On Agate Hill (20 page)

June 21, 1873

Oh Diary,

Something else is happening now I can not stop it nor do I want to, it is Nicky Eck touching me up under my clothes first my breasts when he came
upon me in the passage last night with no one present then again in the kitchen this morning where I worked at the stove he came up from behind and pushed himself against me I could feel him through my skirt I dropped an egg I can not tell you how I feel I can tell no one but it is the opposite of ghosts, that is for sure! He breathed in my ear, it sent shivers all down my body, I have thought about it all day long. He said,
You like that dont you darling.
No one has ever called me darling before as in a poem but I hate it, I hate Nicky Eck. Stop it! I am going to tell Selena, I said, but he said,
No you wont, you wont tell Selena or anybody else.
And he is right. I will not.

Now he is gone again. I took Blanche and Godfrey down to the river today where we made a dam in the shallows by the Willow House and I showed them how to sail magnolia leaf boats. It was a lot of fun but I didnt tell them anything not about the Willow House itself nor the people who live there nor the fairy ring which is gone from the woods now nor anything else that me and Mary White used to do. And all the time my mind was spinning above my head as it is doing right now. Nicky Eck has three moles on his cheek. He says,
You like that dont you darling? You are a bad girl.
He stood on the upper piazza watching us walk back up the lane from the river, I knew my shirt was sticking to my chest. Nicky Eck smoked a cigarette saying nothing.

June 25, 1873

Dear Diary,

I am hiding up here from Nicky Eck, it is the only place in the world he can not find me. It is real hot. I have been in here for a long time. But I dont care how hot it gets I will not come out. I am considering the items in my collection of phenomena one by one, I love to do this, but most of all I am remembering. I am remembering everything.

Today I turned back to read the beginning of this Diary in which Nora Gwyn urged me to
set down upon these pages your own memories of your lovely mother and your brave father, and of your three brothers as well, and of all that has befallen you
. Well I see that I have not done this exactly, I
have not written about them so much, but now I will do so, for they are stuck in time as I am stuck in here so I will write some Tableaux Vivants for my family too.

Mamma

Mamma sits on a rock by a campfire deep in the swamp holding me. I am very little. It is nearly midnight. She left Perdido the night before under cover of darkness ahead of the Yankees, rumors were flying, slaves turning on their masters. Mamma is trying to get to Columbia, to cousin Sudies house in town. Everything she has is in the wagon pulled up into the oak grove hidden by bushes and hanging moss. It is dangerous to have even this little fire built by Virgil. Mamma is
on the very verge of starvation!
as she will tell me again and again but then Virgil catches three fish which twist flashing silver in the moonlight and Bess fries them up in the skillet right there over the open fire. Nothing has ever tasted so good, it was the most delicious supper I have ever eaten in my_entire life, why that was the sweetest fish, she will say, telling me how she picked out the bones and mashed up little bites for me, how much I loved it too. As we eat we can hear the bullfrogs and the peepers and now and then a splash out in the lagoon which gives us all a start and then later, toward morning, the hoot owls way back in the trees.

Bess brushes Mammas hair with my grandmothers silver brush. It has fancy initials engraved on it ELH for Eleanor Logan Heart, I used to trace them over and over with my finger. Mama was determined to bring that brush and the French pier glass mirror with her at all costs. Bess brushes Mammas hair which is long and honey colored, stroke after stroke. Mammas curls spring up from the brush. It has all come down during the journey.
My hair is just a rats nest!
Mamma says.
There now honey,
Bess says brushing and brushing to calm Mamma down. Mamma has always been
kindly nervous.
She has never brushed her own hair. The moonlight shines on the silver brush and on Mammas hair, it makes a shining path straight to us across the still water of the lagoon.

This is the most beautiful night Mamma has ever seen. She does not sleep a wink,
not a wink!
her heart is too full of fear and a strange excitement, she can not describe it. For so long she has been
confined by the duties of her station and an indescribable longing for something
she knew not what. But now, anything could happen to her. Anything. My mamma will remember this night forever, the sweet sweet taste of that fish and the moonlight on the water, she will tell it again and again.

Papa

Papa is Captain of Company C the Edgefield Hussars who form up in front of the Planters Hotel on the public square the glorious morning of June 6, 1861, before they ride off to join Hamptons Legion. Papa wears a red jacket and a white plume, he rides his great black stallion Beau who will be shot out from under him at Brandy Station. Papas long yellow hair falls down past his ears.
He is a vain and quick-tempered man with a certain lack of judgment, yet great charm
, in the words of Aunt Mitty who had no use for glory or charm either one. Papa has a handsome reckless face. He sits his horse like a cavalier. He has lived here all his life, man and boy, he has scarcely been out of this state. Everyone in town is there to see them off including a
lovely array of beautiful women,
as it says right here in this clipping. There is food and music and flags waving.

Captain M. C. Butler says Ladys and Fellow Countrymen. In these ranks many of you have sweethearts, brothers, and husbands, and we go to the tented fields in the defense of our homes and fireside against the invasion of the hireling foe. We will go to the front remembering that we are all Carolinians, and we will return as honored soldiers or fill a soldiers grave. It is ours to act and not to speak. You will hear from us! Farewell!

Papas heart is swelling. It is the moment he has longed for all his life, for he is a famous horseman and the best shot in the county. He would not miss this war for anything. Later in camp he will write a poem named The Tented Field which will be printed in newspapers all over the country including the
Edgefield Examiner then clipped and folded and carefully saved in Mammas lavender silk purse along with all these other clippings I have here now in my collection of phenomena. Papa will be shot through the ear at Pocataligo, wounded in the leg by a minié ball at Hawes Shop, and finally killed at Bentonville where he will be
blown to smithereens
by a bursting shell then gathered up in pieces and buried beneath a green willow tree as in a ballad. He would have liked that, Uncle Junius said.
Bloody symbolic fool
.

Willie

Willie sits up on a pillow at the table for Sunday dinner at Agate Hill. He is small for his age but very grown up in other ways, he cocks his head to listen like a little bird. Uncle Junius calls him
the Judge
. Willie has a high solemn forehead and round blue eyes and long yellow curls, no one can bear to cut them. This is as old as he will get. He looks like an angel already.

Spencer brought him a little black puppy found on the side of the road. Why how in the world will we feed it? Fannie said. We cant even feed the people on this place! But then she relented of course and now the puppy follows him everywhere. Willie has named him John.

I just never heard of a dog named John, Julia said. Why dont you name him Midnight or Blacky or something like that?

His name is John,
Willie said.
He was BORN John
which tickled everybody.

Now Willie has been sick and he is very thin while John grows bigger and bigger. I am the only one who knows that Willie is feeding John his own food under the table.

•  •  •

June 27, 1873

Dear Diary,

I just realized that May 20 my birthday has come and gone so I will not have it this year of our Lord nor ever again no one knows it but me anyway, no one will ever remember it. So I will be like a slave, they have no birthdays either, all their birthdays are January first, that was market day too. It will be my birthday from now on.

July 2, 1873

Dear Diary,

This is the last time I will ever be here in my cubbyhole the last time I will gaze at the world through my chink in the wall or sit in this little chair or consider my collection of phenomena or write in this book given to me by nice Nora Gwyn who would die to know what has become of me, so would Fannie. They seem like ladys in a story to me now.

Here is what happened.

Selena sent me to the barn to look for eggs yesterday morning. I am the best at finding them but while I was in there Nicky Eck came I guess he followed me and pushed me down in the straw and did the things he does to me but do not worry Dear Diary for I was not really there anyway I was up in the hayloft looking down and thinking
Why look at that!
When in came Spence with a pitchfork he stuck it into Nicky Eck making a row of bloody little holes all up and down his back which has moles on it too. It was comickal but horrible at the same time. Nicky Eck did not die of course but screamed like a pig and ran out of the barn then Spence was carrying me like he used to do when I was little and we played Take a Trip and then we were back up at Agate Hill where, guess what?

Surprise! Simon Black had arrived in a carriage with a brown-haired young lady wearing spectacles. He helped her down then stood in the lane
with his black hat in his hands and the sun beating down on us all and said very formal-like, Good morning Molly Petree, allow me to introduce Miss Agnes Rutherford, a teacher at Gatewood Academy which you will be attending immediately, as ordered by Judge Draper, for you are now a ward of the court. I have the papers right here. It is all arranged.

But the young lady rushed forward and said,
Why good heavens Mister Black, something is terribly the matter here
, just as Nicky Eck burst out of the woods and Selena began to scream.

So I will be going away now Dear Diary.

I will be going to the Gatewood Academy.

I do not care that the fairy ring is gone from the woods now I do not care that I am leaving my ghosts I am such a bad girl I do not care about anything

Notes from Tuscany

INFANT CATECHISM

[Is this depressing or what? —TM
]

Q. Who made you?

A. God

Q. Of what did he make you?

A. Dust

Q. For what were you made?

A. To be good

Q. Where do good children go?

A. They go to heaven when they die.

Q. Where do bad children go?

A. They go to hell.

Q. Who loves good children?

A. God, and all good people

Q. Who loves bad children?