Smack. "Then say it, Love, but make haste. I been a-waitin' for you a million years. I cain't wait no longer!"
I was shocked, and she must of felt the same. "But ... but you ... but I only agreed to be your housekeeper!" Her whisper rose in pitch, an angry sound. "I will not be taken advantage of, Mr. Blakeslee! How dare you try to ... to use me like I'm a.... Why, I trusted you!"
"I love you, Miss Love! Cain't you see thet? And today I ... hit seemed like you loved me, too."
"What are you saying, Mr. Blakeslee?"
"You deaf? I'm sayin' I love you, dang it! I'm sayin' I want you to be my wife! I'm sayin' I been a-waitin' to hold you in my arms ever since the day we got married.... No, way longer than thet, Lord hep me. Miss Love—Love, I been a-waitin' for this minute ever since the day I laid eyes on you!"
It made me sick, hearing that.
"Please, Mr. Blakeslee, you don't know what you're saying." Her words were more softly spoken than whispered, and I could tell she had moved away from him, nearer the door. "I don't believe.... You never made one gesture, sir. Never said one word!"
"No, but ever time I looked at you, I thought it. God hep me, I been lovin' you and hatin' myself ever time I—"
"You never did anything wrong!" she protested, like she wanted to take up for him. Then she lowered her voice again. "I never once suspected. That's why I was so shocked when you asked me to marry you. I didn't think you'd even noticed me, Mr. Blakeslee."
"I was scairt to notice you. Scairt somebody would notice me noticin'. Scairt Miss Mattie Lou might, and I wouldn't a-hurt her—" I heard him sink heavily onto the cot, and he must of bent his head down, to judge by his voice. "Miss Mattie Lou knowed something was eatin' up my soul, Miss Love. She kept a-sayin', 'Mr. Blakeslee, tell me what's a-worryin' you so.' And when she took sick—"
"Sh-h, you're talking too loud, sir. Please don't wake up Will. Go on back to bed now and we'll talk when—"
"I got to talk now," he said, but minding her and dropping his voice to a whisper. "By time we git home I might a-lost my nerve. I used to beg God to take away my cravin' for you. When I'd git up off my knees, I'd feel better. But then the very next day I'd watch you workin' at yore table and ... I couldn't hardly stand it, you was so beautiful. Then Miss Mattie Lou took sick, and I got scairt the Lord might take her to punish me for my sin. I ain't never believed God was thet mean. But what if'n He was? I commenced beggin' for forgiveness. When she was so sick, I got the notion if I didn't go down to the store where I'd see you, I could git you out a-my system. Miss Mattie Lou was.... She married me when I warn't nothin', Miss Love. She give me all she had when her daddy died. And she mint her health havin' babies thet didn't live, tryin' to git me a son to carry on the name. She knowed how much—" His voice broke. "She would a-tried agin, but Doc said another baby'd kill her. So I made shore thet didn't happen. I loved Miss Mattie Lou very much. You unner-stand thet?"
I could hear tears in her voice as she whispered, "Yes. Yes, of course I do."
"She was part a-me. I could tell her anythang—cept bout you, a-course. It was jest like with Will Tweedy, and now you. I can cut the fool with anybody, but they ain't many folks I can really talk to.... Well, after what Doc said, I stayed off from her—"
"Mr. Blakeslee, it's not right to tell me all this."
"I got to tell somebody. You rather I tell Will Tweedy? Or Mary Willis or Loma? I'm sayin' I stayed off from her, and after while the fire went out. Seemed like she was jest my sister, my friend. Not my wife. It was like all the feelin's I ever felt—a man for a woman, I mean—they was jest dead. Then I went to the depot to git you when you come in on thet train from Baltimore, Miss Love. I took one look at you, so young and feisty, and hankered after you like a schoolboy."
"Hush, sir. Hush."
"You don't know what I been th'ew these two years, Miss Love. Lord, I wisht we didn't have to whisper. I'm a-gittin' hoarse."
"Go back to bed, Mr. Blakeslee. We'll talk later." It was like she was speaking to a child.
He paid no attention. "After you left off livin' at our house and went to the Crabtrees', Miss Love, I couldn't wait to git to the store ever mornin'. If'n I was sick, I went on anyways. I thought I'd die when a whole day went by and I didn't git to see you. Often as I dared to, I'd tell Miss Mattie Lou, 'Set a place for the milliner at Sunday dinner, hear. She's kind a-homesick.' Or, 'She don't git good cookin' at Miz Crabtree's. Not like yore'n.' You and me and her, we'd have sech a good time round thet pi-ana after dinner. Hit kind a-eased my guilty feelin's, seein' how fond a-you she was. But then, by George, you commenced keepin' comp'ny with thet fool Son Black! I couldn't hardly stand it."
"He didn't mean a thing to me. He was just—"
"How was I to know? And then ... then Miss Mattie Lou was a-dyin'. I set there by her in thet rockin' chair day after day, lovin' her and grievin', but in the back side a-my mind I was wonderin' if'n you might up and marry thet son-of-a-gun jest when it looked like—"
"Sh-h, don't say it, Mr. Blakeslee. Please, let's stop talking. The boy—"
I coughed, and coughed again, like in my sleep, and then snorted and turned over.
"Hit'd take a earthquake to wake him up t'night." There was a pause. "Yore skin ... hit's so soft, Love. See? Hit ain't hard a-tall to call you Love. Yore cheek, Love, it's like"—he laughed—"like a mule's nose.... Like velvet." She laughed, too. He kissed her gently. I know it was gently, because it didn't smack. "Love, when I set there with Miss Mattie Lou, I warn't jest beggin' God's forgiveness. I was prayin' she'd git well. But I was—"
"There's nothing wrong with that, Mr. Blakeslee. God wants us to ask for His healing hand on—"
"Let me finish. God don't want nobody to ast like I done. Gosh a'mighty, Miss Love, all the time I was prayin' Him to spare Miss Mattie Lou, like He was a dang Santy Claus, I was thinkin' thet if'n she died I could marry you!"
I swear I saw the ghost of Granny flit distraught around the room. I wanted to sic her on him, shout, "He ain't in here, Granny! He's in yonder with her! Go haint him!"
Soon as I thought it, I hoped she wouldn't. Back when she was alive and him lusting in his heart after another woman, it's a wonder God hadn't strung Grandpa up by his heels and split him down the middle. But I couldn't hate him now. And I hoped Granny up in Heaven didn't hate him, and I hoped Miss Love wouldn't. If a man's been horsewhipping himself for two years, it seemed to me like not even God would want to punish him anymore.
I couldn't hear everything they said that night, especially when they moved away from the door. I missed words and even sentences when occasionally I breathed deep or snored a little so they wouldn't guess I was awake. But I heard most of it.
After Grandpa's confession, Miss Love had tears in her voice. "You poor, dear man. I'm so sorry, so very sorry." She whispered it over and over, and then begged him to go back to bed.
But Grandpa said he warn't done talking.
"Miss Mattie Lou's last few days.... Well, the good Lord fine'ly set me free a'you, Miss Love. My mind and heart was all on her. I knowed she was go'n die, and all I wanted was for her to live. I kept thinkin' back over the years and knowed they was good years. I kept thinkin' how we used to talk in bed at night, how I was go'n miss thet ... how I aw-ready missed it." He took a long breath. "But Miss Love, all sech didn't last past the funeral! After I wrote down her dyin' in the Bible, I turned around and seen you standin' there watchin' me, and from then on—"
"Oh, Mr. Blakeslee! As God is my witness, I never guessed it. Never encouraged—"
"I know thet. I jest wish you had a-encouraged me. Then I could a-risked waitin' a proper time to start courtin' you. As it was, I was twixt the rock and the hard place, afeared somebody else would git you in the meantime. Thet fool Son Black, for instance."
"I would never have married him."
"Well, I didn't know if you would or you wouldn't. On the other hand, if'n I proposed right off, you'd think I was a dirty old man or thet Miss Mattie Lou h
adn't meant nothin' to me. You wouldn't have no respect for me." He sighed, like he was lost in thought. Finally he said, "I commenced goin' by the cemetery ever night after I left the store, Miss Love."
"I know. I heard."
He laughed, soft and kind of rueful. "Hit warn't with me like with pore Miss Ernestine Tiplady. You never knowed her. Miss Ernestine would go to the cemetery ever evenin' to see old Mutt Thet's what she called her husband. She'd tell him how she was feelin' and all, and any news she'd heard, and when she left she'd blow him a kiss and say, 'G'night, Mutt.' Folks seen her do it. Then after while Miss Ernestine got to sayin' g'night to everbody else in the graveyard, callin'm all by name. Pore thang fine'ly commenced passin' the time a-day with'm. Couldn't git home to fix supper for talkin' to dead folks."
He paused. "What I'm sayin', I didn't go to the cemetery to talk to Miss Mattie Lou. But seemed like bein' there calmed me down some." He coughed. "Gosh a'mighty, Miss Love, it's gittin' cold. And my throat's wore out from this here whisperin'. Will Tweedy's asleep. And if'n he ain't.... Well, I ain't studyin' Will Tweedy right now."
At the cemetery, he said, he did wonder sometimes what Miss Mattie Lou would tell him to do if she could talk. "Late one night I was so tired, Miss Love, I jest laid down on the cool fresh dirt. Right on her grave. Hit felt like when we used to lay in bed together talkin'. Uh, I reckon you think I was off in the head."
"No. No, I understand."
"Well, anyhow, it come to me something Miss Mattie Lou said long time ago, back when Mary Willis was on the way. She said, 'Mr. Blakeslee, if God takes me in childbed—' I remember tryin' to hesh her up, but she had it on her mind. She said, 'If'n I pass, I hope I done made livin' with a woman so sweet thet.... Well, find you another wife and I'll take it as a compli-ment.'"
Miss Love started to speak, but he went on, talking low. "Thet shore made it easier to think on marryin' you, Miss Love. It was like she'd give me her blessin'. And whilst I was still a-layin' over her in the dark night, I remembered something else she said one time: 'If'n the Lord calls me first, Mr. Blakeslee, don't be too stingy to hire you a colored woman. I cain't rest easy Up There if you down here wearin' dirty clothes and nobody to see after you.' Thet's what give me the idea to ast you to be my housekeeper."
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 an
d 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.