When he came back to Ellis, the little boy was drooping, his mouth slightly open, his eyes betraying how bad off he really was. Jim wrapped him in a quilt and sat him on his lap as he rocked through the night. It was just as he had done nearly eight years before. Ellis was no longer a baby, but he was still small enough to curl up comfortably on Jim’s lap.
He rocked him and sang to him. “Oh by baby. Oh by baby. Oh by baby by oh baby…” he sang softly.
After a while, Ellis asked for a drink, and as soon as he sipped it down, it came right back up again.
Jim touched his brow and felt an instant panic spread through him. “You’re burnin’ up.”
He swabbed his face, neck, and chest with a cool cloth, holding him tight as he tried to figure on what he should do. As he rocked the boy, he began to pray. “Lord, don’t take him from me. Please, Lord, don’t take this child from me.”
The recollection of the dying rabbit from the previous day spooked him. He recalled the words he had said to Ellis of how dying was part of living. Thoughts of Edith played with his senses. Jim had held her with delicate care just like Ellis had held that rabbit as its life slipped away. He thought of losing Ellis too and was nearly in a panic. He could not lose Ellis! The thought was too terrible. This boy was his only salvation, his only reason for living.
When the sun came up, he left Ellis long enough to feed the animals and milk the cow. Then he took him, still bundled in a quilt, into his arms again. Laying him down in the bed and making him as comfortable as possible, Jim lay down next to him and watched him sleep. Now and again, he would place his open palm on the boy’s back to reassure himself that Ellis was indeed still breathing.
“I learnt my lesson, Lord. I learnt it good. Don’t go and make me learn it again,” he mumbled. “I can’t stand to lose him. I can’t stand for it, hear?”
He was so filled with dread and fear that he contemplated whether he should take Ellis into town to Doctor Fielding’s place. Was it scarlet fever? Perhaps typhoid? He didn’t even want to consider polio. And just like that, this child that he had grown to love, this little son of his, could be taken away. How fragile, how fleeting this mortal existence was.
In an attempt to appease God, he began to make bargains. If only you will spare him, let me keep him, I will be a better man. I will make up for the mistakes I have made. I will raise him right. I will help him turn out better than I did. Yes, he will be a better man. I will see to it.
Physically exhausted and worried half out of his mind, Jim somehow managed to calm his frazzled brain enough to drift off to sleep for a short while, his arm over Ellis’s small frame. When he woke, he was alone in the bed.
He rolled off the side of the mattress and sat up, trying to get his bearings all over again. “Ellis?” he called out. He got up and went into the other room, but still no child. He called out again, “Ellis?” He went to the front door and opened it, looking out over the yard. And there was Ellis, chasing the dog and laughing out in delight.
“Ellis,” Jim said, trying to get his attention.
“Daddy, ole Lobo got a squirrel!” he said, proud as could be.
“Ellis, I thought you was sick.”
“I ain’t feelin’ so bad now, Daddy.”
“You ain’t sick no more?”
“Not a bit,” Ellis confirmed. “Fact is, I’m awful hungry.”
“Well, come on in then, and let’s get you somethin’ to eat on.”
It must have been nothing more than a twenty-four-hour bug. In his panic, Jim had feared the very worst: losing Ellis. To have him die as his wife and daughter had, to be alone again. He never wanted to be alone again. The push and pull—one minute the world was ending, the next everything was as it should be—there was no accounting for it. He was given more time with his boy, more time for him to turn nine, and then ten, and then eleven.
Chapter 7
AS JIM WATCHED WITH PRIDE, Ellis grew into a man. One day he was a child, innocent and curious about the world around him. The next day he was fifteen, and he needed to be shown how to shave because he was growing facial hair. Gone were the days of rough play and the unconditional adoration of a little one. Jim now had a man to guide. He felt what all parents felt: a strange mixture of regret and a longing to keep him small and dependent, along with a pride in his progress and a desire to help him along so that someday he might be independent and able to care for his own needs.
Horse-drawn wagons were beginning to fade from the streets of town, and Jim, through sacrifice and saving, acquired a truck the summer that Ellis turned fifteen. A nice, nearly new, 1922 Red Baby service truck that ran well and was a useful addition to the farm. Jim held out longer than some, but had finally managed to save up enough for the coveted machine.
In order to teach Ellis how to drive, he took him out to a wide open field to let him practice. As they were bouncing along in the tall grass in a steady downhill descent, he decided that it was a good time to talk to his son about the inevitable interest in girls. Because just as dying was a part of living, so too was procreation.
For a time now, Jim had thought that he should bring the matter up, but he’d been reluctant and had put it off and put it off. Confronting the issue and discussing it with Ellis would be shedding the innocence of childhood for good. Couldn’t he keep him young for just a little longer? But then he had noticed Ellis making eyes at Callie Roberts in church on Sunday, and he realized that he would rather talk about it now before it was too late.
So he cleared his throat and did his best to keep his voice from shaking, not wanting Ellis to sense his nervousness about the topic at hand. “Ellis, there’s somethin’ I wanna talk over with you.”
Ellis kept his eyes forward, completely focused on the task of driving. “Yeah, Daddy?” he said absently.
“Well, now, you’re growin’ to be a fine young man,” he began, thinking back frantically to what his own father had told him on the issue. But it wasn’t much, certainly not enough to draw from in order to broach the subject with his own son. “And now that you got ole enough to understand it, I wanted to talk to you ’bout…well, ’bout what a young man needs knowin’.” He put his hand on the wheel and steered it gently back on course. “Keep it steady now.”
“Yeah, Daddy?”
“Now, when a boy gets to be that age, it’s only natural and right he starts to thinkin’ ’bout what it means to settle down and have a family. And, well, I know you prob’ly figured there ain’t no cabbage patch where babies come from no more.”
Ellis still seemed unaware of his father’s intent. He was rotating the wheel this way and that, weaving his way down the hill in happy ignorance. “Don’t suppose they do.”
“Now, son, here’s what I got to say on it. Every boy wants to know what all goes on ’tween a man and a woman. Only natural. But now, it’s a serious thing. Somethin’ you don’t take light, you hear?” he said, trying to keep the nervous edge from his voice.
Ellis turned his attention from the windshield and passing scenery to his father, his face full of concern. “What you tryin’ to say, Daddy?”
“I’m sayin’ you treat a girl right, and you treat her with respect. A girl ain’t no object to have for your pleasure. And a decent ’un don’t want no boy takin’ liberties when it ain’t his right. A girl needs to be treated good, and talked to nice, and given no cursin’ nor rough treatment to, hear?”
He looked up and saw Ellis was headed straight for a tree near the edge of the clearing. “Look out!” he called.
Ellis stamped the brakes and came to a screeching stop. They sat in silence for a time, both shaken.
Jim took a deep breath and tried again. “What I’m tryin’ to say is—”
“I know, Daddy,” he said in exasperation, attempting to end the conversation.
“You don’t, son,” Jim said firmly but gently. “And it’s my duty to tell it ’cause I do know.” He paused for a time, trying to find the right words for saying what needed to be said. “A fel
ler don’t got business foolin’ round with a girl ’less he’s done right by her and took her to be his wife before God and a preacher. The good Lord done made us better’n them animals. You don’t take a girl ’cause you got an itch to like a dog do. You take her ’cause you love her. That’s the way it’s done. Understand?”
Ellis nodded dumbly, his fingers clenching the steering wheel in a death grip.
“It’s a serious thing to take a power of creatin’ into your hands. A serious thing. Can be life or death even.”
“Like Mama?”
“Well, yeah, like Mama. But a baby is a life. A life you answer for if you was the one that done the doin’. And don’t you go takin’ that on till you’re ready to ’count for a child and for carin’ for a family and a woman, see?”
Again, Ellis nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, looking as though he had been waylaid by the turn of events. He finally managed to get out the words, “Yes, Daddy.”
As an afterthought, Jim added, “And now, don’t go runnin’ with any of them whores and such. Nothin’ good’ll come of it.”
The two of them sat listening to the engine idle for a time. And then Jim, having said his piece, broke the silence again. “Swing her round and take us on back home.”
Ellis turned the wheel, pulling the truck around in a semi-circle as he headed back toward the house.
“That’s it,” Jim encouraged. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”
Part II: Germination
Chapter 8
Early Fall of 1934
THE FIDDLE AND THE BANJO rose together in a pleasing whine that lit the place on fire with excitement. Ellis recognized some of the songs that the Carter Family, Blue Sky Boys, and Clinch Mountain Boys were known for. A makeshift stage, comprised of bales of hay, towered above the crowd. A young girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood on the stage, played a guitar, and took turns singing with a middle-aged man. Their voices sometimes mingled in the tight harmony of a duet. The mood was infectious. Ellis could hardly contain himself and was barely able to keep his feet from jigging as he walked into the barn.
He was a man now. Not an overly tall man, but there was something in his character and stance that made him seem as though he had more height when he walked into a room. His jaw was square, as was his chin. His eyes were a deep brown and seemed to perceive many unspoken things. The quiet of them could make others uncomfortable, as his thoughts weren’t always clear or obvious. Those eyes now gazed around the room as he took in the scene before him.
He saw Clifton Davies and Forster Montgomery right off. They were hard to miss with their loud laughter and rowdy behavior. The two of them were shoving one another, bumping into people who were crowded into the tight space. Clifton tapped a man on the shoulder who was in the midst of dancing. Judging from the reaction on the man’s face, he seemed very annoyed, and then Clifton burst out laughing as he moved on along to his next victim. Ellis wasn’t sure if he cared to join them. They tended to help themselves to the home brew that the older men kept in a crock jug out of general view. They made good corn liquor, coaxed to life in a still, seasoned in wooden barrels, hidden somewhere in the woods.
Clifton and Forster were the boys that were closest to his age, and there they were, still a trio of bachelors. It was embarrassing to be lumped together with them. They never took anything seriously. They were perfectly fine with fooling around and shirking responsibility. As much as he liked them, he didn’t want to be one of them. It hurt his pride. There were plenty of people packed into the space for Ellis to choose from, but Forster and Clifton were the boys he was most comfortable with, the boys he had grown up with.
Then he saw Fergus Bayard hanging back by the wall, brooding and sullen. He didn’t reckon he wanted to hang out with him, either. Fergus was skinny and slight of frame and was always looking for an excuse to mope, it seemed. Despite the music and laughter and throng of folks in a joyous mood, tonight was no exception. Fergus stood, as always, with the top button of his collar buttoned to just below his chin, with his hat drawn low on his brow, and his face displaying a look of inconsolable sadness.
It looked as if the whole county had shown up: young children, old married folk, some he recognized, some he didn’t. He laughed a little to himself when he saw Purvis Little dancing with some young thing half his age. Purvis was a widower who was on the prowl for a woman to raise his brood of seven. Ellis felt a bit sorry for the girl. She looked awfully uncomfortable in the arms of a man old enough to be her father.
Purvis had some acreage next to Ellis’s daddy’s place. Not as big as his daddy’s place, but then Purvis wasn’t very good at caring for what he had. He was the sort of man who let his children run wild over the hills unsupervised and basically left to raise themselves. He was the sort of man whose crops never did well because he never tended them properly. He was the sort of man who left his tools lying about in the yard to rust and ruin. Yes, Purvis didn’t own much land because he couldn’t handle much land.
Ellis quickly lost interest and turned his attention from foolish Purvis to the rest of the crowd. His eyes fell upon Dulcie Mae Prewitt, and with some annoyance, he saw her looking at him. Ellis was startled. He felt a shock run through him as their eyes met. But Dulcie Mae, with her deep green eyes, stared back unashamed. Her face was carefully neutral, although those green eyes held a curiosity that was barely perceptible. But Ellis saw it. He knew her well enough to detect it. He turned his gaze from her quickly, unwilling to let it linger there, somewhat ashamed that she had caught him watching her. He hated himself for getting caught but hated her more for being there in the first place.
Even as that thought popped into his head, he knew it wasn’t true. He had, at one time, wanted her. Oh, how he had wanted her. Truth be told, he still wanted her.
Seeing her now brought a rush of fragmented memories. He recalled a stolen kiss in the afternoon sun as they were returning from the well with a bucket full of water. She had sloshed water onto the front of his britches, making it look suspiciously as if he had wet himself. Her laughter had trailed behind her as she ran, giving him many a backward glance to see if he might pursue. He remembered the brush of her hand against his and the tingling sensation it had left on his skin. The way her touch awakened his senses and made his body feel alive was the thing he missed most of all.
He recalled another time with her. She had been wearing a white dress, her honey hair fanned out on the grass as they picnicked next to the creek. Dulcie Mae had lied to her mama and told her that she was visiting a sick friend. Ellis had lain next to her upon that perfectly green grass, sucking her delicate earlobe, caressing her face with his hands, delighting in the soft feminine curves of her cheeks and lips. He’d nearly been unable to concentrate on the words she whispered with a moist, pleasant tickle against his skin as she ran her fingers along his neck, through his hair.
Ellis allowed himself these memories as small indulgences before he chastened himself for letting his thoughts go too far. She was a married woman now. She was wife to Homer Pond, the son of a wealthy tobacco broker, and she had been for the past three years. Yet every time he saw or thought about her, he felt bitterness well up within him, felt the inevitable reaction of his pride colliding with his anguish. He had seen her only a couple of times since she had gotten married and moved away. Ellis had asked her to marry him. She had said no. Her mama and daddy didn’t approve of him, something he never quite understood. She refused to go against them—a good daughter who would not question them.
He told himself that it was her parents that had been their undoing. He wanted to believe that she had loved him as he had loved her. It hurt less that way.
He felt oddly out of place because young men his age were usually settling down, getting on with their lives. By twenty-three, his own daddy had gotten himself a farm and a woman, and they’d been expecting their first child. And here he was, twenty-six, empty handed and alone, a man who longed for a woman who belo
nged to another man. She would never be his, and he still felt the sting.
Yet, Dulcie Mae’s rejection had been positive in that he had gotten determined about things. He had taken the money his daddy had set aside for him and had put a down payment on a fine piece of land not far from where he had grown up. While it was rough around the edges, still needing a lot of clearing, he was proud of it because it was his. The house he and his daddy had built there was a crude thing—one large room that served as the kitchen and sitting area, one bedroom off of that—but it had a nice covered porch that ran the length of the front of the house, a place where he could sit and just be. Eventually, if he wanted or needed to, he could add on and make more room for a growing family someday.
He figured his getting a farm and showing signs of becoming responsible would make him more respectable in others’ eyes, prove his worth, but it hadn’t entirely done so. While Ellis never understood other people’s aversion to him, he suffered from it nonetheless. They were mistrustful of him. They had no respect for him, and he felt it, maybe even knew deep down inside that something was amiss, but he had grown up being treated in such a manner; it was normal to him.
He ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair in annoyance and moved away from the door as he was nudged by others trying to come through, and out of spite, he asked the first girl he saw to dance. He hoped that Dulcie Mae might be watching him. He wanted her to know that he was good and over her, that she held nothing over him. The girl with him seemed pleased to dance, but she kept jabbering and laughing loudly. It was messing up his rhythm. He couldn’t concentrate on the music. He wouldn’t ask her to dance again.
The next song, he picked a new partner, one who was pretty good. He knew her a little. It was Arlene Lee’s little sister. Her name was something like Agnes or Alma; he couldn’t recall for sure. All of the children in that family had names that began with the letter A. She smiled at him pleasantly. He didn’t want someone to smile at him. He didn’t want to flirt or talk or meet new people. He just wanted to dance.
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