Ghost on Black Mountain (11 page)

“Nellie knows I’ll take her anywhere she needs to go.”

“Good then, I plan to see you.” She looked at me.

Jack took my elbow. “Come, Sister-in-law. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Lydia Dobbins frowned. “I do hope to see you, Mrs. Pritchard. It will go a long way in the eyes of the mountain. You know, clearing your name from your husband’s actions.”

Jack pulled me away. Lydia watched me. She was one of those society women who thought they were better than others. She must have been going crazy on Black Mountain. She was a rose in the middle of a bunch of wildflowers. Too bad I loved wildflowers.

February 8, 1939

Okay God, I’m going to this ladies’ meeting. I’m going to prove once and for all I’m not like the husband I married. But when I look in these people’s faces, I see I’m guilty. I won’t never be nothing but bad to them. A good girl would never have married Hobbs Pritchard, and if she did make that terrible mistake, she
would have owned up to it and gone home. But it ain’t that simple. I’ve got myself in a mess here and don’t know what way to turn. If I leave, then I’m letting You down. Wives don’t leave their husbands even if they are mean. If I stay, all of Hobbs’s wrongs will be mine till death parts us.

The weather still held on Wednesday. I took out walking through the woods to the pastor’s house. Everyone, even someone new like me, could find the Dobbins place. It was by far one of the biggest and fanciest houses I’d seen. It even had a little tower like a castle. I was praying the weather would hold so I could start on my garden in the afternoon. I would need the exercise to get this stupid meeting off my mind.

Merlin Hocket stood in the curve of the path. Up close he looked downright pitiful. “What do you want from me?” I managed to ask.

The knees of his fancy britches were dirty and one side of his spectacles was cracked like he’d been fighting. He held his cap in his hand and stared straight at me. He looked as real as any person I would see that day. Ghosts were supposed to look scary.

“This mountain plays tricks on people, turns them around, sends them in all the wrong directions. Be careful. You may think it’s on your side but it will betray you. Follow your heart. Don’t be afraid.” His voice sounded hoarse.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “You don’t look like no ghost. Did Hobbs hurt you? Is that why you stay on his land?”

A mean look passed over his face and he walked off into the woods.

“Did Hobbs kill you like they say?” I called after him into the emptiness.

I was still sorting things out when I reached the pastor’s house. Shelly answered the door. She looked at me like she might jump out of her skin. “Are you here for the ladies’ meeting?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head and motioned for me to follow her. She wore a starched white apron over a black dress. Was this Shelly’s life?

The women were gathered in a fancy room. The windows were covered in lace and the sofa and chairs were made of blue velvet. Lydia motioned Shelly to come pour tea from a silver teapot into tiny china cups. The other women, dressed in worn skirts and blouses, looked as uncomfortable and out of place as I felt. I had made a mistake.

Lydia smiled at me. “Oh, look here. Mrs. Pritchard has joined us.” Her smile was real, and I understood me and her were the ones who didn’t fit in.

I fiddled with a loose thread on my brown A-line skirt. The button was about to fall off. The room remained quiet. I smiled at the women. Mrs. Connor wasn’t among the group, thank goodness. Maybe she had become a backslider like me. The women watched. Their faces told me what a fool I was for marrying Hobbs.

“How’s your husband, Mrs. Pritchard?” This came from a pretty, young woman; meanness laced her words.

“He’s fine.” I spoke as if I had seen him that morning.

One of the women huffed.

“I just bet he is, sweetie. He’s always managed for himself. I know.” The pretty woman gave me a knowing look that turned my stomach.

An older woman patted my arm. “Hobbs has always been Hobbs. It’s his nature. Don’t pay her no mind. You can’t help who he is.”

I could have hugged her.

All the women stared as if I was supposed to speak to this.

A sick pressure worked in my ribs. Hobbs was bad, but I didn’t want to talk about him with those women. “Hobbs works a lot.”

“Well of course he does. He took on this mountain like a hunter goes after his supper, like falling a squirrel or gutting a deer.” This came from the pretty woman.

“Hush now, Darlene.” The older woman spoke.

“He took anything worth a darn and left the rest for the vultures to pick over, Mama Park,” Darlene sneered.

“Yes he did,” spoke a few women at once.

Women when slapped together in the same room could be the meanest of all God’s creatures, especially to their own kind. “Does anyone know anything about Merlin Hocket? I saw him on the way here.” I allowed these words to settle in their minds. “He talked some kind of nonsense. He looked real to me. I’m not sure he is a ghost.”

Shelly rattled the delicate cup as she poured tea.

Mama Park grabbed her chest and took a step back. “Lord have mercy on you, child. You best be careful. Everyone here knows what really happened to Merlin, and he’s a bad omen, nothing but bad. He was found in a creek dead two months after he came up missing. See, it’s because we kept quiet about the truth that he walks this mountain. He punishes us for not speaking up.” Mama Park frowned.

All the women in the room muttered their agreement and this spurred Mama Park on.

“One thing I do know is folks that see him always come to some kind of doom.” That word echoed through me. All the women had given me plenty of space. Shelly handed me a cup of tea that sloshed onto the saucer. Lydia came over from seeing to the little sandwiches. She was frowning at me. My
being there wasn’t helping the meeting like she thought. That was plain in how she tapped her toe.

“Most ghosts look like me and you. You can bet he’s a spirit.” Mama Park shook off a chill.

“Ghosts do not exist. We know that, ladies.” Lydia gave me a “shut up” look. “Can we please change the subject to more ladylike things?” This time she openly glared at me.

The women began to talk about a quilt they were working on. Darlene recited her recipe for pound cake. I slid out the front door. Shelly met me in the yard just out of sight of the house.

“You got to leave this mountain, Nellie. That’s what the woman ghost says. She’s right upset and nearly driving me crazy. Get on out of here before it’s too late. I won’t have no part of the bad that is surrounding you. You can fix it but you got to leave right now.” Shelly touched my arm and then walked away. I was left there with my mouth hanging open.

Seventeen

I
took myself straight to Aunt Ida’s. Maybe Mama was right all along. Maybe there was death—mine. Jack was unloading wood from the back of his truck. He stopped and took off his hat.

“Howdy, Miss Nellie.”

I tried to smile. “I need to ask a favor.”

His face grew serious and little lines appeared near his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to go see my mama.” Women couldn’t just leave their husbands, so I had to sort of lie.

He nodded. “You want to go tomorrow?”

My chest felt lighter. “Yes, if you don’t mind, first thing in the morning.”

Jack took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to be out of line, but be careful. Hobbs ain’t going to take to you leaving the mountain, and everyone up here is watching.”

“They don’t like him. They won’t tell.”

“Not unless they’re pushed to pay money they don’t have.”
He looked over the valley. “Folks might do anything if they’re desperate.”

“I’m going to see Mama. It’s been too long.”

“I’ll be there first thing.” He tried to smile.

“It’s just for a visit. I ain’t going to give Hobbs no reason to know.”

“I know.” But I could tell he thought otherwise. It seemed he knew more about me than I knew.

I scrubbed the toe of my shoe in the dirt.

“Your visit to the ladies’ meeting didn’t go so well?”

“Nothing was said that I hadn’t figured on.” I shrugged.

“Okay.” He slapped his hand on his thigh.

“Thanks.”

He jumped off the back of the truck. “I’ll take you home.”

I climbed into the seat. This time tomorrow I’d be with Mama. Who cared what happened. Mama was wrong; I was coming home. I would dodge the death she predicted. And silly old Shelly could eat her words.

When Jack passed the drive to Hobbs’s house, I looked over at him.

“There’s one place you need to see before you go back to Asheville.” The truck climbed and climbed its way up that mountain until I thought we’d fall backwards. Then Jack pulled over and switched off the engine. “We got to walk the rest of the way. It’s kind of tough.” He looked at my skirt.

“I can do it.”

We took a rough trail, littered with big tree roots, clinging on for dear life. The beautiful straight evergreens were so tall it made me dizzy to look up at them.

We rounded a curve and there we were, looking off a sheer drop, water rushing over rocks and then disappearing. We were at the top of a waterfall. A large gray boulder perched on the edge of the world in the middle of the river.

“This is heaven,” I shouted above the rushing water.

Jack grinned. The view was like nothing I’d ever seen. It was one of those rare clear days, and I could look off that mountain into the valley. On top of the waterfall, the world was mine, Nellie Pritchard’s. A hawk glided overhead, its wings in a wide span. The air was clean, stinging my chest as I took big breaths. Mama said that a hawk could fly higher than all the birds except eagles and avoided fights by leaving enemies behind. I watched this hawk, and the world turned under my feet. When had Hobbs become my enemy?

When Jack dropped me off, it was with the promise he would be at the house early. I made Mama her favorite chocolate cake as a treat, as a welcome home for me. Then I stretched out on the sofa. I was way too excited to drop off to sleep. Thoughts rolled through my head one after another. Should I take all my clothes? Would Jack try to come back to get me that evening? I hadn’t thought of that. Well, I would tell him I was spending the night. Mama would keep me safe. I closed my eyes and saw the hawk floating on the air.

The next morning I wrapped the cake in a towel. I wore my wedding dress. I’d replaced all those silly pearl buttons with practical ones. Jack came early just like he promised and waited by the truck. I opened the door, took one step out, and heard a familiar rattle working its way up the drive. I sat the cake back on the table and took a step back outside as if I were in a dream. Jack’s expression turned dark as the noise grew louder, like a funnel cloud barreling in from the west.

Hobbs’s truck came rolling into the yard. He was all smiles like he’d only been gone for a few days. My mind went blank. There I stood, nothing but his scared wife, no more than a object like the house or the barn. He jumped from the cab of the truck and crossed the space between us, catching me up in his arms, planting a big kiss on my lips. I couldn’t say a word,
not a single word. I looked over at Jack, wishing he’d help me. Couldn’t he see I needed him? I needed to go see my mama. I needed to be off of Black Mountain. His expression spoke to me like words coming out of his mouth. I wasn’t going nowhere. I was Hobbs’s wife and he owned me.

“Good to see you made it home safe.” Jack’s words held none of the anger and disappointment I felt.

Hobbs let me go. “Thank you and Aunt Ida for looking after my girl.”

Jack opened the door to his truck and gave one long look at Hobbs. For a second I was sure he would say all the things that should’ve been said. “That’s what we do best, Hobbs, look after what you leave undone. Some things never change.”

“You’re right about that. Some things never change.” Hobbs laughed clear and free of anger.

I was something left behind, something undone. I never thought my happily ever after would be so sad.

Jack went down the drive at a fast clip.

“Don’t you dare cry. I’m home now.”

My breath left my chest. We went into the kitchen.

He took the towel off the cake. “Chocolate, my favorite.” He dug one finger down the middle of the frosting, scarring the perfect smoothness.

Eighteen