Good Ground

by Tracy Winegar

  Instead of going with his gut and saying yes, he shrugged and gave her an evasive “Don’t know.”

  “Well, now I’m real sorry for it. Didn’t mean to spoil your visit. You think she feels I done her wrong?”

  “Why, Aunt Sissy ain’t the kind that’d hold it against you,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry no more on it. Just only next time, try and not do it again.”

  Ellis chuckled over her confusion with Aunt Sissy’s hair. He was pleased that she was willing to try, at least, to behave properly. She had attempted to do her best to treat his old aunt well. Ellis liked that Clairey was kind. She seemed incapable of malice. He could see that she was making a genuine effort to pull her own weight, to fit in.

  Even during the times when he was most exasperated with her, he could see that it was her simplicity and her lack of worldly experience—and not meanness or stupidity—that caused her to make mistakes. But it seemed that he was always catching her at awkward moments.

  One morning, as she came back from milking, he was watching her from the porch when she suddenly dropped the pail and began a kind of frantic dance, waving her hands wildly about her head. He hurried toward her in the yard to investigate what was the matter. Not paying attention to where she was going in her frenzied state, she ran straight into him, bouncing backward and falling on her backside.

  Ellis extended a hand, meaning to grab her arm and help her up. She cringed, as though expecting a blow. He shook his head in irritation. Did she really think he was that sort of man? It was offensive. Again, he pointedly offered his hand, his jaw set. This time, she reluctantly took it, standing up and brushing herself off.

  “There’s a wasp got after me,” she explained defensively before he even asked.

  “A wasp?” Ellis repeated. But then it registered with him that she seemed ashamed and so fearful only because that had been her long and vast experience in the past. He felt remorse wash over him and was unable to remain annoyed with her. He switched his approach to a gentler one. “You all right then?”

  “Yeah,” she affirmed, looking miserable.

  “Why don’t you go on up to the house, and I’ll get the milk,” he offered.

  She gave him a nod and did as he said. He walked over to the pail and leaned to pick it up. Amazingly, she had managed to drop it straight on its bottom, not even spilling, which he thought was admirable, all things considered.

  Reflecting on the torment that so often registered on her face, he wondered why he was always so hard on her. She was trying, after all. But it seemed that no matter what she did, he was frustrated by her attempts.

  As he examined his motives for being unkind, he admitted that he resented her. Her being forced on him might not have been her doing, but he resented her just the same. As he walked back to the house, he told himself that he was in need of a change of mind-set. He was going to make a conscious effort to show her more kindness, to treat her with respect. He had seen the way her father treated her, and he certainly didn’t want to resemble that man in any way. In spite of his resentment, she deserved better than that. So, Ellis vowed to try to be more understanding.

  Chapter 15

  THE WEATHER GREW WARMER STILL, and a gentle breeze played through the limbs of newly awakened trees where birds began to nest once more. Nature came around again to spring, and Ellis figured it was time to take his new bride to town to buy seed and replenish their food supply. The greening of the land renewed his own energy, and he resolved again to acquire a dozen head of cattle to put in the field he fenced. Now that he had Clairey to help with the chores and care for things in the house, he would plant twice as much tobacco as he had last season. Alone, it would have been a difficult, if not nearly an impossible endeavor to undertake. With her help, he was certain he could make enough profit to completely pay for his animal feed and seeds next spring. With luck, the year after that, he would be able to have the profit free and clear.

  The idea thrilled him and put him in an overly pleasant mood. Clairey was watching the scenery pass by out her window but listening as he prattled. “I aim to plow up that whole field,” he said, sweeping his hand out in a wide arc. “Plant two times what I planted last season. I barra against it now, and I can pay for it in cash come fall when I bring in the crop. And I aim to put some beef cattle in that pasture I done fenced.” He rubbed his fingers along his jawbone. “Now, it’s gonna take some doin’, but I figure ’tween the both of us, we ortta manage it.”

  She listened attentively to his plan, nodding every now and then to let him know that she agreed with him.

  “With the old plow I got and the new plow I bought myself in the fall, we’ll be makin’ faster work of it. We hit town, and I’ll take care of all that, and you can get what you need.”

  “Plumb near outta everythin’,” she answered.

  Along the way, they passed the turnoff leading to the house where Clairey had lived and where she assumed her family still was. If Ellis recognized the place, he made no mention of it, and having found a new and better life, and recalling her father’s cruelty, Clairey had no desire to go back there. She glanced at the rutted road leading through the trees but said nothing.

  The town was a small one, a scattering of businesses lined up neatly on a paved main street. Not much to boast of, but it was better than nothing.

  Ellis pulled the truck up next to the curb in front of the feed store and parked. “I got business with the feller over at the feed store. You go on get your groceries, and I’ll be ’long shortly,” he said and headed off.

  Clairey had only been into town a handful of times in her youth, as she’d been mostly left at home with the younger children or not allowed to go for all the work needing to be done on their farm. What little that couldn’t be provided for them by their farm was generally something that had been beyond their ability to afford anyhow. Besides, her daddy hadn’t much cared to have a child tagging along with him when he did chance to go. The few times she had been allowed to come to town, it had been viewed from the backseat of the car, where she’d been told to stay. Town for her was a place that was full of forbidden things, things that inspired admiration and awe, things she didn’t dare imagine might be hers.

  She recognized the grocery store, but she couldn’t recall ever having seen the inside before. It felt odd now, going into the store. She felt as though she were an outsider, wary of being discovered as an imposter, and so she entered nervously.

  “Mornin’,” the clerk called out as the bell jingled above the door. He was smiling pleasantly until he caught sight of her, and then his eyes grew suspicious and his broad smile diminished to a look of disdain.

  By now, her dress was little more than threadbare fabric. It had been worn and washed so many times that traces of the floral pattern were hardly detectable. The clunky men’s work boots she wore made a terrible clomping sound with every step she took, and the soles were worn through in places. Her face was clean and her hair combed, but the rest of her packaging was far from impressive.

  “Can I help you?” he asked dryly.

  “I just come to get a thing or two,” she said as her eyes wandered over his selection.

  Another woman was shopping with her young son, and she paused to watch as Clairey shyly picked up a can of beets. She took extra care in her inspection of it, admiring the bright red beets portrayed on the label, looking it over with wonder before she set it back on the shelf.

  “Don’t recall ever seein’ you round these here parts,” the clerk informed her. “Where is it you called home afore now?”

  “Grew up just a piece from here,” she said in a small voice.

  “What be your name?” he asked. It was apparent the mystery of it would not let him give it up. He was intent upon placing her.

  “Clairey Hooper, sir.”

  “Hooper? You kin to Jim Hooper then?”

  “Yessir, I’s Ellis Hooper’s woman.”

  The other woman in the pale blue dress seemed to have
forgotten her boy and her purpose in being there when she heard this. Her attention was fully given to Clairey. She piped up with an excited gasp, “Ellis Hooper done got murried?”

  “Yes, ma’am’.” Clairey picked up another can to examine.

  “When did you-uns get murried?” she pressed.

  Clairey guessed that the woman did not believe her. It was not surprising. She knew that Ellis was very capable of finding someone better. She figured the woman was unable to look past her poorly dressed state to see anything of worth.

  “I never knowed he got murried.”

  “Durin’ the winter,” Clairey said simply.

  “You said you’s raised round these parts?” the clerk broke in with a puzzled expression. “I know most everybody, and girl, if you was speaking the truth I ortta know you too.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Don’t recollect ever seein’ you round. What was you afore you’s a Hooper?”

  “Davenport,” she replied.

  “Your daddy Joe Davenport?” the clerk asked, a hint of repugnance in his words. He had her summed up before she even had a chance to answer. It was always the same. Because he knew she was Joe Davenport’s daughter, she was undeserving of consideration or respect. From then on, she felt his behavior was meant to intimidate and bully until she left his store. It didn’t take much for her to realize he considered her trash and didn’t want her hanging around.

  “Yessir,” she responded in a murmur that was hardly perceptible, with her eyes lowered as she picked at her nails.

  “I’ll tell you what I tole him: I ain’t got no credit for liars and thieves.” The storekeeper’s summary of her daddy’s character was meant to degrade her as well.

  Clairey shrank under the hostile gaze of the clerk and the woman in the pale blue dress. Their open disapproval, their undisguised dislike for her, was demeaning, and it stung. They didn’t even know her, didn’t know anything about her or what kind of person she was. Clairey’s expression didn’t change. It was carefully blank from long years of practice. She knew to not leave a clue on her face as to what she might be thinking or feeling. Invisibility was a survival skill for her.

  She was nothing. She was no one. This was how she had lived her life. This was what she had known from her earliest recollections. Her daddy had left his mark upon her. With her chin on her chest and her eyes scrutinizing the wooden floor, she walked to the door and went outside to wait for Ellis.

  She didn’t need to speculate about what they were thinking of her. As if the previous scene hadn’t made it all crystal clear, their conversation floated through the open window, pouring like poison into her ears. She knew she shouldn’t listen, should walk away, but her feet were glued to the spot, and she couldn’t pull herself away from it.

  “Did that gal say she’s Ellis Hooper’s woman?” the lady in the blue dress asked skeptically, as if she still didn’t believe any of it.

  “That’s what she’s claimin’,” the clerk confirmed. “I know that Joe Davenport, and he’s no good. No good, I tell you. Why, I got money owed to me by him, and I’ll tell you right now I ain’t never gonna see none of it. He’s good for nothin’.” His voice dropped as if he were telling her confidentially, “And then there’s that woman’s sister and the baby.”

  “What woman’s sister?”

  “Her mama,” he enlightened. “Her mama’s sister. Moved in and took up with Joe, and there’s a baby outta it.”

  The mention of her mama hurt Clairey worse than anything else they might have said. Her mama, who took what was given her and didn’t complain for fear of what would happen to her or her children if she did.

  “Sounds like that’s some match,” the woman clucked. “That girl and Ellis Hooper.”

  “Nothin’ good never come from the Bordens, and nothin’ good never come from the Davenport clan, neither.”

  “Now, I was acquaintanced with Dilly Jane Borden. She was a right nice girl,” the woman said pleasantly.

  “How’s she kin to Lottie Borden?”

  “Second cousins maybe.”

  “I don’t know no Dilly Jane Borden, but I done knowed Lottie Borden, and she weren’t no good. Not no good at all. As good as a rotten apple spoilin’ the whole bunch, she were.”

  “That Solomon Borden’s girl?”

  “She be the one,” the clerk confirmed. “Died while birthin’ that boy.” And then for emphasis he added with a sad shake of his head, “No good.” That seemed to be his favorite phrase for disparaging those he objected to.

  “I heard tale of her,” the woman said, and her voice was charged with implications, terrible insinuations that lingered unsaid between them.

  “Don’t know nobody that ain’t heard tell of her. She’s awful friendly with the men folk.” The clerk sniggered. “And that caused the tongues to wag. Oh, Lordy, did it.”

  Clairey tried to make herself as small as possible as she leaned in closer to the window to try to catch the rest of the conversation. She couldn’t help but consider what it all meant. Who was Lottie Borden, and what did she have to do with Ellis? From the inferences being made, she couldn’t help but speculate.

  “What’re you doin’?” Ellis questioned as he came up behind her.

  She flinched violently, completely taken off guard by him and feeling as though she had been caught doing something wrong. “Nothin’,” she gasped.

  “Did you get what you come for?”

  She said nothing, not quite sure what to say. Ellis waited for her to answer, but she still felt dazed by all that was happening around her. She stared at him blankly.

  He repeated his question with impatience in his tone. “Did you get what you needed?”

  “I…” she began.

  “Have you been waitin’ out here the whole time?” he asked disapprovingly.

  “I went in,” she defended quietly. “That man there done tole me I ain’t welcome.”

  Ellis’s eyebrows drew together, and he frowned. “What’d he say?”

  “I s’pose he knowed my daddy,” she explained. “And he don’t want nothin’ to do with his kin. He done tole me he didn’t want no part of me and tole me to get. So I’s waitin’ for you.”

  He mulled the information over a moment. He seemed peeved, but she wasn’t sure on what account, with her or with the clerk. “Well, you come on in with me,” he ordered, putting his arm around her shoulder and guiding her toward the door with the pressure of his palm.

  Her eyes widened as she took in a sharp breath and instinctively tried to back away from him. “I don’t wanna go in there. You go on without me. I’ll just wait on this here porch,” she protested, trying to resist him, but he continued to prod her along, ignoring her objections.

  “He ain’t gonna say nothin’. You just see. Not one word’ll come outta that feller’s mouth.” He practically spat the words out.

  “Please, I don’t wanna go in there. Can’t you see I don’t wanna?” Her voice cracked in panic.

  His firm hand forced her through the door as she struggled against him. Once they crossed over the threshold, her resolve left, and she immediately grew still. Her shoulders slumped when she saw the woman and the clerk look up and eye her all over again. The woman looked from her to the clerk with an eyebrow raised, and the clerk pursed his lips and opened his mouth as if he would say something. But then he caught sight of Ellis.

  Clairey could see the dangerous warning in Ellis’s locked stare with the clerk, a muscle twitching and thrumming in his hard jaw line. “Good day to you,” Ellis said, and the tone of his words was full of rage. It was a challenge, a call out.

  The clerk appeared irritated, but his protest remained unvoiced as he seemed to weigh his options. She could imagine what he was thinking: should he speak out and risk Ellis’s fury, or should he simply let them do their shopping?

  The woman motioned to her young son. “Barnett, darlin’, come on over here,” she said. “We gotta be gettin’ on home.” Taking the boy by the
hand, she slipped past Clairey and Ellis out the door, leaving no words of parting.

  Now it was just the three of them—Ellis, Clairey, and the clerk—standing in uncomfortable silence.

  “Clairey, you go on and get what you come for,” he told her without breaking his gaze on the clerk.

  Clairey stood there dumbly, too worried and afraid to do anything.

  “Go on,” Ellis barked.

  She jumped and scrambled to do as he directed. She went down the aisles, trying desperately to remember what she needed, picking up two cans of lard, salt, sugar, some baking powder. She was frightened as she dumped her load on the counter and went back for more, aware of the glare the clerk alternated between her and Ellis. She picked up white corn meal, a bag of beans, and some molasses, adding them to her pile before she headed off again. When she had weaved her way in a semi-frantic state through the shelves and gotten all she thought she needed, she went back to the counter and stood behind Ellis’s shoulder, seeking his protection.

  “You need anythin’ else?” he asked, still not looking at her.

  She shook her head no.

  Ellis stepped up to the clerk. She caught a glimpse of his side profile, every muscle in his face strained, his eyes filled with murder, and even she was afraid of him. “My wife’s gonna need all this here boxed up for her,” he spoke with an intensely quiet voice. “Next time she comes in, you’d do best to recall she ain’t no Davenport no more. She’s a Hooper now. And a Hooper’s credit’s always been good.”

  The clerk chose not to respond, the tension hanging heavy around them as they summed each other up. Evidently, he decided that the best course of action was to do what Ellis had asked. The scorching words of hatred in his throat remained unsaid. But his face said it all. He bent and picked up a few boxes from behind the counter and carelessly loaded the items Clairey had picked out into the cardboard containers and then shoved them roughly toward Ellis.