Geneva decided not to wear her sling that evening. Her elbow really did not hurt, and besides, she had no desire to hear the story about her trip through the blackberries. That one usually led to several others concerning her adolescent awkwardness. Yes, she was done with that sling. No need to expose herself to anyone’s misplaced amusement.
The revelers began arriving early, and the moment they passed the threshold, Geneva felt herself becoming wrapped in the comfortable cocoon of family: aunts, uncles, cousins at various stages of removal. Without becoming aware of it, she slipped into her old, familiar West Virginian idiom. Within five minutes, she had slapped her thigh twice and had dug her elbow into her cousin Jackson’s ribs over a remembered family anecdote.
Mam-ma Turner, frail and transparent-looking, but straight of back and radiant as ever, arrived bearing several pans of gingerbread and fresh apple pies. Geneva hugged her lightly, holding herself back for fear she would crush her fragile body.
“Law, honey, what kind of hug is that yer agivin’ me?” exclaimed Mam-ma. “And that little old peck on the cheek? You come here and give me a right proper hug and kiss!” As she put her pans down and wrapped her arms around Geneva, her frailty gave way to something strong and maternal. Geneva fleetingly hoped she would live forever.
The crowd grew quickly, laden with food, drinks, crepe-paper streamers, and baby gifts; all busied themselves preparing for the party and making plans to hide and jump out to surprise Wayne and Rachel. Geneva was in the kitchen when John arrived. When he came and told her how much he had enjoyed the evening before, she found that she was torn between uncharacteristic shyness and disappointment that he did not sweep her up into his arms like he had last night. They merely smiled awkwardly at one another, not quite knowing what to say with so many of Geneva’s relatives within earshot. She peered at him through her lashes until her least favorite cousin Lilly, who was at least as idiotic as she was beautiful, came in to ask John to help with the decorating.
The next sight Geneva caught of them, Lilly was standing on a ladder in her stiletto heels and miniskirt, the backs of her perfect knees three inches from John’s eyeballs. Geneva was profoundly irritated by the way Lilly kept shaking her head and flinging back the river of her shimmering pale hair and running her fingers through it so that it would lift and catch the light. She personally felt it was tacky to wear hair that long, all the way down to her fanny. It was obvious that she wore it that length deliberately to show it off and to pull the eye down to her tight little ass. Geneva had beautiful hair and a cute little ass, too, but she didn’t advertise it to the world, did she? What a little hussy Lilly could be!
Geneva glared at her first-cousin-once-removed for a moment, contemplating her little, darting eyes and the way she always painted them up to make them look bigger. Ferret Face, Geneva thought, recalling her favorite nickname for Lilly, then she turned with her nose slightly elevated and walked back into the kitchen. She was above competing for John’s attention and would wait for him to seek her out, once he had enough of looking up Lilly’s skirt.
“Here they come!” someone called out, and the unwieldy crowd rushed into the back yard or huddled together behind furniture. Geneva dashed out the front door, crying loudly, “Hello! Welcome home!” then she ushered the group into the living room, which erupted with live bodies and shouts. Rachel and Wayne burst into laughter, and the party began.
Geneva discreetly sought out John with her eyes, but every time she saw him, he was surrounded by women, and she was determined to show that she was having fun without him. Once she caught him heading in her direction, but someone intercepted him, and then she was suddenly cornered by Lilly’s sister, Sally Beth, equally blond and shapely, but if possible, even dumber than Lilly. She wearied Geneva with her habit of talking in exclamations, as if it might help enliven her excruciatingly boring and one-sided conversations.
“Geneva! Yew are here! Somebody told me yew came home! That’s great! We’ll have to get together soon!
“Yes,” replied Geneva, her smile already feeling weary. “I understand you are to be congratulated.”
“Oh, yes! I passed my cosmetology exam!” she said with a little exhalation of the breath as if she had climbed to the top of a very high mountain. “Finally! Yew know that was really hard! Yew just wouldn’t believe! Yew know, they ask questions about chemistry!
“Really? How—”
“Oh, yes! I mean, I was really shocked the first time I took it. I jist looked at it and thought I would die! I barely got through the first page! But I decided that maybe I should really study for the second time? Yew know, maybe take it really seriously? And I did! I really did! Yew wouldn’t believe how hard I studied! And then when I took it again, it was so much harder! I mean, I don’t think they got those questions from the textbook I studied!
“But this time, I was really prepared. I mean, I read two books this time, and then I got hold of an old test and studied that, too? I was so proud of myself, I was so good! And then, this last test wasn’t nearly so scary—yew know, it’s amazing how yew get more confident when you go through something a few times!”
“I know what—”
“But I really and truly did pass it this time! And I’m so looking forward to starting work! There’s this sweet little place over in Tucker? It’s opened up, and I have a job there right off! I get to start off as a stylist, and I am so excited! Geneva, yew must let me do your hair!” she gushed, then raised a hot pink fingernail and delicately fluffed her own coiffure, which was something to behold. Sally Beth’s hair had always been baby fine and flyaway, but somehow she had figured out a way to elevate it to astonishing heights. The masses of stiff, blonde curls were adorned with a hot pink bow that exactly matched her lips, her fingernails, and her toenails, which peeked out from her open sandals bedecked with large imitation jewels (a trademark of hers since junior high). Sally Beth was a vision of working class pulchritude.
“That would be great, Sally Beth,” replied Geneva. But Sally Beth’s attention had turned to the room around her.
“Say, yew did such a good job with this party! You know, it reminds me of the shower that Leslie Ann and Jeannie Marie gave for Ruth Leigh last summer? Oh, yew missed that one, up there in Washington! How is Washington? Isn’t it just awful?! I heard there’s lots of crime there, all those drug addicts mugging people?”
“Well, actually—”
“Oh! I cain’t imagine! I hope yew aren’t going back! But it’s too bad yew missed this shower! Yew jist wouldn’t believe the way they did it! It was a surprise shower, and you know how Ruth Leigh loves yella?! Well!! They did it so everything was all yella, and everything was a surprise! They had all these yella balloons everywhere? And they had these little bitty surprises in them all? And we all went around like crazy stomping on these balloons, and there were gift certificates for Ruth Leigh, printed on yella paper, or little yella trinkets inside! And, oh! Jeannie Marie’s mother baked this yummy yella cake, and yew just won’t believe this—it was all chocolate!”
“No! You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Geneva, searching the crowd behind Sally Beth for means of escape. She was growing desperate.
“I do!” crowed Sally Beth. “Chocolate with chocolate icing! She had used white chocolate and had colored it all with bright yella food coloring, and it was all such a surprise when we tasted it! And, oh! There was this punch? Which was yella, and of course, we expected it to be lemon or something, but it was grape! I mean, it was the most surprising thing! And they made this big yella ball, like a piñata? And made Ruth Leigh whack at it with this big yella bat, and inside was the most gorgeous yella gown and robe—you know how good Ruth Lee looks in yella, with that hair! And of course, there were yella streamers everywhere! I jist felt like I was in the sunshiniest place ever!”
“Sounds wonderful!” gasped Geneva. “I am so sorry I missed it! Oh, golly! Is that Dianne out on the porch? I thought she was in New York!”
“Oh no! She came home ages ago! A year, at least! But she missed that shower, too! I don’t know where they found them, but they had put these really bright jonquils everywhere! Imagine! In July!
“How surprising! Excuse me! I must go say hello to Dianne!! I had no idea she was home! Sally Beth! It is so good to see you again! We will have to get together soon!” and she fled outside as Sally Beth sang out, “Really!”
Dr. Zhivago came running up as soon as she stepped onto the porch, rubbing against her legs and meowing as if he had missed her. She picked him up as she moved over to the swing where Dianne stood talking to yet another of her female cousins, Janet.
“Geneva! You really are here!” exclaimed Dianne. Geneva winced.
“Just barely! I’ve been cornered by Silly Beth for the last three hours, at least!” she gasped, using the nickname the cousins had given Sally Beth years ago.
“Oh, sorry,” smiled Dianne. I’ll speak totally without inflection for the rest of the evening so you can even out. How long have you been home?”
“A few weeks. But I didn’t know you were home. Silly Beth said you’ve been down for a year. What’s going on? You were doing beautifully when I was up to see School for Scandal. Did it close? I thought it might even still be running.”
“Oh, it ran until this past May. But we turned it over to someone else and moved here early last summer. Charlie’s bought a hardware store.”
“What!?”
“Yes, believe it or not, it was all Charlie’s idea. Oh, I really wanted to come, too, ever since the boys were born, but I never thought we would. You know, we always want to give our children the same kind of magical childhood we had.”
“I suppose so,” began Geneva slowly.
Janet broke in, “Gosh. I can’t imagine a more magical place than New York City, especially since you work in the theatre.”
“Well, yes. It is magical, in its way, but isn’t the same—all artificial—not like this,” she swept her hand toward the mountains shimmering in the late sunlight and continued, “I never figured that Charlie would ever want to move here. You know, he grew up in Manhattan, and his idea of getting back to nature is a jog through Central Park loaded down with a mace canister and a police whistle.”
“You’re exaggerating,” accused Janet.
“You tell me,” countered Dianne. “A couple of years ago, Charlie was on the Brooklyn Bridge on his motorcycle, and he was in heavy traffic. He tried to zip around a few cars—he can be a real smart ass when he’s on that motorcycle. But this guy saw him coming and deliberately bumped him. He fell over and slid for about ten yards, between his bike and the pavement, and smacked his head against the curb. And then, while he was lying there, bleeding, all skinned up from cheek to toe, practically in a coma, all these cars start honking at him and people are yelling and cussing at him to get out of the way. So he drags himself to his feet and he tries to push his bike over, but he keeps stumbling around and vomiting from a concussion. Well then this mounted policeman comes up. Old Charlie thinks he’s coming to rescue him, but all he does is look at Charlie like he’s bored to death, and he says, ‘Hey, Buddy, move it. You can’t park this piece of junk on the bridge. Get outta here!’
“So poor Charlie pushes his bike all the way across the bridge, stopping to throw up every couple of minutes, and everybody’s honking and swearing at him, and as he’s walking, the whole time he’s muttering to himself, ‘I’m outta here.’ So as soon as he finished designing the show he was working on, we packed up and came here.”
“What are you doing?” asked Geneva, incredulous.
“We took over the outdoor theatre in Tucker. I mostly run it and direct shows, and Charlie still does technical design, but it doesn’t make enough to support us both—yet, anyway, so Charlie is running this hardware store. We sold our apartment in Manhattan for a fortune and bought the store and this charming little house out in January Falls. The kids love it, Charlie loves it, and I feel like the heavens have opened up and given me my heart’s desire. You’d have to dynamite me out of here.”
Geneva brightened. “Are you telling me you directed that production of Dream I saw last night?”
“You saw it? What did you think? Charlie did all the tech work on that. We had to get all kinds of permits to do the fireworks, but I think they were worth it.”
“Dianne, it was wonderful. It made me want to get back into theatre.”
“When did you drop out? Last I heard you were going for the MFA. Set design?”
“And lighting, but I never finished. I got sidetracked into doing retail design full time and never got back to it. I meant to, though, and I sure miss it.”
“Really?” asked Dianne, interested. “Are you doing anything now? You know, community theatre, that sort of thing?”
“No, but I have been thinking about it ever since last night.”
“Well, what luck that you’re here. Charlie has his hands full with the hardware store. You wouldn’t believe how macho he’s gotten since he got that thing. He even bought himself a ‘68 Chevy truck with a gun rack, and he keeps insisting that we’ve got to get a hound. Can you imagine an old hound around our little Tybalt?
“Anyway, now that Charlie’s busy being a redneck and running this store, we need someone with a broad background… hey, you could even perform sometimes, provided we could keep you from falling all over you own feet on stage.”
Geneva winced, hoping that the blackberry thicket incident would not come up. She resented Dianne’s implication that she might still be clumsy, but she chose to let the remark pass.
“Do you think you might be interested? We start work on the next season in February. Of course, we can’t pay much, but you can survive. We all have part-time jobs on the side. Nobody around here cares about lifestyles of the rich and famous, anyway.”
Janet broke in, “I can’t believe you two are standing there talking about moving back. Here I’ve been dying to get out of this little hole, and you both had great lives in beautiful cities and are giving it up. As soon as Daddy gets better, I’m taking my little MBA and hitting the corporate life.”
“Shut up, Janet,” laughed Dianne. “Take your MBA and become an accountant in Tucker, if you know what’s good for you. What do you say, Geneva?”
“An accountant? In Tucker?” sputtered Janet.
“Ouch, watch the exclamations, Janet. I’m still being reconditioned through uninflected vocalizations, remember,” teased Geneva.
“Go ahead, throw you brains away. You’ll both be begging to come live with me when I’m living it up in Los Angeles.” She sauntered off.
“Watch out for earthquakes,” called Dianne after her. “Well, Geneva, do you need time to think it over? I’ve seen some of your work, and I know you’d do beautifully. I guess I don’t need to tell you there aren’t many qualified people around here, and I do hate to go through the interview process with new graduates. Too much travel, and besides, there’s nothing like a little nepotism to keep things interesting.”
Geneva did not need much time to think. The vision of what she could do with this opportunity had already taken shape in her quick mind. Since her ride this afternoon, DC had begun to seem decadent and sordid to her here among her clean, windy mountains. And there was John. He might be a reason to stay here for a while, perhaps forever. Tickled with the possibilities, Geneva smiled at Dianne. Already she was imagining John and herself playing Romeo and Juliet… no, maybe Anthony and Cleopatra. That was a more interesting relationship. Maybe he could be persuaded to give some time from his busy practice and get back on stage. She positively tingled with the thought. “I just might be interested. Let’s get together and talk it over,” she said, stroking Dr. Zhivago.
“Okay, there’s time. Nice cat. Is he yours?”
“Yes,” replied Geneva. “He gave me a bit of a scare this week. Had a bout with high blood pressure.”
“High blood pressure?” asked Dianne incredulously. “Nah. Cats don’t get high blood pressure. They’re too lazy!”
“Well, this one did. John Smith, the vet in there checked it himself.” She indicated John through the open door.
Dianne laughed. “That crazy John. What a liar. Why, he’s been pulling your leg!” Geneva stiffened, but Dianne laughed harder. “Last summer he convinced Charlie that skunks won’t spray their perfume during the night of the summer solstice. And then told him that people would pay five hundred dollars for young skunks for pets. That seemed reasonable for Charlie. He’s from New York! The idiot went out all night looking for them. I was out of town that week and so didn’t know a thing about it until I got home and found that he’d shaved his head. He’d found a whole nest of them and just about didn’t make it out alive. I’m just glad he didn’t take the boys with him!” She shook her head, laughing for a full half minute at the memory. “But we got John back. Sent him on a day-long hike with Sally Beth and Lilly together! And we’re cooking up another good one. We’ll spring it on him one day when he’s not suspecting it. But Charlie’s easy to dupe, being a city boy. I’d think that you would know better!” She sputtered a laugh again. “High blood pressure!”
Geneva pasted a polite smile on her face and excused herself, mumbling something about replenishing the carrot sticks, then headed straight for John, who was enjoying the company of four women who looked as if they might be on leave from their jobs as playmates of the month. Lilly was one of them, leaning toward him, her ample breast nestled against his arm. Geneva approached them from behind to get a closer look. The women were doodling on his cast with felt tip pens.
“Come on, John,” one of them laughed. “Tell us how you really broke it.”
“Well, I really was helping to fight a wildfire at an oil well in Houston. It blew up and knocked me for a loop. When I came to about three days later, I was in this cast. Severe concussion. Couldn’t remember a thing for week or two. Burned off all my eyelashes and eyebrows, too.”
The four women collapsed with laughter, shrieking and punching him. One of them began to sketch a picture of an explosion and a figure wearing an elaborate cowboy hat doing loops through the air, right beside one of a king tumbling off his throne. Geneva whirled and marched into the kitchen, where Rachel sat talking with Ray and three relatives.
“Do you know what I just heard?” demanded Geneva. “John is out there telling people that he broke his leg fighting a wildfire in Texas. And cats don’t get high blood pressure!”
Aunt Hattie laughed, “He told me he was water-skiing in the Mediterranean, and Buck got the story that he was parachuting.”
“Mine’s better,” drawled Uncle Henry. “He told me he was hang gliding in the Alps.”
“Bungee jumping,” corrected Ray. There was a general burst of laughter, but Geneva did not participate.
“What a liar!” exclaimed Aunt Hattie. She turned to Geneva. “What did he tell you?”
Geneva smiled through gritted teeth. “He was rescuing a woman on a runaway horse.”
Everyone except Geneva looked delighted. Uncle Henry slapped his knees several times. “That’s the best one!” they crowed. Geneva was thinking of a different adjective, but she said nothing while she glared at her sister. Rachel pulled her into the chair beside her, explaining with a smile, “John’s a bit of a tease, Geneva, and he loves to keep people off balance. He makes up outrageous stories and tells everyone a different one so that we’re all kept guessing. It’s sort of a game with him. I doubt if he’s told anyone the real truth.” Rachel looked at her anxiously. “I hope you aren’t mad at him. He’s just having fun.”
Geneva flared her nostrils. Another lying man! And she almost fell for him! Icily, she threw back her head and smirked at Rachel. “Oh, no, I’m not mad. I’m used to hearing men’s lies. I find them rather entertaining. Excuse me. I think the air is getting stuffy in here.” She flounced through the living room, then strode outside, glaring at John on the way out. There was some satisfaction to be derived from seeing the surprised look on his face.
She headed for the creek, then struck up the hillside toward the heath bald half a mile from Rachel’s house. The late sunset had alighted the west, flooding the face of the mountains with its glow, but amplifying Geneva’s sorrow. She shuddered with angry sobs as she looked at it, but she was too mad to really cry. Mostly she gritted her teeth and spat out pejoratives, wishing she had something worth throwing. All she had were stones and pine cones, which were terribly unsatisfactory because they did not break.
“I am through with men. Absolutely, undeniably, no holds barred, through,” she muttered in the softening light. As she stormed, a satisfying scene began to fill her head. She would become a hermit, a sinewy old mountain woman, hard as ivory and prickly as cactus. No, wait. That wouldn’t do. She would stay beautiful, and men would risk their lives to come for a glimpse of her. She would keep a shotgun and run them off if they dared to venture up into her citadel. But when they caught sight of her face, they would be inflamed with desire, and they would yearn and pine, then ultimately die with unrequited love. She would become legendary, known as far as Maine and Georgia as the misanthropic beauty who trained her cats to scratch out the eyes of any male old enough to shave.
Her mind began to stray into another line. There would be a particularly handsome man, named… Lord… Ruston. He would ride up every single day on a big Appaloosa stallion because he pined for her so, but she would refuse to see him, and her mountain lions would…
But then, the memory of John’s green eyes flashed before her, and she felt Howard’s touch, and the fight went out of her. As the misery engulfed her soul, she began to cry in earnest. She tried to tell herself to stop, that she was making her eyes all red and swollen, but to no avail. Why were men so awful? Howard had left that terrible hole in her heart, and now John had filled it with salt. She hated men! She would kill them all if she could.
She grieved well past nightfall, then made her way sorrowfully down the mountain. The party was still going on, so she climbed in her bedroom window and collapsed on the bed, exhausted, but certain that she would not sleep.
She did sleep, immediately, deeply, and dreamlessly, as if her mind were trying to avoid contact with the wound. But several hours later she woke, thirsty from her earlier tears. Walking through the dark, silent house, she felt her way into the kitchen. She heard voices on the back porch. One of them was John’s, speaking her name. Breathlessly, she flattened herself against the wall, then crept to the open door and settled herself on the floor to listen. Rachel was there, too, and so was Wayne, but she could not hear what they were saying. Sammy, the Irish setter snored softly.
Carefully, favoring her sprained elbow, she crawled on her hands and knees to the dining room, then tiptoed out the front door and around to the back. When she rounded the side of the house, she crawled again, stealthily, hardly daring to breathe. She heard Sammy growl once, then as he caught her scent, he thumped his tail on the floor and grew quiet again. Geneva let her breath out, then continued her journey behind the dahlias until she reached the back steps where she could hear clearly the conversation just three feet way. For the second time in as many weeks, she sat on the bare ground and settled herself behind the bushes to eavesdrop on the man she might be able to love and/or hate. She hadn’t quite made up her mind yet.
Rachel was speaking. “John, I’m sorry. There may not be much hope. She’s incredibly fickle, and you know she’s real sensitive about men who lie to her. She’ll think she is in love one minute, and the poor shleck will do to something to irritate her, and that’s the end of that romance. The last guy she got really serious about may yet be picking glass shards from his scalp.” Geneva cringed, remembering her conversation with John about her lack of attachments. Damn it Rachel, can’t you keep a secret? She held her breath and swore that if Rachel told him that Howard had jilted her, she would personally see to it that her sister never slept through a peaceful night again.
Wayne broke in with a laugh. “She’s almost as big a liar as you, John, only she doesn’t see it as lying, exactly. She just rearranges the facts to suit her.”
This was her favorite brother-in-law speaking? Geneva felt a growl beginning deep in her throat. Sammy moved suddenly and returned it, low and menacing. Geneva forced herself to be quiet.
“Yes,” laughed Rachel. “You two really are perfect for each other. I’ve never seen two bigger romantics in my life—and both of you will plot and scheme and lie like hell to make things turn out like you want them.”
“I’m not the plotter,” countered John. “You’re the one who told me I had to sweep her off her feet before she’d stay interested in me for more than five minutes. And you know I’m all the time telling tall tales just for fun. I thought she’d like to hear a romantic tale about rescuing a maiden.”
“Oh, she loved it!” giggled Rachel. “But she took it seriously, and it sure backfired. I’m just glad you didn’t tell her about your Congressional Medal of Honor.”
“Or your Olympic gold,” said Wayne. They all laughed.
“I just about did,” said John, “but somehow I was afraid she’d believe me. She’s gullible, isn’t she? You know, I really do like her, and I don’t want to tease her too much.” He paused, then spoke again. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”
“It will take some work.” There was a pause. “Ever heard of Jacob’s Mountain?”
“No. Where is it?”
“You climb up to the laurel bald behind the house, then follow the ridge west for about two miles. It’s where I caught Wayne. Didn’t I, honey?”
“You little fool. It’s where I caught you.”
“That’s what you think. Geneva and I plotted for weeks to get you up there—the magic is better when the moon is full.”
Wayne sat silently for a moment. “I guess you’re right. I was too scared to look at you before that day, even though I sure spent many a sleepless night thinking about you—.” He snorted. “World’s biggest geek falls in love with Miss America. And when you came riding up, the wind blowing the grass all around you, I felt like I could sweep you up and carry you off.”
“Uh-huh. Witchcraft,” said Rachel.
“In your eyes,” replied her husband.
“Fairy potions,” said John. “Do you happen to have the recipe?”
“Aw, you don’t need it,” came Rachel’s voice. “You’re cute enough without it. Besides, Geneva will come around, once she realizes how much fun you are.”
“Do you think I’ll have to give up my tall tales?”
“Not until Geneva gives up hers. Two weeks after hell freezes over. Give her enough time, and she’ll come to love them. You’ll never bore her.”
“I hope so,” sighed John. “She sure is pretty. And fun. I like her spunk.”
“Yeah, well, believe it or not, I really think you’re outclassed,” laughed Rachel.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, just that you don’t always get away with your lies and maneuverings.”
Geneva sat very still, not daring to breathe, yet almost suffocating from excitement and rage. She would have panted, shouted, shrieked, but she did not know for which reason. Clearly her sister and Wayne were conspiring with John behind her back, which infuriated her. And those awful things they were saying about her! But on the other hand, it was clear that John really, really liked her!
From the corner of the house came a dark, feline form. It was Petrarch, who caught her scent as soon as he made it past the wellhead. Delighted to find his mistress during his nocturnal prowl, he streaked to Geneva, rubbing against her and mewing loudly. Geneva held her breath, stroking him, trying to silence his excitement. Presently, they were joined by Esmeralda, then Evangeline and her two kittens. Geneva frantically tried to pet them all as they ecstatically climbed over her, meowing and creating such a racket that Sammy scrambled up, barking hysterically.
Wayne’s voice rose above the noise. “Cut it out, Sammy. It’s just those stupid cats. You don’t need to go terrorizing them tonight. You might give them high blood pressure.”
Geneva gritted her teeth against their laughter. Everybody’s such a comedian.
Sammy was determined to be let out. Geneva had always thought that Rachel should teach that dumb dog better manners, and now the fool idiot was about to flush her out of her hiding place.
Quickly, lest someone open the door for Sammy and discover her, she hastily began crawling back through the border flowers along her entry route. The cats, ignoring Sammy’s barks, followed her, rubbing their heads against her face and getting fur in her mouth.
Suddenly she stopped cold. The light from the porch fell dimly across her path, and there, coiled on a rock smack in the dahlias, lay a copperhead, at least three feet long, grinning its venomous grin and daring her to come closer. The cats caught sight of it about fifteen seconds after Geneva did, and their backs went up, accompanied with hisses and growls. But after this one brief show of bravado, they abandoned Geneva, who took a couple of shallow breaths and began to crawl backwards. About that time somebody finally freed Sammy, who took out after the cats, and when they eluded him, he frisked over to Geneva, tongue lolling.
You stupid dog, she thought, as she pushed him away. Don’t you realize there’s a copperhead not four feet from here? Get out of my face! She shoved him several times before Sammy caught the hint and gave up his slobbering caresses. He lumbered back up the porch steps, and the moment he began whining to be let in, Geneva again retreated from the porch door, straining her eyes in the darkness for sight of the snake. She wanted to pray, but somehow felt unworthy, and besides, it was difficult to beg for mercy while she was thinking murderous thoughts about her sister and brother-in-law. A glance behind her let her know that the copperhead had disappeared from its rock. Still, she sat silent, hoping earnestly that it was not seeking out her body heat, which by this time was getting pretty high.
She swallowed hard, shut her eyes for a moment to improve her night vision, then opened them wide, all the while trying to make herself small and invisible against the porch columns. Yes, there it was, slowly making its way in her direction. John was saying, “Tell me more about this Jacob’s Mountain. What makes it so magical?”
Rachel’s voice floated through the darkness, “Only the fact that Geneva thinks it is. If you can get her to agree to go with you, she’ll probably be convinced that she’ll love you forever, you poor man.”
The snake had momentarily stopped, its tongue flicking out, tasting the air. Between it and Geneva lay a short, sturdy stick with a forked end. Very slowly and gently, she reached for it, her eyes locked onto the copperhead’s, her hand inching forward almost imperceptibly. The snake glared at her with its beady, malevolent eyes, daring her to come closer, flicking its tongue steadily, communicating to Geneva that one of them would die tonight.
Playing chicken with a copperhead big enough to swallow me whole, she thought grimly. How do I get into these messes? But she was sure she would die right there in the dahlias before she allowed herself to be discovered. It was, to provide an understatement, a very tense moment.
Wayne entered the conversation. “Actually, I think that she’ll make a pretty good wife once she’s convinced that she wants to settle down. She’s almost as much fun as you are, Rachel.”
“She’s certainly fun loving,” returned Rachel. “But John,” she continued in a warning tone. “Don’t lead her on. I don’t want my sister hurt.”
“Yes ma’am. I’ve already made up my mind on that one. Strictly honorable and all that.”
Geneva thought scornfully, I’m about to be eaten alive by a poisonous snake, and you’re worried about some man hurting me. I’ll show you how tough I can be! She lifted the forked stick and shoved it at the copperhead, pinning its wide, flat head against a mound of soft dirt. Although she pressed with all her strength, she could do no more than imprison it, and she was forced to hold her hand closer than she cared as the snake writhed and flailed at the air around it. Geneva gritted her teeth, sweating, and held on.
Somebody let Sammy back onto the porch. He flopped down noisily, panting, pleased with himself. Now Geneva was free from the threat of discovery via Sammy, but she could not release the snake. She dug in her heels and pressed against the stick, but the copperhead slowly began to squeeze itself forward. Geneva pressed harder, rotating the stick slightly. She prayed it would not break.
Just when she was sure her arm would drop off from fatigue, John commented on the lateness of the hour. On the porch, the trio rose in unison; Sammy thumped his tail, clamoring for a caress. As John said goodnight to his host and hostess, opening the back door and lumbering down the steps, Geneva could have touched the caricature of the cartwheeling cowboy on John’s cast from where she sat. She pressed her head against the porch supports, holding onto the stick desperately as the strength fled from her arm. Silently, she waited until Rachel and Wayne had gone indoors and John had started his Jeep, then she eased sideways until she was able to place the fingertips of her left hand on a sizable stone. Slowly, agonizingly, she reached until the fingers slid over the top of the stone and pulled it toward her. The stick felt slippery in her hand; the snake flipped and lashed out, inching forward. Any moment now its head would be clear enough to reach her.
The sound of John’s engine faded away. Not trusting the strength in her right arm any longer, Geneva bolted from her position, jerked up the rock, and before the snake realized that it had been freed, slammed it squarely on the poisonous head. Trembling, she lifted herself from the flowers, scooted around the side of the house, and hoisted herself into her bedroom for the second time that evening. Then she stripped out of her dirty clothes and fell into bed.
When she awoke, Geneva’s first thought was to find a way to confront Rachel and Wayne about their slander of the night before. It wouldn’t do to upset Rachel this late into her pregnancy, yet she felt she couldn’t wait long before she at least let her know she did not appreciate her underhanded schemes. Some people, thought Geneva, are positively diabolical. Imagine Rachel plotting against her own sister! Because Rachel had been helping John to woo her, Geneva felt a little less piqued than she might have under different circumstances, but what if Rachel tried something like that with someone Geneva did not particularly like? What right had she to help someone trick her into going up to Jacob’s Mountain? Geneva felt the righteous indignation rise up inside her. She would never stoop to such tactics! Irritated with everyone, she rose and went to breakfast.
Over cantaloupe, Rachel asked her if she were still angry with John, but Geneva brushed the question aside.
“You really worried us last night,” Gaynell chided, “and John and several others went off looking for you. It was lucky Rachel found you sleeping in the bed before they got too far.”
“Sorry,” said Geneva, not especially contrite. “I just wanted to be alone for a while, think things over.”
“That’s okay, honey,” said Rachel softly, then changed the subject. “I have a checkup this morning, so I thought I’d ride in with Wayne. If you’re not too busy, maybe you could come into town later on and pick me up. We need some groceries.”
A nice little plan stepped neatly into Geneva’s head. She would get Rachel off alone, away from Wayne, and away from Gaynell, too, who would no doubt stick up for Rachel. Today might just be the perfect day for a drive up the mountain with her loving big sister. After all, it had been a while since they’d had a heart to heart…
“That’s fine,” she said sweetly. “As a matter of fact, I wanted to head over to Hickory Holler today, so we could just go on from there.”
“Why do you want to go to Hickory Holler, Geneva?” asked Wayne.
“Well, you may have noticed I didn’t give you a baby gift last night. I want to go over to that old woman who tats—what’s her name, Mama?”
“Mrs. Wheater?” offered Gaynell.
“Lives in that old house on stilts? Big spring in the back yard?”
“That’s her.”
“I want to commission her to make a pair of christening caps. What do you think?”
“Why, Geneva, what a lovely thought,” said Rachel.
“Oh, I don’t think you should go,” cautioned Gaynell. “There’s a full moon tonight, and I don’t think you should get too far from the hospital. You might just decide to have those babies tonight.”
Rachel laughed. “Mama, you don’t really believe that, do you? I still have four weeks to go, and I don’t feel a bit ready. Just some Braxton-Hicks contractions now and then.”
Wayne countered, “Yes, but you’re awfully big. I don’t think it’s a good idea to travel all the way over to Hickory Holler.”
“Wayne, it’s not that far!” insisted Rachel, “And it’s going to be a beautiful day. I tell you what. I’ll ask Jackie if I can go, and if she says okay, I’ll let you know. We’ll take it easy, maybe take a picnic and be back around dark. I think it will be great fun. Besides, I’m getting a bad case of cabin fever. Riding around can’t be worse than walking.”
“Okay,” sighed Wayne. “But if you feel anything, you turn back. You don’t want to go into early labor back up in the high country.”
“I don’t like it,” insisted Gaynell. “I know what full moons can do. I had both of you at a full moon.”
“Yes, but there aren’t that many premature births during a full moon,” said Wayne. “I think they’ll be all right.”
“Great,” said Rachel happily. Geneva felt a little guilty and decided she would not be too hard on her about the things she had said last night. And she would be getting heirloom lace christening caps for the babies. That, of course, was the real reason for the trip. Geneva finished her breakfast quietly, and after Rachel and Wayne left, she washed the dishes and packed a generous picnic.
“You may need some supper,” worried Gaynell, “so take some extra sandwiches and these bananas and apples.”
“Mom, we’ll be fine,” sighed Geneva, rolling her eyes. “Why is it that mothers are so overprotective?”
By nine thirty, Geneva was off in her little Mazda, quite looking forward to the trip into the high country where the rhododendrons and mountain laurel would still be in bloom. She met Rachel at the clinic, and after Rachel called Wayne and her mother to verify that Dr. Samson had declared her weeks away from delivery, the sisters were off for the drive to Hickory Holler.
If one were in a hurry, one could make the round trip in four hours, but Geneva and Rachel planned to take their time, stopping at every vista view and waterfall and chipmunk burrow. Before they got out of Tucker, they discovered a flea market and stopped for two hours, then Rachel, always hungry, insisted on eating lunch before they began the trip in earnest. It was well after noon before they began their ascent into the high mountains, and some time after that before Geneva could summon up enough remembered anger to discuss the incident of the night before.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Geneva,” groaned Rachel after Geneva had finished with her account of what she had heard and how she felt about it. “That’s exactly what we were talking about. You’re all the time doing things like hiding in the bushes and climbing in windows and telling men you like that you’ve never been serious about anyone, and then you get in an uproar when somebody tells a joke and you don’t get it. You’re one of the biggest liars I ever knew, but you’d sooner die than admit it. It’s like you’re in some crazy story of your own making, where you’re the heroine, and you keep coming up with more and more bizarre situations just because you can. Don’t you dare accuse me of slandering you. If that snake had bitten you, you would have had some explaining to do.”
“Rachel, that’s not fair. Wouldn’t you try to find out what people were saying if you knew they were talking about you?”
“Of course, but I wouldn’t get mad at somebody else for pulling the same stunt. Sheesh. What a hypocrite.”
“Well, what about your conspiring behind my back with John? You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. But I’m also on his. The two of you are exactly alike, and you belong together. If I have to connive to keep you from blowing the best thing that ever happened to you, I will.”
“What makes you think we’re alike?”
Rachel hooted. “You both are about the most moony-eyed idiots I ever saw. Who else but you would name her stupid cats after great lovers, and who but John would find a way to make his name sound like he was descended from royalty? And speaking of names, Ms. Le Noir, don’t you think it’s a bit much to try to improve on your own father’s name?’
Geneva felt outmaneuvered. “Oh, let’s drop it, Rachel. I forgive you. Now shut up.”
“Oh, thank you! I am forever grateful for your more than generous mercy! Now, are you going to go out with John again or what?”
Geneva tried to pout, but she couldn’t help smiling. It was kind of nice to know that John really was concerned about her. He had gone looking for her last night…
“Wanna place bets on which one of you will get the other up to Jacob’s Mountain?”
“Rachel, I have no intentions of taking John or anyone else up there. Really! The man lied to me!”
Rachel ignored her remark. “That poor man,” she said, shaking her head. “John doesn’t have any idea of what he’s up against. I’d bet on you any day, and I bet you will do it in a way that no one can imagine. Probably make John think he’s luring you up there and he’ll feel guilty about it for years. And you’ll help him perpetrate the myth!”
They both laughed. Geneva knew her sister might be right about that, for she had already begun toying with such an idea herself. Not seriously, of course, just as sort of an academic exercise.
Suddenly Rachel squealed, “Oh, Geneva! Look! Look!”
“Where?” Geneva craned her neck around.
“Pull over! Quick! Oh, go back, there was a pull-out back there. Oh, Geneva! I’ve never seen anything like it! Hurry!”
Geneva nearly tore the transmission out getting her car into reverse while it was still moving. Rachel had already jumped out, leaving the door open, and continued to scream loud shrieks of joy. Geneva jumped out of the car, looking back across the pass they had just crossed. Ahead of them the sun was shining; behind them the clouds had rolled darkly across the pass. But above them, glimmering in the afternoon light and vivid beyond imagination, was a double rainbow, with both arcs complete, straddling the sky from mountaintop to mountaintop. Geneva’s soul soared up to those rainbows, which seemed to be made of grace—a gift straight from the hand of God. She wanted to climb on top of her car, to run back and clamber up the taller mountain, anything to reach that wondrous picture they saw there in the roiling, magnificent sky. Rachel was still screaming and laughing, pointing as if crowds of people were asking what she found so interesting, and Geneva couldn’t stop shouting, “Oh, look! Look!” and clapping her hands. And then they both stood rapt and silent, alone in the chilly air, grateful for their own eyes, yet wishing they could share it with everyone whose lives touched their own. Rachel walked over to her sister and put her arms around her waist, and together they watched until the clouds rolled over and around the vision and left them alone. They stood silently for a while longer, filled with gratitude that some moments in life could be so sweet.
It was much later before they could bring themselves to leave the spot, hoping for a reoccurrence. They got the blankets out and lay on the hood of the car, always keeping their eyes upward, scanning for the treasure that only shortly before had been laid before them. But at last it began to rain, so they took cover in the car and made their way slowly up the mountain. It rained torrents, fountains, so hard that a few times Geneva was forced to pull over to wait for it to slack off before she could continue. With the rain came angry lightning, slashing all around them, more like mythical bolts from Zeus than merely earthly lightning bolts. The thunder was so loud and the flashes so close and bright that the women began to feel under siege, as if perhaps they had seen the rainbows illegally and had displeased their owner. Rachel shivered and commented nervously,
“Gee, I’m glad we aren’t afraid of thunderstorms!” They laughed, and then crested the ridge. As suddenly as the rain had started, the sky turned blue again. The road there was dry, and the wind no stronger than the breath of one of Evangeline’s kittens. Geneva and Rachel felt more thankful than they cared to let on.
They arrived at Mrs. Wheater’s rickety old house much later than they had expected to. The place looked the same as Geneva had remembered it. Built of unpainted clapboard, it was perched upon a slope so steep that the front porch was built high on stilts. The whole rickety structure looked as if it would tumble down in the next strong wind. Back off to the left of the house gushed an exuberant spring, which emptied into a deep pool ringed by beech trees, then tumbled on down the mountain in a breathless, foamy rush. There were no signs of electricity or telephones; indeed, there were ample indications of no indoor plumbing. An outhouse sat off to the right; in the front yard a big cook-pot hung above a fire between forked sticks. Mrs. Wheater, bathed in a golden afternoon sunray, stood boiling clothes in the pot, adding handfuls of homemade lye soap shavings. Clothes hung about on clotheslines supported by leaning beech poles while Mrs. Wheater jabbed at the frothing pot with a paddle and smiled at her approaching company. The sisters felt as they always did here—that they could have been stepping back two hundred years in time.
There was a serenity about the ancient face as the old woman shaded her eyes and greeted them.
“Howdy.”
“Hello, Mrs. Wheater. Do you remember us? Geneva and Rachel Lenoir,” said Rachel.
“From the looks of ye, ye ain’t no Lenoir now,” said Mrs. Wheater soberly. “I surely hope ye got a husband, child.”
Rachel laughed. “Yes, indeed, ma’am. And my condition is what brings us here. Do you still tat?”
“Yes, child, I do, though not as much as I useter. I turned ninety-four last month, and I don’t see so well now.”
Geneva looked at her eyes, which were as blue and clear as those of Rachel’s small daughters. “Well, ma’am. I want to ask you if you would tat two christening caps for my sister’s twins who will be born next month sometime. They will be my gift to them.”
A smile beamed from the old face. “I will. Proudly. Twins is a blessing. I had two sets myself, and never were babies sweeter. They’ll be girl twins, I reckon.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Rachel. “Boys are about as rare as bluebirds in January on both sides of our family. But what makes you think so?”
“Yer carryin’ them right wide, like they’s alayin’ side by side. Ifn you kin tell yer expectin’ from behind, they’s girls. But ye shouldn’t be up here this close to time. They’s a full moon tonight, and they’s asittin’ real low. Likely they’ll come soon. Mebe tonight.”
The sisters smiled at Mrs. Wheater’s lore. “All right,” said Rachel. “If we can get a drink from your spring, we’ll be off home right away. When do you think you can have the caps ready?”
“Ye come back one month from now. I awready got me some fine pieces goin’, and I’ll work ever chancet I git. But don’t run off yit. I got some raspberry leaf tea for ye to take with ye. Ease your time.” She moved slowly into the house and returned with the tea tied up in a cloth. Then she took a dipper, and walking around the house to the shimmering, clear pool, she dipped out a drink for each of them, and then another and another. They drank thirstily, knowing the water came from the very heart of the earth, cleaner and sweeter than water they could drink from anywhere else.
“Thank you,” they said solemnly, feeling strangely reverent around the frail, bent woman, whom they knew to be stronger than either of them. She had raised a dozen children of her own and several others as well, and she embraced her rough life with a joy that neither Rachel nor Geneva could begin to fathom.
“Just a minute,” said Rachel, moving toward the car. She returned carrying a loosely woven shawl in a soft red and handed it to Mrs. Wheater. “Here, I wove this from the wool of my sheep. I’d like for you to have it.”
Mrs. Wheater stroked it, possessing it with her ancient, spotted hands, the fingers bent and carbuncled. But her touch was like a living thing, sparked with something like the desire of youth. “Did ye dye it with sassafras bark?”
“No,” replied Rachel a little regretfully. “Just regular dye. Does sassafras come out this color?”
“Yes, indeed, and sourwood and sweetgum are red, too. Horsechestnut and hickory are yeller. Shingleoak comes out right purple.”
“I’ll remember that and try them next time around,” said Rachel, looking at her intently, as if she wanted to memorize the lines crowning the woman’s face, as well as her lore.
“Thank yew, girls, fer comin’ ter see me. And thank yew for the perty shawl. It’ll be a comfort, come cold weather. Now git on back down this mountain. I expect it’ll be dark afore yew make it past Horse Creek. I got my warshin’ to finish here afore I lose the sun.” She shaded her eyes against the falling sun. “Looks like it’s mebe too late, though. We had us a good rain early on this evenin’.”
They turned to leave, but as they reached the car, Rachel called out, “Mrs. Wheater?”
“Yes, girl?”
“Does a double rainbow mean anything special?”
“Yew seen a double rainbow and you expectin’ twins?”
She scratched the back of her neck with a long, slow stroke.
“Was they whole?”
“Yes.”
“Was one of ‘em brighter the othern?”
“A little.”
Mrs. Wheater stood still for a moment, squinting down the long tunnel of her memory. Finally she spoke slowly, “I ain’t fer certain it’s true, but I’ve heered tell it means one will be a beauty, and real feisty. The othern will be sweet and easy. And one will be right handed, the other left.”
“Thanks, Ma’am.”
“Good-bye. Don’t fergit ta drank yer tea.”