Cold Sassy Tree (42 page)

I was standing on the side by the door to Miss Love's room, so I just got in there.

The wall between my head and hers was only one thin board, and I soon realized it might as well not be there. I heard her pull up the quilt, I heard her turn over, I heard her sigh.

I must of dropped right off to sleep. I didn't know when Grandpa came to bed. But I knew when he got up. The coil springs squeaked and waked me. I thought he just needed to use the pot, which he did, but then he moved around the bed. Every time a board creaked underfoot, he stopped and looked over at me.

It wasn't like Grandpa to notice or care if he was disturbing somebody. Plain as day, he didn't want me to wake up, so I didn't—not for him to know it. But I watched as he tiptoed over to the window where he'd laid his clothes on a chair and, standing in a long slanting rectangle of moonlight, put on his pants over his union suit and pulled up the suspenders.

Instead of knocking on Miss Love's door, he opened it, quiet as a burglar. I heard her gasp. He whispered, "Sh-h, it's me. I'm a-comin' in."

There wasn't any question mark in his voice, but she whispered, "Well, I ... well, all right," and I heard her get up. Grandpa closed the door, but it didn't any more shut me out than if I was a ghost. I doubt they were standing more than two feet from my head when he grabbed her. "Oh, Lord, Miss Love! You don't know how long I been a-waitin' to hold you like this." His voice was muffled, as if his face was buried in her neck. "Seems like all my life."

She laughed kind of nervous, and whispered in a teasing way, "Now, Mr. Blakeslee, that's no way to talk to a housekeeper."

"I ain't a-talkin' to no dang housekeeper, Miss Love. I'm a-talkin' to my wife."

Still teasing, and I guess holding him off, she whispered, "I won't be the wife of anybody who calls me Miss and I have to call him Mister. So Mister Blakeslee, go back to bed."

He whispered right back. "Ifn Miss and Mister is all thet's comin' betwixt us, I shore wisht you'd a-said so in New York City! Yore name's Love? Ain't no problem. My name's Rucker, pleased to meet you." And then before she could say pea-turkey, he grabbed her again. This time, if my ears heard right, she grabbed him, too.

After while she whispered, "Oh, dear God, what are we going to do?" I reckon Grandpa found her mouth before God could answer, because for the longest time the only sounds I heard were little moans and gasps and Grandpa's hard breathing. He sounded like it was all uphill in there.

Miss Love must of pulled away, to judge by her voice as she whispered, "Please, Mr. Blakeslee. If you knew—" And then she went to crying.

"Hesh now ... sh-h ... sh-h-h ... ain't nothin' to cry about, Miss Love, less'n you don't love me, which if you said it I wouldn't believe you. Love. Love. Oh, Love. Hit ain't hard a-tall to call you Love. Or to say you're beautiful or how sweet you smell. You're like Miss Mattie Lou's rose garden, Miss—uh, I mean Love." They kissed again. "You're shiverin'," he said. "I could warm you up."

"I'm not cold.... Don't, Mr. Blakeslee! You'll tear Miss Gussie's gown!"

His whispered voice was hoarse. "Good God in Heaven..."

I thought he was about to say hit's time to pray. But for what seemed like an hour or two, all I heard was them breathing and kissing.

I won't try to say what I was feeling all that time.

"What are you doing? Don't..." she said all of a sudden, alarmed.

"I'm jest a-loosenin' yore braid. I ain't never seen yore hair down, Miss—uh, I mean Love. I want to feel it. I want to feel it on my face."

"Please go back to bed, sir. The boy might hear us."

He groaned. "I ain't studyin' him. He's dead asleep, anyhow. Listen to him."

Like I was in cahoots with Grandpa, I snored softly. I couldn't stand the embarrassment if they knew I was awake. They were silent a minute, then she whispered, "There's so much you don't know...."

Smack. "Then say it, Love, but make haste. I been a-waitin' for you a million years. I cain't wait no longer!"

I was shocked, and she must of felt the same. "But ... but you ... but I only agreed to be your housekeeper!" Her whisper rose in pitch, an angry sound. "I will not be taken advantage of, Mr. Blakeslee! How dare you try to ... to use me like I'm a.... Why, I trusted you!"

"I love you, Miss Love! Cain't you see thet? And today I ... hit seemed like you loved me, too."

"What are you saying, Mr. Blakeslee?"

"You deaf? I'm sayin' I love you, dang it! I'm sayin' I want you to be my wife! I'm sayin' I been a-waitin' to hold you in my arms ever since the day we got married.... No, way longer than thet, Lord hep me. Miss Love—Love, I been a-waitin' for this minute ever since the day I laid eyes on you!"

It made me sick, hearing that.

"Please, Mr. Blakeslee, you don't know what you're saying." Her words were more softly spoken than whispered, and I could tell she had moved away from him, nearer the door. "I don't believe.... You never made one gesture, sir. Never said one word!"

"No, but ever time I looked at you, I thought it. God hep me, I been lovin' you and hatin' myself ever time I—"

"You never did anything wrong!" she protested, like she wanted to take up for him. Then she lowered her voice again. "I never once suspected. That's why I was so shocked when you asked me to marry you. I didn't think you'd even noticed me, Mr. Blakeslee."

"I was scairt to notice you. Scairt somebody would notice me noticin'. Scairt Miss Mattie Lou might, and I wouldn't a-hurt her—" I heard him sink heavily onto the cot, and he must of bent his head down, to judge by his voice. "Miss Mattie Lou knowed something was eatin' up my soul, Miss Love. She kept a-sayin', 'Mr. Blakeslee, tell me what's a-worryin' you so.' And when she took sick—"

"Sh-h, you're talking too loud, sir. Please don't wake up Will. Go on back to bed now and we'll talk when—"

"I got to talk now," he said, but minding her and dropping his voice to a whisper. "By time we git home I might a-lost my nerve. I used to beg God to take away my cravin' for you. When I'd git up off my knees, I'd feel better. But then the very next day I'd watch you workin' at yore table and ... I couldn't hardly stand it, you was so beautiful. Then Miss Mattie Lou took sick, and I got scairt the Lord might take her to punish me for my sin. I ain't never believed God was thet mean. But what if'n He was? I commenced beggin' for forgiveness. When she was so sick, I got the notion if I didn't go down to the store where I'd see you, I could git you out a-my system. Miss Mattie Lou was.... She married me when I warn't nothin', Miss Love. She give me all she had when her daddy died. And she mint her health havin' babies thet didn't live, tryin' to git me a son to carry on the name. She knowed how much—" His voice broke. "She would a-tried agin, but Doc said another baby'd kill her. So I made shore thet didn't happen. I loved Miss Mattie Lou very much. You unner-stand thet?"

I could hear tears in her voice as she whispered, "Yes. Yes, of course I do."

"She was part a-me. I could tell her anythang—cept bout you, a-course. It was jest like with Will Tweedy, and now you. I can cut the fool with anybody, but they ain't many folks I can really talk to.... Well, after what Doc said, I stayed off from her—"

"Mr. Blakeslee, it's not right to tell me all this."

"I got to tell somebody. You rather I tell Will Tweedy? Or Mary Willis or Loma? I'm sayin' I stayed off from her, and after while the fire went out. Seemed like she was jest my sister, my friend. Not my wife. It was like all the feelin's I ever felt—a man for a woman, I mean—they was jest dead. Then I went to the depot to git you when you come in on thet train from Baltimore, Miss Love. I took one look at you, so young and feisty, and hankered after you like a schoolboy."

"Hush, sir. Hush."

"You don't know what I been th'ew these two years, Miss Love. Lord, I wisht we didn't have to whisper. I'm a-gittin' hoarse."

"Go back to bed, Mr. Blakeslee. We'll talk later." It was like she was speaking to a child.

He paid no attention. "After you left off livin' at our house and went to the Crabtrees', Miss Love, I couldn't wait to git to the store ever mornin'. If'n I was sick, I went on anyways. I thought I'd die when a whole day went by and I didn't git to see you. Often as I dared to, I'd tell Miss Mattie Lou, 'Set a place for the milliner at Sunday dinner, hear. She's kind a-homesick.' Or, 'She don't git good cookin' at Miz Crabtree's. Not like yore'n.' You and me and her, we'd have sech a good time round thet pi-ana after dinner. Hit kind a-eased my guilty feelin's, seein' how fond a-you she was. But then, by George, you commenced keepin' comp'ny with thet fool Son Black! I couldn't hardly stand it."

"He didn't mean a thing to me. He was just—"

"How was I to know? And then ... then Miss Mattie Lou was a-dyin'. I set there by her in thet rockin' chair day after day, lovin' her and grievin', but in the back side a-my mind I was wonderin' if'n you might up and marry thet son-of-a-gun jest when it looked like—"

"Sh-h, don't say it, Mr. Blakeslee. Please, let's stop talking. The boy—"

I coughed, and coughed again, like in my sleep, and then snorted and turned over.

"Hit'd take a earthquake to wake him up t'night." There was a pause. "Yore skin ... hit's so soft, Love. See? Hit ain't hard a-tall to call you Love. Yore cheek, Love, it's like"—he laughed—"like a mule's nose.... Like velvet." She laughed, too. He kissed her gently. I know it was gently, because it didn't smack. "Love, when I set there with Miss Mattie Lou, I warn't jest beggin' God's forgiveness. I was prayin' she'd git well. But I was—"

"There's nothing wrong with that, Mr. Blakeslee. God wants us to ask for His healing hand on—"

"Let me finish. God don't want nobody to ast like I done. Gosh a'mighty, Miss Love, all the time I was prayin' Him to spare Miss Mattie Lou, like He was a dang Santy Claus, I was thinkin' thet if'n she died I could marry you!"

I swear I saw the ghost of Granny flit distraught around the room. I wanted to sic her on him, shout, "He ain't in here, Granny! He's in yonder with her! Go haint him!"

Soon as I thought it, I hoped she wouldn't. Back when she was alive and him lusting in his heart after another woman, it's a wonder God hadn't strung Grandpa up by his heels and split him down the middle. But I couldn't hate him now. And I hoped Granny up in Heaven didn't hate him, and I hoped Miss Love wouldn't. If a man's been horsewhipping himself for two years, it seemed to me like not even God would want to punish him anymore.

I couldn't hear everything they said that night, especially when they moved away from the door. I missed words and even sentences when occasionally I breathed deep or snored a little so they wouldn't guess I was awake. But I heard most of it.

After Grandpa's confession, Miss Love had tears in her voice. "You poor, dear man. I'm so sorry, so very sorry." She whispered it over and over, and then begged him to go back to bed.

But Grandpa said he warn't done talking.

"Miss Mattie Lou's last few days.... Well, the good Lord fine'ly set me free a'you, Miss Love. My mind and heart was all on her. I knowed she was go'n die, and all I wanted was for her to live. I kept thinkin' back over the years and knowed they was good years. I kept thinkin' how we used to talk in bed at night, how I was go'n miss thet ... how I aw-ready missed it." He took a long breath. "But Miss Love, all sech didn't last past the funeral! After I wrote down her dyin' in the Bible, I turned around and seen you standin' there watchin' me, and from then on—"

"Oh, Mr. Blakeslee! As God is my witness, I never guessed it. Never encouraged—"

"I know thet. I jest wish you had a-encouraged me. Then I could a-risked waitin' a proper time to start courtin' you. As it was, I was twixt the rock and the hard place, afeared somebody else would git you in the meantime. Thet fool Son Black, for instance."

"I would never have married him."

"Well, I didn't know if you would or you wouldn't. On the other hand, if'n I proposed right off, you'd think I was a dirty old man or thet Miss Mattie Lou hadn't meant nothin' to me. You wouldn't have no respect for me." He sighed, like he was lost in thought. Finally he said, "I commenced goin' by the cemetery ever night after I left the store, Miss Love."

"I know. I heard."

He laughed, soft and kind of rueful. "Hit warn't with me like with pore Miss Ernestine Tiplady. You never knowed her. Miss Ernestine would go to the cemetery ever evenin' to see old Mutt Thet's what she called her husband. She'd tell him how she was feelin' and all, and any news she'd heard, and when she left she'd blow him a kiss and say, 'G'night, Mutt.' Folks seen her do it. Then after while Miss Ernestine got to sayin' g'night to everbody else in the graveyard, callin'm all by name. Pore thang fine'ly commenced passin' the time a-day with'm. Couldn't git home to fix supper for talkin' to dead folks."

He paused. "What I'm sayin', I didn't go to the cemetery to talk to Miss Mattie Lou. But seemed like bein' there calmed me down some." He coughed. "Gosh a'mighty, Miss Love, it's gittin' cold. And my throat's wore out from this here whisperin'. Will Tweedy's asleep. And if'n he ain't.... Well, I ain't studyin' Will Tweedy right now."

At the cemetery, he said, he did wonder sometimes what Miss Mattie Lou would tell him to do if she could talk. "Late one night I was so tired, Miss Love, I jest laid down on the cool fresh dirt. Right on her grave. Hit felt like when we used to lay in bed together talkin'. Uh, I reckon you think I was off in the head."

"No. No, I understand."

"Well, anyhow, it come to me something Miss Mattie Lou said long time ago, back when Mary Willis was on the way. She said, 'Mr. Blakeslee, if God takes me in childbed—' I remember tryin' to hesh her up, but she had it on her mind. She said, 'If'n I pass, I hope I done made livin' with a woman so sweet thet.... Well, find you another wife and I'll take it as a compli-ment.'"

Miss Love started to speak, but he went on, talking low. "Thet shore made it easier to think on marryin' you, Miss Love. It was like she'd give me her blessin'. And whilst I was still a-layin' over her in the dark night, I remembered something else she said one time: 'If'n the Lord calls me first, Mr. Blakeslee, don't be too stingy to hire you a colored woman. I cain't rest easy Up There if you down here wearin' dirty clothes and nobody to see after you.' Thet's what give me the idea to ast you to be my housekeeper."