Ghost on Black Mountain (10 page)

The door creaked like a ghost story. Cobwebs hung in fluffy velvet clusters. It was warmer than I thought it would be up there, probably because of the sun beating on the tin roof. Piles of stuff filled the space, but I figured I’d start at the back this time and give that necklace and hair all the room they needed. I made my way to a tiny window in the corner. The trunk was older than me. I brushed off layers of dust and found the initials “AP.” The latch wasn’t made for keeping people out. Inside were books with flowers pressed between brittle pages, filled with old photographs of a woman who looked like Hobbs’s mama when she was young. In one she wore a fancy dress with a big floppy hat. My favorite was the one where she held a small boy. I enjoyed seeing Hobbs’s expression lit up in a smile. I opened one of the small books with lined paper—there were several—and found a willowy handwriting.

May 3, 1913

I gave birth to my first child today. We will name him Hobbs. Henry James thinks I’ve lost my mind, but he’s supposed to be Hobbs. I dreamed the name two weeks ago. Who am I to argue with a dream of this nature? I’ve counted all his fingers and toes. He’s perfect in every way.

I flipped through the book, reading about never getting sleep. Hobbs was of a colicky nature. I opened another of her diaries.

December 25, 1923

I don’t understand a thing about my husband. He refuses to allow Mother to send Christmas gifts for the children. I know he has every right not to care for her, but she is my mother. I love her. I hate his pride. I hate this mountain. I wish I had the courage to take Hobbs and AzLeigh home, but what kind of life would they lead in Asheville? They could never be the social birds Mother would insist upon. They are my life.

So my mother-in-law was kept from her mother. I turned to the last page of the next book.

August 14, 1930

Today I go to Mother’s for a tea. Finally I am allowed to leave this mountain. So it’s terrible that I will be attending this hateful affair. Mother’s teas remind me of what could have been. But I’m visiting Mother, and AzLeigh is coming. Yesterday I had a frightful encounter. I was out walking when I ran into a man along the path in the woods. He was one of the government men here to collect tax information. He told me that he found a moonshine still on our property and would have to let the proper authorities know. I explained to him that we didn’t make moonshine, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was so intent on serving justice. His name was Merlin Hocket. The insistent fool wore his three-piece suit and driving hat while trekking around the woods. I didn’t bother telling Henry James. He would only become angry. The whole mountain is in an uproar over the tax people. I do worry Hobbs has something to do with the still. He’s getting way too big for his britches.

So there was the story written in my mother-in-law’s own hand.

“You can’t run far enough to outrun Hobbs.”
The man’s voice was as clear as it could be. I looked around but no one was there. Now I had a name. Merlin Hocket was the man I saw in the woods and who knocked on my door. A ghost. I held the book up to the light. A newspaper clipping fluttered down into my lap.

AzLeigh Renee Pritchard Dead from Fall.
The paper was dated August 15, 1930. My gosh, she had died the next day after her writing.

“When the time is right, you’ll know what to do.”
This time the voice sat right next to my ear and I jumped.

“Why are you bothering me?”

The silence was thick. I looked at the clipping.

“What are you doing up here?”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. “You done stopped my heart, Jack Allen. I thought you was some spirit come to get me.” My laugh sounded tight.

“Sorry.”

“This weather is making me crazy, so I came up here to look around.” I put the book back in the trunk.

“Find anything?”

For a minute I thought of telling him about the diaries, about the necklace and the hair, but it seemed wrong. “Naw, just a bunch of old clothes and a few old photos. I can’t believe how they dressed.”

He watched me a minute too long. “Come on down before it gets dark. I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

“You did. Myself. Who else do I have to talk to?”

The sun was sinking into the trees. My bones ached with cold. Still I thought about Merlin Hocket. What did he want from me?

“Have you eaten today?”

“Not yet.” All of a sudden I was starving. “But I’m hungry now. I’m going to cook me some eggs and biscuits.”

“Sounds pretty good.”

“You can stay if you want.”

“I might just do that.”

“How did Hobbs’s mama die?”

Jack turned to lead the way out. “How come we’re always talking about Hobbs and his family?” But I could tell from the sound of his voice he was smiling.

“Nothing else to talk about. So, why don’t we talk about you. What made you stay on the mountain after your mama died?”

“Nowhere to go, and Mrs. Pritchard died from a fall that gave her a nasty blow to the head.”

“All this time I’ve been thinking she got sick.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Nellie.”

We were quiet as we walked down to the kitchen.

He sat at the table while I cooked the eggs. Somewhere close by we heard the cry of a hawk. Mama always said hawks were good luck. They represented strength, and the good Lord knew I had to have some to get through this winter alone.

“I’m going to have me a big garden out in the front. You know, where the view of the valley is so good.”

“You like to garden?” He smiled.

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about liking it, but the wet dirt after a good spring rain is the best smell ever. The little seedlings popping up overnight always make me feel like a little girl again. I like the flowers more than the work.” We were quiet for a few minutes.

He watched me put a platter of eggs on the table. “It sounds like you had a good life in Asheville.”

“Yes.”

We ate eggs, biscuits, and ham together, laughing over old stories he told about living on the mountain.

“Me and AzLeigh got in the worst trouble for hiding that skunk in the barn.” There were tears in our eyes. “The poor thing was hurt. AzLeigh convinced me he wouldn’t spray the ones who helped him. Well, she was wrong about that.”

I nearly choked on my eggs. “Stop. You have to stop.” I held up a hand, giving in to the giggles that sprayed crumbs everywhere.

“Hobbs threatened to beat me up because his horse stunk to high heaven too. But he couldn’t stand the smell of me, so I lived another day.” Jack wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. “Me and AzLeigh had to work out in the fields with Henry James for a week. Now, that wasn’t no big deal for me because I worked with him all the time. But AzLeigh whined until her daddy sent her home to Ma.” He shook his head.

“That doesn’t sound fair.”

Jack shrugged. “Truth was, I liked working out there in the sun with Henry James. His stories were worth listening to. He always said I’d end up with the farm.” A shadow passed over his face. “But I shouldn’t have listened to him. I would never be as important as his own flesh and blood. Hobbs got the farm.”

A headache worked at the back of my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I got to be going, Mrs. Pritchard.” He winked and gave me a nod.

It wasn’t hard for me to see how hurt he must have been. Hobbs had taken the one thing that mattered and never really wanted it. He hated farming. I gave Jack a quick hug at the door and tried not to notice how he stiffened, or how I breathed in deep to catch his smell. All of this was foolishness on my part. Jack wouldn’t see me as anything but his sister-in-law. He was good to a fault and only a good woman would catch him
one day. That was too bad for me. I had to settle on making him my friend.

After he was gone, I went up to the attic. I got me two of them empty diaries that belonged to my mother-in-law. Then I grabbed the wooden box with the necklace and hair. I settled on the sofa in the front room.

January 23, 1939

I’m going to write my thoughts like Hobbs’s mama. Not that they matt er nearly as much as hers, but it might help me sort this confused feeling. Hobbs has been gone since right aft er Christmas and I ain’t missing him. I don’t expect him back for a while. Actually I pray he don’t come back at all. Maybe someone will kill him. That’s a horrible thought for a girl who claims to be a Christian. But I got my own bunch of questions for God. Like, why in the world would He let me marry someone like Hobbs Pritchard? If He were real like Mama always said, why would He let Hobbs hurt the people he hurt? Does Hobbs get another set of rules? And what about ghosts? Where do they come from and why aren’t their souls in heaven? Mama says there’s no such thing, but she’s wrong. Sometimes I can feel someone watching me, waiting. And I heard the voice today. Maybe I’m just going crazy. What would I do if I were a man? Cause men can do anything they want. I’d walk right off this mountain and never look back. That’s all. That simple. If Hobbs tried to stop me, I’d put him in his place. Where is his place? One of these days I’m going to get the nerve to leave. Until then, I’m going to do more than make do. I’m going to live.

The next morning I put the book and the box in a drawer in the sideboard of the dining room, under some table linens. Hobbs would never look there. A thrill that only a secret can give rushed through me. Jack’s mama wouldn’t mind me keeping her necklace safe and hidden for a while.

Sixteen

February 5, 1939

We got a good thaw. Thank you Lord. I intend to walk to church. Maybe this week I can start turning the ground over for my garden. I’ve done some thinking on my questions to God. First, I can’t blame Him for all my mistakes. Mama says He gave us free will. But I ain’t letting Him off the hook on the free will thing. It ain’t right to create humans and then just let them go like a couple of fighting cocks in a chicken pen. We’re bound to scratch our way out one way or another. Hobbs is a fighting cock if ever I seen one. He’ll spur you in a minute. I may be a girl but it don’t mean I can’t fight. I’m going to make me a place right here on this mountain. Folks around here have to like me. I’m just as plain as them. I’m going to see my mama too. Maybe I can find the courage to ask Jack to take me. But who am I kidding? That’s just a fairy story. If Hobbs finds out, he’ll hurt Mama. I can’t let that happen.

I chose one of my better dresses, a yellow one with light-pink trim, and then tamed my thick curls into a long braid. I
set out walking to church. It was so warm I thought spring had come to stay. No one at church acted surprised to see me, even though I hadn’t been since Christmas Eve. At home going to church was like a law that wasn’t written down in the Good Book. I took me a seat in the back. Jack was sitting in his regular pew a few rows up. I let him be. The music was perfect for all that was ailing my soul. There ain’t nothing like being alone day after day to get a girl to inspecting her life from the inside out. For one thing, I was a terrible judge of character. For another, I believed anything some sweet-talking fellow told me.

The good pastor stood in the pulpit with wild eyes. He was rumpled and looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He yelled and screamed so I couldn’t understand what direction he was headed, but the congregation seemed to move with his flow, rocking back and forth in their seats.

When church was over, I scooted out the doors, hoping to leave without too much notice. The pastor grabbed my hand. “It’s so nice to have you here with us, Mrs. Pritchard. I haven’t been able to catch you on your previous visits.”

“Thank you.”

“You must see my wife, Lydia. She has a ladies’ group, and I know she’s wanted you to join for some time now.” He looked me up and down. “All our fine ladies belong.” He pulled his wife to his side, interrupting her talk with one of the women. “Lydia, this is Mrs. Pritchard. We’re so happy to have her here. I told her she needed to visit your ladies’ group. Its main purpose is to bring women closer to God. As we know from the Bible, this has always been a weakness for females. They wander away so easily.”

I stared at him. Did he say that to me?

Lydia plastered a smile on her face and stepped in front of the pastor. “Why, Mrs. Pritchard, we would love to have you in
our little group. Ignore the pastor and his thoughts on women. They are from the last century.”

The pastor had moved on to talk with others in his flock.

“We meet this coming Wednesday at my house. The topic will be ‘How to Make My Home More Prayerful.’ We have a wonderful fellowship together.” She took my hand in her icy fingers.

When I looked into her eyes, I saw her mocking me. “I’m very busy.” How stupid was that? They all knew I was alone with not one thing to do.

“Oh, I know you are, but us proper ladies must show the others the way.” She cocked her eyebrow at me. “Maybe your wonderful, handsome brother-in-law would be so kind to bring you.” She smiled at Jack, who had come to stand at my left.