Quarrel with the Moon (12 page)

Avarilla said to her guests, "Sissy is a particular favorite of Alex's. He's always bringin' her presents. A blue-jay feather, a shiny stone, sometimes something he's whittled himself. Alex, meet my nephew, Joshua Holman, an' his ... friend, Cresta Farraday." The boy bestowed a quick half-smile and dug into his food, noisily smacking his lips and using his fingers to eat.

Cresta, sitting next to the boy, could not help looking at him. Alex's shirt was open and a shadow of hair covered his chest. Cresta was astounded. Surely he was no more than twelve years old. She looked at him more closely. His shoulders were broad and his arms well developed. Her eyes traveled downward. Alex's muscular thighs were encased in a pair of tight, bleached pants which emphasized the unmistakable outline of his genitals. Embarrassed, Cresta looked away. The boy appeared to be very fully a man.

Avarilla was talking. "You see, the childen of the community belong to everyone. Often they don't go home to either eat or sleep, but stop by any place that's convenient. Tonight Alex favored us with his presence."

"What a charming tradition," said Cresta.

"Yes," Avarilla continued speaking of the boy affectionately, as if he weren't there. "Alex also calls at the socials. He has a nice, clear voice." In an affectionate gesture more like a mother's than a neighbor's, Avarilla ruffled Alex's hair.

At first Cresta thought that Alex's dark brown hair had fallen over his ears. But no, it only appeared that way. The outer edges of his ears were completely covered with a silky down of dark brown hair.

***

The barn remained in darkness but then, there was no reason for Reuben to light the lantern. He was contented in the dark ... in the barn. He felt safe there. The hay was warm, and its pungent aroma was as comforting as a worn blanket. He stretched out, still wearing his clothes. He always slept in them. Clutched in his hand, like an appendage of himself, was a brown bottle containing the top of his latest run. His illicit remedy for life ... his corn whiskey. He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank.

Josh. Orin. It didn't seem right, them two looking so much alike. Reuben giggled. If he didn't know better, he'd think Orin got himself up in city clothes for a lark. His meditations confused him. He pressed his cheek against the rough wood planking beneath the window and scrunched up his face.

He peered over the windowsill. The willow tree was silhouetted by the moon, its silver tresses trailing to the ground like the hair of a woman. The two dark figures appeared again. One leaned against a shovel, the other knelt on the ground. Reuben grimaced. They often came when he was watching the willow tree. Generally they came on stormy nights. He narrowed his eyes and wondered why they never moved. They were as still as carved figures in a graveyard.

Reuben grunted and lay back down on the hay. Thinking gave him a headache. He closed his fingers around the neck of the bottle and drew it close to him.

Holding a kerosene lantern high, Avarilla preceded the young couple through the Thicket, toward the camper.

"It won't take a minute for me to change, Aunt Avvie," said Cresta.

"Take all the time you want, honey. I'll have me some fun lookin' over your camper. Just wear somethin' swirley - there's square dancin'."

"Won't they mind strangers coming to the social?" asked Josh, remembering the strange reception they had received earlier that afternoon.

"Goodness, no. It means two more young people to dance with. You're both goin' to be real popular, particularly you, Josh. There are a lot of widows up here on the Ridge."

"Why so many?" asked Cresta. "The war?"

"Oh no. We had a mine accident sixteen years ago. Killed every young man in the community."

"How awful," said Cresta.

"They closed down the mine after that. Orin an' Reuben were the only male survivors. Reuben, well as I said, he's self-employed. An' Orin wasn't to work that day, thank the Lord. He'd stepped on a trap only the night before an' he was having trouble with his foot. I guess that's why he's always had a rovin' eye. There's been so many women to choose from."

"How does Orin make his living now?" asked Josh.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. He does some carpentry - toys, furniture, coffins. You don't need much to live up here, no sir. If you live with nature, nature will take care of you."

"Did many of the men have families?" wondered Cresta. "It must have been terrible for the survivors."

"It was tragic, but we take care of our own up here."

"I can see that," said Cresta. "Like Alex this evening."

"Yes. Those of us that are left care for all of the children an' look after the young people, too." She smiled. "Even though some of them think they so grown up and they're beyond an old woman's advice."

"We saw some of the young people when we arrived today," said Cresta carefully. "Tell me, Aunt Avvie, are many of them ... deformed?"

Avarilla stopped and turned around to face Cresta. "Nearly all of them," she replied quietly. "Most of the women were pregnant at the time of the mine accident. The shock of losin' their husbands left a mark on them children. But, as I said, when your dear ones are different you love them even more."

She stopped in front of the camper and moved the lantern about. "Is this it? It's so pretty! All white an' decorated so nice. The design'd do for a quilt...."

"Oh, I bought a quilt this afternoon at Sophie Balock's store," said Cresta. "She should really charge more for such a fine piece of work."

"More than what?" asked Avarilla.

"I really didn't think one hundred dollars was enough. In New York that quilt would have brought three hundred at least."

Avarilla paused for a moment then said, "It's easy for us. We all get together an' sew them up in just a shake."

Josh unlocked the camper, stepped inside and switched on the lights.

Cresta hurried into the bedroom to find something to wear to the social. Josh offered his hand to Avarilla. The old woman seemed to need encouragement to enter the camper. "Ohhhh!" Avarilla exclaimed and clamped her hand over her mouth. "It's silly, but electricity always shocks me." She laughed at her unintentional joke. "It's roomy, really roomy." She ran her hands across the stove and examined the refrigerator. Her attitude was one of fascination, but not quite approval. Then she looked in the shower stall, turned on the water and shook her head. "Oh no, no. That would never do. Now my old copper tub - that's relaxin'." Josh offered her a drink of something, but she declined. Then he excused himself and joined Cresta to change.

After the door was closed, Cresta whispered, "I don't think Aunt Avvie approves of us sleeping together."

"You're reading her wrong, love. I don't think she's the kind of person who 'approves' or 'disapproves' of anything."

Cresta gracefully accepted Josh's putdown and went on searching through the small closet for something appropriate to wear. Josh kept on the same jeans but changed to a red-and-black lumberjack shirt and a pair of western boots.

Josh kept Avarilla company while they waited for Cresta. She finally emerged from the bedroom, wearing an extravagant gypsy costume purchased from Bendel's, banded and ruffled in hot shades of pink, orange and yellow. A kerchief was wrapped around her head, gypsy fashion, and the inevitable gold hoops dangled from her ears. Cresta smiled apologetically. "I suppose it's a bit fancy, but it's the only full skirt I brought with me."

Avarilla came to her rescue. "Goodness, Cresta! Every male in the place is goin' to carry on like a dog in heat. 'Course, they're real young, seventeen being the oldest."

"Except for Reuben and Orin," smiled Cresta.

"You're ready, then," said Josh a little sharply.

When they had stepped outside, Josh started to lock the camper. "Goodness," exclaimed Avarilla, "you don't have to do that up here, Josh. I don't think there's a single lock in the entire Ridge. No one would think of stealin' from anyone else."

Josh shrugged his shoulders and left the camper unlocked.

Avarilla marched ahead with long, striding steps. Josh and Cresta tagged behind her. The open, worn path led to a dirt road. To the left lay the General Store. Avarilla turned right.

"How far is it?" asked Cresta.

"Just a good, healthy walk," the old woman replied. "'Bout half a mile. Good for the circulation." As they walked toward the Community House, the Thicket gave way to forest on their right. Avarilla pointed to a path among the trees, lined with good-sized rocks and rhododendron bushes. "That way takes you to the Lookout. It's a great big boulder stuck to the side of the mountain. Got the best view around here. You can see the whole valley an' Cheat River windin' down below."

"Could we take a look, Aunt Avvie?" asked Josh. "Maybe we could see Harry's campfire from there."

"Best not to go to the Lookout at night, Josh. You got to cross a swingin' bridge which spans a gorge an' a stream. Wait till daytime. Not much to see at night, anyway."

They walked on, a few scattered houses on their left, forest on the right, until the road came to a covered bridge. The worn floorboards echoed their footsteps. The bridge opened once again onto the road; it was now flanked by cornfields. The wind rustled the sword-shaped leaves, and the air smelled of the ripening corn. The road began to climb. Avarilla pointed out the Community House in the distance; the twang of country music rushed down to them like a welcoming hand. The joyful sound of banjo, fiddle and dulcimer easily seduced John and Cresta.

The Chestnut Ridge Community House was a large, six-sided building constructed entirely of split logs. "The young people built it themselves," Avarilla explained. "It took a lot of hard work. The men did the notchin', the layin' up, the cuttin', an' the peelin'. An' the women kept tables filled with good things to eat an' cold barrels of beer. Finished just about a year ago. We gather here every Saturday night for a social. It helps to keep the young people content, an' not lured by the ways of ...
others
."

"You mean tourists?" asked Cresta. Avarilla nodded. "But what about your mountain crafts? Don't you want to sell them?"

"We hold one big sale a year. Summer's End, that's our local fair. It's comin' up in a couple of weeks. I hope you'll still be here."

"How long does it last?"

"Just one day. That's all we allow. We like to keep our community private. Tourists bring problems." Avarilla offered a quick smile. "Of course, I'm not referrin' to you two. I know that you respect our ways."

A group of young people stood outside the building. They greeted Avarilla warmly with hugs, kisses, and tender squeezes. She announced, "I want all of you to meet some visitors to the Ridge. This is my nephew, Joshua Holman, an' his good friend, Cresta Farraday. Now let's see, left to right, here's Harvey, Wilella, Annie, David an' Maude." Josh nodded automatically. Cresta tried not to stare: Wilella had extraordinarily thick eyebrows which grew together, and looked as though a fuzzy caterpillar were crawling across her forehead. Maude had a prognathous jaw, the lower half of her face thrust forward so sharply that her normally formed nose appeared foreshortened, squashed against her face. Cresta turned away only to encounter Annie, her cheeks shadowed by smooth patches of facial hair. Suddenly embarrassed by her own perfection, Cresta rushed to catch up to Josh. How, she wondered, was such a terrible thing possible? How could all the children be marked in such a manner? The two boys - Harvey and David - hurried to open the double doors for the trio. Cresta stared straight ahead, determined not to look too closely at either one of them.

The interior of the Community House was brightly lit; wagonwheels hung from the rafters and supported numerous kerosene lanterns. There were rows of plain wooden benches on either side of the dance floor. At one end was a raised platform where six musicians - three elderly and three younger men - played. Directly to the right was a long table laden with good food and a giant galvanized tub brimming with a concoction designed to loosen up the crowd. Ten or twelve young couples danced to the rhythm of the infectious music. A group of people, perhaps sixteen in all, and mostly women, stepped aside for Avarilla and her guests. The music slowed down as the musicians shifted their attention from their instruments to the most recent arrivals. Circles of dancers lost their steps; conversations stopped in midsentence and punch cups missed their marks.

Avarilla introduced the couple to everyone within earshot: "I want you to meet my long lost nephew an' his lady friend."

Josh and Cresta nodded genially and followed Avarilla toward the refreshments. Josh was uncomfortable under the scrutiny they were receiving. Cresta, long used to audiences, paid little mind to the stares.

At the table, two elderly women were dispensing edibles and punch. Cresta eased away from the group which was closing in around Joshua and Avarilla. The women offered Cresta welcoming smiles, and the young model realized that news of their arrival in the Ridge had preceded them to the social. Deciding to introduce herself, she crossed to the table. "Hello, I'm Cresta Farraday."

The women looked startled by her audacity; then they smiled. A narrow hand, rough and dry as a dead leaf, shot out to take Cresta's proffered one. Its owner said, "I'm Jewell Runion. Aunt Avvie told us you were here."

"An' I'm Faye Brooks," nodded the other. Wattles of flesh shook with every movement. "Nice to have you for a spell."

Josh and Avarilla joined Cresta. Suddenly the old women became quite disconcerted. They sucked in their breaths and exchanged frightened looks.

Avarilla introduced Josh to the astonished women as they stared at him: "... Oldest an' dearest friends ... long lost nephew ... New York City ... all these years ... Harley an' Leoma's boy ... why of course, I've mentioned Josh ... all of us gettin' forgetful ... comes with age." Avarilla cleared her throat to command their attention. "An' isn't it a caution how much Josh resembles Orin?"

The women spoke in unison, "Yes, a caution."

Faye was the first to recover her bearings. "Would you enjoy a cup of punch, ah, Joshua?"