Authors: Ruth White

Weeping Willow (4 page)

BOOK: Weeping Willow

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I woke up with a start, my face numb. I sensed the lateness of the hour. Vern was standing in the kitchen doorway perfectly still, his face ashen.

“What is it?” I mumbled in confusion.

“She died,” he said.

“Who? What! Maw Mullins is dead?”

“She died at 9:34 p.m. Eastern Standard Time,” he said.

I never knew I could feel sorry for Vern. It was a brand-new sensation. He looked like a big kid standing there and I think he wanted to cry, but he didn’t remember how. I got up and walked over to him.

“I’m awful sorry, Vern,” I said, my voice cracking.

“Yeah, well …”

He just stood there, looking forlorn.

“Where’s Mama?” I asked.

“Paw asked her to stay and take care of the arrangements. And the young’uns went to sleep.”

“Well, are you hungry?”

“No, just put everything away, Tiny. I’m going to have a drink.”

Vern moved to the cabinet and took out a bottle of bourbon. He poured a jelly glass half-full and filled it up the rest of the way with water. Then he took his drink, walked out on the front porch, and sat down in the swing.

I set the potatoes and ham and peaches in the refrigerator and went upstairs. I put on my pajamas, then pulled down the windows because the night air was chilly. I was tired and fell asleep without even thinking again of Mr. Gillespie or of Maw Mullins.

I don’t know how long I slept when suddenly I came awake with a start. Something had jolted me, but I wasn’t sure what. Next I was aware of a smell—bourbon. I turned my head slowly, and there was Vern sitting on the side of my bed.

“Don’t be scared,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“What d’you want?” I said.

“I just want to touch you.”

I scooted backward to the other side of the bed.

“You better go on now, Vern,” I said, trying to sound calm.

He put out a hand toward me and I slipped to the floor opposite him. We looked at each other in the darkness. He was wheezing.

“Come on, Tiny,” Vern finally said, and started crawling drunkenly across my bed toward me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I flew around the end of the bed and out of the room. Vern had no reflexes left at all. I was down the stairs when I heard him call my name.

I groped my way through the living room in the dark and crawled behind the couch. Only then did I realize I was shaking all over. I hunkered down and hugged my knees against my chest.

“Tiny!”

He was at the top of the stairs. I held my breath. I heard nothing for a long time, and I imagined him standing in the dark listening. I began to breathe again very softly, my heart flying. Then I heard uneven footsteps going down the hall. Maybe he was going to bed. I sat there on the hard floor until my behind was numb and I had to move. I crawled out slowly, not making a sound. Then I crept up the stairs, and to my relief I could hear Vern snoring from his bedroom.

I tiptoed to my room, closed my door, propped a chair under the doorknob, and crawled under the covers, shivering. I slept only in bits and pieces the rest of the night, and dreamed of Willa. I woke up early thinking of her for the first time in a very long time.

I decided to go to school as usual, even though Mama would wonder what in the world I was thinking of to go to school at such a time. She would want me at home to help out. But I didn’t want to be alone with Vern, not ever again. And if I stayed, I would have to be alone with him until he went back up to Loggy Bottom. It didn’t matter if Mama got mad at me, I was going to school. And I knew I could never tell Mama what happened. It would kill her.

I washed, dressed, and combed my hair. I thought my face looked paler and plainer than usual. I went quietly down the stairs with my books and my clarinet. The house seemed cold and cluttered and very, very lonely. Then I slipped out the door.

I was the first one at the bus stop, and Cecil was surprised to see me when he came out.

“Hey, Tiny, you’re awful early.”

I didn’t say anything. I glanced up at my house to see if Vern was about, but the old house just hung there silently on the hill. It looked ugly. Suddenly, I hated it and I hated Vern.

“What’s the matter, Tiny?” Cecil said gently.

Our eyes met, and for a split second I had the feeling he knew everything that had happened. My face went hot. I turned my back to him and looked toward Ruby Mountain.

“Nothing” was all I said.

In band that day Mr. Gillespie had on short sleeves again, and when I looked at his arms I felt this great rush of shame. I felt guilty of something, but I had done nothing wrong. And I was oh, so sad. I wanted to go back to last week, to yesterday, before this hateful, hurtful thing robbed me of … of what? I didn’t know what, but something was gone from me. I wanted to be alone—to cry—to curl up with Willa and go back to being a little girl, and never grow up.

When the bus dropped me off at home I walked slowly up the hill. The pickup was parked under the porch, which meant Vern was there. I wondered if he was alone.

I dawdled.

I stopped to see Nessie. Maybe I would go to Aunt Evie’s.

“Boy, Mama’s mad at you,” I heard Phyllis say as she came up beside me.

I was relieved, but I didn’t speak to her. Phyllis followed me into the house. The boys were at the kitchen table and Vern and Mama were upstairs.

“What’s going on tonight?” I said to them.

“We’re going back to Paw’s,” Beau said. “How come you went to school when you didn’t have to?”

I didn’t answer.

There was a peck basket full of apples on the floor, and I took one. I knew they came from Maw and Paw’s place. They always had the best apples.

“Mama’s mad at you,” Phyllis repeated.

I still ignored her.

I sat down by Beau and bit into my apple.

“Tell me about last night,” I said to him.

“Tell you what? She died, that’s all,” Beau said.

“Was the doctor there?”

“No. You can die without a doctor, you know.”

He and Luther giggled.

“Well, did you see her die?”

“Nope. Just Daddy and Paw and Aunt Tootsie were in the room with her.”

“Did you see her after she died?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d she look?”

“Dead.”

The boys giggled again.

“Be serious, Beau Mullins!”

“I am serious!” he said. “She looked dead and she
was
dead! Ain’t that serious?”

“It was the same as when she was alive,” Luther volunteered. “Only she didn’t talk. I never saw her quiet before.”

We sat still for a moment, then exploded with laughter.

“Sh … sh …” I tried to shush them as I pointed to Mama and Vern’s bedroom.

We heard footsteps on the stairs, and all the merriment left my heart. I knew it was Vern. He came into the room, and I went on eating my apple without glancing at him.

“You can stay home tonight, Tiny,” he said. “If you want to.”

That was a surprise.

“Me too,” Phyllis said. “I don’t want to go to no wake.”

“Me neither,” Beau and Luther said together.

“No,” Vern said. “The rest of us have to go. But Maw didn’t treat Tiny right.”

That was a bigger surprise. I never thought Vern noticed.

“Well, anyway, Mama’s mad at Tiny,” Phyllis said for the third time, but this time everybody ignored her.

Vern spent most of his time with Paw Mullins the week after the funeral, so Mama played sick and stayed in bed. She wouldn’t get up for nothing or nobody, and I started thinking I didn’t like her. The kids went to school dirty and ran around the holler like a pack of wild dogs.

One chilly night I made bacon, eggs, and gravy for supper, and it was good, but I couldn’t cook much else, so we ate a lot of bologna. When Vern was home, I wouldn’t look at him, and I didn’t speak to him at all. He didn’t speak to me either without he had to. Mostly I stayed in my room when I wasn’t in school.

The big day for the telephone installation came. Mama got up to show where to run the line by the staircase in the hall downstairs, and the telephone man lectured us on telephone courtesy and proper usage.

When he left, we stood looking at each other and the black object, grinning. We each listened to the dial tone, and hung up the receiver. I decided to wait until the hall was clear to call Bobby Lynn and Rosemary and give them my number, which was 4054.

Our first call came while we were standing there admiring the telephone. It was four short rings, and Mama picked it up.

“Hello, this is the Vernon Mullins residence,” she said.

It was the telephone company checking out the line. When Mama hung up, we heard the rings for the other parties on our line—one long ring or three short rings or a combination of long and short rings.

Ruby Valley had joined hands with the rest of the U.S.A.

SEVEN

Aunt Evie asked me if I would help her put up apple butter on Saturday. The Hesses were supplying the apples, jars, sugar, and spices and a generous supply of apple butter for Aunt Evie if she would do all the work. Working with Aunt Evie was fun because she always told jokes and stories and kept me entertained, so I said yes.

No sooner was that settled when Bobby Lynn called me and said, “Let’s you and me and Rosemary go see
I’d Climb the Highest Mountain
next Saturday. It’s got William Lundigan and Susan Hayward.”

Gosh, I wanted to go with her, but how could I let Aunt Evie down?

So I told Bobby Lynn all about Aunt Evie, how everybody loved her and gave her stuff, that she got jilted, and she listened to your problems.

“Well, maybe I’d like to put up apple butter, too,” Bobby Lynn said, which like to have surprised me to pieces. “Did you ever think of that, huh?”

“You mean it, Bobby Lynn?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think Rosemary will come, too?” I asked.

“I’ll call her and see.”

At first I felt uneasy about Aunt Evie, so when I got off the phone I went up the hill to see what she thought of strangers invading her premises. I should have known it! Aunt Evie was tickled to death and she danced a jig right there in her kitchen.

“Hit’s just like when I was a girl! We did things like that all the time. We’ll build a big fire outside, and …”

She was off and running, laying plans for Saturday. The rest of the week we gathered wood and got together all the things we needed. She had a big black pot to cook the apples in, and from several kitchens we collected bowls and knives for peeling and slicing, and buckets for peels and cores.

Mr. Hess and Cecil brought the apples in baskets and put them in Aunt Evie’s back yard. I helped carry the jars, and Cecil’s little brothers and sisters pitched in and delivered the sugar and spices.

Saturday morning I woke up with this tune going
around in my head:

There once lived an Indian maid,
A shy little prairie maid,
Who sang a lay, a love song gay,
As on the plain she’d while away the day.

It was nerves. Every time I got nervous, some silly ditty started up in my head, and no matter what I did, it wouldn’t shut up.

What if Bobby Lynn and Rosemary were bored? What if they thought I was stupid and Aunt Evie was stupid and we lived in a stupid place on a stupid hill, and canning apple butter was a stupid thing to do on a Saturday?

She loved a warrior bold, this shy little maid of old,
But brave and gay, he rode one day to battle far away.

But one thing I did know and that was what to wear this time. Both Bobby Lynn and Rosemary said they were wearing their blue jeans and their daddy’s white shirts. I stole Vern’s only white shirt, and I didn’t care if he got mad at me. It was worth it. And from Rosemary’s daddy’s general store, for only sixty-nine cents each, Rosemary had bought us dog collars, which were the absolute rage at school. They were plastic, and you wore them around the top of your bobby socks on one ankle. Mine was yellow, Rosemary’s was red, and Bobby Lynn’s was green. I had rolled my hair tight, and when I brushed it out around my face, it looked all right.

The world outside was crisp and clear, the changing hills brilliant against a perfectly blue sky.

Bobby Lynn and Rosemary arrived about ten-thirty. Rosemary’s brother, Hassell, brought them in their daddy’s black Ford pickup. Hassell was sixteen and tall, with gray eyes like Rosemary’s and a shock of black hair almost hanging down into his eyes. He made me nervous, and my heart was flying, my mind racing. I was surprised when Hassell offered to carry the Cokes and Nabs that they had brought from their daddy’s store up to Aunt Evie’s. I steered the three of them quickly around my house, scared one of them might want to go in there. I knew Mama and Vern were still in bed, and the house and young’uns were a big mess as always.

Aunt Evie met us at her door as excited as a girl.

“You’re Rosemary,” she said. “Tiny told me you were tall and pretty. And here’s Bobby Lynn, looking like a doll. Tell me, Bobby Lynn, is Clint Clevinger your grandpa?”

“Why, he sure is. You know him?”

“I useter. Yeah, I useter. Don’t no more. And who is this handsome feller?”

“This is my brother, Hassell,” Rosemary said.

Then who do you think came up the hill at that very moment? Why, Cecil Hess!

“Hey,” he said cheerfully. “Hassell, I saw you, and I said to myself, ‘I bet me and old Hassell can get this show on the road.’”

Hassell grinned. Bobby Lynn giggled. She thought Cecil was the stuff. Then here came Beau, Luther, and Phyllis. I about died.

“Now, y’all just go on back home!” I stomped my foot at them. “Nobody invited you.”

Rosemary put her arm around Phyllis.

“Ain’t she cute?” she said.

Well, I’ll tell you one thing, she wouldn’t think she was so cute if she could hear her squealing in the A & P. But Phyllis had herself a hero on the spot. Beau and Luther latched on to Hassell like leeches, and nobody seemed to mind but me. Then Cecil’s brothers and sisters arrived one at a time. I was ready to chew off my fingernails. Directly, J. C. Combs, Joyce Boyd, and Dolly Horn came, and we all busted out laughing. It was a full-fledged party, and I was no longer in charge of anything. I could relax.

Pretty soon young folks packed Aunt Evie’s yard and spilled over into the woods. We were all peeling apples, laughing, and joking, while Aunt Evie flitted about, happy as a jaybird, hollering instructions.

The black pot sat over the fire right in the middle of the yard, and when she started adding the spices to those bubbling apples, the aroma was enough to make you foam at the mouth. We dipped out a bowl full of half-done apple butter and passed it around for everybody to sample on a piece of bread. It was good, and it whet our appetites for other refreshments.

Somehow we accumulated hot dogs, candy bars, potato chips, pickles, suckers, and bubble gum, and I don’t know what all else. It seemed every time we finished off one thing, something else appeared in its place. Cecil, J.C., and Hassell were running back and forth to the coal company store down the creek, and then the adults started coming with more food.

The Horns and the Hesses came first with a big cake and fresh apple cider. They helped us finish the apple butter, and we wound up with fifty-four quarts all in a row on Aunt Evie’s front porch.

Then the Combs family and Mama and Vern came with sandwiches and Kool-Aid. Mama was cleaned up, and she looked nice.

“This is my mother,” I introduced her to Bobby Lynn and Rosemary, and they said hey.

Vern just stood there expecting me to introduce him, too.

“And this is Vern,” I said quickly.

He was looking at me in his only white shirt that swallowed me whole. I turned my back to him and bounced away. He said hello to my friends, then wandered over to talk to Mr. Horn. I guess they talked about guns all afternoon. What can you say about a gun after a minute? They make a loud noise. What else can you say? They kill things. And not much else. Anyway, Vern had this ugly musket hanging on the wall in the living room right over that hole that used to be the fireplace. For a long time, Mr. Horn had coveted that gun to add to his collection. He had a whole bunch of guns, some of them rusty, some of them centuries old. He had used every trick in the book to get that gun from Vern, and nothing worked.

I noticed Hassell was following Dolly Horn around and she wasn’t paying any attention to him. She liked a boy from Princeton, West Virginia, who she met at 4-H camp. Cecil and Bobby Lynn seemed to be hitting it off I thought of Mr. Gillespie and wished with all my heart he was here, too. But putting up apple butter was probably the last thing in the world you would ever see him doing.

By suppertime the air had grown cool and Bobby Lynn, Rosemary, and I sat near the fire with Aunt Evie. We each had a wad of green bubble gum to work on, but mine was the biggest. Then Aunt Evie started telling us about Ward.

“I lived up Glory Holler back then on the side of a hill kinda like here,” she said. “And Ward lived down toward Harry’s Branch. When he came to court me, he yodeled. for me down the road, and you could hear him coming from a long ways off. When I’d hear him a-yodeling, I’d yodel back to him.”

“Can you yodel, Aunt Evie?” Rosemary and Bobby Lynn said together.

“Course I can yodel!”

“Oh, do it! Do it!” Bobby Lynn squealed. “I just love yodeling!”

And bless Pat if Aunt Evie didn’t stand up right there by the fire in the cool of the evening and yodel her head off! It sent chills right up my spine because I never did hear anybody yodel any better, not even Carolina Cotton in the movies.

People stopped whatever it was they were doing and looked at Aunt Evie and listened to her yodeling.

Now, you might not believe this, but I saw forty-six years fall off that old woman. I saw a young girl standing there yodeling to her beau, and I think others shared the same vision.

When she was finished, nobody moved or spoke because the echo was still bouncing off the hills. Then we applauded and cheered.

Bobby Lynn was speechless. She really did love yodeling, and I think she decided right then that Aunt Evie was going to teach her to yodel.

“I never heard the beat,” Rosemary said.

Aunt Evie just shrugged.

“Everybody nearabouts yodeled when I was a girl. Hit was a signal to say, ‘Here I come.’ Nowadays you just toot your old car horn. Ain’t near as pretty.”

As darkness came, we grew quiet, and started cleaning up. Bobby Lynn and Rosemary were the first to take their leave along with Hassell. I hated like the devil to see them go.

“Aunt Evie,” Bobby Lynn said, “I don’t know when I’ve had a better time.”

“Me too,” Rosemary agreed.

“Me three,” chorused the others.

“Well, you can thank Tiny,” Aunt Evie said and put an arm around me. “Hit was her doing.”

I was embarrassed, and I bent over and fiddled around with my dog collar.

That night I was so wound up I felt like I would never sleep again. Beside me Phyllis was out cold as I lay looking out at the moon over the hills.