The Ghost of Tillie Jean Cassaway (4 page)

“I should have brought Hilary to fish,” he thought. But then, would it have happened? Shivering, he stared at the remaining papers on which he had tried to paint the water and its reflections and the fish jumping, but did not really see his work. He was still seeing, in his mind, the face and floating hair.

Hunger, however, soon brought him back and he ate sandwiches his mother had packed. In the afternoon, he walked along the river and fished some more, but the fish he caught were so small he had to throw them back.

He came back to the rock and painted some more, enjoying the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. It was a whole new world to paint. All the shades of color had changed, were still changing. Although he kept looking, he didn't see the face again.

He began thinking about Craig's Island and how it would be to have a whole island to yourself and only a shaky bridge to reach it. Willy thought that might be nice and he wondered what old man Craig was like. They said he was mean as a rattlesnake. Willy wondered if living alone meant you had to be mean. He felt sort of lonely now, by himself with only his thoughts and no one to tell them to. Maybe he should walk to Holmans Hollow. He'd never been there. He could go down the hill and through the little hollow and take the lane that led to Holmans Hollow and walk up the road a ways. That wouldn't do any harm. He took his art things and his picture and put them away carefully in the plastic, strapping them to the bike. Then he began his walk.

CHAPTER SIX

Hilary and Granny Barbour finished their chores and set off for Holmans Hollow in Granny's battered red pickup truck. They drove through Mauvy and out Narrow Street to where the pavement ended and the gravel road ran along beside the tracks. They turned up Holmans Hollow Road and rattled along on deep ruts until they came to a small, grey, unpainted house.

“Who lives here, Granny?” asked Hilary.

“The Moffit sisters. Pearly Everlasting and Sarsaparilla.”

“I've heard of them. Miss Pearly Moffit comes to Reed Store sometimes. She walks.”

“Sometimes Day Baker brings her in,” said Granny. “He lives on up the road a bit and always has some vehicle for transportation. He's right good with cars.”

“Don't Miss Sarsaparilla ever go nowhere? They say she's a witch.”

“She's a wee bit queer but no harm in her, Hilary. Let's see if we can rouse 'em.”

The house was circled by flowering bushes. Masses of pansies, marigolds, and nasturtiums huddled up against warped porch steps. Crowded on the narrow porch were rows of potted plants on wooden benches.

“There they are … out back,” said Hilary as her grandmother started to knock.

“Oh, in the garden,” said Granny. “Hello, Pearly! Yoo hoo! Pearly! It's Nellie Barbour!”

One of the two women who had been bending over a row of cabbages started toward the visitors. She was a short woman with a big bosom covered with a print dress that buttoned down the front and came almost to her ankles. She had dark hair pulled back in a knot. Her face beamed.

“Lawzy, look who's here! Miz Barbour, you ain't been to see us in a long time. This one of Hank's young'uns?”

“This is Hilary. How are you all doing?”

“Oh, we get by. Sarsaparilla, come on up here and see Miz Barbour!”

The other woman, wearing a long black skirt, white blouse, and an apron made from a gaily-colored feed sack, came and stood silently behind her sister. She was a tall, angular woman. Her black eyes smiled and her lips twitched as though she couldn't hold them still.

“Don't want to keep you from your garden,” said Granny.

“Oh, it'll keep. Visitors don't come often,” said Miss Pearly.

They went inside. Miss Sarsaparilla kept smiling and moving her lips and nodding her head, but she said nothing.

Hilary watched Miss Sarsaparilla while her grandmother and Miss Pearly talked about the garden and the river and the flowers and families. The gaunt, silent figure kept giving her quick little twitchy smiles. Granny finally worked the talk around to the death of Tillie Jean Cassaway.

“Oh, it was the saddest thing,” said Miss Pearly. “You know what happened is that the child was playing on the rocks and her doll fell in and she must have tried to reach it and slipped herself and drowned in the river. The saddest thing. The Cassaways couldn't stand it there no more, they left. But she's a-buried there.”

“I've heard stories,” said Granny.

“About Tillie Jean being seen around? That's old man Craig a-talkin'.”

“He didn't start it,” said Miss Sarsaparilla in a high, childish voice. Hilary jumped. She thought the woman could not speak.

“Well, he's the one that's got people believing it,” said Miss Pearly, as though her sister had been in the conversation all along. “Now I ain't one to think too much about ghosts. There may be such things and there mayn't. But it's not meant for us to know what happens to the spirit after death. I think people keep their minds on it, they going to see and hear things that will scare them. But you don't think about it … then there's nothing to it.”

“Well,” she continued. “You know Babe … the Larson's son what ain't right. He has this imaginary friend, like young'uns do, you know. He's come in and told his ma about his friend who plays with him in the woods. He said she had long hair and was nice. His ma said no children been around there. You know, they're afraid of Babe, he being big as a man, they don't know how to take him, but Babe, he keeps talking about his friend with the long hair. Well, there's been talk for more than a year about Tillie Jean not lying in her grave but getting up and walking around and calling out for her folks. Superstitious hill talk, I lay it up to. But Miz Larson, she said, ‘Morton Craig saw Babe and me one day by the river and told us that Tillie Jean Cassaway's spirit was in the river and that she got lonesome and came up to see people once in awhile.' Course, Babe didn't know what he was talking about anymore than any four-year-old would, even though he's 20. But he remembered the name of Tillie Jean and now he calls his ‘friend' that. Now other people are saying they seen Tillie Jean. I think its mostly in their minds.”

“We just wondered,” said Granny. “Morton saw Hilary riding her bike and scared her with stories. So I thought I'd ask. I felt the need of a little visiting, just setting and talking to people. I ain't got away from my place for too long. And Hilary's never met you folks … her ma won't let her come out this way alone.”

“Well, of course not, what with them old moonshiners scarin' people away, not to mention ghosts. And Morton Craig being so unfriendly.… He don't want nobody on his island! But everybody up this way ain't so mean and we ain't all haunted. I'm glad you come and brung the little girl.”

Miss Sarsaparilla grinned and bobbed her head as they took their leave. They were almost out of earshot when that lady called out in a high, screechy voice, “There's a mess of berries at the Cassaway place!”

“What's that?” called Granny Barbour.

“There's blackberries at the Cassaway place!”

“Oh! Thank you, bye now!” said Granny. “Now to the Larsons. Don't be afraid of Babe, Hilary. He's gentle.”

They drove past several houses and up a steep incline and stopped in front of a neat stone cottage. A big man in blue bib coveralls stood on the porch.

“Hello, Babe, is your ma about?” asked Granny Barbour.

The man stared at them a moment with his mouth open, then ran into the house shouting, “Ma! Ma!”

“What's the matter with him?” asked Hilary.

“His brain never developed proper, so he's like a four-year-old.”

A white-haired, pink-cheeked woman came to the door. “Nellie Barbour, I declare! Come on in!”

Again Hilary had to sit through a half hour of talk about tomatoes and peas and things. She asked to go outside. The house was small and, like most houses in the hollow, surrounded by flowers. It was right on the edge of the woods and there was a small shed full of firewood and coal in the back. Tall sunflowers edged a weed-free vegetable garden. Near it was a pump where the family drew well water. Nobody had plumbing in Holmans Hollow.

She found Babe sitting and playing with a little red car near the shed. “Babe,” she said, “I'm Hilary.”

The man who was like a child turned his big, freckled face upward. At first he looked afraid and began edging away. But as Hilary stood there smiling, his face broke into a happy grin and he patted the ground near him, indicating that he wanted her to sit down. He held out the little car in his huge hand. Hilary took it and sat down beside him. Although she was much smaller than Babe, she felt years older.

“Babe, do you know Tillie Jean?”

“Tillie!” he said, his voice soft. “Me love Tillie Jean.”

“Where
is
Tillie?”

“Tillie … Tillie in woods! Come!” He grabbed Hilary's arms and pulled her up and toward the woods.

Hilary pulled away but could not get loose from Babe's hand, so she stumbled after him. “Babe, where are we going?”

“I show you Tillie!” They went deeper into the woods and finally stopped at a great tree stump that had a little clearing around it.

“I don't see no one,” said Hilary.

“Shh,” Babe said softly. He sat down on the edge of the stump, his face anxious and still. Hilary looked all around her but could see only trees and brush. “Let's go back, Babe … please?” She held out her hands to the huge child.

He refused to take her hand. “See Tillie!”

“She's not here today … she probably won't come because she don't know me,” said Hilary. “Come.…” She stopped as she heard a sound—somewhere near—like the crackling of branches. Her eyes were drawn into the darkness of the woods. There was a rustling of leaves. Babe seemed to stop breathing and held perfectly still.

“Tillie!” he cried.

Hilary saw her then, near the edge of the clearing. A girl with long red hair, half covering her pale, white face. A faded, torn dress hung over her knees. She wore no shoes. For an instant, green eyes met Hilary's blue ones in a locked stare. Hilary had had the same experience once when she had come face to face with a young deer while playing in a field near a woods. After an instant, the girl disappeared, just as the deer had done.

“Tillie, come back! Tillie!” shouted Babe, running after her. Hilary was trembling. She had
seen
her … seen Tillie Jean Cassaway. Babe returned to the clearing, alone, eyes full of tears. “Tillie go!” he said.

Hilary kept looking behind her into the trees as the sobbing Babe led her back to the house.

Granny Barbour was coming out to look for Hilary when her granddaughter came running up to the porch. “Granny, I saw her! I saw Tillie Jean!”

“Where?”

“In the woods … Babe took me!”

“Well, I never in my life seen a ghost. What'd she look like?”

“Oh, pale, thin! And she just disappeared before my eyes!”

“Probably some animal,” said Mrs. Larson.

“No, a girl!”

Mrs. Larson laughed.

“Granny, you believe me?”

“Well, Hilary, I'd like to see this ghost. Would you like to come back and go berry picking with me tomorrow? We don't have time today.”

“Back here?”

“We could see if there really is a mess of berries at the Cassaway place, like Miss Sarsaparilla says.”

“To … to the Cassaway place?”

“Em hmm.”

“I'm scared.”

“You were scared of the people at Holmans Hollow, too.”

“Yes, but I'd heard tales.”

“Well, I know these woods. I know these parts. The river, the creeks, the hollows, the roads, and the people. I've lived around here all my life, Hilary. The Cassaway place is just something left, like a dead tree on the ground. It will crumble and go back to the earth. That's what we all do … crumble and go back to the earth. Tillie Jean Cassaway too.”

“What about going to Heaven?”

“Emmmm.”

“The preacher says we're gonna rise up out of the grave at resurrection time and go up to Heaven.”

“Well, it ain't resurrection time yet.”

“Granny?”

“Hmm?”

“If you die when you're real old, will you be real old when you rise up on resurrection day?”

“Lordy, Hilary, I don't know. Ask the preacher.”

“He says these things are beyond our understanding but that the Lord will reveal it.”

“That's right.”

“I can't help wondering. It's amazing to me that all the crumbled bodies will rise up whole. Will the ugly ones still be ugly?”

“Hilary, you think too much.”

“My teacher don't think so. Says I ask too many questions.”

They walked awhile, silent, Hilary still thinking. Then Hilary said, “But everybody don't go to Heaven. There's the bad place.”