On Agate Hill (11 page)

What did she do? I asked.

She jump up and say, Miss Cecelia I am in charge of this job and I can tell you, we know what we are doing here, so why dont you just keep your nose out of it. Go on back to Agate Hill and leave it to us hired help.

I could just imagine how Selena would look when she said this, head flung back, eyes on fire.

But Miss Cecelia not give an inch. Liddy, Bess, she said. Run that meat through the grinder again.

Did yall do it? I asked in the dark.

Oh yes, Washington said.

What did Selena do then?

She stand right up and look her in the eye — you know Selena is ever bit as big as your auntie— and she say, You will be sorry for this Cecelia. No Miss Cecelia nor nothing. Then she say to us all,
Yall can go to hell.
Then she go running out the door, and none of us has seen her since.

But where is she?

She got Rom to drive her over to Greensboro, leaving them children to fend for their selves. Mama been feeding them. Mama said Selena probably out walking the streets.

Walking the streets? I said. Why would she want to do that?

Washington was laughing. Nevermind, he said. But Mama said we not going to get rid of her so easy. And now today, Mister Junius has done sent Virgil back over there to find her and fetch her back.

I bet Aunt Cecelia is mad about that, I said.

Mama said Miss Cecelia is fit to be tied. But she is treading on mighty thin ice now.

I knew that meant Aunt Cecelia might leave, taking Mary White with her. Mary White has never seen a hog killing and now she never will. All of a sudden I wished I could go back to the days before Aunt Cecelia and Mary White ever came here, when I was just a ghost girl running this place and playing in the woods with Washington.
Come on Washington
, I said. Lets go up on the hill and ride some saplings like we used to. For we used to ride them one after another all the way down Agate Hill.

I cant, Molly, Washington said. They are waiting for me now. They will be mad all ready. He reached back and opened the door and the sunlight poured in making Washington into a black silhouette like the silhouettes of those old dead people hanging on the wall in the parlor. All of a sudden I realized how tall he got last summer, though he is still as thin as a rail.

Well bye then, I said.

Bye, he said, then,
Molly?

What, I said.

The sunlight shone out all around him but he was black in the center of it.

What happened at the end of Gullivers Travels?

He lived with the horses for a long time, I said. They were real nice, remember?

I remember, Washington said.

Then he made himself a canoe and sailed back home.

Thats good then.
Washington grinned at me, then waved, and then was gone.

I took the cream up the steps and in the kitchen to Liddy who was mixing something up in the big blue bowl. She looked at me good when I set the bottle down on the table. What taken you so long? She asked.

I been talking to Washington, I said.

Liddy shook her head and turned her mouth down. Dont you be bothering Washington, she said. He got work to do.

Sometimes I think Liddy is just as bad as Aunt Cecelia, she doesnt want Washington and me to be friends either.

November 19, 1872

Dear Diary,

Now we have been to the Tableaux Vivants, the best and most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed though I did not want to go at first as Aunt Cecelia said they are edifying. Well she has edified me almost to death all ready but Mary White said, Oh do come, Molly, you will love it, you can wear my blue velvet dress! So we took the carriage with Virgil driving and even he was dressed up. Where did you get that hat? I asked him. But he just clicked to the horses and off we went. Mary White and Aunt Cecelia sat in the back under a lap robe but I got to sit up in the front with Virgil, like a scout. I waved to all. It was a real pretty day not even cold. I remembered that poem Aunt Fannie used to read about
Octobers bright blue weather.
I took off my hat for I love to feel the sun and the wind on my face.

Put that hat back on Molly, you little fool! Aunt Cecelia screamed up to me. You will get freckles.

I dont care,
I called back. Two wagons passed by, loaded down with wood from Mister Grissoms sawmill. I grinned and waved to the Grissom boys who sat perched like blackbirds on top of the wood. I did not even bother to say, I dont care if I get freckles or not because I am not going to be a
lady, I would rather die than be a lady like you. I remembered way back when Rachel and Julia were trying to get rid of freckles by slathering themselves every night with a potion they made up from cucumbers and milk, which did not work.

Diary, I have forgot to say that Julia and Rachel are coming for Christmas, both of them, and Julia is bringing a beau! I can not wait. Mary White and I hope for a big wedding though Uncle Junius says, Who in the hell will pay for it? You girls had better stick with Robert E. Lee.

Anyway, it took us two hours to get to Hillsborough. Mary White and I were too excited to eat our cold suppers— which consisted of a ham biscuit and a fried apple pie apiece— so Aunt Cecelia ate all of them. I waved to everybody. The sun had gone down in a blaze of fire by the time we got into town. Virgil drove the carriage around to the back of the widow Muriel Browns house.

Then we all went inside for tea cakes and lemonade. Aunt Cecelia and the widow had sherry wine.
Show them your dolls, girls,
the widow Brown said to her two mean daughters, so there we went up the long curving staircase with Adeline and Ida, who we hate.

There they are.
Adeline pointed at a chaise longue covered with them, all kinds of dolls in all kinds of costumes, even a doll from Spain. But when Mary White bent down to pick one up, Adeline said, Please dont touch, its time to go now anyway.

Oh I’m so sorry, please excuse me! Mary White jumped back as if she had been shot and said in her nicey-nice way.

Going back down those long stairs, Mary White ran ahead of Adeline who somehow tripped and tumbled down the last five or six steps to land on her backside and come up sobbing.
You
—Adeline started to say, but there was Mary White helping her up, attended by the widow and Aunt Cecelia.

So then we were almost late, and off we went down the street toward the Masonic Lodge, falling in with a great raft of people all dressed up and talking gaily.
Good evening, Miss Brown, Miss Worthington, good evening,
girls. Gentlemen tipped their tall hats. It was already dark. Lanterns shone.
You forget how dark it is out in the country until you come to town. Adeline and Ida ran off with their friends, so Mary White and I were free to hold hands very tight and walk behind Aunt Cecelia and the widow.

What do you think . . . , Mary White started to say.

But I said
Sssh
for Aunt Cecelia was saying, The situation is rapidly becoming intolerable. Honestly I sometimes believe that my brother has lost his mind.

Then we arrived in front of the square two-story Masonic Lodge which was all lit up, every window blazing, luminaries placed at intervals from the road to the steps of the hall. Oh look! cried Mary White. For we were greeted at the door by a personage in a turban and a shimmering gold cloth wrap, whether man or woman I could not say. Kerosene lamps lined the wooden stage, and other huge lanterns hung on ropes, as dazzling as the sun. Beautiful music came down from the balcony where only a few candles glowed, so as not to take away from the tableaux. Every chair in town must have been gathered up for the audience, while we children sat on the floor at the front. Adeline and Ida complained.

Laydees and gentlemen!
The velvet curtain parted and out came Doctor Lambeth dressed in a top hat and tails. Everyone cheered. The ladys of the Hillsborough Relief Association welcome you to their Tableaux. You may rest assured that all proceeds from this event will go toward the care of the neediest among us, especially widows and orphans of the Confederacy.
And now, on with the show!
Doctor Lambeth bowed low to the crowd which screamed when two birds flew out of his upraised hat and swooped around the hall, finally to disappear in the vast dark shadowy balcony where the hidden musicians were playing dramatic music.

And now—Doctor Lambeths gray hair streamed down to his shoulders—And now, allow me to take you back in time to ancient Greece where we shall present The Nine Muses!

Two little boys dressed in red suits appeared at the center of the stage then went running back on each side to pull the heavy curtains open revealing a classical scene like an engraving from a mythology book. Everyone
in the audience gasped. Applause began and continued. The Muses did not respond to the cheers but held their poses perfectly, moving not a muscle. They looked like statues. White columns of varying heights stood at either side of this tableau, while the floor in front of the Muses was strewn with cunning cloth roses. Aunt Cecelia had edified us so much we all ready knew that the Muses were nine in number, daughters of Jupiter and the Goddess of Memory, Mnemosyne. We all ready knew their names too which were written out on placards in fancy printing.

Each white-gowned Muse had a placard propped up in front of her. Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry and Rhetoric, wore a Grecian war helmet over her long golden curls. One pretty hand rested on the short sword stuck in the rope at her waist, while she glared off to the side at some oncoming enemy army. Red spots gleamed on her cheeks. But the one I most wanted to be was Tragedy, who knelt in an attitude of misery and dispair. Her head was bowed so low that we could not even see her features. She wore a crown of myrtle leaves over her smooth black hair.

Polyhymnia, the Muse of Religious Hymns, held a songbook aloft and appeared to be singing vigorously. This meant that she had to stand still with her mouth wide open which is very hard, Mary White and I have since tried it. Plain red-headed Clio sat at a little spindly-legged writing desk wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, looking down at a huge thick book which said
HISTORY
across its cover. Erato, the prettiest, held one hand to her heart for she was the Muse of Love Songs.

The Muse of Lyric Poetry, Euterpe, appeared to be begging someone for something, arms outstretched, her face in anguish. The great fat girl who wore a jesters hat was Thalia, the Muse of Comedy. She looked like a big puffy cloud in her billowing dress. I poked Mary White and pointed, for Thalia was the best, really. You had to laugh when you looked at her. Urania was a serious round-faced girl who carried the moon in one hand and a little globe of the earth in the other. She is the Muse of Astronomy. Terpischore wore full white trousers and held a difficult dance pose, to everyones amazement. Immediately I wanted to be her, instead of Tragedy.

Everyone in the hall clapped, some crying out,
Bravo, bravo!
But the Muses did not move, or acknowledge the applause in any way, holding their attitudes. We all jumped to our feet, still clapping. Some wags called out things such as
Watch out there Lucinda, you are going to drop the moon!
Or
why so sad Betsy?
while others said,
Hush boys, hush!
We were directly in front of Tragedy who looked up once and gave us a wink. The curtain was drawn back together by the two little boys who had opened it, one of them stumbling over his own feet to the crowds delight.
Bravo
, they called out to him.

I just do not think a married woman should participate in something like this. It is not right! Aunt Cecelia said severely to the widow Brown while a lot of bumping and scraping went on behind the curtain as the association prepared for the next Tableau, advertised as
the death scene from Romeo and Juliet.
Mary White and I could not wait for this one, as we had read the entire play in preparation, and it promised to be even more tragic than Tragedy. There was scattered applause here and there as the Muses came out to join the audience.

Then the descending hush, then Doctor Lambeth bowed low and announced,
Romeo and Juliet, the Death Scene,
in a deep and serious tone. The fiddle wailed down from the balcony. Mary White and I held hands. This time, Calliope and Urania opened the curtain. We had to crane our necks to see, for a lot of this scene took place on the floor.

Now the columns supported an arch, the entrance to the Capulet tomb. Flares burned in sconces. There lay Romeo dead on his back, the vial of poison still in his hand. Fair Juliet, also dead, lay in a pool of crimson created by the skirt of her silk dress. The jeweled hilt of the dagger jutted up from her chest, catching the torchlight— later, Mary White and I figured out that she had thrust it under her armpit. But it looked perfectly real, exactly like she had stabbed herself. Another young man lay dead beside her.

That must be Paris, Mary White whispered pointing at this body whose sword lay at his side.