by Chris Fabry
She gritted her teeth and grabbed Daisy Grace’s hand and marched toward the barn. The adults tried to reason with her, following closely, but Jesse had a mind of her own. I stood by my mother when the screaming started. It was Daisy, yelling at the top of her lungs when Hairy Arms grabbed her. There was kicking and scratching and biting from Jesse. Soon, Daisy was in the back bench seat of the Buick and Jesse was yelling things not fit to print. A string of four-letter words flowed like water.
“Would you listen to the mouth on that girl,” my grandmother said. “This is a mess and a half.”
My mother tried to calm things, but Jesse was in a frenzy. Nothing my mother said could take the fight from her. The sheriff finally instructed everyone to move away. The man got down on a knee in front of Jesse and spoke softly.
“Anybody but the Branches,” Jesse said. “You don’t know what they done to me when I was young.”
The sheriff held up a hand and talked lower. Jesse’s breathing calmed, her chest not heaving as much. She finally nodded and walked toward the house. But she went crazy again when they put Daisy Grace in the back of the Buick. Jesse wouldn’t get in. The officer spoke with Hairy Arms and the man got in and backed up, almost hitting the cruiser, then rolled toward the road. I’ll never forget the sound of the gravel crunching under that man’s balding tires.
The sight of Daisy being taken away alone must have triggered something. Jesse bolted down the driveway, banging on the Buick’s back door. Brake lights flashed and Jesse flew into the car and hit her head on the windshield. She was stunned enough for Hairy Arms to grab her and get her in the backseat next to Daisy. Then they drove away.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1984
Jesse sat on a rock, staring at me, elbows on knees, as comfortable on the hill as a queen on a throne. She fit easy into the landscape or the crook of a tree or a teenager’s handlebars. I rubbed my eyes and sat up.
“How you doin’, PB?”
I smiled. “I’d offer you marshmallows if I had them. I already gave you all my daisies.”
She grinned, showing her two front teeth that hadn’t changed. “It took me a minute to figure out what was going on. I thought maybe Dexter Crowley was proposing.”
“Thanks for coming.”
“I figure you deserve it after all we went through.” She picked up a stick and held it to the fire. “Remember when you first came here? You were a Butterball turkey.”
“You didn’t make fun of me, though. You and Dickie accepted me.”
“And the pounds fell off as you rode that bike and climbed the hills.”
“You guys sweated it off me.” Memories of the three of us running the hills returned. “Do you think Blackwood ever figured out what happened to his horse?”
She shrugged. “I sure never told him.”
“Do you ever see Gentry?”
She shook her head. “He’s got a family now. Lives down in Ironton, from what I hear. I don’t keep up with him.”
The crickets sounded like a symphony. Small animals moved in the brush near the tree line. Something howled on the next ridge and Jesse stared at me. “What are you really doing here, PB?”
I winced. “I still have questions.”
“I got a bushel basket full that have never been answered. Life is full of them. You ought to know that by now.”
I looked at her hands, calloused and worn. She had nicks and scrapes from all the cutting and a couple of strategically placed Band-Aids. Hearing her voice was like listening to a song I had heard in my childhood and had never forgotten.
“If Earl catches you and me out here, things will get ugly.”
“Isn’t he having his bachelor party?”
“He’s not into that kind of thing. The Lord really got hold of him.”
“Then I don’t need to worry. He’ll turn the other cheek, right? Isn’t that the Christian thing to do?”
“Maybe. But you might ought to worry about the other Turleys. They’re not quite as sanctified.”
“You think Shirley will come after me?”
She gave a hint of a smile. “She was sweet on you. I heard about it later. She must have given up on that dream because she’s married and has two kids and another’n on the way.”
“Are you serious?”
“Shirley turned into a really nice woman. Pretty, too. You missed a good one.”
“I expect they’ll say the same about you after you start having babies.” I grabbed some grass and pulled it from the ground. “Which, as I hear, will be pretty soon.”
Her mouth dropped open. “And where did you hear that?”
“The father of the baby told me.”
She turned her head, a surprised smile on her face.
“Is it true?” I said. “It’s none of my business. And I’m not judging you. But is that why you’re getting married?”
She stood, hands on her hips, fire in her eyes. “Is that the question you want answered? You want to know if I’m pregnant?”
“Sit down,” I pleaded.
She sat but didn’t relax.
“Let me be honest. I’m not saying Earl is a bad guy. But it feels like you’re settling for less than you’re worth.”
“And you’re the knight on the white horse who’s going to show me how much I’m worth?”
“I’m the guy who came back to see why you didn’t keep the promise you made.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
“You said you’d marry me.”
“Matt, we was kids. Besides, you didn’t keep your side of the bargain.”
“Yes, I did. I never said anything to anybody about your mother. And I did everything I could to keep Daisy safe.”
Jesse walked in a circle around the fire, staring at the sky, and I remembered her barefoot days. She’d always felt more comfortable without shoes. She shook her head. “We was just kids.”
“A promise is a promise. That’s what you always said.”
She looked at the lights below and muttered, “Some promises cancel others.” Then she turned back to me and jutted her chin. “It was a youthful indiscretion. That’s what you would have called it. You and your fancy words.”
“You crossed your heart and hoped to die.”
“I’ve hoped to die a lot of times between then and now, big shot.”
I tossed the grass into the wind. “You told me once that people are the way they are and there’s no changing them. You don’t believe that about Earl.”
“I think people are the way they are unless God gets hold of their heart. What do you think of that?”
“So Earl is what you want? He’s going to make your dreams come true?”
“He’s a good man. He’s not like his daddy was.”
“We’re all like our daddies.”
“Even you?” she said, and the silence cut like a knife. Then she said, “And what about me? Am I like my daddy?”
I didn’t answer. My dream was still fresh. “You never told me what really happened that night.”
“There wasn’t nothing to tell.”
The pain on her face was palpable and I decided not to press. “Okay, here’s a question. After it happened, you cut me out. You ran away.”
“I didn’t run. We just grew apart.”
“No.”
“You got interested in drama and plays and—”
“I wrote you notes. I asked you out. You said no every time. Why?”
A big sigh. “I didn’t do it to hurt you. I appreciated what you tried to do. But sometimes people just—”
“You hated my guts. You blamed me for what happened, didn’t you? That’s the only thing I can think of to explain it.”
“Why in the world would I blame you?” she said.
“Because of what you promised your dad. Because of what you had to do.”
She shrank a little, understanding what I meant. “Matt, I never blamed you. It had nothing to do with you. And you need to move on. There’s got to be plent
y of girls who use big words up there in Chicago.”
I rubbed my forehead, thinking about Kristin. I shoved those feelings away and focused on Jesse. Maybe a story would soften her.
“I was at a party one night in college. The guys invited a girl . . . She must have been straight off the farm. They’d given her enough alcohol to kill a horse. And I got mad. They knew me as a mild-mannered drama guy, you know? But when I found her passed out, I went into a rage.”
“Matt Plumley to the rescue,” Jesse said.
“It was something you would’ve done. She probably never knew what happened. She probably went back to them. But she survived that night.”
She sat and put her hands together, elbows on her knees, looking at the ground.
“Jesse, I don’t know if anybody ever told you this, but you didn’t deserve any of the bad stuff that happened to you. You believe that, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I reckon.”
There was a long silence. Then I said, “I can move on. I just need to hear it from you.”
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye like my grandmother used to look at me at her kitchen table. “Matt, if you and I had gotten together, one of two things would have happened. Either you would’ve had to convince me to leave this place and follow you, which is something I couldn’t have done, or I would’ve had to convince you to stay here. And that would be like tying you up and making you fit into some box. My way of looking at it says neither one of those would have been right.”
“And why are you the one who gets to decide?”
She cocked her head. “I’ve had people decide things for me all my life. It’s part of the program. Get used to it.”
“What if I moved back here? What if I taught? Or became a counselor?”
“I got no doubt you’d be a good teacher. But this place can’t hold you. I knew that the first day.”
“What do you mean?”
“You was scared out of your mind when you came to my house. That horse with the bloody leg and old Carl barking. My mama yelling from the window. And then me coming out, in all my beauty.” She ran a hand through her hair and turned her head, making fun of herself. “Even though you looked like you were about to pee your pants, you cared more about that horse than you did your own fear. Right then I knew, This is somebody who won’t never be held back because he’s scared. That’s what probably made me trust you when I couldn’t trust nobody.”
I watched her face as she spoke, her eyes twinkling in the firelight. It felt like she was walking me back to our childhood, just taking my hand and leading me to what we had shared.
“I fought for this place. I fought to stay here and keep what little my family could hand down. Others couldn’t wait to leave, and I understand. But my roots are here.”
“So you’re saying there’s no part of you that held out some kind of hope for the two of us? Never?”
“Hope is strange, ain’t it? Hope in things that aren’t real will make you do things that don’t make sense. I try to stay away from that kind of hope as much as I can.”
“It’s easier to be afraid than to hope,” I said.
“I ain’t afraid.”
I let our words settle, then said, “You can’t control what I feel for you, Jesse. And I can’t control how often I think about you or the fact that I love you. See, I said it. I’ve always loved you. I probably always will.”
She laughed. “Matt, you don’t love me.”
“Don’t tell me that. You’re not omniscient.”
“There goes another big word.”
“You don’t know everything. You don’t know who I love and don’t love. Or what’s in my heart.”
She closed her eyes and pulled her head back. “What I mean is, you love who you think I am. You love who you think I can be.” She waved her fingers above her head. “You have this magical concept of what you remember. The best parts. You don’t know the real me.”
“The only reason I don’t know you is because you ran. And if that was because you couldn’t stand me, I wouldn’t be here. But there’s this sliver of maybe I’ve held on to. I think you felt the same way for me and I want to know if I’m right.”
She turned away and put a hand to her face. I let the crackle of the fire overtake us and listened for something, her voice, her heart. Finally she spoke.
“I come to every one of your plays in high school.”
“What?”
She nodded and her hair fell over her eyes. “I always sat in the back in the dark. Brought Daisy a couple of times. But I saw every one. I even come to that one where you had the weird clothes and talked funny.”
“A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“I was so proud. It was like, when you were getting applause, somehow I was part of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Couldn’t. You wouldn’t understand the reasons and they’re not important anymore.”
“Yes, they are. Talk to me, Jesse.”
She turned her back. I remembered the day I helped cut her hair. And the look of her bedroom. And her inner strength. And the love she had for her sister.
“Do you ever think of me, Jesse?”
She dipped her head. There was something breaking inside, and with Jesse you never knew where the breaking might lead.
“If you asked me right now to let you go, I would do it. If you asked me to let you marry Earl because this is who you love, this is the person you want to grow old with. Raise kids and sit on the porch in rocking chairs and drink sweet tea. I’ll walk down this hill and never bother you.”
“And why is that?”
“Because love wants what’s best. If being with me is not the best, I’ll be fine. I love you enough to let you go. But I need you to look at me and tell me that’s what you want.” I paused. “You can’t say that, can you?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Then turn around and—”
She turned quickly, her eyes filled with tears. “Let me go, Matt. Walk away. I love Earl. You got it?”
Her eyes betrayed her, tears running the length of both cheeks. She wore no makeup, no rouge smudged or eyeliner turned her face black. She was pure Jesse.
“I’m not buying the performance. If you meant it, there wouldn’t be all those tears.”
She gritted her teeth. “You said you would walk away if I told you that, and I just told you. I’m going to marry Earl.”
Her words stung because they sounded true. I wanted to protest, to push back again, but there was something in her voice that made me believe her.
I moved past her, my back to her. “If you don’t want me to turn around, you stay quiet. Don’t say anything.”
She didn’t make a sound and I swallowed hard, looking into the darkness.
I took a few steps from the campfire, engulfed in darkness now. There was a fluttering of wings above and I scampered back up the hill.
“I thought you were going to walk away and not turn around.”
“I heard something,” I said, my heart beating wildly.
“Probably a crow. I swear, for somebody who wasn’t afraid to come to my house or run to the Blackwoods, you sure are a scaredy-cat.”
I caught my breath. “I never told you. That night. When I was at your house looking for you. Coming home through the woods, I saw him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure you did.”
“I’m serious. I didn’t tell anybody, mainly because of what happened.”
She ignored my revelation. “Matt, have you ever considered that maybe you didn’t come back here to rescue me at all? Have you ever thought of that?”
Her words echoed something Mr. Lambert had said. But a noise below interrupted my thoughts. Lights flashed through the tops of the trees and Jesse stood and put a hand on my shoulder.
“You need to leave.” Her voice got hard. “You need to run.”
OCTOBER 1972
Reds fans were giddy at school the next day. T
hose who knew I rooted for the Pirates rubbed it in. I couldn’t blame them.
I looked for the bus that brought Jesse’s cousins and watched it spill kids from their hollow, but Jesse wasn’t among them. Later, I found Elden Branch at the food truck that came to school at lunch.
“Did Jesse and Daisy come to your house last night?”
He glanced my general direction as he shoved a pack of gum in his back pocket. “What’s it to you?”
His teeth were short and green and I thought the stolen gum probably wouldn’t help his oral hygiene. But I decided not to be his conscience.
“The sheriff was at my house last night. I just want to make sure they’re okay.”
“They’re all right. Jesse didn’t like being drug to our house, but she’s got no say in it now that her mama’s dead. You hear she buried her in their backyard? And was cashing her checks? You’d expect that from a Woods.”
“Is she coming to school?”
Elden glanced at the guy taking money and shoved a Zero bar in another pocket. “She put up a fuss this morning. Lots of yelling and squalling and saying she wouldn’t leave her sister. I reckon she’ll come back to school directly.”
“Tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Why are you so all-fired interested? You sweet on her?” He cursed and laughed. “That’s all she needs. Lead a preacher boy astray.”
Later, I saw Dickie in the hallway. I was desperate for information, no matter the source. When he saw me, he turned and I ran after him. I gave him our usual greeting but he said nothing about a breakthrough.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me, and I understand. But this is about Jesse.”
“I heard what happened. You knew all along about her mama.”
“Jesse didn’t want anybody to know. I’m sorry for keeping it a secret. I’m sorry for everything.”
Dickie shook his head and walked away.
The next day I watched the bus again and saw Jesse get off after her cousins went inside. As she exited, she turned away from the school and walked through the teacher parking lot, by the F-86 Sabre display, and back toward town along the main road.
“Jesse, wait up!” I called and ran across the street. A car’s brakes squealed and I was nearly roadkill. The driver waved me across, shaking his head.