Ghost on Black Mountain (3 page)

“AzLeigh ain’t crazy.” Both Hobbs and Jack said this almost at the same time, and both frowned at each other for having done it.

“She’s about as smart as one woman can be.” Jack’s words were soft.

“I don’t reckon any of us knows AzLeigh better than her own blood brother.” Hobbs shot a look at me. “You want Mama’s things?”

My words stuck in my mouth. I didn’t know how to answer.

“Sure we do, Aunt Ida.” He looked away from me like my not answering didn’t mean a thing.

“Good, come on in here and take a look. Jack, you need to see if there’s anything you want to take.”

I felt Hobbs’s arm stiffen around my shoulders.

“No. I don’t want nothing. I don’t have a claim to it.”

Hobbs relaxed just a bit. “Let’s get this mess and head on home. Me and Nellie here has some unfinished business.” He winked at me, and for a second I couldn’t imagine what he was talking about until I looked at the sly smile on Aunt Ida’s face, and my cheeks heated like they was on fire. I looked at the ground.

“Look now, how you’ve shamed that poor child. You got to remember she’s a proper young lady, Hobbs. She ain’t used to the likes of you. Take that other girl down in Asheville …” Aunt Ida rambled on.

“Aunt Ida, let’s get them things.” Hobbs pulled me into the house.

I was too busy trying to cool down the heat in my face to give anything else much thought, and that was bad on my part. Anyway, I never thought he was some kind of saint. I knew he had to have had some girlfriends, being older than me by eight
years. But what came before me was before me and it didn’t matter.

“Hobbs, you should let me send some help for your new wife. That big dirty house is a sight and you know it.” Aunt Ida had a stern look on her face.

“I don’t want nobody underfoot, Aunt Ida.”

“I bet there’s ten years’ worth of dust, not to mention them floors. The little colored gal that works for the preacher could do it.”

I opened my mouth to say no thank you, but Aunt Ida cut a glare at me that hushed me up.

“I better not even see that girl’s face,” Hobbs threatened.

Aunt Ida smiled. “I’ll send her tomorrow.”

“That’s nice, ma’am.” What was I going to say?

“You can call me Aunt Ida.” She cocked her eyebrow at me.

The things Aunt Ida gave us were as lacy and dainty as a fine woman in her flower garden, like the linens Mama washed with her dried cracked fingers for the rich women of Asheville. I touched the sheets and thought of Hobbs and me wrapped in them quiet, not all hurried like our first time. I stole me a glance at him and he caught it with his crooked smile. Hobbs didn’t know a thing about slowing down.

The lace was soft under my touch, not the scratchy dime-store stuff. How would I fit in with such nice things? The closest I ever came to fine things was a bar of lavender soap, a washtub, and a scrub board.

Hobbs’s house looked the same as the rich houses in Asheville. It had a whopper of a porch, the kind that wrapped around the house, the kind I used to imagine I could roller-skate on all afternoon without one chore waiting on me.

“Nice, ain’t it?”

I was without one little word. At home me and Mama could hear each other breathe at night.

“My daddy built it for my mama when he brought her here from Asheville. She came from a rich family and was used to the finer things in life. Daddy loved her. We all did. She made a room glow when she entered.” He looked so far off I was afraid he might not come back.

“I ain’t never been past the front hall of a house that big.” I whispered the words.

“Let’s go in, Mrs. Hobbs Pritchard. Mama would approve of you.”

The house was musty with age and lack of love. Cobwebs hung here and there. The windows were filthy. I was proud someone was coming to help because we had our work cut out for us. Lordy be, Mama would die. Hobbs loved me enough to marry me and bring me to such a fine home. I was the luckiest girl in the state of North Carolina. I threw my arms around his neck.

“Whoa, girl.” He laughed as he lost his balance and fell backwards on the sofa that was covered with a dusty sheet. His kisses reminded me of soft peppermint sticks and were just as dangerous as sugar was to teeth. Maybe one day I could teach him how to slow down. We had a whole lifetime ahead. Mama was so wrong. I’d have to write her a letter and tell her about my new home. Maybe Hobbs would get over being hurt and let her come visit. Outside the big window in the front room was the perfect place for a garden. The sun caught on the river that twisted off in the woods. The sound would sing me to sleep every night.

Hobbs kissed me some more. Aunt Ida mentioning that girl shouldn’t have bothered me a bit. Was she someone recent? All those silly thoughts kept pricking me as sharp as a needle sewing through thick cloth.

Three

T
hat night as Hobbs slept tangled in his mother’s fine linens, I stood in the window, overlooking the front yard, watching the mountain breathe.
Nellie.
The name floated over the sound of the river. I was thinking on my marriage to Hobbs. Wishing somehow things could have been different. Mama was an ache in my chest. A big old harvest moon hung in the sky, bathing the clearing with a ghost light.

The man stood at the edge of the woods just like he belonged there, like a brown tin photo from time gone by. He stared out at the house. Was he the mountain come alive? That was silly. He was a living, breathing trespasser. I turned to call Hobbs from the bed, but when I glanced back the man was gone. Had he seen me and run? Or was he part of my dreams?

That morning after breakfast someone knocked on the kitchen door. Hobbs was out at the barn.

A little colored girl dressed in a faded blue shift nodded. “I be Shelly. Mrs. Dobbins told me I had to come over and help you.” It was clear she was not happy to be on our doorstep.

I guessed her age to be fourteen. “Nice to meet you, Shelly.”

She gave me a long look. “You tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Come on in, and we’ll get started.” I stepped out of the door.

“Yes ma’am.”

“My husband was born here.” I looked around the room.

“Everybody knows that, ma’am.” She watched me.

“Well, it’s a mess.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I looked out the window just in time to see Hobbs leave the barn and climb into his truck. “You stay here.” I went out on the porch. “Hey Hobbs.”

He looked over at me with a frown and stopped the truck. “I’m going to take care of business.”

I ran up to the passenger side. “That girl is here to help.”

“Well, get her to work. I don’t want to pay good money for her standing around. I can’t see why you couldn’t do the work yourself.”

I opened my mouth to remind him how I never asked for no help, but he kept talking.

“I ain’t going to be bothered with woman’s work, Nellie. You go take care of that. I’ll see you tonight.” He shifted the truck into gear and stepped on the gas.

“I love you.” But I was shouting at the back of the truck.

“Mrs. Pritchard.” Shelly stood in the door.

“Nellie, call me Nellie.”

“My mama would tan my hide for that. No ma’am, it ain’t proper.” She had her hand on her hip.

“I’m closer to your age than your mama’s.”

“I’ll be fourteen on Christmas.”

“Eighteen in the spring.”

Shelly shook her head. “Mama was right.”

“What?” I followed her back into the kitchen.

“She said that anyone that would marry Hobbs Pritchard was either crazy in the head or so young she had no sense.” She looked at me as I filled a pot with water. “I guess you be the last one. I ain’t got a bit of use for Hobbs Pritchard, ma’am. Most on this mountain don’t. Mama would whip me for saying that, but I’m warning you. He ain’t liked.” She took the pot from me and put it on the wood stove.

I stoked the fire.

“You want to start with washing these walls and windows? Ain’t nobody cared for this house in a passel of years.” Shelly waited for my answer.

“Why don’t you like Hobbs?”

“I ain’t going to talk about it. Don’t ask me no more.”

“Shoot. I don’t have any soap. How can we clean?” I looked in the cupboard.

“I got some stuff Mama sent. She figured you’d be lacking in this house.” Shelly went to the door and picked up a feed bag. “The only reason Mrs. Dobbins is doing this, letting me work here today, is to get Hobbs’s old aunt to come to church. Miss Ida Pritchard snubbing the church has crawled right under Mrs. Dobbins’s skin.” She pulled some bottles out of the bag. “One more thing.”

If I kept my mouth shut, Shelly would end up answering all my questions.

“This house has a ghost roaming the rooms because of you.”

For a minute I couldn’t speak. A cold prickle ran up my scalp. “What do you mean?” A pressure built in my stomach and worked into my chest.

She shrugged. “I got sight. Them spirits stuck here on this mountain always come to bother me.”

“Mama said ghosts just aren’t so.” I moved to the other side of the kitchen and pushed the memory of the man standing in the yard from my mind. There wasn’t no such thing as ghosts.

“No disrespect, ma’am, but your mama lies.” She lined up her cleaning supplies on the table. “Just be careful is all.”

“I think the walls and windows will do fine.” This strange girl and me had a lot of work to do. “There will be some ghosts around here if Hobbs comes home and we ain’t working.”

Shelly looked at me sharp. “It ain’t no joking matter, Miss Pritchard.”

No, it sure isn’t.

Four

T
he days turned chilly. The beauty of the leaves, the view of the valley, and the happiness rushing around my insides made me know I was in the best place in the world. The house showed a little order after Shelly and me got a hold of it. We got the rooms where me and Hobbs spent most of our time. We scrubbed, polished, washed, and ironed until I thought I might fall flat on my face. Shelly came two times a week. We didn’t talk too much after that first day and I sure didn’t see any ghosts. Us working together filled up what would have been empty hours.

I found me a lavender bush out beside the kitchen door. Lord, I guessed Hobbs hadn’t even paid it no mind. It was probably growing wild from back when his mama planted it. Come late spring the lavender added to water and sprinkled throughout the rooms would give the place a fresh smell. Just like home.

Hobbs and me visited with Aunt Ida nearly every day. Some days it was the last place I wanted to be. I tried and tried to talk
to that woman. I smiled. I even searched my heart for goodwill, but Aunt Ida ruined everything I did with her sharp words and disgusted looks. But shame always built in my heart, and I went with a smile on my face, being how Hobbs loved his family so much. I couldn’t fault him that. Jack kept out of sight—only showing up when we stayed for supper—quiet and brooding like a thunderstorm in the distance. That was too bad. The truth was I wanted to know more about Jack.

One evening Hobbs and me stood in the kitchen with Aunt Ida. Hobbs had a way of saying what was on his mind, no matter how bad it came out. “Aunt Ida, you got to teach Nellie to cook.” He threw one of his “I know everything” looks at me. “Her food tastes like that soup kitchen she worked in.” He laughed at his own joke, but Aunt Ida only stared at me with a smug look on her face.

I didn’t take no offense to Hobbs’s remark. Shoot, he talked like that all the time. It was just his way. I didn’t come from a family like his. Mama and me were plain people with simple ideas. “When can I come for a cooking lesson, Aunt Ida?” I turned on my smile.

Hobbs laughed like he won some contest. “You can try and teach her. I’m not sure it’ll help.” He went outside.

Aunt Ida gave me a long, slow look. “You come on down here tomorrow. I’ll show you his favorite dinner.”

“What is his favorite?” Her biscuits were soft and fluffy just like Mama’s. Come to think of it, my biscuits were like Mama’s. Maybe Hobbs hadn’t noticed how good they were. He was always thinking on something else.

“Chicken pot pie. His mama made it when she was alive.”