Unto These Hills (12 page)

Still, his gaze did not meet mine; rather it stared out the window, simmering with some mystical, goaded stimulus.

“I didn’t mean it’s
wrong,”
Doretha’s soft clarification drifted past me. I was too focused on Daniel to even register it.

“Daniel?” I persisted, needing to
know.

Slowly, his head turned, until his gaze locked with mine. My heart sank right to my toes. Turquoise glittered like sunlight flung over the ocean. And I knew he didn’t really see
me.
He saw ghosts from his childhood — phantoms of
that kind
of woman.

And even as I railed inwardly at the unfairness of it all, I understood Daniel.

I sucked in my breath, held it, and let it out on a tired gust. “Never mind.” I arose and strode out the front door, slamming it behind me, ignoring Doretha’s concerned “Sunny? Honey, I didn’t mean…” I set off down the street like my skirt tail was on fire, with no idea where I’d go.

Aunt Tina’s anger permeated my house, rose from it like wavy sheets of heat.
Was
it my house now? “
Don’t ever come back!”
Suddenly, it did not seem so. I started to detour to Emaline’s, but her soon-to-be-stepmother, Doris, flashed before me and kept my feet moving in another direction. Not that I didn’t like Doris; it was simply that it was no longer Renie’s house. Emaline still loved me and, though Doris liked me, she and I did not have the same history. No. I couldn’t impose on them.

All things change.
Daniel’s words came back to me and I realized how true they were.

Next thing I knew, I was knocking on the pastor’s door. Then I was in Lula’s plump arms. “There, there, Sunny. Sit down and tell me all about it.”

It all came pouring out. “So, I don’t have a home anymore,” I concluded on a teary, matter-of-fact note, feeling quite embarrassed and naked before her. “I suppose I could rent a hotel room even though it would eat into my savings.”

“Or you could stay here. With us,” said Lula in her ultra-understated way.

“Oh, I couldn’t do that. You already have a house full, anyway,” I sputtered, by now shamed to have dumped on her.

“Actually,” droned Lula, “Rachel has a whole room to herself. She’d be tickled to share it with you. Wouldn’t you, honey-bunch?”

Rachel dashed across the room and threw herself at me, startling me. “Pleath, pleath,
pleathhh,
Thunny?” she pled like a perishing kitten to a milkman, lisping sweetly through slightly protruding teeth, a result of continued thumb-sucking. “You can thleep with
me, dontcha know?”
Her chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with excitement and I burst into laughter and hugged her hugely, overwhelmed that this family opened their arms to me while Aunt Tina callously threw me out.

“Well, heck,” I gazed into the sweet little face, “I can’t turn that down, now, can I?”

~~~~~

“Please, Sunny,” Sheila wrung her hands as I stuffed clothes into my battered old suitcase. “Please don’t leave.”

I paused in my packing and looked at her, hurting for her, for me, for everything. “I don’t want to, Sheila, but I can’t abide the prejudice and hatred here. Plus, I can’t stay here when I’m not wanted.”

“But-but Timmy and I want you,” her voice shimmied up to shrill and I stopped to hug her long and hard.

“I know you do, honey.” I turned her loose and recommenced folding and stacking underclothes in the large paper grocery bag I’d switched to after filling the suitcase.

“
Please,
Sunny,” Sheila wailed. “Stay.” Tears trailed down cheeks.

I turned my face away, hardening my heart. “I
can’t
Sheila. I — can’t. You just don’t understand.”

I folded down the bag’s opening and moved to the dresser for my comb and brush, almost missing Sheila’s exiting, tearful reply, “Neither do you.”

~~~~~

The Acklins were more permissive than Nana with Daniel and me. “Lord have mercy,” Lula droned, “you’re getting’
married
in a few weeks. If we’re ever gonna trust you it’ll be now.” So, they let us date any time we wanted to.

Only thing was, we both worked like tomorrow held another Depression, putting away every penny we could spare into our little bank account, so there was little time to date. But it was nice knowing we could if we wanted to.

It was kinda difficult listening to Daniel extol Mr. Melton’s virtues. Made me feel like gagging, remembering his age-spotted old hands groping all over me. But he was, after all, Daniel’s boss. And Emaline’s grandpa.

Lula began inviting Daniel over for dinner several times a week because Wayne liked to talk to him. “He’s a good fellow,” said Wayne, “interesting.”

Daniel was. And closed-mouth that he was, he couldn’t resist opening up when Wayne gently probed beneath the tough veneer. Soon, the pastor knew all about Daniel’s troubled childhood and his mother’s abandonment. And he astutely picked up on Daniel’s fury.

One night, as we sat around talking after the children were in bed, he said, “Daniel,don’t you think its about time to settle all this and get on with your life?”

I felt Daniel stiffen on the sofa beside me as his hand painfully squeezed mine. “What do you mean?”

“Go to your mama and resolve all this anger and resentment.”

“I don’t know where she is,” came his tight, gruff reply.

“Then find her. Until you do, you’ll always be her prisoner.”

Wayne had said the right words. Daniel didn’t like the idea of being imprisoned by Mona.

Daniel took a deep, deciding breath and blew it out. “Me ‘n Sunny’s getting married in six weeks. How would I start searching? And when?”

Wayne grinned and reached to shake Daniel’s hand. “How about tomorrow?”

~~~~~

Daniel left two days later after kissing me dizzy, leaving me light-headed and weak-kneed as he took off in the car he’d bought from Walter when his foster-brother got a new one. Actually, Walter had all but given it to Daniel. Said the trade-in was so low on it he’d rather Daniel have it. Anyway, with Daniel in a good car, I wouldn’t worry as much.

Mr. Melton gave Daniel an open-ended leave-of-absence after Daniel explained the situation to him. While Daniel celebrated his boss’s goodness, I was thinking how the old man’s generosity spawned from guilt over how he’d violated me.

Walter, Berthie, Doretha, and I waved him off from the Stone’s curb. Tom was nowhere to be seen. “Okay, little brother, you take care o’yourself, now, y’hear?” Doretha kissed him on the cheek and gave him a snuggly, sisterly hug.

“Hey!” Walter howled, palms up in supplication. “How ‘bout
me
? I’m your brother, too.”

Without missing a beat, Doretha said, “you don’t count.” I broke into laughter at her standard, flat rebuff.

Berthie gave Daniel a warm hug and said, “Now, where is it you’re a’goin’?”

Daniel had already told her three times in the past hour but he patiently explained it to her again, his eyes looking misted. She shook her head and smiled sweetly, clearly still not understanding.

Not one to entertain solemnity, Walter grabbed Daniel for a rowdy bear hug, nearly picking him up off the sidewalk before releasing him. Poking his finger into Daniel’s chest, he said gravely, “Take care o’ that car now. Y’hear?”

Daniel burst into laughter and playfully poked him in the ribs, turning it into a mock skirmish that ended with another rocking bear hug. I marveled that such closeness had developed between the two. But Walter had been good to Daniel; better, said Daniel, than any other male in his life. I think that was the crux of it — Daniel hadn’t had any other males in his life in recent years, save ol’ man Taylor.

My turn. When Daniel’s arms closed around me, I couldn’t help it, tears puddled in my eyes. Then ran over as my face burrowed into the hollow of his neck. “I’m gonna miss you,” I cried, feeling as cowardly as I’d ever felt in my life.

Daniel’s cheek sought and found mine, then his lips claimed mine. Ignoring Walter and Doretha, who awkwardly shuffled nearby, we said our somber good-byes with more kisses and hungry, searching gazes that said
only a few short weeks and we’ll be married and this parting will be just a memory.

Had I had just an inkling of what lay ahead, I’d’ve held onto him and would’ve never, ever,
ever
let go.

Chapter Seven

“It so
purdy!”
exulted Daisy who, on her knees, turned up and pinned my wedding dress hem. “Not too fancy — jus’ right, s’what I say.”

“Anything fancier and I couldn’t have managed it.” Which was true. Taking into consideration my limited sewing experience, I’d chosen a simple, long, princess-waist dress, with three-quarter lace-trimmed sleeves, and scooped neckline.

“There,” said Daisy importantly, “s’done. Jus’ look at you.”

I gazed in the long mirror we’d moved from storage and attached to the wall. I looked like — well, I looked like a swan. I didn’t look emaciated anymore. Somewhere along the way, my skinny frame had filled out. Not like Francine’s. Or Sheila’s. But with enough curves to shape my clothes nicely.

“Lula said I could borrow her wedding veil,” I said, relieved at the pastor’s wife’s generosity. “So I don’t have to spend any more money, other than on food, for the reception.”

“I be helpin’ on that, now missy,” Daisy climbed stiffly to her feet, chin stuck out. “Don’ worry none ‘bout that. Me’n Trixie and the others gon’ see you got the nicest spread ever was.”

I threw my arms around her neck and squeezed. “Ouch!” she shrieked. I sprang loose, wide-eyed. She reached to my bosom and gingerly extracted the culprit, a straight pin. We burst into laughter.

“Ahh, Daisy,” I threw back my head and twirled in my lovely gown, feeling once again as light and exuberant as I had before Mama left. “I’m so
happy!”

“S’a good thing,” Daisy chortled. “Now, let’s go see to getting supper finished ‘fore the crowd comes in.”

And a crowd it was. Seemed every stag male on the hill showed up.

“Baseball practice,” Walter informed us as he joined a near-full table of men including sleaze-ball Buck Edmonds, whose only claim to fame was the fact that he could pitch a mean ball, Harly Kale, whose leering gaze I avoided, Clarence Bond (Ruth’s uncle), Jack Melton, Emaline’s dad, and his father, Mr. Melton. If the latter expected gratitude to thaw my frostiness toward him, he was disappointed.

Fact was, with the exception of Jack Melton and Walter, I was barely cordial to the lot of them.

Which did little to deter the sly leers. I grew more disgusted as ordering began.

“Hey, Sunny.” Buck motioned to me as the other men joked about the evening’s practice. I couldn’t
not
acknowledge a diner so I moved to take his order. “What’s the best thing on the menu? The most
tasty?”
he said quietly, licking his lips salaciously.

I stared over his head and said flatly, “The pinto beans and cornbread.”

“Nono, Sunny,” he stage-whispered, “I gotta have some juicy meat.”

I gasped and glared at him. He grinned devilishly, knowing the commotion around us swallowed up the exchange. I shot Walter a helpless look but he was engaged in a heated exchange with Jack about game strategy. I rolled my eyes and addressed Buck again.

“Look. I don’t care what you order. Just order.”

“Now that’s no way to talk to a good ol’ boy,” chimed Harly, who was seated to my other side. I jerked away from his touch, a supposedly accidental brush of fingers over my fanny. I slapped his hand as hard as I could, drawing chuckles from both him and Buck.

“Feisty.” Harly’s eyes glittered as they surveyed me. I swung my gaze across the table to Jack, whose interchange with Walter consumed him. Next to him, Old Mr. Melton’s perusal of me, though hooded, was no less lascivious than Harly and Buck’s.

I felt my heart turn cold. In that moment I hated the lot of them. They would not turn me into my mother. I opened my mouth to rail when a commotion in the foyer seized my attention.

Doretha rushed into the dining room. “Walter, your daddy’s took sick. He’s bad — him and Mama are on their way to Spartanburg General Hospital. Preacher Acklin’s driving ‘em.”

Walter was on his feet and out the door in a flash. Despite his displeasure over his father’s treatment of Daniel, he and old Tom seemed close. It was then that I noticed Doretha was trembling like a thin shrub in a gale.

I rushed to her and guided her to the lobby sofa. Daisy, hearing the commotion, now took the other men’s orders. Thank God. I settled myself next to Doretha, who remained dry-eyed, despite the nerve spasms that shook her.

“What is it?” I asked softly, knowing this wasn’t merely concern for ol’ Tom, as she called him. No, something else bothered her. “Are you afraid?”

She looked me in the eye and I saw a deep torment in the hazel depths. “Yeh, Sunny,” she said so softly I barely heard her. “I am.”

“Why?” I asked, alarm spreading through me like wildfire. Why was she so terrified? “Tell, me, Doretha,” I said, taking her cold, thin hand and squeezing it.

“I —” Her eyes seemed to unfocus on me and I saw them go somewhere else.

“Doretha? Are you afraid of being alone?”

She blinked and came back. “Yeh — that’s it. Would you do me a favor?” she asked timidly.

“Of course.”

“Would you come sleep at my house tonight?”

“Done.” I squeezed her icy fingers one final time and went to tell Daisy.

“I’m going to stay with her tonight,” I said over Daisy’s shoulder as she delivered Buck’s platter of fried chicken, pinto beans, and cornbread. “She’s upset.”

“’Course she is,” Daisy said, grabbing the tea pitcher and refilling Harly’s empty glass. “You’ll take good care o’her, I know. Ya’ll lock ‘em doors, now, y’hear?”

“Yeh,” Harly chimed in, “don’ want no boogers getting y’all.” He and Buck laughed uproariously at the quip, disgusting me as I left the dining room.

“Hey!” Jack Melton called to me. I paused, and turned. “Anything we can do?”

I glimpsed his father’s surreptitious leer. “No, thanks. We’re okay.” I fled.

Doretha and I walked to the preacher’s house to tell Lula I’d not be sleeping there tonight, sending Rachel into a tailspin of disappointment. After a few thumb-sized tears, she sent me off, mollified when I promised her a trip to the movies, with a lisped “I’m gonna mith you, Thunny.”

“Me, too, sweety-pie.” I waved from the sidewalk and blew her a kiss.

“We’ll be praying for him,” Lula called to Doretha from the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. I smelled the wonderful fried chicken and thought how Aunt Tina had bought extras like bacon and eggs for Alvin to devour while the rest of us ate our oatmeal. Thank God there’d been no such partiality at the pastor’s house.

“Thank you,” Doretha said quietly, more from politeness, I think, than conviction. I’d never known Doretha to go to church. Yet, she was the lovingest creature on God’s earth. She seemed to occupy this little bubble of impenetrable space that kept her timeless and childlike. She seemed incapable of judgment. Yet her wisdom and perception, at times, astounded me.

The Stone house was silent when we entered. Doretha and I sat in the kitchen and drank hot chocolate for awhile and chatted. She wanted to know all about Francine’s tuberculosis recuperation. I told her Francine had been declared clean and was revved up almost to her former pre-TB state.

“She won’t be the same,” said wise little Doretha. “Can’t nobody go through somethin’ like that and not change some.”

“Yeh. You’re right.” I laughed. “I hope her change continues in the ‘better’ direction.” Doretha, I noticed, seemed quite somber and preoccupied. I guessed it was because of ol’ Tom’s sudden illness. Though it seemed strange, given her downright aloofness with him.

But then, Doretha didn’t react to life like most folks. Many times she loved when she should hate. If she hated, she didn’t show it. Her heart was one of the most tender I’d ever encountered, at least with me. Walter alone brought out her truculence, one I attributed to the mysterious sibling pecking order. More of a comic-relief thing.

When we started to bed, Doretha suggested I occupy her downstairs room. “I don’t sleep long at a time,” she explained. “ I’ll go upstairs to Mama’s room. That way, when I get restless, I won’t keep you awake.” She checked the doors to make sure they were locked and just as she turned to walk away, a soft rap on the door made her jump.

Cautiously, she put her ear to the door. “Who is it?”

“Preacher Acklin,” came Cousin Wayne’s familiar voice. Doretha opened the door and he stayed on the other side of the screen. “I won’t come in. It’s late.” He paused and glanced around at the corner of the house, frowning, listening. “Thought I saw somebody —” He shrugged. “ I just wanted to let you know that when I left the hospital a couple of hours ago, Tom was sleeping. It’s his heart acting up, according to his doctor. Tomorrow’s tests will tell if it’s a heart attack or just a warning.”

“Thank you, Preacher Acklin,” said Doretha, sounding weary. She hugged me soundly and whispered, “I love you, Sunny,” before turning to vanish up the stairs. I stared after her, surprised by the fervency of her words and wondering again at her nervousness. I yawned and attributed it to her being Doretha.

I turned out the lamp.

~~~~~

The bedroom was pitch dark as I snuggled up to the soft mattress and nestled my cheek into a downy pillow. I tucked the sheet up around my neck and inhaled its fresh outdoors/Rinso fragrance, exhausted but happy.
Seven weeks from now, I’ll be a bride
. Excitement and anticipation threaded through me like a warm silken cord, plunging me into a sweet, warm state of desire. It was a good,
right
sensation, one that I now felt entitled to.

I smiled into the darkness and stretched luxuriously, sensually, with an overwhelming urge to purr
. I’m glad we waited. Our wedding night will be so special.
A long contented sigh floated past my lips and my eyes drifted shut
.

Soon, waves of slumber set me adrift on a sea
that carries me into the arms of my betrothed, whose wonderful hands do magic things…fingers and lips caress and tantalize until I’m ready to swoon with pleasure. Then — pain.

Swoosh.
My eyeslids slit
…a twilight image looms in inky darkness, a faceless shadow above me. Still partly immersed in a world of enchantment and mystery, I wonder when did he come to my bed?

A joyful “Daniel!” spills from me and everything grows still for a long moment. Confused, I blink into the night, increasingly aware of heavy weight anchoring me to the bed.

The feel, the scent of him is not right. And suddenly, I grasp that in this twilight world, all is not wonderful — terrible things happen
. My eyes pop open
.
Realization rocks me. I’m not in my room. It’s not him….
Ohgodohgodohgod! It’s not him!

I sucked in a startled breath and the scream, bypassing my brain and sliding through my throat, was snuffed by something thick and flaccid and fabric thrust against my face. I panicked and tried to kick but strong, vise-like thighs pinned my own captive. I thrashed my head about to dislodge the mass from my face that threatened to smother the life from me, only to have it pressed more firmly in place.

Pure survival instinct kicked in. As I tried to buck the Velcro monster from me I painfully swiveled my head to the side until my nose and mouth hit an air pocket and I gulped in oxygen like a dying fish.

The searing, invasive member began to move again, revving up scalding pain that drew my mouth into a rictus of agony. Somehow, a scream exploded, a sound instantly absorbed by the blasted thing plastered to my face and I began to cry and moan, vulnerable as a mangled butterfly. Helplessness, a pit bull’s fangs, seized me and completed the mutilation, turning me numb and icy.

Am I dead
? No, I decided, because the torture continued for long, endless moments until the beast stiffened, shuddered for an eternity, then fell limp and even in my innocence, I knew.
The creep is spilling his seed in me. Noooooooooooo
!

Once more, I futilely resisted.
Too late, toolatetoolate
. Life drained from me and with it everything I’d fought so hard to keep.

I was barely aware of his sudden departure, this vicious lowlife who’d invaded, impaled, and violated me. Mild air washed over my limp body, one that could belong to another for all I felt. I hardly heard footsteps rapidly cross the floor, then a muted
click
.
Is that noise from a gun?
I knew I should be terrified but discovered I didn’t care; would, in fact welcome a bullet through my brain. Nothing mattered anymore.

Unable to move, I was already wasteland, as good as dead. Footsteps rapidly paced to the open window.
Whoosh…plunk
, bulk hit the ground…swift footsteps retreated in a rustle of foliage. I peeled the thing from my face, now sodden with sweat and tears, and gulped in more air, peering at the thing that nearly killed me.

A pillow, a blasted pillow that minutes earlier had smelled clean and innocent. Like me.

No longer, no longer nolongernolonger
wailed a dissonant dirge. I sunk deeper inside myself, pulling in the walls of my being, wrapping myself like a cocoon, wanting never to depart from it.

Wildflower-flavored air fluttered the curtains in the wake of the dark silhouette’s nocturnal departure. Silence roared about me and the thick, slimy presence of evil lingered, goading me…
whore, whore, whore.

And I ask, Where were you, God, when I needed you?

~~~~~

I heard faraway screams that went on and on and on until the room exploded with light and I saw Doretha, a pale gray specter, floating above me, gripping my shoulders.

“Sunny!” She gave me a few gentle shakes and my mouth closed. Only when silence fell did I realize it was me doing all the screaming
.
I peered blearily about me, further stunned, because I’d thought I was home.

Doretha’s room.
Disoriented, I reached down to feel the trickling wetness between my legs. It was sticky and hot.
Blood.

“What, Sunny?” Doretha asked gently. Her voice quavered. She looked strange.

I gulped in air as spasms shook my body and shock’s icy fingers tightened their grip. “He — he left through that window, I think,” I whispered raggedly as my teeth began to clatter, pointing a violently trembling finger. Cool night air hit me as the white curtains rustled softly, languidly.