Spencer's Mountain (20 page)

“You can have her later, Livy,” said Zebulon. “First I'm goen to take her around and show her New Dominion.”

Lisa looked at Olivia as if to ask her permission, but the old man was already halfway down the steps and waiting for her to follow.

“Excuse me,” Lisa said to the other women and followed Zebulon down the walk.

“I reckon we'll use Virgil's car,” said the old man as they walked out to where the cars were parked.

Lisa obediently got in the front seat and Zebulon climbed in the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.

“Old man, what do you think you're doen?” called Eliza from the porch.

Her answer was a roar from the engine and a jerky start as the car took off with all the speed it was capable of, turned the corner, and disappeared down the hill.

“Oh my God!” cried Eliza. “That old man hasn't driven a car in years, and he can't see the nose in front of his face!”

Lisa could not hear her but she had already come to the same conclusion by the time the car had reached the foot of the hill and Zebulon guided it in a wide screeching arc around the curve. Coming out of the turn he gunned the motor again just in time to arrive at another sharper curve at the corner of the mill. This one he took on two wheels. Neither did he slow down for the narrow little bridge over the creek or the railroad crossing. This brought them to the center of the little group of buildings which made up the business district of New Dominion, but instead of stopping here as Lisa supposed he might, he zoomed through the village square in a swirl of dust and headed up the long hill that led to open country.

“I thought you were going to show me New Dominion, Mr. Spencer,” said Lisa, half fearing to speak lest she distract him from his driving.

“That's all there is to it back there,” said Zebulon. “Just a lot of shanties and mill dust. I decided to show you the only folks around here worth the gunpowder it'd take to blow 'em to hell.”

“Who is that?” asked Lisa, already dreading that she would have to go on display again.

“You'll see,” he promised.

They had come out of the hilly section of the country and there lay before them a long stretch of straight highway. Lisa began to breathe a little easier until she noticed a car coming toward them in the distance and even though the old man seemed to see it clearly he made no move to get the car out of the center and into the right lane of the road.

Somehow the other car managed to swerve around them just in time to prevent a head-on collision.

“That feller wasn't watchen where he was goen,” growled Zebulon.

“Mr. Spencer,” asked Lisa, “wouldn't you like me to drive the rest of the way?”

“Thanks all the same, daughter,” replied Zebulon, “but I plumb enjoy it.”

“Well, then would you please go a little slower so I can get a look at this pretty countryside?” pleaded Lisa.

Zebulon slowed down to about forty miles an hour, and while they still weren't going as slowly or as carefully as Lisa would have wished she began to breathe again and realized for the first time that her clenched hand against the door handle had begun to hurt from holding on, and she let go.

Almost immediately she grasped the door handle again, for without any warning and hardly slowing down at all Zebulon had wheeled off the highway onto a little wooded dirt road. He was forced to slow down now because the road was an old one, filled with mud puddles and sudden bumps and depressions.

“Hold on, daughter,” he shouted. “It's just around the bend.”

As they came out of the turn, Lisa saw ahead a driveway. It was bordered with ancient boxwood leading up to four graceful, ruined Grecian columns—all that remained of what had once been a charming old Confederate mansion. Zebulon brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the columns, pressed the horn furiously three times and got out of the car.

Followed by Lisa, Zebulon made his way through the decaying columns out into a cleared space where there stood a smaller replica of the original house. The front door was open and two elderly ladies in overalls were waiting just inside the screen door. Recognizing Zebulon, they hurried to meet him.

“Look here, Etta, who's come to see us!” said the older and stouter of the two women. “Isn't this a treat!”

“It's been a long time, Mr. Spencer,” said the younger woman. “I was saying to Emma just the other day how we missed you and wondered when you'd make it down to see us again.”

“It ain't every day I get hold of a car,” explained Zebulon, “else I'd be down here every day.”

“I wish I'd known you were coming. Sister and I would have put on something nice instead of having you find us looking like two ragamuffins,” said Etta.

“Ladies, I want to introduce my new daughter-in-law. This here is Virgil's girl and her name is Lisa.”

“Virgil's girl, now!” exclaimed Emma. “Let me look at you.”

Miss Emma looked at Lisa admiringly, turned to her sister and said, “Did you ever in your life see anything so pretty, Etta?”

Etta nodded pleasantly. “We're right fond of Virgil, honey,” she said. “Virgil never goes up to New Dominion that he doesn't stop off to see us on his way back to Richmond.”

“You-all come on in and make yourselves comfortable,” said Miss Emma, leading the way into the house. “In honor of the company we'll sit in the living room. Etta, open some windows and let some air in there.”

“Kitchen will do for us, Miss Emma,” said Zebulon. “This gal ain't company. She's family.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Spencer. Please don't look at the house, Lisa-Honey, we're just two old-maid sisters here and don't have the help there used to be in the old days.”

“It's a very pretty house,” ventured Lisa.

“It's really what Grandpa used to call a
garçonierrie
,” explained Miss Emma. “You see, he had so many sons he decided to build quarters for them away from the main house so he built this one exactly like it. The main house just fell in one day, so Sister and I moved on over here. We ought to keep it up more but we're so busy maken the recipe we hardly have time for anything else.”

At the mention of the recipe Zebulon's eyes lighted up and as they arrived in the kitchen he looked around thirstily.

“Etta,” said Miss Emma, “find Mr. Zebulon a container so he can sample that new recipe.” She turned to address Zebulon. “I was sayen to Sister just a while ago I think it's the best run we've had in years.”

Miss Emma rummaged through some cooking utensils in the sink until she found a tin dipper. She handed it to Zebulon, who went to a row of earthenware crocks, uncorked one and filled his tin dipper to the brim with the clear white liquid.

He took a sip and rolled it around in his mouth, savored it with his tongue, and then swallowed. “That's one hundred per cent,” he announced and took a longer second drink.

“I always did say,” remarked Miss Emma, “that nobody ever appreciated the recipe half as much as Mr. Zebulon Spencer. Etta, serve Virgil's girl some recipe.”

Miss Etta washed a drinking tumbler and filled it from the same earthenware crock Zebulon had sampled and brought it to Lisa. Lisa raised the glass to her lips and took a small sip. A fire started in her mouth and worked its way down to the pit of her stomach.

The two sisters looked at her as if waiting for a verdict.

“It's strong,” said Lisa. “What is it?”

“It's Papa's recipe,” explained Miss Emma. “Papa used to make it all the time and then when he passed on we used to get so many calls for it that Sister and I just kept on making it. Help yourself there, Mr. Zebulon, there's plenty.”

Zebulon poured himself a second dipper of the liquor. “People come from miles around here to buy from Miss Emma and Miss Etta,” said Zebulon.

“We had a gentleman stop off last week all the way from Raleigh, North Carolina,” said Etta proudly. “He was a traveling man and somebody in Charlottesville told him about the recipe. He loved it so much he took a whole gallon of it back to Raleigh with him.”

“It gives us something to do in our old age,” said Miss Emma, “and it makes people happy so I can't see why we shouldn't keep right on providing. But gracious me, here I am rattling on about myself, and I haven't heard a word about you. Tell us all about your romance with Virgil Spencer, how you met and fell in love.”

She waved to the earthenware crocks. “While we're talking, Mr. Zebulon, since you know your way around, just make yourself at home.”

Zebulon nodded his thanks and made his way to the row of crocks to refill his empty dipper.

When Virgil and his brothers returned to Clay's house they found their wives waiting for them on the porch. Virgil
noticed that his car was gone and when he came up to the porch he asked his mother, “Where's my car?”

“Your daddy took it and he took your wife with him. I'm near about worried to death he's wrecked that car and killed the both of them.”

“We'd better go look for them,” said Virgil to his brothers. They all returned to the car and piled in together.

“Where you reckon we ought to look for Papa?” asked Virgil.

“There ain't but one place Papa goes when he's on the loose, and that's down to Miss Emma and Miss Etta's,” said Clay. “Wouldn't mind stoppen off to see them old ladies myself,” he added.

Lisa had just come to the end of her recitation of her romance with Virgil when a horn sounded from somewhere in front of the house, and shortly thereafter a knock sounded at the door.

“My gracious,” said Miss Emma. “Looks like we've got some more company. Go see who it is, Etta.”

Miss Etta returned in a few minutes, followed by Virgil Spencer and his eight brothers.

“Well, if this isn't a treat!” exclaimed Miss Emma. “Etta, find chairs for everybody. Virgil, I want to congratulate you on finding the prettiest girl I've ever laid eyes on.”

“Thank you, Miss Emma,” said Virgil respectfully. He went to where Lisa was sitting and gave her hand a tight squeeze. Lisa, her glass half empty, was relaxed and rid of the nervousness that had nearly overcome her since her arrival in New Dominion and smiled back to tell him that she was all right.

“Clay, what's this your daddy's been telling me about you sending Clay-Boy off to get a college education?” asked Miss Emma.

“That's how it looks, Miss Emma,” said Clay. “His teacher up at the school seems to think they can get him a scholarship or something. We're waiten to hear from it.”

“Well, this certainly is a red-letter day for us, having all the Spencer boys and their daddy visit us on the same day. Etta, get everybody some of the recipe and let's celebrate this grand occasion.”

Darkness was falling across the hills when Olivia went for what seemed the thousandth time to the front door to see if there were any signs of Clay, his brothers and Lisa. Her sisters-in-law were all in the kitchen and the cousins, tired from playing and hungry from the long wait for their Sunday dinner, were fighting and grumbling down in the yard.

“See anything of them, Livy?” asked Eliza, who had come up and stood behind her.

“Not a thing, Miss Eliza,” said Olivia.

“They've got into whiskey somewhere,” said Eliza darkly. “You watch what I tell you. Oh, I could just shake that old man for runnen off with that girl in the first place.”

“I hate whiskey as much as the next one,” said Olivia, “but I'd almost rather it be that than to have 'em off dead in a ditch somewhere in an accident.”

It had been a frustrating day for Olivia. All day long she had wanted to speak to Virgil in private to find out if he might still consider taking Clay-Boy in with him and Lisa when it came time for Clay-Boy to go to the University of Richmond.

“I reckon we might as well go ahead and feed the children, Miss Eliza,” she said. “If the Spencer boys are in their whiskey they won't be back till it's all gone, Lord knows.” Raising her voice, she called, “Y'all come to supper,” and an eager and hungry army of little Spencer cousins roared toward the house.

After the children and their mothers had eaten, Vinnie, Rome's wife, packed all the guests into Rome's car and began delivering them to their homes. Olivia sent all her children except Clay-Boy to bed and finally the house fell silent except for the sounds made by Clay-Boy and his mother as they washed the dishes. Eliza was upstairs hearing the younger children's prayers when Olivia heard a car stop down at the front gate.

A woman's footsteps echoed on the front walk and onto the porch; as Olivia came to the long hall that led to the front door she saw that the woman was Lisa. The girl was weary and exasperated.

“Olivia,” she said. “They're all down in the car. They said they wanted to sit down there and sing a while.”

“It's the whiskey,” said Olivia. “They'll wear it off after a while.”

From down at the front gate the strains of “The Old Rugged Cross” drifted up to them across the darkening lawn:

Olivia smiled at the girl.

“Now you're getten some idea what it's like to be married to a Spencer.”

“You know,” said Lisa, “I've been in New Dominion all day and still haven't met the one person I wanted most to meet.”

“Who's that?”

“Clay-Boy,” she replied. “Virgil says he's coming to live with us this fall.”

The frustration and annoyance that had been building in Olivia all day long fell away. She took Lisa's hand to express her gratitude and then changed her mind and embraced her instead.

“Are you sure you can take two Spencers at the same time?” asked Olivia.

“It looks to me when you take one of them you take the whole family,” said Lisa. “I won't be able to help him with his homework because I only had high school myself, but I'm a good cook and I'll see he gets plenty to eat.”