Southern House

by Mark Deloy

  I felt my chest getting heavy at the thought of Granny Ellen bandaging my knee and decided to sit back down.

  “Thank you, Hickory,” Burnside said, taking the podium once again. He asked for any more speakers, and then closed with a prayer. After he finished praying, he told us where the burial would be. I volunteered to be a pallbearer, and carried my grandmother out of the funeral home with five other men who were strangers to me.

  My car led the procession behind the hearse as we rode through town with our lights on. Other cars pulled over on both sides to let us pass. We arrived at Burnside Cemetery at the edge of town and Burnside delivered another short service and Granny Ellen was laid to rest beside Papa Hickory. I wished I had bought some flowers but I hadn’t seen a florist in town and somehow buying flowers at the Piggly Wiggly just didn’t seem right.

  The service was over by one o’clock and I caught Burnside in the parking lot.

  “That was a beautiful service, Reverend,” I said. “Thank you. Will you be able to make it out to the house this afternoon?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I need to run to the house for a bit and I’ll be by.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

  5

  I drove around town for a bit, killing some time and looking at all the stores. There seemed to be a wide variety of shops. I spotted a bakery, a hobby shop, another gun store, and a hairdresser called Mane on Main. I was always amused by the creative names people used for hair cut places. There was also a small electronic store, which also repaired iPads, a boutique and a shoe store. All in all, Centerville had most of the necessities of country living.

  I arrived back at the house and cleaned up a little and put on a pot of coffee. The reverend pulled up in the driveway a short time later. He was dressed in civilian clothes. He had on jeans, a plain black t-shirt, and a Braves baseball cap.

  I greeted him at the door and shook his hand.

  “Afternoon, Reverend,” I said, “Would you like some coffee?”

  “Yes, please. And call me Jim. I’m off the clock.”

  I got him his coffee and suggested we sit out on the back porch.

  We each pulled a patio chair up to the round glass table and sipped our coffee. He looked out over the fields.

  “Did you ever get down here to hunt?” he said, pointing at the deer stand at the near corner of the field.

  “Yes, although it’s been a few years. I would come down with my father. He’s passed away now. I’d like to do some this fall.”

  “Do you plan on staying here for a while?” Burnside asked again.

  “Yes, I do. But a lot depends on what my wife wants to do.”

  I expected more questions about my situation, my wife, and why she wasn’t with me, but Burnside just nodded. So of course I felt the need to explain.

  “My wife and I are separated at the moment. It’s kind of a delicate situation. I’m hoping this place will be our new start. Granny left me a considerable inheritance, plus the house and all the land. I’m very lucky to have had someone so generous care about me and my family’s well-being.”

  “She talked of you often,” Burnside said. “I’m glad you stayed in contact with her as she grew older. Many young people nowadays forget all about the elder members of their family. You talked on the phone every Sunday?”

  “Yes, I’d catch her up on everything that was going on with our northern half of the family. Then she’d tell me all about the town gossip down here. She probably wasn’t supposed to gossip, but I feel like I know half the people in town already.”

  Burnside laughed. “Yep, that was Ellen alright. I do dissuade gossip among the flock, but Ellen really enjoyed it. Nothing too salacious, nothing that would hurt anyone, but now that I look back, it was her one vice. I probably should have counseled her on it. She didn’t mention anything saucy about me, did she?”

  Now that got me laughing as well. The thought of Granny having some juicy tidbit of information on the reverend of the church cracked me up.

  “I’ll never tell.” And that got both of us roaring.

  “Is there anything I should know about the area?” I asked after we stopped laughing.

  “Well, the schools are pretty good. There is a private school. Riverloft Academy.”

  “We don’t have children.”

  “In that case, the nightlife is non-existent. There are a few restaurants and a movie theater in Columbia, but it’s over an hour away.”

  “Do you like living here, Reve…Jim?”

  “Yes, I like it very much, although, the congregation has dropped off recently and I’m not sure why. That’s partially why I asked you if your Granny had heard any rumors about me. I’m seriously wondering if one is going around that I don’t know about and that’s maybe why attendance has dropped off.”

  “Who is your competition?” I asked, drinking the last of my coffee in one swallow.

  “There are two other churches in town. The Methodist and there is a Catholic church just over the town line in Springdale. I’ve talked to Father Glenn at the Catholic Church and Reverend Latham at the Methodist. Their attendance is dropping off as well. Father Glenn has lost sixty percent of his people.”

  “It sounds like it’s time for a revival,” I said jokingly, but from the way Burnside’s eyes lit up when I said it, I just gave him an idea.

  “That, my son, is a terrific idea. We could make it like the old-time tent revivals. We’d have to rent a large tent, and rent some land, but I think the idea is a good one.”

  “Have it here,” I said without even thinking. “Granny would have loved the idea. You can set it up in field number one.”

  Burnside smiled, but gave me a quizzical look.

  “Sorry, it’s what I’ve always called the fields, one, two, and three. Number one is there,” I said, pointing to the huge open field. “Usually there is corn planted there, but I guess Granny decided to give the soil a year off. You could set up the tent in the very back and the rest could be used for parking. It may get a little dicey if it rains, but I think it’ll be perfect.”

  “I’d like to use your grandmother’s passing as the reason for the revival, if you don’t mind. A dedication of sorts, for everything she’s done for the church. Open the first service by highlighting your grandmother’s life and good works in the community. Then talk about how the community needs to come back to God.”

  “She would have liked that, too. If it’s alright, I’d like to rent the tent for as long as you need it as well. That way you wouldn’t have to pay for anything up front. Consider it a donation. Maybe I can write it off,” I said, half in jest

  “The use of the land is more than generous, Hick. I can’t let you do any more.”

  “Sure, you can. Granny wouldn’t have it any other way. Do you know of any party rental places that would have a tent big enough?”

  “Whitlow’s Rentals has them. I’ve looked into renting them before, for a wedding. Is next week, Monday too soon? I think a week would be enough to plan everything and set things up.”

  “That’s up to you, Rev. I’m just paying.”

  “May God bless you,” Burnside said, shaking my hand in the two of his.

  “Let’s hope so, father. I’ll only ask one thing in return. “

  “I’ll do it if I’m able,” he said.

  “Keep my marriage in your prayers.”

  “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  We each finished another cup of coffee. He invited me to supper, but I wanted to finish working on the house. I planned to go through all the rooms, box up my grandparent’s things and get the place ready to modernize.

  We said our goodbyes and I took a rain check on supper. Burnside left happy, and I could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

  I called the satellite company whose sign I’d seen earlier, and they said they would come out and hook everything up in two days. I asked them if they had Internet as well, and they
said they did. Then I called the electric company, the water, and the gas and had everything switched over to my name. I was glad the utilities all took checks by phone for the deposit so I didn’t have to go down there. Finally, I looked in the Yellow Pages for Whitlow’s Rentals and put the deposit down on the largest tent they had. I told them I’d be down to pick it up tomorrow. I hoped Burnside had some people who knew how to set the thing up, and I hoped my pickup was big enough to haul it, or I’d be renting a truck as well.

  As I was putting the Yellow Pages back in the drawer, I had another thought and looked through it for someplace that rented port-a-johns. The last thing I wanted was all those people using my bathroom. Granny had recently put in the new septic tank, but that would definitely put it to the test.

  6

  The storm arrived around midnight, with thunder so loud it woke me from a sound sleep. I hadn’t been sleeping well for the last couple nights since the dream about the tall man. Most of the time dreams fade from my memory very quickly. I heard that’s because your mind files dreams under short, short-term memory. Apparently it’s specifically set up for mostly useless memories and strange dreams, but the memory of the tall man with his dark shroud stayed in my memory as if he was haunting me.

  Lightning lit up the room through my open window, which I’d left, cracked a bit for some fresh air. If Kim was here, her allergies would have prevented that, but it was something I’d always enjoyed in the summer. There was no real use for central air in Upstate New York. Most cars manufactured and sold up there are made in Canada and don’t have air conditioning, either. But down here, although it was a necessity, I fought using it. Even though I had plenty of money now, my childhood ways had a strong hold over my actions as an adult. They always had.

  I’d grown up in Connecticut, where air conditioning wasn’t used much in the summer, either. We would open the windows at night and shut them and all the shades during the day. That kept it pretty comfortable on most days. I’d been trying to do that whenever the heat wasn’t nearing a hundred degrees, plus I liked hearing the frogs, and crickets at night while I slept. Cool air poured through the cracked window, and I got up and lifted the window even more. As I was standing in the open window a boom of thunder snapped and made me jump. At nearly the same time, lightning flashed, making it seem like daylight. In that split second, a field my window overlooked lit up, I saw something big, man-sized at least. My mind immediately recalled the tall man from my dream, but this thing wasn’t extra tall, or slender, it was just big, and bulky. Bigfoot? I wondered.

  Between being blinded by the flash and the now absolute darkness, I couldn’t see a damn thing. The field was totally black. I waited for another flash of lightning, while at the same time rubbing my eyes, but lightning never occurs when you want, or expect it to. Just ask the thousands of storm photographers.

  All was quiet again. I strained to hear something. What, I don’t know. Then the rain began falling steadily, and I could hear it drumming the metal roof above my head. The air coming in through the window screen smelled like damp hay and honeysuckle.

  There were a few more flashes of heat lightning, high in the clouds, but nothing to see by. I eventually went back to bed, convinced I was seeing things, or still half asleep. I thought maybe I’d go look for footprints in the morning. I could take some plaster casts, and open a Bigfoot gift shop for the revival folks, but then decided Reverend Burnside might not like Bigfoot being associated with our Lord and Savior.

  I soon fell back into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  7

  In the morning I went to go pick up the tent and make plans for the Port-o-Potty to be delivered. The tent was much too big for my pickup, but the guy behind the rental counter at Whitlow’s said they would deliver it and then set it up for another hundred bucks. I thought that was probably a bargain since I always volunteer for strenuous projects and end up paying for it for the next few days with soreness. I tried not to just throw my newly inherited money around, but it was for a good cause, after all. Well actually, two good causes: the church and my bad back. Speaking of, I was down to my last pill. I debated splitting it up into quarters and taking it over the course of the next four days. While I was thinking about it, I popped the little white pill in my mouth whole and chased it with my coffee.

  “Goodbye old friend,” I said.

  As I’ve said before, addiction is a bitch. I immediately thought about calling a doctor to set up an appointment. After all, I needed to have a primary care physician in the area, just in case. Then I wondered if I could actually find a drug dealer in the area without running into an undercover cop and getting arrested. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too difficult for someone with money. I had no idea where to even start looking. The local high school would be a good start. Then my rational mind kick-started and realized that asking a minor where I could score some opiates and getting caught was an extremely bad idea and would cement my image of a scumbag for the whole town in less than a week of moving here.

  I wondered what my mindset would be after three days, after ten, after fifteen. I’d never gone more than two days without at least one pill. I’d read somewhere it takes thirty days to make a habit, and thirty days to break one. I’d also read you start to feel human again after a couple of weeks of ditching the pills. The last thing I could remember reading was you would have cravings for up to a year. I wondered just how bad those cravings would be.

  One thing was sure; I needed to figure out right now how I was going to handle the withdrawal. I thought about hobbies, and realized I didn’t have any. Exercise would probably help, but the thought of going to a gym sounded painful. Then I started thinking about exercises I could do here, perhaps in the morning so I could get it over with early. My workout would also replace my daily routine of popping my first pill with my coffee. The problem was, watching a workout DVD was almost as depressing as the thought of going to the gym. So that left only a few options. I decided I was going to walk. I knew the land pretty well from the yearly hunting trips, but a thousand acres was a lot of land, and there were still plenty of areas to explore. So I’d get exercise, get some fresh air and explore my new property completely. I was excited with the prospect of beating this, of not just feeling human again, but being human and drug- free. I needed to do this, for myself.

  My long walks, as I came to think of them, started that very day. I’d start out light, walking to the end of the second field and back.

  I left the house. The rain had cleared out the dusty, humid air and replaced it with crisp, fresh-tasting air. The sun was heating things up already. As I was walking across the first field, I looked for any signs of the creature I’d seen the night before. But I saw no Yeti footprints or, really, any animal tracks at all. It was still very muddy, and I thought I would have seen something if there had been a real creature out here. I’m not a master tracker by any means, but I figured I’d at least see some deer or rabbit tracks in the mud. Perhaps they had bedded down for the storm and hadn’t made their way out to forage for breakfast yet.

  The three large fields ended in, and were surrounded by, dense forest that rose on an incline and then leveled off about a hundred yards up the hill. The deer liked to stand and overlook the fields, making sure the coast was clear before making their way down the tree- covered hillsides. They grew more and more hesitant, I discovered, after the first couple weeks of hunting season. By the end of the season, the does didn’t come down much to feed and the bucks stayed even deeper in the forest.

  At the end of the third field, several hundred yards from the house, were a series of natural springs and a waterfall, which supplied water to the house and had always flowed strong, even in the driest summers. I can remember Papa Hickory taking my dad and me to that waterfall when I was a boy and feeling the cool mist from it on my face as we stood near it, taking it in.

  I had missed this place. It held a lot of great memories for me. Being outside was wonderful. It wasn’t quite ten A.M. a
nd was already eighty degrees, but the trees on either side of the field gave some pretty good shade until later in the day. When you broke through the tree line, the temperature dropped about ten degrees. I decided my walks would primarily take place at the end of the third field near the springs. If I wanted to stop to get a drink, I could, and it would be cooler in the shade. Being near the springs and the waterfall might even drop the temperature even more. It was going to be a hot and humid summer.

  I also discovered, from my initial walk that I was sadly out of shape. I was winded by the time I got to the end of the second field. I kept going, however, and made it to the end of the last field. I could hear the gurgling water from deeper in. That would have to wait until tomorrow, or possibly the next day, however. I decided to rest for a bit, and then walk the tree line and see if I could spot any deer. The forest was filled with kudzu vines, oak trees and small shrubs. Rock outcroppings were plentiful and so were caves. I’d never had the guts to go exploring in them, but they peppered the hillsides and Papa Hickory had said at least one of them went a few hundred feet into the hill.

  He told me, once, the Indians used to bury their dead in those caves. They would dig a shallow grave, and then line it with the flat shale stone. He said they were called stonebox graves and there were hundreds of them in the caves. I’d never seen one for myself, but I’d always wished I had the guts to explore one.