Lover's Knot, page 19
Birdie was still sleeping, so Leah was careful not to shake the bed when she slipped out from under the pile of quilts. She tiptoed barefoot into the kitchen and reignited the fire in the cookstove. Then she lit the woodstove that sat on the hearth of the old stone fireplace. It began to warm the room immediately, but she hugged herself as she waited, dancing from foot to foot.
New brides usually moved from their family homes, but to Leah it seemed right to be staying here. She loved this house, particularly this cozy room where she had spent so many evenings. The logs were newly chinked and whitewashed. The roomy loft where she and Jesse would sleep looked down on the fireplace, but there was a railing for privacy and a window beside their bed to let in the light. She wanted a window in the roof. She wanted to lie with her husband and ponder who lived on the moon and stars, and what they thought about when they looked down at her. She planned to see if Jesse could add such a thing. She thought if anyone could, it would be her Jesse.
The kitchen was large enough for eight at the table and more if people kept elbows to their sides. When more came to dinner, her mother and father had pulled in a work table from the porch and set it in front of the black walnut china cupboard. Of course, Mama had been sure to remove whatever dishes she needed first. There was no getting them after the table came inside.
Now Leah would be the one to bring out Mama’s dishes. They were not elegant, but many a good meal had been eaten on those chipped surfaces. Memories lived in every spidery scar.
She had tried to talk to Birdie about the dishes, about who would take them out, who would decide when to invite neighbors for meals and where they would sit. Birdie was the older, of course, and it seemed right that she should have a say. But Birdie only laughed.
“If I wanted the things that come with marriage, I would have found myself a man to have me. Maybe you get some of the good things as come with being wedded, but me, I get the things that don’t. Like not having to decide who best to pamper and cultivate. Now you and Jesse, you’ll have to make those decisions and leave me alone to do whatever I like.”
What her sister liked, Leah knew, was cooking meals, baking whatever the cupboard allowed, sewing clothes and making quilts. Birdie also liked listening at night when Leah read aloud from whatever book she managed to get from Aubrey Grayling, Jesse’s best friend and the son of the man who owned the general store. Aubrey, who these days did most of the work there, kept two shelves with books to borrow, as long as borrowers left something precious behind as ransom. Her grandmother’s seed-pearl brooch resided behind a counter at Grayling’s more often than it resided in Leah’s own dresser.
“Now here’s the bride turning as white as a snowstorm,” Birdie said from the doorway. “If you want to call off this wedding, I reckon you just have to say so. But you’re fixing to make yourself sick.”
In a rare moment of open affection, Leah ran to her sister and wrapped her arms around her. “Birdie girl, I was just warming the house for you. The last time it’ll be me doing it.”
Birdie felt as fragile as a young sapling, but she put her arms around Leah for a quick hug before she pushed her away. “Me, I don’t see nothing to be sad about. I’ll have a whole bed to myself, and you can sleep a mite longer every morning, because Jesse will be the first up to get the fire started.”
“Well, I won’t have a bed to myself.” Even all these weeks after Jesse had proposed marriage, Leah was still pondering that. Sleeping with Birdie, who never moved and took up only a fraction of the space, was one thing. But sleeping in a bed with Jesse, who took up room just by breathing or smiling? It was something to consider.
“No need to dwell on that,” Birdie said. “It will happen soon enough.”
Leah wondered exactly how much sleeping she and Jesse would do, and the thought pleased her. “You still aim to go and stay with Etta after the dinner?”
“You’re no help to me with my quilting. Etta’ll help me finish two tops I promised I’d put in Grayling’s before Christmas.”
Leah felt such fondness for her sister. Although it was painful for her to travel, Birdie was leaving for the rest of the week to give Leah time alone with Jesse. Of course, Birdie had found a way to pretend spending time with their cousin Etta was exactly what she wanted.
From the moment Leah had told her sister she and Jesse were going to be married, Birdie had been particularly thoughtful, as if she felt she needed to take their mother’s place. In her sweet distracted way, she had made Leah look at all the ways life would change. And when Leah had firmly declared her intentions, Birdie had promised to welcome Jesse into their family. There had been no talk of her moving away for good, though. Even if they had wanted it that way, there was no place for Birdie to go.
“I’ll make us some coffee,” Birdie said. “It’ll chase away the cobwebs in my head. They’re thicker than snow clouds in a blizzard.”
Leah walked with her toward the kitchen. The house was already growing pleasantly warm. “Didn’t you sleep, Birdie?”
“I did.”
“Did you have good dreams?”
Birdie shook her head. “I saw terrible things.”
“What kind of things?”
Birdie considered. “Maybe I shouldn’t say.” She paused. “Or maybe I should. Etta says if you tell a bad dream before breakfast, it cain’t come true.”
Leah laughed. “You’re a goose. Go ahead, then, tell me.”
“I dreamed you was running down the mountain, just as fast as your legs would carry you, Leah. So fast that before I could call to you, you were gone. Then I heared you falling. And falling...”
Leah shivered. “You only dreamed such a thing because I’m getting married today. Just remember, I’m not running away from you.”
“Jesse was trying to run after you, and he couldn’t catch up.”
“Well, see? Now we know for sure how foolish a dream it was. There’s nowhere I could ever run that Jesse Spurlock couldn’t run faster.”
“Well, I’m glad I told you, just so’s it won’t come to pass.”
Leah was glad, too. Today she wanted Birdie to be as happy as she was. If it made her sister feel better, it was a small thing to listen to some of her worries.
Leah gently squeezed Birdie’s arm. “I’m going to dress and do the chores. Then I’ll come inside and we’ll eat breakfast.”
“Don’t dawdle,” Birdie said. “We have pies to bake for dinner. And Jesse’ll be over to get us midday.”
“I’ll have a lot to be thankful for today.” Leah paused. “I wish Mama and Daddy were here.”
“I’ll be there,” Birdie said. “You just remember that. I’ll be there for you. And from this day on, I’ll be there for Jesse, too.”
* * *
The Spurlock house was larger than the Blackburns’, the first story built of carefully mortared stones, the second of logs that fit together so perfectly there was little need for chinking. The house was the finest in the hollow. The front porch was wide enough for chairs against the rail and walls, and the paneled door had been deeply carved with scrolls by Jesse’s father, who had been the hollow’s most talented woodworker. In the summer, yellow roses bloomed along the front, accompanied by bridal wreath and snowball bushes. Mountain laurel and flame azalea preened on the shadiest side of the house.
Leah, in her best print dress, the palest of blues sprinkled with tiny red roses, was greeted enthusiastically by Jesse’s mother, Ginny, and stepfather, Luther Collins, as well as all the family and neighbors who had been invited to share Thanksgiving dinner and witness the wedding. She wore her grandmother’s seed-pearl brooch, ransomed back for the occasion, and carried an embroidered handkerchief her mother had carried on her own wedding day.
Because the afternoon was unseasonably warm, tables had been placed outside to take advantage of the extra space. Three turkeys raised in a pen on corn and cheerful anticipation had met their fate. Now they fed the Thanksgiving gathering, along with platters of harvest vegetables, dried beans cooked with sausage and ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, hot bread, cornpone and pies made from every type of fruit growing in the mountains. Mrs. Collins had made three apple spice cakes with boiled frosting. The preacher blessed the food and reminded them how lucky they were in a time of want to have such bounty before them.
As the afternoon passed, children finished quickly and chased one another around the tables. Babies cried and were taken inside to be fed. The oldest men and women napped in the sunshine.
Leah and Jesse were put at opposite ends of the largest table. She ignored the quips of the old men, the way they poked Jesse in the ribs and wiggled their eyebrows when they looked at her. The women were just as bad, although Jesse’s sisters took pity and placed the preacher beside her so she would have someone sensible to talk to.
When the meal ended, homemade peach brandy was served, and although no one in Lock Hollow paid much attention to Prohibition, the fact that the twenty-first amendment might soon be repealed pleased them all.
The preacher, a beefy man who fed his brood by chopping trees and hauling them down the mountain, was as pleased to see brandy as anyone at the table. Pipes were lit, more brandy was poured and the women began to clear. When Leah and Birdie tried to help, they were told to stay put.
In truth, Leah was sorry to be the honored guest. Though they were still sitting outside, the smoke of Virginia’s own tobacco made her eyes water.
“So what do you hear, Aubrey,” one of the men asked, “about this here park they’re trying to shove down our gullets?”
Aubrey Grayling was not as handsome as Leah’s husband-to-be, but he was easy to look at, with chestnut-colored hair and bright blue eyes. He was slight, befitting a storekeeper, and not as strong as a man who fed his family by laboring in the fields. But Leah knew looks were deceptive. In a fight, any man in Lock Hollow was glad to have Aubrey Grayling on his side.
Aubrey sat back in his chair, happy to be the center of attention. Since sooner or later everyone visited Grayling’s and stayed to swap stories, Aubrey always knew the most recent news, far and near. “I reckon they want to move us out of our houses, all right, but nobody in charge has got the time or money to do it.”
“Took the government more than a decade to figure that Prohibition wasn’t gonna stop men from drinkin’,” one of Jesse’s cousins said. “Give the men in charge a cane pole and a washtub of trout and they still wouldn’t know enough to put a worm on the hook.”
Leah knew too well what the men were discussing. For many years there had been talk that the United States government was going to build a park in Virginia’s mountains. Laws had passed; officials had appeared and disappeared; boundaries had been discussed, drawn and redrawn. The federal government couldn’t buy the land, but the State of Virginia seemed willing to buy it or steal it for them. A condemnation order had been issued. Landowners had sued and sued again, tying up the process in courts.
But the prospect of the government taking over what the mountain people had worked so hard to attain was still just a topic for discussion. Remote Lock Hollow was on the fringes of the acreage to be set aside, and as yet no one had come knocking on their doors. Like most residents, Leah didn’t think a park would come to pass in her lifetime.
Of course, one year ago ground had been broken for Skyline Drive, a road that would wind along the highest ridges and let travellers view Virginia’s scenic beauty. The first section was due to open in two years, bringing with it a host of strangers. And no one had thought that would come to pass, either.
“We’re boring the ladies,” the preacher said. “And there ain’t no call to have this discussion on a day when we come together to give thanks.” He paused long enough to stir a little guilt; then he grinned. “So who’s got a coonhound that can beat my old redbone?”
By the time the dishes were cleared and the tables returned to the house, the sun was on the wane and the air had grown cooler. Leah still wanted to be married outside, but she knew they had to get to it soon. Some of the men had brought instruments, and furniture had been moved to the sides of the rooms so people could dance. She and Jesse would slip away when no one was paying attention. She was pretty sure no one would follow them and try to disturb their first night together, not with death such a recent visitor to the Blackburn home.
There was a flurry of activity on the porch; then Jesse’s sisters came down the stairs, surrounding Leah and Birdie and bringing them inside. Suddenly everyone was fussing over the Blackburn sisters. A cousin had powder and lipstick and a comb, and proceeded to use them with abandon. An aunt had picked the remnants of the season’s chrysanthemums and tied the bouquet with a pink ribbon. Ginny Collins presented Leah with a white hat, the narrow brim accented with the same ribbon.
Leah was touched by all the attention. She knew the women were trying to make up for her mother’s absence.
She was walking down the steps before she had time to think about what was coming. Birdie, in her red and white checked dress, went first, taking the steps slowly and leaning against the rail. Leah stepped out on the porch as soon as Birdie made it safely to the ground.
Jesse was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her, handsome in a dark suit that had probably fit his stepfather better than it fit him. But it didn’t matter that the suit was a little short and a little tight. This was Jesse. Leah waited for Birdie to move away, patient as her sister stopped for a long breath, then took the time she needed to get past Jesse, who gave her a warm smile. Finally, with Birdie safely clear, Leah walked down to meet him.
The ceremony was short. While some had helped her primp, the other women had arranged dried flowers, twigs and leaves in jugs, and set them in a wide semicircle in the clearing just beyond the house. She and Jesse followed the preacher and Birdie. When they were settled, the preacher pulled out his Bible and read Psalm 128, then began to preach.
Leah tried to listen, but afterward all she could remember was Jesse’s expression. His eyes were warm, his lips turned up in a smile, but three sentences into the sermon, his foot began to tap. As the preacher droned, it tapped faster, and faster. Jesse had more energy than any man Leah knew, and standing there with nothing to do was surely driving him crazy. Despite the smile, she knew he was about to burst.
Just as she was afraid he was going to bolt, the preacher asked them to repeat their vows. She wasn’t sure what she said, but whatever it was, she did it correctly. In a moment the pronouncement was made, and she and Jesse Spurlock were married and kissing.
As the last person finished congratulating them, the music began. People brought more gifts and piled them on the porch for the new couple to take home. Birdie had even brought the Lover’s Knot quilt to show it off.
“We have to stay a little while,” Jesse said, “but just before it gets truly dark, you meet me on the back porch, and we’ll go out that way without saying that’s what we’re doing.”
She liked that. She was already exhausted, and she wanted to be alone with him. They went inside hand in hand, and she was whirled from one set of arms to another as two fiddlers and Aubrey Grayling on the banjo filled the house with music. Two of Jesse’s tiniest nephews clung to her dress, and she lifted them up to dance, one in each arm. The family applauded when their mothers finally came and took the little boys away.
Birdie had her own admirers. Old men graciously took her in their arms and, barely moving, took her through the dance steps. Puss Cade’s mother told Leah how sorry she was that Puss and her brother had not been able to bring his family home for the wedding.
“I sent a right smart bunch of yarbs to help little Alice,” Leah said. “I surely hope she stops feeling poorly.”
“We depend on you the way we depended on your ma,” Mrs. Cade told her. “Nothing we buy at Grayling’s helps half so much as what your ma would give us.”
An hour later, Leah saw that the sun had almost set. A quick scan showed that her new husband was nowhere in sight. Unless he was out in the barn sampling some of the whiskey his own corn had made possible, he was waiting for her on the back porch. She fanned herself as if she were too hot and smiled at the women who had engaged her in conversation.
“I think I’ll just go get a little air.” She waved her hand harder. “All that dancing has me as hot as a chimney fire.”
One of the women winked. “We’ll see to it that nobody comes after you.”
Leah winked back.
She made her way through the room as unobtrusively as she could. In the kitchen, she pointed to the door when Mrs. Collins asked if she needed anything. “Just some air,” she said.
Mrs. Collins winked, too, and went back to washing dishes with two of her aunts.
Jesse wasn’t on the porch, so she descended the steps into the shadows. An arm snaked out and grabbed her, but before she could screech, Jesse’s lips silenced her. She put her arms around him and kissed him back. She could taste whiskey and warm-blooded male, and she liked the flavors very much.
Finally she pulled away. “You like to have scared me witless.”
“You witless is a sight I’d like to see.”
She giggled. “Can we get away now?”
“The wagon’s all ready.”
She wished they had a car. There were some in the mountains, but only where roads were good enough to warrant. The roads in this hollow were made for walking. Even the wagon was a bone-jolting ride.
She had an idea. “Let’s not take the wagon. Let’s walk. We can go through the woods.”
“I got it loaded up with all the stuff folks give us today.”
“We can get that later in the week. I don’t want to start my marriage all shook up like a beehive in a bear’s paws.”
