Authors: Olive Ann Burns
He didn't say anything for a minute, or her, either. I reckon they were kissing. Then he went on. "I figgered if'n I could jest git you sewed up, I could do the courtin' later. But I knowed I'd have to make it worth yore while, me bein' old and all the talk and scandal of it. Took me bout two minutes to decide you'd go against age and custom both for something big as a house."
She giggled, a little self-conscious. "I think I'd have done it for the piano."
"The pi-ana cinched it. Then two days later here come Mr. Texas. It like to kilt me, seein' you was still in love with him."
I heard Grandpa get up. from the cot and start pacing the floor. When he stopped, he breathed a long sigh that trembled in the night air. "Stealin' Mary Willis's trip to New York City was a selfish thang I done."
Miss Love plain admitted that it was her fault. "I thought Mary Willis had definitely decided not to go. I—"
"Lord hep me, when I seen you wanted to go so bad, all I could think was up there in New York I'd have you to myself, with nobody around to cast looks, and maybe—"
"I'm beginning to hate myself, Mr. Blakeslee."
"For marryin' me?"
"For not guessing how you felt about me. I never even suspected it till we got to New York."
"I didn't know you caught on then, Miss Love."
"I didn't want you to know it."
"You might near as good a actress as Loma. I thought I'd jest lost the hang a-courtin'."
She didn't answer that. "Mr. Blakeslee, if you'd said you loved me when you proposed, I wouldn't have married you. I had decided never to marry ... for reasons I can't speak of. For reasons no man would want to marry me. But you said—"
"They cain't be no reason any man wouldn't be proud to marry you, Miss Love."
"But you said you just wanted a housekeeper, Mr. Blakeslee. You don't know how I had longed for—prayed for—what you offered. A home, and to belong to a good, decent family. It was as if God had finally figured out a way to give it to me."
"Hit warn't God figgered it out, Love. Hit was me. And now I'm astin' you to be my wife." When she didn't answer, he said, "You cain't say you don't care for me."
"Of course I care for you, sir. But not like—that. I'm sorry."
"Thet ain't what yore arms said or yore lips said when I was a-kissin' you."
"I ... I got carried away."
"Ain't gittin' carried away part a-what lovin' is?"
"You don't understand." She spoke stiff and formal. "Loving—being a wife—that door is closed to me. After Mr. McAllister, I promised God."
There was an awful silence. Then Grandpa exploded. "Promised God or promised yoreself? Gosh a'mighty, woman, God don't ast for no sech a promise!"
"It was the only way I could find peace. And now I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'm tired.... Mr. Blakeslee, please go to bed."
"What you and somebody else done, Love, thet's over with now. Same as my life with Miss Mattie Lou is over with—and thet hand I ain't got no more. Everwhat you done cain't be no worse than me lovin' you whilst I sat by her deathbed. But ain't no point in me givin' you up, now thet she cain't git hurt. And ain't no point in you messin' up what you and me could have jest cause you and thet dang Mr. Texas—"
"It wasn't him." Her whisper was so weak I barely heard. "But don't ask me to talk about it. Clayt couldn't take the knowledge. You couldn't, either."
"You told him what you won't tell me?"
"Yes. I thought"—she sounded about to cry—"I thought I shouldn't have any secrets from the man I was about to marry. I thought if Clayt really loved me.... How stupid I was!" I wondered if she meant stupid to tell him or stupid to think he wouldn't mind. "He'd thought I was so pure. Not like the others. You understand
pure,
Mr. Blakeslee? Undefiled?"
Silence.
"Defiled cain't be the right word for you, Love. Or don't them Methodist preachers talk none bout a forgivin' God? Ain't you heard how Jesus said go and sin no more? He didn't say go waller in yore sin!"
"I hadn't sinned."
Silence.
"Miss Love, you don't make no sense a-tall. Not to me. Ifn you ain't sinned, how come all this here talk bout you ain't pure no more?"
"Sh-h-h, you're talking loud, Mr. Blakeslee." And she lowered her own voice. "I can only say that Clayt ... right after I told Mr. McAllister, he talked just like you. Said it didn't matter. But—well, as you know, he finally broke the engagement. And you'd want to get out of being married to me, too, Mr. Blakeslee, if I told you."
"Then, gosh a-mighty, woman, don't tell me! I don't give a good doggone and I don't want to hear bout it. I jest want you to be my wife."
"No, no, please. Please, Mr. Blakeslee, don't touch me. Go back to bed. Please...."
I snored softly as I heard Grandpa's hand on the doorknob.
I heard her whisper, "But I ... I can't bear for you to think—I mean, what happened wasn't—I mean, I couldn't help what happened."
His hand left the doorknob. "Then it must a-been somebody you loved."
"Y-yes." She was crying.
"Well, dang it, why didn't you marry him? Good gosh a'mighty, Miss Love, are you sayin' you got mixed up with a married man?"
"It still wasn't my fault! But I thought you didn't care!"
"I don't! Livin' a lie like I done, I ain't got no call to th'ow no stones. And I ain't astin' are you pure. But I know I cain't stand it if'n you go'n hold a married man up in front a-me like a pitcher for the rest a-my life, sayin' I got to look at you and him. I ain't your Mr. Texas, but I cain't take it if'n you go'n dish out little bitty hints bout it ever time yore conscience starts to hurt. Thet'd keep me wonderin' and maybe jealous. God A'mighty, Miss Love, forgit all thet and jest let me love you and make you happy!" His whispered voice was angry. "Why'd you have to raise this up from the dead, anyhow? You go'n put the past on and wear it like sackcloth and ashes the rest a-yore days?"
Miss Love was crying. "Please, Mr. B-Blakeslee! Be fair. This wouldn't have c-come up if you had let me stay what I agreed to be. Just your h-housekeeper."
Grandpa left the room before Miss Love finished the word
housekeeper.
Came out and shut the door. I knew by the harsh breathing that he was furious. On the other side of the door, Miss Love laid down on the cot and muffled her crying in the pillow. I didn't see how in the world Grandpa could walk out on her like that.
He started to pace the floor, but the boards creaked and I reckon he was scared he'd wake me up. Shivering, he jerked his spiffy new suit coat off the back of the chair, put it around him, and stood at the window in the moonlight, trying to get aholt of himself. Every minute or so he'd scratch his head like he had cooties worse than Hosie Roach.
I must of dozed off, but I waked with a start when he turned the doorknob by my head and went back in there. I reckon Miss Love was too tired to get up. She whispered, "Go on to bed, Mr. Blakes-lee. There's nothing more to say. I'll deed back the house and leave Cold Sassy soon as I can arrange it. Then you can get an annulment and marry that other lady."
"What you talkin' bout?" he whispered back. "What dang other lady?"
"You said there was one other woman in Cold Sassy you thought you could stand if I—"
"Oh, thet. I jest made her up—like a good salesman makes up thet somebody else is waitin' with the money if'n you don't take what he's sellin'. Miss Love, after all I done told you tonight, don't you know they ain't nobody in the world I want to live with cept you? Doggit, woman, I love you!"
And then he went down on the cot with her and they were kissing again.
At some point amid the sighs and moans and murmurs, Miss Love pulled away and whispered, "It was my...." Her voice was shaking so I couldn't hear the word she said.
Grandpa didn't either. "What'd you say?"
"It was m-my f-f-father. My father. I said it was my f-father, Mr. Blakeslee!"
"You mean—?" He got up off the bed, and she did, too. "God A'mighty! Miss Love, you ain't got no call to tell me a thang like thet!" She couldn't talk for crying. "Sh-h-h-h," Grandpa whispered. "Sh-h-h-h. Hit don't matter now. Sh-h-h...."
"Don't shush me. It does m-matter. And I'm ... I'm g-going to stop cr-crying and tell you everything. Sir, please, don't s-say hush."
And she got aholt of herself and she talked. And she talked and talked. Talked low and fast. "No matter what you say, Mr. Blakeslee, you won't want me for a wife. It's too—awful. But I'm going to tell you. When I finish, maybe you'll pity me or maybe you'll be sick of me, but at least you'll know I couldn't help it. Maybe you won't ... be angry." Her voice shook so at first that she was hard to understand, but she got out that it happened when she was twelve years old.
"You don't have to tell me, Miss Love," Grandpa protested.
"I do have to. So don't interrupt."
I doubted she remembered that I was just two feet away, and I forgot about trying to sound asleep. But they wouldn't of noticed if I'd started banging on the wall.
"We lived in three rooms upstairs in somebody's house. I had a little cot like this one, in a small room next to what we used as a sitting room. Their bed was in the sitting room. Mama had heart trouble, Mr. Blakeslee. Everybody knew she was dying, and the lady and man downstairs helped her all they could. They had gone somewhere that night—I'm sure it wouldn't have happened if they'd been home. Well, I woke up when Father came in drunk, as usual, and I heard Mama coughing and crying. She asked him for some water, but, Mr. Blakeslee, Father just laughed. Laughed!"
"Don't, Miss Love—"
She didn't hear him. Her voice had got mechanical, like she was reciting a story she'd read in the newspaper—one that didn't have anything to do with her. "After Mama's coughing subsided, she said, 'Timothy, when I'm gone, you will take care of Love, won't you?' I'd heard her say that sort of thing many times, and it always made him mad. I just thought he never wanted her to talk about dying, as if it wouldn't happen if she didn't say the words. But that night he suddenly screamed a man's name at her. 'He's her daddy, tell him to take care of her!'
"There was an awful silence, and then Mama said, 'Hush! Love might hear you. And you know it's not so, Timothy. He married somebody else, remember? Years before I even met you!' Father said that didn't prove a thing. He was so drunk, Mr. Blakeslee. He cursed and said, 'We were married exactly one week, Cleo, when you called me his name! I won't ever forget that.' Mama said it didn't mean she'd been seeing him, but Father wasn't listening. He said, 'You were carrying his baby. Admit it. Why else would you have married a man like me?' She was crying, but she got out something like 'God help me, I didn't know what you were like! But as God is my witness, I was not pregnant!' Father just laughed. 'Why was she born in eight months? Answer me that.' He shouted at her like she was deaf. 'She is his child. Ain't she?'"
"Hesh up, Miss Love," Grandpa pleaded. "You don't have to—"
"I have to. Mama was crying and went into the most awful fit of coughing, but he just cursed her. It was awful, listening to them. Then I heard Father stagger towards my room, yelling, 'By God, I'll show you what I think the truth is!' As he came in where I was, he was still yelling at Mama. I'll never forget his words. 'Would a man kill his own flesh and blood, Cleo?' I heard her scream, and I screamed. I tried to get under the cot, but he caught my arm. Then he said, 'Aw, she's too pretty just to kill! Cleo? Listen to me. Would I take my own daughter? No, by God. But, by God, I can take another man's daughter!'"
Miss Love's voice sunk to an awful whisper. "And then he—he raped me! Raped me, Mr. Blakeslee! I tried to fight him off, but he—"
Grandpa must of started shaking her. "I hear you, Miss Love! Don't say thet word agin!"
"The whole time, he was screaming, 'You know what I'm doing in here, Cleo?' But she didn't answer. Finally he left. Stumbled down the stairs and went away. When I got to Mama, she was on the floor in the hall, unconscious. I held her for what seemed like hours. When the people who lived below came home, they got the doctor."
She sighed a long sigh. "Mama had been trying to get to me, but she passed out. We talked about it later, she and I. She said I had two choices. I could dwell on this the rest of my life—let it make me scared of everybody and bitter against Father—or I could forgive him and put my hand in God's and live my life. Something she said.... Well, I realized Mama didn't know he had....I realized she hadn't heard anything after he screamed would a man kill his own flesh and blood. So I never told her what really happened. She had suffered enough. But all the years after, I never forgot what she said about forgiving him. And I thought I had. I even got over feeling defiled—till I told Clayt and he did what he did. So, Mr. Blakeslee, now you know. You don't have to wonder. Just accept that I was defiled and hate it and I can never be anybody's wife. I don't even want to ... be a wife. I'll leave Cold Sassy as soon as I can."
Grandpa's voice was hoarse. "Hit don't make no difference, Miss Love."
"I believed Mr. McAllister when he said that. Never again.... Leave me alone, Mr. Blakeslee! Go to bed and leave me alone!"
"Damnit, woman! Damnit, I.... Where's yore daddy now?"
"I don't know. Died drunk, probably. We never saw him again. He didn't come to Mama's funeral."
There was absolute silence in that room then, except they were both breathing hard. I thought sure Grandpa would try to comfort her. Make her see how much he loved her, how nothing mattered now except to forget all that and let him take care of her. Maybe he would have, but she said to him in a voice cold as metal, "
I said leave me alone!
" And he did.
Grandpa stalked out, shut the door, and stood there by the bed, shaking. I never saw him madder. I watched as he tiptoed over to the chest, raised the lid, pulled out a quilt, wrapped it around him. He stood by the window for the longest kind of a time, then knelt down by the windowsill and covered his face with his hand. Grandpa was crying, but he didn't make a sound except a hoarse gasp when he had to breathe. At some point I knew he had gone to praying.