Abram put his head back and let out a little circle wisp of smoke that floated above his head, "Ain't seem to bother your sister none."
And sure enough Annie looked over and Emma was now taking puffs from the same little kind of cigarette with Colby that Abram had. "Emma! Mama’s gonna whoop you and me both if she catches you."
"Well how’s she gonna know less you run and tell her?" Emma asked accusingly. "Just hush up!" And she went back to her conversation with Colby.
Annie wasn't liking being behind the building anymore. It was bad enough Abram telling her she was too young and her sister treating her like a little child in front of him, but the men smelled bad and Abram's smoke kept drifting in her face. "I think I bes' be going inside now," she told him.
Abram quit leaning against the tin siding and scolded her, "Why? What's wrong with being out here and visitin' a little?"
He kind of scared her the way he got so offended like that, "I promised my Mama I'd help her with some of the settin' up," she lied.
"Fine," he said disappointedly, "go on, then." And as quick as he had gotten mad he was smiling at her again, "I hope to get to dance with you tonight, though."
Annie went back around into the building and decided she would help the women set the tables, after all.
As the night's festivities progressed Annie forgot all about being upset with Emma for talking down to her or being bothered by Abram's moodiness. She was having a great time. The fiddlers were fiddling and everyone was on their feet. She had danced with her father, danced with Candace, and was currently dancing with Gerald, a cute boy her age. He swung her around and spun her so fast she got dizzy and fell right over on her butt and laughed herself silly. Gerald went off to find someone else who could handle his fine dancing abilities without falling over and going into hysterics. Annie was still sitting and laughing at herself when she felt two hands come up under her arms, the fingers of which were unnecessarily close to her breasts. She heard Abram's voice and smelled whiskey on it, "Here, let me help you up, girl." He had already started picking her up so it wasn't so much as an offer as a statement.
She felt herself being placed back on her feet and turned around. Abram then took her by the waist and started dancing. Well, it was a dancing of sorts. She might have been the one falling over a minute ago but it was him that was lacking the proper balance now. He tried to give her a little dip and nearly stumbled right over on top of her. "H-h-had a bit too much to drink, maybe," he breathed in explanation. His breath was so rank she could practically see the words coming out of his mouth.
She turned her head to the side trying to deflect some of the foulness. She tried to walk off or at least take a couple of steps back so he wouldn’t be hanging all over her like he was, but his arm was holding around her waist too tight. Just when she felt she couldn't stand being next to him anymore she felt another hand grab and yank her away from him. Marcus pushed her aside and stood glaring at Abram.
"What'd you go and do that for?" asked Abram, wearing a look of true confusion.
"Cause I don't like you hanging on my sister like that," warned Marcus. He was a few years younger than Abram but Marcus had a temper not to be trifled with.
"We was just dancin'. She fell down and I helped her up." He looked over in Annie's direction, "Ain't that right?"
Annie figured even if he had been dragging her around like that on the dance floor, the part about him picking her up was true enough. "Yes. He did help me up, Marcus."
"Don't care," Marcus said flatly. "You stay away from her."
It probably would’ve ended there, but Abram made a poor decision in his intoxicated state. He took a couple of steps towards Marcus with his own glare in his eyes and said, "Well fuck you, you little . . . " but whatever else he was going to say never came out. Marcus hit him so fast and so hard that Abram didn't know he'd been hit until after he was on the ground. Then a dull ache, which quickly became a throbbing pain, pounded in his jaw. Blood dripped on the dirt floor and the music stopped as people began to stare and whisper. He tried to get up but his entire head was pounding, and every little movement seemed to make it worse. He could feel his lip busted and swelling and the whole right side of his face felt like a sledgehammer had just made his acquaintance.
Mr. Stotley came running over when he saw it was Marcus in the scuffle, "What's going on over here?"
Marcus pointed down at Abram. "He was hanging all over Annie."
Mr. Stotley looked at Annie. "That true?"
She felt a little torn. She appreciated her brother looking out for her and didn't much care for the way Abram was acting with her, but he was drunk and Marcus didn't really need to hit him so hard like that. "He’s just drunk, Daddy. He didn't mean no harm and Marcus was just being over-protective is all."
Mr. Stotley looked at Abram moaning on the floor and at Marcus, who stood with his fists clenched and the same look on his face that he had given Candace earlier that day, except now it was intensified. His father knew that look and that more trouble might follow if they stayed, so he said, "Well, I think we better call this a night. Marcus, you go wait with your Mama while I round up your sisters," and he strolled away to go find his remaining two daughters.
Marcus sternly, but without anger, grabbed Annie by the arm and marched her towards the other end of the dance hall where their mother was standing aghast in embarrassment. But after just a couple of steps Abram called out to him, "Hey, boy!" He tried to get up but found it difficult being both intoxicated and knocked stupid. "Dis here ain't done. I'm gonna get you, boy. You hear me? We ain’t done!"
There was no reply from Marcus but Annie looked back with worry.
As if Mary Stotley hadn't been mortified enough by the night's events she got a double dose when her husband informed her during the long walk home that he had found Emma outside with some fella's tongue down her throat. He didn't know Colby's name to immediately identify the offending tongue's owner to his wife, but after briefly describing a corn-fed looking fellow with big bushy sideburns and broad shoulders, she knew exactly who he was talking about.
Mrs. Stotley decided she'd give it a night's rest before discussing the various things that occurred on that Friday night, but over Saturday breakfast she addressed her scandalous children, "I'm thinking we might just let your father and Candace go to the dance tonight and maybe you three stay here with me," she told Annie, Emma, and Marcus.
Annie and Emma broke into an immediate uproar, "What? But, Mama . . ."
Marcus might have been disappointed, or maybe just overly concentrating on his bacon, it was hard to tell.
"Well, after the way you three behaved last night, I just think it's best if . . ."
"What'd I do?" interrupted Annie. "Weren't none of that my fault, Mama. Some drunk man come up and grab me and Marcus flies off the handle. How's that my fault?"
Mrs. Stotley huffed a little, "Maybe if you hadn't of spent such a time out there in the fields with that man he wouldn't think it's all right to go grabbin' you like that. I saw y’all out there jibber-jabbering all day long. It's no wonder he's taken an interest. You might as well have wrapped yourself up in a bow for that scoundrel the way you stood out there eatin' up his advances." She looked over at Emma and said "And you, Emma. Sneaking off and offending your upbringing by making out with some brute none of us knows anything about. Ain’t no tellin’ where he’s from or what kind of upbringing he’s had. What were you thinking?"
"He's not a brute, Mama,” Emma said defensively. “He's nice. And he’s the only boy that ever liked me so much." There was a sad truth in Emma's words and it broke her mother's sternness a little, but she was still severely disappointed in such behavior.
"Well, that's still no reason to be acting like you were raised up to act like a harlot, Emma Stotley."
Dramatic as ever Emma burst into tears, "We was only kissing! Oh, please, Mama. I just have to go tonight. Everyone's going to be there and it only comes once a year."
&n
bsp; Annie threw her misery in as well. "Please, Mama. We won't do anything to cause no trouble." Marcus looked over at her as well with a slight plea in his eyes. After all, until the trouble last night with Abram he had been having a grand time with Mary Jo Greenley.
With so many pitiful eyes on her Mrs. Stotley felt outnumbered. Mr. Stotley had been doing his level best to stay out of the conversation up to this point. He knew Emma was a powder-keg of emotions and the less he had to deal with womanly outbursts the better, so far as he was concerned. He sat quietly mopping up the last bit of the gravy on his plate with half a biscuit.
"Well, what do you think, Papa?" asked Mrs. Stotley. "You think these three should be allowed to go to the festival after their antics last night?"
The table was quiet and when Mr. Stotley looked up he saw all eyes were on him.
"Oh, please, Papa, please," Emma said.
He chunked the last of his biscuit in his mouth and chewed slowly to buy himself a few extra seconds of peace. Truth was he didn't really care. He was proud of Marcus for standing up for his sister and even though he loved his daughters he didn't worry himself much about them. He figured the two oldest girls along with Marcus would be married and moved on soon enough and he'd finally have a little bit of quiet around the house. And if Emma fell in love with that big oaf she was kissing on, then the quicker she'd be out from under his roof. "Well, I reckon it does come only once a year. And besides, weren't such a big deal, I don't think. Not less we make it out to be."
And so Mrs. Stotley accepted her defeat. She was outnumbered and her marital alliance had broken down with Mr. Stotley’s indifference. They worked around the house for the early part of the day. Mr. Stotley hid himself in the garden out back enjoying the peace and quiet of the squash, zucchini, peas, tomatoes, beets, cabbage, and carrots. There was a secret Tom Stotley walked around with. One of the reasons he was such a hard worker in the fields, always early to arrive and late to leave, was because he couldn't stand being cooped up with his family. Among Candace's girlish squeals, Annie and Emma's squabbling and emotional outbursts, Marcus' eternal solidarity, and his wife's being so opinionated about every little thing under the sun, he felt completely without his own individuality. Four kids and a wife in a three-room home had consumed his personal freedom years ago and the only place he found solace was at work under that infinite sky that let him breathe. Going home each evening to the confining walls of his life depressed him. He could feel the walls closing around him at night as he slept, crowding in on him and taking more and more of his personal space. It was only the thought of the waiting freedom outside in the fields and the fact that some day soon his children would be grown and out of the house that gave him any sense of optimism. He never told his family, of course, but Marcus always suspected a little. In a not so different sense, he felt the same way. Mr. Stotley loved his family, he just wished they'd leave him alone for a good long spell, let him breathe a little in his own home.
Since the children had won their cause Mrs. Stotley and Emma spent the day sewing on another floral patterned dress so that Emma could wear it that night. Annie played with Candace and Marcus walked on down to the Wilkins' house to help Mr. Wilkins make repairs to his porch for a bit of spending money.
While he cut and nailed the boards Marcus was being watched. Out in the distance on worker's row Abram Mayfield sat telling himself all the horrible things he'd like to do to Marcus. His bottom lip was swelled up like a balloon and he could hardly talk without an aching pain shooting through his jaw. He had been smoking hemp all morning to dull the pain and his eyes were glazed over. One of the friends he had made by sharing some his stockpile with was with him, too, and said, "Hey, Abe, ain't that the fellow what punched you last night?"
Abram just kept right on staring out towards Marcus, "He sucker-punched me and I was drunk as a skunk. That's the only reason he got the better of me. But I aim to make a reckoning with that boy," he told his friend.
"What’re you going to do?" asked the other.
Abram put his fingers up to his busted lip and winced in pain, "I'm going to make him bleed a lot worse than me, that's for sure."
And so Abram went around that rest of that day making plans. He told his housemates what he wanted to do and one of them offered to join in. Colby, though, had genuinely started to like Emma. He had grown up hard and never had a woman be so nice to him and care for him like she did. His own mother had died giving him birth and he had been shipped around from relative to relative until he struck out on his own. Emma wasn't what most folks would call a pretty woman, but she was good to him and that meant more to Colby than looks ever would. So he listened to Abram's plans but told him he wasn’t taking any part in them. And later that night when Emma and her family showed up to the dance hall he pulled her aside as quick as he could. At first Emma thought he wanted to make out some more and was going to protest as she didn't want to get in trouble and have to leave just after getting there, but instead he said to her, "Look, I’ve got to talk to you. It's about your brother."
"What about him?" she asked.
He whispered close to her ear, "Abram and some others are looking to get him alone tonight and hurt him something bad."
She jumped back a little with wide and scared eyes, "What’ve them other fellas got against Marcus?"
"Abram been going around telling some of the other whites out in worker’s row about how Marcus sucker-punched him when he was drunk and nearly passed out. He’s also been telling them that Marcus said they was all white-trash niggers that were stupid and lazy, and the like."
"He never said no such thing!" Emma cried.
"I know he didn't, but it don't matter. A couple of them boys believe him and when he said he wanted to teach your brother a hard lesson tonight for saying such things they said they wanted a piece themselves. There's four or five of them all told, now, and they’re all liquored up, so there ain't no tellin' what they’ll do if they get the chance. You got to warn your brother and get him to go on home just as fast as you can."
"I'll go and find him right now." She looked into Colby's eyes and realized that he had risked getting in a scrape himself by telling her what he did, "Thank you, Colby," she said, "I ain't going to forget it."
He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a pat on her rear, "Go on, now. And make sure don't none of them see you two leave alone. I'll go out back with the fellas and make sure that don't none of them follow y’all."
Annie had seen Emma and Colby talking furiously and before she could ask Emma why she seemed so unnerved, she was being told, "We’ve got to find Marcus," started Emma. She briefly explained the situation to Annie.
Annie was terrified at the very thought of it. "Oh, my God. I knew it, I just knew it. I heard the way Abram was yellin’ at Marcus that night when we walked off. I knew he was going to do something!”
They found Marcus eating with Mary Jo and her folks and urgently waved him over to tell him where things were.
When they finished he just looked at them coolly and said, "To hell with them. I ain't scared of a bunch of dumb-ass, lazy fools like them boys."
"But Marcus, you gotta go. If they all catch you ain't no telling what they might do," pleaded Annie.
"What’re they gonna do here with everybody watching on?" asked Marcus. "To hell with them." And with that comment he went back over to Mary Jo and sat down to finish off his chicken pot pie. She seemed to be asking him what the fuss was about but he just waved it off.
"Stubborn idiot," said Emma. "What’re we gonna do now, Annie? We can't let them other fellas rip Marcus limb from limb. And you know if they do get him alone he won't have the sense to try and get away. He'll just stand there and try to take them all on like a damned fool."
Annie herself was almost in tears. "I don't know. I just don't know what to do. You reckon we should go tell Mama and Papa?"
They held hands for a second as Emma thought. "Na, Mama would just have herself a heart attack and we'd all be
locked up in the house from now until the end of days. And Papa would just let Mama handle it however she wanted to, so best not to tell him, neither."
Then another idea struck Annie. "Abram likes me," she said. "At least it seems that way. Do you reckon I could talk him out of it?"
Emma's eyebrows raised and she looked at Annie. "That's not a bad idea. He does like you, that's plain enough." But the idea worried her, too. "What if he's just as mad at you, though. You don't think he'd go off and hit you or something, do you?"
Annie thought about it for a moment and imagined herself walking up to Abram and him punching the daylights out of her. She decided it didn't seem likely. "I don't think so. He’s got a temper maybe but I think he'd be all right. Besides, we gotta do something."
"Well, all right, then," said Emma, "and I'll go with yah. If he does take a swing at you, though, I'll fight him just like a man. And I know Colby wouldn’t let it get outta hand. That'd help out a lot. Besides them being friends and all, Colby's a lot bigger than any of them other boys. He’d make them think twice about giving us any trouble."
They set off to find Colby, who was outside with the others drinking. Abram was there, too, and when he saw them walking up he said, "What the hell do you two want?"
Annie was a little intimidated but she managed to speak with confidence. "I wanted to talk to you about my brother."
"What about him?" Abram said with a snarl.
"I don't want no trouble between you and my brother for what happened last night. He was just being protective is all."
"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have sucker punched me like he did."
She certainly wouldn't have called it sucker punching, as Abram had walked up on Marcus like he was going to throw a punch himself, but it had been awfully quick and she didn't want to agitate him further, "I know. He's my brother, though. He's supposed to be like that."
"Yeah, and what reason does he got to be going around calling us white-trash niggers fer?" asked one of the other men, who let a disgusting glob of chew fly out of his mouth.
The Ghosts of Varner Creek Page 6