by Ann Hite
“She had what the doctor called a rare form of cancer.”
I touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”
He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “I loved her more than I could ever tell her.”
“But she knew.” I looked over at Iona. “You take your time. I’ll walk with Mr. Allen.”
He smiled. “I know who you are,” he whispered.
“We knew each other too well.” We walked through the graves out of earshot. “She doesn’t know, Jack.” It felt good to say his name.
“I know.”
“It’s a mess. I figured it all out, you know. What my lies have caused.”
He patted my shoulder. “Things are better now?”
I smiled. “They are. Iona is better. She’s going back to school.”
“Good.”
We were silent.
“So, how in the world did you end up with his girlfriend, Jack?” There it was, one of the questions that burned in my heart.
“She was my heart, Nellie.”
The words made my legs weak, and I stopped walking.
“I wish I knew how that felt.”
He looked at me. “What about your husband?”
“I’ve not been good at marriages.”
“Rose and I had a fine marriage. It was only Lonnie who tried our patience at times. He had Hobbs’s knack of seeking out trouble wherever he could. Iona is like you, Nellie. She has none of her father in her.”
So he knew.
“I saw you in her the first time she came up that mountain. I thought I was crazy, but then, well, you know …”
“Yes.”
“Her life will be blessed.”
“Not because of anything I’ve done.” I could see the top of Iona’s head as she sat by Lonnie’s grave.
“I think it’s because of what you did do.”
I loved him more as an older man. “You’re too kind, trying to make me feel better, but the truth is, my daughter is smart all on her own. Nothing I did in the past has helped her. It only hurt her.”
“That’s not fair to yourself, Nellie.” His green eyes flashed. “You had to do more than survive.”
We were talking about the past and clearing the air.
“Playing God only causes a person grief and heartache.”
He nodded.
“I’ve had to pay for my sins, and others have paid too.”
“It’s all over. It’s been over for a long time.”
“Not for me.” I looked at him and felt like that dumb young girl.
“You’re a grown woman. Look at you. You’re not that dumb little girl that came riding up the mountain in Hobbs’s truck.”
“Sometimes I think I’m still her.”
He looked around. “This old mountain has been good to me. You know I found Mama’s necklace. Until I saw it, I never believed Hobbs killed anyone other than Clyde Parker. I always thought the mountain gave him way too much credit for his meanness. But I know he killed her. You found the necklace and brought it from his hiding place.” He touched my arm. “You took a cold-blooded murderer out of this world. Nellie, there ain’t no telling how many people you saved beside yourself.”
Was I in a dream? “I’d like to put it behind me.”
“There’s a way. You have to be honest.”
Iona moved toward us
“You look me up sometime, Nellie. I’d love to talk again.” His old smile twinkled in his eyes.
“You have a good life, Jack.”
“I have and now it’s time to start on chapter two.”
I drove us down the mountain, Iona deep in her thoughts and me on the verge of screaming with joy. My talk with Jack released a pent-up fear, the power Hobbs had over me. Was it really over? Not yet.
When we sat down to supper that night, I thought of Jack’s words. I had to be honest. I looked at Harold and Iona and took a big deep breath. “I want to tell you the truth about that story.”
“What story?” Harold was looking through his newspaper, but Iona was alert, watching my face.
“‘Ghost on Black Mountain’?” Iona folded her fingers on the table.
“Yes.”
Harold closed the paper and folded it neat, meeting my stare with interest.
“Now what I’m going to tell you by no means lets me off the hook. You see, it’s like this: Once there was Nellie and Hobbs Pritchard.” Harold watched me close and Iona’s fingers shook. “I was Nellie and I married Hobbs Pritchard even though Mama warned me against him. She saw death in her tea leaves. But I didn’t listen. I thought I knew everything …”
Epilogue
Iona married Anthony after she finished school. He went off to Vietnam and she fretted at home until his return. They were married in her daddy’s church by her daddy. Iona became a professor at Chapel Hill, where she taught music and played for her family each and every night. Anthony became a well-known wildlife artist. They had three boys, Harold, Tony, and Lonnie.
It took a little time, but Harold finally accepted that Annie was actually Nellie. He never judged her like she so often imagined. Instead, they spent about a year talking endlessly about how she survived such a tough time. Harold loved Annie or Nellie, whoever she was, and there was no doubting that. He loved his daughter, Iona, and never regretted the day he met his wife, even if she wasn’t totally honest. Forgiving her this trespass was the easiest thing he ever did.
Harold died right after preaching one of his favorite sermons, on the prodigal son. He was sixty-eight. Nellie was right by his side, holding him, begging him to breathe. She couldn’t let him go. He was her heart.
She buried him in the cemetery near her daddy. There was one plot left open for her, and even though in that first year she often thought of dying too, she never gave up. She didn’t leave their house for another twelve years. His clothes hung in the closet for as long as she lived there.
Jack Allen lived to be a hundred years old and remained in the old homeplace. He watched more and more folks move to the mountain, even met AzLeigh’s granddaughter, whom he willed the house to. There were many times in his life he often thought he might leave the mountain, but to the end Black Mountain was his home.
In the last years of Nellie’s life, she insisted on moving into an assisted-living home, rather than Iona and Anthony’s house. “A mother has no business living with her daughter. I might tell some important secret when I start to lose my mind.” She grinned at Iona, who only shook her head. Nellie had long ago learned to forgive herself for her sins, since God had forgiven her so many years earlier.
The home where Nellie moved was located right outside of Asheville, not four hours away from Iona, on a small piece of property where the house Hobbs rented for him and Rose once stood. It was here she met Maynard Connor all over again and in a more proper way. He was fine-looking for a man of eighty-three. He’d lived a life full of surprises like Nellie. Of course he remembered her right off and even called her Mrs. Pritchard the first time they spoke.
“I’m not Mrs. Pritchard, you old fool. I’m Nellie to you.”
Maynard only laughed. “You killed him, didn’t you?”
Nellie smiled. “That’s not a story I tell to anyone nowadays, Maynard.”
They were friends the rest of her life, eating supper together and watching movies.
On the day Nellie passed away, before Maynard had one of those little attendees unlock her door, she was sitting in her recliner looking out the window, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it beat through the glass. She had a perfect view of Black Mountain on a clear day. And that day was clear as a bell.
That mountain was like a picture her son-in-law might paint, every detail defined. She could make out where developers were building a new community. Life went on and on back on Black Mountain. Nellie had come to realize the place was a character within itself, alive and vital like any talking, walking, breathing person. The mountain would never die out, and the thought plain comforted her.
&
nbsp; Acknowledgments
There are so many people who helped bring Ghost on Black Mountain full circle: Holly’s belief in my work kept me in the seat. Jeanie dug in and pushed this book until it landed in the perfect publishing house. You are a blessing sent from God. Kara Cesare brought out the best in my writing through her fabulous editing. I’m grateful to my Jack for encouraging me when a lot of husbands would have stopped believing. I couldn’t have written a word without Ella. You always have the best ideas. Thank you to my lovely grown children, Melissa, Cassey, Beth, and Stephen, for listening to their mother rattle on and on about Black Mountain. Thank you to my enduring fan Myrtis Doyle. You never gave up on this writer. We haven’t made it to Hollywood yet, but I got a feeling we will. Thanks to Darlene and Dianne for reading the book so many times their vision grew worse. If not for my brother, who was forced as a young child to listen to my stories, Hobbs and Nellie might not have come into existence. And a special thanks to Maria for being my voice of reason on this journey.
Ghost on Black Mountain
ANN HITE
Introduction
On Black Mountain, ghosts roam almost as freely as the living, carrying dark pasts and warnings of what’s to come. in her haunting debut, Ann Hite weaves together the stories of five Southern women whose lives are irrevocably changed by one man and the act that kills him. these women navigate through tragedy and darkness, battling their own demons and confronting others’ as they struggle toward new beginnings and a chance at happiness. Each perspective offers a shocking revelation that reshapes the truth, leaving readers to wonder if anyone is really the person she seems to be.
Topics and Questions for Discussion
1. Ghost on Black Mountain is told by multiple narrators and out of chronological order. How does this affect your understanding of the events that take place in the novel and your opinions of the main characters? How do you think the story would be different if it were told chronologically and/ or from one perspective?
2. Which narrator do you sympathize with or connect to the most? Why?
3. If you could have read more from one character’s perspective in this novel, whose would it be?
4. In many ways the ghosts are their own characters and help dictate the course of action in the story. Compare the different reactions the witnesses have to seeing ghosts. Consider how the ghosts directly influence a character’s actions.
5. What do you think attracts Nellie to Hobbs in the first place? Did she ever love him? When does she see him for who he really is?
6. Examine Shelly’s role in the story. How does her role as a narrator differ from the others’? What makes her essential to the story?
7. On page 195, Aunt Ida says, “I let Nellie down. I didn’t help her when Hobbs near beat her to death.” Would Nellie have found another way out if someone had simply answered her cries for help? Do you think she was justified in her actions?
8. Nellie’s decision brings consequences that reach far into the future and alter the lives of several people. How important is the time period in which this story is set? How would this story work in the present?
9. Aunt Ida and Rose seem to be the only characters who were able to see any good in Hobbs. Whose version of Hobbs do you think was closest to who he really was? Could he have been a good father to Lonnie if he’d had the chance? Or was he purely mean and violent, as most people thought he was?
10. Mother-and-daughter relationships are prevalent throughout Ghost on Black Mountain. In some cases, readers see a character as both a mother and a daughter. Discuss the influence of these special relationships on each of the narrators.
11. On page 313, Nellie admits that “Mamas can’t protect their daughters. Not really. They’re helpless to watch and wait.” Do you think this is true? How is it proved or disproved in the course of the story?
12. In the first part of Nellie’s story, there are moments of tenderness between her and Jack. Had things been different, do you think Jack and Nellie could have loved each other?
13. Iona and Lonnie both grew up with loving parents, though Iona knew nothing of her real father for most of her life. Do you think Lonnie would have turned out differently had he never known about Hobbs or found his father’s skull?
14. There are many romances in Ghost on Black Mountain—some end happily and others don’t. Discuss the different dynamics in the relationships between Nellie and Hobbs, Rose and Hobbs, Rose and Jack, Nellie and Harold, Iona and Lonnie, and Iona and Anthony. Which of these, if any, do you think were rooted in true love?
Enhance Your Book Club
1. Have you ever had a paranormal encounter? Share your own ghost stories at your book club meeting!
2. Visit www.realhaunts.com to find a local haunted house in your hometown. Plan a visit with your book club for your next meeting and come up with your own ghost story!
3. Check out the Ghost on Black Mountain podcast download available on iTunes! It’s a recording of the original short story by Ann Hite that inspired the novel.
A Conversation with Ann Hite
Congratulations on your first novel! What has been the most exciting part of the process so far?
When I began writing about Nellie and Hobbs, I never dreamed it would actually become a novel. I was writing for fun, allowing the characters space on the page. Up until that point, I had written only short stories. So, when my fun writing exercises turned into a novel-size manuscript, I was somewhat in awe. I had fallen in love with Nellie, Josie, Shelly, Rose, and Iona. When I signed my book contract, I remember thinking, Is this actually happening? But I must say the day I received the image of the book cover was the most thrilling. I actually had to go for a nice long walk and allow reality to sink into my brain. I was a novelist. That was truly a dream come true.
How did you come to be a writer? What other authors are you inspired by?
Every year my grandmother would visit for two weeks with my family in whatever state or country we were living in. I remember looking forward to this like a child looks forward to a visit from Santa. She was the book lover and storyteller of our clan. Each evening she would gather me on her lap and tell me episodes from her childhood. As I grew older, the tales became more revealing. After years of moving around the country and five years in Europe, I finally returned to the South. I was ten and it was the midsixties. This was enough to make a writer out of most book-loving girls. My mother had brought my brother and me to live with our grandmother in Atlanta. It was then I began to absorb the both wonderful and eerie tales told by my extended family. Every weekend we piled into my grandmother’s Oldsmobile and drove to “the country” to visit with my great-aunts. I would sit among what I considered very exotic women. One aunt was always on the verge of a nervous breakdown, wringing her lace hankie in her fingers. Another wore a scarf around brush curlers wound tightly into bleach-blond hair, a cigarette hanging from her fingers. And of course there was the cousin who went and married out of the faith. Her husband was Catholic. If I was quiet, they forgot I was there and began to tell the old mountain tales. These were not for the faint of heart. Believe me. I loved each story and memorized them all. This atmosphere of tall tales, spells, and spirits gave birth to Black Mountain, even though I didn’t have a name for the community back then. I spent many hours writing and forcing my little brother to sit on the back stoop of my grandmother’s home and listen to my stories of ghosts and goblins. I can’t tell you how many times I got in trouble for scaring him silly. Ah, but children do grow up. Or do they? I became a writer.
Books came long before writing. So I have a love for many different authors. But the genres have always remained the same: Southern literature and contemporary fiction. William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily” and Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” gave me the desire to show the more complex side of the South. In the late eighties, I fell in love with Ellen Gilchrist’s books. I’ve read them all over and over. Her stories of Rhoda Manning are my favorite. H
er work taught me how to write in my own voice. The first time I read The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd, I knew somehow I would succeed as a writer. The image of Lily watching the bees flying around her room gave me goose bumps and remains with me today. Julia Glass’s novels, especially I See You Everywhere, taught me that language should sing off the page. I own every book Louise Erdrich has written. I can’t get enough of her work. I also love Anne Lamott. Michael Cunningham’s The Hours taught me that structure could be rearranged and turned into art. And of course I can’t leave out To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s what I aspire to each time I sit down at my desk.
Before it was a novel, you had written many short stories about Black Mountain. How did you manage to weave these stories together into a novel?
“Ghost on Black Mountain” was the first Black Mountain story I wrote. As new stories came to me, I noticed that Hobbs or Nellie made appearances. Nellie was a chatty character and came to me just as I was falling off to sleep most nights. She would tell me about her life. Then Shelly showed up on the page. But it wasn’t until my agent suggested some of my short stories were actually outlines of novels that the aha moment occurred. When I sat down to tell the “whole extended” story of Nellie and Hobbs, the scenes just poured out of me with little effort. I’m a blank-page, character-driven writer, so truly I had no idea where Nellie would find herself at the end of the book.
Though the novel tells many stories, Nellie seems to be the central figure. How did you make the decision to create multiple narrators? Could you imagine the story being told from only one point of view? How different would that book have been from Ghost on Black Mountain?
I actually began the first draft of this novel in third person from only Nellie’s point of view. About sixty pages into the story I had lost Nellie’s original voice. What I had was a cardboard cutout character at best. I went back and began writing her in first person. This brought the book back to life. While I was on one of my long walks, Rose came to me fully formed. I knew she had to tell her story in her own voice. The original manuscript had only four narrators: Nellie, Rose, Iona, and Annie. My wonderful editor at Gallery Books suggested that if I gave Nellie’s mother, Josie, and Shelly voices in the book, the story would become richer. The suggestion was perfect. Shelly’s narrating provided me with details about Hobbs that tightened the plot. Josie revealed Nellie’s history. This experience was exciting.