Big Stone Gap (11 page)

“Is he in there, Ava?”

“He’s getting Rick out. Don’t worry.” I comfort Sweet Sue as best I can, and she goes to join the rest of the women behind the line. I look over at them. Their expressions range from utter desperation and fear to pure fury. They are tired of this, and they have a right to be angry. They have sharp eyes—nothing gets past them—but there is also a weariness that comes from disappointment.

Spec shouts at me to follow him as most of the other rescue squads have already departed with injured. The foreman is still furious with me for telling Jack Mac about Rick. His job is to save as many men as he can, and now it looks as though he will lose two. Spec is starting to referee our argument when we hear a woman scream, “Help them! Help them!”

The crowd hushes to still quiet as smoke pours out of the mine. Then, almost as if in a dream, Jack MacChesney emerges from the mine carrying a man. I hear someone yell, “Jack Mac’s got Rick! He’s got Rick!” Rick Harmon’s body is lifeless. We move in to resuscitate.

Spec is terrific with CPR and oxygen, so he takes charge and I assist. Jack Mac collapses and a doctor tends to him immediately. I look over at him and see that he is out cold. Rick’s wife, Sherry, runs to us with her kids. They clamor to touch Rick, believing they can bring him around with familiarity and love and kisses. But the supervisor pulls them away and we continue to pump, pump, pump. Spec looks up at me. “He’s coming to.”

The doctor joins us and takes over. He tells us to move Rick away from the residual smoke, so Spec and I lift him carefully onto a stretcher and carry him a few feet to a clearing. Rick opens his eyes and says, “My foot. Goddammit, my foot.” I smile at Rick with a look that says,
I don’t think this is a good time to be cursing God;
and he looks back at me apologetically.

“Let me take a look at it.” I hadn’t noticed his foot. It is mangled and bloody. I smile again and tell Rick not to worry. But I am worried; there is a deep cut across the top of his foot, and I cannot make out his toes. I fear he may lose it. “How is it, Ave?” he asks, suspecting the worst.

“It’s not too bad.” Rick looks relieved and closes his eyes. He passes out. I wrap the foot and ice it.

The Norton crew places oxygen on Rick and hoists him into the ambulance. The doors slam shut and they speed away. I turn to find Jack Mac, but he is gone. The unit from Appalachia has taken him to the hospital.

The supervisor grumbles at Spec and me as we pass. I stop and ask if everybody is for sure out of the mine. He assures me that they are. He smiles, not a smile of relief for the men who survived, but a selfish one. Saving lives for him is all about numbers; he has had a good day, and he knows his job is secure.

The women rush away from the roadside and get into their cars. They speed down the mountain to follow the ambulances to the hospital. Rick’s wife comes toward me and I give her a hug. All I can think is how much she must love him, and how happy she and Rick were dancing the other night at the Fold.

Spec drops me off at the Pharmacy, and I tell the girls I’m going to make a run to the hospital to see how the men are doing. Fleeta and Pearl need no details; they got the rundown from the police radio. Fleeta stops me as I’m leaving and wipes dirt off my face with a tissue.

Saint Agnes Hospital was founded by Irish Catholic nuns who migrated here in the 1930s. The common wisdom around here is, “When you’re sick, let the sisters take care of you.” Even though the locals don’t particularly care for Catholics, they make an exception when it comes to health care. The nuns built their hospital in Norton, the closest city and the location most central to the coal camps. I love the hospital because there are statues of saints and angels tucked in every corner. One time Eulala Clarkston was in for a blood clot and she swore that she saw the Virgin Mary wave at her. Sister Julia told me that, as much as they would love for the Blessed Mother to make an appearance in Norton, they were pretty sure Eulala didn’t actually see her. She was on Darvon at the time and was seeing things.

Most of the miners have been released. I ask one of the nurses if there is any word on Rick Harmon, and she tells me that he is undergoing surgery at UVA Hospital in Charlottesville, and that as soon as there is word, she’ll let me know. I see Spec in the hallway and compliment him on his CPR; he thanks me for helping. As I turn the corner to go, I run right into Jack MacChesney. I give him a quick hug that catches him off guard.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jack Mac is looking at my face funny, so I assume Fleeta didn’t get all the soot off of me. I wipe my face with my sleeve. Then he says quietly, “Thank you for telling me about Rick—”

I interrupt him. “The supervisor really let me have it. That guy is a real jackass.” Why am I talking so loud? I’m obnoxious. Then I blurt, “Do you need a ride home?”

Jack Mac looks like he would love one and is about to answer me when we hear a familiar voice.

“Jack!” his mother cries. “Let me see you!”

Mrs. Mac is on the arm of Sweet Sue. Jack looks at me, confused for a moment. Then Sue runs to him and covers him in kisses. Mrs. Mac then takes her turn and keeps touching his face like he’s five. All of a sudden I feel all the sad things I felt as a girl: I’m an outsider. Sweet Sue and Mrs. Mac embrace Jack, and rightly so, for he is the town hero now. He didn’t save thirty men, but he did save one; in the eyes of folks around here, that is just as important.

I’m happy Mrs. Mac and Sweet Sue are fussing over him. He deserves it. To be loved like that! To have somebody to worry about you. To have your mother hold your face in her hands like delicate china! I am watching something perfect and beautiful, and I am not a part of it. They are a family. I walk back around the corner and out the door to the parking lot.

All I want is a hot bath, a glass of wine, and a long phone call with Theodore, but as I round the driveway to the back of the house, I see that I have company. Aunt Alice and Uncle Wayne’s Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme is parked near my back porch. The two of them are walking in the yard surveying the trees.

“You ought to get the forestry division over here to check that poplar. It has root rot.”

I want to say,
And how are you, Aunt Alice?
but instead, I shrug.

“We’d like to talk to ye, Ava,” my uncle says.

I invite them in and offer them iced tea, which they decline. As we pass through the dining room to get to the living room, Aunt Alice takes into account every piece of furniture, dish, and glass. It’s as if her neck were on a wire, craning this way and that, to record each item and its placement in her memory.

I can’t imagine why they’re here. They never visit, call, or invite me to their home. After Dad died, out of respect, Mama and I would call them on holidays, but they were always so curt, we stopped trying. Aunt Alice has not aged well. She is around sixty now but looks far older. Her short hair is permed into dry, blue, tight curls. Her small face, wrinkled from a lifetime of grimaces, squints, and frowns, has an overall sour expression. She could use some Queen Helene. Her eyeglasses are too large for her face, and she has false teeth now—I can hear air whistle through them when she talks. Life has settled in on her, and the results aren’t pretty.

“What can I do for y’all?” I ask and sit. Aunt Alice sits, but Uncle Wayne remains standing. He looks awkward, as though he’s uncomfortable around his own wife. He is tall and lean, with the face of a wizened marionette; its creases are deep, as have been his compromises.

Aunt Alice answers, “We come down here ’cause I ain’t gonna chase you all over hell to discuss business with you. So you just set there and listen to me because I got something I need to say. Now, I know your mama done came clean with you.” She used the word
clean
, implying that what came before it was dirty.

“Inez Eisenberg needs to look up
client confidentiality
in the dictionary.”

“Now, Ava, you listen here,” offers Uncle Wayne. “We don’t want no trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Then I look at Aunt Alice. “And what kind of business?”

Then Aunt Alice explodes. “You look here, youngun, I have stood by all my life and watched my brother, who I loved very much, give all he had to you and your ungrateful mother, and I kept silent because he wished it so, but now, now that the truth is out, you need to know that restitution must be made to me as I am my brother’s only living blood relative. Blood. You know what I mean.”

I nod.

“You are not blood. You will never be blood. It almost killed my mama when Fred came home with a wop. A pregnant one! Jesus help us! He shows up back here, on this here porch with a sullied feriner! She moved in here with her high-and-mighty attitude, looking down her nose at us, and took him for all he was worth. He done educated you, clothed you. You ate well and lived like a princess with trips here and yon and up to Monti-sello and so forth, and I done never even got as far as Roanoke. You done took all you’re gonna take from me. And I mean that, missy.”

I sit quietly and look at my hands. There are three small cuts on my right index finger. I don’t remember getting them, but now they pulse a little and hurt. I must have gotten them removing Rick’s gear as the Norton crew lifted him into the ambulance. There is a little bit of dried blood around the first cut. I rub it off on my pant leg. Aunt Alice continues.

“After all, that business of his made you rich. That was my pappy’s building, and this was the Mulligan family homestead, and I got nothing from all of this. Do you know what it does to me to think I can’t live in the house I grew up in? That some stranger is living in my mama and daddy’s house, instead of me? I’m treated like this, and I am his true relative?”

“His blood relative,” I say quietly.

“Damn right! And here we are! Struggling! We’re on Social Security, but that ain’t enough. And you’re over here, rich as all get-out, and you have never lifted one finger to help us.” Aunt Alice turns to look up at Uncle Wayne. His mouth moves but no words come out, just like the mechanical Santa I put in the window at Mutual’s every Christmas. She stares at him to command him to speak, but he cannot. The vein in her neck is a tight, dark blue cord. Her head snaps wildly about in anger. She looks directly at me, which she has never done. I look into her eyes. Behind the bifocals, they are light brown, googly, off center, and surrounded by whites. (In face-reading, irises that float, surrounded by white, belong to folks with criminal pathologies. I’d say she’s angry enough to kill right now.)

“I wish somebody had thought about me for once. Looked out for me. Nobody never done looked out for me!”

This is true. Other than those few times after Fred Mulligan died, I never looked in on them, or brought them a gift, or stopped by. But I didn’t because they were the nastiest people I ever knew. Small and clannish, gossipy and mean, they didn’t deserve a loving niece. Besides, they had committed the worst of sins in my mind: They were hateful to my mother. Aunt Alice never showed me any affection whatsoever. Nor could I remember a birthday gift, a card, or an Easter egg for me, ever. Really, I had no attachment to them. That is why it is so easy for me to say:

“How much do you want?”

My question catches them both completely off guard. They look at each other. Uncle Wayne is practically salivating, like I could cut them a check right now. Aunt Alice is dizzy with greed, looking around, wanting everything in this simple house, including the house itself. Uncle Wayne shifts his posture to stand up straight.

“Your aunt and I haven’t actually come up with the specifics yet.”

“Well, I think you should.”

Aunt Alice looks at me. She doesn’t trust me. Her eyes narrow. “We’ve been talking to a lawyer down in Pennington, and he is advising us.”

“Have him call me.”

They look at me blankly. They didn’t expect me to respond this way.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I just had a job with the Rescue Squad and I’m mighty tired. Maybe you heard. We had a bad explosion up at Wence. If you don’t mind.” I stand and motion them to the door. Aunt Alice leaves first and doesn’t look back at me. Uncle Wayne, now in a gracious mode because he can taste cash, smiles weakly at me through his thin lips.

“We just want what we got coming to us.”

“I hope you get what you’ve got coming to you.”

I bolt the door behind them and go directly to the bathroom. I throw up. I am scared by how much I’m vomiting, and intermittently I cry. I flush with my left hand and lean and run the cold water with my right. As soon as I can splash the cold water on my face, vomit comes up again. This happens over and over, until nothing but clear water comes up from within me. I brush my teeth. I go to put the toothbrush back in its holder and find I can barely lift it. It is as though the toothbrush is made of concrete. I begin to cry again. I want my mother. I grip the sink. I watch my tears hit the white porcelain and disappear down the drain. “I should have killed her for what she said about you, Mama.” But deep within me, I know there is a better way to finish off Aunt Alice. I just have to find it.

 CHAPTER FIVE

The old wisdom that everybody needs a good lawyer is true. I have Lew. He is thorough and competent. I just wish Inez wouldn’t repeat everything she hears in his office. I don’t want my personal business discussed in line at the grocery store. Fleeta almost got in a fistfight when some unflattering stories were being passed around about me on double-coupon Saturday. For the most part, though, folks are more fascinated than judgmental that I turned out to be a bastard. They can’t believe the intrigue of it all, or that a regular person like me could be in the center of such a tale. The truth is, most folks around here are cautious conservatives, and the Bible is a serious guidebook for them. I’m getting looks of pity and wonderment from practically everybody I run into. I can tell which of my customers are repeating stories because they cannot look me in the eye. I surprise myself, because it seems that something like this should cause me some shame. I am more relieved than ashamed, though. The relief hasn’t brought me any peace of mind yet, but I am hopeful it will.

I need to speak to Lew, and I don’t want Inez to hear what I have to say, so I wait until I see him leave his office to pick up his mail at the post office. I grab my coat and follow him.

Lew juggles his keys and opens his post office box. It is stuffed with mail. As he pulls it out, he drops a periodical and I pick it up for him. I tell him about Aunt Alice and Uncle Wayne’s visit. Then I tell him my plan. I was up all night, scheming and drinking coffee, so I have a crazy look about me, but my mind is clear.

“You’re thinking like a lawyer. That’s scary,” Lew says, as he makes a cylinder out of his mail and snaps a rubber band around it.

I wait for Lew to exit the post office. I buy a pack of stamps and wait a couple of minutes before I go. As I walk back to the Pharmacy, I see Inez grabbing a smoke on the stoop of the law office. I wave to her and smile. Any sign of warmth throws her off, so she looks at me like I’m the town kook, waves back, and smiles weakly.

I return to the Pharmacy. I fill all my prescription orders, check my inventory, and make my bank deposit. I skip lunch. I don’t make any calls. I don’t say much to Fleeta or Pearl. I do my work. And I wait. A few hours pass, and Pearl calls me to the front.

“Lew Eisenberg wants you to come over.”

I hug Pearl and she looks at me oddly.

“It must be good news.”

“Oh, it’s not news. Not yet, anyway.”

Pearl shrugs and returns to her work. She’s scraping the tips off the used lipstick samples in the display rack. Fleeta is sitting on a box of new shampoos, taking a smoke, so she doesn’t notice I’m leaving. As I round the corner, I feel the first cold chill of autumn. It seems like the seasons changed in the course of this one day. The cool temperature gives me a boost.

“Is your beloved inside?” I ask Inez.

She thinks this is a little too hilarious, and laughs. “Go on in,” she says.

Lew is sitting behind his desk. He motions for me to sit down. He turns up the radio, so Inez can’t hear us. He goes over the legalities of my plan. He says one thing that concerns me: Wayne Lambert’s first cousin, Buddy Lambert, is our circuit court judge at the county level, and he is known as Judge Envelope. He can be bought, and Lew believes Wayne has probably already cut a deal. There is a part of me that agrees with Aunt Alice; Fred Mulligan’s money and real estate don’t really belong to me. Maybe I caused all this. Maybe my ambivalence about my father, the store, the money, and the house drew all these problems to me. Maybe Aunt Alice senses my weaknesses and knows how to hurt me the most. Her brother sure did; don’t these traits run in families? I don’t think she’ll quit until she makes me suffer.

Fred Mulligan was the most obstinate man I ever knew. His stubbornness—not his affection for my mother—is what made their marriage last. When I was in high school, he insisted that a lemon tree could grow in Big Stone Gap. No matter how much we argued with him, he could not accept that lemons need heat and sun to grow, the opposite of overcast and cool mountain weather. When the plant didn’t bear fruit, he blamed the mail-order company. The lemon tree is still in the backyard. Its branches are gray and twisted, wrapped around the drainpipe by the back-porch stoop. I’ll never tear it down; it reminds me not to turn bitter.

Lew sees my uncertainty. “You’re doing the right thing, Ave Maria,” he reassures me.

I have to stand up for myself. There is no one here to do that for me. For the first time in my life, I truly understand
alone
. My mother is gone. There is no brother or sister for me to turn to, no husband, just my intuition.

I don’t want the Lamberts to get a dime. I think of Aunt Alice mistreating my mother, and it is all the fuel I need. Lew gives me the paperwork, which I sign. He hides it in a satchel to take to court. Then Lew shakes my hand. He places both hands on mine, to give me support and courage. I want to hug him, but I can’t.

I pass Inez, who is now sitting at her desk, and turn back to Lew with one final thought.

“Lew, thank you for helping me. Aunt Alice and Uncle Wayne really deserve all they’re getting. It’s what Fred Mulligan would have wanted.”

Lew stands in the doorway. “We’re happy to have been of service to you.” Lew waves good-bye.

I’m out on the street, and I can hear Inez chatting on the phone already.

Insko is a tract of free land between Big Stone Gap and Appalachia that had been strip-mined. Instead of reclaiming the area, HUD put up low-income housing. When the valley floods, they move the people high up into the hills until their homes in the valley can be rebuilt. Sometimes it takes so long, folks give up and stay where they were placed.

Folks around here both rely upon and resent the government. When I was in school, we benefited from many programs. All of our vaccinations were free. Our lunch trays were filled with freebies: small bags of peanuts, a chocolate bar, or my favorite: a wedge of cheddar stamped
GOVERNMENT CHEESE
. They even sent entertainment from time to time. When I was in high school, a production of
Harvey
toured through, out of New York. I wasn’t the only student to notice that the lead actor was drunk and actually fell asleep onstage during the second act. But we didn’t care. We were looking for any excuse to be a part of the outside world, to see what folks looked like, sounded like, and wore. For fifteen cents, you could see a show and imagine the exciting lives of those actors on the stage. We were never disappointed.

Pearl and her mother live in one of the older homes at the far end of the Insko development. I have dropped Pearl off several times, so I know where to go. I pull up in front of the two-room house. I didn’t call ahead because I couldn’t—they still don’t have a phone, and they aren’t planning on getting one, as Pearl is saving for college. The aluminum siding needs replacing, and the porch is rickety and practically separated from the house. The government is not very diligent about maintenance. The windows are thin side-by-side sliders, no insulation. I can see a light on in the house. A few kids play nearby. They stop and stare at me. I fish around my purse for some gum. I find it and give it to them. They thank me and run off.

I knock a few times. Finally, the screen door cracks open about an inch.

“Mrs. Grimes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Ave Maria Mulligan, from town.”

Leah Grimes peeks out at me.

“Pearl went to fetch some leaves or something for her science project.”

“May I come in and wait for her?”

“I guess so.”

Leah Grimes opens the door to reveal a very clean but sparsely furnished room. There is an old bench, a small table, and a lamp. In the next room are two neatly made twin beds with old quilts on them. The kitchenette is neat. A pot of soup simmers on one of the two burners. Pearl comes in the door, breathless.

“Is everything all right, Miss Ave?”

“Everything is fine.”

“Mama, this is my boss, Miss Ave.”

“I know that.” Leah stands tall but looks at me funny.

“Pearl is a good worker. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“I know. She’s a good girl.”

“Has she brought you any of that miraculous Queen Helene masque yet?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Leah smiles and covers her mouth.

“I apologize if we’ve used you as a guinea pig for our new products, but we needed a woman with natural beauty to test it out on.”

“I used to be pretty, before I lost my teeth.”

“You know they can give you new teeth in town.”

“Someday. Right, Mama?” Pearl says, and gives her mother’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Would you like some tea?” Leah asks, finally warming up.

“If you don’t mind, I’ve got some business to discuss with Pearl.” Pearl stands up straight and acts terribly grown-up at the mention of business.

Pearl takes me on a tour of the development. About a quarter mile down the road is one of our local natural wonders: the waterfalls of Roaring Branch. It’s a magical place, natural stone steps with pure mountain water rushing over them. Folks come this way to sit and think and take in the beauty.

“You didn’t know we was so poor, did you?”

“I make a lot of deliveries in these parts.”

Pearl and I sit and look at the water for a long time.

“How come you drove up here to see me? Am I fired or something?”

“No. You’re doing a great job.”

“Thank you. I bug Fleeta sometimes,” Pearl apologizes. She looks at me expectantly, wondering why I’ve come.

“Pearl, do you have a dollar?”

“You just paid me. I got forty-six dollars.”

“I just need one.”

Pearl takes out her beaded coin purse and unfolds her money neatly. She gives me a dollar bill. “Do you need more? Here. Take as much as you want.”

“No, thanks. One will do it. Now, let’s shake on it.”

Pearl is confused, but she shakes my hand.

“Congratulations, Pearl. You just bought the Mutual Pharmacy.”

“I did? But why?”

As I walk Pearl back to her house, I explain that in order to protect the business from the scavenger Lamberts, I had to sell, and sell quickly. I had to make some big decisions in a hurry. I decided to sell my business so it couldn’t be taken from me.

When we get back to the house, Pearl turns to me.

“Can I tell Mama?”

“Absolutely. Just tell her to keep it top secret until I say so.”

“Miss Ave, are you sure about this?”

“Yes, ma’am. By the way, just because you own the place, you are under no obligation to become a pharmacist. You go to college and study whatever you’d like and be whatever it is you decide you want to be. Fleeta and I can hold down the fort while you’re gone. Fleeta will probably hit you up for a raise directly. I’m not so forward. But I do have a lot of experience, should you decide to keep me. I have a knack with the public.”

“But why did you pick me? Of all people?”

“Well, let’s just put it this way, Pearl Grimes. You’re just about the best person I ever knew.”

Pearl smiles. In the slate-blue twilight, her face is pure, unlined, and full of joy. Something good has finally happened to Pearl. At long last, somebody believes in her. Tonight in this exchange she has gained the tools with which she will build her self-esteem: She has been chosen and she has security. Maybe this is all that a person ever needs to succeed. Pearl has been picked, and that has begun to define her.

I promised Iva Lou I would meet her at the Sub Sandwich Carry-Out for a bite. This is mainly a teen hangout, but the rest of us go because the food is good. It has a nice ambiance; the plastic Tiffany-style chandeliers and orange Formica booths are casual and comfortable.

I tell Iva Lou about Aunt Alice and selling the business to Pearl.

“Honey-o, you ought to thank the Lord you came up with a plan like that. If your mean old aunt ever got her mangy mitts on the Mutual, nobody would trade over there. It’d close down. Ain’t nobody gonna do trading with that witch.”

“Lew really knows what he’s doing.”

“You know what I always say. A good lawyer is harder to find than a good husband. I’ll have to swing by and thank old Lew my way.” Iva Lou winks.

“Please. I’m in enough trouble.”

“Aw, I’m just kidding with you. But what happens to you? What will you do?” Of course, I’ve thought about this. I’ve never made an impulsive decision in my life.

“I’ve saved a lot of money, Iva Lou.”

“Good for you.”

“I’ll work for Pearl for a while, and then we’ll see what happens.”

Dickie and Arlan Baker, two Mormon fellows, join us in the booth. Iva Lou makes the introductions, as she was the one who set up the meeting. The Baker brothers look to be in their twenties. They are clean; their hair is cropped short, their skin smooth and pink. (Mama always told me to cut down on the soda pop, because it’s bad for the skin. As a rule, Mormons don’t drink pop; their skin is an advertisement to give it up entirely.) They wear regulation black trousers and white cotton button-down shirts. For as many years as there have been Mormons, the young men have gone door-to-door wearing the same clothing combo, passing out the same literature, preaching like the good missionaries they are. The brothers have come to the Pharmacy a couple of times, but I was always too busy to talk to them.