Unto These Hills (22 page)

When Sheila realized Mama wasn’t coming to the door, the cursing began. Sheila’s profanity made Francine sound like a nun. She screamed obscenities at our mother till she was hoarse and drenched with sweat, till she foamed at the mouth, till she collapsed on that blasted mosaic porch in a heap of grief, crying her heart out.

That was when Francine and I, together, scooped her into our arms and took her to our cab. We gently placed her between us on the back seat and left the damnable mansion and any good memories that had survived Ruby Acklin’s initial abandonment. All the way to the bus station, Sheila, glassy-eyed and nearly incoherent, cursed ‘Ruby.’ For once, Francine wept with her.

And I thought, how tragic that it was something this terrible that provided them common ground.

~~~~~

We threw Nana an eighty-fifth birthday party at the Tucapau Methodist Church Fellowship Hall. With arthritis, she could hardly get around without assistance. Timmy’s and Noreen’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Gale, who was quite talented, sang the yodeling Western song,
I Want to Be a Cowboy’s Sweetheart
and brought down the house. Singing was the one thing on which Gale — diagnosed at seven with ADD — focused long enough to follow through. Otherwise, she was a tornado in the making.

“Poor Noreen always looks like she’s just two steps ahead of the undertaker,” Francine muttered as we cut homemade chocolate cakes to serve. “That Gale makes me thank the good Lord I don’t have any kids. I don’t see how Timmy and Noreen stand it.” She shuddered.

“Hey,” I nudged her, grinning hugely, “she’s
ours.

“
Don’t remind me,” she snapped and walked away to greet Doretha and Alvin. Their daughter, Tammy, rushed to join Gale, whose vigorous ambiance always attracted the fervent, heartier youth. Alvin’s only evident genetic transference to Tammy was the blonde one. From Doretha came the sweetness. The origin of Tammy’s exuberant spirit remained a mystery. She was the apple of her Gramma Tina’s eye. However, her gentle kindness was not spoiled by Aunt Tina’s obsessive adulation. Indeed, her reciprocal respect and affection for Aunt Tina encouraged me to take a second look at the woman who had, in days past, been unkind to me.

Nana huddled in a rocking chair, a pale, ancient little gnome who seemed to be in another time and place for the festivity’s duration. Only when spoken to did so much as an eyelash flicker separate her from the dead. That she was hugged and kissed endlessly, fawned over, and pandered to seemed not to impress her. Only when Timmy sank to his haunches to ask if she wanted to go home did any life spark the dried-apple features.

Five minutes later, as I said good-bye to the guests, I was thankful Nana had left before the racket started. When a familiar strident voice began to rise in anger, overriding the dwindling conversational cacophony, I grew alarmed. Immediately a knot formed in my stomach and I turned to meet it head-on.

Across the social hall, Aunt Tina shook her long, arthritic finger in Sheila’s face, fairly spitting out her diatribe. “You can’t be happy unless you’re tearing somebody down, can you?
You little slut
!”

Sheila’s lips slowly curved into feline smugness and my breath grew labored.
Dear God. What now?
I rushed to where they stood planted in sparring stance. “What’s going on?” I asked, noticing Doretha, pale as a specter, trembling, and Alvin, beside her, his flabby features a pasty green. Don’t know who looked closest to fainting. My alarm shrilled.

My gaze swung to Sheila, “What?” I asked sharply.

“She’s been tellin’ lies on Alvin,” Aunt Tina snarled under her breath, glaring at Sheila, “and I ain’t gonna have it, I tell you. What’re you grinning about, you
hussy
? I’ll wipe that smirk off your —” She lunged, claws bared. I managed, just in time, to block her, getting my foot stepped on in the process.

“Please, you two,” I implored, embarrassed beyond words, smarting from my aching toes. “Whatever you have to discuss, can’t you at least do it in private?”

“Ever’body’s gone.” Aunt Tina still tried to push me aside but I held my ground. She wasn’t as strong as she once was. “Tell that to
her
,” she tossed Sheila a killing look.
“She’s
the one who seems
hell-bent
on ruining good people’s names.”

Realization swept me. I looked at Sheila, who appeared elated at all the attention. “Sheila,” I groaned, “you didn’t?” I cast Alvin a glance and then gazed at her with dread.

The glitter in her eyes dimmed and she said, “It’s the truth, Sunny. I told you it was.”

“Sheila,” I said quietly, “Why now? Why this way? You’re hurting Doretha.” I glanced over my shoulder at my friend and the husband she’d taken on and changed and my heart broke for her.

“She don’t care a rat’s-ass about who she hurts,” Francine, bag slung over her shoulder, spoke over my shoulder. “At least she’s lettin’
me
rest for the moment.” She spun on her spike heels and made a hasty exit.

“Let’s go home, honey,” Alvin hesitantly ventured, taking Doretha’s arm and leading her to the door and out into the night. She walked like a sleepwalker, rigid yet swaying. Her husband wasn’t too steady either but he at least managed to steer her from bumping into anything.

“Dear God help us,” I muttered, turning back to see Aunt Tina snatch her red handbag from underneath a folding chair and hook it over her skinny shoulder. She marched back to launch herself at Sheila for one parting shot. “I’d better not hear another word of this,” she warned, rage quivering in her. “Else, I swear, I’ll
kill you.”

She exited on that grim note. I glanced around to see if anybody lagged behind and witnessed the ugly display. The place was deserted. The relief I felt was ridiculously at odds with the anxiety churning inside me.

“How did this happen?” I asked Sheila, whose eyes began to mist. Seemed when the audience left, so did her bravado.

She shrugged, shifting uneasily, loosing one periwinkle blue spaghetti strap of her silk mini dress. “I was just talking to Doretha and —” Tears spilled over. “She’s so understanding a — and I found myself telling her about the men who’d abused me and before I thought, Alvin’s name just — kinda
popped
outta my mouth, Sunny,” she ended on a bellow and fell into my arms.

I understood all too well how it had happened…Doretha’s empathy…Sheila finding in her a sympathetic ear…the spotlight, mouth running away.
Vintage Sheila.

“Oh, honey,” I whispered, sliding my arms around her. “What have you done?”

~~~~~

I dreamed about Daniel again that night. I awoke, moaning with longing. As Walter slept, I slipped from the bed and retreated to the den sofa with my pillow and a Catherine Cookson novel. But the words blurred.

I lay the book aside and let my mind drift back to the Christmas Daniel visited Doretha, when Muffin was six and Libby, four. He’d managed to avoid me till, on the last day of his visit, as I walked to the Company Store for bread and milk, we happened up on each other on the back alley. At first, I saw something like panic brush his face. Then, it was gone. It wasn’t in Daniel to retreat from a threat. I knew that and used it. The need to hear his voice, to look into his eyes, pierced and overwhelmed me. I didn’t swerve as he drew near and steadily met his unreadable gaze.

Suddenly, we were face to face. He didn’t, as I’d feared, try to brush past me but stopped close enough that I could smell his Aqua Velva
.
His hands were jammed in his black overcoat pockets. The day was uncommonly cold and I wore a long, blue wool coat and matching gloves. My hair, still short but fuller, rustled in the arctic wind.

We gazed into each other’s eyes for endless moments, until tears welled along my lower lids, then slowly spilled over and trickled my cheeks.

“One question, Sunny,” Daniel said so softly I barely heard him.

I blinked and swiped the tears with my gloved hand. “What?” God, I still loved him so much it felt my heart was being ripped from my chest, that I was drowning in air and space.

“Are you happy?” His face softened and I nearly fainted from the impact of the concern that painted his chiseled features, more defined, more breathtakingly male than ever.

I peered at him, uncertain how to answer that. “I — I feel blessed to have two lovely daughters,” I whispered, which was true.

He waited for more. Then, seeing none forthcoming, asked, “Is Walter good to you?”

I nodded. Not trusting myself to speak, for fear I’d fall upon his broad chest in turbulent tears of grief for our lost years.

Still not satisfied, he gazed even more deeply into my eyes, so near his minty breath warmed my face. “Do you love him, Sunny?”

I took a deep breath, feeling faint with emotion. “I love Walter, Daniel, for being so good to me and — and the girls. But I’m not in love with him.” I finished on a whisper, feeling a twinge of guilt for voicing it. Only a twinge. “I never was.”

Emotions played over Daniel’s face, powerful ones, like a kaleidoscope of vivid mosaics flashing so swiftly they’re not decipherable but stunningly majestic. Slowly, one hand slid from a pocket and lifted to my face, where an index finger caressed my cheek so gently I turned my face into his hand, capturing it against my shoulder, closing my eyes and savoring the love I felt pouring from his pores.

“It’s hell,” he murmured hoarsely. I nodded as fresh tears spilled onto his hand. I kissed the palm, now callus-free. He whispered, “Sunny, you know folks might see us together, don’t you?” He inclined his midnight head to both sides of the well-trodden path, where windows gave access to our drama.

“I don’t care,” I groaned, meaning it for the first time in my life. “That’s why I lost you, Daniel — caring what folks thought.”

“You just think you don’t care. But you do,” he said gently, understanding. Knowing my very makeup.

I looked up at him then, still holding tightly to his hand. His eyes mirrored my own anguish. “Don’t blame yourself, Sunny. It was my fault. I let you down in the worst way. I’ve died a thousand deaths in the past six years regretting —”

“Shh.” I placed my fingers over his mouth. “It simply happened. Life stacked everything against us, Daniel. Even God didn’t care.”

He looked as though he was going to cry. He captured my hands in both his. “Sunny, I can’t believe you said that. Don’t ever give up your faith. That’s one of the things that made you so special.”

“Too late, Daniel.” I gave him a rueful, lopsided smile. “I don’t believe in dreams any longer.”

“My God,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes, “what have I done to you?”

“Daniel,” I heard an edge creep into my voice, “stop that. I screwed up pretty well on my own, thank you.”

He looked as though he’d take me in his arms. I keened for him to hold me. He swallowed and, with great effort, released my hands.

“Is — has there been anybody in your life since me, Daniel?” I asked, fearing yet needing to know. He hesitated, then nodded. My heart sank.

“I lived with someone for a couple of years. But we didn’t have what you and I had.” He gazed into my eyes. “Seeing you makes me tremble. Still, after all this time.” His eyes blazed for a moment before he looked away. “She and I split a long time ago. In service, traveling helps keep me busy, unconnected with my feelings.”

I raised my brows and laughed, startling him a bit, I think. “Feelings?
Feelings?
I haven’t felt anything since you left, Daniel. My emotions are as dead as that tin can lying there.”

I saw moisture gather in his eyes. “Sunny —”

“Until now,” I whispered. “For the first time in six years, I feel. And y’know, I don’t like it.” I brushed past him and didn’t look back.

Tonight, lying on the sofa, unable to sleep, I realized that, aside from those moments with Daniel, I’d not felt that stir of passion since the day he left me to join the Army.

~~~~~

“Lord, as I live and breathe,” Gladys swept me into her arms and hugged me like no tomorrow. “Come on in, Sunny.” She led me through her tiny, neat, four-room cottage and settled me in an easy chair that’d seen its best day, then seated herself opposite me in one just as worn, but clean.

“Oh, Gladys, I didn’t think I’d ever find you. Nobody knew where you’d moved,” I said, exultant that I’d finally tracked her down after all these years — only a few miles from the village. So near yet so far. Her lips, still supple, curved into a smile that spelled
at peace.
The brown eyes glimmered with love and acceptance — had they ever stopped?

I felt a pang of grief that I’d avoided her for so long. Age sat well upon her. Silver laced her black hair, now loosed from its Pentecostal bun and bobbed becomingly. The only mar to her slenderness was a little potbelly, but even that fit her well.

“You’re beautiful,” I said, meaning it from the bottom of my heart.

“So are you, Sunny.”

We gazed at each other, our eyes moist, reliving years of affection and closeness that defied analysis or elucidation. Then I dropped my gaze to my protruding stomach. “I’m just a little bit more porky,” I said and chortled.

“On you, it looks great, Sunny,” Gladys said with utter conviction. “Skinny as you was, you could afford a little more meat.”

“Try thirty pounds,” I said and laughed as though it didn’t bother me. Truthfully? At that point, it didn’t matter that much. I’d not really computed its significance. That would come later.

“How have you been?” I asked, “What’s been happening?”

“Well, you know Harly died, don’t you?”

I nodded, dropping my gaze. “I’m sorry,” I said, a half-lie. “It must have been hard for you afterward.” The words sounded empty even to me.

“Not really,” Gladys said in her forthright way, yet not unkindly. “You know I’m married again, don’t you?”

I looked at her. “
Get outta here
! To who?”

“To Harly’s brother, Vince. He’s the good one in the family, the one I named my Vince after. Well, after Harly died, Vince — whose wife died five years back — he stepped in to help me all he could. He’s totally opposite Harly.” She smiled like a teenager and I found myself grinning all over myself. If anybody deserved a break in life, it was this woman.