In the Midst of Innocence

by Deborah Hining

  My mother and father are very proud of Sardius, also, and so are my Pap-pa and my step-grandmother. We had a nice time yesterday, celebrating God’s blessings and helping Sardius plan for his future.

  January 26, 1932. Today, Miss Weston got a big surprise. She was teaching the eighth-graders their History lesson, and we seventh graders were working on pictures we were drawing of the Universe. I was trying to figure out just where Heaven might be, when all of a sudden, the door flew open and the best-looking man I ever saw in my life stood in the doorway. He was tall, with soft, black hair, white skin and pink cheeks, wearing the most beautiful coat made of fine wool, a dashing gray fedora, and a long, white wool scarf. He looked just like a movie star, with big, white teeth and flashing eyes!

  Miss Weston was writing on the blackboard when he came in, and she turned around, dropped her chalk, and went as white as a ghost. Then she turned red, got a mad look on her face and marched right up to him, grabbed his arm, and walked him out the door without saying anything to us. We all tried not to look, but of course none of us could resist, and we rushed to the window to peep out at them. It was hard to keep quiet the whole time they were outside. I know Miss Weston was freezing because she did not have on her coat, but they must have been out there at least ten minutes. When she finally came back in, she was nearly blue from the cold, but she did not say a word. She just went back up to the blackboard, picked up her chalk, and finished writing the word, “diaspora,” which she had only gotten halfway through when she had been interrupted.

  After school, she asked Sardius, Beryl, and me to stay for a minute, and when Otis Merriweather fooled around in the back of the room pretending to be looking for something after everyone else left, she said to him, “Otis, you might as well leave now. You will not have a chance to speak to Pearl this afternoon,” and he turned bright red and scurried out the door.

  Then Miss Weston turned red herself, cleared her throat, and finally stammered out, “I have a visitor who came unannounced, and it will be difficult to find accommodations. I hate to ask this of you, but do you suppose your grandfather might be able to host him for the night? I assure you he will be leaving first thing in the morning.”

  We were dumbfounded. Miss Weston lives in Preacher Miller’s house, one of the prettiest in this section of the country, and it is plenty big, especially now that the Millers have gone to Florida for the winter. I wanted to ask her why her guest did not stay at her house. In these parts, you do not turn away company who has come from far away to visit, but Sardius jumped right in and said, “Of course, Miss Weston, I am sure our grandfather will be happy to offer accommodations for the night.”

  I nearly guffawed at the way he said it. Beryl did giggle, but I gave her a little shove and she quit.

  Then, the most amazing, wonderful thing happened. Miss Weston took us outside and put us in her very own automobile! The man who had come to the schoolhouse was sitting in his automobile, a very fancy, shiny one, and he looked about near frozen to death. When we came out, he jumped out, and Miss Weston just said, “Follow me,” to him, and she got into her automobile and drove us to Pap-pa’s house.

  Miss Janey Jo met us at the door, and she was as nice as could be and brought coffee and hot chocolate so we could warm up, and we all sat in the front room until Pap-pa came in. Then Miss Weston said, “Mr. Aiken, I am in a very difficult position, and I must beg your indulgence. My acquaintance, Mr. Dean, has arrived unexpectedly, and we are having trouble finding accommodations for him. May I throw myself upon your mercy and beg a bed for him for the night?”

  Of course Pap-pa said yes right away, and he asked Miss Weston to stay for supper, but she said, no, she had to get us home, and she shooed us out the door and into her automobile without even looking at Mr. Dean again. Then she drove us straight home without saying another word to us.

  What a strange adventure! I think Mr. Dean did not get the reception he was expecting to get when he barged into that schoolroom. I bet she was mad at him for coming because she is struck on Uncle Woodrow and she did not want Uncle Woodrow to know she had another suitor.

  January 26, 1932

  Dear Cecilia,

  I have been through a most embarrassing incident. This afternoon, Jonathan showed up at the schoolhouse unannounced! He did not warn me he was coming—apparently he left in the middle of the night and drove straight here, and then just appeared at the door, expecting me, no doubt, to be pleased. I nearly died! My students saw everything, and I am certain word will get around that I have had a man come calling for me, made especially bad because I am now living alone in the Miller house.

  Of course, I could not let him even darken the door of the Miller home, so I made him sit out in the freezing cold while I finished the day’s lessons. Then I put the Wallace children in my car and instructed Jonathan to follow me to the Aiken home, where I begged a room for him for the night. The Aikens were very gracious, taking him in with open arms and a great deal more sympathy than I had for him. I did not even tell him goodbye. I just took the children home and came back here for the night. I hope that is that last I see of Jonathan Dean. The nerve of that man!

  I hope the Aikens did not let him know that the Millers are not at home for the winter. If word gets back to Father, I shall be in a world of trouble. Surely, they would not tell him. They are very discreet. It is midnight, and I am still so upset I cannot get to sleep. I hope he has realized that I will not allow my position to be compromised by his unwanted advances and that he leaves tomorrow without attempting to see me again.

  Your distressed, but loving sister,

  Emily

  January 27, 1931

  Jonathan:

  I do not know what you had hoped to accomplish by arriving at my place of work uninvited and unannounced. Did you not realize that your appearance would compromise my position here in the community? As an unmarried woman, I must live absolutely above reproach, and to have a man from out of town come and expect to stay overnight is anathema to my reputation. How dare you take such a cavalier attitude with my good name? It would have been bad enough if you had come only to my home, but you allowed all my students to see you, which means that word is already all over this community that I have been entertaining a strange man. I can only hope that the Aikens will do what they can to mitigate the damage you have done to me.

  What on earth made you think you would be welcomed by showing up like that? Do you have no consideration for my feelings, for my reputation? I am violently upset at your behavior, and I expect a letter of apology both to me and to the Atkins family who were so generous to put you up for the night.

  Emily Weston

  January 29, 1932. I missed 2 days of school because I had a cold, and I sure was glad to be going back today! Mama dosed me with so much garlic that I cannot stand myself. She made me swallow 3 buds this morning before we left. I hate to admit it, but that must have worked, because I could feel my cold leaving me as we walked across the ridge this morning. I felt perfectly fine all day.

  Darlene and I had a fun time this afternoon. We made popcorn during our French lesson, then read by the fire until it was time to start supper. Mrs. Carlton has the prettiest singing voice. She sang to us while Uncle Woodrow played Daddy’s banjo, and it was such a good time. Billy Ray can just stay away. Everyone is so much happier when he is gone.

  January 30, 1932. Daddy started drinking as soon as he got home today. It is 4 o’clock and he is still at it. Mama is in the bedroom crying. Sapphire has been squalling all day, too. I have done nothing but tend to Ruby and try to put some food on the table, and Beryl has been too mopey to be much help. Jasper and Sardius have been out chopping wood and mending the fence where one of the dogs chewed a hole in it. Uncle Woodrow is nowhere to be found. I have not seen Darlene. It is a miserable, cold day.

  January 31, 1932. We all went to church today, except for Daddy, who is nursing a hangover. Everyone is gloomy except for Sardius, who was happy to be going to church. Us
ually church cheers me up, too, but today Mama seemed so blue that it was hard to get my spirit in a good mood.

  I gave Pap-pa some whiskey today and asked him to buy Mama a sack of cornmeal instead of paying me. Her birthday is coming up next month, and I think it is better to give her something she can really use instead of getting her something just for pretty. I would like to get her something pretty, but I know she will appreciate good cornmeal more. She is like that. She cares more about her family than she does herself. We have about run out on account of Daddy stealing a good bit of our corn crop to make whiskey last summer.

  February

  February 1, 1932

  My School Journal, grade 7, Miss Weston’s class

  By Pearl Wallace

  My sister, my best friend Darlene, and I are taking French lessons. Both my mother and Darlene’s mother speak French very well. Darlene’s mother knows it because she is from Louisiana, where they speak French every day. My mother knows it because her mother believed that all young ladies ought to know a second and third language. Mama also learned German, but she does not hardly ever use it because no one likes to hear it since the Great War, in which we fought the Germans. They gave my Uncle Woodrow a case of shell shock back in 1918.

  After Darlene, Beryl, and I learn French, we will go to France where we can speak it every day. I also might become a missionary in France. I think a lot of the French are Catholic, so they need someone to set them straight about the Gospel.

  February 2, 1932. It is Groundhog Day, and guess what? He did not see his shadow! It rained all day, and although it was miserable to walk to school in the cold and wet, and to be stuck inside all day, we were happy because we will see an early spring. I, for one, am ready for spring. I have about had enough of the cold.

  We are running low on whiskey because Daddy has been hitting it hard the last few weeks, and Harvey Madison and Luke Roundtree have been helping him. There probably is not more than about 6 quarts left out in the barn. Jake Hatton left me a note today, but I had to turn him down on account of I am afraid to take any more. I hope Daddy is feeling fit enough to make some more soon.

  February 3, 1932. It is all over for old Al Capone! They sentenced him to go up the river for 20 years yesterday. That is something I do not like to think about. I sure hope they do not catch me. I would not like to spend nearly twice as much time in prison than I have already lived.

  Cold, dark days and nights.

  I am slow and languid. Replete.

  I fall between my banks, indolently watching.

  Sickness rears a head. I smell it, but I do not care.

  A clean passion flares to mask it.

  My children can tend to their own,

  Although they are blind in their paths.

  I cannot fathom enough to give voice.

  February 4, 1932. Darlene told me that somebody stole some of her mama’s step-ins off the line today. I do not think Beryl would do something like that, but she might if she were desperate enough. Mama has made her one new pair, and she pins the old ones together so they do not fall down, so Beryl should not worry about them. I will be glad when her new ones from Sears & Roebuck show up.

  Now I think on it, I do not think Beryl would steal Mrs. Carlton’s step-ins no matter how desperate she might be. For one, she has never stolen anything that I can think of, and second, they would be way too big for her.

  February 5, 1932. February is my least favorite month. It is dark, dreary, wet, and cold, and there is nothing to do. Jasper loves it because he has time to get back to his studies. In the wintertime, he spends every minute he can reading. Mama is pushing him to finish up the tenth grade before plowing season begins. He has to finish several more books and take some tests, but I know he will do it. He loves to read and to learn, almost as much as Sardius does. In a way, he may love it more, because he has to give up so much to make it happen. He works very hard during the days, then he stays up late at night studying. It makes me feel bad that the rest of us get to be lazy, with school being our main job, while Jasper has to keep up work around here, and squeeze in learning late at night.

  Even though it is cold and dark, in some ways, it is happier around here with Daddy gone. Maybe it is because Billy Ray is also gone, and we have the run of the place to ourselves without his meanness hanging over us. Even Mama seemed happier today. You never saw such a fine time as we all had over supper tonight. Mrs. Carlton baked a cake, although she had to get eggs from Uncle Woodrow as well as us, but it was worth the effort to find them. Mama made black-eyed peas with potatoes, and Jasper had caught four trout.

  Je suis tellement pleine que je pouvais exploser! (That’s French for “ I am so full I could explode ! ”)

  February 6, 1932. Daddy is home for his birthday today! Pap-pa and Miss Janey Jo came over for supper to help us celebrate, and Pap-pa brought Daddy’s handkerchief, Jasper’s fishing floats, Mama’s cornmeal, and Beryl’s step-ins. He called me outside to give them to me, and we hid everything except the handkerchief up in the barn loft. Mama and Jasper will get theirs on their birthdays next week, and I am saving the step-ins for when I can figure out how to get them to Beryl without anybody knowing it was me.

  Daddy was sober, but he did not look very happy. He looks tired, and he is jumpy. It seems as if he and Uncle Woodrow have changed places. Uncle Woodrow is jolly, while Daddy looks like he is spooked about something. He was happy to get my handkerchief, though, and once the celebration got started, he seemed much better.

  All was going fine until Billy Ray came over with Darlene and Mrs. Carlton. As soon as Billy Ray walked in the door, everyone got quiet. We all know what Billy Ray does to Darlene and Mrs. Carlton, and we all were burned up that he would have the nerve to show his face to us. He was loud and friendly, as if we all were his best friends. No one said anything, but everyone there wanted to kill him. I could tell that Jasper cannot stand to be in the same room as him. Almost as soon as he got here, Jasper jumped up, saying he was going to start hauling water for our baths, and he and Sardius went out with their buckets. I wanted to go, too, but was curious about how Billy Ray would act around Daddy and Uncle Woodrow. He generally acts like they are all big buddies, but there is no reason to. Daddy has not asked him to go hunting with him ever since he moved back. Uncle Woodrow does not hardly speak a word to him anymore.

  Daddy and Uncle Woodrow tried to be nice for a little while, but when Billy Ray slapped Mrs. Carlton on her bottom, Uncle Woodrow got a mad look on his face, jumped up and walked out of the room without saying anything. It makes him mad to see anybody hurt anybody else. Billy Ray sat real quiet for a minute, then he got pouty, and he yanked Mrs. Carlton’s arm, saying it was time to go home.

  It was a bad end to Daddy’s birthday party, but at least we got a lot of water for our baths, on account of Sardius and Jasper doing so much hauling. Mama is bathing the little ones now, and Beryl and I get to go next. I am looking forward to a nice, hot one. It is cold outside! I hope Billy Ray did not take our slight against him out on Mrs. Carlton and Darlene.

  February 7, 1932. Mama managed to get Daddy up and dressed and off to church with us. Miss Weston preached from the book of James. James was Jesus’ brother. All his brothers and sisters thought Jesus was crazy, until He was raised up from the dead, and in the early years, they spent a lot of time trying to keep Him out of trouble with the priests. After He was risen, James became his biggest follower, and he did not care who knew it!

  That makes me wonder if Jesus were my brother, would I believe that He was the Son of God? I worry that I might not. It makes me feel bad that I would think He was crazy and talk about Him behind his back. As good as Sardius is, I would not believe him if he told me he was Jesus. It is just too hard to imagine what that might be like. I wonder why their mother did not tell them?

  If Jesus were my brother, I wonder what he would say about my bootlegging business. Would he make me stop, even if it meant that we all might starve? He did a little bootlegging h
imself, sort of, when He turned the water into wine, although He did not make any money from it. If His mama were cold and hungry, He could make a miracle and give her anything she needed. Since I am not God, I have to work miracles in my own way, and somehow, I do not think He really minds.

  Beryl got a bad headache this afternoon, so I decided it was time to give her the step-ins. I hid them in the chest of drawers where she keeps her things. Tomorrow when she goes to get dressed, she will find them, and will she ever be surprised!

  February 7, 1932

  Dear Cecilia,

  If, a year ago, you had told me that I would turn a cold shoulder to Jonathan Dean while he begged me to look upon him favorably, I would have laughed at you! How much I have grown and learned in the past few months. It seems that I have been here for much longer than that. I have matured and increased in wisdom in so many ways that I cannot count. Jonathan seems like a feckless, spoilt child to me now.

  I think about how much I tried to get him to notice me, how I slavered at his every word, how I longed for him to look at me, and when he did, I nearly melted with childish infatuation. Now I know that is just what it was—infatuation. I am learning that love is much deeper, much more selfless. I know now that love means looking at someone and understanding his pain, and being willing to do anything to help relieve that pain. It means to be able to sit back and wait, and hope, and be resolved to let things take their own measure of time.

  I have been reading about the lives of the saints, and I am beginning to understand that real love is patient, kind, compassionate, giving. Not given to selfish impulses. Jonathan is none of those. He has become whiny and needy. He angered me so much, by coming here without my permission, that I have not written to him at all except to chastise him mightily. He, however, has written me three letters since then! It is such a relief to know that my sentiments have matured so much during my time in these beautiful, hard, rugged, quiet mountains. Jonathan wants what he cannot have. When I considered him a shining idol, he wanted little to do with me, but now that I am standing upright on my own two feet and no longer find him so charming, he is throwing himself at me. Men! How childish and foolish they can be.