On Agate Hill (33 page)

F
OR
N
O
O
NE’S
E
YES

June 12, 1877

Dear Lord,

Thus am I tested, thus have I fallen, thus am I debased, yet now See. Though I have walked through the Valley of Evil, Thou hast set my feet upon Thy righteous Path again, Thou hast restored my Soul. Thus I say with renewed fervor, Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven, Amen.

Under the clear blue sky of this Sabbath day that Thou hast made, oh Lord, I cannot even imagine what I was thinking of.

The cold fact is that Simon Black never cared for me. He used me. He continues to use us, & our Academy. Simon Black has no thought for anyone save Molly Petree, this was made manifest in our conversation with him yesterday following Sunday lunch which was excellent if I do say so myself, including a Charlotte Russe prepared by our new Mrs. Matney. But Mr. Black did not mention the dessert, nor the lunch, nor the beauty of the Commencement ceremony itself. He ate his food methodically, one serving after another without comment, until he was done. It was quite strange. He is quite strange. I have been quite deluded. It is as if Mr. Black has no time nor thought for the niceties. He is a driven man. Yet undeniably he does have charm of a sort, a kind of gravitas …

Dr. Snow had placed Molly across the table from him, along with Agnes, who blushed & made the silliest Remarks throughout the meal, she seemed quite lacking in Social Skills herself. Yet of course Simon Black ignored her as well, reserving all his attention for Molly Petree who appeared almost to scorn it, answering his questions as briefly as possible, fidgeting in her chair, flipping her hair back out of her eyes in that way she has, casting a beseeching eye toward Eliza Valiant when her family left their table.

At length Dr. Snow placed his napkin upon the tablecloth. “Girls, you
may be Excused, though I daresay, Molly, that Mr. Black will wish to speak to you again before his departure.”

“Yes Sir.” Molly bobbed a curtsy, edging toward the door. “I shall be in the yard with Eliza & the little boys, Sir,” she said, & he nodded.

Simon Black’s eyes followed her out of the doorframe into the sunshine. He turned to me. “What relationship does Molly have with that young man, the brother?”

His question surprised me. “Why, none at all, that I know of,” I said. “She visited the family at Christmastime, as you know.”

He continued to stare out the door at her, now kneeling to talk to one of Eliza’s little brothers. “And who was that student, that cadet, waiting for her last night after commencement?”

I did not know what he was talking about, & said so.

“You had better find out then,” he said to me darkly, “for I am paying a good deal of money to have this girl chaperoned.”

Here I took Umbrage. “I can assure you, Sir,” I said, “that the utmost attention has been paid to the whereabouts & occupations of Molly Petree. Many of our girls have beaus, & some are engaged to be married, but despite her proclivities, Molly has shown no interest in any young man to date, isn’t that right?” I queried Agnes who nodded, blushing.

“You may go now, Agnes,” I said to her, & she scuttled out.

“What do you mean by Molly’s proclivities, Mrs. Snow?” Simon Black turned to look at me. “What proclivities might those be?”

Now it was my turn to redden; I found myself biting my lip. “I suppose that her—er—History has made me particularly watchful concerning her Virtue,” I admitted, after a pause.

“Though there has been absolutely no cause for concern,” Dr. Snow said, stepping upon my foot so hard as to crush the bones, I was wearing my peau de soie slippers, no doubt I deserved it. “Molly has done extremely well here at Gatewood Academy.”

“Indeed,” Simon Black said, watching her now out the window as she
held hands & danced round & round in a circle with two of the little boys. “She is not to be courted. She is too young for boys,” he announced abruptly. “I shall appreciate your keeping them away from her in general. Keep her busy. I should like for her to continue her studies as well as teach. When she is old enough for courting, we shall discuss these matters further.”

I could tell that the turn of the conversation surprised Dr. Snow. It did not surprise me. I know Him, as I said. I recognize Him. For me, it was as though a heavy iron door had swung to with a resounding clang that will echo in my mind forever. Of course, I realized.

My instincts are Infallible.

For Simon Black really is the Devil, I have known it all along. I have a sense of these things. Now I see that He wanted me only as a caretaker, a teacher, a nursemaid. For He has marked Molly Petree as His Own, & He will come back to claim her. I know it absolutely. Thank God that I myself have been spared his dark Attentions.

And now to the Bath.

Mariah Rutherford Snow
Headmistress, Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

On a final note, I wonder how much one should punish oneself for a sin committed only in the Mind, as opposed to Actuality? In other words, what part intentionality and what part actuality go to make up a Sin? For I feel as guilty as if I had committed the Act. I must Atone.

• • •

Molly Petree
Gatewood Academy
Hopewell, Virginia

August 26, 1878

Dear Mary White,

We are leaving here, Agnes and myself, I write while she flits around this little stone house like a moth in the wavy light of all our candles and lamps burning at once, for it is late and we have not much time. I still cannot believe we are leaving. For I have been happy here in this quiet life, we have tea and read books, and take the girls on walks and expeditions, and give drama productions written by me, every other Friday evening. But now Agnes is packing up all she owns, which I have already done. Mine did not take long. Primus will drive us up to Danville at first light, then Agnes has hired a hack to take us on from there. It is all arranged. Chloe our cat will come too in her wicker basket.

I do not expect to sleep a wink all night. This is due to excitement not pain, for my eye does not even hurt now.

Agnes is a heroine.

You might not think it to look at her, for she is so slight and almost wispy somehow, as if she might blow away, she looks like this especially right now for her fine wavy hair escapes its bun to form a gentle halo around her head as she marches past in her night gown, arms full, red spots on her cheeks and her little mouth set in a line of determination. She looks like an avenging angel which she is.

Agnes and I and Bessie Barwick and Frances Tuttle (who are old, who have nowhere else to go) have been the only teachers left at Gatewood Academy for the past two weeks, save for the Snows, of course. The students were just arriving for start of term when word came of smallpox at the Military Institute, one cadet dead and two more fallen ill. We had to meet our girls at
the gate and turn them back, Mrs. Snow beside herself with frustration. Then her own little Harry, not two, took sick and died. We buried him this morning in the old Gatewood family plot across the road, in a wooden box which looked so small to me as Primus shoveled the dirt on top of it, and so sad, for children are sad, they have no say in anything, anything at all. Mrs. Snow was not present at the service, being
prostrate with grief.
Dr. Snow said the words. We all stood out in the weedy grass under a heavy sky, with lightning off in the distance. Raindrops as big as quarters began to splash on the stone walk just as we came back through the wrought iron gate into the yard.

“Let’s run,” Agnes said, pulling my hand, but I stood still in the yard and turned my face up to the rain which I have always loved to do, remember how you and I used to dance around up on Indian Rock when it thundered. Those days are long gone, and I am a young lady now and a teacher, but I still want to run and scream when it storms. Agnes would not understand this, though she loves me. I guess I am sort of crazy! But I don’t care.

I stood out there until it quit raining and I was thoroughly wet and then the sun came out shining off the drops on all the old-fashioned white musk roses and the bridal wreath and the sweet shrubs. It is like all the flowers are blooming as hard and as fast as they can right now because they know fall is coming soon, and they will die. A steady stream of water ran down off the roof from the high gable where I lived in the attic room for so long with my girlfriends, it seems like ages ago. Steam rose from the black earth around the sundial, it was like the whole garden was breathing. I closed my eyes and took in the thick sweet scent of the roses until a shiver ran over my entire body and I opened my eyes suddenly to find Dr. Snow, still in his heavy black suit, standing right in front of me, quite close.

He looked like a scarecrow in the garden.

“Ah, Molly,” he said.

I jumped back stepping on some of Mrs. Snow’s petunias. I knew I looked a sight with my hair falling down and my dress all wet and sticking to me. “I was just going in to change clothes,” I said.

“No, wait—,” he moved closer, awkwardly. “You are such a pretty girl,”
he said in a strange voice which I would not have recognized. He reached out to touch my breast, then began to stroke me. For a moment I stood quite still, looking out across his shoulder at the school. I remember thinking how empty and golden the garden seemed at that moment, as if it were a stage set. I felt like I was under a spell. “Come along now, Molly,” he said, “just for a moment.” He cleared his throat. “Since Mrs. Snow is incapacitated and we have so few of our faculty here now, I shall need to ask you to perform a few additional duties.” He sounded very formal, though his blue eyes popped and his face was brick red. “Especially as your handwriting is so fine,” he added. “Can you come with me now?” He pulled me roughly in the direction of his office, almost a twin of the fairy house I share with Agnes.

But the spell was broken.

“No Sir,” I said, hitting him as hard as I could in his ugly red nose and pushing him backward at the same time so that he fell against the sundial, and me with him, into the wet black dirt. “No Sir,” I said again as suddenly Nicky Eck came into my mind, and that little girl who lay on the floor of the barn, and how Spencer came to pick her up, up, and up, and I felt suddenly like I was flying, full of power, and I
kicked
him, Mary White, I cannot remember it really but I know I kicked him for Harry, and for Spencer, for Spencer is dead and I had loved him with all my heart. I
do not like
Dr. Snow, nor Mrs. Snow, nor even Simon Black who is my benefactor, for there is something awful about having a benefactor. I kicked Dr. Snow again, I kept remembering how it felt when Spencer lifted me up but how he is dead now like they all are, all my ghosts.
But I do not want to die yet
. I ran across the garden to our own little house with Dr. Snow calling out after me, and suddenly I looked up and saw that there was a rainbow in the sky. A rainbow! It started out over in the direction of town and ended up in the orchard.

I ran into our house and told Agnes everything.

“Oh Molly,” she said, dropping her embroidery onto the floor. “Come on now, we must get you cleaned up, and then we must go to Mariah immediately. We have to tell her. She will know what to do.”

“I think that is a terrible idea,” I said immediately.

“Oh no, you underestimate my sister, she will fix everything, you’ll see. Why just look at your poor face,” for I had hit my cheek somehow on the sundial.

Agnes rinsed it off with a cool wet towel, and dragged me out the door.

They were waiting for us in the parlor, seated in the red velvet chairs on either side of the fireplace, as still as those figurines on the sideboard at Agate Hill. Mrs. Snow’s skin had gone dead white. Her black hair swooped back in great stiff wings on each side of her face. Dark circles smudged her pale gray eyes. Her long thin fingers plucked at the folds in her skirt.

“Oh Mariah,” Agnes began all breathless, but Mrs. Snow held up her hand, palm outward, in that way she has. “Do not even attempt to talk to me about the particularities of this incident, Agnes,” she said. “Dr. Snow and I are in total accord.”

For the first time I looked directly at Dr. Snow, who sat holding a white handkerchief to his nose. He had put on another jacket, but his pants and his shoes still bore traces of mud from the garden. I wondered if his rib cage still hurt where I had kicked him. I hoped so. He stared back at me, eyes narrowed, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. A Monarch butterfly fluttered in the butterfly bush outside the parlor window.

“I wonder if you
really do know
what the particularities of this incident are,” Agnes said, to my surprise. Red dots of color had appeared on her cheeks.

“I know more than enough, thank you, my dear sister. I know all I need to know.”

“And what is that, Mariah?” Agnes kept right after her, like a dog on a bone, as Selena would have said. “What is it that you think you know?”