The Curing Season

by Leslie Wells

  —Jeeesus wept, Peter crept and Moses went fishing! Come on, Cora, we don’t have all night! I hear the music starting! Sibby urged.

  —You go on without me. I’ll be there in a few minutes, I said.

  —No, I’ll stay with you. Isn’t it exciting? I just know you’ll have a good time tonight.

  A juicy smile of anticipation burst upon her lips.

  Finally we came to Jonas Smith’s big old barn. He had a couple of socials there every year, since he had three daughters who loved to dance. His oldest had gotten married to a farmer she met in this very barn, so there was a reason behind the parties. The other two, May and Willa, were snooty girls who prided themselves on being able to sew the latest patterns. Tonight they were wearing new cotton frocks with big flowers appliquéd on them, and big yellow bows on the back of their heads. They greeted the line of newcomers, flashing big smiles to the boys and sizing up the girls’ outfits. They looked down their noses at Sibby’s and my washed-out dresses, but they spoke politely enough.

  —How are y’all? they said. —Have some refreshments before you start dancing. Mama made a good coconut cake.

  —Thank you, Sibby said. —Thanks for having us.

  I followed behind her, saying hello. When we’d passed them, she whispered to me, —May would be almost pretty if she wasn’t big as the side of a barn. But I’m afraid Willa couldn’t do a thing with her plug-ugly self if she had two fancy dresses on.

  —Hush, they might hear you! I whispered back.

  She just laughed at me and dragged me by the hand over to the refreshment table. I took the paper cup of lemonade she gave me and we helped ourselves to the coconut cake.

  Sibby’s eyes were already roving around the big room, and I took the opportunity to look for Aaron. Bales of hay were piled up everywhere so people could sit, and the fiddlers were tuning up their strings. Several boys and girls waved for Sibby to come over, but she just waved back and stood by me. I saw no sign of Aaron, but it was early yet. Maybe he’d show up later in the evening.

  —You can go on over to Betty and them, you don’t have to hang around me all night, I said to Sibby. I knew she was dying to join her friends.

  —I’m fine right where I am.

  She took a tiny sip of her lemonade. It was funny to see her try to drink like a lady, when at home we’d have water-gulping contests and wind up with our whole shirtfronts wet.

  —If anyone wants to talk to us, they can come right over here, she added.

  Soon two boys approached us; Tom Givens and a fellow I didn’t recognize.

  —Hi, y’all, Tom said, addressing us both but looking only at Sibby.

  I’d gotten so used to this kind of one-sided salutation that it rarely bothered me anymore.

  —This here’s my cousin Charlie Walpole, from Mattox County, Tom continued.

  —Hi, Charlie, Sibby said, her face lighting up with her smile.

  —Hi, I muttered, figuring no one would notice what I said. To my surprise, Charlie smiled at Sibby and then looked right at me.

  —Nice to meet you, he said. —I hear the fiddlin’s going to be mighty good tonight. I hope I can tempt you two out onto the floor at some point tonight. At different times, of course.

  Sibby raised her eyebrow at me and smiled. —That would be just fine, she said. —And Tom, you owe me a dance from last time when you stayed out on the floor with old Aubrey Whitelain. She knew she was stealing a dance from me, and she just kept you out there. I had to sit the whole dang thing out.

  Charlie smiled at her. —I can’t imagine you having to sit out much if you didn’t want to, he said.

  —See you girls later, said Tom, and they left out a side door.

  I knew they were going to drink out of their flasks; Tom’s flashed silver in his overalls bib while he was standing there. I didn’t approve of it, and Sibby knew that. But she just laughed when I commented on their drinking.

  —Long’s they don’t act like Father when they’re drinking, I don’t mind, she said. —I wouldn’t mind a nip once in a while myself.

  I gasped, and turned around to see if anyone had heard her. Sibby laughed. —Shut your mouth, Cora, you’re catching flies. I think that Charlie fellow is a fine piece of work. I may give him a good spin out there on the floor, if these geezers ever get their fiddles tuned.

  Just as she spoke, the fiddles whined loudly and sprang into a wild country jig. Nelson Ridout came and grabbed Sibby’s arm and had her out on the floor before she could say goodbye to me. I didn’t blame her; I knew she loved dancing more than anything. If I could have flown around like she did, I would have loved it, too.

  I walked over to the side of the room and sat down on a big bale of hay. The stalks pricked my legs through my skirt uncomfortably and when I shifted, I spilled some lemonade on my dress. I gulped down the rest of it just to get rid of my cup.

  All the boys started coming up and asking the girls to dance. One by one, they trailed out onto the floor. I sat watching, as I always did. Usually there were three or four girls left out with me, and we would gather together at the refreshments table and make spurious conversation, trying to ignore the fact that there was a dance going on. But tonight for some reason, maybe because the fiddlers played as if they were possessed, every single girl but me was asked to dance.

  When Nanny Williams left her seat to go out onto the floor, I knew I was doomed. Nanny was the only one, other than Ann Hodges, whom I could count on never to be asked. Fat and ungainly, with moles all over her face, she and I had commented on the weather and church business so many times through these affairs that I felt I could recite the color and placement of each mole in my sleep. For Nanny to be asked was the last indignity. I was the only girl in the whole teeming place who was sitting the dance out.

  To add insult to injury, I saw Wade Beacham walking around partnerless on the floor, talking to his friend Jared Opsher. Jared was reeling Pam Tucker around in a wild fling, and carrying on a conversation with Wade at the same time. Wade had to see me sitting there, had to be aware I was the only girl left out. In fact, I was sure the entire dance floor saw me sitting there, as isolated as the last burr clinging to a prickle tree when the wintry winds begin to shriek. I was sure they were thinking to themselves, poor old Cora Slaughter, can’t get somebody to shuffle around the floor with her, when even the worst of the wallflowers have been plucked from the vine. I wished Aaron was here. Surely he’d have come over and walked me around the dance floor, even if only out of pity.

  I sat as if paralyzed on the hay bale. My whole face felt hot, and I was sweating under my thin cotton dress. I wanted to get up and walk out, but if I did, wouldn’t it draw more attention to my pitiful state? I hoped that if I sat there, frozen, people wouldn’t see me even if they looked my way. For a few minutes I prayed for Wade Beacham to come over and end my agony, but I saw him glance in my direction once and determinedly go back to talking to Jared as he flung Pam around the floor. He saw me; he was just not going to help me. My eyes darted around looking for Sibby, but she was now at the far end of the room dancing wildly with Tom’s cousin, Charlie. She wasn’t going to rescue me; she only had eyes for him.

  The song seemed to go on endlessly. I looked over at the ladies serving lemonade, hoping one of them would notice me and come over to help me, talk to me, get me out of there. But no one did. I didn’t know how they could not see me, sitting alone as I was, but no one came to save me, not even the adults. It seemed like the longest dance in the world. I wished that I could disappear.

  Finally the music stopped. The minute couples started milling around and coming off the floor, I pushed up from the hay bale as fast as I could and went outside. I didn’t realize I’d been crying until the cool night breeze hit my cheeks. I swiped at my face, flushing with shame. What a complete embarrassment I must be to Sibby. All I could think of to do was to start walking home. That way I wouldn’t have to see everyone else avoiding my eyes for the rest of the night.

 
The dirt road shone white under a full moon. I trudged along, kicking up dust with every footstep. Crickets sounded in the ditches, then fell silent as I approached. A few steps later, they’d start up again. Even the insects want to avoid my company, I thought in self-pity. The sweet smell of the hay tickled my nose, and I blew it on my pocket handkerchief. The mucus was black with the dust I’d inhaled. I wondered if it was streaked down my face, as well.

  I hadn’t gone far when I heard laughter and footsteps behind me. Embarrassed that it might be someone from the dance, I moved to the side of the road and hoped they’d go on by without paying me any mind. But soon I heard my name being called.

  —Cora! Land sakes! Wait for us!

  It was Sibby. I looked back and saw her and Charlie coming along behind me. I came to a stop and waited. Sibby came huffing up.

  —Why on earth did you leave? I went to bring you some lemonade after that first dance and I couldn’t find you anywhere. Willa said she saw you light out onto the road.

  I hoped that Charlie couldn’t see I’d been crying.

  —I didn’t feel like staying, I tried to say in a carefree voice. —I was tired of that music. It was so loud, I was getting a headache.

  Sibby looked at me closely. —All right, I’ll walk on home with you. Thanks, Charlie. I hope to see you again sometime.

  —Oh, I’ll see you two girls home, he said. —I prefer your company over all that’s in there. I’ll double back and catch Tom at the end of the dance.

  Sibby and I exchanged glances. Father might be home, and if he was, we’d better not show up with Charlie in tow.

  —Tell you what, Sibby said. —You can walk us to the pasture gate. Our father doesn’t like us to entertain at home.

  —All right, Charlie said evenly. He seemed to take everything in stride; me leaving the dance, our father not wanting company. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers.

  All the way home, we talked and joked. A big-bellied moon followed us high over the rustling cornfields, making the slender stalks shiver with light. Charlie talked about wanting to raise cattle, and Sibby got me out of my mood by poking fun at May’s dress. I was laughing so hard by the time we reached our pasture gate that I almost forgot my earlier humiliation. We stopped to say goodbye to Charlie.

  —I enjoyed it, Charlie said, shaking Sibby’s hand and then mine. —Since I can’t come calling, when can I see you again? he said, this time addressing his comment more to Sibby.

  She told him what days he could walk her home from her tobacco-picking job, and they parted with plans to see each other again that coming week. Walking through the pasture in the moonlight, she told me all about Charlie; that he was finished with school and was helping his father farm.

  —They have a hundred twenty acres in Mattox County, and he’ll come into sixty of it when he gets married, she said.

  —He told you that already? I asked.

  —Not only that, Sibby said, smiling. —He told me he’s going to marry me, come hell or high water.

  I stopped still in my tracks. For a moment I could not move. The thought of Sibby leaving home filled me with despair. How could I go on if she wasn’t there to take up for me at school or worse, in our house? I stared at her, scarcely breathing.

  —When? I asked.

  —When what?

  —When are you going to marry him?

  Sibby laughed. —Oh, that’s just crazy boy talk. He probably says that to all the girls, she replied. —I wouldn’t let it bother me for more than a minute.

  But the rest of the way home, all she talked about was Charlie. How he wanted to get out of tobacco eventually and raise dairy cows, feeling that tobacco was a doomed enterprise in the long run. How he had two younger sisters, and how he wanted her to meet them soon. How he thought his parents would like her. And so on. I listened with half an ear, feeling desperate. Despite what she said, I knew this was it. Sibby had never acted this way about a boy before. She would be eighteen in November. I knew she’d be out of the house in less than a year.

  Chapter Seven

  With all this on my mind, I went to work at Mrs. Whitmell’s place. Sibby was still picking tobacco at a neighboring farm, but I had grown so dizzy in the record-breaking heat that she had asked Mrs. Whitmell if I could help out indoors for a few weeks. I hated to leave her doing the hard work, but I really needed a break from the hot sun. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold up with the pain in my foot and no sign of a cool breeze.

  Mrs. Whitmell was a kind, fat lady from our church. Her husband had died several years ago, and her two sons were running their big farm. She loved to cook, but given her size and the heat, she sweated immensely and had trouble getting all her ingredients together. In particular she did not like going down her basement steps, so I was kept busy going up and down them, bringing her the jars and bottles she needed.

  Unfortunately, I never learned anything about actual cooking, since she did all that herself. But she loved to talk and I liked to listen, so we made good companions. At times when she was overcome by the heat, she would sit in a kitchen chair with her blouse unbuttoned, her enormous bosoms glistening with sweat above her brassiere, and I would fan her. When it got too hot in the kitchen, we’d go out on her front porch and drink huge glasses of iced tea. It was a pleasant way to earn money, the only drawback being that my foot ached horribly if I had to go down the basement steps too many times. But I didn’t complain for fear she would hire someone else in my place.

  On my way home from Mrs. Whitmell’s, tired but happy with my quarter in my pocket, I tried to imagine living at home without Sibby—no one else to help Mother, no one to draw Father’s ire away from me and WillieEd. I worried about whether Charlie was serious about marrying her.

  They’d only just met, but things had happened quickly before in Gower County. One of the girls in the upper class at school had met a boy from Cheatham and had married him the following weekend. One of Mother’s cousins had run off with a traveling wares salesman she had met just the previous week. Her family had never gotten over the scandal of it; they didn’t even allow her name to be uttered in their presence. I wondered if Sibby would do anything so precipitous. I would try to pry it out of her tonight to see what her plans, if any, were.

  I was so deep in thought that I did not hear the footsteps behind me until they were almost upon me. I whirled around and there was Aaron, almost as if he had materialized out of the hardbaked red clay.

  —I didn’t mean to surprise you, he said cheerfully.

  I couldn’t believe I’d finally run into him again. I had begun to think he’d wandered off looking for work in some other community. I guess absence does make the heart grow fonder, because he looked even better to me than he had the other times I’d seen him. Again I marveled at how his dark eyes seemed to glitter in the late-afternoon sun.

  —I called out, but you didn’t hear me, he continued. —Thinking about the dinner you’re going to fix when you get home?

  I didn’t know where he’d gotten this idea that I was such a cook, but I wasn’t about to dissuade him. My heart was beating so fast at seeing him again that I felt as if a big hand had grabbed it and was rhythmically squeezing it. I only wished I looked less bedraggled; I knew an afternoon in Mrs. Whitmell’s kitchen had left me worse for the wear.

  —No, I, uh . . . I was thinking about a book I read this week. A novel. It was written by a woman named George Eliot, isn’t that funny? But she took on a man’s name since back then women weren’t supposed to write books . . .

  I faltered when I noted his look of disdain.

  —You don’t like novels? I asked. I had assumed he was quite a reader, from the way he talked. But maybe he did not like fiction. I could see that a man might not; might prefer works of math or science, for instance.

  —Not much. I don’t like to sit around and read. Drives me stir-crazy. I’m a man of action, myself.

  I puzzled over this. —But you must have had to have studied a lot
to get so good at numbers, I said. —Did you tire of books after you learned all your arithmetic and accounting?

  Aaron laughed, and I caught a whiff of something on his breath. Surely not, I thought; he told me he doesn’t drink.

  —I tired of books, that’s right, he said. —After I studied arithmetic.

  He laughed again. I didn’t know what to say to this, so I lowered my head and looked at the cracks in the dry road as we walked. There were so many grasshoppers jumping in the fields that at times they would spring out at me and stick in my skirt. I’d brush them away with my hand, and Aaron would chortle.

  —Don’t like bugs, do you?

  —Not much, I replied. —Do you?

  —Not much. The worst are lice. Takes a long time to get those buggers out of your head.

  —My little brother had them once. Someone had them at school. Horrible things. I shuddered.

  —What do you like, aside from books? Aaron asked. —Got many boyfriends around here?

  —Oh, I don’t have any boyfriends, I said shyly. I thought it was an odd question for him to ask.

  —Oh, I bet you do. You young girls always have boyfriends, several of ’em, he retorted, grinning into my face.

  —You’re not all that much older than me, are you? I asked, trying to turn the conversation around. I knew he was grown, but I thought he was maybe twenty-two, twenty-three.

  —How old are you, fourteen? he asked, ignoring my question.

  —No, I’m sixteen, I replied. —I’ll be seventeen in a few months.

  —I see. Big girl, he said.

  —How old are you?

  —Too old for you to ask, he said, scowling.

  I felt embarrassed. —I’m sorry, I just thought—

  —Never mind. Never mind how old I am. I’m old enough to know better, that’s how old I am, he replied with a leer.

  I didn’t know what he meant by that, and I didn’t think I wanted to know. Somehow I couldn’t get the conversation to go in the right way, the way it had gone the other times I’d seen him. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t like me anymore. But why would he walk along the road with me? He could have spoken and gone on ahead. For anyone to walk at my pace was an effort.