But her hand was dead in his. She drew it away and he heard her stand. “If you aren’t carrying me back, I will have to walk, but since you know these woods so good, please lend me your flashlight.”
He threw the beam on her face and said “Sweet Jesus” to what he saw—which was no Rosacoke he had seen before. She looked straight down at his light, not seeing him behind it, not hiding any more. Then she opened her mouth, thinking only if she could speak, the hate on her face would break into something gentler like regret. But all she could do was hunch her shoulders, and if Wesley in the Navy had sometimes forgot how she looked, he wouldn’t forget again.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“I’m all right,” she said and started for the road.
Wesley had some dressing to do before he could follow so Rosacoke walked to the edge where the briars began and waited while he caught up behind her with the light. When he was two steps away and the light spread round her feet, she moved on again, not slowing once and with every step, her front leg striding from her raincoat just beyond his light as if she couldn’t bear its touch either. Wesley let her go that way till the path widened out where the spring should be. Then he came up beside her and said, “How about us stopping a minute to see is the deer been stirring the spring?” and he laid his arm along her back.
“You ain’t studying deer,” she said and ran on to the car.
Not knowing whether she would wait or walk on home, Wesley took his time. He walked to the spring and shined his light down in it. The deer hadn’t passed that way, hadn’t stopped anyhow. The vines were in place. The water was clear and the bottom was clean—most likely since the day of Mildred’s funeral. But there was one broken stick, half in, half out. The underwater half was furred with tan sediment, and on the black half above was a single ugly moth, the color of the sediment. It was still—the moth—and Wesley knelt to touch it and see was it dead, but it took a little bothered flight and settled on the stick again. It had lasted two frosts so he let it sleep, and since he was kneeling he bent all the way and laid his mouth to the spring and drew three swallows of water. Then he stood and said to himself, “It will run on clean another two weeks. Then the leaves will take over.”
He had taken his time because he thought he knew what Rosacoke’s trouble was and—if she had waited—how to ease her. And when he got to the car, she had waited. She had also straightened her hair, but her face was the same so he drove that last little way in silence. Not a frog was left in the pond nor a dryfly in the trees, and the nearest noise was the singing at Mount Moriah (if they were still singing), but that was behind them now, and Rosacoke gave no sign of wanting the talk she asked for before. She watched the road. But Wesley had one thing to say which he thought was gentle and which he thought she needed, and when he turned in the Mustians’ drive, he stopped under their big pecan tree and said it. “Rosa, you got to remember that the way you feel is a natural thing after what we done. It’ll pass on off in a little, and you’ll feel good as you ever did. I guarantee that. And if we was to do it again sometime, it wouldn’t last nearly as long—you feeling sad, I mean, about what we done.”
“We ain’t done nothing, Wesley—” She might have explained if they hadn’t heard the front door slam. The porch light was off but what they saw was bound to be Milo coming towards them. He stopped halfway, just looking at the car, and Rosacoke said, “I got to go. He’s worried about me.”
“He ain’t worried now,” Wesley said. “He knows this car.” And Rosacoke might have believed him and sat awhile if Sissie inside hadn’t just then switched on the light and stepped on the porch and stood. The light didn’t reach out quite to the car, but it struck along Milo’s back—him facing them with his hands at his sides, working, and his head all dark but his hair lit up.
“I’m going,” she said and opened her door. She was out on the ground before he could move, and she whispered, “Now leave here fast. Milo is mad at you anyhow, and I don’t want him seeing your face.”
“Well, are you all right?”
“I’m all right. I was just mistaken. But so were you—my name hasn’t never been Mae.” And before he could open his mouth, she had walked off towards Milo, standing with the light against his hair (his hair the color it was). When she came close enough to show her face, he would know why she looked the way she did. He wouldn’t speak of it to her or sing his advice again. He would just walk in behind her. But later in the night (in bed when he got chilly) wouldn’t he roll over on Sissie his wife and tell her what he knew? Which would make four people that knew—Rosacoke herself and Wesley Beavers and Milo her brother and Sissie Abbott his wife who was big as a fifty-cent balloon.
* * *
MONDAY afternoon was clear and cold, and Wesley hitched himself to Norfolk, not seeing Rosacoke again. But that weekend he sent this letter.
November 10
Dear Rosa,
It is way past time good boys was all in the bed but I am still up so will just write a line to say I’m back on the job. (I was last week, I mean, which don’t signify I’ll be there tomorrow if I wake up feeling like I expect to.) Also I am writing to know wouldn’t you like to come up here Thanksgiving if you get any time off? The reason I ask is I won’t be coming home again before Xmas as the only time I have off is Thanksgiving and some folks I know are throwing a big party that weekend. A lot of my friends have left for good. That’s what living in a Navy town means. But there is enough left to keep the ball rolling so why don’t you come on up for the holidays? You could stay at your Aunt Oma’s or I could get you a room in the boarding house where I stay—that would suit me better.
What’s suiting me right now though is my bed that’s waiting so good night Rosa. Say hello to everybody for me. I’m sorry I didn’t see Milo. What did you mean about him being mad at me? I’m hoping I’ll hear from you soon and see you in a little. Hoping also you have got over your blues from last Sunday evening, I am
Yours for a good night’s sleep, Wesley
Two evenings later when Rosacoke came home from work, Baby Sister ran out to meet her. She said, “Guess where you got a letter from?” But Rosacoke didn’t ask. She walked straight to the living room and spoke to Milo who was nodding but who woke up to watch her read the letter. It was propped on the mantel, but Rosacoke waited, warming her hands at the stove. When she finally looked and saw Wesley’s writing, she took it and started upstairs. Baby Sister said, “You don’t have to go in the freezer to read it!” (meaning there were no fires lit upstairs), but Rosacoke went and turned on the one ceiling light and lay on her bed with the letter in her hand, wishing she never had to open it, knowing—whatever it said—it would call on her for some awful answer. When she read his first line, she knew what the answer was and wrote it out then.
November 12
Dear Wesley,
No my blues are not over. What makes you think they ought to be? Everybody in the world doesn’t feel the same as you. I don’t think I have ever felt the same as you about anything except the weather—even then you don’t sweat when it’s hot—and sure thing I don’t feel like spending my little Thanksgiving on a Greyhound bus bumping back and forth to Norfolk so I can tag behind you to a party full of folks I don’t know and wouldn’t want to know if I met them, including Mae. Anyhow Mama and Aunt Oma are not on speaking terms so I couldn’t stay there and thank you very much but I won’t be boarding at your place either. I have been deer-hunting once already and once was enough for me.
Sincerely, Rosacoke
She addressed it and stood it on her own mantel by the picture of her father as a boy—where the one of Wesley had been. But she didn’t seal it. Her habit was to let letters cool overnight and read them one more time in the morning. And in the morning she tore it up, not because what she said was wrong but because maybe she should wait. How could you just say “No” that way after waiting six years to say “Yes”?
She waited five days but nothing changed really—not for her, not inside—s
o on Saturday night she sat down in the kitchen to write again, not thinking what she would finally say or how, not knowing how she really felt, but thinking maybe things might change the way Wesley said if she just wrote the news of that bad week and put Wesley’s name at the top.
November 16
Dear Wesley,
Thanking you for your letter that I’m sorry to take so long to answer but we are having a right busy week here, especially as Sissie has been having her baby on and off for the last two nights and all day today. No seriously, she started up Friday evening—yesterday. She was three days overdue yesterday. And those three days have been a real experience for all of us—the evenings anyway with nothing to do but sit and watch Milo trying to cheer up Sissie. We got through the first two evenings somehow till Milo finally said he was tired and took Sissie off to sleep (they have been sleeping downstairs in Mama’s room for ten days in case of emergency) and we started last night as usual—Sissie had spent most of the day lying down but rose up at sunset to eat with us. When we got through that I volunteered to wash dishes and the others went on in the living room. I took my time in the kitchen but when I couldn’t find another thing to wash, I joined them. Baby Sister was just finishing her part of the entertainment—a description of her wedding plans (age 12, just dreaming). She had got as far as the music arrangements. All the music she wants is “Kiss of Fire” and alot of Gupton children laying down pine cones in her path. I sat down and took up my knitting (I am knitting Sissie a bed jacket) which was the signal for Milo to make his remark about what a dangerous thing it was making Sissie a bed jacket because once Sissie got down didn’t we know how hard it would be ever to get her up? (The truth. Last winter she reacted to roseola like it was pellagra.) We laughed some at that, even Sissie who has been more sensitive than usual lately (setting a new world’s record). Then there was a lull and everybody stared at their own lap, glad of a few minutes peace. But it didn’t last. Sissie gave a little moan and lurched in her chair to show the baby had just rearranged itself. Milo said, “Is he traveling again?” (Milo knows it’s a boy) and Mama said, “He must be hungry” and stood up and said she would serve the dessert now—we had all been too full after supper. So she went off and came back with cherry Jello which we have eaten right much of lately, it being what Sissie craves—lucky she craves something cheap—and while we were eating that, somebody knocked on the door. It was Macey Gupton and Arnold his brother (the bachelor with no palate that you may never have seen—they don’t show him off much). Macey and Mama are both deacons at Delight and they are the committee to select the gift the church will give Mr. Isaac at the Christmas pageant when he retires as Chairman of the Board of Deacons and Macey had come by to say he was driving up to Raleigh on Saturday and would get the gift if they could decide what it ought to be. Milo met them at the door and invited them in like prodigal sons—so happy to see anybody that might bring Sissie cheerful relief, much less Macey Gupton who had sat by and seen Marise have baby after baby like puppies. So they came in and took their seats. Arnold took a rocker as far out from everybody as he could get—it was like having Rato back. They had Jello and then everybody commenced asking what to get Mr. Isaac. Macey said didn’t we think it ought to be something useful? There was discussion on that but nobody came up with anything that would be any real use to Mr. Isaac in his condition. Milo said, “Get him a wife. That is what he has needed all these years”—and asked Arnold if that wasn’t so. Arnold just grinned and kept on rocking but Macey said he was serious and was thinking of something big like a wheel chair to replace that leather one Sammy totes. Milo said, “Hold on. What does a rolling chair cost?” Macey said, “Alot but we could collect a little from every member.” Milo said, “Do you realize, Macey, that if Mr. Isaac wanted a rolling chair, he could buy a sterling silver one easy as you and I can buy a cigar?” Mama said that was the truth and that she thought it would just upset Mr. Isaac to spend so much on him now so late in life. Milo said, “Yes and do you know what he’d rather have than anything you could give him?—a sack of horehound candy.” Everybody laughed, knowing it was true—it is what we give him every Christmas—and seeing he had hit a snag with his rolling chair, Macey changed the subject. He looked over at Sissie ramrodded in her chair (nobody had looked at her since the Guptons arrived) and said, “Well when is it going to be?” Sissie said, “It ought to been three days ago.” Mama said that was just the doctor’s guess—that it would come when it got ready. And Milo said, “Ready or not, he better hurry up. He’s got to make room for the other nine.” He asked Sissie if that wasn’t so. She said it could be if he would do the having. Macey said children were like socks—you couldn’t have too many and if you did you could have a rummage sale with the surplus—but he wondered if they hadn’t started right late. Milo said, “No. I timed it beautiful. He is coming just in time for the pageant.” (This year is Sissie’s turn to be Mary and Milo keeps saying she can use their boy for Jesus.) But Sissie said, “Kiss my foot. You are not timing this baby and don’t be a fool about Christmas. Even if I have this baby and am well enough to be Mary, I am not taking it out in the December night at age six weeks to be Baby Jesus or anybody else.” Macey looked back at her and said, “Smile, honey. You haven’t got nothing to worry about. You are built very much like Marise and Marise has babies like a Indian-lady.” I had been watching Sissie through the whole discussion and I knew the end of the rope was coming soon. Well it came right then—Sissie stood up quicker than she had done anything for weeks and said, “I may be big as a house but Marise Gupton is one thing I am not” and then walked out and on upstairs before any of us could stop her, stairs being the last thing she should have climbed. Mama and Milo went up behind her, leaving me and Baby Sister alone with the Guptons to smooth over Sissie’s performance. I said a few excusing things such as “Poor Sissie, her nerves are skinned bare with waiting” but my heart wasn’t in it and naturally Macey felt uneasy at touching off the scene. He sat there pecking his teeth and listening to hear Sissie bellow and Arnold just rocked faster and faster till he rocked up nerve to say he was sleepy and how come they didn’t leave? Macey looked like he wanted to—by the nearest exit—but he felt compelled to stay till somebody came down and reported on Sissie so we sat on in silence till Milo arrived to say she was resting though not speaking, which would do her good, and for everybody to sit still and we could play a little Setback. Everybody sat and Milo was getting out the card table when Mama came in. He asked her, “Has she had it?” Mama took a look at the card table and said, “No and playing cards under her isn’t going to make it come easier.” But Milo went on setting up the table and then looked round. I could see right away what the next problem would be. Milo said, “Arnold, can you play?” Arnold said “Yes” and Milo said, “Who is going to hold the fourth hand?” Baby Sister volunteered but Mama said, “No ma’m. Sit still.” So Milo looked at me and rather than let the evening fall through any further, I said I would. Well we played. Milo and I were partners against the Guptons and I wish you could have seen us. Arnold cheated like we were playing for lives which of course meant they won time after time but that didn’t matter. We were just helping the clock go round and when it had gone to about 9:30, I could see Milo was tired of playing. He asked Mama (who had sat there and smiled at Arnold’s cheating like it was a judgment on us all) if she wasn’t planning to serve something to our company? She said there wasn’t a thing but more Jello though it would be a different flavor. Arnold asked if she had a few cold biscuits and some syrup but there wasn’t a biscuit in the house so everybody took Jello and just as we started eating, Macey said we ought to get back to deciding on Mr. Isaac’s gift. Milo said, “First let me just see does Sissie want some of this” and went to the foot of the steps and hollered to her. We all listened and there was no answer so Milo, instead of climbing the stairs like a human being, said louder, “Sissie, do you want to come down and eat some nice Jello with us?” From behind closed doors, Sissie said “No”—lo
ud. Milo turned round to rejoin us but just as he stepped in the door, Sissie followed her “No” with a yell that turned into “Mama”—she mostly calls Mama Mrs. Mustian. Milo went white and said “Mama, you go.” Mama said “Come on, Rosa” and I followed her, knowing I could be no help. Sissie was lying there scared to death and crying easy so as not to upset whatever would happen next. Mama sat down by her and started soothing and told me to call Dr. Sledge and tell him the waters had broke (if you know what that means). I went down to call and Milo was waiting at the steps to know was Sissie dead. I told him live and then called Dr. Sledge and told him what Mama said. He asked me alot of questions but I couldn’t answer any of them and he said in that case, he would be out as soon as he could. Milo had gone upstairs while I was on the phone and when I hung up, Macey was standing behind me. He had heard what I said and just wanted to tell me it was nothing to worry about. I said I was glad to hear it and hoped everything would be over soon, meaning that as a hint for him and Arnold to leave, but he said, “Sometimes it don’t come for a day or so after this”—and walked back in the living room to wait for Milo. I knew I would be all thumbs upstairs so I followed Macey and took a seat. Macey of course wanted to discuss having babies and how Marise did it but Baby Sister was right there on the piano bench which put a damper on him. It wasn’t till he gave up trying though that we all missed Arnold. He was gone from his rocker and didn’t answer when Macey called his name so Macey went looking for him and came back in a little to say he was sitting out in their truck in the cold—scared and saying he wouldn’t come back in. “He’ll freeze solid out there,” I said and Macey said, “Yes I’m fixing to take him home but I’ll come right back in case you all need any help from an Old Hand.” There was nothing to say but “All right.” Macey was looking forward to a Setting-Up more than I was, especially as I was the one person present who had to work Saturday morning but anyhow he went on off to put Arnold to sleep and Baby Sister said why didn’t she and I make some candy so we did that—fudge, and before we got it in the refrigerator, Dr. Sledge came. He examined Sissie and said exactly what Macey had said—nothing bad had happened and things had more or less started but they might not end for a day or more. He sat awhile with Sissie to ease her mind. Then he came down and we gave him some of our candy and while he was eating it, Macey returned, bringing best wishes from Marise. Dr. Sledge asked Macey what was he doing here and Macey said he had come for the Setting-Up. Dr. Sledge said, “I thought you had enough of those at your place” and he and Macey commenced expert talk about when it would come. Dr. Sledge said he had no idea it would be before morning and he would just have to leave and see a few people that were bad off. Then he asked me to step out and call Milo and when Milo came down, he repeated all that to him. Milo of course wasn’t happy at him leaving but Dr. Sledge said there wasn’t a thing he could do for Sissie till pains started and when they did, there would be plenty of time for him to get here. So Milo resigned himself and said, “Macey, you’ll stay with me, won’t you?” Macey said “Sure” and Dr. Sledge went up to say a few soothing things to Sissie before he left. I wish he had said a few more to Milo because the minute he walked out the door, Milo commenced twitching—and not a thing to worry about with Sissie resting easy and Mama sitting beside her, knowing all she knew about babies—but he got worse and worse till Macey said, “What we ought to do is just get Mary Sutton to come spend the night.” (She has midwifed all her life and helped all of us get born.) That suited Milo fine so he and Macey took off by foot to get Mary, not saying a word to Mama or Sissie. Things were quiet the whole long time they were gone but when they came back, Mary was with them and she had brought Mildred’s baby with her (Estelle not being home to keep him). She had put blankets in a cardboard box and laid him in that and when she got to our place, she set the box down near the woodstove in the kitchen and went upstairs to see Sissie. Just having Mary in the house seemed to settle Milo’s nerves and he and Macey took seats in the living room and went on talking. Baby Sister and I stayed in the kitchen. By then it was nearly midnight and things being so relieved with Mary here, I was thinking mostly of how soon working time would come and Baby Sister was getting wall-eyed from lack of sleep so I told her to go on in Mama’s room and stretch out there and I would join her in a little. (She was scared of going upstairs where Sissie was.) She asked me to wake her up when it came which I promised to do and then she went, leaving me in the kitchen with nothing but Mildred’s baby and him doing nothing but breathing in his sleep, laid back in his box, the color of Mildred. (They are just calling him Sledge. I still haven’t heard what the last name is, if any.) And sitting at the kitchen table with the room so warm and no noise but what laughing came through from Milo and Macey, I nodded off and didn’t wake up till after 2 a.m. when Mary tipped in to feed Sledge. He hadn’t cried. She had just waked him up and given him the bottle and he was half-done when I came to. Mary said Sissie was asleep and Milo and Macey were nodding in the living room so why didn’t I go on to bed? I watched her put Sledge down and then I went in Mama’s room with Baby Sister and slept like death till Mama shook me at 6:30. She beckoned me into the kitchen and asked me was I going to work? I said, “Not if you need me here” and she said there wouldn’t be a thing I could do now that Mary was here so I told her to stretch out by Baby Sister and gather her strength (she hadn’t shut her eyes all night) and then I tipped upstairs to dress, past Milo and Macey who were nodding stiff-necked in chairs, but when I came down again, Mama was frying me some breakfast. I wasn’t hungry but I didn’t mention it. It would have just started Mama arguing and waked up Sledge. He was sleeping sound when I left—the picture of Mildred, already the picture—and it wasn’t till I left that I knew how glad I was to leave and not have to sit there all day, waiting for Sissie to go off like a dynamite cap. Well I worked hard through the morning and didn’t get to call up home till lunch. Baby Sister answered and said there was no news yet and none in sight so I didn’t call again but waited till I could get home and see for myself and when Mr. Coleman let me out on the road at six, I could see there was some sort of news to hear as every light in the house was burning and every chimney smoking and Dr. Sledge’s car was there and when I got closer I could see the fire from one cigarette on the porch. It was Milo standing in the cold. I walked up to him and said, “What is the news?” He said, “All I know is, it started at one o’clock and hasn’t got no better since.” It is 9:20 p.m. as I am writing this sentence and things have gotten worse and worse with Sissie yelling closer and closer together till now I don’t know when she finds time to breathe. It seems alot to ask her to bear, her being a raw nerve all her life. And it isn’t easy on any of us—not now it isn’t. Mama and Mary—at least they are upstairs with the doctor working but Baby Sister and I are just sitting here in the kitchen and have been since six. Nobody wanted a mouthful to eat so I have been writing on and on to you and Baby Sister has been rocking Mildred’s baby and singing him songs like he was hers (I know she wishes he was and the way he lets her handle him, maybe he wishes so too) and Milo just penetrates back and forth through the house—and out in the yard when the yelling gets extra bad. (He has always said, nothing happens to people that they haven’t asked for. Well he asked for a boy but I don’t guess he bargained for so much noise.) Awhile ago he asked me what would calm nerves. I told him a dose of ammonia but he took camphor and got no relief and has gone back out somewhere. I am wishing Macey was here with him (he has gone to Raleigh for Mr. Isaac’s mystery-gift) because Milo is the one with the burden now. Mama is pouring the ether to Sissie so fast she doesn’t know what is happening. I don’t guess she does though the way she sounds through plaster walls lets everybody know she is not having fun. Even Mildred’s baby can hear her. He is tuning up to cry this minute, meaning hunger, so I will stop and fix his milk. Baby Sister drops him like a hot potato when he cries.
A Long and Happy Life Page 10