My Old True Love (11 page)

By the time my eyes had lost the light from the door, they was nobody out there but me.

T
HERE WOULD BE NO
broom jumping for Mary Chandler. She let on that it was on account of her religion, but I believe she figured that if she finally had Hackley hemmed up and headed in the right direction she was going to make sure that everything was done right. She did not even want much drinking to go on, but I told her she might as well put that to rest. I had seen it where the man what was getting married had to be held up on either side and poked in the ribs when it was time for him to take the vow. They was nobody what got married that didn’t do it in front of folks what had been drinking. That is just the way it was done. She did raise enough hell with her daddy and brothers and with Hackley to where nobody got really drunk until after the church service, which I told her was four steps beyond what I would have thought Hackley would agree to anyway.

I have never in all my life seen such a crowd as come out for their marrying. Hackley had been all around playing the fiddle and it seemed like everybody that he’d ever played with, or for, come that day. The church was full and people stood all around out in the yard. It is a good thing we was having a weather breeder that day and it was fairly warm. To show you how little Hackley knew about things,
he went and asked Larkin to be his best man. Mary asked Julie to stand up with her, and you have never seen a happier bridesmaid. I was very proud of Larkin. At least for this one day he managed to bury his feelings way down deep. I was probably the only one that noticed that muscle that kept jumping about knotting up in his jaw.

Maggie was
not
invited.

It come a big snow that next day but that did not slow us down one bit. It actually made for a real good time. We loaded up on sleds and went all around and about singing and cutting up and there was a frolic at somebody’s house every night for a solid week.

Maggie had a big dance at her place, and Hackley and Mary were
not
invited. Poor Maggie. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of how this was probably the only night those two had had by themselves since they’d married.

Larkin had a big time and got pretty drunk and danced every dance with Maggie. If they was a single solitary soul who had not known about them before all this, they was not one now. Some folks called it a scandal because she was so much older than him. I did not think it so, but I surely did feel sorry for the lot of them. Everything was all mixed up with everybody wanting somebody else and having to make do with what they could get, and that is not a good way to do business of the heart.

N
OW YOU MIGHT BE
saying, What is wrong with this here woman Arty? Did Hackley and Mary not marry in the beginning of the year 1861? Is this Arty a blithering idiot? How could she not know what was going on down off the mountain in South Carolina and Georgia and all points south? Is she just a simple-minded person who only knowed how to gossip and pick in everybody’s business and
not mind her own? And to all that I will say this: No, I was not blind then, or deaf, and we all knowed what was happening all around us. But you must understand it had not come for us yet. We were just people living a hard life and getting by. The men would knot up together and talk. But that was all it was then. Just talk, and some little words on a piece of newspaper somebody would bring in from Warm Springs or Marshall. Why, to us Charleston might as well have been up on the moon. Our biggest sin, I reckon, was being innocent, but we would get well over that. South Carolina proved a whole lot closer to us than we ever thought it would.

A
ND JUST IN CASE
you’re interested, I did find myself in the family way for the seventh time. And I knew somehow that this one was a girl and I allowed that I would name her Pearl.

S
O THAT WINTER PASSED
just like every other one we’d ever lived through. I was not sick a single day, and Zeke said I had never been prettier in my life than I was then. That is how I recall that spring. I felt so good and was strong as a mule.

Mommie was pleased as could be with her new daughter-in-law, which I must say might have in itself been reason enough for me to be hard on Mary. These are Mommie’s own words: “I am so glad Hackley did not get trapped up with one of them old road whores in spite of all them what was after him.” I flew mad at that because though she did not mention any names I knew she was meaning Maggie. But I just felt too good to argue with her so I did not. I did, however, pick just that time to tell her I was breeding again and must admit I went to feeling even better when that big grin dropped off and she went back to looking all pinched up with that smell-something-bad look.

So I was not at all ready for my feelings about Mary to start softening up when I went over there to help her cook when Hackley had his barn raising toward the end of March. But soften up they did. Her little place was as neat as a pin, and you could tell she was really trying to be a good wife and she seemed as happy as a little girl with red shoes on. It did not hurt one bit that she was courting my affections either. She asked my advice a dozen times in that one day, and I could not help it if that went to my head and by the time supper was on the table me and her was laughing and talking like old pals. While we was washing up I told her I was expecting, and, oh, how wistful her face got with the news. She said, “I want to have Hackley’s babies more than anything in this world, Arty.” And I laughed and said, “You ought to be enjoying the time you have with just him, honey. The babies will start and then they’ll just keep coming and coming.” Later in mine and her life we would talk about that conversation and each and every time her face would carry that same look. I would reckon she thought about it right up till when she died. They would be just the one child born to her that was my brother’s. And that would end like so much in life what turns out to be sweet as honey and bitter as gall at the same time.

But during that spring I decided that whatever had come before might as well be forgiven and forgotten, and me and her put together a good friendship that weathered well the rest of our lives. I cannot help but believe that if things had just been allowed to go their natural course and times had not changed for us in the awful way they did, I would surely not be telling this tale. But telling it I am, for the times they did change.

It come a big wet snow right about the time the sarvice trees were blooming, and some of it was still on the ground when Larkin come by the house. He was on his way over to help Hackley do some fencing. He was looking fine as snuff and twice as dusty, which means he was a big pretty man. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face when I said, “And how is Miss Maggie getting on?” And he blushed plumb to the roots of his hair and mumbled that she was fine. I had high hopes then that maybe he was moving beyond his old feelings for Mary and I felt a debt of gratitude in my heart for Maggie. As soon as the sun climbed high enough, I told Larkin I had to go let the cows out and he said he’d walk that far with me and then he probably needed to get on over the hill. I linked my arm through his and we strolled along looking at how green everything was. I found the first violets peeping out of the grass along the path to the barn, and we talked about how he used to pick them for me and put them in the water bucket where I’d be sure to see them.

Up in the day I took my littlest young’uns and crossed the ridge myself to see Mary. We set on the porch talking, and I thought,
It does not get much better than this.
There was a little breeze playing about the yard and the sun felt so warm and the young’uns were just drunk with it all. Larkin and Hackley come in and we all set for a while just watching the young’uns. Then Larkin asked if we’d heard they was having a big politicking over at Laurel on Thursday. I allowed that me and Zeke were aiming to go and Mary said her and Hackley was too. I said we ought to go camping and stay all night and they all allowed what a fine idea that was. We flew to making us some plans and by the time I got up to go home, I was looking forward to a big time. I wished Zeke Jr. had not come running to me crying with a
skinned elbow. Then I would not have reached over in that water bucket for a handful to wash it off with. But things happen for a reason, even if we do not know what it might be. All I know is that when I brought my hand out, it was covered with violets and I did not even have to think twice’t about who might have put them there.

I
COULD NOT BELIEVE
how many people were on the roads that Thursday and every one of them heading for Shelton Laurel. By the time we got there the big cleared field beside the store was already full of wagons, horses, and mules. And the whole place was just throbbing with hundreds and hundreds of people. And this was a rare thing in the spring of the year. Any other year would have found us at the house working in the fields, so they was a right festive air with everybody wanting to visit. Men was standing around clumped up in little groups, talking and waving their arms around while they did it. Us women left them to it and clumped up ourselves. And a thousand sweating young’uns was wild as bucks running and winding their way through what must’ve looked like a forest of legs. Carolina’s eyes was as bright as new pennies, and when she found Sophie Rice she squealed and grabbed her hand and said “Let’s pretend we’re two blind girls” and they went staggering off like two drunks. I hollered after them that they’d better keep their eyes wide open if they knowed what was good for them. She was the only one of my bunch that took off but then she always was one that could not be still. Abigail flew right into helping me set up camp while the little ones stood looking about with great big eyes. I said, “John Wesley, quit standing there like you’ve took root and help your sister.” I guess my voice must have got that tone to it that makes Zeke nervous because he said, “Arty,

honey, why don’t you go get what all we need at the store.”

It took me forever to finally get down there because they was so many folks I knew. I could not go any more than a step or two when somebody would holler out, “Arty, Arty, come over here a minute.”

When I finally made it, who did I meet coming through the door but Larkin. Him being way taller than me, I was asking him to look out there and tell me who he could see. Of a sudden this big, red-faced man come jostling his way up onto the top step, elbowing everybody out of the way. It was only when he nodded at me and I saw his big round bald head that I knew him to be the great preacher Lester Lydell. Back when he was young and more slender he would take a run-a-go and jump clear over the pulpit, but he was not so young now nor was he slender, so I reckon his jumping days was over. He could still talk a good preaching though. “Brothers and sisters, God spoke to me in a dream. He said to me, ‘Preacher, you get out yonder and deliver my message. I didn’t call you to set around and say nothing. I called you to preach.’ Clear as a bell I heard Him say what I’m saying now. He says we are to leave the Union, separate ourselves from the heathens in the North. God would be on our side if we leave. If we stay in it’d be a sin and disobedience. They’ll be punishments heaped upon us if we don’t heed his wishes.”

Just then a great flood of people come pouring out of the store and he got caught up in them, and the last I saw of him he was waving his Bible in the air still preaching while being carried along by the tide.

Larkin laughed and I did, too. Oh, it was a wonderful day we was having. I turned around still laughing and come smack up against Vergie Hensley. She was as round as could be and had on an orange dress and what went through my mind was,
Oh, how much like a punkin she

looks,
but what come out my mouth was, “Why, howdy, Vergie.”

Her eyes was all glassy-looking and they sort of slid over my face and then they fastened themselves right onto the front of Larkin’s britches and they did not move the whole time we stood there talking. I swear to you that this is no lie, and I thought to my never that I was going to bust wide open I wanted to laugh so bad. I just kept on talking asking her questions about her young’uns, if Maggie was there, when was the last time she’d seen Mommie. I was talking about anything just to see how long she would stand there staring right at Larkin. Finally I said, “Larkin and me have to go, Vergie,” and I took him by the arm and pulled him off the porch.

When we got around the corner, I fell against him just dying and all he could do was shake his head. “What do you reckon that was all about?” I said, “I reckon she’s heard you like them older women, honey.” And he said, “Not that damn old,” which set me off to laughing again. We was standing there laughing so hard we was crying when Mommie come around the corner. She come bustling up calling out, “Arty, you, Arty,” and she looked and sounded so much like Granny it come near to taking my breath away. I could not help myself, I started to just bawling. “Don’t pay me no never mind,” I said to Larkin. “I am just some woman who is bigged.”

You would have thought I had stuck Mommie with a hot poker the way she sucked in her breath. “Arty Wallin, don’t talk about such to him.”

I said, “Why not? Is this not a grown man here that has seen me in the family way before?”

I will spare you further details. Suffice to say it was like a thousand other arguments that me and Mommie somehow managed to get into every time we caught a whiff of one another.

• • •

A
FTER WE’D EATEN
I wandered over to where Mary was talking to Gracie Franklin and Patsy Bowman. And for all of you that thinks Arty’s big nose must be stuck in everybody’s business, I must tell you that I had not heard the story what was being told.

“Clemmons just up and left,” Gracie was saying. I reckoned they must be talking about Red Boyce’s son since he was the only Clemmons I knew. “He come in one evening and throwed a big fit. Lindy had been to the barn and already done the milking. Had her buckets setting on the table and he took his arm and swiped bucket, milk, and all right off into the floor. They ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Lindy’s having an awful time of it, they say.”