Valley So Low (7 page)

Her hand brushed his cheek and caressed it with a soft touch. “I figured you needed the sleep.”

“I’ll catch it up tonight,” he said. “I’ll go say howdy to the gravediggers, then fetch the milk, eggs too if you want.”

His help made her work easier. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll start cookin’.”

By the old clock on the shelf it wasn’t yet four in the morning, and Maude had a long way to go before she could stop.  But by nine, she had a line of pies—two apple, one raisin, one pumpkin—cooling on the wide windowsill above the sink.  The back straps, what some might call pork loin, filled the house with a delicious aroma as they roasted.  She’d seasoned both with onion, sage, a little salt, black pepper, and thyme.  A big pot of peeled and quartered potatoes sat on the stove ready to be boiled and then mashed.  Another pan of corn simmered with butter.  A platter of fresh-baked biscuits sat on the warming oven of the stove.  Four loaves of bread rose and were ready for the oven.  Maude had beans cooking too, seasoned with last fall’s ham hocks.  She’d made an apple cake too, and several big pans of cornbread.  Before anyone ate, she’d also fix gravy.  She should have plenty for everyone to eat.

With nothing left to do but mash the ‘taters and stir up the gravy, Maude headed upstairs to change into her good clothing.  First, she rounded up George, washed him despite his vocal protests, and dressed him in one of the long dresses small children, even boys, wore until they turned five or so. Maude shook her head.  Her baby would grow up sooner than she wanted. Harry put on his best pair of overalls, the ones she’d ironed the day before, with a good shirt, then added his sole suit jacket over it.  He combed his hair back and headed downstairs to greet any arrivals while Maude dressed.

She donned her newest and best dress, a simple black broadcloth garment she’d made two years earlier.  The skirt ended below her calves but it’d become the fashion.  The white collar and cuffs added a neat look Maude liked.  She managed to find a pair of black stockings where the darns didn’t show and pulled her button-up shoes out from beneath the bed.  After studying her reflection in the wavering glass of the sole mirror, Maude took down her hair, brushed it out, and braided it into two pigtails.  She pinned them across the crown of her head and on impulse dug in a bureau drawer for earrings.  It required effort to push them through her half-shut pierced earlobes, but she managed to get them inserted.  With a dab of rose scent on her wrists and throat, Maude went downstairs as the sound of the first arrivals floated upward.

Chapter Five

By a quarter to twelve, four coffins rested near the open graves, hand-hewn with difficulty from the rocky soil.  Close to forty people milled out in the yard between the house and the graveyard but more were on the way, or so they’d heard from the early arrivals.  Maude watched from the windows.  One more wagon approached along the creek and she saw a familiar gray head beneath a bonnet she knew well.  “Granny’s here,” she told Harry and before he could reply, she dashed outside to meet the old woman.  Fred assisted his mother-in-law down from the wagon seat and nodded to Maude.

“Child, let me look at you,” Granny said. “You’re a sight for these poor old eyes.  You’re lookin’ fine and I’m sorry it took death to get me out here.”

“I should’ve come to town to visit you,” Maude said. “I’ve missed you fierce.”

“You’re better to keep home with all this influenza,” Granny said with a shake of her head. “It’s bad.  I had it myself but I’m a tough old woman and death didn’t seem to want me yet. And I’m sorry to hear about your poor mama. Where’s little George at?”

“In the house with Harry,” Maude replied. “Granny…”

Granny cocked her head and fixed her unblinking gaze on Maude. “If you’re fixin’ to tell me you two are sweethearts, it’s no surprise to me or anyone else with eyes in their head.  And if you’re worryin’ I’ll fuss ‘cause he moved back down here from the old cabin, I ain’t.  You need a man around this place and he needs a woman.  Onliest thing I wondered is what took so long and when you’re getting’ hitched.”

Maude threw her arms around Granny and hugged her. “We’re getting married soon as we can,” she said. “I’m glad you’re not mad.”

“Mad?” the old woman repeated. “I’m glad, child, and that’s the truth.  Always did figure you’d been better off weddin’ Harry anyhow.  But I kept my mouth shut and things have a way of working out.  I wish Jamie hadn’t gone to war and got kilt but he did.  Take my arm and help me up to the house before I have to go out to the graveyard.”

Inside, Harry met his grandmother.  She whispered something in his ear Maude couldn’t catch, but he flushed with pleasure and kissed Granny on the cheek.  George ran to her, crying, “Granny!” and the old woman sat down so she could take the little boy onto her lap.  Although she’d been in good spirits, Maude saw the stray tear sliding down Granny’s cheek as she cuddled George.  Although she’d known Granny would grieve for her daughter, granddaughter, and two great-granddaughters, three generations of women, Maude hurt to see the physical evidence of grief.
She’s tougher than me.  She’s buried her husband and a grandson before these four and yet she still manages to live.

At straight-up noon, the sun overhead on a brisk, cold day, they gathered at the burying ground.  Brother Johnson read Scripture from both the book of John and Ecclesiastes.  His voice almost broke as he read
“a time to be born and a time to die”.
  Maude watched naked grief knife across each face and realized everyone present had lost someone, many more than one to the flu.  The preacher spoke a little about how impossible it is to understand God’s ways but how important to accept what comes on faith.  He kept it short, however, thanks to the sharp wind whistling up the hollow and a desire not to cause any more believers to fall ill.

After the chill air outdoors, the farmhouse seemed close and overheated as Maude served dinner to the assembled family, friends, and pallbearers.  Grief appeared to bring out a ravenous appetite as guests scattered throughout the house with full plates. By the time the last mourner departed around five, they’d eaten almost everything she prepared. Although some of the women helped wash the mountain of dishes and stack of dirty pans, Maude teetered on the verge of collapse by the time they were alone.  She sank down into a chair with a sigh. Several of the departing folks wished them “Merry Christmas” under the assumption they wouldn’t meet again before the holiday.  Until then, Maude, her mind on other things, hadn’t even thought about Christmas or the New Year. Now she’d have to consider it, make something for Harry and for her boy.  No one’d said anything about Harry taking up residence in the farmhouse again but Maude caught a few curious stares. 
Later,
she thought,
I’ll think about it later.  I’m too tired now.

Harry sprawled out before the fire, his suit jacket hung on the back of a kitchen chair.  Any other time she’d fuss about his good shirt on the floor but Maude let it slide for now.  George lay on the ancient sofa, half-eyed and curled into a ball.  From the way the little boy clutched his stomach, she figured he must have a bellyache and steeled herself for the inevitable howling.  Just as she sat up to see about the kid, George made a gurgling noise she knew too well.  His expression shifted from sleepy to sick, and before she could cross the room he puked.  The sound of the splatter turned her stomach but Maude headed for George.

Before she reached him, Harry did.  He stripped off his shirt on the way and in his
A
-shirt, he picked up George.  The boy clung to him, crying and fretful, mumbling about his belly.  “Aw, you just ate too much, buddy,” Harry said. “Let’s get you to the kitchen and washed up.  Maudie, if you’ll go fetch his nightclothes, I’ll get him clean.”

She thought she should protest so she did. “I can do it, Harry.”

He held up one hand. “No, honey, you can’t. You don’t want to get his spew on your best dress.”  Maude hadn’t thought or she wouldn’t have offered. “I’ll go change,” she said, with a deep sigh. “Then I’ll wipe up in here.”

“I’ll get it, too,” Harry said. “I’ll do it soon as I get the little man down for the night.  Whyn’t you just go on to bed, honey?  I know you’re worn to a frazzle.”

Maude was, but so was Harry. “I am,” she admitted. “But you’re tired too.  I ought to take care of George.  Do you think he’ll sick up again?”

Harry’s eyes met hers and he smiled a little. “No, he just ate too much, that’s all. He gnawed his way ‘round two pieces of pie.  I think I can find a peppermint candy stick to settle his belly.  Go on, Maudie.  I’ll be up in a bit.”

Too tired to argue, she nodded. “All right, Harry.  Thanks.”

Any other time Maude would’ve tended her son but her weariness crept over her with such heaviness, she undressed in the dark, hung her dress up, and fell into bed.  When she woke, she noticed Harry fumbling with his clothes and thought he was about to retire.  “Is George all right?” she asked. “And are you coming to bed?”

Even in the milk light she noticed his frown. “Honey, its mornin’,” Harry said. “I’m gettin’ dressed to do chores but I meant to let you sleep.”

Morning meant she’d slept all night, something she’d seldom done since George was born.  “What about my little man?” she asked.

“He’s fine,” Harry said. “Never puked again and he’s been sleepin’ too.  Lay back down, Maudie, if you want.  It’s early yet.”

“I ought to make the coffee and fix breakfast,” she said.  Harry leaned over the bed and kissed her, soft and gentle. “You can do it later, honey,” he told her. “There’s no hurry.  I know you’re whipped out.  Go ahead, rest awhile longer.”

She shouldn’t, Maude thought, but she did.  She rose mid-morning, later than she ever remembered sleeping unless she happened to be down sick, and checked George’s room.  He wasn’t there, but before she descended the stairs she heard his laughter. 
Harry’s so good with him.
  A warm rush of affection for Harry poured over her and for a moment Maude was almost happy.  Then she recalled the multiple funerals, her mother’s death, and the uncertainty of the future.  By the time she found her way into the kitchen, her mood darkened.  She found them washing up their breakfast dishes with merriment and mess.   For a moment Maude hung back, feeling as left out as a schoolgirl not asked to join in jumping rope, but Harry glanced up with a grin. “Good morning, Maudie,” he said. “I’ve kept the coffee on the stove for you if you want some.”

“Thanks.” She needed something to get going. Despite all her hours of sleep, Maude remained tired.  Her first sip of the strong brew almost gagged her—Harry’d used more coffee than she would and the result tasted bitter.  Maude bit her tongue, though, and added more sugar.  When he offered to fry an egg for her breakfast, she refused. “I don’t have much of an appetite,” she said. “I’ll eat at dinnertime, although I don’t know what I’ll cook.”

“I shot two squirrels this morning,” Harry told her. “I cleaned ‘em and they’re ready to cook when you are.”

Maude nodded.  There should be enough sweet potatoes left to bake a few to go with the squirrel.  She’d cut them into pieces the way she did chicken, and bread them with a mixture of flour and cornmeal.  “That’ll do,” she told him.  Supper she’d have to figure out on her own.

George climbed onto her lap and she cuddled him. “Your belly better?” she asked.  The boy shook his head. “And you ate breakfast.”

“Uh-huh.”  A smear of butter on his lip and brownish crumbs around his mouth raised her suspicions.  “What’d Pop feed you?” Maude asked in a voice sharp enough George’s grin faltered. “Sugar bread?”

“Soo-gar,” George said and rubbed his stomach.  Maude drew breath and before she could say a word, Harry plucked the boy from her lap. “Why don’t you go play in the front room?” he said. “Start making a barn with those blocks and I’ll come help you in a bit.  Stay away from the fire, though, it’s hot.”

She waited until the boy headed into the other part of the house before Maude turned to Harry. “Why’d you give him something like that after he got sick?” she asked, cross. The sugary treat, a poor man’s dessert, wasn’t what she thought an upset stomach needed. “He’d been better off with a cold biscuit and some milk.  There’s biscuits left from yesterday in the brown crockery bowl, under the dish towel.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “He wanted it, Maudie, and I didn’t see the harm.  And he didn’t puke.  It bothered him you were still in bed. I think it scared him—he’s used to you being up at the crack of dawn.  Things have been hard and he don’t understand.  I don’t doubt he ate too much yesterday, but part of what had his guts roiled up is everything changed and he’s not caught up yet.”

His answer made sense but she couldn’t stifle an urge to be cantankerous.
My mean bone is showing today.
“George ought not eat something so sweet first thing in the morning after he’s been sick,” she said. “Brown sugar’s awful rich. You’re supposed to use white sugar for sugar bread.”  Her voice sounded resentful and harsh. 

Harry’s expression darkened.  “I do the best I can, Maude,” he told her. “I know there’s been a lot of death and gloom ‘round here.  It wears on me same as it wears on you. But we can’t start takin’ it out on each other.  If we do, we’ll just cause more hurt.”

Although his tone remained level, his words hit home.  The last thing she wanted was to deliver pain, especially not to Harry.  Tears burned in the corners of her eyes and Maude dashed them away.  “I didn’t mean to be sharp,” she said. “I’m still just so tired, Harry, and I’m sorry.” 

“You’d feel better if you’d eat something,” he said. “C’mere.” He extended her his hands and she grasped them.  He pulled her from the chair and to her feet.  “Let me hold you, honey.”

His arms provided sanctuary and she entered them with need.  Harry cradled her against him as Maude drew strength from his embrace.  His nearness, his familiar scent, his caring calmed her and leached some of the darkness out of her mood for now.  In this moment the love he wrapped around her tasted pure as new fallen snow.  Nothing sexual touched it and she savored the sweetness.  Emotions on edge, body weary, soul tired, Maude needed what Harry gave.  They stood together for a long time and by the time he released her, her mood soared lighter, freer.  She ate two cold biscuits smeared with Granny’s crab apple jelly, drank another cup of coffee, and at Harry’s insistence Maude watched George play.

After their midday dinner of fried squirrels, roasted sweet ‘taters, and the last of a stray apple pie Maude found, the three settled in for a quiet afternoon.  Maude picked up her never-empty mending basket and began patching a pair of Harry’s overalls.  George ran out of steam and Harry laid him on the sofa for a nap, covered with a patchwork quilt.   Sleet pecked the windows with chill insistence as Harry rubbed grease into his worn brogans in an effort to keep out the damp.  He set the shoes in front of the fire to dry and sprawled out in a chair, half dozing.   The steady work of her hands and the rhythm of the needle as she sewed brought a familiar sense of purpose.  Focused on the task, Maude kept her mind quiet but when she finished the patch, she reached for another garment and then put it down. 

Restless, she rose and went into the kitchen.  Supper loomed ahead but she decided she could fry a pork chop each from the just-killed hog.  She could finish out the meal with a pan of cornbread and maybe some of the corn she’d put up last summer.  Maude reached for her shawl on the peg near the back door and wrapped it around her shoulders.  Despite the weather she stepped outside and inhaled the frigid, fresh air.  Maude gazed up into the sky, the ice pellets stinging against her cheeks.  Heavy gray clouds scudded above the treetops and moved with speed.  The agitated churning in the heavens brought back some of her earlier unease, and the bits of sleet sticking to her shawl reminded her of frozen tears.  Tears evoked her grief and although she’d managed not to cry during the graveside funerals the day before, Maude wept now for the dead—the four they laid to rest up the hill, her mother, Granpa, and Jamie.