Finally, after she had slipped on a clean nightgown and a worn, thin robe, Jewel got out of bed, aided by Jerusalem’s strong hands. She tried to keep herself straight, but the strength even to stand had left her long ago. She glanced down at her frail body, which seemed to be that of another woman. In her mind she still had the strong frame she had been blessed with throughout most of her life, but now she saw nothing but a wasted form. She was shocked to realize how frail she had become.
“Here, sit down, Ma. I got some fresh mush on the stove. It oughta set good on your stomach.”
Jewel sat down in the chair. She had so little padding left that it was painful, but she let none of her suffering show. When Jerusalem set the bowl of steaming mush in front of her, she smiled. “That looks good, daughter.”
“Try some of this here fresh milk. And I got a little sugar left too.”
With no appetite at all, but a desire to please Jerusalem, Jewel added a few spoonfuls of goat’s milk and half a spoonful of sugar. She noticed the thinness of her fingers and of her arm but stirred the mush and then bowed her head and said, “Lord, we thank You for this food and for every blessing. Be with our family, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen,” said Jerusalem. She had made herself a cup of strong black coffee and sat down to drink it as her mother ate. “Mary Aidan’s asleep for a change.”
“I’ll be glad when she gets those teeth cut.”
“So will I, Ma. It makes her so fussy.”
“Where are the young’uns?”
“Outside with Clay doin’ somethin’.”
“They do cling to that man, don’t they?”
“They miss their pa. Young’uns like a man to do things with.”
Jewel looked up quickly. It was unusual for Jerusalem to speak ill of Jake, and even this was not a direct criticism. “I reckon you’re right,” she said. “I wish Jake would come home.”
Jerusalem lifted her cup and took a sip, then gazed out the window.
She could see the cotton fields ripening, the plants having burst through the earth, reaching for the warm rays of the sun. She got up, walked to the window, and stood there for a moment. Finally, she shook her head and took her seat again. “I don’t know when Jake will be back.”
Jewel stirred the mush and took a small bite of it. “Clay’s done wonders the last four months.”
“Yes, he has—and he’s hated every minute of it. At least the plowin’.”
“He never said nothin’, did he?”
“No. He’s made a game out of it.” Jerusalem sipped her coffee again.
“It’s odd how a man can make a place perk up. All the fences are straight now and repaired. That barn was fallin’ over, but now it’s all braced. We’ve had plenty of meat on the table. It seems all he has to do is walk into the woods and some critter just falls down in front of him, beggin’ to be et.
He made that crop, just him and Brodie. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t come, Ma.”
Jewel hesitated, then said cautiously, “He does like his pleasure.”
Indeed, both women were quite aware that as hard as Clay Taliferro worked, there were times he would take off early and stay away all night.
He would come in with his eyes red-rimmed and his speech slurred. No one ever questioned him about this except Moriah and, at times, Clinton.
Once Clinton had blurted out, “Clay goes over to them ol’ saloons to see them scarlet women! I told him he’s goin’ straight to perdition if he don’t quit that!”
Jerusalem had said sharply, “That’s none of your business, Clinton! You keep your oar out of it.”
As the two women sat talking, Jewel said softly, “I’ve been praying for the Lord to touch Clay—show him the errors of his ways and bring ’im back to a straight an’ narrow path.”
“He needs it,” Jerusalem said, shaking her head. “But it’s not for me to judge. Can’t you eat some more of that mush, Ma?”
“I think I’d just like to sit in the rocker out on the porch.”
“All right. I’ll take you out there for some fresh air.” Jerusalem carefully led her mother out to the porch and helped ease her into the rocking chair.
“This is mighty fine, daughter. You go on about your work now. I’ll be fine here.”
“I’ll bring you some tea.”
As Jewel gently rocked and waited for her tea, she saw Clay coming up from the river in the wagon. All three of the older children were with him, and they were singing a song. As they got closer, she was able to make it out:
Where, oh, where is dear little Nellie?
Where, oh, where is dear little Nellie?
Where, oh, where is dear little Nellie?
Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.
Jerusalem could hear Clay’s clear voice sing the verse, then the children joined in on the chorus.
She’s pickin’ up pawpaws, puttin’ ’em in her pocket.
Pickin’ up pawpaws, puttin ’em in her pocket.
Pickin’ up pawpaws, puttin ’em in her pocket.
Way down yonder in the pawpaw patch.
As the wagon drew up to the cabin, the singing stopped, and the children all leaped out. Clay climbed out slowly and walked over to the porch. From the scowl on his face, Jewel could tell he was dissatisfied about something.
“I’m sick and tired of haulin’ water from that doggone river,” Clay said as he got out of the wagon.
“If we had a spring,” Clinton piped up, “we wouldn’t have to haul water all the time.”
“Yes, and if a toady frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his rear,” Clay snorted.
Jerusalem had brought Jewel’s tea and paused as Clay walked up to the porch. “I know it’s worrisome,” Jerusalem said, “but we’ve gotta have water.”
“Well, I’ve half a mind to do somethin’ about it.”
Jerusalem said calmly, “I’ve been tired of haulin’ it for twelve years, Clay. You’ve only been haulin’ it for four months.”
Clay took off his straw hat and stared at Jerusalem almost angrily.
“Well, I don’t intend to put up with it anymore.”
“What are you going to do about it, Clay?” Moriah chimed in.
“I’m gonna dig a well. That’s what I’m gonna do.”
All three children stared at him. “Ma’s been after Pa to dig a well ever since I can remember,” Brodie said.
“Well, then it’s high time the thing was dug! Before I leave here, I’ll see a well so nobody don’t have to haul water all the way from that river.”
Ever since he had been at the Hardin farm, Clay had been dropping veiled hints that he would leave. He would say, “Before I leave this place, I’d better straighten up that barn.” He’d throw himself into the work of bracing the barn back into an upright position, but then he would stay, apparently forgetting his threat. When he had first said he was going to leave, the youngsters had become agitated, but he had said it so often by now, no one paid much attention anymore.
As Clay began to carry water into the house and pour it into a big barrel in the corner, Moriah whispered, “Ma, you don’t think he’ll really leave, do you?”
“He’s not left yet.”
At the same time she remembered that whenever Clay made one of these threats, he would go to town after finishing his chore and come back red-eyed. Twice he had returned with the marks of a fight on his face. And he usually came back reeking of cheap perfume, but Jerusalem would ignore this.
Clay came out of the house and said, “We gotta have us a water diviner.”
“I ain’t never believed in findin’ water with a wand,” Jerusalem scoffed. “If’n you’re gonna dig a well, just dig it someplace handylike.”
“That’s just like you, Jerusalem. You never give no thought to nothin’. Might go straight down to China or hit bedrock. No, sir, you gotta go about this in a scientific manner.”
“Scientific! You call those water witches scientific? They’re
all frauds,” Jerusalem declared.
The argument soon became so heated that the children were a bit alarmed. It was a familiar scene, however, for Jerusalem and Clay often had different opinions, and neither of them hesitated to state their minds bluntly.
“I said I was going to dig this well, Jerusalem, and I aim to do it— before I leave here. But I ain’t diggin’ no dry well. Don’t you know any water diviners around here?”
Moriah piped up, “Ellie Bratton’s a water diviner.”
“She is?” Clay said. “Why, she never told me that.”
“Well, she is. She found the well for the Williamsons,” Moriah said, “and two or three others I can think of.”
Clay jammed his hat on his head. “Why, then, I’m goin’ over and gettin’ her right now.” Saying no more, he jumped in the wagon and headed out, keeping the mules at a fast gait.
“What’d you have to tell him that for, Moriah?” Jerusalem scolded.
“Because it’s so.”
“You ain’t got no sense at all, Moriah,” Clinton said. “Ellie’s a scarlet woman, and she’s draggin’ Clay right down to the pit! That’s what them bad women do.” Then he broke into a favorite quotation from Proverbs 7: “‘For she hath cast down many wounded: yea, many strong men have been slain by her. Her house is the way to hell, going down to the chambers of death.’” He glared at Moriah. “That’s what the Bible says. She’s tryin’ to ruin Clay, that’s what!”
Usually, Jerusalem found Clinton’s Scripture quoting tiresome, but this time she fixed her eyes on him and said, “I think you got that right, Clinton.” Then she shook her head. “Now, you children get on about your business. You’ve got chores to do. If you don’t, I’ll find you some.”
As the youngsters scattered, Jerusalem turned to her mother and saw that she looked pale. “Are you tired yet?”
“I think I’ll just sit here awhile longer.”
“I’ll go inside, but you call if you need me.”
Jerusalem went inside, and for the next hour, she stayed busy but could not help thinking about Clay and Ellie. Clay knows how to tame mules, but he don’t know as much about women as he thinks he does.
Finally, her grandfather came in, and she saw that it was not a bad day for him. “Hello, Grandpa. You’re late for breakfast.”
“I can eat anything, granddaughter.”
Jerusalem fixed a quick breakfast for her grandfather and then sat down with him. As they talked she realized how much she cared for him, but she could tell he was troubled about something. His eyes kept going to the open door where his daughter was sitting on the porch. He turned and looked at her, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“We’re goin’ to lose her, Jerusalem.”
Jerusalem had kept up a front before the children concerning her mother’s health, but she saw the truth in her grandfather’s eyes. “Yes, we are.”
“I wisht it wuz me. Why hain’t it me, Jerusalem?”
Josiah’s words came so softly that Jerusalem hardly heard them. “I don’t know, Grandpa.”
Obviously, the question had been eating at the old man for some time. He sat there toying with his cup of coffee and said, “Why did we lose your pa when he was such a young, strong man? Why Mark and not me?”
“I just don’t know why.” Jerusalem reached over and held his hand, still strong for his age, and he returned her grip.
“I wisht it wuz me,” he said again faintly. Then without another word, he got up and walked outside. He stopped beside his daughter, put his hand gently on her head, and murmured a few words before walking away.
Jerusalem felt the weight of all the past years suddenly settle on her. Jake’s constant wanderings and absence had been a heavy burden to bear. Every day that she woke up alone, she felt the love she once had for him growing dimmer. He had not proved to be the man she had thought he was. She remembered the days of their courtship, days when she saw nothing but his manly strength. When they were first married and Brodie was born, she was happy and loved him with a fierce love. But that had all changed now. As he began staying away for longer and longer periods of time, she tried desperately to think of how to keep him at home. But in the end she felt like a complete failure for her inability to make him want to stay with his family. Her thoughts gathered in her mind like an ominous dark thundercloud, and only when she heard her mother call her name faintly did she shake them off and go outside. “Are you ready to lie down, Ma?”
“I reckon I am.”
Jerusalem helped her mother out of the chair and guided her back to the bed. Slipping her out of her robe, she helped her lie down. The room was so hot she did not need to pull up the covers. Jerusalem sat down, and taking her mother’s hand, she stayed there with her for a long time. She knew her mother was in terrible pain and was using all of her strength to keep from crying out. Jerusalem sat there, admiring the indomitable spirit she saw in her mother, as a tear slowly crept down her cheek.
Jewel turned to face her. The disease had eaten away her flesh, and the beauty she once had was now gone. But in its place a divine glow radiated from her eyes. When she spoke, it was to mention for the first time what lay ahead of her. “I wish I didn’t have to leave you, Jerusalem—but my time’s close.”
Jerusalem’s throat tightened, and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Is . . . is there anything you want, Ma? Anything at all that I can get you?” The dying woman’s eyes closed, and she swallowed convulsively. Her voice was so low that Jerusalem had to lean forward to hear her.
“Just one thing, and I can’t have it.”
“What is it, Ma?”
Jerusalem waited, but her mother refused to speak. “What is it? Please tell me. I’ll get it for you if I can.”
“If . . . if I could just see Julie—”
The words came faintly, but when her mother opened her eyes, Jerusalem saw a longing so powerful and strong it made her catch her breath.
“I’d be happy to go if I could just see her once. I know she ain’t livin’ right, but I’d love to see her. I purely would.”
Jerusalem could not speak for the tightness in her throat, and she saw her mother’s eyes close and knew that mercifully she had dropped off into a fitful sleep. She sat there holding her mother’s wasted hand, then finally lifted it and held it against her teary cheek. She did not move, but her mother’s words seemed to echo in her mind, and she knew she had to do something. She began to think of how she could carry out her mother’s last wish.
“It’s Clay, Ma, and he’s brought Ellie Bratton with him,” Brodie said.
Jerusalem was cutting up a chicken, but she put down the knife, rinsed her hands off in the pan, and wiped her hands on her apron. She came outside and stood there as Clay pulled the wagon up. He had not returned the day before.
As he got out of the wagon, he took one covert look at Jerusalem and said quickly, “Ellie couldn’t come yesterday, so I waited.”
Jerusalem turned her eyes to Ellie, who had jumped out of the wagon.
She was wearing a tight, threadbare dress that was way too revealing for any decent woman. She had bold eyes and smiled crookedly at Jerusalem.
“Hello, Miz Hardin. I’ve come to find water for you.”
Clinton and Moriah, along with Brodie, had gathered, and all three were staring at Clay. Usually he was cheerful and smiling, but now he had a hangdog look about him, and he said again, “I just couldn’t get back, Jerusalem.”
“I know what you been doin’ with that scarlet woman—” Clinton began loudly. He opened his mouth to say more, but Jerusalem cut him off.
“You bite your tongue, Clinton!” She stared at Clay in a way that brooked no contradiction. Without turning her head, she said, “Brodie, take Ellie back home.”
“Wait a minute!” Ellie said, her face turning red. “I come to find water.”
“Get back in that wagon, Ellie Bratton. Brodie, you mind what I say.”
Brodie jumped into the wagon, and Ellie, throwing an angry lo
ok at Jerusalem, climbed in. She turned her head and cursed as they left the yard.
Clay could not seem to find anything to do with his hands. He finally faced Jerusalem and said defiantly, “I needed her to find water so I could dig that well.”
Jerusalem ignored him and said, “Moriah, you go take care of Mary Aidan. Clinton, you go down and pick those beans. They’re about ready. Clay, you come with me.”
For a moment, Clay considered going back into town, but when he saw the set of her shoulders, he knew he had better follow. She led him to the small cemetery and motioned toward the little bench.
“Sit down, Clay.” When he did, she sat down beside him.
Clay shifted uneasily and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and then started to speak. “I reckon I can dig the well anywhere you say, Jerusalem.”
Jerusalem did not speak for a time. She was looking at the tombstones, and the silence became so palpable that Clay could not keep still. He shifted as if he would jump up and run away.
Finally, Jerusalem turned and said, “It’s none of my business, Clay. You’re a man, and men won’t rest until they make a fool of themselves with women like that.”
Clay sat silently, unable to think of a single thing to say and wishing he had a good excuse to leave. She turned and faced him squarely. He was startled at the intensity of her expression and cleared his throat. “Listen, Jerusalem, I can—”
“Shush up, Clay, and listen to me. All the time you’ve been here, I’ve never thanked you for all you’ve done for us. I didn’t know how. I know you felt like you owed it to Jake to help his family, and maybe you did. I guess there’s some things between men that a woman just cain’t understand.”
Jerusalem reached out and took Clay’s hand, holding it in both of hers. A startled expression crossed his face, but she did not give him time to speak. “I thank you now, Clay, for plowin’ with those orn’ry mules when you hated every minute of it. I thank you for puttin’ food on the table for all of us. I thank you for plantin’ that cotton in the ground, and I thank you for spendin’ time with my children.”
Clay Taliferro felt the strength and warmth of her hands, holding his tightly. Jerusalem’s eyes, which had always seemed so cool and frank, now had a warmth he had not noticed before. Her green eyes seemed to have no bottom to them, and he could not help but notice the self-possessed curve of her mouth. A summer darkness lay over her skin, and where her dress fell away from her throat, he noted the smooth ivory shading of her skin. She had never looked so attractive to him, and he nervously lifted his eyes back again to her face.
Deep in the Heart Page 6