On Agate Hill (13 page)

Come on now, Susie whispered.

We followed her out looking back from the door to see Mama Marie so slight in the bed it seemed that no one was even there, sunlight winking off the cut glass punch cup that held her boiled custard.

Yall better come on and get your coats now, Susie said, for Aunt Mitty lives on the ground floor and keeps her door open all the time even in the winter, she cant stand a closed room or a room without a door in it. We went inside.

Its about time. Where have you been? Her strong old ratchety voice sounds like a rusty hinge opening.

We stood looking all around the messy room. As always, her coffin rested on its low wooden stand in the corner.

Well? Cat got your tongues? she asked.

Mary White and I looked at each other, but we could not figure out where the voice was coming from. Aunt Mitty wasnt there.

Good morning!
Suddenly she sat bolt upright in the coffin. Mary White screamed, backing out the open door, while I started laughing and couldnt stop.

What in the world are you doing Aunt Mitty? I asked. Trying to scare us to death?

Just practicing, she said. I find it keeps me focused.

Focused on what? We both drew nearer.

On what is important, she said. And I would advise you to do the same Molly Petree, for though I have always liked you, I see that you are a rebellious girl with a dangerous nature, headed into a lot of trouble. I advise you to turn to God my dear, for He is watching you every moment, always and everywhere. Forget all this makebelieve. Read your Bible.

I all ready read it once, I said. And now Aunt Cecelia is making us read it again. I would rather read something else. I would rather read poetry.

Aunt Mitty pointed her long skinny finger at me.
You have an eternal soul Molly Petree
, she said,
whether you want it or not
.

Well I dont want it,
I said. This is true. I did not say that I dont want to go to Heaven either. I dont want to be an angel any more than I want to be a ghost girl. I want to be a real girl and live as hard as I can in this world, I dont want to lie in the bed like Mama or be sick like Mary White. Or be a lady. I would rather work my fingers to the bone and die like Fannie. I want to live so hard and love so much I will use myself all the way up like a candle, it seems to me like this is the point of it all, not Heaven. I want to have a demon lover and also a real boy who will be my husband and love me more than life itself. I want to live on my own land not somebody elses plantation. I dont give a damn about Heaven. But the horrible thing about Aunt Mitty is that she seems to know all this without me even telling her. Her little black eyes behind her spectacles are bright and sharp, like jet earrings. It is like she can see right down into my soul, like she knows how hard Mary White and I laughed after the camp meeting when old Mister Pink McCloud got saved, falling down on the ground in a fit of religion and hollering out,
Boys he’s done got me by the short hairs now
. Mister Pink McCloud has this big old goiter. I dont care to go to Heaven if he is going to be there, or Aunt Cecelia, or Mister Gwyn either one. But I dont believe in Heaven anyway. I have seen too many die. I have seen their spirits leave their bodies as in the case of Mamma and Willie, and believe me, they are gone. They get cold and hard very fast. They do not fly up to Heaven on angel wings, if they are anything
they are ghosts. I used to be a ghost girl myself but now I am a real girl, and I am not going back.

Molly, Molly.
Aunt Mitty sat straight up in her coffin staring at me.
Oh I know you Molly.
I recognize you. For you are my own girl, the girl of my heart. But the time draws nigh. You must listen to me, as I dont have long to tell you the things you need to hear, the things you must take to heart.

Come on.
I pulled Mary White out the open door onto the gallery.

What is the matter with her? Mary White asked.

She is just old and crazy, I reckon. She is old as the hills, I said.

Molly!
Aunt Mitty shrieked after us like a witch.

I pulled Mary White down the gallery steps and we ran around the side of the house giggling and did not say good bye to anybody, not even Susie.

We started the long walk home. First through the Big Field and past the hollow tree where we encountered a black and white dog who was very friendly. I patted him while Mary White rested, she gets so tired. We had crossed the mill race on the bridge and were walking through the forest when all of a sudden Mary White, running ahead, began to scream. At first I thought she was playing a game. What is it? I called.

Molly come here quick, please come, oh Lord this is awful, she called, so I took off running and found her standing stock still in a clearing where an old wagon trail crosses the path. She pushed at her head with both hands like she was trying to hold it together. Her wispy bright curls made a halo in the sunlight.
Oh Molly.
She gulped to catch her breath and in the silence I heard birds chirping. A squirrel ran across the path.

What is it? I said.

Look.
She pointed down the wagon trail and then I saw it too, a negro hanging by the neck from a rope attached to a big old oak tree. His body turned slowly in the air. He was a large negro, very black, with his swollen head drooped over to the side and his mouth open and his tongue out, eyes naught but bloody holes. He wore no shirt nor shoes, his back a bloody mess.
From whipping. Or beating.
I knew this. The day was as bright and sunny as before except that now the ice was melting and in the quiet we could hear
trickles of water running everyplace, like a little song. Some clothes and trash lay at the negros feet where the mud was all trampled up. Mary White was crying and I started crying too.

We must have walked right past him on the way over here, she said.

We didnt even look down that road, I said.

But now we could not stop looking.

It was the KuKlux, I said. You know it was. I told Mary White how they had hanged another colored man down in Chatham County a while back, and drowned a colored woman in a mill pond because she was impudent to a white lady.

How do you know that? Mary White whirled around.

I read it in Uncle Junius newspaper, I said. And over in Moore County they killed a colored blacksmith and murdered his whole family and set the house on fire. They found everybodys bones the next morning.

Stop it, stop it!
Mary White put her hands over her ears.

I’m sorry,
I said. I dont know why I always have to know things like that, why I have to go on like that, but I do. It is the way I am. I always have to know everything.

The body turned round so slow. The red dirt road went on underneath and beyond it, into the dark piney woods.

Mary White took her hands down. She was paler than ever, with red spots on her cheeks like a doll. We have to go back to Agate Hill right now, she said.

And so we left then, walking fast, and the sun was low over the river when we got there. It was getting colder.

Aunt Cecelia flung open the door, hair falling out of her bun.

Grandmama!
Mary White, who can be a real baby, hugged her skirts. Grandmama the most terrible thing happened—

But Aunt Cecelia pushed her out to arms length and said, For once, girls, none of your nonsense. Lets not dramatize. Junius is gravely ill, do you hear me? Gravely ill. I have sent Washington for Doctor Lambeth.

But we saw a dead man hanging from a tree, Grandmama, a negro, and he was all bloody, and his eyes were gone.

Aunt Cecelia shook Mary White like a rag doll.

You did not
, she said. Listen to me. Girls you did not see that, do you hear me? I wont hear another word about it. Not another word. Now is that understood?

But Uncle Junius will want to report it to the magistrate, I was saying when she slapped me hard on the cheek. It felt like a burn.

Listen to me Molly, she said, eyes wide and nostrils flaring. This is none of our business. Just forget it. We have got enough trouble here, there is no sense borrowing more. Now do you understand?

Yes
, I said, but I dont, and I am going to tell Uncle Junius anyway, and I am going to tell Doctor Lambeth when he gets here, which ought to be soon. I am looking out through the chink for him now.

December 8, 1872

Dear Diary,

I have done what I said. I sat on the heart pine floor of the passage just outside Uncle Junius door for an hour, waiting for Doctor Lambeth. Finally he came out shaking his head. He put on his coat.

Cant you do
anything?
Aunt Cecelia wailed. She popped her eyes and twisted her handkerchief up in her hands.

They didnt even see me.

No Cecelia, he said. I regret to say this. I have loved Junius Hall from the day we first met, when he and I were young men together fifty years ago, running these woods like bird dogs. I was just remembering the time we went down the Cape Fear River on a flatboat, all the way to Wilmington. Now that was a memorable trip. He smiled his wide sad smile.
Ah, but that was a different time,
he said. The wrinkles on his face looked like cobwebs.
Keep him comfortable
, he said.
Give him the medicine.

Aunt Cecelia made a sound and turned away.

Doctor Lambeth put on his hat. He picked up his doctor bag.

I jumped up and darted in front to open the door.

Molly, he said. My goodness but you are growing up into a real young lady now. It has been some time since I’ve seen you.

I held the door and Doctor Lambeth came and we went outside into the cold gray day and stood on the stone piazza while Washington rode the horse up the lane.

Listen
. I grabbed Doctor Lambeths bony arm and told him all about the negro hanging and where it was. I told him everything. Report it to the sheriff, I said. Tell the magistrate. Somebody has to do something. I did not say that whenever I close my eyes now I still see that bloody body turning around and around on the rope in the little breeze.

Yes, Doctor Lambeth said in his deep kind voice. I will do so Molly, I promise. I will do everything in my power. But I cannot promise what the outcome will be. I want you to know that. I cannot say what if anything will be done. He put down his bag and hugged me into his great black coat.
These are hard times, honey,
he said. His coat smelled like tobacco and traveling. Then he got on the horse and Washington stood beside me while we watched him ride away.

December 10, 1872

The middle of the night

Dear Diary,

Again as before I have been sleepwalking. Last night soon after we had laid down I awoke with a start to find myself in the hall with a light still burning below and angry voices floating up the stairs. Making no noise I tiptoed down them and along the passage. There stood Aunt Cecelia in her monstrous blue dressing gown just inside Uncle Junius room where he lay propped up on many pillows with his mouth open, breath rattling in his chest. Doctor Lambeth says it will not be long. Selena sat on the rumpled bed beside him. Her hairbrush lay on the counterpane, her clothes were thrown about the room. She stays there with him now.

Aunt Cecelia was saying, Junius, this is intolerable.

Let him be. Selena said. For Gods sake. Go to bed Cecelia. Her black hair fell to her waist. She was wearing one of his old shirts which she clutched together across her breasts.

Junius! I am speaking to you, Aunt Cecelia said.

Uncle Junius turned his head and looked at her but he was not himself, and will not be himself, as he is dying.
Drowning
is what he says.
I am drowning
in that awful voice. Before, he was thrashing around and yelling but now since Doctor Lambeth came he is quieter. He is dreamy and more content.

Selena gave him a spoonful of the medicine from the little blue bottle and then put it back on the table next to the lamp. Listen here Cecelia, she said. I have some news for you. Junius and I will be married within the fortnight. Her black eyes were flat and shiny.