral hesitated. He reminded me of Uncle Virgil, angling
for his best opportunity, a way to utilize the moment afforded him to get what he felt was his due.
Oral finally said, “She ain’t one of us. She’s a traitor is what she is.”
Uncle Virgil was getting impatient.
He took a step closer to Oral and pushed him. “What do
you mean, boy?”
Oral said, “She won’t talk ’cause she’s already been talking.”
Aunt Juanita said, “To who?” and Uncle Virgil said, “Yeah,
to who?”
Oral said, “Some revnooer.”
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Uncle Virgil half-laughed, half-snorted, and I took advan-
tage of his doubt. This was Oral, after all.
I said, “He only thinks he knows something.”
Oral said, “I know one thing. She’s the reason our house
got burned down.”
Uncle Virgil gaped in disbelief at me while Aunt Juanita
drew herself up, and said, “By God, I sure hope not!”
Oral said, “That’s right, and it ain’t all neither. She was
gonna ruin Uncle Easton’s stills. That friend of hers said so.
They got in an argument about it.”
Uncle Virgil went stone-faced, like when Daddy reminded
him he needed to get a job.
He said, “That a fact? Well, shoot fire, maybe your daddy
was right about you all along. He didn’t believe you that night the truck broke down.”
I said, “I was telling the truth.”
Uncle Virgil said, “Sure. Sure. How about the rest of it?
What about our house, you cause that? Did you go to some
revenuer?”
Aunt Juanita said, “I bet she did. She’s always acted uppity, like she’s better’n everybody.”
It felt like ages before Uncle Virgil said, “I tell you what. You ain’t gonna say a word because way I see it, your daddy’s owed me all along, and even more so now. What’s fair’s fair. We’re gonna get what’s ourn, and you’re gonna keep quiet about it.”
I despised Daddy making shine. It and the money that
came from it was fouled, not only because I believed it caused Mama’s death, but because it was also the source of every
problem we’d ever had. Yet somewhere deep within me, an
angry injustice at what they thought they could do, a tiny
spark that ignited, began to burn.
I hunkered down in the living room, steering clear of the
kitchen where Aunt Juanita and Uncle Virgil parked them-
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selves, speaking so low I couldn’t make out what they said,
which was bothersome. I missed my room, wished for a ha-
ven. I had nowhere to go, so I sat on the couch, with the TV
off, staring at the wall or toward the window. Every now and then movement caught my eye, and it would be Oral grinning at me every time he passed by the living room door. It
was infuriating. When I heard Daddy’s truck, I got up and
moved the sheer aside to get a better view, wondering what
Merritt’s new arm would look like. He got out, sulking, and
pale-faced. I’d thought it would resemble a hand, and instead, there was the flash of silver, the shape of a hook.
Merritt stood different, crooked, one shoulder dropped
lower in an awkward pose. He bent his body like he wanted
to get away from the harness attached to him, not that much
different than what you’d put on a mule or a horse. Daddy
said something, but Merritt ignored whatever it was and made his way toward the house. They came up the steps, and once
inside Merritt wouldn’t meet my eyes. I didn’t mean to stare, yet I couldn’t help it. Here was Merritt, supposedly made
whole again with something no better than attaching a board
to his body by all appearances.
I said, “Does it hurt?”
He headed for the kitchen without answering me. Daddy
and I followed, watching as he sat down at the table, refusing to look at anyone or at the hook. Uncle Virgil, Aunt Juanita, and Oral studied the new contraption with expressions of surprise, like it was some strange device laid on the table for them to examine. Uncle Virgil reached over and took hold of the
hook and lifted it. Merritt let him, like he didn’t want to associate with it, like it didn’t belong to him and he knew not a thing about it.
Oral said, “How you supposed to do anything with that?”
Daddy said, “Oh, it’s gonna work good, right, Merritt? No
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different than your thumb and other four fingers. Doc said it was like a pincher.”
Merritt sat stone-faced.
Daddy said, “Here, show’em how it works. Might as well
start getting used to it. Doc said the more you practice, the easier it gets.”
Merritt used his left hand and turned the hook a certain
way, then did a funny shrug of his shoulders to get it to open and close. It made a clacking sound, like knocking two spoons together. He worked on grabbing the edge of the newspaper,
lifted his shoulder up and down, performing all manner of
gyrations to grip it. It was a process. Shrug, click, shrug. After a minute, he pinched the edge of the paper
with the hook. As Daddy watched Merritt go through these movements, he’d
mimic him, going one way, then the other, like he wanted
to do it for him. Aunt Juanita and Uncle Virgil sat slack-
mouthed, the same way they did when watching a movie on
TV. Merritt flipped the paper over, which I guess was what
he’d been attempting to do, and once he’d accomplished that, his eyes trailed around the table, reading expressions.
Oral, confused, said, “But what else can you do?”
Merritt said, “This.”
He lifted his right shoulder, and the strap that was wrapped around his left dropped off and hung by his waist. He grabbed it with his left hand, yanked it back over his head, pulled the other part that kept the wooden arm attached to his stump
off. He’d removed the arm in much less time than it took him to try and grab the paper. He discarded it on the table like it was a pile of junk he’d found on the side of the road. He got up, and went to his room, and shut the door. Daddy rubbed a
hand over his face.
He said, “It’s gonna take him some getting used to it. The
doctor said it’s a matter of practice, just like in baseball.”
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Oral said, “It’s like a pirate’s hook.”
Uncle Virgil said, “I bet it gonna cost a pretty penny.”
Daddy said, “It don’t matter. He needs it.”
Uncle Virgil said, “Least you got plenty of money, huh.”
Daddy had been staring after Merritt, and now he faced
Uncle Virgil.
He said, “It always comes to that with you.”
Uncle Virgil said, “Well, I got reasons,” and then he
leaned over and tickled Aunt Juanita. She let out a ridiculous-sounding giggle.
Daddy said, “So I’ve heard. Over and over. It’s why you
need to get out and get you a job.”
Oral said, “Or a shovel.”
I really had to marvel at how he was so good at opening
his mouth, letting crap just fall out of it. He sure lived up to his name. Aunt Juanita gave an imperceptible shake of her
head, but Uncle Virgil made some god-awful noise as if he’d
let loose a demon, and when he jumped out of his chair, it
startled all of us, except Daddy. He sat with his arms folded, observing the chaos as it unfolded. Uncle Virgil whipped his belt off in a split second and grabbed Oral by the arm almost in the same motion. Oral’s eyes bulged with alarm and then
fear. I believed Uncle Virgil might wrench it clear out of its socket when he jerked him from the chair. He began thwack-ing Oral with the belt while Oral screamed and begged for
mercy.
“Please, Daddy! Shit! Daddy, quit, stooooppppp!”
Aunt Juanita pulled on Uncle Virgil’s shirt, yelling at him
to “stop! Virgil, ain’t no need for this!”
Uncle Virgil’s arm went up and down like a piston, faster
and faster as his anger won out over reason. It wasn’t a whipping. This was a beating.
Oral was beside himself with pain, and in between the
screams came, “I’m . . . gonna . . . tell . . . it!”
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Uncle Virgil released his arm, and as soon as he was free
Oral whipped around and tried to punch him. Uncle Virgil
raised his arm, threatening to start again, and Oral bolted out the door. Uncle Virgil flopped into a chair, letting the belt hit the floor.
Daddy said, “Damn. Was that necessary? And what’s he
talking about a shovel?”
Uncle Virgil kept his wits about him enough to say, “Shit if I know. Maybe he wants me dead.”
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Chapter 17
Oral didn’t come back that night, or the next day. Aunt Juanita and Uncle Virgil were unconcerned as they sat at the table on the second morning, a Sunday, drinking coffee, and yawning. I mean, the gall they had to face Daddy knowing they
held on to his money. The sun was up, leaking through cracks in the curtains, offering warmth, and the kitchen could’ve
been cheery but for the inhabitants of this one.
Daddy said, “Reckon we ought to go look for him?”
Uncle Virgil was disinclined to move.
He said, “He can take care of himself.”
Aunt Juanita nodded. “He goes camping sometimes. Bet-
ter check the fridge and make sure he didn’t sneak in here last night and get him some weenies to cook over a fire.”
Daddy wasn’t buying it. “Unlikely he’s camping after that
ass whupping you gave him. He went out of here like a scalded dog.”
Neither one of them reacted, something that stood out to me.
Uncle Virgil said, “He’ll show up when he gets good and
hungry.”
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“What if he’s in trouble? He could be hurt.”
Aunt Juanita nudged Uncle Virgil. “Virgil, you yourself said he can get into more trouble than ten young’uns stuck in a room together. Maybe you ought to go see if you can find him.”
Uncle Virgil raised his hands like he was under arrest. “A
pain in the ass is what he is.”
Aunt Juanita sniffed, and said, “Wonder where he gets that
from.”
They fell silent. I pulled the oven door open, and retrieved a pan of biscuits, my mind half on the conversation, half on the aroma that filled my nose and caused my stomach to
growl. I was drinking that newfangled tea Mrs. Brewer kept
plying me with, but to me, it only increased my urge to eat.
I pressed the top of a biscuit and wished the kitchen empty. I visualized splitting each one open, laying on butter thick and creamy, spooning fresh peach preserves Daddy brought back
from Mrs. Naylor in North Wilkesboro (who always got a jar
of his shine for her cough, so she said), and at the same time, the thought was repulsive, sickening even, as the other part of my compulsion resisted.
I was so into my thoughts, I jumped when Aunt Juanita
said, “Jessie, you gonna bring’em over here, or stand there
petting on’em?”
I took the pan to the table and set it down, then went and
leaned against the stove. I sipped on more of the tea and tried not to watch them eat. My stomach groaned long and loud,
and I set the cup down so I could press on it. Merritt came
into the kitchen at that moment, his empty shirtsleeve flap-
ping loose, drawing Daddy’s attention.
He said, “Son, where’s that new arm?”
“It ain’t comfortable. It hurts.”
“You got to get used to it and it ain’t gonna happen if’n you don’t wear it.”
Merritt sat and lifted a biscuit using his left hand. He did a Ever_9781496717023_2p_all_r1.indd 171
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fairly decent job prying the top off. He ignored what Daddy
said, a peculiar thing since he generally hung on to every
word. Aunt Juanita and Uncle Virgil filled their plates, but Daddy didn’t.
He got up from the table and said, “Big Warrior ought to
be ready. What’re you doing, Virgil?”
Uncle Virgil took his time spreading butter on his biscuit
like he was painting a masterpiece, while still chewing on the previous on
e. It was obvious he didn’t care to lift a finger, not when he had that bundle of Daddy’s money hidden away.
I detected an argument coming and turned to look out the
window only to stare in shock at the figure on the back steps.
Oral sat hunched over, the back of his shirt torn. He shook
like it was freezing, but I’d already seen the outdoor ther-
mometer and it was in the mid-seventies.
Still watching him, I said, “Y’all, Oral’s out here on the
back steps.”
Chairs scraped the floor; they rushed outside. I went out,
and circled around so I could see Oral’s face. He didn’t move, even as Uncle Virgil grabbed him by the shoulders. Oral’s
mouth was bloody.
He said, “Boy, what’s done happened to you?”
Aunt Juanita bent down and said, “Oral, honey?”
Oral shrank from Uncle Virgil, and didn’t speak.
Uncle Virgil shook him, demanded an answer. “Who done
this?”
Daddy said, “I bet I can guess, but let him tell it, if he will.”
Oral put a hand up to his mouth, and wiped. His fingers
came away with the blood that had caked there.
Aunt Juanita said, “Honey, open your mouth.”
Oral turned to her, his face bruised and puffy. He opened
his mouth, and revealed he was missing a front tooth, and his lip was split. Uncle Virgil grabbed at Oral’s hands and examined his knuckles.
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He dropped them like he was disgusted, and said, “You
didn’t even get in one lick to them sons a bitches who done
this to you?”
Oral tucked his hands into his armpits. He had nothing to
say, a rarity. Uncle Virgil’s face flared as if his insides were boiling, and he clenched and unclenched his hands like he
might tear into Oral again. Aunt Juanita intervened and got
hold of Oral by the arm.
She said, “Come on with me. We’ll go rinse your mouth
out with salt water.”
Uncle Virgil smacked a fist into his hand, and said, “He ain’t got to say it. I know who’s responsible, and by God, I ain’t putting up with it.”
Daddy said, “Hang on now, Virgil.”
“What? You think I’m gonna let this go?”
Daddy said, “We got to think about how to handle it, not
make things even worse.”