by Ann Hite
Jack would have split the wood for me, but I decided I could do it on my own. I had to learn to do things for myself. In the back of my mind, I believed I could please Hobbs. Eventually he would give in and let Mama come to me. I was young and didn’t have a lick of sense. I thought I could turn back time with just a desire. Anyway, splitting the wood showed I could be on my own. Mama taught me how to work for a living. Her laundry business for the fine ladies of Asheville gave me a taste of raw cracked knuckles; one year we even plowed a big field outside of town for a corn crop. We sold it to the farmers for feed. Neither one of us could be called lazy. I could chop wood.
The temperature was around twenty degrees in the middle of the day. Little sheets of ice formed over the still parts of the river. The snow was as deep as ever, no longer pretty, but dirty and gray in most places.
The sun showed through the trees, but it didn’t give any extra heat the afternoon I set out to cut wood. I rolled one of the logs upright. Thank goodness Hobbs had sense enough to have a tree chopped down and sectioned. The maul was heavier than I thought. I swung it over my shoulder, losing my footing but regaining my balance. In that moment, a anger for Hobbs boiled inside of me, giving me a start. The feeling was so strong I swung that maul hard and bounced it off the wood without making a dent. Hobbs should have been right there with me. The maul was lighter the next time I swung it over my shoulder. The weight was a burden, a promise. The third blow brought a split in the wood. The anger had turned to pure strength as it moved through me.
Would Hobbs ever come back? Husbands didn’t just walk away from their wives. But I knew that was a childish thought. A man could do anything he felt like to a woman. Nobody would stop him from telling his wife what to do. Hobbs was my husband. Our marriage was built on his wants and dislikes. He made the money and owned the land. He owned me. If he said I was stupid, then I was. But the more I stayed alone the more I knew that just wasn’t so. It was him who was stupid and mean.
The maul hit its mark and half the log fell away. Warmth spread through me like a spring day. I went at my task for a couple of hours and ended up with a decent pile of wood. My arms were numb and my back ached, but a new strength burned in my muscles. For the first time in my life, I thought I could do anything.
The bathwater turned to a boil just as I heard a truck. I ran to see: it was only Jack. How crazy was I when one minute I hated Hobbs, and the next I was hanging in the window, pining away for love, praying he’d come home?
Jack jumped from the cab and looked directly at the new pile of wood and scratched his chin.
I met him at the door. “What brings you this way?” My thoughts were still cemented on Hobbs, so I almost missed the soft look Jack gave me. I couldn’t have him feeling sorry for me.
“I wanted to check in on you.” He nodded at the wood. “It seems you’ve done fine alone.”
“I can do anything myself,” I bragged. “Come on in.” I opened the kitchen door.
He took off his hat. “I could have chopped the wood. I will next time. No sense in not taking my help.”
“It’s not your place, Jack. If I’m going to live up here alone …” These words came to life outside my mind and stopped me in the middle of the sentence.
Jack’s face turned pink with the heat of the stove. “I’ll help. You’re family.” He warmed his hands. “You and Shelly have done a fine job with the place.”
“She’s a good worker.”
He looked at the bathtub between us on the kitchen floor. “I won’t stay.”
The thought of another lonely supper made me sick. “Why don’t you stay and eat?” I could see he was about to say no, so I rushed on. “You could stack the wood I chopped while I take a bath.”
He relaxed. “It’ll be a pleasure to stack the wood. You split wood with your mama?”
“Nah, this is my first time, but Mama and me worked hard.” A sharp pain worked behind my ribs.
“You’re something else, Nellie.” He laughed and went outside. I was smiling for the first time in weeks.
My prettiest dress hung over one of the kitchen chairs. I soaked in the copper tub while the water worked hard at turning ice-cold. Mama would say I was messing with fire having this handsome man for supper, but I wasn’t with Mama. There was no harm in having a meal with my brother-in-law and nothing wrong with being pretty. Jack was a gentleman. And for all I knew he had him a girl down in Asheville somewhere. I closed my eyes and imagined him answering all the questions I needed answered.
Eleven
I cooked the pork chops good and crunchy. The black-eyed peas bubbled on the stove, and the whole kitchen smelled of sweet cornbread. Jack ate so much I thought he’d pop open. Him sitting at the table laughing and talking seemed so natural. I poured us another cup of coffee and brought the apple cobbler to the table. I used apples I canned right after I came to the mountain.
“Lord, Nellie, you’re a good cook.” Jack sat back and patted his stomach.
“Thank you.”
“There are some things about Hobbs’s business that can’t be denied.” He sniffed the coffee. “Folks up here can’t buy coffee. They can’t buy nothing.”
My cheeks burned, thinking about Hobbs and his ways.
“I got to get back home.” The dusky gray had settled in the yard. It was this time each evening when I took my coffee to the porch and watched the valley get blanketed by mist.
“Oh, come sit on the porch with me. Talk.”
He laughed. “It’s too cold to sit on the porch, but you do have a fine view. What is it you want to talk about?”
“Do you have a girl down in Asheville?”
His look became playful. “Ten of them. Why is it that every woman on this mountain wants to fix me up with a girl? Do I look that helpless?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re such good husband material.”
He hooted with laughter. “I don’t think you’re right about that.” A wind rattled a tree branch against the kitchen window. “I’m happy just like I am.”
“That’s probably good, being happy like you are.” Warm feelings were settling in my chest, making it easier to ask my next question. “Did Hobbs kill Clyde Parker?”
A shadow crossed his face. “You change subjects fast.” He half smiled. “Did Shelly talk about him?”
“I asked her why she didn’t like Hobbs.”
He nodded. “There’s some things I can’t talk about, Nellie. Clyde Parker is one of them. That answer will have to come from Hobbs.” He sipped his coffee. “But I wouldn’t bring it up.”
So I had to think Hobbs killed Shelly’s daddy. “Tell me about Hobbs’s sister.”
A lighthearted smile settled on his face. “What do you want to know?”
“Does she look like him?” I moved around my real question with careful steps.
“She looked just like pictures of her mama. She has her mama’s name, AzLeigh.”
“Why’d she leave?”
He shrugged and looked out the window. “It was time. She had nothing left up here.”
“Aunt Ida said her and Hobbs fell out about her liking your mama. She said he had every right to hate his stepmama since she came into the family too fast.”
“Aunt Ida’s been making excuses for Hobbs since I came to this mountain and probably way before. She’s always had a soft spot for him. Seems he does this to a lot of women. Can’t figure it.”
I looked away.
“My mama loved AzLeigh like her own. What wasn’t there to love? She was everything Hobbs had missing.” Jack grew quiet. “When my mama died, AzLeigh hurt just like I did. She loved her that much.”
“Did Hobbs have anything to do with your mama dying?” This question had been burning inside since my visit to the Connor farm.
He studied me. “Who you been talking to?”
“Mrs. Connor.”
He frowned and shook his head. “That must have been a hard visit for you.”
I shrugged off his w
ords. “Did he kill her?”
“She died one night while everyone was asleep. AzLeigh found her the next morning. The doctor said it was her heart.” He frowned. “I would have killed Hobbs myself if I thought he put a hand on my mama.” He said this so quiet a chill went over my scalp. “Folks give him way too much credit. It adds to his legend as the bad man on Black Mountain.”
“So you don’t think he’s killed anybody?” The relief I felt was in my words.
“I didn’t say that. I’m sure he’s killed someone. Folks say he killed his first man the day before his mama died.”
“Who was that?”
“Merlin Hocket.”
The name sent cold through my chest.
“Merlin was a government man sent up here to measure the mountain for taxes. But his problem was meeting Hobbs. They bumped heads because Merlin found Hobbs’s still and threatened to bring revenue men up here. He came up missing. Nobody would tell on Hobbs because we deal with our own up here. Problem is we’re not doing too good of a job because he’s running the show.” He slapped his knee. “I got to go. My dear stepbrother would raise Cain if he knew I was here talking with you.” He looked deep into my eyes. “Never think you know him cause you won’t, ever.”
And there was the truth staring me in the face.
I looked away. “I seen your mama here.”
“Don’t surprise me none. She’s probably looking out for you. She knew Hobbs well enough. That’s one of the reasons he hated her so bad.” Jack opened the kitchen door.
“She walked down the front stairs.”
He nodded like we were talking about something as simple as spring coming. “Don’t talk to Hobbs about her. He’ll ship you off to the state hospital.”
“If he even comes back.” I cursed the sinking feeling in my chest.
“Oh, don’t you worry. He’ll come rolling in here when you least expect him. You can’t get rid of him that easy. Enjoy your time. Ain’t no telling what he’ll be like when he comes back.” He laughed.
I touched his arm without thinking. It was just a natural kind of gesture. His stare locked with mine for only a few seconds, and then he slid his arm away. “More snow tomorrow.” He put his hat on and stepped out the door.
“Don’t say that, Jack.”
He grinned. “Aunt Ida’s knee has been aching up a storm, always does when a big snow is coming.”
“Sounds like my mama.”
“Why don’t you go down and see her, your mama?” He was watching me close.
“How? It ain’t like Hobbs left me a way. And he don’t like her one bit since she refused to come to our wedding.”
He laughed. “Well, sounds like she’s got sense. Let’s see what Christmas brings.”
After he was gone, I sat in the rocker and watched the flames until I got to that sleepy place where I was awake but couldn’t move. A sound I hadn’t heard in a while, a sound I’d been waiting to hear, pacing around and worrying over, rattled up the drive. I had thought I would dance for joy, but I didn’t. And this caught me off guard.
The kitchen door opened. “Well, well, look who’s up waiting on me.”
I didn’t crack a smile. A battle took place in my chest on whether I was going to grab my next breath or not. Hobbs was home.
Twelve
Christmas loomed in the background as I walked through the next few days not giving joy to Hobbs being home for the holiday. Everything in me had up and buried itself deep in some hole. But Hobbs was purely happy and walked around whistling. We never seemed to be able to feel the same way at the same time. Church was the only place I found a peaceful moment, and it wasn’t even real peace since Jack sat close by, smelling like clean soap, close enough to let me study the line of his jaw. He smiled here and there, tipped his hat, but kept his distance. He was a fine catch for a sensible girl. Up until I met Hobbs I had been just that kind of girl.
I worked on some gifts, trying to catch the proper mood for the Lord’s birthday. It was a time of new beginnings, of birth, shedding our old skins and gaining something completely new. One night the snow fell in big fluffy flakes. I stood at the bedroom window and listened to Hobbs snoring. The soft whispery voice—Nellie—seemed to move through the tops of the trees, through the river, through the very earth itself. The mountain was talking to me, accepting me. I couldn’t make out all it said, but I knew the day I could, things would change. For good or bad, I wasn’t sure.
On Christmas Eve, Hobbs took out early to do whatever he had planned for the holiday, and I decided to walk to church for the afternoon service. The trees were bare and a brisk wind pushed me up the path. The whole sanctuary was lit by candles. My heart sank and jumped at the same time. In that candlelight, I thought I saw some hope, a way out of the mess I’d made of my life, but that would mean failing. When the good pastor sang out his altar call, I stayed in the pew. I never had been much of a kneeling-in-the-front-of-the-church person. But I prayed God would deliver me from my hopelessness. That’s the best I could do. A person should be careful what they pray after. Of course what happened, all that took place, couldn’t be left at God’s feet. Nope, what came later was like the little purple crocuses pushing through snow to bloom; it was going to happen no matter what tried to get in the way.
On the way home from the service, I stopped at the little cabin in back of Pastor Dobbins’s house. In my skirt pocket was a small bundle. I tapped on the door as I stood on the wide front porch. Through the window, I saw the front room washed in lamplight. In one corner was a bed with the most colorful quilt, all bright blues, reds, oranges, and yellows. A big fireplace took over the room, but what caught my eye was the fancy organ in the corner.
“What brings you this way, Mrs. Pritchard?” Shelly’s mother had opened the door without me noticing.
My cheeks heated having been caught snooping. “I had a little something for Shelly.” I pulled the lacy cloth napkin out of my pocket. “I hope that’s all right.”
Mrs. Parker pushed the door open wider. “Come on in.” She turned her head. “Shelly, we got company.”
Shelly appeared in the door of a room to the back of the cabin. “Mrs. Pritchard.” Her smile was almost shy.
“I have this for you.” I held out the napkin folded neatly around the surprise.
Shelly took it and sniffed. “Oh, you made it.” She grinned. “Fudge.”
Mrs. Parker’s smile was stiff. “Isn’t that nice. You thank her, Shelly.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard.”
“It’s nothing much. I wanted to thank you for all your help. You’ve been such a hard worker.”
Mrs. Parker’s face relaxed. “I taught her to be on her best.”
“Do you play the organ?” I asked Shelly.
She looked at her feet. “Not good.”
Mrs. Parker straightened her shoulders. “You play real good. Go play Mrs. Pritchard a Christmas song.”
Shelly frowned but walked to the organ. She placed her long fingers on the keys and played “Silent Night” without missing a note.
I clapped.
“Shelly learned from Miss Faith. She’s good enough to play for the church if they let coloreds do such a thing.”
“She is very good.”
Shelly stood. “Can’t I have a piece of fudge?”
“Tell Mrs. Pritchard bye and then go eat one piece.”
“Bye.” Shelly smiled and ran back to the room with the fudge in her hand.
I sure wasn’t used to a shy Shelly. When I was alone with Mrs. Parker, I couldn’t find one word to say, but that didn’t matter. Mrs. Parker stood in the middle of her small neat cabin and found all the words she needed.
“She won’t be coming back to your house. It was kind of you to stop by.” Mrs. Parker held the door open.
“Oh, she can come back after Christmas.”
Mrs. Parker shook her head. “No ma’am. Your husband stopped by the pastor’s house and gave him Shelly’s pay. He said he had no use f
or her work. That you were going to take over the chores.”
Sweat broke out on my neck even though it was cold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll miss her.”
“You’ve grown on her, but Shelly don’t belong cleaning your house.” Her words were firm. “I don’t want her close to Hobbs Pritchard no more.”
The air was thick with my silence.
“I guess I need to get home.” I wanted to fix things between us, but there wasn’t no use.
“I thank you for the thought.” Mrs. Parker watched me from the door.
“She’s a good worker. I’m sorry if I did anything to offend you.” I hung my head and walked.
“Shelly’s seen a spirit that’s here cause of you.”
A ripple of dread went over me.
“The spirit warned her that you’re in danger. Did she tell you?”
“No.”
Mrs. Parker came close to me. “You ought to use that brick dust I sent. Something bad is going to happen.” She held her hand up. “Don’t ask cause I don’t know. I don’t think Shelly knows. But it’s bad.”
I was silent.
“You’re young. You ain’t going to listen to what grown folks say.”
Night was pulling in on me. She was right, I wasn’t listening to no one, not even the little voice in my head.
Hobbs came in late that night, sounding like a drunken Santa. He found me in bed and pushed a ring, a gold wedding band, in my hand. “I never gave you one, so here.”
The ring was simple and big, too large for my finger, but the thought was there wrapped up in all his misguided ways, as if God had actually heard my prayer. I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Hobbs.”
He stood straight. “You better thank me. I do a lot for you. Look at what you have here.” He opened his arms to welcome the room.
As usual he stuck his foot in the middle of something good and mixed it all up. “Do you love me, Hobbs? Do you?” We’d been married nearly three months and not once had he said those words. Not even when we said I do.