Appalachian Daughter

by Mary Salyers

  “You’re a good cuz!” JD put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “I hate to ask you this, but have you got any money?”

  “Sorry, I don’t have one red cent.” She looked at him with wide eyes. “I got an idea. Joe Clark’s been your best friend for a long time. Why don’t you see if he’ll loan you some money?”

  “Good idea.” JD nodded, patted Maggie’s arm, and turned toward the ladder to the loft. Maggie took the lead straps and headed for the cows standing near the barnyard gate. What am I going to do without JD? The tears ran down her cheeks and fell to the ground in spite of her best efforts to staunch them.

  * * *

  The week after JD left turned really crazy. Aunt Opal had pretended she didn’t know what could have made JD leave. Maggie had no sympathy for her tearful worry about where he might have gone or why he would do such a thing. Finally, Reverend Lewis had come to tell Aunt Opal about the phone call from Uncle Thomas saying JD was in Detroit with him. The Lewises had the only telephone for miles around, and they often delivered messages for people in the community.

  The morning after Uncle Thomas’ message, Maggie had almost finished milking when her father had appeared at the stable door. He remained silent until she had turned the cows into the pasture. Then he had looked intently at her. “Did you know JD was running away?”

  She could not lie to her father, so she had confessed everything. “Daddy, you should of seen how Aunt Opal bruised his legs where she beat him. He made me promise not to tell.” She hung her head, no longer able to look at her father. “I’m sorry.”

  Ray had put his hand under her chin, lifted her face, and looked into her blue eyes for several seconds before finally saying, “I think you probably done the right thing, Sunshine.”

  Now, she sat on a big rock near the spring. She faced the house, so she could see anyone coming in her direction. At church this morning Reverend Lewis had slipped her an envelope addressed to her in care of the Lewises. On the back of the envelope JD had written, “Don’t let no one else see this!”

  “I guess you and JD have some secrets,” Reverend Lewis had said.

  Maggie had smiled without saying anything and slipped the letter into her Bible. She had been antsy all through Sunday dinner and until the girls had washed and put away the dishes. Then she had taken the Grace Livingston Hill novel Mrs. Lewis had lent her and told her mother she was going down by the spring to read. After checking carefully to see that the coast was clear, Maggie took out the letter and ripped it open.

  Dear Cuz,

  Thanks so much for helping me make my getaway. I hope you didn’t get in no trouble for it. I spent the first night at Joe Clark’s house. Like you said, he loaned me some money & helped me get some medicine for my cuts and bruises. You & Joe was the only ones who knowed I was headed for Michigan.

  Daddy was mad as hell when I showed up. But he calmed down a little when he saw how bad Mama had beat me up. He says I can stay here until his vacation in July, but then I have to come back home.

  Here’s the part that you can’t let nobody else know about.

  Maggie scanned the path to the house and the roadway making sure no one approached. She opened her book and placed the letter inside to appear as if she were reading the novel.

  Daddy is living with a woman here. They have been together for nearly three years and they have a little girl. I can’t believe I have a little sister! She is really cute & seems to like me. Here’s the part you won’t never believe. Daddy’s woman is colored!

  She gasped. Her mouth gaping, she quickly looked around again before rereading the last few sentences. I don’t believe this! Aunt Opal will just die. Shaking her head from side to side, she returned to the letter.

  Stella’s real nice, & she’s been good to me. She said she’s going to fatten me up before she lets me come back to Tenn. It’s hard for me to imagine being fat, but her cooking beats the heck out of Mama’s. My black eye is pretty well gone, & my legs don’t look too bad neither. I can’t say I’m looking forward to coming back home, but I guess I won’t have much choice.

  Maggie tried to picture Stella, but since she had never actually seen a Negro, her mental image lacked clarity. She took several deep breaths to calm her pounding heart before she started reading again.

  Thanks again, Cuz, for your help. I guess I’ll see you in about six weeks. I promise after I get home we’ll have some good times. Now, take this letter & burn it & keep this news to yourself. DON’T TELL A SOUL! Daddy told me the beating I got from Mama was nothing compared to what he would do if I ever let Mama know about Stella & the baby. I just had to tell someone, & I knowed I could trust you to keep it to yourself.

  Your cuz, JD

  Maggie hadn’t realized she had held her breath until it suddenly escaped with a whoosh, like somebody had stuck a knife in a tire. Still not convinced she had understood, she read the letter once more before tearing it into small pieces and stuffing them into her pocket. She would put them in the stove later.

  So... this is our little secret. Uncle Thomas will come home in July pretending to be Aunt Opal’s faithful husband, thinking she’ll never know the difference. She wondered how long he thought he could get away with this double life. I guess he’s already managed to fool everybody for three years.

  “How could Uncle Thomas do such a thing?” she said aloud. She sucked in a sudden breath when she thought of the trouble ahead if Grandpa found out. Maggie remembered one Sunday last summer, during a dinner at Grandpa’s house, she’d heard him brag, “No niggers ever eat or spend the night in this county. We let them buy gas but tell them to keep moving after they pay for the gas.” She also remembered later her daddy had made it clear that they were never to say the word “nigger.” Instead they should say “colored” or “Negro.” But Maggie had had no problem with that since no Negroes lived in her county.

  She looked toward the house and sighed. If this news gets out, it won’t be me who tells. She finally stood to walk to the house. Time to do chores. She thought of all the work they would have to get done before JD and his father came in July. Six more weeks of drudgery, but at least JD was coming back. With that encouraging thought, she quickened her steps and managed a crooked smile. Maybe my summer won’t be so bad after all.

  CHAPTER 2

  Campbell Holler–July 12,1880 Picked blackberries–made jam. Beans ready to pick next week. Soon have apples. Must get preserving finished before baby comes in September.

  (Diary of Mary Louise Campbell)

  July 1949

  Maggie, Betty Lou and Jeannie finished placing fifty half gallons of freshly canned green beans on the shelves of the root cellar. Jeannie rubbed the sweat off her forehead. “Mama says we’ll need fifty more cans of beans to get us through the winter.”

  “I hate canning beans. Those vines give my arms a rash.” Betty Lou flipped her dark braids over her shoulders, and scratched her irritated forearms.

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby! Do like Grandma and make a paste by mashing up cucumbers and rub it over your arms.” Maggie began to close the heavy wooden doors to the root cellar. “At least it don’t take as much time as stringing them up with a needle and thread for leather breeches like Grandma does.”

  “Ugh!” Jeannie wrinkled her nose. “Grandma told me yesterday her beans would be ready by the end of next week, and she wants me to help her. Last year me and her had strings of green beans hung to dry all across the back porch. They looked like a green curtain.”

  “But I like Grandma’s leather breeches,” protested four-year-old Junior, who liked to watch his big sisters and listen to their talk. He padded on bare feet covered in yellow mud from wading in the little brook that ran along the dirt road to join the creek farther down the hollow.

  Maggie smiled at him and roughed his hair like swishing the suds in the dishpan. “Wish Mama had a pressure canner so we didn’t have to boil the cans in a big tub over the fire in the backyard. Takes a lot of wood to
keep that tub boiling for three hours.”

  “Lucky for us, no beans is going to be ready this week while Uncle Thomas and Uncle WC are here.” Betty Lou rubbed her rash-covered arms. Shortly after returning from serving in World War II, their two uncles had taken jobs in an automobile factory in Detroit. Each month they sent money to support their families and came home for a short visit once or twice each year. The children enjoyed the attention and special treats their uncles heaped on them during their visits, especially Uncle Thomas. Maggie stopped in the shade of the apple tree. Now that I know about his other woman, I probably won’t even be able to look at Uncle Thomas. But I’ll have JD around again. That thought made her mouth curl up in a satisfied grin.

  Suddenly a shrill scream pierced the air. “The rooster’s chasing Johnny Ray again!” Junior yelled. Corie Mae rushed out the back door just as Johnny Ray raced around the side of the house with the rooster only a step behind him. When Betty Lou swung a stick at him, the rooster skidded to a stop and ran the other way. Johnny Ray leaped into Maggie’s arms, gripping her around the waist with his legs and holding tightly to her neck, like a drowning man clutching his rescuer.

  “You okay, Buddy?” Johnny Ray sniffed and nodded his head. Maggie could feel his trembling arms and pounding heart, and she tried not to laugh, knowing the rooster really could hurt him. For some strange reason, the rooster never attacked anyone else. And it made a funny sight to see them–Johnny Ray galloping as fast as his skinny legs could go, screaming his head off, and the rooster flapping his wings and batting at him with each step. Sometimes the rooster stalked him or hid behind the smokehouse or the woodshed to ambush Johnny Ray.

  “Maggie, can you catch that rooster?” Corie Mae stood on the stone porch steps, arms akimbo. “If you can catch him and wring his neck, we’ll make chicken and dumplings for dinner tomorrow. Thomas, JD, and WC should get here sometime tonight, and after church we’ll all go to Grandma’s house for dinner.” Then she reached to take Johnny Ray from Maggie’s arms. “That’s the last time that old rooster’ll chase you, Honey.”

  Maggie had watched her mother wring a chicken’s neck many times. It seemed fairly simple. Mama held the chicken by its head, swung it around in a small circle a couple of times with a little jerk to break its neck. Then she tied its legs to the clothesline and cut off its head with a butcher knife. Maggie knew she could do it.

  Jeannie, Betty Lou and Junior helped Maggie herd the rooster into the chicken house where Maggie caught him. Squawking, he flapped his wings, and pecked at her, as she carried him out by his feet. While the children watched, she grabbed him by the head and began to swing him around at arm’s length. Because he weighed more than she expected, she couldn’t quite give his neck that jerk the way her mother did. Thinking his neck should surely be broken after about ten circles, she turned him loose. He went up about a dozen feet into the air and came down flapping his wings, hit the ground, and staggered off. The children hooted and shouted.

  “Catch him!” Maggie screamed. The poor rooster, still addled after his aborted execution, lurched like a drunk toward the hen house. Betty Lou had him in an instant. “This time I’m going to cut off his head with the ax.” Maggie headed for the woodshed.

  * * *

  Maggie loved Sundays–the only day they did not work, except to prepare meals and care for the animals. Best of all, she could see Mary Ann at church. But today her eagerness to see JD occupied all her thoughts. The difficulty of keeping quiet about JD’s letter had required much restraint. A dozen times she had caught herself just before blabbing some comment. Guess I won’t see him until after church when we go to Grandma’s for dinner. Don’t think I can act normal around Uncle Thomas. Hope he won’t guess I know his big secret.

  After Sunday School, Mary Ann and Maggie chose their usual seats a few rows back on the left side where she could watch as Betty Lou played the offertory. After Betty Lou had taken piano lessons from Mrs. Lewis for several months and learned a simple hymn, Reverend Lewis had asked her to play the offertory each Sunday. Maggie liked to watch her father while Betty Lou played. He leaned forward with his arms folded across his chest watching with intense concentration, his eyes shiny.

  As Betty Lou finished, Grandpa Campbell surprised Maggie by walking down the aisle and taking a seat in the second pew. Oh, no. Every time Grandpa Campbell came, Preacher Lewis called on him to “say a few words,” which always turned into a sermon. Grandpa only showed up when he had something to say, and usually what he said embarrassed her. He’ll get up there and preach and preach, and church will last till way past noon.

  Just as Maggie feared, Reverend Lewis came to the pulpit. “We’re glad to have Preacher Campbell visiting with us today.” He nodded to Grandpa. “I’m wondering if you would be so kind as to share a few words.”

  Grandpa Campbell stood and walked to the platform carrying his well-worn Bible. A short, slightly-built man with thin gray hair and sharp features, he wore blue overalls under his old brown suit coat. As usual his plaid shirt was buttoned to the collar, but he never wore a tie. “Thank ye, Brother Lewis. You’re always so gracious to me when I come here to give ye a word from the Lord.”

  Maggie could hardly believe her eyes when Grandpa removed a paper from his Bible. Grandpa never wrote out or read his sermon. He believed the Holy Ghost filled his mouth with the words of the Lord as he spoke, as did most Pentecostal preachers.

  “This here’s a article from the newspaper gived to me by Brother Hicks down to Maple Grove. The Holy Ghost laid it on my heart to give ye a warning from the Lord today. It says here that they’s making a new Bible.” He held up the article. “They’s already printed the New Testament, and they’s working on the Old. It says here the whole Bible’ll be ready by 1952. It’s called the Revised Standard Version." He folded the paper and replaced it in his Bible. Then he hit the pulpit with his hand, making Maggie jump, and she and Mary Ann got the giggles.

  “This is the work of the Devil!” he shouted. “The Devil and the Communists. The Communists are taking over the world. Just read the news. They’ve done took over China and closed the churches and killed the Christians. Now they’re coming after us. I’m warning ye today, Brothers.” Grandpa was getting wound up. Maggie scooted lower in her seat as if she could disappear.

  Maggie knew his religious beliefs had come from Great-grandpa Campbell’s family, which had a long history of ecstatic religious practices. But she didn’t understand why Grandpa believed the Bible taught so many restrictions. He believed a woman should never cut her hair or wear makeup or jewelry. Women should wear long skirts and keep their arms covered. A woman must obey her husband, and if she disobeyed, the husband should beat her into submission. Children must be disciplined into total obedience by whatever means necessary. He could quote a scripture to support every opinion. To Maggie those rules did not sound like what a loving God would expect.

  Maggie looked at her father, who sat in his usual place in the second pew with his good friend Larry Collins, Mary Ann’s dad. Her father also wore overalls, his plaid shirt buttoned up to the collar, and though midsummer, a gray suit coat. She wondered what he thought about this tirade.

  Fortunately her father did not agree with Grandpa on the discipline. Ray hardly ever raised his voice, and Maggie had never seen him hit any of the children and certainly not Corie Mae. A different story for her mother, who frequently raised her voice and also wielded a mean switch when one of the children disobeyed. She had learned the hard way that it did not take much to get her mother riled. Maggie looked across the sanctuary where her mother sat holding sleeping Jay in her lap. Corie Mae sat with closed eyes, lips firmly pressed together, her head nodding in agreement as she listened.

  Grandpa, red faced from all his shouting, preached in the customary way of the mountain preachers. “I tell ye, brothers, huh! I’m giving ye a warning from the Lord today, huh! The Bible says, huh! Not one jot or tit, huh! Will be added or changed from the Word, huh! This is the work
of Satan, huh! The Communists are trying to tear down our country, huh! We must fight against this great evil, huh! Don’t let this new Bible into your church, huh! Don’t let your children read it, huh! God will bring down HELLLL fire, huh! To burn up all those who bring this evil among us, huh! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hear me today, huh! My dear friends.”

  Maggie sighed with relief when Grandpa began to wind down. He finished by again thanking Reverend Lewis for inviting him to deliver the “words from the Lord.” He turned, shook hands with the pastor, who sat on the platform behind him, and, picking up his Bible, walked straight down the aisle and out the door. Maggie slid further down in the pew, folded her arms across her chest, and rolled her eyes at Mary Ann.

  * * *

  Whenever the family shared a meal, they always went to Grandma and Grandpa Campbell’s house. After a short courtship, Grandma and Grandpa had married when Grandma was eighteen. Great-grandpa had helped them build a house at the head of the holler. They used timber from the land, which they cut themselves and hauled to the sawmill. Great-Grandpa had insisted they build a big house because he knew the difficulty of raising a family in only four rooms. So the house had four rooms on the first floor and two rooms upstairs. Maggie thought her mother lucky to have had a room all to herself.

  Like Maggie’s house, it remained unpainted inside and out. Grandpa had made much of the furniture himself, mostly cane-bottomed straight chairs with ladder backs. Grandpa had dug a well, but the house had no running water. The family often met in the large dining room for Sunday dinner, where everyone sat around the large table except Grandma Campbell and Corie Mae, who hovered nearby ready to refill glasses and wait on the table. Maggie wondered if anyone would mention Grandpa’s denunciation of the “new Bible,” but everyone seemed interested in the big dinner the women had prepared.