The Haunting Hour

3. Aganasti Creeks, TN-1

It’d been risin’ now for hours. Ain’t two creeks anymore, just one surgin’ flow, and it’s fightin’ like a hognose snake to take the valley over. Not a month ago they all were down at the store desperate between offerin’ me their most cherished goods or brandishin’ a knife to put through my throat, all the tactics they could muster, beggin’ me to stop the destruction. Those days of kinship and bliss were under the rough cracked wheels of the apple cart now.

Boss Bean, a short, wide man with an even wider sense of importance, who passed for whatever a sleepy town would need in a mayor, had me cornered by the counter sayin’ along with a fair amount of spittle, ‘Ama, you got the power to lead them off. Just start walkin’ and don’t stop till you lead them devils out the state.’

The others chirped behind him as I tried explainin’ to them how I couldn’t leave any more than they could stay. That poor girl Betsy cried till she fainted and knocked over a jar of pickled eggs. Old women and young men were in there cursin’ my family back generations. Did they not realize it’s my blood that pumps through the heart of this place? That we were twisted up like a briar? Few are cursed to not only see their death but be forced to accept it as it creeps over your nose. These people knew that, even though losin’ this place would tear out a piece of their soul, they could move. They had kin all over the Cumberlands. Some of the mines were still producin’. They could find a life again. They could even surrender and head to the city or put in to work for the all-powerful TVA itself.

Some acted like they knew what I can do. Think I’m a pied piper and can just lure the suits to some other low-lyin’ town with a flutter of an eye and a short flower dress. They would just send more, keep comin’ like ants to the sugar cube. It’s a pity—the only time I ever needed to use my power, I come to realizin’ that it wouldn’t make a lick of difference. How could I do that to my husband Trip, anyway? He’s all too aware of what’s there inside me and I knew he wondered if it would help the situation—if I was worth the sacrifice to save it all. So far, his eyes said otherwise. I told them that day at the store and many times thereafter that I could try and delay it, send what men I could to walk aimless through the trees, smitten with glances of my teasin’ form, but wasn’t no stoppin’ it in the end. It was a hellhound train and it was blowin’ right through our piece of paradise.

Trip struggled to load Hennie in the wagon last week, and she cried her little eyes out. We had done agreed to let her, it was more than deserved. I still got damp creases in my dress from where she clinged to it with those precious little fingers, the nails bitten down red to the quick. You try and explain to a young girl her whole world is ending and she will soon travel this life alone. Right before Trip had the horses harnessed up and his dogs rounded up, I sat her down out back below the river birch, and whispered the few secrets she should know. Told her why she had to leave. And why I could not. How I was tied fast to this place by a bond that could not be broken. Hoped she could go forth and learn to live a life removed from the temptation of men and their worldly wares. How she should never start a family when she may have to rip it apart and lose it to forces she could never see comin’ as clear as need be. What little faith I had left was placed in the wish she would heed me and remember.

Come what may, little Hennie, you stand true for me. An understanding I wasn’t expecting never arrived. We could hear those folks that were left pullin’ up their stakes and splashing their way out of the valley while the wheels could still find traction in the ever deepenin’ muck. I knew those quiet, sad voices as my neighbors and friends leavin’ my ears forever. I fought being misty-eyed to protect my girl. It was happenin’ fast now that they had finally sealed both our fates and the concrete wall below us. The men were havin’ to whip the horses for maybe the first time in their lives as even the beasts couldn’t fathom leavin’ a place of such perfection.

Got one round left now. I sure as hell hope it ain’t wet.

I know my darlin’ Ama wanted to let the water take her, but I just couldn’t let it go that way. She was just sittin’ there rockin’ and singin’ in time to the slaps of death risin’ up the walls. She had to push her submerged feet hard to force that rocker through the water to keep the movement goin’, but she wouldn’t let up. Tougher than the nails that kept the wood up and straight. Nails older than both of us put together.

I waited till she was right in the middle of her favorite song. She loved her some Wildwood Flower—she’d sing it over the washtub or hangin’ clothes. We had the record and an old gramophone to play it, but she sang it better. Make your stomach flutter to hear it. Took every bit of grit I had to wade over behind her. I put a shaky, puckered hand on her shoulder and placed a final kiss on the top of her dewy head. I thought right then I might still talk her out of it, drag her outta there just in the nick. Start over where there ain’t no magic, ride the rails to some land neither one of us had ever seen. Take back our daughter and learn how to survive a new way, vulnerable to all.

I could see my own tears fallin’ on her hair as I brought up the pistol. If she heard it c**k, she didn’t let on. Said a quick silent prayer to all the gods that had forsaken us, then gave a sharp pull of the trigger to open the gate to the abyss. Through the ringin’ in my ears, I looked to see if it might’ve blown her right out the rockin’ chair into the water, leave her floatin’ with all the other odds and ends that was meanderin’ about my knees, but she just slumped down a bit, like she had fallen asleep listenin’ to the warblers play in the breeze on a warm afternoon. I wanted to picture her just like that, sleepin’ away, but still a magnet pullin’ on my heart. She was always strongest when she didn’t know. I remember many a day havin’ to shoo the schoolboys from the other side of town away from the open windows, ‘cause she had taken a nap in the sun. Wouldn’t be a strange sight to see their teacher Mr. Willard, a happily married man in his own right, to be right there alongside ‘em. Everyone knew they couldn’t help it. Like moths to a flame, none of us had a chance in hell and now there weren’t no chances left. I lifted her out the chair and held her the best I could, picking up the rest of that song. Placed her head gently on my shoulder, ‘cause I didn’t want to see her face.

‘Oh, he taught me to love him and call me her flower,

‘Oh, he taught me to love him and call me her flower,That was blooming to cheer him through life’s dreary hour.

That was blooming to cheer him through life’s dreary hour.Oh, I long to see him and regret the dark hour

Oh, I long to see him and regret the dark hourHe’s gone and neglected his pale wildwood flower.’

He’s gone and neglected his pale wildwood flower.’Felt like the water was making us sway, one last dance for this world.

I’m sorry, Hennie—listen to what your Mama said, but you’re gonna have to find your own way from here on. Mine is following her. Ain’t a thing I can do about it either. Even in death, she’s the force I must adhere to.

I got the g*n up flush to my temple now. Don’t be wet. Please don’t.

I loved you. I loved us. I loved everything.

My wildwood flower.

Oh, I heard Daddy talkin’ to Mrs. Dripp after he had pulled my trunk out the wagon—talkin’ like I wasn’t there. Guess that’s what a heavy heart will do. I knew better than to scratch and yell about gettin’ left here.

‘It was what it was,’ Daddy said about a dozen times as we took them switchbacks outta the valley up to Mrs. Dripp’s place. I remember my ears poppin’ as Daddy went on about how the world was bigger than anybody or any family and that there were better places for us beyond this.

‘You mean up at Mrs. Dripp’s?’ I knew he was talkin’ about heaven or something like it, but I just needed him to look at me to break up his mumblin’.

‘Nah, Hennie, there are other worlds and other lives. Next time, we gonna make things right for all of us and we’re gonna have our little piece of paradise again. But this time it’ll be forever.’

What he was ramblin’ about, that was heaven. I wasn’t one not to believe in the Almighty, though Mama sure didn’t give it two shakes, but when all you saw was a muddy track up the side of a brown mountain that hadn’t sniffed spring and was all thick with wet clouds, and you were leavin’ all the beauty you had ever known, heaven sure don’t seem to be in the direction you’re headin’. We rolled up around dusk, but when it’s that bleak out the day just falls right off the cliff into night. Mrs. Dripp was holdin’ a lantern and didn’t look too happy to be out in this weather, nor was she too giddy about receivin’ us.

‘So, this is little Hennie then?’ Mrs. Dripp looked right through my eyes and I don’t recall seein’ much sympathy in hers.

‘Yes, ma’am, this be her. I’m her daddy Trip Mason. I’m sure you read in our letter she is a good girl and went this long without seeing much evil in the world. Guess you could say the evil done caught up for it in spades now.’

I climbed off the wagon and right off got dizzy lookin’ down at the hollers hidden on either side of us. Hundreds of bare trees tall as all get out lookin’ to peek out from the gray blanket.

‘Wel,l she will have a respite from that business while she’s under my roof, that I can assure you, sir.’ Only a little later did I discover how far under that roof she was referrin’.

‘Again, as you may recall from our correspondence, I don’t expect you to lend much credence to the reasonin’ behind it, but I will implore you to keep Hennie away from any menfolk that happen to be travelin’ through. We got a bit of history on her mamma’s side and it’s best for everyone if she never does get mixed up with a fella.’

‘Not to worry. I will personally make sure she has nothing but a virtuous experience until she comes of age.’

‘Well, I was lookin’ more long term than that, ma’am.’