Ghost on Black Mountain (12 page)

February 15, 1939

Hobbs has been Hobbs since he came home. He skipped right over Valentine’s Day and I didn’t bother to remind him. Why? My heart’s not in this mess. You see, God, I can’t figure why You didn’t help me get to Mama’s. You know Hobbs is bad. He’s drinking every single night. The morning he came home he stunk of roses. I couldn’t help but think of that girl in the door of the church. Why did he marry me?

At least the weather is still warm and I’m starting my garden. This will help my soul. I thought of walking off the mountain, but that chance was right in front of me and I stayed put. If I stood up to Hobbs, he’d only chase me down and hurt Mama too. Just look where I’ve come in this marriage of mine.

I put my diary beside the ruby necklace. Each day I opened the pouch and let the stones catch the sun, sparkling. The lock of gray hair gave me the creeps but somehow it seemed right to
keep it with the necklace. The drawer squeaked as I pushed it shut. The shadow formed black and oily, the perfect outline of a man.

“He’ll do to you what he did to me and to her.” The voice took up the empty space in the dining room.

“What did Hobbs do?”

A bitter laugh echoed in the room. “You know what he did. You’re a smart girl.”

The shadow looked darker.

“You know what to do, Nellie.” And then Merlin was gone.

I laughed like a crazy woman.

My garden plot was rocky and hard to turn with a hoe. I worked the dirt, warmed by the sun, with my whole body and mind. The movement kept the images of home from creeping into my thoughts like some sweet dream that I’d have to wake up from. Each time my hoe hit a clod of dirt, I became part of the land, the air, and the mountain itself. I was lost to the heart that drove me to marry. The woods were silent and alive. That’s what I loved about gardening, seedlings sprouting through the dirt, a promise that all things can grow. Hobbs wasn’t capable of loving me. With this thought, I turned into a woman. The price of two simple words—“I will”—was too high. The dark rich earth yielded to the hoe. The sun sank into the tops of the trees, and a chill spread through me. I scooped up a fistful of dirt. Love was not simple. Love wasn’t something I could count on to save me. Love was a story in a book that would never be written by me. I stood there until I could barely see my hand in front of my face.

I must have dozed off in the rocker in front of the fireplace. The whole room turned icy cold, even though I could hear the wood
popping. When I opened my eyes, there stood Jack’s mama in front of me. She looked tired. Her hair was the same steel gray.

“I see why Jack’s taken a liking to you. That ain’t going to do him no good or you. He never has been good at seeing things for what they are. You’re in a mess and it’s partly your own fault. You know how bad Hobbs is. You got to leave. I got that little girl to tell you, but you acted like I wasn’t real. You got to leave now! You understand?”

“Did he hurt you?”

“What’s that matter to you? He’s going to do to you what he did to me. You got to go or face what comes. Either way you will suffer.” She reached out and touched my arm. Her touch was like a cool breeze in the spring. “He’s going to be here soon. Go and don’t let him find you.” She dissolved.

My head burned and my joints ached like I had a fever. I was filled with this urge to run out into the dark and never come back. Fog had moved in around the house. The grayish white was thicker than I’d ever seen it. The nighttime would swallow me. I sat back in the rocker. I would leave as soon as it turned light outside.

Nineteen

H
obbs came home that night, pawing me, waking me from a dream of the ocean, where I was going under. He tore my nightgown open. I couldn’t get my breath.

“Stop!” I pushed my fists into his chest.

The back of his hand crashed across my mouth. “You’re my wife. I own you, girl. I can do what I want when I want.” He wrapped my long braid around his fist and pulled me to my feet. “You don’t mouth me!”

The smell of whiskey gagged me. “Hobbs, please.” And in that moment, before my life took a turn I could never straighten out, I saw the true Hobbs reflected in his blue eyes, the man all his women eventually saw.

He punched my head with his other fist. “Shut the hell up!” Then he shoved me onto the floor on his mama’s little braided rug. He didn’t even bother to take his pants off. I prayed God would kill him, but God wasn’t listening, cause Hobbs kept on pumping me with his meanness. My heart turned black and dead. I guess one could say I was dying, but I clung to the world like beggar lice on cloth.

When he finished his deed, he rolled over, grew still, and began to snore. Finally I had the strength to ease away and make my way out of the house, into the cool mist, where I lost everything in my stomach on the ground.

Daylight seemed like it would never come as I sat in the kitchen waiting. I would tell Hobbs it was over, that he had to take me to Mama’s and leave me alone. I would tell Aunt Ida what he had done. Even Hobbs didn’t want to be known as a wife beater.

“Silly notion, you know. You can’t reason with him. He’s not like you or me. Running won’t do. You got to take a stand.” Merlin Hocket looked fuzzy, like I was looking through a piece of cheesecloth.

“How?” I whispered. The sun was streaming in the kitchen window. The fog had burned away.

“You’ll know. It’ll come to you.” And he was gone. He spoke more sense than anything I had thought up.

Now a smart girl would have walked down that road and found some help, but Hobbs would chase me until he caught me. He would always win. Anyway, I wasn’t the leaving type. I walked out to the garden plot. Jack could sow some seeds for me on Good Friday. Mama always said to plant on that day for a plentiful crop.

“What’re you doing out there?” Hobbs stood in the door with no shirt, his pants unbuttoned.

I bent down and picked up a clod of soil, crushing it in my fingers, sprinkling it on the ground.

“Talk to me! You tore up the yard! Nobody told you you could do that!” His look was wild. “You ain’t got no business doing nothing I don’t want you to. You ain’t nothing but dirt. Hell, the dirt is worth more. You’re supposed to make me a son!”

If I had wings, I’d fly right out into the valley below. “No.”

“What’d you say?”

“I’m not going to do anything for you.” All the hate must have shown in my face.

He covered the distance between us in a trot, grabbing my shoulders, shoving me to the ground. I tried fighting him, but he was crazier than me. The soil tasted bitter and unyielding. My mind closed and the world went black as he beat me.

When I woke, I was there in the dirt, my dress hiked up over my hips, blood and freshly turned soil mixed in my mouth. The sky was blue. The air was still. God had left me. I struggled to my feet. I thought of going to Mrs. Connor, but I was afraid his fury would be turned on her, so I went to find Jack.

Aunt Ida was washing clothes on her washboard by the river. I saw my face in her look. “Lord God, what happened to you, child?” She dropped one of Jack’s shirts on the muddy riverbank.

“Hobbs,” I whispered.

She stood. “What did you do?”

“Where’s Jack?” I looked her straight in her eyes.

“No need to get him killed, girl. Is that what you want?”

My thoughts were tangled.

“This is just part of life. Husbands do what they want. You think you can just leave? Didn’t your mama teach you anything?” Her hand trembled.

“He can’t do this. He don’t own me.” My words were a whisper floating on the slight breeze.

“You’re Hobbs’s wife. You’ll only cause trouble if you go to your mama. She’ll pay for your wrongs. You’d better take yourself home and please him. Keep him happy, Nellie. That’s my best answer. Learn how to be the wife he needs. That’s what women do.”

I turned to leave. A dull thought knocked in my head. “I’ll never learn.”

“What did you say?” Aunt Ida made a couple of steps behind me. “Let me take care of those cuts and bruises.”

I kept walking. “No.”

“Don’t cause no more trouble. You’ll end up worse. He’s probably left for a while. Fix him a nice supper, make yourself pretty. Surprise him.”

I laughed at the blue sky and kept walking, a dip and stumble to each step as if I was going to fall on my face. Aunt Ida kept talking, but the roar in my head drowned her out.

The woods weren’t thick yet. It would be weeks before the leaves budded. The path was marked, worn, used. Merlin Hocket stood up the trail. I had halfway hoped I’d come on him. I wanted to turn into him.

“Sometimes you think you know the right way, but you do not. No one can blame you. It takes courage to follow the path that will truly free you, Nellie. You know what to do. You’ve known all along.” He stepped close, and his breath tickled my cheek. Then he was gone.

All that chopping wood gave me muscles that were tight and hard. Hobbs wasn’t figuring on that. I’d left some marks on him, but he was stronger. I chopped some extra wood. The ax split the logs. My aim was perfect. I toted the wood inside and stacked it next to the fireplace. I leaned the ax right beside it. Then I heated water and soaked in my lavender oil. My wounds opened. When I was through, I put on my wedding dress. My hair hung down my back. For a flicker, I saw the soft look Jack gave me now and then, but it only brought hate into my heart. Men were men whether they were soft or mean. Their needs came first.

The flames in the fireplace leapt up the chimney, warming the room too much. I waited in the rocker. Hobbs hadn’t gone far. The smell of fresh blood would bring him back. A hawk cried out. I drifted off into the sleep of the dead.

Hobbs bent over the rocker, a hand on each wooden arm,
trapping me like a rabbit in a box. “Look at you. I guess a good beating now and then is just the thing. Makes you realize how lucky you are to have me. It makes you see what you got, don’t it, girl? I am the boss. You want to know why I married you, Nellie? Because you favor Mama and AzLeigh so much. They always knew how to take care of me. You fit in just fine with this house. But girl, we ain’t nothing alike.”

I became a ghost, and everybody knows ghosts don’t have anything to lose.

“What you smiling at?” His breath could have made me drunk; maybe it did.

“I’ll show you if you let me have some room.”

He grinned and straightened. “Now don’t you try something funny, or I’ll beat you again. I may have to beat you once a week for good measure.”

I dropped the dress off my shoulders and let it slide to the floor. The bruises—purple, dark—and cuts didn’t faze him. He grabbed me with hard, rough hands.

“Slow down. I want to show you what I can do, Hobbs. Nice and slow like.” I guided him to the floor on the rug his mama had hooked. I knelt beside him and left my regrets in the shadows. The person who mounted Hobbs turned the wind into the hot breath of the devil. I embraced the heat and hammered him into submission. When he tried to speak, I placed my finger to his lips.

After he fell into a deep drunken sleep, I untangled my body from his. In that moment, I could have walked away. The ax weighed heavy in my hands. I slung it over my head. The room spun and thunder rumbled in the distance, shaking the floor of the house. The fog would come rolling in soon. I splintered my prison, spilling my sin all over his mama’s little rug, and I deeply regretted that.

The fog moved in at dawn, rolling into the open windows,
giving me the feeling that I was living in a dream. I worked with efficient strength as the sun burned through. I fed the flames, leaping in the fireplace, until I finished. The flames of hell burned for hours, and then they died down to embers and became hot ashes, littered with a bright hot glow here and there. When they were cool enough, I sprinkled them over my garden plot, turning dirt as the moon rode the horizon. I would plant the seeds in neat rows. I would tend the garden, and then I would be free to leave.

His head was all that remained. Even fear, hate, and revenge couldn’t bring me to destroy his face. I pushed the head through a hole in the hollow tree on the edge of the woods. The moon slid into the tree line as I climbed the stairs to the bedroom. I slept as if I were a child in Mama’s bed.

Later that morning, I cleaned the cabin until the tips of my fingers peeled and cracked open, but still the rancid smell remained. I couldn’t scrub my sin away no matter how hard I tried. So I chose a big rug from the bedroom upstairs, dragging it in front of the fireplace. No matter how right my actions were, I was wrong. In my deed, I destroyed my life on that mountain, but at the same time, I became part of its soul. The mountain owned me and always would. It used me to take away the evil that haunted its people. Nellie died with Hobbs. Who was worse, me or him?

February 17, 1939

How long can I live with this deed? Where can I go from here? God, I know You don’t want to hear from me, but Hobbs beat me. You let him. He would have killed me. Freedom isn’t freedom aft er all. God, I’m not sorry. And that’s my sin. You don’t want to listen to me. I don’t blame You. I will live and walk this earth knowing that anyone can do bad things. I keep studying that old hollow tree. I loved him. Once upon a time Nellie loved Hobbs Pritchard.