Harlan County Horrors (2 page)

Pris took a deep, shaky breath, tasting the saltiness of her
own tears. She gazed up at the moon’s brilliant face.

“
Bobby Lee, come back to me. Come back to me,
please.”

She
repeated the phrases several times until her grandma told her she
could stop. Wispy grey clouds had drifted across the
moon.

“
There now, child. It’s done.”

Granny Maeve spoke the truth. Bobby Lee and his parents moved
back to Russell Fork right before Christmas, giving Priscilla the
best present she had ever received.

During their sophomore year in high school, Bobby Lee fell for
Kara Chambers. Pris wasn’t surprised—Kara was half-Korean and
seemed exotic compared to all the other girls they knew. Her family
had made a lot of money during the coal boom of ‘74. Now they owned
the flower shop in town, and they also ran a catering business out
of their grocery store.

Everybody talked about how perfect Kara and Bobby Lee were for
each other and what a striking couple they made with their dark
good looks. It wounded Pris to see them together, but she felt
certain that one day Bobby Lee would realize Kara wasn’t right for
him and that his best friend was also his true soul
mate.

Even though Granny Maeve could have shown her how to speed up
such an epiphany, Pris didn’t want to win Bobby Lee’s heart by
using magic. No, his love for her had to be real or it would never
last.

It
was better to remain hopeful and suffer the wait.

In
the meantime, Pris learned all she could from her grandmother about
the power of moonlight. She dated a few boys who bored her and a
few who didn’t. She talked to Bobby Lee whenever he made time for
her. She never complained about the times he wouldn’t.

And
when Kara dumped Bobby Lee right before graduation, Pris was there
to pick up all the fragile little pieces of his heart. In June—on
the summer solstice—she took him for a drive up to the top of Black
Mountain, the highest peak in Kentucky. Pris made love to Bobby Lee
on a rough blanket under the Rose Moon. He was her
first.

She
opened his eyes. He opened his heart.

Pris felt the power of their love and knew it was
real.

“
Bobby Lee, will you marry me?”

Mr.
and Mrs. Blackburn insisted they wait two years. Priscilla knew it
wasn’t because they didn’t approve of her. People thought Pris was
attractive because of the confidence she showed, and everybody
thought she had a sensible way about her.

“
Mark my words, now, darlin’,” Granny Maeve had told her. “A
passionate love can make the sanest person act plumb crazy.” The
wedding was still a year off when the old woman passed away in her
sleep.

Priscilla’s mother had agreed with the Blackburns from the
start. “You two have all the time in the world. First thing you
need to do is get to work and save some money.”

Despite the good pay, Bobby Lee was afraid to become a coal
miner like his father, so he went to work at his uncle’s auto
repair shop on the south end of town. Mr. Blackburn liked to tease
his son about being claustrophobic, but Pris knew that a recurring
nightmare had kept Bobby Lee from following in his daddy’s
footsteps. He’d started having the dream when he was fifteen and it
was always the same—he found himself falling into a dark hole, deep
into the earth where no one could hear him scream. The walls of his
prison would begin to collapse and he would suffocate.

Pris refused to ridicule Bobby Lee for his fears. He worked
hard to be a decent mechanic, and in six months he was able to rent
the apartment over his uncle’s garage.

They fell into a comfortable routine, waiting for their
wedding day to arrive. Priscilla’s mother owned a diner called
Rolly’s, in honor of Pris’ late father. Pris waited tables there
and raised an herb and vegetable garden for produce to sell on the
side. In the spring and summer she sold berries and mountain
wildflowers—daisies were her favorite.

During the work week, Bobby Lee would spend his lunch hour
with Pris. She’d bring him sandwiches from the restaurant and they
would talk about the future and how many children they would have
and how one day Bobby Lee might own his own repair shop.

Priscilla’s desire for Bobby Lee only grew stronger as the
months wore on. Despite numerous lectures from his devoutly
religious parents, they spent time alone together at his apartment.
But Pris preferred to make love on her mountain in the special
places she’d discovered while digging ginseng and gathering
mushrooms and wildflowers.

Once the weather turned warm, she would take Bobby Lee up
there late at night whenever the moon made an appearance. They
would lie together on a well-worn patchwork quilt in a hidden
meadow surrounded by daisies. Bobby Lee would play with her
waist-length hair and weave flowers through the unruly
tresses.

Then it would be Pris’ turn to play. She’d caress every
beautiful inch of him, massaging his tense, sore muscles with
scented oils, relishing the way his body responded to her touch,
his moans of pleasure sending delicious tingles down her spine. She
would wait until her own physical needs overwhelmed her senses
before allowing their lust to mix with the moonlight.

Deep in that world of forgetting, Pris would nearly sacrifice
her soul becoming one with Bobby Lee. She’d wallow in his essence
until they were both spent and shuddering.

Afterward, she would lie on top of him gasping, clutching
handfuls of his damp chest hair—afraid that if she let go, she’d
float off the mountain, a victim of euphoria. Bobby Lee would talk
softly then, teasing her, knowing she wouldn’t be able to respond
for several minutes
.

“
Priscilla, Princess of Moonlight and Magic, I wonder if
you’re fertile enough to bear me a dozen young’uns in eight
years.”

On
the last Saturday in March, Pris’ mountain swallowed Bobby Lee
Blackburn whole. He’d been helping Priscilla search for mushrooms
that afternoon near an abandoned coal mine. A collapsing tunnel
system had resulted in what the old-timers called a “mountain
break”—a rift in the earth above, this one well-hidden by foliage.
The hole Bobby Lee had fallen into was eight feet across and
hundreds of feet deep. After three days of risky recovery efforts,
rescue workers from a local mining company gave up and went
home.

The
young man’s sudden death shocked all of Russell Fork into a
grieving silence. The tragedy was whispered about, though no
one—not even the Blackburn family—outwardly blamed Priscilla for
the incident.

Pris wanted to lock herself away from the town’s sympathetic
outpouring, but her mother forced her to attend the
funeral.

Bobby Lee’s parents chose to have the service on the mountain,
close to his final resting place. Volunteers cleared the area of
brush and vegetation and set up tents and chairs for the mourners.
Bobby Lee’s sweet young cousin tearfully sang a few hymns in the
sunshine and then a Baptist preacher prayed about the loss that was
God’s will. A touching eulogy followed, given by Bobby Lee’s
uncle.

Kara Chambers cried. Priscilla couldn’t shed one
tear.

No,
it wasn’t until after the funeral reception that she gave in to an
onslaught of raw emotions. She sobbed all night, constantly
reliving the conversation she’d had with Kara at the Blackburns’
house.

Pris had been hiding in a corner of the living room, in view
of the buffet. She had no interest in food. The dining room was
crammed with hungry, black-clad mourners who would murmur the usual
platitudes whenever they bumped into a member of Bobby Lee’s
family.

Apparently, Kara didn’t feel like eating either. She
approached Priscilla timidly, as if she was afraid Pris might bolt
out of her chair and run away.

“
What do you want, Kara?”

Bobby Lee’s ex-girlfriend let out a tiny sigh. She looked even
prettier when she was sad. “I hate funerals. I usually don’t know
what to say.”

“
It would be better if people said nothing at all.”

“
Oh. Right.” Kara started to walk away, and then paused. When
she turned around again, Pris could see tears glistening on her
long eyelashes.

“
I
was so stupid to break up with Bobby Lee. I only hope you realize
how much he truly loved you, Pris.”

Priscilla gave her a frigid stare. “I don’t think you’ll ever
understand how we felt about each other.”

“
I
didn’t, but I do now.” Kara dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “Look,
I’m not telling you this to be mean, but the truth is I thought
Bobby Lee got engaged just to make me jealous. He came to see me at
The Blossom Shop that morning before he died, and I wanted to
believe he was having second thoughts. I…I tried to kiss him, but
he stopped me. He was there to place a special order for your
wedding night—dozens of daisies for your hotel room down in
Bristol.”

Pris swallowed hard, suddenly feeling light-headed.
Stop it, Kara. Stop
talking and let me go home.

“
People used to think Bobby Lee was crazy about me, but he
loved you more, Pris. I could see it in his eyes when he was
talking about you, and I just thought you’d want to
know.”

On
Saturday, the sixteenth of April, Priscilla dragged herself out of
bed and opened the windows in her room. She inhaled the fresh warm
air, her vision blurred by tears instead of sunlight.

“
It’s so beautiful, Bobby Lee. No rain on our wedding
day.”

She
wished there was a terrible storm raging outside. She wished it
would destroy Kara’s big brick house and her family’s businesses
and all of Russell Fork.

Pris backed away from the window and eyed the prescription
bottle on her nightstand. Just a few of those pills would knock her
out for several hours, and when she finally woke up again, this
painful day would be over.

But will tomorrow be any better?

Priscilla had been sleeping in Bobby Lee’s favorite Wildcats
T-shirt. It smelled faintly of his spicy aftershave and she didn’t
want to change out of it. She had no appetite anyway, so there was
no reason to go downstairs. Her mother would be working at the
restaurant most of the day.

If
only she could talk to Granny Maeve.

Pris swallowed a couple of the little white pills and then
walked across the hall into her grandmother’s cool, dark bedroom.
She crawled over into the middle of the feather mattress and buried
herself under the heavy quilt. When she drifted off, she dreamed
about the past.

Priscilla was thirteen again, sitting in the rocker in her
granny’s bedroom, turning the crinkly, delicate pages of a brown
leather journal and trying to read the faded passages. The
enthralling book of spells and rituals had first belonged to
Millicent—Granny Maeve’s own grandmother.

Near the middle of the journal, Pris came across a section
called The Waking of The Dead. It was a ritual for calling back the
spirits of those who had passed on to the other side. Just as she
began reading the steps necessary to carry out the ceremony, Granny
Maeve walked into the room.

“
No, child.” The old woman rushed over and snatched the
journal out of Priscilla’s hands. “You ain’t old enough yet to
learn these spells.” Her expression softened when she saw the hurt
look on Pris’ face. “But don’t you worry none—it won’t be too long
before this book is yours.”

Priscilla woke up from the dream.
It’s mine now.

She
shook off her grogginess and hurried downstairs to make a pot of
coffee. Late afternoon sunshine poured into the kitchen.

What had happened to the journal? Granny Maeve had kept it in
her nightstand until she’d caught Pris reading it, and then it had
been moved.

Priscilla started her search in the cellar, looking through a
cedar chest filled with musty-smelling clothes and a bunch of old
storage bins that overflowed with greeting cards, letters and
photographs. No sign of the diary.

Then she remembered the bookcase in the attic.

She
found it on the bottom shelf, behind a locked panel. Pris was too
impatient to search for the key. She broke the thin pane of glass
with a cast-iron doorstop.

Her
mother was waiting for her in the second floor hallway at the top
of the main staircase. Dorie stared for a long moment at the
leather journal Pris had clutched to her chest, and then she looked
up at her daughter with tired, sad eyes.

“
My little girl,” she whispered. “My poor baby
girl.”

“
Stop it.” Pris’ voice shook with a sudden anger. “You don’t
understand because you never believed.”

“
I
told your granny not to fill your head with that nonsense,” her
mother said, gesturing at the book. “Only time can take your pain
away, Prissy. Don’t you think I missed your daddy after he died?
Don’t you think I’d have done anything to bring him back if such a
thing was possible?”

“
You don’t have the gift. Granny Maeve told me so.”

Dorie moved closer and took Pris’ face in her hands. “Honey,
Bobby Lee is gone and he ain’t ever coming back. One day you’ll
have to accept that.”