I’m the daughter who was born first, talked first and left first before the poverty that stuck to the rest of them could seep into my skin, below my fingernails and trap me permanently in that circle of snuff dipping, onion peeling, bible reading, egg collecting, tobacco tying, crab picking, whiskey drinking, hard fighting, varicose veined women that were my aunts and cousins and grandmamas back to the time when the first Foreman woman squeezed out the first squalling baby girl onto the muddy banks of Pungo Creek and the first Foreman husband said “Okay, woman, now that’s done, get up and fix my dinner and while you are at it check on that stove” and she got up an put her squalling baby in the bottom drawer of the dresser she had lined with quilting pieces and flour sacks and let her howl while she put the fat back in the cast iron spider and put it on the stove that was going just fine and put her hands on her hips that were holding up the stained blue checked apron and wondered to herself how in the hell she had ended up a wife and mother at 15 years old and how in the hell she was going to stand living with that man until death released her and they put her in the dirt behind Sidney Cross Roads Free Will Baptist Church.Prologue
I’m the daughter who was born first, talked first and left first before the poverty that stuck to the rest of them could seep into my skin, below my fingernails and trap me permanently in that circle of snuff dipping, onion peeling, bible reading, egg collecting, tobacco tying, crab picking, whiskey drinking, hard fighting, varicose veined women that were my aunts and cousins and grandmamas back to the time when the first Foreman woman squeezed out the first squalling baby girl onto the muddy banks of Pungo Creek and the first Foreman husband said “Okay, woman, now that’s done, get up and fix my dinner and while you are at it check on that stove” and she got up an put her squalling baby in the bottom drawer of the dresser she had lined with quilting pieces and flour sacks and let her howl while she put the fat back in the cast iron spider and put it on the stove that was going just fine and put her hands on her hips that were holding up the stained blue checked apron and wondered to herself how in the hell she had ended up a wife and mother at 15 years old and how in the hell she was going to stand living with that man until death released her and they put her in the dirt behind Sidney Cross Roads Free Will Baptist Church.
Letting Go
Clara pulled in the oars, scrambled up to the front of the boat and threw the anchor over the side. It made a loud splash and probably scared away all the fish within a half acre. But they’d left their fishing poles behind so it didn’t matter.
“She’d be sorry if I was dead. If I was drowned she’d be sorry she hit me all the time.”
“If you were dead it wouldn’t matter because you wouldn’t be around to watch her be sorry.”
“It would if I was a ghost. I would come back and haunt her to the end of her days. I’d tap-tap-tap on her window at night and push the back porch swing….” Clara frowned and wiped her eyes.
“Come on, Clara. Do you really think there’s any such thing as a ghost? I mean, what if there isn't and you go and drown yourself and that’s it? You’re just drowned.”
“The way I’m feeling right now, Ivy, I’d be willing to take a chance. I don’t see how being dead can be any worse than…” She stopped.
“Worse than what?”
Instead of answering Clara stood up and brought her hands up in front of her like she was praying. “Remember when I got baptized and Reverend Linton said I died and was born again – that I came back to life? He dipped me down in this very creek.” She closed her eyes and just stood there in the front of the skiff.
Ivy studied her sister... She thought Clara looked a little like the angels in her Bible stories. Her curly blond hair framed her face. She was even dressed like an angel. Like always, Clara was wearing one of her good dresses instead of the worn out shorts that Ivy always wore.
“Clara, I don’t know why you insist on wearing your good clothes to go fishing in. You’re just going to mess that dress up and Mama is going to fuss about having to wash and iron it.” Ivy squirmed in her seat. This had gone on long enough. She eyed the bag that held their lunch.
“Quit kidding around, Clara. Sit down before you fall overboard I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
“I’m not kidding around. I’m praying. Be quiet.”
Ivy watched as sister raised her arms up to the sky and began to speak in a passable impersonation of Reverend Linton. “If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.”
“Amen. Brother Ben. Shot at a rooster and killed a hen.” Ivy countered. “You’re nutty, Clara. I am going to eat my sandwich.”
Ivy opened the brown paper bag that held their lunch - two banana sandwiches on Sunbeam bread. She wiped her hands on her shorts, unwrapped her sandwich and placed it on the waxed paper that she had spread carefully on her lap. She was just about to bite into it when she heard the splash.
Clara let go of the side of the skiff and allowed herself to sink into the brackish water of Pungo Creek. Her hair floated around her head catching the light that still streamed through the Carolina pines. Her eyes were open. Little bubbles escaped from her nose and gurgled to the surface.
Clara caught hold of the anchor rope and pulled herself to the bottom. Then she set the anchor on her stomach so she wouldn’t float to the surface and she waited. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer she breathed in the creek water. For a second she almost gave in and pushed off the anchor, but she just kept remembering Reverend Linton dipping her in the water. It was just like being baptized. She felt Pungo Creek just flowing into her body and then all the fear left her.
“She’d be sorry if I was dead. If I was drowned she’d be sorry she hit me all the time.”
“If you were dead it wouldn’t matter because you wouldn’t be around to watch her be sorry.”
“It would if I was a ghost. I would come back and haunt her to the end of her days. I’d tap-tap-tap on her window at night and push the back porch swing….” Clara frowned and wiped her eyes.
“Come on, Clara. Do you really think there’s any such thing as a ghost? I mean, what if there isn't and you go and drown yourself and that’s it? You’re just drowned.”
“The way I’m feeling right now, Ivy, I’d be willing to take a chance. I don’t see how being dead can be any worse than…” She stopped.
“Worse than what?”
Instead of answering Clara stood up and brought her hands up in front of her like she was praying. “Remember when I got baptized and Reverend Linton said I died and was born again – that I came back to life? He dipped me down in this very creek.” She closed her eyes and just stood there in the front of the skiff.
Ivy studied her sister... She thought Clara looked a little like the angels in her Bible stories. Her curly blond hair framed her face. She was even dressed like an angel. Like always, Clara was wearing one of her good dresses instead of the worn out shorts that Ivy always wore.
“Clara, I don’t know why you insist on wearing your good clothes to go fishing in. You’re just going to mess that dress up and Mama is going to fuss about having to wash and iron it.” Ivy squirmed in her seat. This had gone on long enough. She eyed the bag that held their lunch.
“Quit kidding around, Clara. Sit down before you fall overboard I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”
“I’m not kidding around. I’m praying. Be quiet.”
Ivy watched as sister raised her arms up to the sky and began to speak in a passable impersonation of Reverend Linton. “If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you.”
“Amen. Brother Ben. Shot at a rooster and killed a hen.” Ivy countered. “You’re nutty, Clara. I am going to eat my sandwich.”
Ivy opened the brown paper bag that held their lunch - two banana sandwiches on Sunbeam bread. She wiped her hands on her shorts, unwrapped her sandwich and placed it on the waxed paper that she had spread carefully on her lap. She was just about to bite into it when she heard the splash.
Clara let go of the side of the skiff and allowed herself to sink into the brackish water of Pungo Creek. Her hair floated around her head catching the light that still streamed through the Carolina pines. Her eyes were open. Little bubbles escaped from her nose and gurgled to the surface.
Clara caught hold of the anchor rope and pulled herself to the bottom. Then she set the anchor on her stomach so she wouldn’t float to the surface and she waited. When she couldn’t hold her breath any longer she breathed in the creek water. For a second she almost gave in and pushed off the anchor, but she just kept remembering Reverend Linton dipping her in the water. It was just like being baptized. She felt Pungo Creek just flowing into her body and then all the fear left her.
Pungo Creek - 1957
It had been Clara’s idea to take the skiff out.
“I’ll make us some banana sandwiches and you dig up some worms.”
“Okay but we better clean up this mess first or Mama will have a conniption.”
Together they had dismantled their playhouse, careful to put everything back where it belonged. Rose watched them silently from the porch swing. Her eyes followed them but she didn’t say a word until Clara came out with the banana sandwiches and a jar of lemonade.
Ivy was crouching near the creek, digging worms in the soft earth. The worms wriggled in her small, chubby hands as she deposited them in an old Luzianne Coffee can. She heard shouting from the back porch and she saw her sister stop dead in her tracks.
“So you think you're so smart? You're not! I’m your Mama, damn it. You're only a nine-year-old snot nose who doesn't know anything but how to be a tramp. You’re just like your aunt. Wagging your little ass, acting all surprised when some boy jumps on it. You don’t fool me for a minute you little whore”
It looked like Clara was about to say something when Rose hauled off and just slapped her across the face. “You ain’t getting nothing you didn’t ask for.”
The bag holding the sandwiches fell from her hand but Clara held onto the lemonade. Then Rose hit her again knocking the jar to the ground. Clara picked up the bag of sandwiches and ran toward the skiff. “Hurry up, Ivy, or I’m going without you.”
Ivy grabbed her can of worms and scurried to the boat.
Rose shouted after them “I am going to murder you both. I swear and be dammed you little brats are going to regret the day you were born.”
Ivy scrambled into the skiff just as Clara was propelling the little boat away from the shore. She could still see Rose on the porch shaking her fist in the air but her words were lost.
“What set her off?” Ivy asked when they had put some distance between themselves and their Mama.
“It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s me she’s mad at. It’s always me she’s mad at.” Clara rowed hard. She stared at a point just over Ivy’s left shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breath came in gulps and she just kept rowing. There was an angry splotch on her cheek. It matched the fading marks on her arms and legs.
After a long time she finally she stopped rowing. The skiff moved forward on its own momentum for a few moments and then everything was still and quiet. Ivy looked around. They were all the way down to Voliva’s Neck. She recognized the old Stokesberry House. She’d only seen it once from the dirt road the day that she and Clara borrowed Uncle Benjamin’s old burro Lucinda and taken her for a ride without asking permission. Mama had spanked them both hard with the Davy Crockett paddle. The old house looked even spookier from the water. It was supposed to be haunted.
“Want to go check it out?” Ivy said pointing to the ramshackle old house. She didn’t really want to. She was just uncomfortable and wanted to distract her big sister from whatever had happened back at the house.
Clara acted like she didn’t hear her. She just stood at the front of the skiff with her hands folded in front of her like she was praying. Then she was gone.
Ivy watched until she lost sight of her older sister’s hair and there were no more bubbles. She sat there for a long time just staring at the water. It was getting dark.
The sun sank lower and lower and finally disappeared. At last she moved. Slowly, as if in a trance, she made her way to the front of the skiff and pulled up the anchor that had been resting on Clara’s stomach. She set the oars in the oarlocks and headed for home. She waited until the sun disappeared behind the pines and only when darkness descended did she pick up the oars and row – back down the creek – past Toppins Point, past the stakes where granddaddy tied up his crab pots. When she passed the old graveyard she lifted the oars from the water. She almost turned around. She almost went back to look for her sister, but it was too late for that and maybe her sister was better off anyway. She kept rowing.
It wasn’t easy. She was only six. Her arms were short and her feet barely reached the bottom of the boat. She struggled to make the little boat move along the creek. When she got back to the house, Ivy pulled the skiff onto the bank and wrapped the anchor rope around the base of the mimosa tree. She remembered that just that morning she and her sister had been playing house under that tree. They had spread old rugs on the ground and hauled chairs out from the kitchen and pretended that the boughs were their ceilings. They had served each other tea from imaginary cups. Their Mama had watched them from the back porch swing, tolerating, for once, their pointless make believe and letting them be children for a few short hours.
Ivy ran into the house where she found Rose half drunk but not too drunk to rouse herself when Ivy came running in crying about how her sister had jumped into the creek and drowned herself.
“If this is one of your pranks I am going to beat the two of you within an inch of your life.”
“It isn’t a prank, Mama, honest. She was praying and the next thing I knew she was under the water and she didn’t come back up.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, Mama. I think maybe she’s drowned. I waited there a long time and …..” Ivy began to sob.
She grabbed Ivy’s shoulders and shook her making her cry harder.
“Mama, we have to go get her,” she gasped between sobs. “Maybe she was just hiding in the weeds.”
“Why the hell did you leave her?”
“I waited and waited, Mama. I got scared. It was dark and we were way down by the ghost house.”
“Run over to Benjamin’s and tell him to bring his boat around. Tell him to hurry.”
When Ivy hesitated she hurried her along with a swat across her bottom.
Rose went to the front bedroom where her aunt lay sleeping on top of the chenille bedspread.
Her Bible was open beside her as usual. “Sarah! Sarah! Wake up. I’m going to have to go out for a while and I need you to get up and look after the baby.”
By the time she had put on her shoes and jacket she heard her brother Benjamin’s boat out front.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” Sarah came out of the bedroom smoothing her apron and touching her grey hair that was held tight by her hairnet. “What’s Benjamin doing here?”
“Ivy and Clara took the skiff out and Ivy came back alone. Benjamin and I are going to find her.”
Rose tried to keep her voice even so she wouldn’t frighten the old woman. She needn’t have bothered. At the moment, Ivy came bursting in, still crying. “Mama, Uncle Benjamin’s here. You’re going to find her, aren’t you, Mama.”
“Come here, child.” Sarah bent over and put her arms around the terrified child. Ivy buried her face in her breast and sobbed.
Rose left them there and ran down the steps to the dock where Benjamin was waiting with a puzzled look on his face. “Ivy said she saw Clara drown down in front of the old Stokesberry place. That girl can swim like a fish, Rose. What happened?”
“You know as much as I know, Benjamin,” she said, lighting a Chesterfield. “All I know is Ivy came in bawling about her drowning herself.” Rose was close to tears herself. She remembered the harsh words just before Clara had run down to the skiff – away from her. She regretted striking her daughter but she couldn’t help herself. She just got so mad sometime. God knows she had thought more than once about killing herself. She wouldn’t drown herself though. She would blow her head off like Marilyn Satterwhite had. She understood perfectly the pain that had brought Marilyn to take her own life with three small children sitting at the kitchen table ten feet away. What she couldn’t understand was why her nine-year-old daughter could be so desperate.
Rose folded her arms and stared straight ahead as Benjamin pointed his runabout up the creek toward the spot where she already knew her daughter had died. She was beyond hope and beyond tears. She just sat there numbly waiting for the inevitable. The moon cast a wide beam of light across Pungo Creek. Benjamin’s boat moved across the water quickly. In just ten minutes they arrived at the spot it had taken Clara more than an hour to reach that afternoon. When the got to the place Ivy had described, Benjamin cut the engine back to idle and reached for his flashlight.
“Benjamin – there…Oh my God. Oh no.”
Benjamin cast his light over the shoreline where Rose had pointed and there, washed up in the reeds and cattails his light came to rest on Clara’s lifeless body.
Before he could stop her, Rose jumped into the creek and swam toward her daughter. She pulled her Clara’s lifeless body from the reed, held her daughter in her arms and wailed.
The sound reminded Benjamin of an afternoon thirty years before - the day that Rose and Pearl were born. That was the first time Rose’s cries had echoed across Pungo Creek. He sat silently watching his sister clutch her dead daughter to her breast. What had his family done to deserve so much heartache?
“I’ll make us some banana sandwiches and you dig up some worms.”
“Okay but we better clean up this mess first or Mama will have a conniption.”
Together they had dismantled their playhouse, careful to put everything back where it belonged. Rose watched them silently from the porch swing. Her eyes followed them but she didn’t say a word until Clara came out with the banana sandwiches and a jar of lemonade.
Ivy was crouching near the creek, digging worms in the soft earth. The worms wriggled in her small, chubby hands as she deposited them in an old Luzianne Coffee can. She heard shouting from the back porch and she saw her sister stop dead in her tracks.
“So you think you're so smart? You're not! I’m your Mama, damn it. You're only a nine-year-old snot nose who doesn't know anything but how to be a tramp. You’re just like your aunt. Wagging your little ass, acting all surprised when some boy jumps on it. You don’t fool me for a minute you little whore”
It looked like Clara was about to say something when Rose hauled off and just slapped her across the face. “You ain’t getting nothing you didn’t ask for.”
The bag holding the sandwiches fell from her hand but Clara held onto the lemonade. Then Rose hit her again knocking the jar to the ground. Clara picked up the bag of sandwiches and ran toward the skiff. “Hurry up, Ivy, or I’m going without you.”
Ivy grabbed her can of worms and scurried to the boat.
Rose shouted after them “I am going to murder you both. I swear and be dammed you little brats are going to regret the day you were born.”
Ivy scrambled into the skiff just as Clara was propelling the little boat away from the shore. She could still see Rose on the porch shaking her fist in the air but her words were lost.
“What set her off?” Ivy asked when they had put some distance between themselves and their Mama.
“It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s me she’s mad at. It’s always me she’s mad at.” Clara rowed hard. She stared at a point just over Ivy’s left shoulder. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her breath came in gulps and she just kept rowing. There was an angry splotch on her cheek. It matched the fading marks on her arms and legs.
After a long time she finally she stopped rowing. The skiff moved forward on its own momentum for a few moments and then everything was still and quiet. Ivy looked around. They were all the way down to Voliva’s Neck. She recognized the old Stokesberry House. She’d only seen it once from the dirt road the day that she and Clara borrowed Uncle Benjamin’s old burro Lucinda and taken her for a ride without asking permission. Mama had spanked them both hard with the Davy Crockett paddle. The old house looked even spookier from the water. It was supposed to be haunted.
“Want to go check it out?” Ivy said pointing to the ramshackle old house. She didn’t really want to. She was just uncomfortable and wanted to distract her big sister from whatever had happened back at the house.
Clara acted like she didn’t hear her. She just stood at the front of the skiff with her hands folded in front of her like she was praying. Then she was gone.
Ivy watched until she lost sight of her older sister’s hair and there were no more bubbles. She sat there for a long time just staring at the water. It was getting dark.
The sun sank lower and lower and finally disappeared. At last she moved. Slowly, as if in a trance, she made her way to the front of the skiff and pulled up the anchor that had been resting on Clara’s stomach. She set the oars in the oarlocks and headed for home. She waited until the sun disappeared behind the pines and only when darkness descended did she pick up the oars and row – back down the creek – past Toppins Point, past the stakes where granddaddy tied up his crab pots. When she passed the old graveyard she lifted the oars from the water. She almost turned around. She almost went back to look for her sister, but it was too late for that and maybe her sister was better off anyway. She kept rowing.
It wasn’t easy. She was only six. Her arms were short and her feet barely reached the bottom of the boat. She struggled to make the little boat move along the creek. When she got back to the house, Ivy pulled the skiff onto the bank and wrapped the anchor rope around the base of the mimosa tree. She remembered that just that morning she and her sister had been playing house under that tree. They had spread old rugs on the ground and hauled chairs out from the kitchen and pretended that the boughs were their ceilings. They had served each other tea from imaginary cups. Their Mama had watched them from the back porch swing, tolerating, for once, their pointless make believe and letting them be children for a few short hours.
Ivy ran into the house where she found Rose half drunk but not too drunk to rouse herself when Ivy came running in crying about how her sister had jumped into the creek and drowned herself.
“If this is one of your pranks I am going to beat the two of you within an inch of your life.”
“It isn’t a prank, Mama, honest. She was praying and the next thing I knew she was under the water and she didn’t come back up.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying, Mama. I think maybe she’s drowned. I waited there a long time and …..” Ivy began to sob.
She grabbed Ivy’s shoulders and shook her making her cry harder.
“Mama, we have to go get her,” she gasped between sobs. “Maybe she was just hiding in the weeds.”
“Why the hell did you leave her?”
“I waited and waited, Mama. I got scared. It was dark and we were way down by the ghost house.”
“Run over to Benjamin’s and tell him to bring his boat around. Tell him to hurry.”
When Ivy hesitated she hurried her along with a swat across her bottom.
Rose went to the front bedroom where her aunt lay sleeping on top of the chenille bedspread.
Her Bible was open beside her as usual. “Sarah! Sarah! Wake up. I’m going to have to go out for a while and I need you to get up and look after the baby.”
By the time she had put on her shoes and jacket she heard her brother Benjamin’s boat out front.
“What’s wrong, Rose?” Sarah came out of the bedroom smoothing her apron and touching her grey hair that was held tight by her hairnet. “What’s Benjamin doing here?”
“Ivy and Clara took the skiff out and Ivy came back alone. Benjamin and I are going to find her.”
Rose tried to keep her voice even so she wouldn’t frighten the old woman. She needn’t have bothered. At the moment, Ivy came bursting in, still crying. “Mama, Uncle Benjamin’s here. You’re going to find her, aren’t you, Mama.”
“Come here, child.” Sarah bent over and put her arms around the terrified child. Ivy buried her face in her breast and sobbed.
Rose left them there and ran down the steps to the dock where Benjamin was waiting with a puzzled look on his face. “Ivy said she saw Clara drown down in front of the old Stokesberry place. That girl can swim like a fish, Rose. What happened?”
“You know as much as I know, Benjamin,” she said, lighting a Chesterfield. “All I know is Ivy came in bawling about her drowning herself.” Rose was close to tears herself. She remembered the harsh words just before Clara had run down to the skiff – away from her. She regretted striking her daughter but she couldn’t help herself. She just got so mad sometime. God knows she had thought more than once about killing herself. She wouldn’t drown herself though. She would blow her head off like Marilyn Satterwhite had. She understood perfectly the pain that had brought Marilyn to take her own life with three small children sitting at the kitchen table ten feet away. What she couldn’t understand was why her nine-year-old daughter could be so desperate.
Rose folded her arms and stared straight ahead as Benjamin pointed his runabout up the creek toward the spot where she already knew her daughter had died. She was beyond hope and beyond tears. She just sat there numbly waiting for the inevitable. The moon cast a wide beam of light across Pungo Creek. Benjamin’s boat moved across the water quickly. In just ten minutes they arrived at the spot it had taken Clara more than an hour to reach that afternoon. When the got to the place Ivy had described, Benjamin cut the engine back to idle and reached for his flashlight.
“Benjamin – there…Oh my God. Oh no.”
Benjamin cast his light over the shoreline where Rose had pointed and there, washed up in the reeds and cattails his light came to rest on Clara’s lifeless body.
Before he could stop her, Rose jumped into the creek and swam toward her daughter. She pulled her Clara’s lifeless body from the reed, held her daughter in her arms and wailed.
The sound reminded Benjamin of an afternoon thirty years before - the day that Rose and Pearl were born. That was the first time Rose’s cries had echoed across Pungo Creek. He sat silently watching his sister clutch her dead daughter to her breast. What had his family done to deserve so much heartache?
Pungo Creek - 1927
Benjamin waited with his stepfather on the front porch. From inside the house came his mother' cries as she struggled with what his Aunt Sarah had warned them would be a difficult childbirth.
“It’s twins,” she had said. “Your Mama had a hard time pushing you out and she wasn’t a young woman then. She’s forty-four now and she ain’t strong. Wouldn’t hurt if you two did a little praying.”
There was no talking on the porch that day. Not to God. Not to each other. Benjamin sat in the porch swing. Grover sat on the steps, his eyes fixed on the creek. Each time his wife cried out he flinched and cursed under his breath.
Irene had been in labor since before dawn. It was past four now. The sun was sinking below the pine trees on the other side of the creek. “That woman can’t take much more of this and neither can I.” He got up from the steps and went into the house. The screen door slammed behind him.
“Stay out of here, Grover. I’m tending to your wife the best I can.”
“I’m just getting a drink, Sarah. Can’t a man get a drink in his own house?”
Grover opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Benjamin didn’t have to look to know that his stepfather had taken out his bottle of Jim Beam and was standing in front of the sink; his head dropped back, the whiskey pouring straight from the bottle down his throat. He had watched him do it many times. His Adam’s apple would bob up and down as he swallowed. Then he would lower the bottle, wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, let out a satisfied little sound from his throat, check the bottle and put it back under the sink.
“Shit” said Benjamin under his breath. “It ain’t his house. Can’t the bastard even stay sober today of all days when my mother is in there probably dying, giving life to his brats?”
Another cry came from inside the house. It echoed from across the creek. A few minutes later his mother cried out again, weaker, all out of breath and then a baby howled.
Sarah came out to the porch wiping her hands on one of his mother’s dishtowels. The towel was bloody. So was Sarah’s apron. “Where’s your father, Benjamin?”
“He ain’t my father” Benjamin growled. “How's my mama? Is it over?”
“The poor thing passed out from the pain. It’s a blessing. She’s breathing. I got the bleeding stopped. I’ll get the babies cleaned up and you can come in and see your sisters."
“I don’t want to see them. I hate them. I hate that bastard for what he did to my Mama.”
“Now, Benjamin. You need to calm down and get a hold of yourself. Your Mama needs you, son. She is not a strong woman and that man she married is just about worthless. But she's your Mama and those little babies in there are your flesh and blood.”
Sarah returned to her sister’s bedside. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly. Sarah talked softly to Irene as she picked up one of the babies and sponged her carefully with warm water. “Irene, this one looks just like you did when you were born. She already has a full head of hair. Bless her heart. And she sure has the Foreman chin. Goodness gracious.” She wrapped the infant in a clean white cloth and placed her in the basket next to Irene’s bed.
“I don’t know who this one favors. Looks like a little fairy child from one of those stories you read me – Midsummer Night something. Look at those blue eyes. Why they’re big as saucers.”
Irene opened her eyes. “Let me see my babies, Sister.”
Sarah put the second baby next to her twin and brought the basket closer so Irene could see.
“You’re right, Sarah. Maybe I should name her Titania.”
“Hold on honey. Let’s not get carried away. Remember how you wanted to name Benjamin “Orlando” because you were reading “As You Like It” when you were carrying him?” Sarah put the basket down and wiped her sister’s face. “Honey, there’s time enough to worry about names when you get your strength back. You just rest now and let me get you cleaned up so your boy can come in. He’s hardly moved from that porch since dawn. He’s worried sick about you.”
“Where’s Grover? Isn’t he here?”
“He had something to tend to. He’ll be back directly. Now just you rest.”
Benjamin was still sitting on the porch an hour later when Sarah came to the door. Reluctantly, he followed her inside and back to the bedroom where his mother lay sleeping, her face grey as though all the life had been bled out of her, but she seemed to be resting peacefully
The twins were asleep in a basket beside the bed. They were no bigger than kittens, red and wrinkled. One of the babies had a full head of dark hair. The other one had some light colored fuzz on her head.
Sarah put her hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Meet your new baby sisters, Benjamin. What do you think?”
He didn’t say what he was thinking. He didn’t say he wanted nothing more than to take a pillow and smother the life out of them. Instead he shook his head, “They sure are scrawny.”
Grover stayed away all night. He came back around noon the next day. Benjamin met him at the back door. The two of them stood, glaring at each other. Neither of them said a word.
The standoff between the thirty-six-year old man and his twelve-year-old stepson continued until Sarah stepped between them. “Where in creation have you been, Grover? You should be ashamed of yourself running away and leaving my sister like that. She nearly died.” Sarah had not slept for two days. She had delivered two babies and watched her beloved sister nearly die. Any civility she possessed vanished when she smelled the whiskey and cheap perfume that emanated from her brother-in-law. “My sister and her children deserve better than the likes of you, but since it was me that pushed her to marry you I'll keep my peace.”
“That’s the first intelligent thing you said today, Sarah. You do that. You hold your tongue. I’m going to see my wife.”
“Not like that you’re not. You clean yourself up before you go in there.”
Grover pushed Sarah roughly out of the way and walked unsteadily to the bedroom where Irene lay with a baby in each arm. She smiled weakly for a moment, but when her husband failed to return her smile, it faded. The man that glared down at her and her babies was nothing like her first husband.
Irene’s mind reached back to the day Caleb had died. It was March 8, 1924 - Benjamin’s ninth birthday. Caleb had been in the kitchen making coffee when Benjamin came in. “Good morning, son. It’s early for a boy to be up on a Saturday – especially on his birthday. I was planning to take care of your chores this morning.”
“I don’t mind. Really.” Benjamin grabbed a biscuit and hurried out.
Irene had been watching from the doorway. She walked into the kitchen just as her son had run out the back door toward the barn.
Caleb took a sip of his coffee. “Our son’s is a natural with those animals. You know he was telling me last night he wanted to be an animal doctor when he grows up. Don’t that beat all, Irene? He could do it too. That boy is smart as they come. He don’t get it from me. That’s for sure.”
Irene tied on her apron, poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her husband at the table. “He takes after you, Caleb. He’s kind and gentle and hardworking. The boy doesn’t even rest on his birthday.” She reached out and touched his cheek. He still had the boyish face she had fallen in love with in thirty years before.
“Nine years old today. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day. I think maybe Benjamin and I will take a ride into Belhaven. Let the boy have a little fun. I’ve got a few things to attend to and then we’ll be on our way.”
When Benjamin came back inside Irene was busy mixing up the batter for his birthday cake. He walked over and ran his finger along the edge of the bowl.
“Get your dirty hands out of my bowl.” She laughed and pretended to swat her son with her spoon.
Benjamin grinned, licking his finger.
“Your father said something about taking you into town for your birthday, Benjamin. Good thing, too. It’ll keep y’all out of my hair while I get your birthday supper ready. You go get yourself cleaned up now. I don’t want you riding into town looking like a field hand.”
Benjamin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off to get ready. She marveled that at nine he was nearly as tall as she was. He really did take after his father in every way. “I’m a lucky woman,” she said to herself. Her husband coaxed their livelihood out of the earth that surrounded their small clapboard house on Pungo Creek. Her son was good with the animals and never complained about getting up early to tend to them before heading off to school. He was a good student – never gave them a minute of trouble. Irene worried sometimes that he might be lonely – that he should have a brother or sister to keep him company – but he seemed satisfied being an only child.
She watched from her kitchen window as Caleb led the horses down from the barn. One of the horses was Salvo. She didn’t trust that horse. He didn’t like to be ridden. She walked out to meet Caleb at the back steps.
Caleb cut her off before she could speak her disapproval. “Don’t worry so much, Irene. I can handle this horse. We can’t just keep him corralled up eating our oats. Salvo has to work for his keep - like the rest of us.” He laughed. Irene didn’t.
Irene was still frowning when she stood on the back porch watching Caleb and Benjamin ride away a few minutes later. “You be careful, Caleb.” She called after him. Her husband turned around, grinned, waved good-bye. That was the last time Irene saw him alive.
It had been a freak accident. He and his father had been riding back from town when Benjamin challenged his father to a race. “I’ll wager you that I can beat you to the crossroads. If I win, you have to do my chores for a week.”
Benjamin didn’t wait for his father’s response. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and took off.
“Hold on, Benjamin,” his father called after him. “Your Mama will have my hide if you get hurt.”
Salvo pawed the ground impatiently. She was agitated, straining against her bit. When Caleb loosened the reins she raced uncontrollably after the other horse. Benjamin turned around in time to see his father's horse rear back on his hind legs. Caleb had a startled look on his face as he fell backward. Benjamin had raced back to his father but it was too late. His neck was broken.
That night Benjamin took down his father’s rifle, walked into the barn and shot Salvo. He blamed the horse for his father’s death, but he blamed himself more. He never told his mother that he had challenged his father to a race. He bore his guilt silently. Irene’s grief had been so enormous, she was only dimly aware of her son.
Benjamin continued getting up at dawn and taking care of the animals before school but he couldn’t tend to the crops. Neighbors helped the best they could, but they had their own fields to plant. When a drifter had shown up and offered to take care of the farm in exchange for room and board, Irene had reluctantly allowed him into their home.
Irene had loved only one man in her life. She and Caleb had been devoted to each other since they were children. It had been a foregone conclusion that they would marry, but Caleb insisted on waiting until was able to care for Irene properly. It was Sarah that finally convinced him not to wait any longer.
“Sarah, I love your sister but I won’t live with her under her father’s roof. When I can afford to build her a house of her own, I will ask her to marry me.”
“You are more of a fool than I thought you were, Caleb. Irene wants a baby. How long are you going to make her wait?”
The next Sunday after preaching Caleb had swallowed his pride, collected all his courage and asked Andrew Foreman for the hand of his daughter. “I love your daughter. It dishonors me that I cannot give Irene a home of her own, but I don’t want to live without her any longer.”
The old man had surprised Caleb by welcoming the idea enthusiastically. “It’s about time you came to your senses, my boy. I’d about given up hope of ever being a granddaddy. You are welcome in my home and I hope you will consider it your own.”
Irene and Caleb had been happy together. When she buried him she swore she would never love another man. But who could blame Irene for allowing herself to become infatuated with Grover? She was a lonely, middle-aged woman left with a young boy and a farm to tend to. Grover was handsome - movie star handsome. He had dark curly hair and blue eyes. He was tall and well built and seemed to have boundless energy. Irene watched him shyly as he worked. She noticed the tattoo of a rose on his right arm, his long fingers and his tanned, hairless chest. But it wasn’t just his looks that captured her. It was his self-assurance and his brashness. Within a year he was sharing her bed.
When Irene’s belly started to swell, her sister persuaded her to marry Grover for the sake of the baby. “It don’t matter whether you love him or not” she said when Irene said she had no feelings for him. “Your children need a father.”
Irene and Grover were married quietly in a somber service at Sidney Church. There was no celebration. Irene soon discovered that her handsome husband had a dark side. While no one would ever accuse Grover of being lazy, when he got home from the fields at night he expected his wife to cater to his every need. He had his own ideas about how things should be done and constantly found fault with Benjamin. He made Sarah feel so unwelcome that her visits became more and more infrequent. But it was his drinking that disturbed Irene most. When he drank Grover’s was unpredictable. A violent rage would erupt at the least provocation or he might become amorous and force himself on Irene, ignoring both her delicate condition and the presence of her young son.
Sarah had been right. The child she was carrying did need a father and so did Benjamin. She just wasn’t sure Grover was the father her children needed.
* * *
The babies wriggled in her arms bringing her back to the present. She looked down at the dark-haired one. “I would like to name this one Rose, and this one Pearl” she said dipping her chin to the smaller twin.”
“Don’t matter to me. They’re yours to do with as you please. But that boy out there is another matter. He’s going to learn to show me some respect, starting right now. You've coddled him long enough, Irene.”
Grover smiled for the first time since entering the room. “There ain’t a hell of a lot you can do to stop me now, is there?”
“It’s twins,” she had said. “Your Mama had a hard time pushing you out and she wasn’t a young woman then. She’s forty-four now and she ain’t strong. Wouldn’t hurt if you two did a little praying.”
There was no talking on the porch that day. Not to God. Not to each other. Benjamin sat in the porch swing. Grover sat on the steps, his eyes fixed on the creek. Each time his wife cried out he flinched and cursed under his breath.
Irene had been in labor since before dawn. It was past four now. The sun was sinking below the pine trees on the other side of the creek. “That woman can’t take much more of this and neither can I.” He got up from the steps and went into the house. The screen door slammed behind him.
“Stay out of here, Grover. I’m tending to your wife the best I can.”
“I’m just getting a drink, Sarah. Can’t a man get a drink in his own house?”
Grover opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink. Benjamin didn’t have to look to know that his stepfather had taken out his bottle of Jim Beam and was standing in front of the sink; his head dropped back, the whiskey pouring straight from the bottle down his throat. He had watched him do it many times. His Adam’s apple would bob up and down as he swallowed. Then he would lower the bottle, wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, let out a satisfied little sound from his throat, check the bottle and put it back under the sink.
“Shit” said Benjamin under his breath. “It ain’t his house. Can’t the bastard even stay sober today of all days when my mother is in there probably dying, giving life to his brats?”
Another cry came from inside the house. It echoed from across the creek. A few minutes later his mother cried out again, weaker, all out of breath and then a baby howled.
Sarah came out to the porch wiping her hands on one of his mother’s dishtowels. The towel was bloody. So was Sarah’s apron. “Where’s your father, Benjamin?”
“He ain’t my father” Benjamin growled. “How's my mama? Is it over?”
“The poor thing passed out from the pain. It’s a blessing. She’s breathing. I got the bleeding stopped. I’ll get the babies cleaned up and you can come in and see your sisters."
“I don’t want to see them. I hate them. I hate that bastard for what he did to my Mama.”
“Now, Benjamin. You need to calm down and get a hold of yourself. Your Mama needs you, son. She is not a strong woman and that man she married is just about worthless. But she's your Mama and those little babies in there are your flesh and blood.”
Sarah returned to her sister’s bedside. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly. Sarah talked softly to Irene as she picked up one of the babies and sponged her carefully with warm water. “Irene, this one looks just like you did when you were born. She already has a full head of hair. Bless her heart. And she sure has the Foreman chin. Goodness gracious.” She wrapped the infant in a clean white cloth and placed her in the basket next to Irene’s bed.
“I don’t know who this one favors. Looks like a little fairy child from one of those stories you read me – Midsummer Night something. Look at those blue eyes. Why they’re big as saucers.”
Irene opened her eyes. “Let me see my babies, Sister.”
Sarah put the second baby next to her twin and brought the basket closer so Irene could see.
“You’re right, Sarah. Maybe I should name her Titania.”
“Hold on honey. Let’s not get carried away. Remember how you wanted to name Benjamin “Orlando” because you were reading “As You Like It” when you were carrying him?” Sarah put the basket down and wiped her sister’s face. “Honey, there’s time enough to worry about names when you get your strength back. You just rest now and let me get you cleaned up so your boy can come in. He’s hardly moved from that porch since dawn. He’s worried sick about you.”
“Where’s Grover? Isn’t he here?”
“He had something to tend to. He’ll be back directly. Now just you rest.”
Benjamin was still sitting on the porch an hour later when Sarah came to the door. Reluctantly, he followed her inside and back to the bedroom where his mother lay sleeping, her face grey as though all the life had been bled out of her, but she seemed to be resting peacefully
The twins were asleep in a basket beside the bed. They were no bigger than kittens, red and wrinkled. One of the babies had a full head of dark hair. The other one had some light colored fuzz on her head.
Sarah put her hand on Benjamin’s shoulder. “Meet your new baby sisters, Benjamin. What do you think?”
He didn’t say what he was thinking. He didn’t say he wanted nothing more than to take a pillow and smother the life out of them. Instead he shook his head, “They sure are scrawny.”
Grover stayed away all night. He came back around noon the next day. Benjamin met him at the back door. The two of them stood, glaring at each other. Neither of them said a word.
The standoff between the thirty-six-year old man and his twelve-year-old stepson continued until Sarah stepped between them. “Where in creation have you been, Grover? You should be ashamed of yourself running away and leaving my sister like that. She nearly died.” Sarah had not slept for two days. She had delivered two babies and watched her beloved sister nearly die. Any civility she possessed vanished when she smelled the whiskey and cheap perfume that emanated from her brother-in-law. “My sister and her children deserve better than the likes of you, but since it was me that pushed her to marry you I'll keep my peace.”
“That’s the first intelligent thing you said today, Sarah. You do that. You hold your tongue. I’m going to see my wife.”
“Not like that you’re not. You clean yourself up before you go in there.”
Grover pushed Sarah roughly out of the way and walked unsteadily to the bedroom where Irene lay with a baby in each arm. She smiled weakly for a moment, but when her husband failed to return her smile, it faded. The man that glared down at her and her babies was nothing like her first husband.
***
Irene’s mind reached back to the day Caleb had died. It was March 8, 1924 - Benjamin’s ninth birthday. Caleb had been in the kitchen making coffee when Benjamin came in. “Good morning, son. It’s early for a boy to be up on a Saturday – especially on his birthday. I was planning to take care of your chores this morning.”
“I don’t mind. Really.” Benjamin grabbed a biscuit and hurried out.
Irene had been watching from the doorway. She walked into the kitchen just as her son had run out the back door toward the barn.
Caleb took a sip of his coffee. “Our son’s is a natural with those animals. You know he was telling me last night he wanted to be an animal doctor when he grows up. Don’t that beat all, Irene? He could do it too. That boy is smart as they come. He don’t get it from me. That’s for sure.”
Irene tied on her apron, poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her husband at the table. “He takes after you, Caleb. He’s kind and gentle and hardworking. The boy doesn’t even rest on his birthday.” She reached out and touched his cheek. He still had the boyish face she had fallen in love with in thirty years before.
“Nine years old today. Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day. I think maybe Benjamin and I will take a ride into Belhaven. Let the boy have a little fun. I’ve got a few things to attend to and then we’ll be on our way.”
When Benjamin came back inside Irene was busy mixing up the batter for his birthday cake. He walked over and ran his finger along the edge of the bowl.
“Get your dirty hands out of my bowl.” She laughed and pretended to swat her son with her spoon.
Benjamin grinned, licking his finger.
“Your father said something about taking you into town for your birthday, Benjamin. Good thing, too. It’ll keep y’all out of my hair while I get your birthday supper ready. You go get yourself cleaned up now. I don’t want you riding into town looking like a field hand.”
Benjamin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off to get ready. She marveled that at nine he was nearly as tall as she was. He really did take after his father in every way. “I’m a lucky woman,” she said to herself. Her husband coaxed their livelihood out of the earth that surrounded their small clapboard house on Pungo Creek. Her son was good with the animals and never complained about getting up early to tend to them before heading off to school. He was a good student – never gave them a minute of trouble. Irene worried sometimes that he might be lonely – that he should have a brother or sister to keep him company – but he seemed satisfied being an only child.
She watched from her kitchen window as Caleb led the horses down from the barn. One of the horses was Salvo. She didn’t trust that horse. He didn’t like to be ridden. She walked out to meet Caleb at the back steps.
Caleb cut her off before she could speak her disapproval. “Don’t worry so much, Irene. I can handle this horse. We can’t just keep him corralled up eating our oats. Salvo has to work for his keep - like the rest of us.” He laughed. Irene didn’t.
Irene was still frowning when she stood on the back porch watching Caleb and Benjamin ride away a few minutes later. “You be careful, Caleb.” She called after him. Her husband turned around, grinned, waved good-bye. That was the last time Irene saw him alive.
It had been a freak accident. He and his father had been riding back from town when Benjamin challenged his father to a race. “I’ll wager you that I can beat you to the crossroads. If I win, you have to do my chores for a week.”
Benjamin didn’t wait for his father’s response. He dug his heels into his horse’s sides and took off.
“Hold on, Benjamin,” his father called after him. “Your Mama will have my hide if you get hurt.”
Salvo pawed the ground impatiently. She was agitated, straining against her bit. When Caleb loosened the reins she raced uncontrollably after the other horse. Benjamin turned around in time to see his father's horse rear back on his hind legs. Caleb had a startled look on his face as he fell backward. Benjamin had raced back to his father but it was too late. His neck was broken.
That night Benjamin took down his father’s rifle, walked into the barn and shot Salvo. He blamed the horse for his father’s death, but he blamed himself more. He never told his mother that he had challenged his father to a race. He bore his guilt silently. Irene’s grief had been so enormous, she was only dimly aware of her son.
Benjamin continued getting up at dawn and taking care of the animals before school but he couldn’t tend to the crops. Neighbors helped the best they could, but they had their own fields to plant. When a drifter had shown up and offered to take care of the farm in exchange for room and board, Irene had reluctantly allowed him into their home.
Irene had loved only one man in her life. She and Caleb had been devoted to each other since they were children. It had been a foregone conclusion that they would marry, but Caleb insisted on waiting until was able to care for Irene properly. It was Sarah that finally convinced him not to wait any longer.
“Sarah, I love your sister but I won’t live with her under her father’s roof. When I can afford to build her a house of her own, I will ask her to marry me.”
“You are more of a fool than I thought you were, Caleb. Irene wants a baby. How long are you going to make her wait?”
The next Sunday after preaching Caleb had swallowed his pride, collected all his courage and asked Andrew Foreman for the hand of his daughter. “I love your daughter. It dishonors me that I cannot give Irene a home of her own, but I don’t want to live without her any longer.”
The old man had surprised Caleb by welcoming the idea enthusiastically. “It’s about time you came to your senses, my boy. I’d about given up hope of ever being a granddaddy. You are welcome in my home and I hope you will consider it your own.”
Irene and Caleb had been happy together. When she buried him she swore she would never love another man. But who could blame Irene for allowing herself to become infatuated with Grover? She was a lonely, middle-aged woman left with a young boy and a farm to tend to. Grover was handsome - movie star handsome. He had dark curly hair and blue eyes. He was tall and well built and seemed to have boundless energy. Irene watched him shyly as he worked. She noticed the tattoo of a rose on his right arm, his long fingers and his tanned, hairless chest. But it wasn’t just his looks that captured her. It was his self-assurance and his brashness. Within a year he was sharing her bed.
When Irene’s belly started to swell, her sister persuaded her to marry Grover for the sake of the baby. “It don’t matter whether you love him or not” she said when Irene said she had no feelings for him. “Your children need a father.”
Irene and Grover were married quietly in a somber service at Sidney Church. There was no celebration. Irene soon discovered that her handsome husband had a dark side. While no one would ever accuse Grover of being lazy, when he got home from the fields at night he expected his wife to cater to his every need. He had his own ideas about how things should be done and constantly found fault with Benjamin. He made Sarah feel so unwelcome that her visits became more and more infrequent. But it was his drinking that disturbed Irene most. When he drank Grover’s was unpredictable. A violent rage would erupt at the least provocation or he might become amorous and force himself on Irene, ignoring both her delicate condition and the presence of her young son.
Sarah had been right. The child she was carrying did need a father and so did Benjamin. She just wasn’t sure Grover was the father her children needed.
* * *
The babies wriggled in her arms bringing her back to the present. She looked down at the dark-haired one. “I would like to name this one Rose, and this one Pearl” she said dipping her chin to the smaller twin.”
“Don’t matter to me. They’re yours to do with as you please. But that boy out there is another matter. He’s going to learn to show me some respect, starting right now. You've coddled him long enough, Irene.”
“Grover, don’t you touch my son. He's a good boy. You leave him alone.”
Grover smiled for the first time since entering the room. “There ain’t a hell of a lot you can do to stop me now, is there?”
The Evil that Men Do
Grover was as good as his word. He wasted no time showing Benjamin he was the boss. That night he confronted him in the barn. Benjamin had brought down some treats for his favorite mare. Glory was getting too old to ride, but she had been Benjamin’s first horse and he cherished her. The old horse nuzzled Benjamin’s pocket for another piece of carrot.
“We don’t have enough food for you to be wasting it on some good for nothing nag. Especially with two new mouths to feed. It’s time to get rid of that horse.”
“No. My Papa gave her to me. She’s mine.”
“Ain’t nothing yours.
“Glory is mine. He picked her out special for me.”
“Ain’t like he was a great judge of horses, boy. Couldn’t even stay astride one.” Grover laughed and turned to leave the barn.
Benjamin picked up a galvanized pail and threw it at his back. It bounced off the stall, narrowly missing his stepfather.
Grover picked up the pail and walked back to where Benjamin stood. He swung the pail, slamming it hard against Benjamin’s cheek. Then with his free hand he landed a blow on the other cheek.
“You raise a hand against me again, boy; you won’t walk out of this barn.”
Grover’s attitude toward Benjamin didn’t change. Irene’s heart ached as she silently watched her son struggle with chores that would have challenged a grown man. She sent him off to school in mended overalls. Grover refused to spend money to buy him new ones. “You don’t see me spending good money on frills, do you?”
Benjamin didn’t complain as he pulled on the patched clothes even though his sleeves were too short and the cuffs of his pants ended inches above his ankles. “It’s okay, Mama. They ain’t no worse than the other boys wear.”
“Aren’t any worse,” she corrected him.
Irene never fully regained her strength after the birth of the twins. The little energy she had was spent on her daughters. In the evening she read them to sleep. From the time they were babies Irene read to her children from leather bound volumes of the plays of William Shakespeare that her father had left her. Benjamin had once sat in her lap as she read to him. Now she read to the twins and hardly spoke to him unless she was correcting his grammar or giving him another chore. She saw the abuse he received from Grover, but she never spoke of it to either of them.
Little by little the eager young boy disappeared and was replaced by a sullen, withdrawn teenager. The change was so gradual that by the time Irene became aware of the transformation, it was too late.
“We don’t have enough food for you to be wasting it on some good for nothing nag. Especially with two new mouths to feed. It’s time to get rid of that horse.”
“No. My Papa gave her to me. She’s mine.”
“Ain’t nothing yours.
“Glory is mine. He picked her out special for me.”
“Ain’t like he was a great judge of horses, boy. Couldn’t even stay astride one.” Grover laughed and turned to leave the barn.
Benjamin picked up a galvanized pail and threw it at his back. It bounced off the stall, narrowly missing his stepfather.
Grover picked up the pail and walked back to where Benjamin stood. He swung the pail, slamming it hard against Benjamin’s cheek. Then with his free hand he landed a blow on the other cheek.
“You raise a hand against me again, boy; you won’t walk out of this barn.”
Grover’s attitude toward Benjamin didn’t change. Irene’s heart ached as she silently watched her son struggle with chores that would have challenged a grown man. She sent him off to school in mended overalls. Grover refused to spend money to buy him new ones. “You don’t see me spending good money on frills, do you?”
Benjamin didn’t complain as he pulled on the patched clothes even though his sleeves were too short and the cuffs of his pants ended inches above his ankles. “It’s okay, Mama. They ain’t no worse than the other boys wear.”
“Aren’t any worse,” she corrected him.
Irene never fully regained her strength after the birth of the twins. The little energy she had was spent on her daughters. In the evening she read them to sleep. From the time they were babies Irene read to her children from leather bound volumes of the plays of William Shakespeare that her father had left her. Benjamin had once sat in her lap as she read to him. Now she read to the twins and hardly spoke to him unless she was correcting his grammar or giving him another chore. She saw the abuse he received from Grover, but she never spoke of it to either of them.
Little by little the eager young boy disappeared and was replaced by a sullen, withdrawn teenager. The change was so gradual that by the time Irene became aware of the transformation, it was too late.
Scars
Irene walked into the living room followed closely by the twins. “Benjamin, I need for you to keep an eye on Pearl and Rose while I run over to check on your Aunt Sarah. It looks like it might snow and I want to make sure she has enough firewood cut for herself and Jo.”
“Ma, I’ve got to finish reading this and write a report on the Titanic for tomorrow. Can’t you take them with you?”
It was unseasonably cold for late October. The house was chilly except for the kitchen and the area around the wood stove where Benjamin had been working quietly since he got home from school.
“I don’t want to take the girls out in this weather. Keep them here by the fire with you. Keep doing what you’re doing. Just read out loud. They won’t care what you read. My babies just love to be read to, don’t you?”
Two heads bobbed up and down. One was covered with blonde curls, the other with perfectly straight brown hair.
Benjamin slammed his book closed. “I don’t have any time to myself. I don’t even have my own room.” All of his pent-up frustration poured out.
“Benjamin, I don’t have time to discuss this now. I must get over to Sarah’s before dark. Just keep an eye on your sisters until I get back. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Pearl and Rose nervously watched the tension between their mother and Benjamin. At three years old they were old enough to know that something was wrong and that it had something to do with them.
Benjamin swore under his breath. Irene glared at him as she pulled on her heavy jacket and boots. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.” A gust of cold air blew into the room as she left.
“Mama said to read to us.”
“Go to hell, Pearl.”
“I’m telling Mama you said a bad word.”
Benjamin threw the book across the room. “I don’t care what you tell her.” He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Pearl sat down on the carpet in front of the wood stove. “What we going to do now, Rosie?”
“Nothing. He’ll be back.” She stretched out next to Pearl. The house was quiet except for the crackling of the fire. Lulled by the warmth and the silence, both girls soon fell asleep. When they awoke the house was dark and the fire was almost out. Rose stood up, groggily wiping her eyes.
“We better put some more wood on that fire.”
“Mama said not to mess with the fire.”
Rose rolled her eyes at her sister. “Would you rather freeze to death?” She opened the stove.
“Hurry up, Pearl. Drop in a piece of wood.”
Reluctantly, Pearl did as she was told.
“Now throw in some sticks.”
Immediately revived by the dry kindling, the fire leapt through the opening before Rose could drop the cover. “Get out of the way, Pearl!”
Pearl was immobilized. She watched helplessly as flames crawled up the sleeve of her sweater.
She might have died, if Grover had not come in at that instant. He immediately threw Pearl down on the carpet and covered her with is own body, smothering the flames.
When Irene returned from Sarah’s she found Grover cradling his screaming daughter in his arms. “You left them alone!”
“No! I didn’t. Benjamin was here. He was watching them.” She ran over to Rose. “Where is he? Where is your brother, Rose?
“He left us.”
Grover handed Pearl to Irene. “You take her. I’m going to go find him and when I do he’s going to wish he was dead.”
“Grover, wait. Don’t hurt him.” But he was already gone.
She carefully removed the charred sweater. Pearl screamed as her skin peeled away with the sweater. The room was filled with the smell of burned flesh. She cleaned and dressed the burns. The worst were between the wrist and elbow of her left arm. She held Pearl in her lap, gently rocking her until she finally slept. Rose, who had hardly uttered a word while her mother cared for Pearl, watched mutely from the sofa.
The silence was broken when Grover came in, gripping Benjamin by the arm. His face was bloody and his eye was swollen shut.
Irene gasped. “Grover, what have you done?”
“I’m not finished.” He pushed Benjamin roughly to the stove and forced him to his knees. Then he seized his hand and pressed his palm against the hot stove. “How does that feel, you ungrateful little shit?”
Benjamin struggled to free himself but Grover was too strong.
“Grover! Stop it. Let him go.” Powerless, she could only watch as her son’s agony. Finally, Grover let go. Benjamin collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain as his stepfather calmly walked out of the house.
* * *
After that Benjamin seldom acknowledged his sisters or spoke to his mother. When he did, his words echoed the harsh tone of his stepfather. Pearl’s burns healed but they left her arm badly scarred.
Grover continued to leave the house at dawn to tend the fields. When he returned at dusk he usually went straight up to the bedroom only pausing long enough to exchange a few words with Pearl and Rose. “I hope you two stayed out of trouble today?”
“Yes, Papa. We were real good.”
The twins’ earnestness charmed him but he quickly hid his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand. The twins ate supper alone. Benjamin ate on the back porch. Irene took a plate to Grover upstairs and she just picked at what was left while she cleaned up.
In spite of their father’s remoteness, the twins loved him. When he was around they competed for his attention. Irene was astonished when her otherwise calloused husband invited his daughters up on this knees. The girls laughed with glee as he bounced them up and down and chanted, “Ride the old horse. Ride the old horse. Ride the old horse to Baneberry Cross…” It was the only time he smiled.
Irene looked over at Benjamin who was watching Grover play with the twins. “Benjamin, when you were their age, your Papa would bounce you on his knee just like that. You’d laugh and squeal so loud that old Blue would howl his head off.” She paused, remembering how sweet their lives had been. Benjamin turned away without speaking.
The affection between Grover and the girls only intensified Benjamin’s hatred for his stepfather and fueled his resentment for his sisters. Irene hoped that with time Grover’s heart, softened by his daughters, would one day grow to love her and her son but the only time Grover touched her were the rare occasions when he rolled on top of her and pushed himself inside her. She didn’t refuse him, considering it her duty. One night after he had finished and rolled back over to his side of the bed Irene ventured, “Grover, I wish you would spend a little time with Benjamin. I know you’re tired when you get home but it would be nice if the two of you could spend some time together.”
“Irene, those girls are mine. He ain’t. He don’t like me and I don’t like him. That’s the way it is. You might as well accept it. Now be quiet and let me sleep. Dawn comes early, woman.”Irene sighed. As time passed she abandoned any hope that Grover would change
“Ma, I’ve got to finish reading this and write a report on the Titanic for tomorrow. Can’t you take them with you?”
It was unseasonably cold for late October. The house was chilly except for the kitchen and the area around the wood stove where Benjamin had been working quietly since he got home from school.
“I don’t want to take the girls out in this weather. Keep them here by the fire with you. Keep doing what you’re doing. Just read out loud. They won’t care what you read. My babies just love to be read to, don’t you?”
Two heads bobbed up and down. One was covered with blonde curls, the other with perfectly straight brown hair.
Benjamin slammed his book closed. “I don’t have any time to myself. I don’t even have my own room.” All of his pent-up frustration poured out.
“Benjamin, I don’t have time to discuss this now. I must get over to Sarah’s before dark. Just keep an eye on your sisters until I get back. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Pearl and Rose nervously watched the tension between their mother and Benjamin. At three years old they were old enough to know that something was wrong and that it had something to do with them.
Benjamin swore under his breath. Irene glared at him as she pulled on her heavy jacket and boots. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.” A gust of cold air blew into the room as she left.
“Mama said to read to us.”
“Go to hell, Pearl.”
“I’m telling Mama you said a bad word.”
Benjamin threw the book across the room. “I don’t care what you tell her.” He stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
Pearl sat down on the carpet in front of the wood stove. “What we going to do now, Rosie?”
“Nothing. He’ll be back.” She stretched out next to Pearl. The house was quiet except for the crackling of the fire. Lulled by the warmth and the silence, both girls soon fell asleep. When they awoke the house was dark and the fire was almost out. Rose stood up, groggily wiping her eyes.
“We better put some more wood on that fire.”
“Mama said not to mess with the fire.”
Rose rolled her eyes at her sister. “Would you rather freeze to death?” She opened the stove.
“Hurry up, Pearl. Drop in a piece of wood.”
Reluctantly, Pearl did as she was told.
“Now throw in some sticks.”
Immediately revived by the dry kindling, the fire leapt through the opening before Rose could drop the cover. “Get out of the way, Pearl!”
Pearl was immobilized. She watched helplessly as flames crawled up the sleeve of her sweater.
She might have died, if Grover had not come in at that instant. He immediately threw Pearl down on the carpet and covered her with is own body, smothering the flames.
When Irene returned from Sarah’s she found Grover cradling his screaming daughter in his arms. “You left them alone!”
“No! I didn’t. Benjamin was here. He was watching them.” She ran over to Rose. “Where is he? Where is your brother, Rose?
“He left us.”
Grover handed Pearl to Irene. “You take her. I’m going to go find him and when I do he’s going to wish he was dead.”
“Grover, wait. Don’t hurt him.” But he was already gone.
She carefully removed the charred sweater. Pearl screamed as her skin peeled away with the sweater. The room was filled with the smell of burned flesh. She cleaned and dressed the burns. The worst were between the wrist and elbow of her left arm. She held Pearl in her lap, gently rocking her until she finally slept. Rose, who had hardly uttered a word while her mother cared for Pearl, watched mutely from the sofa.
The silence was broken when Grover came in, gripping Benjamin by the arm. His face was bloody and his eye was swollen shut.
Irene gasped. “Grover, what have you done?”
“I’m not finished.” He pushed Benjamin roughly to the stove and forced him to his knees. Then he seized his hand and pressed his palm against the hot stove. “How does that feel, you ungrateful little shit?”
Benjamin struggled to free himself but Grover was too strong.
“Grover! Stop it. Let him go.” Powerless, she could only watch as her son’s agony. Finally, Grover let go. Benjamin collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain as his stepfather calmly walked out of the house.
* * *
After that Benjamin seldom acknowledged his sisters or spoke to his mother. When he did, his words echoed the harsh tone of his stepfather. Pearl’s burns healed but they left her arm badly scarred.
Grover continued to leave the house at dawn to tend the fields. When he returned at dusk he usually went straight up to the bedroom only pausing long enough to exchange a few words with Pearl and Rose. “I hope you two stayed out of trouble today?”
“Yes, Papa. We were real good.”
The twins’ earnestness charmed him but he quickly hid his amusement by covering his mouth with his hand. The twins ate supper alone. Benjamin ate on the back porch. Irene took a plate to Grover upstairs and she just picked at what was left while she cleaned up.
In spite of their father’s remoteness, the twins loved him. When he was around they competed for his attention. Irene was astonished when her otherwise calloused husband invited his daughters up on this knees. The girls laughed with glee as he bounced them up and down and chanted, “Ride the old horse. Ride the old horse. Ride the old horse to Baneberry Cross…” It was the only time he smiled.
Irene looked over at Benjamin who was watching Grover play with the twins. “Benjamin, when you were their age, your Papa would bounce you on his knee just like that. You’d laugh and squeal so loud that old Blue would howl his head off.” She paused, remembering how sweet their lives had been. Benjamin turned away without speaking.
The affection between Grover and the girls only intensified Benjamin’s hatred for his stepfather and fueled his resentment for his sisters. Irene hoped that with time Grover’s heart, softened by his daughters, would one day grow to love her and her son but the only time Grover touched her were the rare occasions when he rolled on top of her and pushed himself inside her. She didn’t refuse him, considering it her duty. One night after he had finished and rolled back over to his side of the bed Irene ventured, “Grover, I wish you would spend a little time with Benjamin. I know you’re tired when you get home but it would be nice if the two of you could spend some time together.”
“Irene, those girls are mine. He ain’t. He don’t like me and I don’t like him. That’s the way it is. You might as well accept it. Now be quiet and let me sleep. Dawn comes early, woman.”Irene sighed. As time passed she abandoned any hope that Grover would change
The Man of the House
Brick Howard came around to the dock late on a Saturday afternoon in his new Packard Chris Craft. He called to Grover who was up on the shore playing with the four-year twins. “Come on, Grover. I’ll take you for a ride. Bring your girls along.”
Irene put her foot down. “He’s drunk as a skunk, Grover, You’re not taking my girls out on that boat and if you have half a brain in your head you won’t go either.”
Grover didn’t listen. “Hold on, Brick. Let me get my shoes and I’ll be right there.” He glared at Irene as he walked past her and through the screen door. He opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink and took out his bottle of Jim Beam and tucked it under his arm. Irene had embarrassed him in front of Brick. He didn’t speak to her but he kissed the twins and climbed into Brick’s boat.
When Grover wasn’t home by nightfall, Irene didn’t worry. It wasn’t the first time he’s missed supper. She knew that her husband sometimes came to her straight from another woman’s bed but she had learned not to mind. In fact she welcomed the reprieve from the rough intercourse.
She was awakened by a knock at the back door. She lit a lantern and buttoned her robe as she hurried to the kitchen. She opened the door and stepped back as the sheriff and two men she didn’t know entered the room.
The sheriff removed his hat. “Irene, I’m afraid I have some hard news to give you.”
Irene didn’t speak. She clutched the neck of her gown.
The sheriff continued. “Irene. Grover is gone.”
At first she thought he meant he had run away but then it began to sink in. Grover was dead.
“Best we can tell, Irene, they hit the breakwater off Belhaven. Brick and Grover were both probably killed instantly.”
Irene found the chair with her hand and lowered herself onto the seat.
“Irene, do you want me to go get your sister to come stay with you?”
She shook her head. “No, sheriff. I’ll be all right. Thank you for coming sheriff. It was kind of you.” It occurred to her that this was the second time the sheriff had stood in her kitchen and told her she was a widow.
After the men left, Irene sat in her kitchen for a long time before she got up, lit a fire and set a cauldron of water over it. While it was boiling she went to her bed and stripped off the sheets and carried them to her laundry tub. When Benjamin woke up she found his mother furiously scrubbing the sheets against her washboard.
* * *
16-year-old Benjamin was again thrust into the role of man of the house. He was no longer a child and he refused to be treated like one. He made up his mind that he would quit school and take care of the farm.
“You can’t quit school. I won’t hear of it. We’ll manage. It won’t be easy, but you will not quit school and that it final.”
“Ma will you be practical for once in your life? What are you planning to do? Plow those fields all by yourself while I sit in a classroom reading Shakespeare? I can see it now. In the evening we can put on plays for the twins.” Benjamin laughed. It was s derisive laugh. The laugh that sounded exactly like Grover’s.
Irene stood up. “I won’t have you speaking to me like that. I’m your mother.”
His mother had just buried her second husband. At forty-eight, she was an old woman. For a moment he almost felt pity for her.
“Benjamin, I know you’re just trying to act grown up but you are a boy. It’s not going to be easy for any of us but things without all remedy should be without regard. What’s done is done.”
Benjamin shook his head. Leave it to her to quote Shakespeare in the middle of a crisis. “Damn it, Mama, why don’t you just find yourself a new husband like you did when my daddy died?”
“Benjamin, I won’t have you speaking to me like that. I’m your mother. You are going to stay in school. I’ve said all I am going to say. The matter is settled.”
“Mama. I’m done with school. I can’t afford to have dreams anymore. Neither of us can. You made too many bad choices.”
Irene slammed her hand down on the table. She got up and walked toward her son. “Benjamin, you will do as I tell you. The matter is closed. Please don’t try my patience. What’s done is done.”In spite of her protests, Benjamin quit school. He got up at dawn and went to the fields. He no longer had time to tend to the animals. That task, that had once brought him such joy, now relegated to the twins.
Irene put her foot down. “He’s drunk as a skunk, Grover, You’re not taking my girls out on that boat and if you have half a brain in your head you won’t go either.”
Grover didn’t listen. “Hold on, Brick. Let me get my shoes and I’ll be right there.” He glared at Irene as he walked past her and through the screen door. He opened the cabinet under the kitchen sink and took out his bottle of Jim Beam and tucked it under his arm. Irene had embarrassed him in front of Brick. He didn’t speak to her but he kissed the twins and climbed into Brick’s boat.
When Grover wasn’t home by nightfall, Irene didn’t worry. It wasn’t the first time he’s missed supper. She knew that her husband sometimes came to her straight from another woman’s bed but she had learned not to mind. In fact she welcomed the reprieve from the rough intercourse.
She was awakened by a knock at the back door. She lit a lantern and buttoned her robe as she hurried to the kitchen. She opened the door and stepped back as the sheriff and two men she didn’t know entered the room.
The sheriff removed his hat. “Irene, I’m afraid I have some hard news to give you.”
Irene didn’t speak. She clutched the neck of her gown.
The sheriff continued. “Irene. Grover is gone.”
At first she thought he meant he had run away but then it began to sink in. Grover was dead.
“Best we can tell, Irene, they hit the breakwater off Belhaven. Brick and Grover were both probably killed instantly.”
Irene found the chair with her hand and lowered herself onto the seat.
“Irene, do you want me to go get your sister to come stay with you?”
She shook her head. “No, sheriff. I’ll be all right. Thank you for coming sheriff. It was kind of you.” It occurred to her that this was the second time the sheriff had stood in her kitchen and told her she was a widow.
After the men left, Irene sat in her kitchen for a long time before she got up, lit a fire and set a cauldron of water over it. While it was boiling she went to her bed and stripped off the sheets and carried them to her laundry tub. When Benjamin woke up she found his mother furiously scrubbing the sheets against her washboard.
* * *
16-year-old Benjamin was again thrust into the role of man of the house. He was no longer a child and he refused to be treated like one. He made up his mind that he would quit school and take care of the farm.
“You can’t quit school. I won’t hear of it. We’ll manage. It won’t be easy, but you will not quit school and that it final.”
“Ma will you be practical for once in your life? What are you planning to do? Plow those fields all by yourself while I sit in a classroom reading Shakespeare? I can see it now. In the evening we can put on plays for the twins.” Benjamin laughed. It was s derisive laugh. The laugh that sounded exactly like Grover’s.
Irene stood up. “I won’t have you speaking to me like that. I’m your mother.”
His mother had just buried her second husband. At forty-eight, she was an old woman. For a moment he almost felt pity for her.
“Benjamin, I know you’re just trying to act grown up but you are a boy. It’s not going to be easy for any of us but things without all remedy should be without regard. What’s done is done.”
Benjamin shook his head. Leave it to her to quote Shakespeare in the middle of a crisis. “Damn it, Mama, why don’t you just find yourself a new husband like you did when my daddy died?”
“Benjamin, I won’t have you speaking to me like that. I’m your mother. You are going to stay in school. I’ve said all I am going to say. The matter is settled.”
“Mama. I’m done with school. I can’t afford to have dreams anymore. Neither of us can. You made too many bad choices.”
Irene slammed her hand down on the table. She got up and walked toward her son. “Benjamin, you will do as I tell you. The matter is closed. Please don’t try my patience. What’s done is done.”In spite of her protests, Benjamin quit school. He got up at dawn and went to the fields. He no longer had time to tend to the animals. That task, that had once brought him such joy, now relegated to the twins.
The Doll Maker
Pearl and Rose quickly learned it was wise to stay out of Benjamin’s sight. As soon as they were old enough to handle a skiff they started rowing across the creek to visit their Aunt Sarah at every opportunity. She lived with her daughter Jo in a tiny house. Their house was no larger than a child’s playhouse. There was a wood-burning stove in the middle if the one room house. Sarah used it for cooking and heating.
She was a doll maker. That was how she made her living. She had an old Singer sewing machine that she operated with a foot treadle. Her neighbors carried the dolls to stores in Belhaven, Plymouth and Pantego – sometimes as far away as Norfolk. She could turn out two or three dolls a week. She called them her Jo Dolls.
The twins loved visiting Sarah. They admired the dolls that were lined up on every available surface. Some of the dolls were nearly as big as they were. Each one had its own special outfit. No two were alike.
“Don’t touch the dolls, girls. They’re all for sale.”
“I want a Jo doll, Aunt Sarah. Why can’t I have a Jo doll?” Pearl crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. She looked just like Benjamin looked when he was five years old and he didn’t get his way. “Poor Benjamin” Sarah thought to herself. “It has been a long time since that boy has gotten his way.”
“Come here Pearl. You know I would love to give you one of those dolls, but they’re all that stands between me and the poor house. You wouldn’t want your old Aunt Sarah in the poor house, would you?”
“No, Aunt Sarah” she said shaking her curly blond head.
She ran her fingers through Pearl’s hair. “Child, if I could make a Jo doll with a head of hair like you’ve got I could sell her for a pretty penny.” She noticed the frown on her sister’s face and quickly touched Rose’s straight dark hair. “You’re both a couple of doll babies.”
Sarah loved things that other people couldn’t love because she saw things that other people couldn’t see. She loved Bandit. Other people saw an ugly bulldog, always underfoot, constantly drooling. Sarah saw something beautiful and adored the repulsive old dog. Sarah had loved Harvey. Other people had seen an unshaven alcoholic, lounging in his rocking chair– a cigarette dangling from the corner of his frown. Sarah had seen a loving husband and she missed him when his liver finally gave out and he died.
After Harvey died, Sarah was left alone to care for her only daughter. Jo was as helpless as a doll. An injury at birth had left her brain severely damaged. She was unable to speak, walk or care for herself. She was nineteen and had spent her life tied securely to a wrought iron bed.
Pearl and Rose watched from a safe distance as their aunt brushed Jo’s hair. “Don’t get too close to her bed, darlings. She might kick you.” Aunt Sarah warned them. They were deathly afraid of Jo but they crept close enough to peek at their wild-eyed cousin. Jo’s thin nightgown was hitched up above her hips showing her diaper. Her long dark hair spread over the pillow. She rolled her head from one side to the other. Incoherent sounds came from her gaping mouth. As Sarah stroked her hair, she stopped thrashing, her eyes looked less wild. Jo never kicked or bit Sarah.
Sarah shifted the full grown woman, removed the wet diaper and replaced it with a fresh one. The stench was not masked by the dusting powder that Sarah sprinkled on Jo’s legs. “There you go, sweetheart, dry again.” She leaned down and kissed Jo on her forehead.
She was a doll maker. That was how she made her living. She had an old Singer sewing machine that she operated with a foot treadle. Her neighbors carried the dolls to stores in Belhaven, Plymouth and Pantego – sometimes as far away as Norfolk. She could turn out two or three dolls a week. She called them her Jo Dolls.
The twins loved visiting Sarah. They admired the dolls that were lined up on every available surface. Some of the dolls were nearly as big as they were. Each one had its own special outfit. No two were alike.
“Don’t touch the dolls, girls. They’re all for sale.”
“I want a Jo doll, Aunt Sarah. Why can’t I have a Jo doll?” Pearl crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. She looked just like Benjamin looked when he was five years old and he didn’t get his way. “Poor Benjamin” Sarah thought to herself. “It has been a long time since that boy has gotten his way.”
“Come here Pearl. You know I would love to give you one of those dolls, but they’re all that stands between me and the poor house. You wouldn’t want your old Aunt Sarah in the poor house, would you?”
“No, Aunt Sarah” she said shaking her curly blond head.
She ran her fingers through Pearl’s hair. “Child, if I could make a Jo doll with a head of hair like you’ve got I could sell her for a pretty penny.” She noticed the frown on her sister’s face and quickly touched Rose’s straight dark hair. “You’re both a couple of doll babies.”
Sarah loved things that other people couldn’t love because she saw things that other people couldn’t see. She loved Bandit. Other people saw an ugly bulldog, always underfoot, constantly drooling. Sarah saw something beautiful and adored the repulsive old dog. Sarah had loved Harvey. Other people had seen an unshaven alcoholic, lounging in his rocking chair– a cigarette dangling from the corner of his frown. Sarah had seen a loving husband and she missed him when his liver finally gave out and he died.
After Harvey died, Sarah was left alone to care for her only daughter. Jo was as helpless as a doll. An injury at birth had left her brain severely damaged. She was unable to speak, walk or care for herself. She was nineteen and had spent her life tied securely to a wrought iron bed.
Pearl and Rose watched from a safe distance as their aunt brushed Jo’s hair. “Don’t get too close to her bed, darlings. She might kick you.” Aunt Sarah warned them. They were deathly afraid of Jo but they crept close enough to peek at their wild-eyed cousin. Jo’s thin nightgown was hitched up above her hips showing her diaper. Her long dark hair spread over the pillow. She rolled her head from one side to the other. Incoherent sounds came from her gaping mouth. As Sarah stroked her hair, she stopped thrashing, her eyes looked less wild. Jo never kicked or bit Sarah.
Sarah shifted the full grown woman, removed the wet diaper and replaced it with a fresh one. The stench was not masked by the dusting powder that Sarah sprinkled on Jo’s legs. “There you go, sweetheart, dry again.” She leaned down and kissed Jo on her forehead.
A Visit From Sarah
Irene was cooking dinner when she saw Sarah walking up the dock where she had tied up her skiff. She had large parcels tucked under each arm. Irene greeted her sister on the porch.
“Sister, you are a sight for sore eyes. Come on in and sit down. Let me get you something cool to drink. What have you got there? ”
“Glory be, Little Sister, if you’ll stop flapping your gums and let me catch my breath, I’ll tell you.” She laughed. “Geraldine volunteered to sit with Jo for a bit. Bless her heart. She’s as skittish as a colt around Jo. I reckon she was counting on my turning her down but I needed to get out of the house for a few hours. I needed to see you and your girls.”
Irene gave her sister a spontaneous hug and then, without any warning, she began to cry. “Oh, Sarah, it is just so good to see you. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What’s wrong, Sister? Is something the matter with the girls?”
“It’s not the girls, Sarah. It’s Benjamin. He gets more hateful everyday. He’s just as mean as he can be – striding about, giving orders just like Grover did. Sarah, he even sounds like Grover.”
“Irene, be sensible. He’s just a boy trying to act like a man the only way he knows how."
Sarah kissed her sister. “Maybe what I have here will cheer your girls up a little. I brought them each a Jo doll.”
“Oh, Sarah, you shouldn’t have. It’s too much. Why there’s a week’s worth of work in those dolls.”
“To be sure, but it isn’t everyday my little angels turn six years old.”
“Their birthday is a week away.”
“I know that, but after I finished these dolls I just couldn’t wait to give them to Pearl and Rose. Can’t an old woman be impulsive now and then?”
“Oh, Sister. You aren’t an old woman. I wish I had half your energy.”
Sarah laughed as she placed her packages on the kitchen table. Irene’s features relaxed into a smile. One of her few pleasures were the infrequent visits with her sister.
Sarah looked at Irene. Her sister was looking worn. Her face was drawn and she had dark circles under her eyes. She was thinner than she remembered.
“Sarah, they are going to just burst when they see what you’ve brought them.”
“Where are my little darlings anyway?”
“They’re up in the barn. I expect they’ll be finished with their chores directly. You’re staying for dinner aren’t you, Sarah?”
“Of course I’m staying for dinner and I’m mighty hungry too. What can I do to help you?”
“You just sit there and keep me company.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice” she said sitting down at the table. “Where is that cool drink you promised me? I could do with a glass of water after that trip across the creek. It seems to get wider as I get older.”
Irene placed a glass of water in front of her sister and sat down across from her. “Well, Benjamin gets meaner as I get older.” She smiled but they both knew it wasn’t a laughing matter. “The girls still miss their father. I know Grover wasn’t a kind man but he loved those girls and they worshipped him. I see them trying to get close to Benjamin, but he won’t have anything to do with them.”
Just then the back door flew open and Pearl came running in with Pearl right behind her. “Rosie! Aunt Sarah is here!”
“I got eyes, don’t I?” said Rose running over and kissing her Aunt’s cheek.
“What’s that, Aunt Sarah?” asked Pearl, pointing to the packages on the table.
“Just a little something for my favorite nieces.”
“We’re your only nieces,” she laughed as she reached for the closest bundle.
Irene took hold of her daughter’s hands. “Hold on, Pearl. I think you better wash those dirty hands before you touch anything. You too, Rose.”
The twins groaned, but ran over to the sink, washed their hands and hurried back to receive their presents.
“Have you been good girls for your Mama?”
Both girls nodded enthusiastically.
“And can you tell me how old you are going to be next week?”
“Yes! Six!” Pearl held up six fingers. “And then we can go to school and we can read books.”
“Well school won’t be starting for a bit and you might need something to keep you out of mischief until then” she said handing them their presents. The girls tore off the twine and ripped off the brown wrapping paper.
“Jo Dolls,” they screamed in unison and immediately settled themselves at their Aunt’s feet.
“Sarah, remember that doll Mama gave me when I was their age? I wonder what every happened to that doll. You had one too. She made dresses for the dolls out of the same material she made our dresses from. My doll had a lavender plaid dress. Yours had a yellow dress.”
“It was gold. I remember. The dolls had porcelain faces, painted lips and blue eyes…and yellow hair – like Pearl has.”
Rose scowled and looked at her Jo doll. Her aunt had given her doll brown hair like her own. The yarn was cut short to resemble her own cropped hair. Pearl’s doll had long braids made of yellow yarn.
“Irene, I’ll bet those dolls are in the pack shed behind the old tenant house. We should take a walk down there after supper and see if we can find them. No telling what’s stored out there.”
“I went through those things after Daddy died. Field mice had ruined most of it. I did find our old Captain Billy Whiz Bang comic books. Remember those? I gave them to Benjamin. He loved them. Insisted on reading them to his father – over and over. Caleb didn’t mind. He was so proud of Benjamin. You know Caleb was ashamed that he’d never learned to read himself. He had such big dreams for Benjamin.”
Irene paused.
“Heavens, Sarah. I sure got wound up, didn’t I? I’d better get back to my cooking or we won’t be eating tonight.”
Benjamin walked into the house after a long day in the fields and found the twins playing with their dolls on the kitchen floor and his mother setting the table. A pot of collard greens was cooking on the stove. Benjamin ignored his Aunt, reached down and grabbed the dolls out of the twin’s hands and threw them against the wall. “Time for you two to grow up. No more playing with dolls. You have to pull your weight too. I’ve been breaking my back while you two play with your stupid dolls.”
“Benjamin! I know you’re tired but don’t take it out on your sisters. They’re just babies.”
“They’re nearly six. Old enough to contribute.” Benjamin sat down at the kitchen table. “Pearl, bring me a glass of water. And be quick about it.”
“Benjamin. Your Aunt Sarah is here. She brought them those dolls. You apologize to her for your rudeness and remove your hat.”
“I ain’t apologizing to nobody,” he growled as he scraped back his chair and stormed out the door.
“I hate him,” whispered Pearl, retrieving the dolls from where they had landed. Rose took her doll and checked it carefully for damage.
“You girls take your dolls in the other room. I want to talk to your mama. We’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
Sarah beckoned to her sister. “Come here, Irene. Sit down. We need to talk. Is he always that bad?”
Irene nodded, buried her face in her hands and cried. “I know he’s mad at me but I didn’t want him to quit school. It was his decision, but what choice did I give him?
“Well, Irene, you could have sold this old place and moved into Belhaven. You could still do that. Benjamin could go back to school.”
Irene wiped her face on her apron and shook her head.
“Sarah, I would never sell this farm. Why we were born in this house, Sarah. Daddy built this house with his own hands. He made this table.” She ran her hands over the rough surface of the kitchen table. “This is all I have left of him.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “No, Sarah. There has to be another way. I won’t sell Daddy’s house. I’ll never part with this house. I know it never meant the same to you, but I was born in this house and I’ll die in this house.”
* * *
Benjamin was sitting on the back porch swing when Pearl came out with his plate. “Here’s your supper, Brother,” she said, carefully balancing the plate. “Mama says she wishes you would come in and eat with us since Aunt Sarah it visiting.”
“I prefer my own company. Now scat.”
Pearl stood there a minute watching her brother eat his supper. “Haven’t you got something better to do?” he snarled at her.
Pearl shook her head. “I have something to ask you, Benjamin. After you finish your supper will you play with me?”
“Get lost, kid. Your ugly face is ruining my appetite.”
Irene was watching from the window. She turned to her sister. “Sarah” she whispered. “I just don’t know what I am going to do with that boy.”
“He has just been wounded, Irene. You can’t see the scars, but they are there. And he’s not a boy anymore. He’s nearly grown. Look at him. Soon he’ll be married with children of his own. God help us, Irene. It just goes on and on.”
* * *
Pearl was alone in the kitchen washing the supper dishes when Benjamin came in from the back porch. She had to stand on a chair to reach the sink. Benjamin dropped his dirty dishes into soapy water. With the toe of his boot he pushed the chair causing it to wobble. Pearl lost her balance and grabbed Benjamin’s shoulder to keep from falling. Benjamin wrapped his arm around Pearl’s waist.
“What did you push me for, Benjamin?”
“You said you wanted me to play with you, didn’t you?” Benjamin did not let go of Pearl. He ran his hand up under her dress. “Didn’t you want me to play with you, Pearl?”
Pearl squirmed out of her brother’s grasp and hopped down from the stool.
“I’m going to tell Mama, Benjamin.”
“No you’re not because if you do I am going to take that pretty doll that Aunt Sarah gave you and throw it in the creek. Now you get back up there and finish washing these dishes and stop acting like a baby.”
“Sister, you are a sight for sore eyes. Come on in and sit down. Let me get you something cool to drink. What have you got there? ”
“Glory be, Little Sister, if you’ll stop flapping your gums and let me catch my breath, I’ll tell you.” She laughed. “Geraldine volunteered to sit with Jo for a bit. Bless her heart. She’s as skittish as a colt around Jo. I reckon she was counting on my turning her down but I needed to get out of the house for a few hours. I needed to see you and your girls.”
Irene gave her sister a spontaneous hug and then, without any warning, she began to cry. “Oh, Sarah, it is just so good to see you. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What’s wrong, Sister? Is something the matter with the girls?”
“It’s not the girls, Sarah. It’s Benjamin. He gets more hateful everyday. He’s just as mean as he can be – striding about, giving orders just like Grover did. Sarah, he even sounds like Grover.”
“Irene, be sensible. He’s just a boy trying to act like a man the only way he knows how."
Sarah kissed her sister. “Maybe what I have here will cheer your girls up a little. I brought them each a Jo doll.”
“Oh, Sarah, you shouldn’t have. It’s too much. Why there’s a week’s worth of work in those dolls.”
“To be sure, but it isn’t everyday my little angels turn six years old.”
“Their birthday is a week away.”
“I know that, but after I finished these dolls I just couldn’t wait to give them to Pearl and Rose. Can’t an old woman be impulsive now and then?”
“Oh, Sister. You aren’t an old woman. I wish I had half your energy.”
Sarah laughed as she placed her packages on the kitchen table. Irene’s features relaxed into a smile. One of her few pleasures were the infrequent visits with her sister.
Sarah looked at Irene. Her sister was looking worn. Her face was drawn and she had dark circles under her eyes. She was thinner than she remembered.
“Sarah, they are going to just burst when they see what you’ve brought them.”
“Where are my little darlings anyway?”
“They’re up in the barn. I expect they’ll be finished with their chores directly. You’re staying for dinner aren’t you, Sarah?”
“Of course I’m staying for dinner and I’m mighty hungry too. What can I do to help you?”
“You just sit there and keep me company.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice” she said sitting down at the table. “Where is that cool drink you promised me? I could do with a glass of water after that trip across the creek. It seems to get wider as I get older.”
Irene placed a glass of water in front of her sister and sat down across from her. “Well, Benjamin gets meaner as I get older.” She smiled but they both knew it wasn’t a laughing matter. “The girls still miss their father. I know Grover wasn’t a kind man but he loved those girls and they worshipped him. I see them trying to get close to Benjamin, but he won’t have anything to do with them.”
Just then the back door flew open and Pearl came running in with Pearl right behind her. “Rosie! Aunt Sarah is here!”
“I got eyes, don’t I?” said Rose running over and kissing her Aunt’s cheek.
“What’s that, Aunt Sarah?” asked Pearl, pointing to the packages on the table.
“Just a little something for my favorite nieces.”
“We’re your only nieces,” she laughed as she reached for the closest bundle.
Irene took hold of her daughter’s hands. “Hold on, Pearl. I think you better wash those dirty hands before you touch anything. You too, Rose.”
The twins groaned, but ran over to the sink, washed their hands and hurried back to receive their presents.
“Have you been good girls for your Mama?”
Both girls nodded enthusiastically.
“And can you tell me how old you are going to be next week?”
“Yes! Six!” Pearl held up six fingers. “And then we can go to school and we can read books.”
“Well school won’t be starting for a bit and you might need something to keep you out of mischief until then” she said handing them their presents. The girls tore off the twine and ripped off the brown wrapping paper.
“Jo Dolls,” they screamed in unison and immediately settled themselves at their Aunt’s feet.
“Sarah, remember that doll Mama gave me when I was their age? I wonder what every happened to that doll. You had one too. She made dresses for the dolls out of the same material she made our dresses from. My doll had a lavender plaid dress. Yours had a yellow dress.”
“It was gold. I remember. The dolls had porcelain faces, painted lips and blue eyes…and yellow hair – like Pearl has.”
Rose scowled and looked at her Jo doll. Her aunt had given her doll brown hair like her own. The yarn was cut short to resemble her own cropped hair. Pearl’s doll had long braids made of yellow yarn.
“Irene, I’ll bet those dolls are in the pack shed behind the old tenant house. We should take a walk down there after supper and see if we can find them. No telling what’s stored out there.”
“I went through those things after Daddy died. Field mice had ruined most of it. I did find our old Captain Billy Whiz Bang comic books. Remember those? I gave them to Benjamin. He loved them. Insisted on reading them to his father – over and over. Caleb didn’t mind. He was so proud of Benjamin. You know Caleb was ashamed that he’d never learned to read himself. He had such big dreams for Benjamin.”
Irene paused.
“Heavens, Sarah. I sure got wound up, didn’t I? I’d better get back to my cooking or we won’t be eating tonight.”
Benjamin walked into the house after a long day in the fields and found the twins playing with their dolls on the kitchen floor and his mother setting the table. A pot of collard greens was cooking on the stove. Benjamin ignored his Aunt, reached down and grabbed the dolls out of the twin’s hands and threw them against the wall. “Time for you two to grow up. No more playing with dolls. You have to pull your weight too. I’ve been breaking my back while you two play with your stupid dolls.”
“Benjamin! I know you’re tired but don’t take it out on your sisters. They’re just babies.”
“They’re nearly six. Old enough to contribute.” Benjamin sat down at the kitchen table. “Pearl, bring me a glass of water. And be quick about it.”
“Benjamin. Your Aunt Sarah is here. She brought them those dolls. You apologize to her for your rudeness and remove your hat.”
“I ain’t apologizing to nobody,” he growled as he scraped back his chair and stormed out the door.
“I hate him,” whispered Pearl, retrieving the dolls from where they had landed. Rose took her doll and checked it carefully for damage.
“You girls take your dolls in the other room. I want to talk to your mama. We’ll call you when supper’s ready.”
Sarah beckoned to her sister. “Come here, Irene. Sit down. We need to talk. Is he always that bad?”
Irene nodded, buried her face in her hands and cried. “I know he’s mad at me but I didn’t want him to quit school. It was his decision, but what choice did I give him?
“Well, Irene, you could have sold this old place and moved into Belhaven. You could still do that. Benjamin could go back to school.”
Irene wiped her face on her apron and shook her head.
“Sarah, I would never sell this farm. Why we were born in this house, Sarah. Daddy built this house with his own hands. He made this table.” She ran her hands over the rough surface of the kitchen table. “This is all I have left of him.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “No, Sarah. There has to be another way. I won’t sell Daddy’s house. I’ll never part with this house. I know it never meant the same to you, but I was born in this house and I’ll die in this house.”
* * *
Benjamin was sitting on the back porch swing when Pearl came out with his plate. “Here’s your supper, Brother,” she said, carefully balancing the plate. “Mama says she wishes you would come in and eat with us since Aunt Sarah it visiting.”
“I prefer my own company. Now scat.”
Pearl stood there a minute watching her brother eat his supper. “Haven’t you got something better to do?” he snarled at her.
Pearl shook her head. “I have something to ask you, Benjamin. After you finish your supper will you play with me?”
“Get lost, kid. Your ugly face is ruining my appetite.”
Irene was watching from the window. She turned to her sister. “Sarah” she whispered. “I just don’t know what I am going to do with that boy.”
“He has just been wounded, Irene. You can’t see the scars, but they are there. And he’s not a boy anymore. He’s nearly grown. Look at him. Soon he’ll be married with children of his own. God help us, Irene. It just goes on and on.”
* * *
Pearl was alone in the kitchen washing the supper dishes when Benjamin came in from the back porch. She had to stand on a chair to reach the sink. Benjamin dropped his dirty dishes into soapy water. With the toe of his boot he pushed the chair causing it to wobble. Pearl lost her balance and grabbed Benjamin’s shoulder to keep from falling. Benjamin wrapped his arm around Pearl’s waist.
“What did you push me for, Benjamin?”
“You said you wanted me to play with you, didn’t you?” Benjamin did not let go of Pearl. He ran his hand up under her dress. “Didn’t you want me to play with you, Pearl?”
Pearl squirmed out of her brother’s grasp and hopped down from the stool.
“I’m going to tell Mama, Benjamin.”
“No you’re not because if you do I am going to take that pretty doll that Aunt Sarah gave you and throw it in the creek. Now you get back up there and finish washing these dishes and stop acting like a baby.”
Jo Dies
A few days after Sarah’s visit, their talk still weighed on Irene’s mine. She regretted some of the things she had said to her sister. Sarah was not the kind to show hurt feelings but Irene was afraid that her response to her sister’s suggestion that she sell the house might have stung her. She should never have said that the house didn’t mean the same to Sarah that it did to her. She need not have worried. Sarah would have been the first to admit that the farm didn’t mean to her what it meant to Irene. In fact, she had left at the first opportunity.
From the minute Sarah laid eyes on Harvey Hardee she had begun mentally packing her bags to leave Pungo Creek. Maybe that’s what had attracted her to Harvey in the first place. He was from someplace else.
Sarah was thirty-six. She had just about resigned herself to dying an old maid when she quite literally bumped into Harvey during a shopping trip to Belhaven. She dropped her handbag and the parcels she had just purchased in O’Neal’s Drug Store. He picked them up and handed them to her. “Sorry Ma’am” he said, tipping his hat. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“No, Sir. I’m just fine.” Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome stranger. He had dark curly hair and he was so tall that she had to crane her neck to see his face.
“Are you sure? You look a little unsteady.” Sarah couldn’t tell him that his green eyes and his smile were making her wobbly.
“I’m just fine sir.” She repeated. Then she boldly extended her hand. “My name is Sarah Foreman. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m Harvey Hardee.”
“What brings you to Belhaven?”
“A business venture. I am considering purchasing Mr. Sewell’s hardware store.”
“I didn’t know he was selling his store.”
“Neither does he” Harvey laughed.
Sarah soon discovered that Harvey Hardee always got what he wanted. He told her he already owned a hardware store in Portsmouth, Virginia. What he didn’t tell her was that he had bought the store with money he had embezzled from the previous owner while managing the store.
“I’m thinking of selling the store in Portsmouth and moving down here where it’s peaceful and the women are pretty.”
Sarah turned berry red. Harvey grinned down at the pretty farm girl before him. She looked ripe for the picking. “Why don’t you let me buy you an ice cream and you can tell me all about your little town.”
Without waiting for her response Harvey took her elbow steered her back into O’Neal’s Drug Store.
Mr. Sewell sold Harvey the store and before the paint was dry on the new sign Sarah was setting up housekeeping in the tiny apartment over “Hardee’s Hardware”.
Irene hadn’t blamed her sister for wanting a place of her own. Even though Sarah had never complained, Irene had known she had not been comfortable in the house on Pungo Creek after Irene had married Caleb and the two of them had moved into the bedroom she and her sister had shared. Sarah had moved into the front room parlor next to her father’s bedroom. The sisters had looked after the house while their father and Caleb took care of the farm. As time passed Sarah felt she no longer belonged there. She felt like an intruder in the house where she’d been raised.
When Sarah told Irene she was pregnant, she was thrilled for her, but a little envious too. “Why Sister, Caleb and I have been trying to have a child for five years and here you are going to give Daddy his first grand baby right away.”
Sarah was well aware of their efforts. The thin walls couldn’t muffle the sound of their lovemaking. Sarah was surprised by her prim sister’s passion, but she’d been astonished by her own. Harvey’s first touch unlocked desire in her that she had not known existed. Harvey had been a skillful lover. He’d introduced Sarah to the joy of lovemaking and she had greedily accepted his instruction.
Eight months after Sarah became Mrs. Harvey Hardee, Jo Ann was born.
There were complications with the delivery. Sarah had been alone when her labor started. She was already in delivery when the doctor arrived. The umbilical cord wrapped around the baby’s neck and she was deprived of oxygen. Jo Ann was left severely brain damaged. The doctor was honest with Sarah. “It’s unlikely your daughter will ever walk or talk. She’ll always have the brain of an infant. I’m sorry, Sarah. There was nothing I could do.”
For the first few months Sarah hoped the doctor had been wrong. Each morning she carried Jo down to the hardware store where she slept in a basket on the counter.
Jo was a beautiful baby. She had Harvey’s curly black hair and Sarah’s grey eyes. People came into the store for nails and flypaper and stayed to coo and cluck at Sarah’s child.
Harvey, who had been content from the beginning to let his wife run the store, spent less and less time there. Instead, he stayed upstairs and drank. He avoided his daughter.
“Harvey, just take her in your arms. She won’t break.”
But Jo was already broken and Sarah’s love – as strong as it was – could not mend her.
As the years passed, Jo grew but remained as an infant. Caleb built a special chair for her so Irene could keep Jo with her in the store. She now had full responsibility for the business. Sarah made excuses for her husband. “Irene, it’s been hard on Harvey. You don’t know how much he blames himself – for what happened. Just give him some time.” But Harvey’s drinking continued to worsen and his health began to fail. He only left the apartment to get more whiskey or to gamble in the smoky backroom of the pool hall. By the time Sarah saw her husband for what he was, it was too late. Alcohol had transformed her once handsome husband into an unshaven, quarrelsome recluse.
Soon after Jo’s eighth birthday Harvey died. He was only 47 years old. The same kindly doctor who had delivered her daughter tried to comfort Sarah again. “It was his liver. It just gave out.” What he didn’t say was what the whole town was saying – that it was a blessing he died before he passed out holding a lit cigarette and killed them all.
Sarah had still not recovered from Harvey’s death when more bad news came. Harvey’s gambling had been worse than she had known. His debts had mounted over the years. The store was heavily mortgaged and there was no way Sarah could save it.
“What on earth are you going to do, Sister?” Irene was furious with her dead brother-in-law. “I’d dig the bastard up and kill him again if I could.”
“Irene! Please don’t talk that way about Harvey. He couldn’t help the way he was. The Lord will provide for my Jo and me. I don’t doubt Him.”
It was Caleb who provided. “My Daddy’s old place over in Sidney is sitting empty. I could put a new roof on it and fix the windows.”
“Nonsense! Sarah will move in with us.”
“Irene. Be sensible. You with a six year old boy and a husband to look after?” Sarah turned to her brother-in-law. “I would be grateful if you would fix up your Daddy’s place for me – very grateful.”
* * *
As Irene rowed across the creek that morning, she sensed something was wrong. As she approached the landing in front of Sarah’s house she shivered in spite of the warm June day.
She found her sister she found her sitting next to Jo’s bed. She understood immediately the cause of her premonition. Jo was dead. Irene had already fixed her hair and dressed her in a gold print dress. Death had relaxed Jo’s contorted features. She looked almost beautiful. “I want to get her a nice stone, Irene. I was thinking of a baby lamb or an angel. I know she’d have been twenty her next birthday, but she was always my baby girl.”
Irene put her arms around her sister and together they wept. They wept for their lost loves and their lost dreams.
Irene buried Jo in the little cemetery next to Sidney Free Will Baptist Church. She lay beside Harvey – not far away lay Sarah and Irene’s mother and father. Nearby Caleb and Grover rested side by side like brothers. Sarah and Irene stood near Jo’s grave. Sarah smiled sadly.
“Between us, we’re filling up this little graveyard, Sister.”
From the minute Sarah laid eyes on Harvey Hardee she had begun mentally packing her bags to leave Pungo Creek. Maybe that’s what had attracted her to Harvey in the first place. He was from someplace else.
Sarah was thirty-six. She had just about resigned herself to dying an old maid when she quite literally bumped into Harvey during a shopping trip to Belhaven. She dropped her handbag and the parcels she had just purchased in O’Neal’s Drug Store. He picked them up and handed them to her. “Sorry Ma’am” he said, tipping his hat. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“No, Sir. I’m just fine.” Sarah couldn’t take her eyes off the handsome stranger. He had dark curly hair and he was so tall that she had to crane her neck to see his face.
“Are you sure? You look a little unsteady.” Sarah couldn’t tell him that his green eyes and his smile were making her wobbly.
“I’m just fine sir.” She repeated. Then she boldly extended her hand. “My name is Sarah Foreman. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is mine,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m Harvey Hardee.”
“What brings you to Belhaven?”
“A business venture. I am considering purchasing Mr. Sewell’s hardware store.”
“I didn’t know he was selling his store.”
“Neither does he” Harvey laughed.
Sarah soon discovered that Harvey Hardee always got what he wanted. He told her he already owned a hardware store in Portsmouth, Virginia. What he didn’t tell her was that he had bought the store with money he had embezzled from the previous owner while managing the store.
“I’m thinking of selling the store in Portsmouth and moving down here where it’s peaceful and the women are pretty.”
Sarah turned berry red. Harvey grinned down at the pretty farm girl before him. She looked ripe for the picking. “Why don’t you let me buy you an ice cream and you can tell me all about your little town.”
Without waiting for her response Harvey took her elbow steered her back into O’Neal’s Drug Store.
Mr. Sewell sold Harvey the store and before the paint was dry on the new sign Sarah was setting up housekeeping in the tiny apartment over “Hardee’s Hardware”.
Irene hadn’t blamed her sister for wanting a place of her own. Even though Sarah had never complained, Irene had known she had not been comfortable in the house on Pungo Creek after Irene had married Caleb and the two of them had moved into the bedroom she and her sister had shared. Sarah had moved into the front room parlor next to her father’s bedroom. The sisters had looked after the house while their father and Caleb took care of the farm. As time passed Sarah felt she no longer belonged there. She felt like an intruder in the house where she’d been raised.
When Sarah told Irene she was pregnant, she was thrilled for her, but a little envious too. “Why Sister, Caleb and I have been trying to have a child for five years and here you are going to give Daddy his first grand baby right away.”
Sarah was well aware of their efforts. The thin walls couldn’t muffle the sound of their lovemaking. Sarah was surprised by her prim sister’s passion, but she’d been astonished by her own. Harvey’s first touch unlocked desire in her that she had not known existed. Harvey had been a skillful lover. He’d introduced Sarah to the joy of lovemaking and she had greedily accepted his instruction.
Eight months after Sarah became Mrs. Harvey Hardee, Jo Ann was born.
There were complications with the delivery. Sarah had been alone when her labor started. She was already in delivery when the doctor arrived. The umbilical cord wrapped around the baby’s neck and she was deprived of oxygen. Jo Ann was left severely brain damaged. The doctor was honest with Sarah. “It’s unlikely your daughter will ever walk or talk. She’ll always have the brain of an infant. I’m sorry, Sarah. There was nothing I could do.”
For the first few months Sarah hoped the doctor had been wrong. Each morning she carried Jo down to the hardware store where she slept in a basket on the counter.
Jo was a beautiful baby. She had Harvey’s curly black hair and Sarah’s grey eyes. People came into the store for nails and flypaper and stayed to coo and cluck at Sarah’s child.
Harvey, who had been content from the beginning to let his wife run the store, spent less and less time there. Instead, he stayed upstairs and drank. He avoided his daughter.
“Harvey, just take her in your arms. She won’t break.”
But Jo was already broken and Sarah’s love – as strong as it was – could not mend her.
As the years passed, Jo grew but remained as an infant. Caleb built a special chair for her so Irene could keep Jo with her in the store. She now had full responsibility for the business. Sarah made excuses for her husband. “Irene, it’s been hard on Harvey. You don’t know how much he blames himself – for what happened. Just give him some time.” But Harvey’s drinking continued to worsen and his health began to fail. He only left the apartment to get more whiskey or to gamble in the smoky backroom of the pool hall. By the time Sarah saw her husband for what he was, it was too late. Alcohol had transformed her once handsome husband into an unshaven, quarrelsome recluse.
Soon after Jo’s eighth birthday Harvey died. He was only 47 years old. The same kindly doctor who had delivered her daughter tried to comfort Sarah again. “It was his liver. It just gave out.” What he didn’t say was what the whole town was saying – that it was a blessing he died before he passed out holding a lit cigarette and killed them all.
Sarah had still not recovered from Harvey’s death when more bad news came. Harvey’s gambling had been worse than she had known. His debts had mounted over the years. The store was heavily mortgaged and there was no way Sarah could save it.
“What on earth are you going to do, Sister?” Irene was furious with her dead brother-in-law. “I’d dig the bastard up and kill him again if I could.”
“Irene! Please don’t talk that way about Harvey. He couldn’t help the way he was. The Lord will provide for my Jo and me. I don’t doubt Him.”
It was Caleb who provided. “My Daddy’s old place over in Sidney is sitting empty. I could put a new roof on it and fix the windows.”
“Nonsense! Sarah will move in with us.”
“Irene. Be sensible. You with a six year old boy and a husband to look after?” Sarah turned to her brother-in-law. “I would be grateful if you would fix up your Daddy’s place for me – very grateful.”
* * *
As Irene rowed across the creek that morning, she sensed something was wrong. As she approached the landing in front of Sarah’s house she shivered in spite of the warm June day.
She found her sister she found her sitting next to Jo’s bed. She understood immediately the cause of her premonition. Jo was dead. Irene had already fixed her hair and dressed her in a gold print dress. Death had relaxed Jo’s contorted features. She looked almost beautiful. “I want to get her a nice stone, Irene. I was thinking of a baby lamb or an angel. I know she’d have been twenty her next birthday, but she was always my baby girl.”
Irene put her arms around her sister and together they wept. They wept for their lost loves and their lost dreams.
Irene buried Jo in the little cemetery next to Sidney Free Will Baptist Church. She lay beside Harvey – not far away lay Sarah and Irene’s mother and father. Nearby Caleb and Grover rested side by side like brothers. Sarah and Irene stood near Jo’s grave. Sarah smiled sadly.
“Between us, we’re filling up this little graveyard, Sister.”
Growing Apart
Benjamin looked up just as the school bus stopped. He watched his mother kissed the twins goodbye and helped them climb on to the school bus. He stopped the harvester and watched until the bus disappeared up the dusty road. His mother waved to him but he didn’t return her greeting. He mopped his brow. The heat that had plagued him all summer long was not loosening its grip. 7:30 in the morning and already 90 degrees.
The twins had been too excited to sleep. Benjamin had interrupted their laughter and chatter. “Shut up and go to sleep. I can hear you nattering all the way up in the front room.” He glanced at the matching dresses hung behind the door. Sarah had made them special for the twins first day of school. He grabbed one of the dresses, clenching the carefully ironed fabric in his fist. Slowly he relaxed his grip, resisting the urge to rip the thin dresses apart. Instead he growled “If I hear one more peep out of you I’ll be bringing my belt with me.”
After the school bus disappeared Benjamin resumed his work. There was nothing before him but row after row of corn. His life would be measured out in corncobs while his sisters went off to school.
He was still in a foul mood when the bus returned the twins eight hours later.
“Benjamin! Benjamin! Look what I drew!” Rose separated herself from her twin and ran toward her brother. She ignored the clumps of dirt that spoiled her white anklets.
“Don’t you have anything to show me, Pearlie?” Benjamin called out mockingly. Pearl just shook her head and continued up the lane to the house. Benjamin’s eyes followed her as he absently looked at the drawing that Rose forced into his hand.
“It’s a picture of our family, Benjamin. See. There’s Mama and there’s you and there’s me and Pearl.” Rose had drawn him so that he towered over the other three figures in the drawing.
“Real nice. You’re a regular Rembrandt.”
“What’s a rem-brat?”
“Never mind. I’m thirsty. Let’s go get us some lemonade.
Benjamin let Rose take his hand as they walked toward the house. He found himself actually enjoying the attention of the darker twin. She seemed to worship him, never missing an opportunity to be in his presence while were sister warily avoided him.
* * *
As the twins got older, Benjamin sought out opportunities to be alone with Pearl. When he did, he liked to touch her. At first he did it because she didn’t like it. Then because he found it gave him pleasure to fondle his sister.
“Careful, Pearlie. That old rooster’s just over there. He’s going to come and get you.”
Pearl was gathering eggs when her brother appeared out of nowhere, blocking her path.
“It ain’t the rooster I’m worried about. Now move and let me pass.”
“You ain’t going no damn place until I say you can.” Benjamin looked down at Pearl. She was eleven years old – on the brink of puberty.
“Are those breasts you’ve got there, little sister?”
Pearl hugged her basket, shielding herself from Benjamin’s hungry gaze.
He pulled the basket from her grip and let it fall to the floor, breaking the eggs. He pushed her against the rough wall of the chicken house and slowly unbuttoned her shirt then he covered her small breasts with his palms, moving his hands in circles. “You are growing breasts. Do you like that, Pearlie? Do you like it when I rub you little nipples?”
“No! I don’t like it!” she said, twisting away from Benjamin’s hands. “I hate it when you touch me and I’m going to tell Mama.” She picked up her basket and ran away.
“She won’t believe you, Pearl.” He shouted after her. “She’ll just think you’re making up stories. Mama has more to worry about than your tall tales, little sister”.
The twins had been too excited to sleep. Benjamin had interrupted their laughter and chatter. “Shut up and go to sleep. I can hear you nattering all the way up in the front room.” He glanced at the matching dresses hung behind the door. Sarah had made them special for the twins first day of school. He grabbed one of the dresses, clenching the carefully ironed fabric in his fist. Slowly he relaxed his grip, resisting the urge to rip the thin dresses apart. Instead he growled “If I hear one more peep out of you I’ll be bringing my belt with me.”
After the school bus disappeared Benjamin resumed his work. There was nothing before him but row after row of corn. His life would be measured out in corncobs while his sisters went off to school.
He was still in a foul mood when the bus returned the twins eight hours later.
“Benjamin! Benjamin! Look what I drew!” Rose separated herself from her twin and ran toward her brother. She ignored the clumps of dirt that spoiled her white anklets.
“Don’t you have anything to show me, Pearlie?” Benjamin called out mockingly. Pearl just shook her head and continued up the lane to the house. Benjamin’s eyes followed her as he absently looked at the drawing that Rose forced into his hand.
“It’s a picture of our family, Benjamin. See. There’s Mama and there’s you and there’s me and Pearl.” Rose had drawn him so that he towered over the other three figures in the drawing.
“Real nice. You’re a regular Rembrandt.”
“What’s a rem-brat?”
“Never mind. I’m thirsty. Let’s go get us some lemonade.
Benjamin let Rose take his hand as they walked toward the house. He found himself actually enjoying the attention of the darker twin. She seemed to worship him, never missing an opportunity to be in his presence while were sister warily avoided him.
* * *
As the twins got older, Benjamin sought out opportunities to be alone with Pearl. When he did, he liked to touch her. At first he did it because she didn’t like it. Then because he found it gave him pleasure to fondle his sister.
“Careful, Pearlie. That old rooster’s just over there. He’s going to come and get you.”
Pearl was gathering eggs when her brother appeared out of nowhere, blocking her path.
“It ain’t the rooster I’m worried about. Now move and let me pass.”
“You ain’t going no damn place until I say you can.” Benjamin looked down at Pearl. She was eleven years old – on the brink of puberty.
“Are those breasts you’ve got there, little sister?”
Pearl hugged her basket, shielding herself from Benjamin’s hungry gaze.
He pulled the basket from her grip and let it fall to the floor, breaking the eggs. He pushed her against the rough wall of the chicken house and slowly unbuttoned her shirt then he covered her small breasts with his palms, moving his hands in circles. “You are growing breasts. Do you like that, Pearlie? Do you like it when I rub you little nipples?”
“No! I don’t like it!” she said, twisting away from Benjamin’s hands. “I hate it when you touch me and I’m going to tell Mama.” She picked up her basket and ran away.
“She won’t believe you, Pearl.” He shouted after her. “She’ll just think you’re making up stories. Mama has more to worry about than your tall tales, little sister”.
Fishing with Mama
As her mother guided the skiff to their special fishing spot Pearl tried to make herself look forward to the long summer vacation that stretched out before her. She watched her mama’s hands on the oars. Strong hands for sure with blue veins that pooched through the rough skin on the back of her hands and big knuckles. They weren’t pretty hands. Pearl looked at her own hands resting in her lap. “I will have lady hands,” she said to herself. “I will make sure I kept them soft and smooth with Tillberry’s Lotion and I won’t let them get all rough by scrubbing clothes against a wash board like Mama does.” Pearl rubbed her hands over the folds of her gold colored skirt. Her Aunt Sarah has made the dress for her. Gold was Aunt Sarah’s favorite color. The dress had long sleeves to hide the scars on her arm.
“I don’t know why you insist on wearing your good clothes to go fishing in. You’re just going to mess that dress up and I am the one that is going to have to wash and iron it. Always the little princess.” Pearl looked at her mother anxiously, but saw that she was smiling.
Pearl stretched out my legs and examined her bare feet. “Doesn’t she have pretty feet?” That’s what Aunt Sarah had said about her feet.
Pearl looked over her shoulder at the shore. She could see their house. She could just make out Rose sitting in the porch swing. She knew she was either shelling peas or looking collards or peeling quince. She wouldn’t be just sitting in the swing. She couldn’t abide idleness. She was keeping herself busy somehow.
The little wooden skiff moved swiftly and smoothly across Pungo Creek. Her Mama sure knew how to row a boat. The oars dipped evenly into the creek – no splashing – no wasted energy. They created little whirlpools the size of the silver dollar that her Mama kept in her jewelry box.
Pearl studied her Mama’s face. People said she looked a little like an Indian. High cheekbones, tanned, deep-set eyes, firm mouth and chin. Her dark hair framed her face. At 45, Irene’s hair was already smoked with gray.
“Get ready to drop the anchor, honey. We’re coming up on our spot.” They were just off the point between Scott Toppins place and the bridge to Sidney Cross Roads. This was the spot where they had caught 12 good-sized croakers the week before. Pearl scrambled up to the front of the skiff and picked up the anchor and got ready to drop it when Mama told her to.
“Okay….now.”
Pearl lowered the anchor slowly into the water – careful not to let it make a splash that would scare the fish away. The rough anchor rope ran through her fingers until it slackened when the anchor got to the bottom.
Irene reached into her shirt pocket and took out her tobacco and rolled herself a cigarette. “You get our hooks baited while I smoke my cigarette.” The only time she smoked was when she was out fishing.
The cane poles were lying in the bottom of the skiff. Pearl picked up her mama’s pole and dipped the end in the water and pushed it down until it touched bottom.
“We’re about 5 feet deep here – maybe a little more.”
“That should be good.”
Pearl unwrapped the line from around the pole and pushed the cork down to about four feet above the sinker. Then she took a worm out of a tin can and threaded it onto the hook and spit on the baited hook for good luck and handed the pole to her mama and got her own pole ready. She put her cork a little lower.
“Poor little fishy in the brook…” Irene started the rhyme and paused for her daughter to say her line.
“Climb upon my little hook” she responded, but her heart just wasn’t in it.
“You be the captain..”
“I’ll be the cook.”
They said the last line together: “Poor little fishy in the brook.”
At eleven years old, Pearl thought she was getting a little bit too old for rhyming games but just on cue her cork bobbed under she jerked her pole to set the hook and up came the first fish of the day – a croaker.
“That’s a nice one baby girl.” Pearl swung the line over so she could take off her fish. She let it drop into the bottom of the skiff where it flopped around making its croaking sound. “It didn’t even have a chance to eat your worm. She added some mama spit and let go of the line. “Catch another one.”
They settled into a familiar rhythm of fishing and talking. The sun was at about 2:00 when Irene got a serious look on her face. “Pearl, honey. Is something the matter? You just have not seemed like yourself lately
“Nothing is the matter, Mama.” Pearl kept her eyes on her cork, avoiding her Irene’s eyes. Alarm bells went off in her head. Did her mother know something?
“Is something the matter at school?”
Pearl took a breath and let it out slowly. Her mama didn’t know. She was just fishing around. Pearl would have liked nothing more than to tell her mama what was bothering her, but she didn’t know where to start. How could she tell her mama what Benjamin was doing?
She tried to avoid being by herself because every time she was alone it seemed like Benjamin was there. At first he just touched her, like he had that first time in the kitchen. Then he became more insistent. Once he found her alone in the barn. He pushed her down and rolled on top of her. Then he had grasped her hand and pushed it down into his trousers. “Feel that, Little Sister. See what you did.” When she pulled away from him he had pinched her hard. She had run away in tears but she had been afraid and ashamed to tell anyone. No matter what she did, he was always there.
Mama put down her pole and she looked like she wanted to say something important. Instead she said,” Ready for lunch?” She opened the brown paper bag that held their lunch. Two banana sandwiches and a mason jar of sweetened ice tea.
Pearl nodded. “Guess so.” She was hungry. Worrying always gave her an appetite. She rested her fishing pole on the seat next to her but she let her line stay in the water.
She wiped her hands on her skirt, unwrapped her sandwich and placed it carefully on her lap.
“Better watch your pole, honey. A big croaker might just steal it from you.” Pearl looked down at her cork just in time to see it go under. When she reached over to grab the pole her sandwich fell from her lap and landed in the muck in the bottom of the skiff.
The sight of her sandwich floating in creek scum was more than she could stand. She started crying. Not tiny silent tears, but loud choking sobs.
Mama handed her half of her sandwich. “A lot can happen between May and September, Pearl.
Pearl had no idea what her mama meant but she took the sandwich. “Mama, nothing good ever happens on Pungo Creek.”
“I don’t know why you insist on wearing your good clothes to go fishing in. You’re just going to mess that dress up and I am the one that is going to have to wash and iron it. Always the little princess.” Pearl looked at her mother anxiously, but saw that she was smiling.
Pearl stretched out my legs and examined her bare feet. “Doesn’t she have pretty feet?” That’s what Aunt Sarah had said about her feet.
Pearl looked over her shoulder at the shore. She could see their house. She could just make out Rose sitting in the porch swing. She knew she was either shelling peas or looking collards or peeling quince. She wouldn’t be just sitting in the swing. She couldn’t abide idleness. She was keeping herself busy somehow.
The little wooden skiff moved swiftly and smoothly across Pungo Creek. Her Mama sure knew how to row a boat. The oars dipped evenly into the creek – no splashing – no wasted energy. They created little whirlpools the size of the silver dollar that her Mama kept in her jewelry box.
Pearl studied her Mama’s face. People said she looked a little like an Indian. High cheekbones, tanned, deep-set eyes, firm mouth and chin. Her dark hair framed her face. At 45, Irene’s hair was already smoked with gray.
“Get ready to drop the anchor, honey. We’re coming up on our spot.” They were just off the point between Scott Toppins place and the bridge to Sidney Cross Roads. This was the spot where they had caught 12 good-sized croakers the week before. Pearl scrambled up to the front of the skiff and picked up the anchor and got ready to drop it when Mama told her to.
“Okay….now.”
Pearl lowered the anchor slowly into the water – careful not to let it make a splash that would scare the fish away. The rough anchor rope ran through her fingers until it slackened when the anchor got to the bottom.
Irene reached into her shirt pocket and took out her tobacco and rolled herself a cigarette. “You get our hooks baited while I smoke my cigarette.” The only time she smoked was when she was out fishing.
The cane poles were lying in the bottom of the skiff. Pearl picked up her mama’s pole and dipped the end in the water and pushed it down until it touched bottom.
“We’re about 5 feet deep here – maybe a little more.”
“That should be good.”
Pearl unwrapped the line from around the pole and pushed the cork down to about four feet above the sinker. Then she took a worm out of a tin can and threaded it onto the hook and spit on the baited hook for good luck and handed the pole to her mama and got her own pole ready. She put her cork a little lower.
“Poor little fishy in the brook…” Irene started the rhyme and paused for her daughter to say her line.
“Climb upon my little hook” she responded, but her heart just wasn’t in it.
“You be the captain..”
“I’ll be the cook.”
They said the last line together: “Poor little fishy in the brook.”
At eleven years old, Pearl thought she was getting a little bit too old for rhyming games but just on cue her cork bobbed under she jerked her pole to set the hook and up came the first fish of the day – a croaker.
“That’s a nice one baby girl.” Pearl swung the line over so she could take off her fish. She let it drop into the bottom of the skiff where it flopped around making its croaking sound. “It didn’t even have a chance to eat your worm. She added some mama spit and let go of the line. “Catch another one.”
They settled into a familiar rhythm of fishing and talking. The sun was at about 2:00 when Irene got a serious look on her face. “Pearl, honey. Is something the matter? You just have not seemed like yourself lately
“Nothing is the matter, Mama.” Pearl kept her eyes on her cork, avoiding her Irene’s eyes. Alarm bells went off in her head. Did her mother know something?
“Is something the matter at school?”
Pearl took a breath and let it out slowly. Her mama didn’t know. She was just fishing around. Pearl would have liked nothing more than to tell her mama what was bothering her, but she didn’t know where to start. How could she tell her mama what Benjamin was doing?
She tried to avoid being by herself because every time she was alone it seemed like Benjamin was there. At first he just touched her, like he had that first time in the kitchen. Then he became more insistent. Once he found her alone in the barn. He pushed her down and rolled on top of her. Then he had grasped her hand and pushed it down into his trousers. “Feel that, Little Sister. See what you did.” When she pulled away from him he had pinched her hard. She had run away in tears but she had been afraid and ashamed to tell anyone. No matter what she did, he was always there.
Mama put down her pole and she looked like she wanted to say something important. Instead she said,” Ready for lunch?” She opened the brown paper bag that held their lunch. Two banana sandwiches and a mason jar of sweetened ice tea.
Pearl nodded. “Guess so.” She was hungry. Worrying always gave her an appetite. She rested her fishing pole on the seat next to her but she let her line stay in the water.
She wiped her hands on her skirt, unwrapped her sandwich and placed it carefully on her lap.
“Better watch your pole, honey. A big croaker might just steal it from you.” Pearl looked down at her cork just in time to see it go under. When she reached over to grab the pole her sandwich fell from her lap and landed in the muck in the bottom of the skiff.
The sight of her sandwich floating in creek scum was more than she could stand. She started crying. Not tiny silent tears, but loud choking sobs.
Mama handed her half of her sandwich. “A lot can happen between May and September, Pearl.
Pearl had no idea what her mama meant but she took the sandwich. “Mama, nothing good ever happens on Pungo Creek.”
Tiny Boxes
On the morning they were to be baptized, Rose and Pearl woke up to find tiny boxes on their pillows. The boxes were wrapped in tissue paper and decorated with sprigs of Queen Ann’s Lace. Their mother watched from the open door while the girls unwrapped the presents. “I wanted to give you something special today. I am just busting with pride today, girls.”
Each box held a tiny gold locket. Rose and Pearl looked at their mother. She had tears in her eyes.
“I haven’t been able to give you girls a lot of fancy things. I wanted to but…” She stopped there.
Pearl hopped out of bed and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mama, this is the most beautiful thing I could ever own. I will treasure it forever. Here, help me put it on.” She lifted her hair so Irene could fasten the locket.
“Me too, Mama.” Rose handed the locket to her Mama who fastened it around her neck.
“Look, Rose. It opens up.”
“I didn’t put anything inside. You girls can decide what you want to wear around your necks.” Her hand went to her own locket.
“What’s in your locket, Mama?”
Before she could answer, Benjamin’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Can’t a man get breakfast around here? Bad enough you wasting money on trinkets. You’re going to let me go out to the fields with my belly empty.”
“Benjamin, you can’t work today. Today is Sunday. Your sisters are getting baptized today. It just wouldn’t be right for you to work today.”
“I’d rather be out there in the fields than sitting around here watching you act ridiculous.” Benjamin left, slamming the kitchen door behind him.
“Well we can’t be dawdling. The church bus will be coming soon and you girls can’t be going to church in your nightgowns.” Irene smiled the sad smile the girls knew so well.
“We’ll be ready, Mama. Don’t worry.” Rose kissed her mama again. “Don’t worry about Benjamin. I’m going to take him a nice sandwich for him to have for his lunch. He’s right. He can’t be working on an empty stomach.”
“Well just hurry or Benjamin won’t be the only one missing church today.” She smiled to herself at how grown up they were - especially Rose. She was her father’s daughter to be sure. She was bold and forthright while Pearl was meek and timid. She had Grover’s good looks. She was strong and tall for a girl but she was also womanly. She had matured quickly and looked much older than her twelve years. It was hard raising the girls alone. At times Rose seemed more like the mother than she did.
Rose got dressed quickly and made Benjamin two chicken sandwiches and cut him a piece of pie. “I’ll be back before you finish combing your hair, Mama,” she shouted as she ran down the back porch steps.
When Rose got to the field Benjamin already had the plow hooked up to the tractor. She took off her shoes and walked toward him. “Benjamin, Benjamin” she called. “I brought you some lunch.”
Benjamin either didn’t hear her or had decided to ignore her. He climbed onto the seat of the tractor and started the old engine and steered the tractor away from Rose. She ran into the field. Her feet sunk into the soft earth. Mud splattered onto her skirt. The previous night’s rain had left the field soaked. “Too wet to plow,” she thought.
Benjamin reached the end of the furrow and turned the tractor around. He headed back to the spot where Rose stood, ankle deep in mud. She waved her arms. He was too far away for him to hear her but she called out anyway. “Benjamin, stop. I want to talk to you.”
He looked straight at her but he didn’t stop. Instead he turned sharply. The plow and the rear wheels of the tractor dug into the mud and the front wheels lifted. The tractor back flipped. Benjamin was thrown from his seat to the soft, freshly dug earth. Rose screamed and ran toward the spot where Benjamin lay trapped beneath the tractor’s wheels. Rose managed to wedge herself under the overturned tractor and turn off the engine. All was quiet, except for her brother’s screams.
“Benjamin! Oh my God. Benjamin!” She grabbed her brother’s shoulders and tried to pull him from beneath the tractor but she only intensified his pain. “Benjamin, I’m going for help.” She ran across the muddy field, back toward the house where she met her mother and sister. They had heard Benjamin’s cries and come running. “Mama, Benjamin is trapped under the tractor.”
Irene looked first at her mud-covered daughter then toward the field where she knew her son lay. “Go get C.M. Smith. Tell him to bring his tractor. Hurry, child. Pearl. You come with me.”
Rose ran as fast as she could. Up the lane, then down the dirt road toward the Smith farm a mile away. The church bus came toward her. She stood in the middle of the road waving her arms. The bus stopped and Reverend Gaskins jumped off the bus and ran toward her.
“Rose, what is the matter?” His gaze took in her mud covered bare feet and her torn dress.
“It’s Benjamin,” she gasped. “He’s trapped under the tractor. There.” She pointed to the field. “I’ve got to go get C.M. Smith to pull the tractor off him.”
“Get in. I can drive you there and then I’ll come back and do what I can.” As he talked he pulled Rose into the bus and threw it into reverse. He backed the bus almost a mile to the Smith house where he barely stopped as Rose leapt out and ran to the house where she related for the third time that morning what had happened to her brother. Smith wasted no time. He shouted instructions to his wife while throwing chains onto the back of his tractor. “Rebecca. Get Doctor Wright. Tell him to get there fast. Keep the girl with you. She don’t need to see this.”
When Smith got to the field Benjamin was still conscious and screaming in agony. Reverend Gaskins was standing next to the tractor powerless to do anything but pray. “Reverend! Don’t just stand there. Help me get unhitch that plow. Together they released the plow and with the help of Pearl and Irene they pulled it away from the back of the tractor. Smith hooked one end of the chain to the overturned tractor and the other to the back of his tractor. “When I pull, you three pull him free.” He jammed his tractor into gear. At first it didn’t budge. The rear wheels just threw up mud but then slowly Smith’s tractor moved forward just a few inches but enough to allow them to pull Benjamin from beneath the wheel.
His left leg was mangled. “Irene! Give me your petticoat. We have to get a tourniquet on this boy.” Smith could see that the soft earth saved Benjamin’s life. If it had been hard he would have been crushed to death.
Each box held a tiny gold locket. Rose and Pearl looked at their mother. She had tears in her eyes.
“I haven’t been able to give you girls a lot of fancy things. I wanted to but…” She stopped there.
Pearl hopped out of bed and threw her arms around her mother. “Oh, Mama, this is the most beautiful thing I could ever own. I will treasure it forever. Here, help me put it on.” She lifted her hair so Irene could fasten the locket.
“Me too, Mama.” Rose handed the locket to her Mama who fastened it around her neck.
“Look, Rose. It opens up.”
“I didn’t put anything inside. You girls can decide what you want to wear around your necks.” Her hand went to her own locket.
“What’s in your locket, Mama?”
Before she could answer, Benjamin’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Can’t a man get breakfast around here? Bad enough you wasting money on trinkets. You’re going to let me go out to the fields with my belly empty.”
“Benjamin, you can’t work today. Today is Sunday. Your sisters are getting baptized today. It just wouldn’t be right for you to work today.”
“I’d rather be out there in the fields than sitting around here watching you act ridiculous.” Benjamin left, slamming the kitchen door behind him.
“Well we can’t be dawdling. The church bus will be coming soon and you girls can’t be going to church in your nightgowns.” Irene smiled the sad smile the girls knew so well.
“We’ll be ready, Mama. Don’t worry.” Rose kissed her mama again. “Don’t worry about Benjamin. I’m going to take him a nice sandwich for him to have for his lunch. He’s right. He can’t be working on an empty stomach.”
“Well just hurry or Benjamin won’t be the only one missing church today.” She smiled to herself at how grown up they were - especially Rose. She was her father’s daughter to be sure. She was bold and forthright while Pearl was meek and timid. She had Grover’s good looks. She was strong and tall for a girl but she was also womanly. She had matured quickly and looked much older than her twelve years. It was hard raising the girls alone. At times Rose seemed more like the mother than she did.
Rose got dressed quickly and made Benjamin two chicken sandwiches and cut him a piece of pie. “I’ll be back before you finish combing your hair, Mama,” she shouted as she ran down the back porch steps.
When Rose got to the field Benjamin already had the plow hooked up to the tractor. She took off her shoes and walked toward him. “Benjamin, Benjamin” she called. “I brought you some lunch.”
Benjamin either didn’t hear her or had decided to ignore her. He climbed onto the seat of the tractor and started the old engine and steered the tractor away from Rose. She ran into the field. Her feet sunk into the soft earth. Mud splattered onto her skirt. The previous night’s rain had left the field soaked. “Too wet to plow,” she thought.
Benjamin reached the end of the furrow and turned the tractor around. He headed back to the spot where Rose stood, ankle deep in mud. She waved her arms. He was too far away for him to hear her but she called out anyway. “Benjamin, stop. I want to talk to you.”
He looked straight at her but he didn’t stop. Instead he turned sharply. The plow and the rear wheels of the tractor dug into the mud and the front wheels lifted. The tractor back flipped. Benjamin was thrown from his seat to the soft, freshly dug earth. Rose screamed and ran toward the spot where Benjamin lay trapped beneath the tractor’s wheels. Rose managed to wedge herself under the overturned tractor and turn off the engine. All was quiet, except for her brother’s screams.
“Benjamin! Oh my God. Benjamin!” She grabbed her brother’s shoulders and tried to pull him from beneath the tractor but she only intensified his pain. “Benjamin, I’m going for help.” She ran across the muddy field, back toward the house where she met her mother and sister. They had heard Benjamin’s cries and come running. “Mama, Benjamin is trapped under the tractor.”
Irene looked first at her mud-covered daughter then toward the field where she knew her son lay. “Go get C.M. Smith. Tell him to bring his tractor. Hurry, child. Pearl. You come with me.”
Rose ran as fast as she could. Up the lane, then down the dirt road toward the Smith farm a mile away. The church bus came toward her. She stood in the middle of the road waving her arms. The bus stopped and Reverend Gaskins jumped off the bus and ran toward her.
“Rose, what is the matter?” His gaze took in her mud covered bare feet and her torn dress.
“It’s Benjamin,” she gasped. “He’s trapped under the tractor. There.” She pointed to the field. “I’ve got to go get C.M. Smith to pull the tractor off him.”
“Get in. I can drive you there and then I’ll come back and do what I can.” As he talked he pulled Rose into the bus and threw it into reverse. He backed the bus almost a mile to the Smith house where he barely stopped as Rose leapt out and ran to the house where she related for the third time that morning what had happened to her brother. Smith wasted no time. He shouted instructions to his wife while throwing chains onto the back of his tractor. “Rebecca. Get Doctor Wright. Tell him to get there fast. Keep the girl with you. She don’t need to see this.”
When Smith got to the field Benjamin was still conscious and screaming in agony. Reverend Gaskins was standing next to the tractor powerless to do anything but pray. “Reverend! Don’t just stand there. Help me get unhitch that plow. Together they released the plow and with the help of Pearl and Irene they pulled it away from the back of the tractor. Smith hooked one end of the chain to the overturned tractor and the other to the back of his tractor. “When I pull, you three pull him free.” He jammed his tractor into gear. At first it didn’t budge. The rear wheels just threw up mud but then slowly Smith’s tractor moved forward just a few inches but enough to allow them to pull Benjamin from beneath the wheel.
His left leg was mangled. “Irene! Give me your petticoat. We have to get a tourniquet on this boy.” Smith could see that the soft earth saved Benjamin’s life. If it had been hard he would have been crushed to death.
Barbering and Tenant Farmers
Benjamin spent twenty-nine days in Belhaven Hospital. The doctors tried to save his mangled leg, but it was beyond repair. When he returned home he had to be carried up the back steps.
“I’m just so grateful to have you home, son. When I think of what might have happened…but the Good Lord spared you.”
“I would have been a damn sight happier if he’d spared my left leg too.”
Irene didn’t scold her son. She was too happy to have him home. She was actually relieved that the accident hadn’t taken away his vinegar. She knew he would need every bit of his pluck in the days to come. Her son had lost his leg, but not his backbone.
Benjamin wasted no time on self-pity, but immediately began working on ways to save the farm. Finally he hit on a solution. They didn’t have much, but they had land - lots of land. He would find tenant farmers and sharecroppers to work the land. Benjamin took advantage of neighbors who were poorer than he was. Both the tenant farmers and the sharecroppers were farmers without land. The tenant farmers paid Benjamin for the right to grow their crops on his land. The sharecroppers didn’t have the money to rent the land. Instead, they worked a plot in exchange for a portion of what their raised. In a short time, land that had never seen a plow was producing corn, cotton and tobacco. The sharecroppers gave Benjamin two-thirds of everything they raised. In addition the sharecroppers paid him for the use of the tools they used and for food and supplies out of their third.
Benjamin pushed them all hard to produce. He became a familiar sight. Hopping about on his crutches- urging them to work harder, driving them on. Benjamin was a bastard, but he was a good businessman.
No one had expected Benjamin to amount to anything especially after the accident took his leg. His father had been a humble and unassuming man who made up with kindheartedness what he lacked in ambition. His stepfather had been a scoundrel. Everyone expected the rich farmland and virgin woods that had belonged to the Foreman family for two hundred years to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was just that cynicism that fueled Benjamin’s determination to prove once and for all that he would not be disgraced as he believed his mother had been. A year after the accident the farm was thriving and Benjamin was finally earning the respect that had eluded him for his whole life.
* * *
Irene and Pearl were putting supper on the table in preparation for Benjamin’s arrival. He wanted his meal ready when he walked in the door.
“I’ve never seen your brother happier,” said Irene as she surveyed her table with pride.
“I don’t think Benjamin is going to be truly happy until he has every dollar in Beaufort County.”
“Pearl, your brother is just determined. Determination is not anything to be ashamed of. I am proud of Benjamin and you and Rose should be proud of him too. Do you know, he told me he is thinking of learning how to cut hair and opening up a barber shop in Belhaven?”
“Like I said, Mama, he isn’t going to be satisfied until he has every dollar in the county.”
Pearl was spared her mother’s response by her brother’s entrance. “Pearl, go get your sister. Tell her we’re sitting down to supper.”
For several minutes they ate in silence then Benjamin spoke. “I talked to Willie Modlin. He and his family are going to be moving into the tenant house behind the old pack shed. He’s going to be working that piece of land between the creek and Smith’s place for me. Mama, I told him we could give him a milk cow and few chickens in exchange for his girl giving you a hand. Those daughters of yours sure ain’t much help.” He laughed.
“Benjamin, are you sure it’s a good idea to take on more sharecroppers right now? You’re spreading yourself thin, son.”
“It ain’t like I can tend the fields myself now, is it Ma?” He gestured toward his wooden leg. “These poor bastards do all the work. I just collect the money.” He laughed again. Irene hadn’t seen her son so jovial in a long time.
As soon as he finished his supper, Benjamin went out on the back porch to smoke his pipe. Irene stood up, but she supported herself by holding on to the back of her chair. “You girls clean up. I need to lie down for a bit.”
“Are you alright Mama?”
“Yes, Pearl. I’m just feeling a little tired this evening.” Irene walked unsteadily from the room.
“I wasn’t going to say this around Mama, but I think I know why our brother is so perky.”
“What are you talking about, Rose?” Pearl had noticed that Benjamin’s disposition had improved but she thought it was just that the farm was going better.
“I think he’s sniffing after Willie’s daughter Madeline. That would certainly explain why he’s moving the family practically under our roof. And he didn’t give the others a cow, did he?
“Madeline?” Pearl exclaimed. “Why she’s only fifteen.” Even as she uttered the words she knew her sister was right. It made perfect sense. A cascade of relief flooded over her. Maybe it was over. Maybe he would stop. Now Madeline would receive his unwelcome attention. Pearl smiled to herself. Yes. It would be over now.
You’re chirpy, Pearlie.”
Without realizing it, Pearl had begun humming.
“What is that tune? It’s pretty.”
“I heard it on the radio. It’s called When You Wish Upon a Star.”
“I’m just so grateful to have you home, son. When I think of what might have happened…but the Good Lord spared you.”
“I would have been a damn sight happier if he’d spared my left leg too.”
Irene didn’t scold her son. She was too happy to have him home. She was actually relieved that the accident hadn’t taken away his vinegar. She knew he would need every bit of his pluck in the days to come. Her son had lost his leg, but not his backbone.
Benjamin wasted no time on self-pity, but immediately began working on ways to save the farm. Finally he hit on a solution. They didn’t have much, but they had land - lots of land. He would find tenant farmers and sharecroppers to work the land. Benjamin took advantage of neighbors who were poorer than he was. Both the tenant farmers and the sharecroppers were farmers without land. The tenant farmers paid Benjamin for the right to grow their crops on his land. The sharecroppers didn’t have the money to rent the land. Instead, they worked a plot in exchange for a portion of what their raised. In a short time, land that had never seen a plow was producing corn, cotton and tobacco. The sharecroppers gave Benjamin two-thirds of everything they raised. In addition the sharecroppers paid him for the use of the tools they used and for food and supplies out of their third.
Benjamin pushed them all hard to produce. He became a familiar sight. Hopping about on his crutches- urging them to work harder, driving them on. Benjamin was a bastard, but he was a good businessman.
No one had expected Benjamin to amount to anything especially after the accident took his leg. His father had been a humble and unassuming man who made up with kindheartedness what he lacked in ambition. His stepfather had been a scoundrel. Everyone expected the rich farmland and virgin woods that had belonged to the Foreman family for two hundred years to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was just that cynicism that fueled Benjamin’s determination to prove once and for all that he would not be disgraced as he believed his mother had been. A year after the accident the farm was thriving and Benjamin was finally earning the respect that had eluded him for his whole life.
* * *
Irene and Pearl were putting supper on the table in preparation for Benjamin’s arrival. He wanted his meal ready when he walked in the door.
“I’ve never seen your brother happier,” said Irene as she surveyed her table with pride.
“I don’t think Benjamin is going to be truly happy until he has every dollar in Beaufort County.”
“Pearl, your brother is just determined. Determination is not anything to be ashamed of. I am proud of Benjamin and you and Rose should be proud of him too. Do you know, he told me he is thinking of learning how to cut hair and opening up a barber shop in Belhaven?”
“Like I said, Mama, he isn’t going to be satisfied until he has every dollar in the county.”
Pearl was spared her mother’s response by her brother’s entrance. “Pearl, go get your sister. Tell her we’re sitting down to supper.”
For several minutes they ate in silence then Benjamin spoke. “I talked to Willie Modlin. He and his family are going to be moving into the tenant house behind the old pack shed. He’s going to be working that piece of land between the creek and Smith’s place for me. Mama, I told him we could give him a milk cow and few chickens in exchange for his girl giving you a hand. Those daughters of yours sure ain’t much help.” He laughed.
“Benjamin, are you sure it’s a good idea to take on more sharecroppers right now? You’re spreading yourself thin, son.”
“It ain’t like I can tend the fields myself now, is it Ma?” He gestured toward his wooden leg. “These poor bastards do all the work. I just collect the money.” He laughed again. Irene hadn’t seen her son so jovial in a long time.
As soon as he finished his supper, Benjamin went out on the back porch to smoke his pipe. Irene stood up, but she supported herself by holding on to the back of her chair. “You girls clean up. I need to lie down for a bit.”
“Are you alright Mama?”
“Yes, Pearl. I’m just feeling a little tired this evening.” Irene walked unsteadily from the room.
“I wasn’t going to say this around Mama, but I think I know why our brother is so perky.”
“What are you talking about, Rose?” Pearl had noticed that Benjamin’s disposition had improved but she thought it was just that the farm was going better.
“I think he’s sniffing after Willie’s daughter Madeline. That would certainly explain why he’s moving the family practically under our roof. And he didn’t give the others a cow, did he?
“Madeline?” Pearl exclaimed. “Why she’s only fifteen.” Even as she uttered the words she knew her sister was right. It made perfect sense. A cascade of relief flooded over her. Maybe it was over. Maybe he would stop. Now Madeline would receive his unwelcome attention. Pearl smiled to herself. Yes. It would be over now.
You’re chirpy, Pearlie.”
Without realizing it, Pearl had begun humming.
“What is that tune? It’s pretty.”
“I heard it on the radio. It’s called When You Wish Upon a Star.”
Madeline Helps Out
“Madeline! Make yourself decent. Mr. Benjamin’s coming up the road.”
Madeline rolled her eyes at her mother and lazily pushed herself back from the table. She walked slowly from the room.
“Make myself decent, indeed” she said loudly enough for her mother to hear her on the other side of the curtain that separated the little kitchen from the bedroom Madeline shared with her four younger brothers. “Make myself scarce. That’s what I need to do. That man looks at me like I ain’t even wearing no clothes.”
“Hush, Madeline, and just be grateful. If it wasn’t for that man we wouldn’t even have a roof over our heads.”
Madeline came out of the bedroom wearing a yellow and blue plaid housedress. The dress was too small for her. It was stretched taut across her hips and breasts.
“You call that decent?” her mother complained.
“Well it ain’t like I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to pick from, Ma. It’s this or the nightgown you just told me to take off.”
“Well button your top button and go fix your hair – and pull on a sweater.”
“Sweater? Ma, it’s ninety degrees in here.”
There was a knock and Benjamin entered without waiting for them to answer.
“Morning, Mr. Benjamin. Willie ain’t here, I’m afraid.”
“Actually, Mrs. Modlin, it’s Madeline I’ve come to see. I expect that was her I just saw ducking behind that curtain.”
“Yes, sir. It was. You caught us by surprise. Madeline is just…”
Madeline came back into the kitchen, without a sweater and without buttoning her top buttons.
“I was just making myself decent” she said arching her eyebrow at her mother.
“Madeline, I came to speak to you about you helping out my mama. I’ve talked to your father. The arrangement was…”
“I’m aware of the arrangement, sir. My daddy has traded me for a milk cow.”
“Madeline! Mind you manners.”
“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Modlin. Madeline is correct. I have given you the use of one of our milk cows – and a few laying hens – in exchange for your daughter’s services. I’d like you to begin this morning.” He said turning back to Madeline.
“She’ll be right over.”
“Fine. Well goodbye Mrs. Modlin, Madeline.” He said, closing the door behind him.
“Well ain’t he full of himself?” Madeline said as she sat back down at the kitchen table.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You get ready and get going. And you watch your tongue. I mean it. You ain’t too big for a good spanking.
* * *
When Pearl and Rose got home from school Madeline was in the kitchen.
“Madeline. Hello. Didn’t expect to see you. Where’s Mama?”
“She’s lying down for a bit. She looked mighty tired. I told her to lie down, Pearl.”
Rose watched as Madeline moved around their kitchen getting supper ready. She was uncomfortable standing idle in her own kitchen. “Let me help you, Madeline. I can cut up the chicken.”
Pearl dropped her books on the table. “I think I’ll go check on Mama.”
Madeline pointed to the books. “Don’t you have homework to do, Rose?”
“I can do that later. Let me help.” Without waiting for a response Rose tied on her apron.
They worked together silently for a while then Madeline asked “What’s it like going to school, Rose?”
“You’ve never been to school?”
“Nope. Never did. Can’t say I’m sorry neither, but I’ve always been curious what it was like.”
“Why didn’t you go to school?”
“I had to look after the babies so Mama could work the fields with Pa.” She noticed that Rose looked surprised. “Well she couldn’t very well leave them by themselves could she? I watched them and when they got hungry I carried them out to her so she could nurse them then I brought them back to the house. Not much time for school now, was there?”
“I’m sorry Madeline.”
“What are you sorry about? Ain’t your fault. Besides, your family’s helping out now. Pa is real happy to be working for your brother. And I guess I don’t mind being traded for a milk cow.” She laughed. “That’s a joke, Rose. Don’t look so serious.”
When they were finished Madeline took off her apron and hung it by the drain board. “I’ll be going home now.”
Rose saw her eyeing the platter of fried chicken on the sideboard. “Why don’t you carry some home with you, Madeline. That’s way too much for us to eat.”
“That ain’t enough to make a dent in my brothers’ appetites but maybe I will take this for the walk home.” She smiled and took a chicken wing from the platter.
Rose watched from the door as Madeline walked slowly up the lane nibbling her chicken wing. When she had almost reached the end of the lane she turned and waved to Rose – like she expected her to be watching.
* * *
“Now this is good chicken. Did that little Madeline cook this all by herself? Who figured such a scrawny thing could cook like this?”
Rose winked at Pearl as she passed Benjamin the gravy. “She doesn’t look so scrawny to me, Brother. In fact she looks pretty filled out. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“That’s quite enough, Rose.” Irene took a bite of chicken. “The girl is a good cook. But I really don’t need any help taking care of my own house, Benjamin.”
Pearl reached over and touched her mother’s hand. “Mama, you’ve earned a bit of rest. I’m worried about you. You’re been looking weary lately.”
“Pearl’s right, Mama. It will be good for you to stay off your feet and let Madeline help out. You know, she has never been to school. We got to talking this afternoon and she told me she can’t even read.”
Benjamin took another piece of chicken. “What does a girl like that need school for? I’ve been thinking about having her sleep here so she’ll be here in the morning to get the fire going and see to breakfast. I don’t want her wasting half the day lollygagging over there.” He pointed his fork in the general direction of the tenant house. “We can put a cot in the pantry. Plenty of room for a cot in there. Better than she has now – sharing a room with four brothers.”
Irene nodded. “What you’re saying makes some sense, Benjamin. It just isn’t proper for a girl that age to be sleeping with her brothers.”
Benjamin glanced at Pearl who lowered her eyes and blushed deeply.
“What if she doesn’t want to come, Benjamin? You can’t just go over there and toss her over your shoulder and lug her back here.”
“No, Rose, I can’t. I was thinking of knocking her out with my crutch and tossing her in the back of my truck.” Benjamin got up from the table and went out to the back porch to smoke his pipe.
“Well, Sister. Guess we had better start getting the pantry ready for Madeline.”
“Rose, you don’t think she’ll actually agree to sleep in our pantry do you? No nice girl would just up and leave her family like that.”
“Pearlie, Madeline ain’t a lady and our brother ain’t no gentlemen.”
“Rose! I’m surprised at you. I won’t have you speaking like in that common fashion in my kitchen.”
“Sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean anything by it. I like Madeline. She’s had experiences.”
Irene fixed her eyes on her daughter. “What kind of experiences?”
“She doesn’t have to waste her time going to school. She acts like an adult.”
“Rose, school certainly is not a waste of time and acting like an adult doesn’t make her one.”
Irene could not know the effect that one “scrawny little girl” was about to have on her family.
Madeline rolled her eyes at her mother and lazily pushed herself back from the table. She walked slowly from the room.
“Make myself decent, indeed” she said loudly enough for her mother to hear her on the other side of the curtain that separated the little kitchen from the bedroom Madeline shared with her four younger brothers. “Make myself scarce. That’s what I need to do. That man looks at me like I ain’t even wearing no clothes.”
“Hush, Madeline, and just be grateful. If it wasn’t for that man we wouldn’t even have a roof over our heads.”
Madeline came out of the bedroom wearing a yellow and blue plaid housedress. The dress was too small for her. It was stretched taut across her hips and breasts.
“You call that decent?” her mother complained.
“Well it ain’t like I’ve got a whole hell of a lot to pick from, Ma. It’s this or the nightgown you just told me to take off.”
“Well button your top button and go fix your hair – and pull on a sweater.”
“Sweater? Ma, it’s ninety degrees in here.”
There was a knock and Benjamin entered without waiting for them to answer.
“Morning, Mr. Benjamin. Willie ain’t here, I’m afraid.”
“Actually, Mrs. Modlin, it’s Madeline I’ve come to see. I expect that was her I just saw ducking behind that curtain.”
“Yes, sir. It was. You caught us by surprise. Madeline is just…”
Madeline came back into the kitchen, without a sweater and without buttoning her top buttons.
“I was just making myself decent” she said arching her eyebrow at her mother.
“Madeline, I came to speak to you about you helping out my mama. I’ve talked to your father. The arrangement was…”
“I’m aware of the arrangement, sir. My daddy has traded me for a milk cow.”
“Madeline! Mind you manners.”
“That’s quite alright, Mrs. Modlin. Madeline is correct. I have given you the use of one of our milk cows – and a few laying hens – in exchange for your daughter’s services. I’d like you to begin this morning.” He said turning back to Madeline.
“She’ll be right over.”
“Fine. Well goodbye Mrs. Modlin, Madeline.” He said, closing the door behind him.
“Well ain’t he full of himself?” Madeline said as she sat back down at the kitchen table.
“Don’t get too comfortable. You get ready and get going. And you watch your tongue. I mean it. You ain’t too big for a good spanking.
* * *
When Pearl and Rose got home from school Madeline was in the kitchen.
“Madeline. Hello. Didn’t expect to see you. Where’s Mama?”
“She’s lying down for a bit. She looked mighty tired. I told her to lie down, Pearl.”
Rose watched as Madeline moved around their kitchen getting supper ready. She was uncomfortable standing idle in her own kitchen. “Let me help you, Madeline. I can cut up the chicken.”
Pearl dropped her books on the table. “I think I’ll go check on Mama.”
Madeline pointed to the books. “Don’t you have homework to do, Rose?”
“I can do that later. Let me help.” Without waiting for a response Rose tied on her apron.
They worked together silently for a while then Madeline asked “What’s it like going to school, Rose?”
“You’ve never been to school?”
“Nope. Never did. Can’t say I’m sorry neither, but I’ve always been curious what it was like.”
“Why didn’t you go to school?”
“I had to look after the babies so Mama could work the fields with Pa.” She noticed that Rose looked surprised. “Well she couldn’t very well leave them by themselves could she? I watched them and when they got hungry I carried them out to her so she could nurse them then I brought them back to the house. Not much time for school now, was there?”
“I’m sorry Madeline.”
“What are you sorry about? Ain’t your fault. Besides, your family’s helping out now. Pa is real happy to be working for your brother. And I guess I don’t mind being traded for a milk cow.” She laughed. “That’s a joke, Rose. Don’t look so serious.”
When they were finished Madeline took off her apron and hung it by the drain board. “I’ll be going home now.”
Rose saw her eyeing the platter of fried chicken on the sideboard. “Why don’t you carry some home with you, Madeline. That’s way too much for us to eat.”
“That ain’t enough to make a dent in my brothers’ appetites but maybe I will take this for the walk home.” She smiled and took a chicken wing from the platter.
Rose watched from the door as Madeline walked slowly up the lane nibbling her chicken wing. When she had almost reached the end of the lane she turned and waved to Rose – like she expected her to be watching.
* * *
“Now this is good chicken. Did that little Madeline cook this all by herself? Who figured such a scrawny thing could cook like this?”
Rose winked at Pearl as she passed Benjamin the gravy. “She doesn’t look so scrawny to me, Brother. In fact she looks pretty filled out. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”
“That’s quite enough, Rose.” Irene took a bite of chicken. “The girl is a good cook. But I really don’t need any help taking care of my own house, Benjamin.”
Pearl reached over and touched her mother’s hand. “Mama, you’ve earned a bit of rest. I’m worried about you. You’re been looking weary lately.”
“Pearl’s right, Mama. It will be good for you to stay off your feet and let Madeline help out. You know, she has never been to school. We got to talking this afternoon and she told me she can’t even read.”
Benjamin took another piece of chicken. “What does a girl like that need school for? I’ve been thinking about having her sleep here so she’ll be here in the morning to get the fire going and see to breakfast. I don’t want her wasting half the day lollygagging over there.” He pointed his fork in the general direction of the tenant house. “We can put a cot in the pantry. Plenty of room for a cot in there. Better than she has now – sharing a room with four brothers.”
Irene nodded. “What you’re saying makes some sense, Benjamin. It just isn’t proper for a girl that age to be sleeping with her brothers.”
Benjamin glanced at Pearl who lowered her eyes and blushed deeply.
“What if she doesn’t want to come, Benjamin? You can’t just go over there and toss her over your shoulder and lug her back here.”
“No, Rose, I can’t. I was thinking of knocking her out with my crutch and tossing her in the back of my truck.” Benjamin got up from the table and went out to the back porch to smoke his pipe.
“Well, Sister. Guess we had better start getting the pantry ready for Madeline.”
“Rose, you don’t think she’ll actually agree to sleep in our pantry do you? No nice girl would just up and leave her family like that.”
“Pearlie, Madeline ain’t a lady and our brother ain’t no gentlemen.”
“Rose! I’m surprised at you. I won’t have you speaking like in that common fashion in my kitchen.”
“Sorry, Mama. I didn’t mean anything by it. I like Madeline. She’s had experiences.”
Irene fixed her eyes on her daughter. “What kind of experiences?”
“She doesn’t have to waste her time going to school. She acts like an adult.”
“Rose, school certainly is not a waste of time and acting like an adult doesn’t make her one.”
Irene could not know the effect that one “scrawny little girl” was about to have on her family.
Benjamin Marries Madeline
“I don’t have to marry her, Aunt Sarah. I want to marry her.”
“That isn’t what your Mama told me, Benjamin. Boy, are you sure you want to tie yourself down to that little tramp? Benjamin, you are too good for her.”
Sarah had cornered Benjamin on the back porch and she meant to have her say before she let him escape. When Irene had told her that Madeline was pregnant it had come as no surprise to her. She had seen the girl wagging her tail at every man on Pungo Creek. But when her sister told her that the baby was Benjamin’s and that he was planning to marry Madeline she was stunned. “Benjamin, you will just be throwing your life away if you marry her. Why, how do you even know that it’s your baby?” Sarah lowered her voice. “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she had a mulatto child.”
Benjamin had heard enough. “Don’t talk to me about bad choices. From what I’ve been told you picked a sorry assed husband and your baby had calluses on her hands from trying to hang on for nine months. You had better mind your manners around my future wife. I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.” With that Benjamin hobbled down the porch steps and up the lane.
“Was that Benjamin I heard out here, Sarah?” Irene came to the door. “I thought I heard shouting. Did you and Benjamin have words?”
“Yes, we had words. That boy of yours is more pigheaded than all our husbands put together. Are you just going to sit back and let him marry her?”
“Sarah, you know as well as I do that come hell or high water, as soon as that house is ready he is going to marry her.”
“Well he better hurry up or she’ll by dropping that baby on the way to the alter.”
Benjamin had worked determinedly preparing a home for Madeline. Just across the snake and cattail filled branch from the house where he was raised he had built a fancy house for himself and Madeline. It was visible from the porch where Sarah and Irene stood.
Benjamin and Madeline were married the Sunday before Easter in Sidney Free Will Baptist Church.
Madeline wore an elaborate, low cut dress of white taffeta. When Sarah had refused to make the dress, Madeline insisted that Benjamin take her to New Bern where she selected the most expensive dress in town. Ignoring Benjamin’s advice, she picked a dress with a tight-fitting bodice. “Madeline, honey, you can hardly breathe in that dress now. What is going to happen when you are further along?”
On her wedding day, Madeline’s mother struggled to button her dress. “Suck it in, Madeline.”
“I am sucking it in. Shit. My God, you are killing me.” As Madeline waddled up the aisle the congregation sniggered at the wide gap in the back of her dress, only partially hidden by her ornate train.
It was not a happy marriage. Madeline refused to work in Irene’s kitchen. “I’m your wife, not a servant. Besides, Rose doesn’t mind working. I can’t say the same for Pearl. She generally makes herself scarce when I’m around. She looks at me like I’m trash. So does that Aunt of yours.” Benjamin had met his match. No amount of cajoling could convince Madeline to lift a finger in his mother’s house.
Madeline gave birth on the 4th of July. She was very relieved when her mother-in-law commented on how much the baby looked like her husband. They named the baby Jess Benjamin Higson. Irene had hoped they would decide to name the baby Caleb Higson after Benjamin’s father but she was careful not to impose her will on Benjamin and his headstrong wife. After the baby was born Madeline plagued Benjamin until he brought in a girl to help her. He hired Tina.
Tina was fifteen, the same age as Rose and Pearl, when she came to work in Madeline’s kitchen. She was the color of molasses and just as sweet. Everyone loved her – especially children. She treated them with special care even though she was scarcely more than a child herself.
Madeline delegated care of little Jess to Tina who kept the baby with her in the kitchen while Madeline lolled about doing little but eat and complain. Benjamin stayed away as much as he could. He couldn’t hide his disgust at his young wife’s ever increasing bulk. Six months after Jess was born she was larger than she had been just before his birth.
“Madeline, if you don’t stop eating I am going to have to cut a bigger door. Frankly, you are disgusting.”
Madeline just scowled at him and continued shoving gravy soaked biscuits into her mouth.
“That isn’t what your Mama told me, Benjamin. Boy, are you sure you want to tie yourself down to that little tramp? Benjamin, you are too good for her.”
Sarah had cornered Benjamin on the back porch and she meant to have her say before she let him escape. When Irene had told her that Madeline was pregnant it had come as no surprise to her. She had seen the girl wagging her tail at every man on Pungo Creek. But when her sister told her that the baby was Benjamin’s and that he was planning to marry Madeline she was stunned. “Benjamin, you will just be throwing your life away if you marry her. Why, how do you even know that it’s your baby?” Sarah lowered her voice. “Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she had a mulatto child.”
Benjamin had heard enough. “Don’t talk to me about bad choices. From what I’ve been told you picked a sorry assed husband and your baby had calluses on her hands from trying to hang on for nine months. You had better mind your manners around my future wife. I will thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.” With that Benjamin hobbled down the porch steps and up the lane.
“Was that Benjamin I heard out here, Sarah?” Irene came to the door. “I thought I heard shouting. Did you and Benjamin have words?”
“Yes, we had words. That boy of yours is more pigheaded than all our husbands put together. Are you just going to sit back and let him marry her?”
“Sarah, you know as well as I do that come hell or high water, as soon as that house is ready he is going to marry her.”
“Well he better hurry up or she’ll by dropping that baby on the way to the alter.”
Benjamin had worked determinedly preparing a home for Madeline. Just across the snake and cattail filled branch from the house where he was raised he had built a fancy house for himself and Madeline. It was visible from the porch where Sarah and Irene stood.
Benjamin and Madeline were married the Sunday before Easter in Sidney Free Will Baptist Church.
Madeline wore an elaborate, low cut dress of white taffeta. When Sarah had refused to make the dress, Madeline insisted that Benjamin take her to New Bern where she selected the most expensive dress in town. Ignoring Benjamin’s advice, she picked a dress with a tight-fitting bodice. “Madeline, honey, you can hardly breathe in that dress now. What is going to happen when you are further along?”
On her wedding day, Madeline’s mother struggled to button her dress. “Suck it in, Madeline.”
“I am sucking it in. Shit. My God, you are killing me.” As Madeline waddled up the aisle the congregation sniggered at the wide gap in the back of her dress, only partially hidden by her ornate train.
It was not a happy marriage. Madeline refused to work in Irene’s kitchen. “I’m your wife, not a servant. Besides, Rose doesn’t mind working. I can’t say the same for Pearl. She generally makes herself scarce when I’m around. She looks at me like I’m trash. So does that Aunt of yours.” Benjamin had met his match. No amount of cajoling could convince Madeline to lift a finger in his mother’s house.
Madeline gave birth on the 4th of July. She was very relieved when her mother-in-law commented on how much the baby looked like her husband. They named the baby Jess Benjamin Higson. Irene had hoped they would decide to name the baby Caleb Higson after Benjamin’s father but she was careful not to impose her will on Benjamin and his headstrong wife. After the baby was born Madeline plagued Benjamin until he brought in a girl to help her. He hired Tina.
Tina was fifteen, the same age as Rose and Pearl, when she came to work in Madeline’s kitchen. She was the color of molasses and just as sweet. Everyone loved her – especially children. She treated them with special care even though she was scarcely more than a child herself.
Madeline delegated care of little Jess to Tina who kept the baby with her in the kitchen while Madeline lolled about doing little but eat and complain. Benjamin stayed away as much as he could. He couldn’t hide his disgust at his young wife’s ever increasing bulk. Six months after Jess was born she was larger than she had been just before his birth.
“Madeline, if you don’t stop eating I am going to have to cut a bigger door. Frankly, you are disgusting.”
Madeline just scowled at him and continued shoving gravy soaked biscuits into her mouth.
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