Ghost on Black Mountain (37 page)

He smiled. “So what is her plan?”

“She’s going back to school.”

He flinched.

“Not to Chapel Hill, but in Athens, where Anthony goes.”

“He’s a good young man.”

“I have to agree. You don’t run into men like him often.”

He searched my face. “I hope I’m one of those men, Annie.”

I laughed. “Of course you are, Harold. You’re a saint.”

He smiled. “No I’m not.”

“This is the part you won’t care for. She wants to go back to Black Mountain to give Lonnie a ‘proper good-bye.’ It seems she’s told Anthony the whole story, and I mean the whole story. He agrees with her plan. She’s asked me to go with her.”

“What did you say?” He watched me carefully.

“I said yes of course.”

He folded his fingers together on his desk. I had become a member of his congregation. “You seemed so against the place before.”

“I suppose I did.”

“Why the change of heart?”

I shrugged. “My daughter has found the guts to tell her whole story to this man. I have to help her put the past behind her.”

He nodded. “It will be very cleansing for her.”

“Yes. I’m proud of her. She has a lot of guts.”

“A lot like her mother.”

I looked away. “I’m nowhere near as brave as her, Harold.”

“You are. You just don’t know it.”

We set out for Black Mountain the next Monday. I no longer feared what would happen to me if someone recognized me. It was hot and sunny when we pulled into the parking lot of the church. Iona was driving. Aunt Ida’s house had been torn down and replaced by two new houses made to look old. So many people were looking for that kind of thing. I thought of Hobbs’s sister. Did anyone ever find her? Where were Jack and Rose? Did they leave? So many questions were left unanswered. When we got out of the car, Iona smiled at me.

“You don’t have to go up there, Mama.”

“I’m going.”

The graves were on a hill that was completely green, dotted here and there with granite stones. I knew him before he even turned around. His shoulders weren’t as straight, and he leaned forward more, but it was him.

“Mama, I think that’s—”

“Yes, it’s Lonnie’s dad.”

“Or stepdad.”

I touched her arm. “He was more a father than his real father could ever have been.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She looked around. “Maybe I should wait.”

“He won’t mind.” I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t let her know my feelings.

“Come with me.”

“You know I will.” We climbed that hill together.

He turned and watched us, straightening his shoulders. There was a fresh grave. My stomach ached.

“Iona.” He held out his hand. “I’m so glad to see you.”

“I wanted to visit Lonnie’s grave one more time.” She held a small book in her hand. “I have something I want to leave.”

Jack nodded. “Good.” Then he looked at me. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Harbor.”

I looked away with a lump in my throat. “I think I’ll give you some time alone, Iona.”

Iona looked over at me. “Who died?”

“My wife passed away a month ago today.”

“Oh no.” Iona fought tears, and I wondered how good all this truth stuff was for her.

“She had what the doctor called a rare form of cancer.”

I touched his arm. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “I loved her more than I could ever tell her.”

“But she knew.” I looked over at Iona. “You take your time. I’ll walk with Mr. Allen.”

He smiled. “I know who you are,” he whispered.

“We knew each other too well.” We walked through the graves out of earshot. “She doesn’t know, Jack.” It felt good to say his name.

“I know.”

“It’s a mess. I figured it all out, you know. What my lies have caused.”

He patted my shoulder. “Things are better now?”

I smiled. “They are. Iona is better. She’s going back to school.”

“Good.”

We were silent.

“So, how in the world did you end up with his girlfriend, Jack?” There it was, one of the questions that burned in my heart.

“She was my heart, Nellie.”

The words made my legs weak, and I stopped walking.

“I wish I knew how that felt.”

He looked at me. “What about your husband?”

“I’ve not been good at marriages.”

“Rose and I had a fine marriage. It was only Lonnie who tried our patience at times. He had Hobbs’s knack of seeking out trouble wherever he could. Iona is like you, Nellie. She has none of her father in her.”

So he knew.

“I saw you in her the first time she came up that mountain. I thought I was crazy, but then, well, you know …”

“Yes.”

“Her life will be blessed.”

“Not because of anything I’ve done.” I could see the top of Iona’s head as she sat by Lonnie’s grave.

“I think it’s because of what you did do.”

I loved him more as an older man. “You’re too kind, trying to make me feel better, but the truth is, my daughter is smart all on her own. Nothing I did in the past has helped her. It only hurt her.”

“That’s not fair to yourself, Nellie.” His green eyes flashed. “You had to do more than survive.”

We were talking about the past and clearing the air.

“Playing God only causes a person grief and heartache.”

He nodded.

“I’ve had to pay for my sins, and others have paid too.”

“It’s all over. It’s been over for a long time.”

“Not for me.” I looked at him and felt like that dumb young girl.

“You’re a grown woman. Look at you. You’re not that dumb little girl that came riding up the mountain in Hobbs’s truck.”

“Sometimes I think I’m still her.”

He looked around. “This old mountain has been good to me. You know I found Mama’s necklace. Until I saw it, I never believed Hobbs killed anyone other than Clyde Parker. I always thought the mountain gave him way too much credit for his meanness. But I know he killed her. You found the necklace and brought it from his hiding place.” He touched my arm. “You took a cold-blooded murderer out of this world. Nellie, there ain’t no telling how many people you saved beside yourself.”

Was I in a dream? “I’d like to put it behind me.”

“There’s a way. You have to be honest.”

Iona moved toward us

“You look me up sometime, Nellie. I’d love to talk again.” His old smile twinkled in his eyes.

“You have a good life, Jack.”

“I have and now it’s time to start on chapter two.”

I drove us down the mountain, Iona deep in her thoughts and me on the verge of screaming with joy. My talk with Jack released a pent-up fear, the power Hobbs had over me. Was it really over? Not yet.

When we sat down to supper that night, I thought of Jack’s words. I had to be honest. I looked at Harold and Iona and took a big deep breath. “I want to tell you the truth about that story.”

“What story?” Harold was looking through his newspaper, but Iona was alert, watching my face.

“‘Ghost on Black Mountain’?” Iona folded her fingers on the table.

“Yes.”

Harold closed the paper and folded it neat, meeting my stare with interest.

“Now what I’m going to tell you by no means lets me off the hook. You see, it’s like this: Once there was Nellie and Hobbs Pritchard.” Harold watched me close and Iona’s fingers shook. “I was Nellie and I married Hobbs Pritchard even though Mama warned me against him. She saw death in her tea leaves. But I didn’t listen. I thought I knew everything …”

Epilogue

I
ona married Anthony after she finished school. He went off to Vietnam and she fretted at home until his return. They were married in her daddy’s church by her daddy. Iona became a professor at Chapel Hill, where she taught music and played for her family each and every night. Anthony became a well-known wildlife artist. They had three boys, Harold, Tony, and Lonnie.

It took a little time, but Harold finally accepted that Annie was actually Nellie. He never judged her like she so often imagined. Instead, they spent about a year talking endlessly about how she survived such a tough time. Harold loved Annie or Nellie, whoever she was, and there was no doubting that. He loved his daughter, Iona, and never regretted the day he met his wife, even if she wasn’t totally honest. Forgiving her this trespass was the easiest thing he ever did.

Harold died right after preaching one of his favorite sermons, on the prodigal son. He was sixty-eight. Nellie was right by his side, holding him, begging him to breathe. She couldn’t let him go. He was her heart.

She buried him in the cemetery near her daddy. There was one plot left open for her, and even though in that first year she often thought of dying too, she never gave up. She didn’t leave their house for another twelve years. His clothes hung in the closet for as long as she lived there.

Jack Allen lived to be a hundred years old and remained in the old homeplace. He watched more and more folks move to the mountain, even met AzLeigh’s granddaughter, whom he willed the house to. There were many times in his life he often thought he might leave the mountain, but to the end Black Mountain was his home.

In the last years of Nellie’s life, she insisted on moving into an assisted-living home, rather than Iona and Anthony’s house. “A mother has no business living with her daughter. I might tell some important secret when I start to lose my mind.” She grinned at Iona, who only shook her head. Nellie had long ago learned to forgive herself for her sins, since God had forgiven her so many years earlier.

The home where Nellie moved was located right outside of Asheville, not four hours away from Iona, on a small piece of property where the house Hobbs rented for him and Rose once stood. It was here she met Maynard Connor all over again and in a more proper way. He was fine-looking for a man of eighty-three. He’d lived a life full of surprises like Nellie. Of course he remembered her right off and even called her Mrs. Pritchard the first time they spoke.

“I’m not Mrs. Pritchard, you old fool. I’m Nellie to you.”

Maynard only laughed. “You killed him, didn’t you?”

Nellie smiled. “That’s not a story I tell to anyone nowadays, Maynard.”

They were friends the rest of her life, eating supper together and watching movies.

On the day Nellie passed away, before Maynard had one of those little attendees unlock her door, she was sitting in her
recliner looking out the window, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it beat through the glass. She had a perfect view of Black Mountain on a clear day. And that day was clear as a bell.

That mountain was like a picture her son-in-law might paint, every detail defined. She could make out where developers were building a new community. Life went on and on back on Black Mountain. Nellie had come to realize the place was a character within itself, alive and vital like any talking, walking, breathing person. The mountain would never die out, and the thought plain comforted her.

Acknowledgments

T
here are so many people who helped bring
Ghost on Black Mountain
full circle: Holly’s belief in my work kept me in the seat. Jeanie dug in and pushed this book until it landed in the perfect publishing house. You are a blessing sent from God. Kara Cesare brought out the best in my writing through her fabulous editing. I’m grateful to my Jack for encouraging me when a lot of husbands would have stopped believing. I couldn’t have written a word without Ella. You always have the best ideas. Thank you to my lovely grown children, Melissa, Cassey, Beth, and Stephen, for listening to their mother rattle on and on about Black Mountain. Thank you to my enduring fan Myrtis Doyle. You never gave up on this writer. We haven’t made it to Hollywood yet, but I got a feeling we will. Thanks to Darlene and Dianne for reading the book so many times their vision grew worse. If not for my brother, who was forced as a young child to listen to my stories, Hobbs and Nellie might not have come into existence. And a special thanks to Maria for being my voice of reason on this journey.