Ghost on Black Mountain (8 page)

“Sounds like my mama.”

“Why don’t you go down and see her, your mama?” He was watching me close.

“How? It ain’t like Hobbs left me a way. And he don’t like her one bit since she refused to come to our wedding.”

He laughed. “Well, sounds like she’s got sense. Let’s see what Christmas brings.”

After he was gone, I sat in the rocker and watched the flames until I got to that sleepy place where I was awake but couldn’t move. A sound I hadn’t heard in a while, a sound I’d been waiting to hear, pacing around and worrying over, rattled up the drive. I had thought I would dance for joy, but I didn’t. And this caught me off guard.

The kitchen door opened. “Well, well, look who’s up waiting on me.”

I didn’t crack a smile. A battle took place in my chest on whether I was going to grab my next breath or not. Hobbs was home.

Twelve

C
hristmas loomed in the background as I walked through the next few days not giving joy to Hobbs being home for the holiday. Everything in me had up and buried itself deep in some hole. But Hobbs was purely happy and walked around whistling. We never seemed to be able to feel the same way at the same time. Church was the only place I found a peaceful moment, and it wasn’t even real peace since Jack sat close by, smelling like clean soap, close enough to let me study the line of his jaw. He smiled here and there, tipped his hat, but kept his distance. He was a fine catch for a sensible girl. Up until I met Hobbs I had been just that kind of girl.

I worked on some gifts, trying to catch the proper mood for the Lord’s birthday. It was a time of new beginnings, of birth, shedding our old skins and gaining something completely new. One night the snow fell in big fluffy flakes. I stood at the bedroom window and listened to Hobbs snoring. The soft whispery voice—Nellie—seemed to move through the tops of the trees, through the river, through the very earth itself. The
mountain was talking to me, accepting me. I couldn’t make out all it said, but I knew the day I could, things would change. For good or bad, I wasn’t sure.

On Christmas Eve, Hobbs took out early to do whatever he had planned for the holiday, and I decided to walk to church for the afternoon service. The trees were bare and a brisk wind pushed me up the path. The whole sanctuary was lit by candles. My heart sank and jumped at the same time. In that candlelight, I thought I saw some hope, a way out of the mess I’d made of my life, but that would mean failing. When the good pastor sang out his altar call, I stayed in the pew. I never had been much of a kneeling-in-the-front-of-the-church person. But I prayed God would deliver me from my hopelessness. That’s the best I could do. A person should be careful what they pray after. Of course what happened, all that took place, couldn’t be left at God’s feet. Nope, what came later was like the little purple crocuses pushing through snow to bloom; it was going to happen no matter what tried to get in the way.

On the way home from the service, I stopped at the little cabin in back of Pastor Dobbins’s house. In my skirt pocket was a small bundle. I tapped on the door as I stood on the wide front porch. Through the window, I saw the front room washed in lamplight. In one corner was a bed with the most colorful quilt, all bright blues, reds, oranges, and yellows. A big fireplace took over the room, but what caught my eye was the fancy organ in the corner.

“What brings you this way, Mrs. Pritchard?” Shelly’s mother had opened the door without me noticing.

My cheeks heated having been caught snooping. “I had a little something for Shelly.” I pulled the lacy cloth napkin out of my pocket. “I hope that’s all right.”

Mrs. Parker pushed the door open wider. “Come on in.” She turned her head. “Shelly, we got company.”

Shelly appeared in the door of a room to the back of the cabin. “Mrs. Pritchard.” Her smile was almost shy.

“I have this for you.” I held out the napkin folded neatly around the surprise.

Shelly took it and sniffed. “Oh, you made it.” She grinned. “Fudge.”

Mrs. Parker’s smile was stiff. “Isn’t that nice. You thank her, Shelly.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard.”

“It’s nothing much. I wanted to thank you for all your help. You’ve been such a hard worker.”

Mrs. Parker’s face relaxed. “I taught her to be on her best.”

“Do you play the organ?” I asked Shelly.

She looked at her feet. “Not good.”

Mrs. Parker straightened her shoulders. “You play real good. Go play Mrs. Pritchard a Christmas song.”

Shelly frowned but walked to the organ. She placed her long fingers on the keys and played “Silent Night” without missing a note.

I clapped.

“Shelly learned from Miss Faith. She’s good enough to play for the church if they let coloreds do such a thing.”

“She is very good.”

Shelly stood. “Can’t I have a piece of fudge?”

“Tell Mrs. Pritchard bye and then go eat one piece.”

“Bye.” Shelly smiled and ran back to the room with the fudge in her hand.

I sure wasn’t used to a shy Shelly. When I was alone with Mrs. Parker, I couldn’t find one word to say, but that didn’t matter. Mrs. Parker stood in the middle of her small neat cabin and found all the words she needed.

“She won’t be coming back to your house. It was kind of you to stop by.” Mrs. Parker held the door open.

“Oh, she can come back after Christmas.”

Mrs. Parker shook her head. “No ma’am. Your husband stopped by the pastor’s house and gave him Shelly’s pay. He said he had no use for her work. That you were going to take over the chores.”

Sweat broke out on my neck even though it was cold. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll miss her.”

“You’ve grown on her, but Shelly don’t belong cleaning your house.” Her words were firm. “I don’t want her close to Hobbs Pritchard no more.”

The air was thick with my silence.

“I guess I need to get home.” I wanted to fix things between us, but there wasn’t no use.

“I thank you for the thought.” Mrs. Parker watched me from the door.

“She’s a good worker. I’m sorry if I did anything to offend you.” I hung my head and walked.

“Shelly’s seen a spirit that’s here cause of you.”

A ripple of dread went over me.

“The spirit warned her that you’re in danger. Did she tell you?”

“No.”

Mrs. Parker came close to me. “You ought to use that brick dust I sent. Something bad is going to happen.” She held her hand up. “Don’t ask cause I don’t know. I don’t think Shelly knows. But it’s bad.”

I was silent.

“You’re young. You ain’t going to listen to what grown folks say.”

Night was pulling in on me. She was right, I wasn’t listening to no one, not even the little voice in my head.

Hobbs came in late that night, sounding like a drunken Santa. He found me in bed and pushed a ring, a gold wedding band, in my hand. “I never gave you one, so here.”

The ring was simple and big, too large for my finger, but the thought was there wrapped up in all his misguided ways, as if God had actually heard my prayer. I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Hobbs.”

He stood straight. “You better thank me. I do a lot for you. Look at what you have here.” He opened his arms to welcome the room.

As usual he stuck his foot in the middle of something good and mixed it all up. “Do you love me, Hobbs? Do you?” We’d been married nearly three months and not once had he said those words. Not even when we said I do.

He had a look of complete confusion.

“Do you?”

“I say it every time I provide for you. This ring here says it most of all.”

“You ain’t never said it.”

“Oh shit! Why I got to? I ain’t one to spout words. I gave you the ring.” He was getting tired of talking.

I took the ring off my finger and pressed it into my palm. “Thank you for the thought. It means a lot.”

“Oh shit, do you have to pout?” He slapped his knee. “Christmas is here and I want my present.” He pulled me to him, moving on me fast in his same old way. A laugh struggled to get free of my chest, but I stuffed it down, knowing full well what that would bring me. I was learning my lessons each and every day.

When all the huffing and puffing was over, I watched a slip of a moon riding the tree line. What would happen if I went out to the river and lay down? Let the current pull me under, twist me around? What? Would it take me away from this place? Would it be worth the sacrifice? I wasn’t ready to die, not for Hobbs, not at that minute anyway.

Thirteen

S
nowflakes fluttered down outside the window the next morning, Christmas morning. It was a beautiful gift. Hobbs slept beside me. Would he even remember giving me the ring? If he was sober, would he want to give it to me? I slipped the gold band on my finger and almost laughed out loud at the size. I didn’t want to know where he got it, but something deep inside told me I should know. Some poor farmer had to give up his wedding band on Christmas Eve for a debt owed. I slipped out of bed and went to where my gifts were hidden: one for Jack, Aunt Ida, Hobbs, and even one for Mama. Each gift was homemade and wrapped in tissue paper I found lining one of the drawers in the dining-room sideboard. Each was made from a quilt I’d found in a trunk out in the barn: a hand-sewn stocking that would hold a gingerbread cookie—silly kid stuff, but still good thoughts.

I worked the spicy dough with the rolling pin and cut each cookie with the cutter shaped like a man. We had no tree, no wreath, not even a stocking hanging on the mantel. Hobbs
thought it a bunch of trouble, but I had hoped he’d come around. I was coming to see he was hateful and didn’t have room for happy thoughts. Maybe he enjoyed being miserable. There were people like that, mean and spiteful, full of poison. I’d seen that side of Daddy before, even though Mama tried to cover his meanness.

The icing, blue, red, and yellow, came out perfect. I added eyes and hair to the cookies. The sugar sprinkles were a childish touch but it was Christmas. There I was, trying my best to bring my memories of Mama at Christmas to life. It wasn’t fair I couldn’t see her. What was I doing on Black Mountain?

Hobbs stood on the stairs as I wrapped the last cookie. His hair was in a scrabble of curls like a young boy in a hurry to see what Santa brought. I wanted to throw myself in his arms and forget all our starts and stops. The big old ring hung off my married finger.

“What you doing, Nellie girl?”

“It’s a secret. Now, go on.”

He smiled, looking even more like a boy, erasing those mean thoughts I had. “What you got?”

“Go on and don’t spoil my surprise.” I smiled.

Outside the window fell thick fluffy flakes.

“Look at that snow falling. It’s all too damn sweet, ain’t it?”

I ignored him.

Aunt Ida’s house smelled like Mama’s on Christmas Day. Jack had a big fire burning in the fireplace. He smiled and looked right at me when we came in. “Don’t you look like a picture?” Delight lit up his face.

Hobbs noticed my clothes for the first time. “Where’d you get that dress?”

Had I been smart, I would have lied and told him my dress
was old. He sure didn’t keep up with what I wore. Instead, I twirled around. “I made it.”

Hobbs’s eyes narrowed. “Where’d you get the cloth?”

“I found a old dress out in the barn. It was way too big to be one of your mama’s.”

“It’s one of my mama’s old dresses.” Jack smiled. “And I know she’d be thrilled you used it in such a pretty way. You know she loved to sew?”

I could have kissed him, but I held out my hand. “Did you see my Christmas present from Hobbs?”

Hobbs puffed up. “Put that up, Nellie.”

Aunt Ida took my hand and jerked it toward her. “It’s a bit big.”

“Yes ma’am, but it don’t matter. Hobbs gave me a wedding band. That means more than anything.”

“Shut up, Nellie!”

Silence filled up all the space in the room. I could have scratched Hobbs’s eyes out, but I didn’t let one tear fall, not one.

“Don’t you have some silly gifts to hand out?”

I didn’t even care anymore. I was dying from the inside out.