The Moonshiner's Daughter

by Donna Everhart

  As I got out, she said, “Your daddy, I know what he does. A man’s got to do what he thinks best to provide for his own. I’ll be back in a few days.”

  Her car rattled down the driveway, and I was left feeling out of sorts about my time with her, about how she seemed to know what I needed, while appearing to condone what Daddy does. The front door was shut, so I went around back noticing how quiet it was, like old times before Uncle Virgil and all them came here. There was no TV blaring, no yelling, no doors slamming. The trucks were gone; no one was here. The phone rang and I hurried inside to answer, only it stopped as soon I reached for the receiver. I scanned the table and the kitchen counter for a note to say where they’d gone. Nothing. I went down the hall to see if Merritt and Oral might be in the bedroom. It was empty. The phone started ringing again.

  I hurried down the hall, picked it up, and said, “Hello?”

  Silence.

  I repeated, “Hello?”

  Nothing. I hung up, and a few seconds later, it rang.

  I answered, “Hello!”

  Crunching noises came through like somebody biting into a bone. I hung up, and when it started again, I believed someone was playing a game. This time when I picked it up, I didn’t speak. Heavy breathing, then the sound of someone snickering in the background, confirmed what I’d thought. I slammed the receiver down, and when the ringing started once more, I counted to twenty before I picked it up. Without bothering to listen, I set the receiver down on the counter. Who else could it be but a Murry? The idea one of them was dialing our house line felt like they were right here with me, able to see what I was doing. I wished I was still with Mrs. Brewer, or that someone would come home, even if it was Uncle Virgil and Aunt Juanita.

  I walked to the shed while chipmunks raised a fuss, and two crows communicated from the trees as if tracking my progress. I sat on Sally Sue’s bumper, and after several minutes passed I went back down to the house, and stared through the door at the receiver lying on its side. I went in and down the hall and, as was habit, ran my fingers over the fingerprints on the wall before stopping at Daddy’s bedroom, calling to mind the memory of Mama. It went like this sometimes, as if her spirit begged for acknowledgment from me, or maybe it was only me believing I needed to know her, although I couldn’t explain that longing any more than I could explain Uncle Virgil’s for shine.

  I opened Daddy’s bedroom door, but didn’t go in. I hesitated at the threshold, taking in the double bed covered in an off-white bedspread, the lamps on the nightstands, the water stain visible even from here, the dresser where a handful of change sat in a small porcelain dish, the journal, a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of aftershave. What wasn’t there, had never been, was the ghost of her, some distinguishing fact of who she’d been. I hated when I got in this yearning state, like the hunger I fought against, and the uglier side of it.

  I shut the door, and went to my room. Aunt Juanita was real particular about herself, but since they’d been here, I’d learned she was a slob when it came to housekeeping. The room was a mess. The bed wasn’t made; the entire area smelled like an old cigarette from the overflowing ashtrays on my dresser and nightstand. Clothes they weren’t wearing were tossed all over the place, including the floor. I kicked them out of the way, picked up the ashtrays, and took them to the kitchen, where I dumped them out in the trash can.

  Back in the room I pushed the curtains out of the way so I could open the window. Setting in a corner on the windowsill was a tight roll of money, held by a rubber band. I picked it up, rolled off the rubber band, and counted five hundred dollars. Daddy’s money, I was sure of it. A vehicle drove around the back of the house and I hoped it was him and Merritt. I made a split-second decision, went back to Daddy’s room, slid the drawer open on his nightstand, stuck the money inside, and shut it. Let him find it, and wonder. It might draw his attention to what was happening, and while I didn’t like how it was made, I believed I hated stealing even worse.

  Back in the kitchen I found out it wasn’t Daddy and Merritt, but them. Uncle Virgil instantly changed the atmosphere from calm to turbulent, milling around, too agitated to sit. Aunt Juanita saw the receiver on the counter, and put it back in the cradle.

  Uncle Virgil hollered like I was hard of hearing, “Where’s your daddy at?”

  He waved a pint jar in the air, half-gone, lending reason as to why he was yelling.

  “I don’t know. I just got home.”

  Uncle Virgil went back to his pacing and ranting, while Oral was extra-quiet, watching his daddy surreptitiously. Uncle Virgil spun around, and handed him the jar.

  He said, “Have you some of this. It’ll put hair on your chest. Let’s hope it does and covers that shit up.”

  Oral gave his daddy the sort of look intended to send him to an early grave but took the jar. He tipped it up and the tendons in his scrawny neck rippled as he took a swallow, then another, and another. Uncle Virgil tried to snatch the jar from his hand, but he ducked out of his way. It was like watching TV with them around. I sat down at the kitchen table, my chin propped on my hand, to see how this was going to play out.

  Aunt Juanita said, “Shut up, Virgil. It ain’t his fault. And you better hope the same don’t happen to you after what you done today.”

  Uncle Virgil said, “Like hell it ain’t. If he hadn’t run off, it wouldn’t have happened. It’s all right, though. I done took care of it.”

  Oral drained the jar and slammed it on the tabletop, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

  Uncle Virgil gazed at it with a sad expression and said, “Shit if he ain’t done drank it all.”

  Oral, mouth twisted, eyes bright and shiny, worked his mouth over words he wasn’t brave enough to say, even with all that liquor in him.

  Aunt Juanita said, “You’re a fool, sometimes, Virgil. You could’ve waited like Easton said, waited until the time was right.”

  “Hell, he ain’t never gonna do a damn thing nohow. You’d think after what happened to him years ago, he’d be the first one to want to give’em what’s long overdue.”

  Oral, emboldened by shine, said, “I’ll shoot’em next time I see one of’em.”

  Aunt Juanita reached over and grabbed his arm.

  She shook it and said, “It’s bad enough your daddy’s acting like a fool; you don’t need to start too.”

  She let go of him, and Oral, wearing a devil-may-care grin, revealed the gap where his tooth had been knocked out, like that oddball character on the cover of the MAD magazine I’d seen in town.

  Aunt Juanita said, “If anything else happens, Virgil, I’m going to Mama’s. I ain’t sitting around here worried sick over what they might do next. One more instance and I’m leaving, and I might not come back.”

  Uncle Virgil looked like a puppy that’s been kicked. “Aw now, honey pie . . .”

  “Don’t ‘honey pie’ me! I mean it, Virgil, dammit!”

  It was a wonder she hadn’t left already, but there was money involved, and Aunt Juanita was inclined to stick around if for no other reason than her share of the benefits. I was wary of what Uncle Virgil meant.

  I spoke up, and said, “What do you mean, you took care of it?”

  It was like he’d forgot I was there. He flinched in surprise and turned toward me.

  “Huh?”

  “What you said a minute ago, said you took care of it. What did you mean?”

  Uncle Virgil turned walleyed as he tried to focus on something solid. The sharp scent of shine came off him like he’d bathed in it, and he swayed like he was on a ship.

  He scratched at his head, and repeated what he’d said. “Huh?”

  Aunt Juanita said, “Oh, for crissakes, Virgil, how much have you had?”

  He whirled around, stumbled a bit, and said, “I’d a had more if little dipshit here hadn’t drank the rest of it!”

  Oral whined, “You told me to!”

  Uncle Virgil was never going to recollect what he’d said. The moment was lo
st in his pickled brain forever. Daddy’s truck pulled up and Uncle Virgil weaved his way over to the back screen door.

  He said, “Hey ho, there’s the king of the castle. Let’s see what all he thinks about it.”

  Aunt Juanita said, “Virgil, you don’t need his approval for nothing you’ve done. You’re a grown man. You acted out of necessity. You’re only protecting what’s yours, and that’s your family.”

  Uncle Virgil stopped in his tracks.

  He turned to her as if it was only dawning on him he had a reason. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Aunt Juanita shook her head in despair. He went outside, fingers hooked in his belt, standing wide-legged like he’d been on a horse. Uncle Virgil’s confidence was riding moonshine high. Daddy and Merritt got out of the truck, their faces sweating like they’d been climbing a few hillsides.

  They came in and Daddy sounded tired when he said, “We couldn’t find anything. They got them other stills hid good.”

  Uncle Virgil said, “It ain’t necessary nohow.”

  Daddy said, “What do you mean it ain’t necessary?”

  “I done took care of things.”

  Daddy, in a low voice, said, “How?”

  “I went to see them agents myself. Told’em everything they needed to know.”

  Daddy said, “What is it you know? You don’t know shit. Wait, you went talking to them smelling like you done been soaked in alkihol?”

  “Hell, we can’t be waiting on you, that’s for damn sure.”

  Aunt Juanita said, “That’s right or maybe we’d still have some place to live.”

  The phone rang.

  I said, “Somebody’s been calling here.”

  They talked over me and the ringing.

  Daddy said, “I wished you hadn’t done that.”

  Uncle Virgil said, “Why the hell not?”

  The phone jangled again, and Aunt Juanita flapped her hands at me in an aggravated manner. “Ain’t you gonna answer it?”

  I said, “Why? It’s been ringing on and off since I got here. Nobody says nothing when I pick it up.”

  She marched over, snatched the receiver off the cradle, and yelled into the mouthpiece, “What?”

  She listened, head bent, and after a few seconds she said, “Don’t you dare be saying that!”

  She dropped it and it hit the counter, fell over the edge, and dangled in midair. Daddy and Uncle Virgil quit arguing. Merritt came over and sat at the table with me, while Oral had put his head down onto his folded arms. He’d turned a little green, but his mama’s reaction got his attention. He straightened up in order to see what was going on.

  She whirled around and said to Uncle Virgil, “Some man” —and she pointed at the phone like it was the person she meant—“he said things to me, nasty things.”

  Uncle Virgil grabbed her arm. “What do you mean, ‘nasty things’?”

  Aunt Juanita pulled away, and shook her head. “I can’t repeat what he said. It was vile. He told me he’d best not catch me alone, if that gives you any idea.”

  Uncle Virgil’s entire body puffed up like he’d taken in a bunch of air and couldn’t let it out.

  He grabbed the phone up and screamed into it, “I’ll kill you!” and slammed it down.

  His face was splotchy and he pointed at Daddy.

  He said, “Getting them penitentiaried is too good for’em. Ever since Elk Creek, hell, even before then, they been acting the fool. Don’t know when to quit, never have.” Uncle Virgil’s gaze drifted over to me. “It ain’t helped matters none when somebody round here thinks they’re smarter than everyone else. Thinks they know more than the adults.”

  I rose taller in my chair as Oral turned a nasty grin on me.

  I said to no one in particular, “Some funny stuff’s going on up the hill there,” wiping that irksome smile off his face.

  Aunt Juanita made a hissing sound and looked as if she could’ve knocked me into next week. They hadn’t considered I could turn the tables.

  Daddy said, “What in the hell you talking about, Virgil?”

  Uncle Virgil hesitated while Aunt Juanita and I had a stare down with one another. I didn’t blink, and I was ready to tell Daddy about them taking money, ready to deal with the consequences of what happened if I had to. Aunt Juanita broke eye contact with me and waved a hand at him.

  She said, “Oh, hell, he’s drunk is all. He’s running his mouth, crap coming out of it like a broken sewer line. Ain’t it right, Virgil?”

  She said his name low, and hard. Uncle Virgil rubbed his cheeks, then tugged on the end of his chin. He was at the back door, and I saw how he wished he could walk out, go on down the road, leave all this behind.

  She said it again, a higher note tacked on the end, a warning. “Virgil?”

  The money situation had ahold of him bad as Aunt Juanita.

  He put both hands up and said, “You know what? I don’t reckon I’m drunk enough just yet.”

  He went out and opened his truck door. I could see him from where I sat, unscrewing the lid off another jar he pulled out from under his front seat. Daddy exhaled and turned to me and I braced myself for his questions.

  He said, “Where did you and that Brewer woman get off to?”

  Relieved, I said, “Down to some gas station where we ate tamales.”

  Merritt said, “What’s a tamale?”

  I said, “It’s this cornmeal-wrapped thing, shaped like a tube, with ground meat in it, some kind of sauce too.”

  Merritt licked his lips as if he could taste it, and I was about to tell him how good it was except Oral made a horrible retching noise.

  Aunt Juanita yelled, “Oral, dammit, don’t you dare puke in here! Get in that bathroom!”

  He got up, took one step toward the door, lost what he drank and then some right there on the floor.

  Aunt Juanita wrung her hands. “Dammit, what a mess!”

  Oral darted down the hall, hand over his mouth, while Daddy motioned at me. With dread, I stood.

  He said, “Come on with me.”

  Merritt, giving a disgusted look at what Oral threw up, said, “Can I go too?”

  Daddy shook his head. “Not this time. Help your aunt clean that up best as you can.”

  Merritt slumped, turned a surly eye on Daddy, while I was sure this was it. The moment of reckoning, the moment when Daddy would say he needed to get to the bottom of all that was happening.

  I said, “What is it?”

  He went outside without answering, and I dragged my feet as he led the way up the hill. We passed by Uncle Virgil stretched out under a pine tree, head against the trunk, the jar of moonshine resting on his belly. It wasn’t until he saw where we were going that he struggled to sit up.

  Daddy stopped for a second, and said, “Your boy’s done got sick in there. Might want to go see about it. You ought not let him drink.”

  We came close to the shed, and I waited for him to show me the peculiar areas. Instead, he tossed me the keys to Sally Sue.

  He went to the passenger door to get in, and said, “You drive.”

  Flabbergasted, I said, “What? Why?”

  “Just do as I say.”

  I tossed the keys onto the seat on his side, and said, “No.”

  He picked them up, and said, “What is wrong with you, Jessie?”

  “Nothing, except I ain’t wanting to drive this car.”

  “Why not?”

  I didn’t answer.

  He said, “Why you got to be so stubborn about everything? Why can’t you do as I ask for once without being hard to get along with? It ain’t no better time than now for you to learn, considering.”

  “I got my reasons.”

  “You don’t know everything there is to know.”

  “Maybe that’s because you won’t tell me.”

  “Fine. You want me to tell you about your mama, then get in the car.”

  His sudden agreement stunned me. This time when he tossed the keys back to me, I caught
them. I wondered if he’d seen my hands shaking and, if he had, could he guess why. This time, it had nothing to do with my eating habits, but pure excitement and fear, one equivalent to the other, wondering what he’d say. I got in the driver’s seat. I didn’t know where we were going, and it didn’t matter. He was going to tell me about my mama, and that was all I cared about.

  Chapter 19

  I’d always known Sally Sue was a beast of a car. Riding in her was one thing, but behind the wheel the power beneath the hood became evident. We bumped down the drive until we were out on the road, where I lapsed into driving like Mrs. Brewer, intimidated by the vehicle. The usual puny beating of my heart, generally reminiscent of a finger lightly tapping, changed to something more like a big fist pounding against the wall of my chest. My stomach galloped along too, both dueling for my attention.

  Daddy, oblivious of the internal commotion caused by his words, said, “You’ll get used to the feel of her quick enough. Head on over to Lore Mountain Road.”

  I gripped the steering wheel tight, and ran my tongue across dried lips. I was only going about twenty-five miles per hour, but Daddy said nothing. After a few miles, I gave it more gas, and you’d have thought I’d mashed it to the floorboard as the car surged forward.

  Out of nowhere, he said, “Your mama drove this car.”

  He spoke like we were in an ordinary conversation, like he’d been talking about her every day, while I tried to grapple with that small tidbit of knowledge.

  “She did?”

  He stared straight ahead, his voice quiet. “She drove it better’n me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She ran our liquor. Got so good couldn’t hardly nobody in Wilkes County beat her when it come to hauling. Not any revenuer, and definitely not a Murry.”

  I’d been so intent on what he said, I’d unwittingly pressed on the gas more, and my speed rose to fifty. I let off some, while I digested she’d sat right where I was, Daddy maybe riding shotgun alongside her. I tried to imagine it, and couldn’t. But I didn’t want to hear she was a part of what I’d turned against out of respect for her. I didn’t want to hear she’d done the very thing I’d decided was evil and caused most of our problems, what I’d fought against, at least to the best of my ability. It rubbed me all kinds of wrong, and my anger soared with this new information. I was in denial.