Weeping Willow (7 page)
Authors: Ruth White
When Dolly Horn got married and moved to Princeton, West Virginia, I was the only one who ever paid any attention to Nessie. The Horns didn’t even feed her regular, and she sat there behind that fence looking my way all the time. She really loved me, and I loved her more and more.I went over there a lot to talk to her through the fence. She whined and got as close as she could. I always checked to see if she had fresh water, and most of the time she didn’t. So I gave her water and all the food I could smuggle to her. Mama and Vern both fussed if they saw me feeding her.
One day after school I talked to Aunt Evie about Nessie. We were sitting at her kitchen table playing Old Maid, and eating pumpkin tarts.
“I’m the only one who cares about her,” I said. “And I would love to have her. I’ll declare it seems like I can’t ever have anything I really want. I always have wished for a collie dog, and there Nessie sits all the time pining, and I can’t have her. And then there’s boys. I want a real boyfriend, somebody cute and popular, and not one boy looks my way.”
“Give ’em time, Tiny.” Aunt Evie patted my hand. “You’re fleshing out real good now. One of these mornings you’re gonna look in the mirror and find a pretty woman.”
“Sure!”
The very next moment I was sitting there holding the Old Maid.
“See!” I cried. “An ugly Old Maid.”
Aunt Evie laughed.
“Bite your tongue!” she said. “Remember what I told you about saying nice things to yourself?”
“It don’t work, Aunt Evie.”
“Hit does so work!”
Aunt Evie shuffled the cards and dealt another hand.
“Now, Tiny, have you asked Ralph Horn about Nessie?”
“Asked him what?”
“Ask him can you have her. I heard him with my own ears say he’d like to get shed of that dog since Dolly’s gone.”
“He said that?”
“Yeah, and I’ll make you a deal, Miss Pouty-Mouth. You ask Ralph Horn if you can take Nessie off’n his hands for ’im, and I’ll talk to Vern for you.”
“You will? What’ll you say? He won’t listen. It won’t do no good. What’ll you say?”
“Just listen to yourself.” Aunt Evie shook her head. “Never mind what’ll I say to Vern. What’ll you say to Ralph?”
“I’ll be as nice and polite as I know how to be.”
“Good,” Aunt Evie said. “My Ward useter say sugar draws more flies than vinegar. And hit’s the God’s truth.”
Then Aunt Evie was left holding the Old Maid. We laughed.
“Yeah, there I am,” she said. “I’m the Old Maid for sure.”
I dealt, and we played in earnest silence for a few minutes.
“What is ‘happily ever after,’ Aunt Evie?” I finally said. “Does it exist?”
“Yes, Tiny. I never found hit, my own self, but I know hit exists. If I could have married my Ward …”
When I went back home and into the kitchen, Vern was sitting at the table in his underwear. A bottle of bourbon was in front of him, and he was holding a glass half-full.
I went to the refrigerator and poured myself some milk. Then I stood looking out the window over the sink, not even thinking of Vern Mullins.
“What’sa matter?” he said, and I could tell, the way he was slurring his words, he was nearly drunk. “You never saw a man in his drawers before?”
Not but about five thousand times, I was thinking, but I could see he was in no mood to be sassed. I turned around and looked at him.
“Sure I have.”
“When?”
I shrugged. “Lotsa times.”
“Who?”
“Well, you. Who else?”
Vern laughed. I forced myself to smile at him and set my glass in the sink. Then I started to walk by him to the living room. That’s when he grabbed me hard around the waist and plopped me down solid on his lap. I struggled, but his grip was tight.
“Let me go, Vern.”
“Just set still a minute and talk to your daddy. I don’t never get to see you.”
I was thinking,
You’re not my daddy, and I’m glad you’re not!
But I didn’t say it. I sat still, but I didn’t relax. His old breath smelled awful as he blew it in my face.
You’re not my daddy, and I’m glad you’re not!
But I didn’t say it. I sat still, but I didn’t relax. His old breath smelled awful as he blew it in my face.
“How’s high school?” he said.
What a stupid thing to say
, I was thinking.
, I was thinking.
“Fine,” I said.
He started rubbing my thigh with his right hand while he held me in place with his left.
“Vern, let me go,” I said.
“Just set still like I told you!”
He belched real big. Then he put his hand under my dress, and I made one powerful lunge out of his reach. He started laughing—snorting, I should say—and that made me so mad I couldn’t see straight. I went into the living room where Mama was sitting writing something in a book. She kept a list of all the things she saw advertised on television that she wanted to buy at the A & P.
“Dee—eep Magic,” the television was babbling from the corner like an insane relative. “The cleansing lotion that cleans your skin deep, deep down where beauty begins.”
“Why do you stay with him?” I hissed at her, as I flopped down on the couch beside Mama.
“What’re you talking about?” she snapped back.
“I hate him!”
“Who?”
“That good-for-nothing man you married! I hate—”
But there was no finishing that sentence. Mama was all over me like a mad woman. She slapped me first, then she grabbed me up by the shoulders and shook me till I saw stars.
“Don’t you never, never say that to me again!” she hollered in my face. “As good as Vern’s been to you! You should fall down on your knees and thank God for your stepdaddy!”
She was panting and all red in the face. There was a ringing in my ears. We just stood there glaring at each other for a minute, then I spun around on my heels and rushed upstairs. My head was confused and reeling. I didn’t know whether to cry, or fume and fuss some more. Worse yet, maybe Mama was right and there was something wrong with me that I didn’t appreciate Vern for all he did for us. I went into my room where Phyllis was playing paper dolls. Couldn’t I just get away from everybody? Was there no place I could be alone?
“What’sa matter?” Phyllis said.
I flopped down on the bed.
“Get out!” I yelled at her.
“Make me!” she yelled back.
But I couldn’t make anybody do anything. I was helpless. I dissolved in tears.
The next morning, Mama was watching Dave Garroway when I came down for breakfast. I went to the kitchen and fixed myself a bowl of corn flakes, and she came in and sat down at the table with a cup of coffee.“I reckon I shouldn’t have slapped you,” she said. “What did Vern do to you?”
“Nothing’.”
“Why was you so mad?”
“He was drunk.”
“Huh! He’s drunk a lot. So what else is new?”
I shrugged again. What was the use?
“I don’t know what I would do without him,” she said, and her voice quivered.
I looked at her and there were tears in her eyes.
“How could I feed you and the young’uns? Did you ever think of that, huh? This is Vern’s house. Where would we go?”
She was terrified.
“I don’t know, Mama, but it sounds like you’ve been thinking about it.”
“The thought has crossed my mind, Tiny, but it just crossed and kept on going. How can I make a living and raise four kids at the same time? I’ve got no education. What can I do?”
I guess that was the truth. Lord knows we had little enough as it was with Vern bringing home good money from the mines. And there was no way we would ever get a penny out of him if Mama left him.
“Well, quit worrying about it. I’ll just stay out of his way.”
“Did he pinch you or what?”
“Yeah, he pinched me.”
“I’ll tell him to stop treating you like a child. He forgets you’re growing up.”
Now, that was a laugh, but I didn’t feel like laughing.
Mama changed the subject quickly.
“You put me in mind a whole lot of that Betty Anderson on
Father Knows
Best, Tiny, except you’re not as tall. Why don’t you put up your hair in a ponytail?”
Father Knows
Best, Tiny, except you’re not as tall. Why don’t you put up your hair in a ponytail?”
I had been thinking of doing that.
“Maybe I will. It needs to grow some more.”
“Yeah,” she agreed.
We didn’t speak of Vern again for a long time after that. I decided it was best to just stay clear of him, so I wouldn’t have to worry Mama. He was my problem.
A few days later, Aunt Evie asked Vern about Nessie, but it was like talking to a wall. And Mr. Horn wouldn’t even hear me out. So much for sugar being better than vinegar.
I sent a Christmas card to Mr. Gillespie and put XO’s all over it, and signed it
Ernestina.
Then I kissed it before I put it in the mail. That was a week before Christmas.
Ernestina.
Then I kissed it before I put it in the mail. That was a week before Christmas.
On the night before Christmas Eve, Beau trapped me in the kitchen and wouldn’t let me go till I agreed to read
A Christmas Carol
with him aloud. He just loved culture, Beau did. So I settled down seriously with him at the kitchen table, which was cluttered with dirty dishes.
A Christmas Carol
with him aloud. He just loved culture, Beau did. So I settled down seriously with him at the kitchen table, which was cluttered with dirty dishes.
“I wear the chains I forged in life,” Beau said, his voice an ominous, ghostly quiver. Sometimes he was a really good actor, and the kitchen was deadly quiet except for his hoarse whisper as Marley’s ghost. Then there was a sudden rattle at the kitchen door and I nearly jumped through the air.
“What was that?” I whispered.
“Just a piece of undigested beef,” Beau said in his Scrooge voice, “or a bit of mustard.”
“No, really, Beau, somebody’s at the door.”
“Nobody’s at the door, Tiny.”
There came a sharp bark at the door.
“Nessie!” I rushed out and there she was panting and swishing her tail like a whisk broom, and jumping all over me. I threw my arms around her.
“Oh, Nessie!”
How good it was to hold her. She came into the house with me.
“Uh-oh!” Beau said. “You better not let Daddy see it.”
“She is not an it.”
I stroked her softly, and she snuggled against me.
Phyllis came in from the living room. “Lassie!” She laughed and hugged Nessie. “Ain’t she pretty?”
“Shh …” I said. “It’s Nessie, not Lassie. Where’s Vern?”
“Watching
Gunsmoke
with Mama. Let’s hide her upstairs.”
Gunsmoke
with Mama. Let’s hide her upstairs.”
“Let’s finish this chapter,” Beau said irritably.
But Nessie wanted all my attention. I gave her a piece of bologna. That’s when somebody knocked on the door.
“Where’s my dawg?” came a muffled voice. “You got my dawg in there?”
It was Mr. Horn, of course. Nessie whimpered and slunk into a corner.
I let Mr. Horn in.
“Hidy, Mr. Horn,” Beau said. “How ya doin’? Lose something?”
“You know I did. Where’s my dawg?”
Then his eye fell on poor Nessie. With two big steps he was across the room and gave a mighty yank on her collar.
“Come on, ya bitch!”
Nessie let out a yelp, and I flinched.
“Oh, don’t hurt her!” Phyllis said, and threw her arms around Nessie, which like to have surprised me to death. I never thought Phyllis had it in her to love anybody but herself.
“Git out’n my way,” Mr. Horn hollered.
He started pulling Nessie toward the door, and she whimpered.
Vern came in from the living room to see what all the fuss was about.
“What’n the world?” he said.
“Vernon Mullins, I come to git my dawg,” Mr. Horn said.
“Well, take yer damn dawg and good riddance!” Vern said.
“She came looking for me!” I screamed above the commotion. I was exasperated. “Nobody cares about her but me! How come y’all can’t see that? How come I can’t have her!”
For about five seconds there was silence in the room, and all eyes were on me. Then the two men glanced at each other and Mr. Horn led Nessie out the door. I left the kitchen abruptly and headed for my room.
“I wear the chains I forged in life!” Beau hollered and threw the book after me.
The next day it came a freezing rain that turned to sleet. The kids were all excited about Christmas, and hoped the sleet would turn to snow. Try as I might, I couldn’t get Nessie off my mind. I would look over there and see her standing, shivering in the sleet and looking toward our house. She was pitiful.
Then she got out of the gate again, and Mr. Horn put her back and tied her to the fence. That broke my heart. She couldn’t even reach her house from where he tied her. She stood there in the weather, waiting for me to save her. How could I possibly stand that?
Beau, Luther, and Phyllis all went to bed early because it was Christmas Eve. I stayed up with Mama and Vern to watch television, but I couldn’t tell you a thing I saw. The image of poor Nessie standing there shivering in the sleet was emblazoned in front of my eyeballs. When I went up to go to bed with Phyllis, I looked out the window with dread in my heart.
And there she was. I felt like it was me standing there in the wet and cold looking for somebody to love me. She couldn’t lie down on the soaked ground and she couldn’t reach her house. Her head was bowed close to the ground, but she was facing my house.
I crawled in bed beside Phyllis.
“Please, God, help Nessie,” I whispered in the dark. “Help me to help Nessie.”
“Steal her!” a voice came back.
I jumped, but it was Phyllis, of course.
“What’n the world you doing awake, Phyllis? Santy Claus won’t come if you’re awake.”
“How can I sleep with Nessie standing out there?” she said.
There for a minute I almost liked her.
“I guess she’ll be all right, Phyllis. We gotta stop thinking about her.”
“I been trying to stop, but I can’t. The Horns are so mean to her.”
I tiptoed to the window again and looked out. I could barely see the sad figure bowed down in the cold. Phyllis came up beside me.
“Let’s steal her, Tiny,” she said again.
“And what good would that do? Mr. Horn would just come and get her, and what’s more, we would be in trouble.”
“He’s in bed now. And Nessie could be warm and dry on Christmas Eve.”
I looked at Phyllis and saw that her eyes were sparkling with excitement. Yeah, I thought, everybody must be asleep by now. We could bring Nessie up here in our room and dry her, give her something to eat, pet her. I glanced out the window again. The sleet was turning to snow. My mind was made up.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
Suddenly the room was electric.
“We have to do everything without lights. First our shoes and socks and coats and scarves,” I whispered.
We didn’t speak as we donned our heavy gear over our pajamas in the dark.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, and she sat down beside me. “We have to be as quiet as can be. If anybody hears us, it’ll all be over.”
“Okay.”
“Now, you stay behind me going out. Coming back in, you hold the gate and the door for me and Nessie.”
“Okay.”
I took a deep breath, and opened the door. All was black and quiet. We tiptoed down the stairs. Phyllis held on to my coat, and I could hear her breathing excitedly. At the front door we had to be extra careful because it was liable to squeak real bad. But we managed to ease outside without a sound. Then we went down the tall steps, all the time Phyllis hanging on to me without a sound.
When we were in the open yard without shelter, we discovered just how cold it was. Big icy flakes of snow were falling. We headed toward the Horns’ gate. About that time Nessie saw us coming, and she started shaking all over. She was happy! I was afraid she would bark, but she didn’t, the sweet thing. She just jumped around a lot. We crept in the gate and went to her. My hands were too cold to feel the catch and I fumbled with her chain. Then I discovered to my horror that the chain was so tight around her neck I couldn’t get one finger underneath it. Tears came to my eyes.
“Be still,” I said softly to her and stroked her cold, wet body. “We’re going to help you.”
Phyllis held her as I struggled with the chain. At last I found the catch and unsnapped it. She was free. We didn’t have to urge her to come with us. We turned silently, heading home, and she followed happily.
Snow had covered us all by that time, and stung our faces as we walked against the wind. We didn’t speak as we went up the tall steps and gently opened the front door. There we stopped and listened. The only sound was Vern’s snoring, which was a relief. Together we guided Nessie into the dark house and up the stairs. All went well. At last we were in our room, with the door closed tightly behind us.
“We made it,” Phyllis whispered excitedly.
“So far, so good,” I said. “But I know she’s hungry and thirsty. I’m going to find her something.”
We shed our heavy clothing, and Nessie settled on a rug beside our bed. She sighed heavily and rested her chin on her paws. Phyllis covered her with a quilt.
I went down to the kitchen and filled an empty lard bucket half-full of water, and some leftover pork and cabbage with corn bread crumbled up in it. When I took it upstairs, Phyllis was rubbing Nessie with an old flannel shirt.
“She’s soaked to the skin,” she said.
I set the food and water down for Nessie, and she gobbled it up.
“We can’t hide her for long,” I said.
We wrapped up in blankets and settled on the floor, one on either side of her.
“I’m going to beg Daddy for her,” Phyllis said.
Yeah, that was a thought: Phyllis. Vern would do just about anything for her.
“We better go to bed, Phyllis,” I said. “Or Santy Claus will never come.”
“Well, I don’t believe that stuff no more, Tiny.”
“You don’t? How come?”
“That’s kid stuff.”
We were quiet in our own thoughts for a long time. I was thinking I never really saw Phyllis as a person before. She was this aggravating, squealing young’un I had to put up with. But there might be a real person in there.
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