The Haunting Hour

1. Tricker Lake, TN-2

‘Just like Mama, y’all thinking salt water cures everything. Just saw more salt water than you could ever dream of. It’s hard and it’s mean and doesn’t ever let up when it has a job to do.’

‘Maybe that’s why Mama likes it?’

She shook her hand to get the tinglin’ out and reached out to pick some moss out of my hair.

‘Maybe, little brother. Maybe.’

Scratch. Pop. Hiss. Scratch. Pop. Hiss. Scratch. Pop. Hiss. Scratch. Pop. Hiss. Scratch. Pop. Hiss. Scratch. Pop. Hiss.

That was six. Had to stop till noon. Looked at my tiny logs floatin’ in the water. I kicked my legs over the edge and wondered if they ever made it to shore or just fell apart in the sun. Every time I came back here to the back of the house they were gone. Then I’d put six more in. That hissin’ sounded like a snake.

Damn it to hell—I heard Mama callin’. Sure enough, Deliah was in too deep and Mama was gonna make me do twice the work. I liked to be in it deep too, Mama. Shoulda been the oldest girl that did the most—supposed to lighten the load. Deliah don’t do much of nothin’ unless it had to do with helpin’ Mama by sittin’ still in a rockin’ chair. Guess she could be put to use proppin’ a door open, or you could push her and see how long she kept movin’ back and forth, maybe crush an old cat’s tail or a few pecans. I wondered if I stuck one of these lil’ magic sticks between her toes it might bring her a*s back down to the house. Hated to waste even one on our useless sister though, when my stores were getting’ this low. Hoped Daddy was leavin’ soon to get me some more books. He said he might be swingin’ over to North Carolina this time. Only got 14 matches from there.

‘Well now—looky here who decided to help her poor Mama today! Get your clothesline fingers ready and grab up all the pins.’

Praise the lord, the girl was up and about. I had a lotta washin’ and ironin’ to do. At least Hank comes back with his shirts still crisp. Don’t know how he does it and don’t know why I go to the trouble, to be honest. Thought he might have a few more wives out there ironin’ like me. That man was the least of my troubles, though. If he had other families out there, so be it, as long as he kept biscuits on this table. He knew I wasn’t no stranger to the ways of a man, especially one out there runnin’ free county to county with no way for me to know what he’s doin’. Gots to have faith, I reckoned, but faith was the same as just accepting what you have and not rockin’ the boat. Now, ain’t that funny?

‘Rockin’ the boat. You get it, Deliah?’

‘Sure, Mama. That storm gonna get us rocking, for sure. No use hanging clothes—don’t know why you even bothered fetching me.’

‘We can get some sheets up ‘fore it rolls in. You watch. Just pin ‘em up double with that wind howlin’ to Betsy.’ Got myself over to pull that paper down, which my cavortin’ hubby was hidin’ behind. ‘Hank, you better make sure we still tied down, or we’ll wind up in Alabama by nightfall.’

‘We chained down tight, woman. This place been through storms wilder than this one will be. Don’t you fret none about us floatin’ away.’

For all Hank knew, we just might get washed up close enough to one of his other wives. She could finish the doggone ironin’!

I got my girl Deliah sittin’ just starin’ at a hole in the wall back there. Movin’ and hustlin’ 24 days a month could wear thin on a man. You can’t much stake a future on haulin’ down highway 63 up past Sneedville pushin’ a jalopy ‘round another hairpin curve, hopin’ a loggin’ truck don’t take you to meet your maker with splinters in your brainpan. Hennie just about lost her hat when I rolled home in my ‘54 Chevy 210 Deluxe in onyx they sold me down in Alcoa, but when a man lives on the road he’s gotta have a standard, don’t he?

Hennie’s always goadin’ me about all my postcard wives out there, but that Chevy was more a wife than any other woman could be. She was always watchin’ out for me and got me through them mountain switchbacks easy breezy. She wasn’t jealous, either. Welcomed Hennie in to take a jaunt down to Knoxville and the farmers’ market, or a dark spot under the thick green for a little hanky panky on the back seat leather. Hennie got that black lacey underwear she would put on to match the paint. Still laid there after like kids, writin’ our initials and a heart in-between on the fogged-up window glass. I needed me more of them days.

I was always full of oats and one thing they taught you in the Navy was how to use your pecker. I figured you only got old when you forgot why you got one. I wasn’t shy then and I wasn’t about to start. Tended to stop that other wives talk too when we were lyin’ there lookin’ up through the back window at the swayin’ branches. At least for a bit, until I got back from Johnson City or Jellico or wherever the hell else needed them some checks. Back at it tomorrow, too.

Damn. They were gonna have me headed over the Smokies to Asheville and points east, to take over some fella’s territory that disappeared with his milkman from what I heard. Supposed them boys were halfway to California by now. I seen a thing or two out on the ocean in the strained moonlight, when you just ain’t got many options, and holdin’ out made you feel like a steam engine that had all the vents latched up shut. But makin’ a life out of it with women everywhere you looked?

Takes all kinds, I reckon. Get Lea some matchbooks and Stanton a ball cap. Get me a hamburger and a beer at Boone’s. Give Hennie a nice ride soon as I get back, so she don’t run off with our milkman—or boat off, I suppose. Deliah, she don’t need nothin’ but a roof. Little victories.

‘Lea, get up in here and start foldin’ ‘fore I tan that backside!’

Right in my ear while I was mindin’ my own business—almost fell in the damn lake! Scared the beejeezus outta me. That silly boy had him a hotfoot comin’.

‘You know that ain’t funny, Stanton.’ He was peekin’ nothin’ but his head ‘round the corner, grinnin’ ear to ear

‘I suppose we got a difference of opinion on that one, lil’ sis. You better get crackin’ or it’ll be Mama threatenin’ for reals, and I seen her tear into a backside with a switch good.’

‘She ain’t takin’ the jon boat over for a switch.’

‘No, she ain’t, but she also ain’t opposed to havin’ you. Trust me—it’s anything but a leisurely cruise.’

‘Please, they just empty threats nowadays. She got all that out on you and Deliah.’

‘There’s always one left in there to be had if you push it far enough. Get on inside and do your duties.’

Stanton plops down on the edge of the deck next to me, holdin’ that big sugar smile. He got nothin’ but his stained brown skivvies on and you can see the dirt and grass livin’ on his skin. Of course, it wasn’t fair he got to goof off when the lady folk were scrubbin’ socks two at a time.

‘Diver down. Next stop, China, with peace and good will.’ Said it exactly like that alien from that scary a*s movie The Day the Earth Stood Still we saw last year in town for his birthday. Never could get used to what he let fall out of that trap of his. The dummy slips right off the boat into the green water, lockin’ that smile on me the whole time. I swear, he may have even winked right before his yellow head went under. Got me up quick-like, huggin’ my basket. He knows better than to get my books wet. His underwear looks a shade whiter as he swims out through the ripples. At least that’s one piece of laundry we’d be avoidin’.

The Day the Earth Stood StillWe straddle the storm as it makes it this way. It was only early afternoon, but I had curled up in the black sheet that covers the sun pressing a twilight over the water. It was moving fast, just got past the front. I feel the electricity between my legs, hot and alive and scary. It could kill a man trying to pick one more row of cotton or a cow standing stupid in a pasture. Could not kill me. Just one more plaything in my open box.

Together, we’d rushed toward the Cumberlands as they threatened to break us, the fortress of old coal mines in the stone now existed only to slow us down. They were always strong, and the families left stranded that hadn’t died deep inside through the decades counted on those worn battlements to shield them from the strongest beasts of the sky, huddled together between the canned beans and sacks of sorghum on dirt floors. Like a cagey prize fighter, the storm took a few blows but bowled on over down into the valley and the lower hills, gathering back its wind. The thunder settled in my spine, making my teeth chatter as they nipped my tongue.

‘Deliah, get outta that storm and help me close up these windows!’

Sorry, Mama. You would have rode with me if you knew. I follow down the first fat patters on the roof. I dance through the shimmering sheets up above. The lake starts rolling to match my whirling steps. This is the golden time where it all comes together. Sudden flashes announce heaven’s fury. Stirred in my tummy, the sweet energy falls lower as the static builds in the thick air. Another flash explodes inside the house as the thunder c***k scrambles its claws up my back. I close my eyes, slipping into the living room window before Mama slams it shut. Fly through myself as everything rages. Everything folds eternal. Yes.

All three of my young-uns were birthed in this infernal house. In ‘46, when Stanton was comin’, Hank had to drive out to a roadhouse to pick up what passed for the doc. He was still half in the bag by the time they showed up, but Stanton was half out too, so I guess they cancelled each other out. Had him in my arms before doc took a final slug off one of a couple pints of local corn whiskey. Services rendered amounted to cuttin’ the cord with a dull pen knife he pulled out from his back pocket. That boy already had a mop of blond hair and green green eyes like the bottom of a pool below a mountain waterfall on an April day when the sun has just decided to get warm for the first time. Was out lost fraternizin’ with the wild things since he learned to walk and now he was straight and tall and wide in the shoulders. I supposed Hank’s overalls wouldn’t do the trick for much longer—he was bound to shoot right through ‘em on his way to six foot whatever. That boy is gonna be a behemoth with his fine-haired feet hangin’ over the couch and big dirty hands draggin’ on my swept floor.