On Agate Hill (17 page)

Actually I like the baby Jesus better than I like the grownup Jesus whose eye is on the sparrow and I know he watcheth me. Aunt Mitty said,
You have an eternal soul, Molly, whether you want it or not.
I hate that. This makes Jesus seem to me like a sharpshooter in Wade Hamptons army, moving from tree to tree with his rifle aimed at me.

The orange exploded with sweetness in my mouth.

January 13, 1873

Dear Diary,

We did not go back to Four Oaks. There will be a funeral later for Mama Marie and Aunt Mitty when it thaws and the minister can come. As for now they are froze in their caskets out there in the little tobacco barn with Rom and Spence to watch over them. Susie disappeared from the house leaving a note which I had to read aloud to Uncle Junius. She said that she had been well provided for thanks to Aunt Mitty, and that she would pray for us all. Selena sniffed. I am certainly glad SOMEBODY has been provided for, she said. Selenas baby is starting to show now. I put the note into Uncle Junius hand but he dropped it onto the counterpane. His eyes are like old milkglass when he opens them, but mostly he sleeps. Liddy boils chicken to make him a hearty broth though he has nearly quit eating. He sleeps, and Selena sleeps, or else she paces, I can hear her in the night. Sometimes she takes Uncle Junius medicine herself, to help her rest. Sometimes she talks to herself. Those men in the black coats have come here twice now. Victoria is planning to run away with Declan Moylan whenever he gets a horse. Victoria and me work like dogs and sometimes we play games but whenever I look in her eyes I can tell, she is already gone. In the interests of phenomena she has showed me her breasts which have gotten bigger. But guess what Dear Diary? Now I am getting some too.

January 18, 1873

Dear Diary,

It is nothing but snow and work here now. This is the coldest winter that anybody can remember. Since Godfrey lies sick it is my job to go to the well for water and when I drop the bucket down, it breaks the ice every time. So I must go often in order to keep it broke up, Washington does this at night.
Let me go for Molly,
he said this morning, but Selena made him chop more wood instead as there is no one else to do it. The springhouse trough has already froze and quit running down in the cellar.

At least I get to wear Julias old green boots now, I found them up here in the closet. Victoria tried to take them but Selena gave them to me since Victoria refuses to work outside. Selena slapped her yesterday.

January 21, 1873

Dear Diary,

Selena doses Godfrey up with whisky and honey which does not help, you can hear him coughing all over the house. For years I have wished he would die but now I am not so sure as it seems he might. He will burn in Hell for sure if there is one. But I am so cold right now as I sit here writing that Hell sounds pretty good.

I put socks on my hands for gloves but they are cracked and bleeding anyhow. Liddy rubs them with lard. My face is as red and rough as a cob I can not write my hands are too cold This is my blood on this page

It is snowing again

January 25, 1873

Snowing and Snowing

Dear Diary,

Washington and me played checkers in front of the hearth in the kitchen while Liddy baked sweet potatoes in the coals. Selena did not mind, she came in and smiled and touched my head. Her face is very thin now but all of a sudden I see that she is beautiful, in the way of La Belle Dame Sans Merci in Mary Whites book which is gone. This is a poem which I am forgetting already. But it is hard for me to read now anyway, for some reason I can not keep my mind on the page. I dont know what is wrong with me.

January 30, 1873

Dear Diary,

For once I have some good news! Spence and Rom came with a load of wood and some food stuffs from Four Oaks, so Liddy fried pork chops and eggs before they left and we all ate so much we could not move and Spence played Liza Jane on his harmonica for Uncle Junius who never opened his eyes. I wonder if Spence even knows Uncle Junius is his father. Cant he remember riding his pony Silver Shoes and learning his lessons with Fannie? Cant he remember anything? Sometimes I think, which is worse? To remember nothing or to remember too much, like me? Rom is a skinny mean looking negro man with scars on his cheeks, he used to be the slave driver. But he is devoted to Spencer and sometimes he plays the banjo along with him.

I hated to see them go, watching from the parlor window as they drove their wagon off into a landscape so gray that you couldnt tell the land from the sky. My breath made ice on the inside of the pane.

February 3, 1873

Where is he?
Selena stood in the kitchen drinking coffee, her hands shook so bad that the coffee splashed onto the floor.

She means Doctor Lambeth, who has not come for days.

Nevermind. Here now. You have got to eat, Liddy said. She dished up a plate of fried potatoes and bacon and put it on the table. Sit down. Liddy is small and quiet but she will boss anybody, even Selena, if she takes a mind to.

Selena sat down and picked up the fork then looked away. Oh Liddy I cant do it, she said.

Liddy said, How you think that baby is going to eat?

I dont care. I cant understand where he is, Selena said. Junius will die without his medicine.

Liddy looked at her. Mister Junius going to die anyway, she said.

Then Selena twisted around to grab Liddys skirt. Send Washington, she said.

But Liddy shook her head. Its too bad out. Look how dark it is out that window.

Washington has got to go right now, Selena said.

Finally even Liddy could tell it was no use talking to her about it.

So Selena ate her breakfast and Washington left for Hillsborough in a sleeting rain and now it is night and he has not got back yet.

February 4, 1873

Dear Diary,

The worst has happened, the well has froze. Now I must go to the spring in the woods and break the ice to get the water. Yesterday I got so tired on my last trip out there that I sat down to rest for a minute before starting back. The buckets get so heavy when they are full. I lay back in the snow underneath that big pine tree which makes the nicest sound, like it is sighing or singing a lullaby just for me. It was so quiet and peaceful in the snow that I might have gone to sleep for a while but woke to see a fairy sitting on the bough just above my head. His face was dark and pointed, his little cap was red.
Wake up Molly Petree,
he said in his high chirping voice.
Go home.
He pointed his green gloved finger straight at me. Then he lifted off. His wings beat the air to a silvery blur. It was almost dark but he shone like a star as he disappeared into the tree. I got up from the snow and hoisted my buckets and headed home.

Washington has not returned, may be he never will.