The Curing Season

by Leslie Wells

  —Does your leg hurt you much? he asked, almost as if he’d read my mind.

  —A little, I admitted. —I had to go up and down Mrs. Whitmell’s basement steps a few times today, fetching things for her, and it always hurts after that. But I can’t complain. She’s a nice lady and she pays me.

  —How much does she pay? he asked.

  I thought this question a little rude, and hesitated.

  —Oh, come on, I’m not going to tell your Sunday school teacher, he said.

  —Five cents an hour, I whispered. Suddenly I was ashamed. I knew it was less than half what others earned, but I was grateful for anyone to hire me.

  —And she feeds me, too, I added.

  Aaron seemed to light up in a rage. —A measly nickel! You slave away at her house and she pays you a nickel an hour! That cheap miser! You have to tell her to pay you more, or you won’t work for her. I’ve never heard of such a lying fool in my life! A nickel! She should be hung!

  I was astonished at his outburst. I didn’t know why he cared so much. Could it be because he cared for me? Otherwise, why would it bother him if I was underpaid?

  Aaron seemed to calm down. —You are being taken advantage of. Do you understand that? he asked, turning and glaring into my eyes. He took my chin in his hands and held it tightly, too tightly for comfort. I nodded, hoping he would let go. I could feel the pinch of his grip after he released me.

  —Good. You do that.

  He seemed to feel we had arrived at an agreement about my wages, and his mood lightened. —I see we’re at your father’s road. Since I know he doesn’t want the likes of me on his property, I’d best be going.

  —It’s not only you, it’s anyone—

  Aaron held up his hands. —Don’t bother, I know when I’m not wanted. When will you be venturing out again?

  I thought quickly. —I have to go to the Boswells’ farm to clean up their kitchen and do some ironing tomorrow morning.

  —I won’t be around tomorrow morning, he said. —Maybe I’ll run into you later this week. He saluted and walked off.

  Tiredly I opened the pasture gate and went through it. As usual, I had trouble hitching the metal wire back over the wooden post. Finally I got it hooked and continued through the pasture, picking my way around cow piles. Most people hated the way they smelled, but I didn’t mind. Cows were more pleasant to be around than most people I knew.

  I puzzled over Aaron’s strange behavior the rest of the way home. He seemed happy to see me, but then his responses to my attempts at conversation were bizarre. I was sorry that after waiting to see him for more than three weeks, we’d had such a bad encounter. I wondered if I’d simply caught him in an off mood. Certainly that seemed the best explanation for it. And his disgust at my pay seemed overwrought. Why should he care so much what I earned? I could not figure it out, unless he was merely angry at an injustice to me. I was happy to think that was the reason, and comforted myself that he must care for me if that were so. Perhaps, I told myself, I would be out of the house before Sibby was.

  That night, after we were in bed, Sibby talked of Charlie. He’d walked her from the Myersons’ farm where she was picking this week, and they’d talked about so many things: the kind of family he wanted (a big one), what his sisters were like (talkative), his theories on farming (people were going to get tired of smoking eventually, and tobacco prices would drop). I must admit that for the first time ever, my mind wandered while Sibby was confiding in me. Finally she grew quiet, and I said,

  —He sure does sound nice. Do you think you two will get married?

  —I hope so, Sibby replied. —I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s so polite, so steady. And I think he’s really handsome.

  Charlie was good looking, but I thought Aaron was much more striking, with his dark hair and eyes. I hadn’t mentioned Aaron to her before; for some reason I’d held back. But now I brought him up.

  —What did you think of that fellow that came by looking for work a while back? I asked, then held my breath.

  —That scruffy man with the dirty overalls? I didn’t think much of him, she sniffed. —Why?

  I was too embarrassed to go on.

  —Why? she pressed. —Did you see him somewhere else?

  —I just thought he was kind of interesting looking, I said. —I saw him walking on the road, and he was friendly.

  —Watch out for those types, Sibby said in her older sister voice. —Those traveling, I need work today and I’m gone tomorrow men. No telling where he comes from.

  —Actually, he said he’s from Potters Creek, I replied in what I hoped was a diffident tone.

  —Hmph, Sibby sniffed. —I don’t know anyone from there.

  I kept quiet after this.

  —You sure you just ran into him once? Sibby asked, now curious.

  —Yes, I lied. —I imagine he’s gone from the county by now. I’m tired, Sibby, Mrs. Whitmell wore me out today. I’m going to sleep.

  —Good night, she said, but she was sound asleep long before I was.

  Chapter Eight

  The next time I ran into Aaron was several weeks later, when I was coming back from mending clothes at the church. We pulled our chairs together in a circle, said prayers, and then sewed. Some made quilts, and some mended things. I always had the family’s mending to do, since Sibby wasn’t patient enough to sit long for sewing, and Mother couldn’t see to thread the needle anymore. I’d take a basket of things and pull my chair back a little so everyone wouldn’t see how threadbare our undergarments were. I liked to sew and listen to the other women gossip. I enjoyed the companionship, and it was an excuse to be away from the house.

  Walking home with our basket of clothing, I was unprepared to run into Aaron, but as I walked by a packing barn there he was, lying under the shade of the tin roof, picking his teeth with a wooden toothpick he’d whittled. It occurred to me that he had a lot of free time for someone who was working, but then the thought passed. Maybe they’d given him an afternoon off, or he had finished early. He got up from his bed of grass when he saw me and sauntered over.

  —Let me take that for you, he said, hefting the basket under his arm.

  It wasn’t heavy, and I said I could carry it, but he insisted. I was embarrassed that he might see our undergarments in the piles of clothing, but he didn’t look.

  —Are you heading back home? he asked. —You look mighty tired today.

  My spirits sank, as I thought I looked better than the last time he’d seen me. At least I wasn’t sweating in the church basement the way I had at Mrs. Whitmell’s.

  —No, I’m fine, I said. —I was mending some things at church with some other ladies.

  —You’re a woman of many talents, he said.

  I looked up at him to see if he was laughing at me, but he didn’t seem to be.

  —Not really, I replied.

  His mood seemed normal today, unlike the last time I’d seen him. He seemed to be in a quiet frame of mind; thoughtful, even.

  —Why don’t we sit down and rest awhile? he asked. —You look like you could use some shade. Let’s head over there toward those trees.

  He pointed to the far side of the field.

  I knew I should go home to see if Mother wanted me to do anything, but it was so tempting to sit with Aaron. Our last meeting had gone so badly, I wanted to somehow make up for it. And he smiled so nicely when he asked me that I had to say yes.

  —Just for a while maybe, I said. —It would be nice to rest some before I go home.

  I followed him across the field, stepping carefully through the tall green grass so I didn’t lose my balance. He was whistling a strange tune that I’d never heard. I asked him a few questions, making an attempt at conversation, but he kept on whistling, and I told myself he hadn’t heard me.

  —Let’s sit here, he said, and leaned back against a tree.

  I sat beside him, smoothing my skirt down to my ankles. I remember that it was a comfortable spot, and when we sat, a
ll the birds stopped singing for a moment, then started up again. It was such a pretty sound, and I commented on it.

  —Not as pretty a sound as your voice, Aaron replied. —I was thinking about your voice just the other night. It’s nice and soft, not loud and irritating the way some women sound.

  —Thank you, I said, surprised. No one had commented on my voice before. I had never thought it was particularly soft, or particularly anything. Aaron smiled, and I felt my insides melt. He looked so handsome sitting under the tree, the wind blowing his thick hair back.

  —I think you have a nice voice, too, I added quietly.

  —Do you? Aaron said, and he scooted closer to me so that he was sitting beside me. —I’ll give you something else to like about me.

  He took my shoulders and hugged me to him. I clasped my arms around his neck, tears brimming in my eyes. This is it, I thought. This is the love of my life; I have found him. I pulled back, expecting Aaron to let go. But instead of releasing me, he pulled me to him again.

  After that, things happened quickly. Before I knew it Aaron’s mouth was covering my mouth, his hands were moving all over me. Finally I was able to push him away and sit up.

  —Someone might see us by the road, I said, brushing grass off of my skirt.

  Why I said this instead of protesting his actions, I don’t know. It was the first thing that popped into my head. Aaron looked at me and laughed.

  —Not where we’re going, they won’t, he said.

  He pulled me up, and we started walking down the road.

  —Where are we going? I asked.

  I knew I really had better start home, but it was so enticing to be in his presence again, and my stomach was still doing flips over his kiss. To tell the truth, I think I was afraid if I didn’t go along with him he’d revert back to his odd manner of the last time I’d seen him. I wanted more than anything to keep him in his current buoyant mood. He didn’t answer my question though; he just started whistling again. Eventually we set off down a smaller dirt path. Against my better instincts I kept going along with him. I told myself that I knew him, that it was all right. And I was hoping he’d want to kiss me once again before I went home.

  We came to his house, as he called it. It was really an old cabin he slept in, one side stoved in and the other half looking like it could collapse at any minute.

  —That’s where you live? I asked, pulling back. He’d caught hold of my arm somewhere on the path off the main road.

  —Yes, that’s my humble abode. Come on, I’ll show you. Aint much but it’s all I’ve got for the time being.

  I guess curiosity overcame what good sense I had, and I allowed myself to be pulled along by the arm into his shack. When I saw his living conditions, I felt an overwhelming sympathy for him. All he had was an open fire that he cooked on with a griddle, a pallet of rags, and one change of overalls hanging from a knob on the wall. A broken piece of mirror for shaving. And that was it. It occurred to me later to wonder why, with all his book learning, Aaron was reduced to living like this, working for hire in other people’s fields. Maybe he was sending all he earned home to his poor mother. I turned to him to express my concern.

  —You can’t stay here much longer, I began. —It’ll get cold in a few months. You have to find somewhere better to stay.

  —You worried about me, is that it? he asked gruffly.

  —Well, I—

  As I started to explain, he grabbed me and kissed me again, harder than before. Before I could catch my breath, he was kissing my neck and pushing me farther into the cabin, away from the door. I stumbled over the pallet, and he pushed me down onto it.

  —No! I can’t stay here, I have to go—

  —You’ll stay, and you’ll like it, he growled. Before I could protest again, he started yanking my skirt up over my legs.

  —Stop! Stop it! I screamed, trying to pull my skirt back down. It only ripped, which seemed to spur him on.

  —Don’t be a little tease, he said, pulling on my underdrawers.

  I screamed and fought him with all the strength I had, but it was not enough. He pushed me down onto the pallet and had at me like a savage. I had never before been kissed, much less had relations with any man, and it was painful, to say the least. I was sobbing and sore when he was finished.

  —What did you think we were coming back here for? To have tea? he asked. —Don’t pretend you didn’t want it too.

  Seeing that this only increased my tears, he tried a more tender approach, reaching over and stroking my arm.

  —Come on now, it wasn’t that bad, was it?

  I was crying and shaking, so horrified at the entire turn of events that I couldn’t begin to reply. Where was the Aaron I’d spoken to these past weeks, who’d held my hand to help me around ditches, who seemed so concerned for my welfare? I hurt in places I didn’t even know I had. I was bleeding and bruised, and too ashamed to ask for a rag to clean myself up. I sat there crying for some time.

  —Girl, you need to get a grip on yourself, Aaron said. He left the cabin in disgust and didn’t return until some hours later.

  • • •

  While he was gone, I tried to figure out what I should do. At first I thought I’d go home and tell Sibby what had happened, and get her help. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed I ought to wait and see what Aaron had in mind. Surely he must be planning to marry me. Maybe he had just been overcome with passion. I’d read books that implied this happened to men—that this kind of thing was beyond their control. Maybe it would be all right. I had invested so many hopes and dreams in Aaron Melville—it was just too hard to let go of them all at once.

  I decided that I couldn’t go home in this state of disarray, my skirt ripped and filthy with my blood. I could just imagine walking in the door and seeing the dismay in Mother’s eyes, the rage in Father’s. Sibby had warned me against Aaron, and I had foolishly ignored her advice. Until I could return home with a marriage certificate, I couldn’t face them. I decided to stay at the cabin and talk to Aaron when he got back, in a more reasonable frame of mind, I hoped. The more I thought about it, the more I felt sure we would go to a preacher the next day to set things straight.

  That’s what we’d do, I decided. I pictured myself finding a creek in the morning, washing off and rebraiding my hair, fixing my skirt so the tear didn’t show. Aaron would get cleaned up too, and we’d hold hands and walk together to the nearest church. Not Calvary, I thought; I didn’t want Reverend Davis to see me like this. There was a little church a couple of miles off with a younger preacher whom I thought might be more sympathetic to a couple who’d obviously had relations before their union was blessed.

  My body finally stopped trembling as I imagined the simple words being read from the Bible, Aaron’s chaste kiss on my cheek once the preacher had wedded us for life. Then we’d walk back to my house and make our announcement to my family. No one would be pleased; I couldn’t pretend that they would, I reminded myself. Least of all Sibby. But there wasn’t that much they could say. People ran off and got married all the time, didn’t they?

  • • •

  When Aaron stumbled back into the cabin, it was pitch-dark. He seemed cheerful, and in my naïveté I thought he was just in a happy mood, since he’d told me he didn’t touch liquor. Now I know that he was merely drunk. I hadn’t known where to find a candle, and he made a great fuss about lighting a kerosene lantern so he could see.

  —Don’t want to be sitting around in the dark, girl, he said. —Now, have you stopped all that crying? A woman crying turns my stomach.

  —Yes, I said. —What are we going to do?

  —Do? said Aaron. —I’m going to go to sleep. I have to work tomorrow, early. Tobacco don’t wait for any man, he said, and laughed.

  —I meant, when are we going to see a preacher? I insisted. —We could find someone tomorrow if we get out early. There’s a little church a couple of miles down the road from here—

  Aaron looked at me
and frowned. —You must have found my secret stash, he said. —You aint thinking too clearly. No one I know is seeing any preacher about anything. I make it a habit to avoid preachers of any sort.

  —B-but we have to get married, I blurted out. —Now that we’ve done this thing.

  —You can stay here with me, Aaron said a bit more gently, —for the time being. If you can’t go home. I can understand that. But no one is getting married, least of all me.

  —But what about what you were saying about us going to Unionville? And teaching me accounting? I thought you—

  —We may well go to Unionville, and then we may not, he said. —I’ll have to see how things shape up. If I go, you might come with me. And you might not. We’ll just have to see.

  With that, he flopped down on the pallet and fell to snoring. It must have been one or two o’clock in the morning. There was no way I could go home now; Father would have thrown me out. I sat up all night looking at the dirt floor, wondering what I had done.

  Chapter Nine

  After that first night with Aaron, things seemed to happen in a blur. I stayed with him in the cabin, afraid to go home. No family that I knew of would have admitted a daughter back into its fold after she’d spent a night out with a man unless they got married immediately. Try as I might, it was beyond me to come up with a giant falsehood about where I’d been and why I was so bedraggled.

  After a week went by, we had to move to where Aaron could find some work. He admitted that he’d been fired from his tobacco-picking job, he couldn’t find work anywhere in the area, and he was flat broke. He had to leave, and I insisted on going with him.

  What was left for me in Gower County? My name was ruined; Father wouldn’t have allowed me back into his house, and I couldn’t imagine the shame of facing Mother and Sibby. I was sure that Sibby knew I’d run off with Aaron, and that by now she’d told them of our conversation about him. I may as well have slept in a ditch if I stayed here. And as foolish as it may seem, I was still in love with Aaron. I just couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to marry me eventually. So I tagged along.