Ghost on Black Mountain (5 page)

Them boys stopped their chopping and watched me pick my way across the yard, balancing overloaded plates of eggs and bacon. Didn’t their mama teach them any manners? “I have some breakfast for you.”

Both looked at me like I was some kind of ghost.

“I have plenty of milk too, but my hands are so full I couldn’t tote it.” They stood there like a couple of dummies.

The oldest boy took off his hat. “I’m Maynard Connor, ma’am, and this here is my brother without a stitch of manners, Oshie.” He grabbed the cap off of Oshie’s head and slapped it at him. “I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but we can’t eat your food.”

“I’m a good cook. Don’t you believe a thing my husband says. He likes to joke. You have to get used to his ways.”

Oshie gave me a disgusted look. “We know all about Hobbs Pritchard’s ways, ma’am.”

“My name is Nellie. I come from Asheville.”

Maynard nodded. “We know, but you need to get back in that house with your food before Hobbs catches you.”

“That’s no way to act.” The words popped out of my mouth. “He don’t care if you eat his food.”

Oshie laughed mean-like. “He’d rather feed that food to some old hogs than give it to us.”

Maynard nodded and spoke gentle as if my mind was
unhinged. “We’re beholding to the thought, ma’am, but it’s best you go on back in that house and not talk to us no more.”

“Yeah, if you don’t care nothing about yourself, at least think of us. Hobbs would kill us dead for talking to you.” Oshie looked at me like I had some kind of disease.

I opened my mouth to argue with them about how Hobbs wasn’t and couldn’t be like they said, but I saw in them boys a truth that couldn’t be denied. I nodded and turned, but something stopped me dead in my tracks, and I whipped back around.

“I ain’t like that. My mama taught me manners and how to treat folks when they offered me good Christian thoughts.”

Oshie puffed up. “We don’t need your Christian thoughts.”

Tears stung the back of my throat.

Maynard took a step forward. “It ain’t got a thing to do with you, Mrs. Pritchard.”

And there it was, the Mrs. part. I was changed whether I wanted to be or not. I only nodded and went back to the house, where I dumped the food in the trash. It was a pure sin with so many souls hungry, but them boys were too proud and stubborn to take my kindness.

Seven

H
obbs was in the habit of sleeping a big part of Saturday and Sunday. This was probably caused from his late hours. The weekend seemed to always bring some emergency that called him away to a neighboring farm. And so I wasn’t a bit surprised to see a man standing outside one chilly Saturday at dusk.

“Who is that out in the drive, Hobbs?”

Hobbs stood behind me to look out the window. He smelled like pine trees. I leaned back against him. For a second, he relaxed into me. “That’s Harper Wallace. He works for me. There must be some kind of trouble.” He pushed me away with a light touch.

“What kind of trouble is it this time?” My words had a tired, run-down sound.

Hobbs’s look turned dark and he wrapped his large hand around my wrist, pulling me close to his face. “You got some kind of attitude? My business ain’t your problem. I told you there was trouble. That’s all I need to say.”

My throat closed. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?

His grip tightened. He could snap my bone without much effort. “I work while you sit around this house doing nothing much, some little colored girl cleaning. Just shut up and leave me alone.” His fingers left prints on my skin.

Part of me wanted to tell him that he could go to hell. The other part wanted him to be the man I met in Asheville, the one who saved me from a life of serving.

“Now, don’t go getting your feelings hurt, or I’ll have to stay here and love on you. My work will go down the drain. We got to have money.”

“Go on and look after things.” In that instant, I wanted him to leave and not come back.

“Don’t worry, now. I’ll be back before sunup and I’ll wake you.”

And he was true to his word.

Hobbs crawled into bed around dawn, giving me whiskey kisses. I tolerated it until he turned over on his back and snored louder than ever. Men drank and women turned their heads. Mama and Daddy taught me that.

That’s when I decided I would go visit the First Episcopal Church of Black Mountain. I thought it was funny that such a small town would have a first anything since they didn’t even have a second. I was missing that old soup line back at home something terrible. See, when I was there I had a purpose, a reason to put my feet on the floor each morning. Shoot, on most days on the mountain, I could have crawled back in the bed after Hobbs left and stayed all day. Nobody cared. All I did was wander around that big house all day, dusting a few trinkets, sweeping a floor, and cooking supper. There wasn’t even any mending to be done or a book to read.

The icy air bit my arms through my thin sweater. But walking
helped warm me. When I reached the church, folks had begun to stroll through the door. The sound of the bell up in the tower vibrated through my body,
bong, bong, bong.
The boy ringing it swung into the air with each pull on the rope. I closed my eyes so tight my church back home appeared.
Bong, bong, bong.

“What are you smiling at, Mrs. Pritchard?”

My eyes fluttered open and Jack stood before me, grinning.

“I like the bell.” I didn’t even know his last name.

“I wondered how long it would take you to visit our little church.”

“How’d you know I’d come?” I tried not to look into his green stare.

“You struck me as a churchgoer the first day I met you.” He took off his wide hat. His hair was sparse in the front, which made him look older than Hobbs. “Hobbs ain’t going to take to you visiting the church.” He winked. “But I’m sure he’s still sleeping off his work emergency, right?” He looked at the people passing us. “You don’t have to worry about these folks. They’ll keep your secret.”

Again my cheeks went red. “I’m not going to hide my churchgoing.”

Jack laughed. “Mrs. Pritchard, you got some guts.” He guided me through the door. He smelled like fresh soap.

Folks turned their heads as we scooted into one of the shiny pews. “These are nice.” I ran my hand along the silky wood.

The church was filled slap full of people. Most I recognized from riding with Hobbs on rent-collection day. If they looked at me—most of them avoided that—it was with a frown on their face. One of the women was dressed better than the others. She held her back straight and her head high. Her dress was store-bought from a city bigger than Asheville. Her daughter could have worn rags and still been beautiful.

“That’s the preacher’s wife. She fancies herself a writer.
Never read anything she’s put on paper. She don’t fit in too good,” Jack whispered. My ear tingled with his breath.

The choir began to sing, and I lost myself in the words of those old hymns that I’d been hearing every Sunday since I could remember. The pastor stood at the pulpit, handsome in a city sort of way, and began to preach. Though he screamed with passion, his sermon was as dry as three-day-old bread. That was a true shame because he was telling my favorite story about Lot’s wife looking back and turning into a pillar of salt. Mama always said that woman should have looked into the future and not back over her shoulder into what was gone for good.

At the end of the service I accepted the offered ride from Jack and stepped out the back door. Maynard Connor stood next to a small rise. For a minute we looked at a stream of clear water shooting from a small pipe. Folks were talking, going on about their after-church socializing.

Maynard picked up a beaten tin cup and let the water splash into it. He held it between us, and for a second I thought he would place the rim to my lips. This was one of those moments Mama had talked about, where time stood quiet and glowed gold around the edges. But then he placed the cup to his own mouth and drank deep. The spring water splashed from the pipe. When Maynard was finished, he wiped his mouth on his shirtsleeve.

“This here is a special spring. I’m sure Hobbs ain’t never told you about it.” The water sent ripples in the small puddle on the ground. “It’s blessed by God.” His face was calm and handsome.

He placed the cup back where it belonged. “Even Pastor Dobbins has to admit the miracle he saw.”

“What miracle?”

“Shelly Parker. Ask her sometime.” The water sparkled in the sun.

“Why are you drinking from this spring?”

He looked older than the first time I saw him. “You’ll know before too long, Mrs. Pritchard. You’ll understand and remember sometimes to do good a person has to do something bad. It can’t be helped.”

Oshie ran out from beside the church and stopped dead still. “You got to come on, Daddy said so.” He tipped his hat to me. “Is Hobbs with you?”

Jack laughed from behind me. “That’ll be the day.”

Oshie relaxed.

Maynard gave me a sideways glance. “Got to go, Mrs. Pritchard.”

“It was good talking to you, Mr. Connor.”

I watched the brothers walk off.

“What was that all about?” Jack touched my arm.

Maynard’s words floated in my thoughts. “I think Maynard would be a good friend if he could.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “When did you meet him?”

“Him and his rude brother were cutting wood for Hobbs the other day.”

“I bet their daddy don’t know about that.” He looked down at me. “Stay clear of Hobbs’s business, Nellie.” We walked to the truck.

Hobbs was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home. “Where you been?”

“I went to church.”

“I don’t like my wife sneaking around.” He stared a hole through me.

“Going to church ain’t sneaking, Hobbs. Everybody on this mountain was there.”

“Not me.”

“No, not you.” I wanted to laugh at him but he’d only take offense and get mad.

“What did you think?” His voice was calm.

“I nearly jumped out of my seat with all the screaming. It was one of the worst sermons I’ve sat through.”

Hobbs smiled with pure pleasure. “Ain’t that what all good Bible-thumping folks want, cleaning of the soul?”

“I believe in God and going to church. Remember, you found me in a soup kitchen.”

“You left quick enough.”

He was right about that.

“Hobbs! Hobbs!” A racket came from the yard.

Hobbs pushed past me and threw open the kitchen door. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Harper, coming on Sunday?”

“Someone set”—he looked at me—“the barn on fire.”

“What barn?” Our barn was fine.

“Shit.” Hobbs jumped off the back porch in a run. “Go in the house and lock up, Nellie. Don’t open the door unless it’s me or Jack. Now!”

I shut the door and turned the skeleton key for the first time since I’d been living there. I stared out the kitchen window. What was Hobbs up to now? The man I’d seen before was standing on the edge of the woods. He wore little round spectacles like a person would have worn a long time before. He stared right at me, into me. Shelly had said I didn’t want to know him. Maybe he set the fire Hobbs was running to. I looked away, and when I looked back, the man was gone. The grass stood tall, not mashed down like it should have been. I stood in front of the window for the longest time, but he didn’t come back. Finally I made some coffee and went to sit in the rocker. The light was dimming. The days were so short in the mountains. Dark found us at five thirty.

I tried not to think about how life wasn’t exactly like I
thought it would be. The whole front room turned cold. My breath came out in little clouds. The fire had gone out. A woman, tall and big boned, moved down the staircase one step at a time. Her skin had a grayish tint. She wore a plain black dress and was shoeless. All I could do was stare. Fifty things went through my mind to say. How in the world did she get in the house? But I couldn’t open my mouth. On the last stair, the woman turned and smiled as if she had always known me.

I closed my eyes tight until little dots danced around. When I finally found the nerve to look, the woman was gone. The room was warmer.

“Mama, you said there weren’t no ghosts, but I think you’re wrong.” My words danced around the room. I sat down in the rocker and stayed there for what seemed forever, until a truck barreled down the drive. I threw open the door and ran out into the yard almost crazy with fear and worry. Jack climbed out. One long breath escaped my chest. But, before he could say a word, Hobbs’s truck came up the drive. I sobbed and that wasn’t like me at all.

Hobbs jumped from the cab and came at me yelling. “What the hell happened? Did he come here? Did he?”

“Yes, he was standing on the edge of the woods just as you left earlier. It’s the third time I’ve caught him on this land.”

Jack came closer. “Did you know the man, Nellie?”

“I ain’t never seen him anywhere but in the woods and this yard. He dresses in clothes my grandpa would have worn.”

Hobbs looked surprised and his friend Harper looked downright scared. “You didn’t see Maynard Connor!” Hobbs shouted at me. “Did you really see a man?”