by Alex Bledsoe
“I really was serious, though. I need to find locations.”
She slipped her arm through his. “Don’t you worry, I have plenty of things to show you.”
* * *
The walk through the woods was positively lyrical. There was no trace of Sadieville’s ugly industrialization, or any sign of civilization at all. The trail wound through the forest, around boulders and large trees, up and down hills and along ridges until at last the Conlin home was in sight.
For most of the way, Sophronie held Sean’s hand. It was a loose grip, her fingers threaded through his, but she never let go and occasionally gave him a quick, affectionate squeeze.
For his part, he had to resist the urge to look at her, drinking in her clean, soft beauty and the sun-kissed skin she so blatantly exposed. He’d never met a woman so at ease in her own body; the women who flocked to the Jersey shore wore bathing suits that looked more like Puritan nightgowns, and while he’d met plenty of actresses willing to shed their clothing, some at a moment’s notice, even they had not been as relaxed, as free, as this poor uneducated mountain girl.
When they reached her family’s cabin, the front door opened and a friendly middle-aged woman smiled out at them. “Well, looky what y’all done caught in the woods,” she said.
“This is Sean,” Sophronie said eagerly. “He’s the fella who offered me a job in his motion picture.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Conlin,” Sean said.
“Oh, please, we don’t stand on no politeness around here. You call me Viney. Short for ‘Elvina.’”
“Pleasure to meet you, Viney,” he said.
“And Sophronie, you go put on some decent clothes before your father sees you. He’ll tan your hide good, young lady.”
“Yes’m,” Sophronie said. “I’ll be right back. Y’all promise you ain’t gonna run off?”
“I promise,” Sean said.
She dashed into the house past her mother. He heard giggling, and other female voices. Viney called out, “You heathens leave your sister alone, she’s got company!” Then she turned to Sean. “She’s got two sisters and three brothers. They’ve been known to pick on each other.”
“Brothers and sisters do that everywhere,” Sean agreed.
“You missed breakfast and you’re a mite early for lunch, but if you’re hungry I reckon I can whip something up.”
“Oh, don’t do anything special on my account.”
Before Viney could reply, two teenage boys ran around a corner of the house and skidded to a stop.
“Heard tell a Yankee was here,” the older one said breathlessly.
“Is that you?” the younger one said, peering at Sean as if he was a zoo exhibit.
“Hodge, Randy, act like you been to town before,” their mother said. “This is Mr. Sean.”
They both stood up straight and stuck out their hands. Sean shook them firmly and said, “Pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.”
“Are you really a Yankee?” the older one, Hodge, asked.
“I am.”
“Where you from?”
“Fort Lee, New Jersey.”
“A fort?” Randy said. “So you’re a soldier?”
“No, I make moving pictures.”
They both looked blank. “What’s that?” Randy asked.
“Something neither of you need to bother him about,” Viney said. “Git.”
The boys dutifully turned and ran off the way they came.
Viney sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give for a fraction of that energy. But that ain’t no matter, come out of the sun and have a seat.” She gestured at a rocking chair on the porch.
From the chair, he could see out across the whole valley. The heavy smoke from Sadieville rose in multiple columns straight up, like prison bars against the blue sky. It was a harsh industrial stain on the otherwise bucolic scene.
“That all used to be ours,” Viney said wistfully.
“I heard. I also heard you got cheated.”
She snorted. “Yeah, I reckon we did, if you’re measuring by money. Right now my husband Enoch’s up in the mine, feedin’ the beast that thinks it killed us.”
“You don’t feel cheated?”
“If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that things balance out in time,” she said. “And time don’t work the same for everybody.”
Sean didn’t know what to make of that, so he just smiled and nodded.
He heard giggles, and turned toward the door. Two girls younger than Sophronie peeked out at him, then vanished when they saw him watching.
“Young ’uns,” Viney said, and shook her head. “If I could get ’em to wash their necks, I’d wring ’em. Would you like a drink of water, Mr. Sean? Or something harder?”
“I wouldn’t mind some water,” Sean said.
“Revonne!” Viney called. “Go down to the well and bring back a bucket of water.”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Sean protested.
“Giving an idle child a task ain’t no trouble, it’s a blessing.”
Yet another young man came around the corner of the house. He was older, almost grown, and carried a fiddle and bow. “I heard Sophronie brought in another stray,” he said flatly. “Where’d she find this one?”
“Behave yourself to our company, Welton Conlin,” Viney said. “You ain’t yet too big for me to take a switch to.”
Sean stood and extended his hand to the young man. “I’m Sean.”
“A Yankee,” the boy drawled, ignoring the hand. “Don’t that beat all. You down here working with the coal company?”
“No, I make moving pictures.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Like they show in town?”
“Yes.”
“I thought there was only one of those. Judith of something-or-other.”
“Bethulia.”
“Yeah, maybe. So there’s more?”
“Thousands.”
The girl Revonne brought Sean a glass of water. She handed it to him without making eye contact, and as soon as he took it, she ran back inside.
The boy Welton tucked his fiddle under his chin and began playing “The Arkansas Traveler.” Sean recognized it as one of the standard songs that often accompanied pictures in vaudeville shows. When Welton stopped after the first verse, Sean said, “You play that very well.”
“You play anything?”
“No.”
He smiled sarcastically. “Sophronie sure can pick ’em.” He turned and walked off, continuing to play the same jaunty tune.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Viney said. “He’s got a chip on his shoulder ’bout us losing all that land. He’ll warm up to you, if you give him a little time.”
“I’m sure he’s just…” Sean began, then trailed off.
Sophronie emerged from the cabin clad in a light blue dress that was clearly meant for a younger, and smaller, girl. Once it probably reached her calves, but now only came down to her knees. It was also tight in inappropriate places, and Sean could only imagine the scowling reverend’s apoplectic reaction if she wore it to town. With her hair pulled back in a matching bow and her delicate bare feet, she looked both wild and innocent, and it took Sean a moment to find his voice.
“You’re back,” he said. “You look lovely.”
“You’re just full of Yankee charm, aren’t you?” Sophronie said. Then to her mother, she added, “Did I hear Welton out here?”
“You did. That boy’s got the manners of a hound dog with worms. I apologize, Sean.”
“No offense taken,” Sean assured her.
“Sean needs to look for pretty places to make his pictures, Mama,” Sophronie said, “so I’m gonna take him on a walk. Don’t know if we’ll be back in time for lunch, so don’t wait on us.”
“Y’all be careful out there,” Viney said. “Blackberries are blooming early this year, and it’s drawing in the bears.”
“We’ll be fine,” Sophronie said, and took Sean’s hand.
; “Pleasure meeting all of you,” Sean said as she led him off. He still heard the strains of the violin threading through the silent morning, growing fainter as they got farther from the cabin.
15
“Should we really worry about bears?” Sean asked.
Sophronie laughed. “They ain’t got bears in New Jersey?”
“Actually, they do. And in the Catskills, near where I grew up.”
“Did you know that these mountains and the Catskills are all connected?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, see?” she said with a playful nudge at his ribs. “You Yankees don’t know everything, after all.”
At the moment, Sean couldn’t recall knowing anything. Sophronie filled his senses, his attention, and even blocked out his memories of anything and anyone else he’d ever known. As before, he had a difficult time not watching the way her body moved beneath the dress, imagining what that soft, smooth skin would feel like under his hands.
“So what sort of places do you need to find?” she asked as she stopped to pick some wildflowers.
“Places where I can stage the action, but still see the scenery in the background. That ridge where we met this morning was a perfect spot.”
“Why not do the whole thing right there, then?” she asked, as she carefully arranged the flowers into a bouquet.
“Because I know there have to be other beautiful places around here.”
She laughed. “You’re right about that. This whole place is beautiful. We’ve been here for so long, sometimes we forget it. We just see the hard parts, and not the beauty.”
“I think that’s true of everybody. You get used to a place, and you don’t really see it anymore.”
Now they emerged into another small clearing. Ahead was a small cemetery inside a rusted knee-high fence. A half-dozen tombstones stood inside it.
“What’s this?” Sean asked.
“The Conlin family plot,” Sophronie said distantly. “Some of those stones go back further than you’d believe. And there’s people buried without stones who go back even further.”
She released his hand and walked to the fence. He followed uncertainly. She looked down at the newest stone, one with the name TUCKER CONLIN, and the date January 19, 1914.
“Tucker,” Sean said. “Must be a popular name around here. The fellow who gave us that map I mentioned was named Tucker.”
“That ain’t a surprise,” she said.
“Only one date,” Sean observed.
“He never saw another,” she said, her voice now soft and reverent.
“Stillborn?”
“No, he lived a few hours. But he was born too early, and he never really had a chance. We all knew it.”
“Your brother?”
She shook her head.
“Cousin?”
She didn’t look at him. “My son.”
He felt the jolt in his chest. Eighteen months ago, this girl he’d thought of as innocent and unspoiled had suffered a loss he could barely comprehend. And if she’d had a baby, that meant …
“Your husband must’ve been very sad,” he said.
She laughed, a cold and desolate sound. “There ain’t no husband.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, not knowing if he should try to comfort her or not. “It must’ve been awful.”
“I appreciate that,” she said. Then, in the saddest and purest voice he’d ever heard, she began to sing. It was the same melody she’d used during her audition, but the words were fuller, and the sorrow in them almost unbearable:
For it’s there he lies buried,
Within the sounds of the rill,
And when it comes springtime,
There’re sweet daffodils,
And they say if you listen,
When the night starts to chill,
They say how that old whip-poor-will,
How he’ll sing for him still …
She bent over the fence and placed the bouquet on the little grave:
Lost my baby, lost my son,
Lost my only, my only one,
Can’t go back, don’t have the will,
Can never go back to my Sadieville.
So the father had been someone from Sadieville, Sean realized. And now this poor girl had to work in that town, no doubt reminded of her loss every day. Was the man still there, he wondered, or had he skipped out once his misdeed could not be denied?
She rose, smoothed down her dress, and turned to him. Her eyes were dry and clear; she’d expressed all her sadness in the song. “I’m sorry if this all makes you think less of me.”
Sean was not so lucky, nor so strong. Tears ran down his cheeks. “Oh, Sophronie, you’ve got it all wrong.” And he pulled her very gently into his arms and kissed her. She returned the kiss with equal tenderness.
She pulled away enough to look him in the eye. “Some men wouldn’t want a girl who’d been through all that.”
“Some men are idiots.”
“Not you. You’re a good man, Sean.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said with a little smile.
“I do,” she said with certainty. And she pulled him into another kiss.
When their lips parted, she said, “I should warn you, though. Fall in love with a mountain girl and you end up in love with the whole mountain.”
“Both are incredibly beautiful,” he said, and kissed her again.
“There’s more you need to know,” Sophronie said. “Especially since Tucker sent you here.”
“What’s he got to do with it?”
“That’s what you need to know.”
“I know all I need to know about you, Sophronie,” he said seriously.
“No,” she replied with certainty, “you don’t.”
* * *
The trees grew heavier and denser, darkening the forest and somehow making even this bright, sunny day seem a bit sinister. But Sean chose not to dwell on this, or even think about it.
Ahead the terrain broke into the open and rose up, a bare mountainside with a stand of thick hawthorn trees right at the base.
“That’s what I brought you to see,” Sophronie said.
When he looked more closely, Sean saw a cave hidden behind the trees. “The thorn trees, or the cave?”
“The cave.”
“Is it a gold mine or something?”
“Not really. For people like me, it’s the way home.”
“Home?”
“My people originally came from a far place. A very far place. And we came through this cave.” She turned to him, and when she spoke, she no longer sounded like a simple mountain girl. “Remember what I told you about these mountains and the Catskills? How they’re connected?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that all the lands of the earth used to be connected? These mountains around us, your Catskills, and the Highlands of Scotland? They were once the same mountain range. They were all as tall and rough as the Rockies back then. Only as time passed, they drifted apart and wore down, like an old man’s teeth.”
Sean didn’t quite know what to make of this. “Did they teach you that in church?”
She laughed. “The Tufa don’t go to church. There’s not a one in this county. Not even in Sadieville.”
“I met a minister who was trying to build one. He seems to think the Tufa are responsible for its bad luck.”
“I know the one you mean,” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “He tried to church me once. He wanted to show me the glory of the coming of his little bitty lord.”
Sean was horrified, if not surprised. It was one more reason to hate the repulsive Reverend Nashe. “Christ, Sophronie. Did you tell anyone? The sheriff, or—”
“That wouldn’t do no good. They’re all secretly White Caps, so they help each other out.” She put her arms around his neck and looked up into his face. “After all I done told you, deep down you still think I’m half a child, don’t you?”
He’d never h
ad a woman talk to him like this, not even actresses, and the sense of her body against his own pretty much short-circuited his brain. “Uh…”
“It’s okay to admit it. I know what I look like. But I’m a lot older than you think I am.”
He felt himself blush. “I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t mean because I’ve had a baby.” She turned her head and looked up at the cave mouth. “On the day we came through that cave, my ancestor was the last one. And us, his descendants, are the only ones who know where it is. Can’t none of the other Tufa even find it; it’s hid by what you’d probably call a spell. If one was standing right here with us, she wouldn’t even be able to see it.”
He could think of nothing to say.
“My people are supposed to forever stay away from yours,” she said, her voice growing distant. “We’re likely to slip up and enchant you even when we don’t mean to. And once we do, there’s no release.”
He gently turned her chin so that she faced him again. “Am I under your spell right now?”
“If you were under my spell, you wouldn’t have to ask,” she said with a laugh. Then she kissed him again.
“I want to tell you a story, Sean. I may have some of the details wrong, but it’s mostly true. And I think it’ll explain some things.”
“Is it a story about where you said you come from?”
“No, it’s a story about this place, this valley, when my people first arrived. Why we are like we are. It’s one of our most sacred stories, one of our treasures. The thing my family is supposed to protect. That’s one reason I still can’t believe my daddy sold our land, this land we’re standing on, to the coal company.”
She leaned against a nearby tree, looking sexy and desirable and untouchable all at once. “So, a long time ago, the Tufa were exiled by our queen because of … well, that ain’t important. What is important is that the Tufa were sent into a cave back home, and came out of this cave, stark naked and with everything, even our names, taken away. But even like that, we all hoped the Queen might change her mind, and that it might turn out that we didn’t have to stay here. For the time being, though, we were here, so we had to make the best of it.”
She walked up to the cave. “And this story starts a little bit later, with the people who were here in this valley before us. A beautiful girl named Dahni and her little brother stood right where we’re standing now, looking into this cave, not knowing what was about to come out of it, or what that would mean to them, their people, and their world…”