Weeping Willow Read online

  “Oh,” I said, but I didn’t remember anybody in band except Bobby Lynn and Mr. Gillespie.

  Bobby Lynn was wearing a summer dress and sandals, because it was still as warm as summer, and I learned that day that even though her mama worked at the Black Gap Style Shoppe, she didn’t give a squeak who wore what when.

  “Hey, Bobby Lynn,” everybody called as we walked down the hall together. You could measure a person’s popularity by the number of heys she got, because the morning hey was designed to pay homage. It seemed everybody knew and liked Bobby Lynn, and she was with me! We went out to the front campus, where I met Rosemary Layne. She was tall and dark, in contrast to me and Bobby Lynn. She had very large gray eyes and the longest, thickest lashes I ever saw. She was slender and elegant in a simple blue sheath. She was also warm and friendly.

  “Hey, Tiny,” she said sweetly, smiling. “Sit here by me.”

  I was surprised she knew my name. In fact I was surprised at nearly everything that morning. Somebody had actually hey’d me in the hall, and now somebody else was inviting me to sit with her. It seemed Tiny Lambert, who never had a real friend in her life, suddenly had friends coming after her! Did I have a sign on my back—PLEASE LOVE ME—or something?

  Oh, well, I thought, as I perched on the rail fence between Bobby Lynn and Rosemary, they won’t like me when they get to know me. Nobody ever does. But Aunt Evie’s story about Lila’s beautiful baby flashed through my mind. Maybe I would give it a chance. “I am a very nice person,” I said to myself emphatically.

  What followed was the Black Gap High School morning ritual. It went like this: first you perched on the fence for a while and watched other people strolling by. Then you strolled by the others while they perched and watched you. Sometimes you stopped to chat while you were strolling. The boys stayed perched in clusters here and there, but they could stroll, too, if they wanted.

  Strolling and perching went on for a while, then all too soon the bell rang and it was time for homeroom. Bobby Lynn and Rosemary were in two of my other classes—English and history. I hadn’t even noticed them the day before. Sixth period, I went flying up the stairs with my clarinet knocking against my knees. I opened the door to the band room, and there he was!

  Mr. Gillespie looked right at me and said, “Hello.”

  I swallowed hard.

  The music he handed out was “The Thunderer,” and he walked in front of me, close enough that I could have reached out and touched one of his arms if I had wanted real bad to make a fool of myself.

  Playing with the high school band for the first time thrilled me right down to my toes. There was a rich vibrant energy that I had never felt when I played with the beginners’ band. Bobby Lynn and Rosemary felt it, too, and we played from the heart. Mr. Gillespie grinned like a pleased pup.

  “I’ll have to say it,” he said when we finished “The Thunderer.” “That was wonderful. I never expected you to be so good.”

  Even the seasoned upperclassmen bubbled over with pride and joy.

  “He didn’t know hillbillies could play like that,” Jimmy Ted O’Quinn, always the clown, bellowed.

  We all laughed. It was a special moment.

  “Well, I must be in hillbilly heaven!” Mr. Gillespie responded. “Again! From the top!”

  And he raised those arms.

  Bobby Lynn, Rosemary, and I played the third and fourth clarinet parts while the upperclassmen played first and second. I decided I was going to be the best clarinet player Mr. Gillespie had ever heard. I planned to practice an hour a day, and two hours a day on weekends. My goal was to move up to first chair in one year.

  I got my band uniform after school and carried it home on the bus. It was royal blue with a gold stripe up the leg and gold braids on the shoulders. Everybody on the bus had to admire and touch it, and at home the kids couldn’t keep their grimy hands to themselves. So I hid my uniform way back in the closet.

  I went outside to see Nessie, and she was waiting for me with her long bushy tail swishing, and her beautiful face pushed against the wire fence. I sat and told her all about my day at school. She was a good listener.

  It was after six when Vern came home in his loud and obnoxious stage. He yelled up the stairs for Mama to come down; he had something to tell her. Beau, Luther, Phyllis, and I gathered around the kitchen table, silent and expectant. Mama appeared in her ratty housecoat, her brown hair standing straight up and her eyes all puffy from sleep. She looked awful.

  “It’s Maw,” Vern said. “She’s real bad off, and she wants to see the young’uns.”

  “Oh,” Mama said.

  “So git your clothes on!” Vern yelled. “And let’s go.”

  “Can’t she wait till tomorrow?”

  That was a silly question and everybody knew it. When Vern’s mama wanted something, she wanted it right now. She was always threatening to die on us, and she almost did die during the summer. We couldn’t afford to take her threats lightly.

  “Just get dressed, and shut up!” Vern said.

  Mama was aggravated. I could tell she would rather be skinned alive than go see Maw Mullins, but she said nothing. She went up to her bedroom.

  Vern turned to me.

  “Tiny, you stay here and fix supper.”

  I knew that was coming. Maw Mullins never wanted me near her. I had four counts against me: (1) I was illegitimate; (2) I was female; (3) I was a Lambert; and (4) I had none of her blood in me. I was useless. But I didn’t care. I never did like Maw Mullins, and I felt sorry for Beau and Luther the way she drooled over them. They didn’t like her either. She didn’t have much use for Phyllis because she was not a boy.

  Mama came back in an almost clean dress, and her hair was plastered down.

  “Just fry some taters, Tiny, and heat up the ham,” she said to me. “There’s corn bread in the Frigidaire.”

  Mama was always putting things in the refrigerator to keep the bugs out of them.

  “We’ll be back directly,” she said.

  The kids didn’t even pretend to wash their faces or comb their hair, and nobody seemed to notice. They were barefooted, too, and it was getting nippy outside, but nobody noticed that either. They all piled in the pickup, ready to drive to Loggy Bottom, about sixteen miles up the river. I stood in the doorway trying to look solemn until they were out of sight. I was glad to be rid of them.

  I took my clarinet into the kitchen and started my hour of practice. I squeaked a lot because my reed was bad, and I got tired of practicing real quick. After only twenty minutes I was making excuses for not practicing anymore, and I quit.

  I went out on the porch and sat in the swing. The light was leaving the holler fast, but I could still see the road winding between the hills up toward Ruby Mountain.

  Our neighbors were having supper. I could smell cabbage and pork, and somebody was frying onions. I could hear Cecil laughing, and his little sisters were squealing. I could hear spoons clanging against dishes.

  Suddenly I thought about how much my life had changed in just two days. I was in love with Mr. Gillespie and I was a member of the high school band with a uniform and everything. I had two friends, and two pairs of school shoes, and we were getting a telephone.

  This is nice, too, I thought, just sitting here in the twilight by myself and listening and smelling good smells.

  I began to sing:

  Come home, come home, it’s supper time,

  The shadows lengthen fast.

  Come home, come home, it’s supper time,

  We’re going home at last.

  I sang about ten more songs, enjoying myself immensely. After a while I went in to fix supper, still singing. I peeled and fried the potatoes and set the ham and corn bread in the oven, but I wouldn’t turn on the heat until everybody came home. I decided to open a can of peaches for dessert. Then all I could do was wait. I sat down at the kitchen table, propped my history book in front of me, and started studying. But I couldn’t keep Mr. Gillespie out of my hea
d.

  We are coming up the holler in Mr. Gillespie’s car —a red Chevy convertible. His coat is all wrapped around me and it smells like Old Spice. Suddenly, bam! Blowout. I am thrown against him. We can travel no farther.

  “Oh, my dear,” he says to me. “Forgive me for placing you in this trying predicament.”

  I turn to him slowly and the moonlight …

  My face settled onto my history book as I drifted away.

  SIX

  I woke up with a start, my face numb. I sensed the lateness of the hour. Vern was standing in the kitchen doorway perfectly still, his face ashen.

  “What is it?” I mumbled in confusion.

  “She died,” he said.

  “Who? What! Maw Mullins is dead?”

  “She died at 9:34 p.m. Eastern Standard Time,” he said.

  I never knew I could feel sorry for Vern. It was a brand-new sensation. He looked like a big kid standing there and I think he wanted to cry, but he didn’t remember how. I got up and walked over to him.

  “I’m awful sorry, Vern,” I said, my voice cracking.

  “Yeah, well …”

  He just stood there, looking forlorn.

  “Where’s Mama?” I asked.

  “Paw asked her to stay and take care of the arrangements. And the young’uns went to sleep.”

  “Well, are you hungry?”

  “No, just put everything away, Tiny. I’m going to have a drink.”

  Vern moved to the cabinet and took out a bottle of bourbon. He poured a jelly glass half-full and filled it up the rest of the way with water. Then he took his drink, walked out on the front porch, and sat down in the swing.

  I set the potatoes and ham and peaches in the refrigerator and went upstairs. I put on my pajamas, then pulled down the windows because the night air was chilly. I was tired and fell asleep without even thinking again of Mr. Gillespie or of Maw Mullins.

  I don’t know how long I slept when suddenly I came awake with a start. Something had jolted me, but I wasn’t sure what. Next I was aware of a smell—bourbon. I turned my head slowly, and there was Vern sitting on the side of my bed.

  “Don’t be scared,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  “What d’you want?” I said.

  “I just want to touch you.”

  I scooted backward to the other side of the bed.

  “You better go on now, Vern,” I said, trying to sound calm.

  He put out a hand toward me and I slipped to the floor opposite him. We looked at each other in the darkness. He was wheezing.

  “Come on, Tiny,” Vern finally said, and started crawling drunkenly across my bed toward me. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I flew around the end of the bed and out of the room. Vern had no reflexes left at all. I was down the stairs when I heard him call my name.

  I groped my way through the living room in the dark and crawled behind the couch. Only then did I realize I was shaking all over. I hunkered down and hugged my knees against my chest.

  “Tiny!”

  He was at the top of the stairs. I held my breath. I heard nothing for a long time, and I imagined him standing in the dark listening. I began to breathe again very softly, my heart flying. Then I heard uneven footsteps going down the hall. Maybe he was going to bed. I sat there on the hard floor until my behind was numb and I had to move. I crawled out slowly, not making a sound. Then I crept up the stairs, and to my relief I could hear Vern snoring from his bedroom.

  I tiptoed to my room, closed my door, propped a chair under the doorknob, and crawled under the covers, shivering. I slept only in bits and pieces the rest of the night, and dreamed of Willa. I woke up early thinking of her for the first time in a very long time.

  I decided to go to school as usual, even though Mama would wonder what in the world I was thinking of to go to school at such a time. She would want me at home to help out. But I didn’t want to be alone with Vern, not ever again. And if I stayed, I would have to be alone with him until he went back up to Loggy Bottom. It didn’t matter if Mama got mad at me, I was going to school. And I knew I could never tell Mama what happened. It would kill her.

  I washed, dressed, and combed my hair. I thought my face looked paler and plainer than usual. I went quietly down the stairs with my books and my clarinet. The house seemed cold and cluttered and very, very lonely. Then I slipped out the door.

  I was the first one at the bus stop, and Cecil was surprised to see me when he came out.

  “Hey, Tiny, you’re awful early.”

  I didn’t say anything. I glanced up at my house to see if Vern was about, but the old house just hung there silently on the hill. It looked ugly. Suddenly, I hated it and I hated Vern.

  “What’s the matter, Tiny?” Cecil said gently.

  Our eyes met, and for a split second I had the feeling he knew everything that had happened. My face went hot. I turned my back to him and looked toward Ruby Mountain.

  “Nothing” was all I said.

  In band that day Mr. Gillespie had on short sleeves again, and when I looked at his arms I felt this great rush of shame. I felt guilty of something, but I had done nothing wrong. And I was oh, so sad. I wanted to go back to last week, to yesterday, before this hateful, hurtful thing robbed me of … of what? I didn’t know what, but something was gone from me. I wanted to be alone—to cry—to curl up with Willa and go back to being a little girl, and never grow up.

  When the bus dropped me off at home I walked slowly up the hill. The pickup was parked under the porch, which meant Vern was there. I wondered if he was alone.

  I dawdled.

  I stopped to see Nessie. Maybe I would go to Aunt Evie’s.

  “Boy, Mama’s mad at you,” I heard Phyllis say as she came up beside me.

  I was relieved, but I didn’t speak to her. Phyllis followed me into the house. The boys were at the kitchen table and Vern and Mama were upstairs.

  “What’s going on tonight?” I said to them.

  “We’re going back to Paw’s,” Beau said. “How come you went to school when you didn’t have to?”

  I didn’t answer.

  There was a peck basket full of apples on the floor, and I took one. I knew they came from Maw and Paw’s place. They always had the best apples.

  “Mama’s mad at you,” Phyllis repeated.

  I still ignored her.

  I sat down by Beau and bit into my apple.

  “Tell me about last night,” I said to him.

  “Tell you what? She died, that’s all,” Beau said.

  “Was the doctor there?”

  “No. You can die without a doctor, you know.”

  He and Luther giggled.

  “Well, did you see her die?”

  “Nope. Just Daddy and Paw and Aunt Tootsie were in the room with her.”

  “Did you see her after she died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’d she look?”

  “Dead.”

  The boys giggled again.

  “Be serious, Beau Mullins!”

  “I am serious!” he said. “She looked dead and she was dead! Ain’t that serious?”

  “It was the same as when she was alive,” Luther volunteered. “Only she didn’t talk. I never saw her quiet before.”

  We sat still for a moment, then exploded with laughter.

  “Sh … sh …” I tried to shush them as I pointed to Mama and Vern’s bedroom.

  We heard footsteps on the stairs, and all the merriment left my heart. I knew it was Vern. He came into the room, and I went on eating my apple without glancing at him.

  “You can stay home tonight, Tiny,” he said. “If you want to.”

  That was a surprise.

  “Me too,” Phyllis said. “I don’t want to go to no wake.”

  “Me neither,” Beau and Luther said together.

  “No,” Vern said. “The rest of us have to go. But Maw didn’t treat Tiny right.”

  That was a bigger surprise. I never thought Vern
noticed.

  “Well, anyway, Mama’s mad at Tiny,” Phyllis said for the third time, but this time everybody ignored her.

  Vern spent most of his time with Paw Mullins the week after the funeral, so Mama played sick and stayed in bed. She wouldn’t get up for nothing or nobody, and I started thinking I didn’t like her. The kids went to school dirty and ran around the holler like a pack of wild dogs.

  One chilly night I made bacon, eggs, and gravy for supper, and it was good, but I couldn’t cook much else, so we ate a lot of bologna. When Vern was home, I wouldn’t look at him, and I didn’t speak to him at all. He didn’t speak to me either without he had to. Mostly I stayed in my room when I wasn’t in school.

  The big day for the telephone installation came. Mama got up to show where to run the line by the staircase in the hall downstairs, and the telephone man lectured us on telephone courtesy and proper usage.

  When he left, we stood looking at each other and the black object, grinning. We each listened to the dial tone, and hung up the receiver. I decided to wait until the hall was clear to call Bobby Lynn and Rosemary and give them my number, which was 4054.

  Our first call came while we were standing there admiring the telephone. It was four short rings, and Mama picked it up.

  “Hello, this is the Vernon Mullins residence,” she said.

  It was the telephone company checking out the line. When Mama hung up, we heard the rings for the other parties on our line—one long ring or three short rings or a combination of long and short rings.

  Ruby Valley had joined hands with the rest of the U.S.A.

  SEVEN

  Aunt Evie asked me if I would help her put up apple butter on Saturday. The Hesses were supplying the apples, jars, sugar, and spices and a generous supply of apple butter for Aunt Evie if she would do all the work. Working with Aunt Evie was fun because she always told jokes and stories and kept me entertained, so I said yes.

  No sooner was that settled when Bobby Lynn called me and said, “Let’s you and me and Rosemary go see I’d Climb the Highest Mountain next Saturday. It’s got William Lundigan and Susan Hayward.”