Is all in readiness? Robert E. Lee asked in his big voice and Sarah said, Yes Sir.
Do you Robert E. Lee take this poor, poor girl to be your lawful wedded wife, to honor and cherish till death do you part? the minister asked.
I do, said Robert E. Lee.
Do you Sarah take Robert E. Lee to be your lawful wedded husband, to honor and cherish, to love and obey until death do you part?
I do, said Sarah.
You may kiss the bride, said the minister, and Mary White put their two faces together. Then for the wedding feast we all ate some scotchbreads that Victoria and Blanche had stole from the press. I used to hate Victoria but now I dont so much since Aunt Cecelia hates her even more. Aunt Cecelia tells us repeatedly not to play with those rough girls as she calls Victoria and Blanche.
• • •
On Sundays we have to keep the Sabbath holy and go to whatever nearby church is holding service, and afterward we can neither play nor work, it is terrible. No games or toys allowed, not even for little Junius. We all have to rest or read tales from Aunt Cecelias special Sunday school books, awful stories about children who go out in boats on Sundays and drown.
We will go to Hell if we play dolls, I whispered to Mary White who lay in bed last Sunday with her eyes closed.
I dont care. She giggled and got right up.
I dont care either, I said as we grabbed up the dolls and ran down the stairs and into the parlor, shutting the door behind us.
It was my turn to tell the love story.
Robert E. Lee went off to War leaving Margaret with a diamond ring and a kiss, but soon he was declared dead in a fearsome battle in Virginia. Then oh how Margaret wept and flung herself face down beating her fists on the floor, oh how she mourned him. Margaret mourned Robert E. Lee for two years and then finally agreed to marry her ugly old neighbor man Mister Snow who just would not leave her alone.
We dressed Margaret up in her white wedding dress and her veil to marry Mister Snow, we stuck little rosebuds on her head. Now all was in readiness and the wedding began. Fleur was Mister Snow.
Mister Snow do you take Mary Margaret Petree to be your lawful wedded wife? the minister asked.
I sure do! Mister Snow said in his big voice.
But just then came the sound of approaching hoofbeats, I said— Mary White made a clicking hoofbeat sound with her tongue— and sure enough, here came Robert E. Lee on his gray horse Traveler to save the day, kicking Mister Snow face down on the floor so he could marry Margaret himself. He was not dead after all!
Then they were happily married for ever and ever amen. Mary White finished the story.
But I got another idea. Now lets do it again and have her marry Mister Snow but be so unhappy crying all day long at her tasks and then Robert E. Lee will come in the night as her demon lover.
For I do not want a husband myself nor a big clawfoot chest full of silver, I want a demon lover and so does Margaret, this is her secret desire.
Mary Whites big blue eyes got bigger. Well, Robert E. Lee cant do that, Molly, she said. Either he is Robert E. Lee or he is a demon lover, one or the other, he cant be both.
Why not? I asked.
Because he just cant. Mary White shook her head so her pigtails flew all around. Robert E. Lee is a gentleman. He is supposed to marry them.
I was getting mad at Mary White who had suddenly got this expression just like Aunt Cecelia on her face.
He doesnt have to, I said. He doesnt have to marry them.
He does so! So they can have babys.
Maybe he doesnt want any babys, I said. All babys do is cry and get sick and die. Maybe Robert E. Lee hates babys.
Oh! Before I knew what was happening, Mary White jumped up and started kicking me hard in the side.
You quit that. I grabbed her legs and pulled her down on the fleur-de-lee carpet. I am a lot bigger and stronger than Mary White but she fought me as hard as she could, all pink in the face now and blubbering. Finally I grabbed her wrists and just lay down on top of her. Will you stop now? I said.
She shook her head back and forth and tried to twist out from under me, but it was not hard to hold her for she is so weak.
Now? I said.
No. Her eyes looked all red and puffy. The blue veins throbbed in her head.
Girls? Girls? Aunt Cecelia was coming down the hall.
My mother did not want a baby. She had me in sin and then went off with a Yankee, Mary White said, and she has never been heard from since.
Never?
Never. Now Mary White sounded like she couldnt breathe so I rolled off her. We lay side by side on our backs on the floor in that dim twilight which always fills the parlor.
Are you all right? I was worried that she might die. Then I would be a murderess.
But she said nothing.
Mary White? I said after a while.
I hate you, she said. Ignorant country girl.
I hate you too, I said.
Mary White lay silent, breathing.
Far away Aunt Cecelia was calling our names.
I’m sorry. I gritted my teeth and said it.
Then, finally, she said, Molly?
Yes?
What is a demon lover?
I dont know, I had to say.
But Dear Diary we are going to find out.
Answer: It is a lover who comes in the night to kiss you on the mouth! Mary White believes it may be an Assyrian.
July 27, 1872
Tiger Butter
We are always in trouble with Aunt Cecelia who makes us work to chasten our souls and improve our attitudes, but we dont care. We like it! Two of our jobs are claying the hearth and making lamplighters out of old letters, rolling the strips at the bottom together for a handle then curling the cut parts at the top with scissors.
We churn for Liddy out under the hackberry tree by the well, with a bunch of leaves tied to the dasher to keep off the flies, and sing at the top of our lungs:
Fee fi fo fum
I smell the blood of an Englishman
Be he alive or be he dead
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread
Fee fi fo fum
Come butter come
And also:
Tiger tiger burning bright
In the forests of the night
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Come butter come
Come butter come
This is a poem from Mary Whites big book. The first time we used it, we had a fight over whether to say symmetree, which Mary White wanted, or symmetry, as in try, which rhymes, which I wanted. Finally we made Washington pick and I won. Liddy and them all get tickled when we do this one. But even Liddy has said, That tiger butter sure is good, girls, and Aunt Cecelia eats so much it is gone right away every time. Mary White and I are the Champion Butter Makers in the county!
August 5, 1872
The Yankee Hand
Several times we have walked down the road and through the woods to Mister Gaithers big field to pick the berries that grow all along the stone fence rows. Liddy makes pies and preserves with these but they are best ate right off the bush in our opinion. Washington gets to go with us then, to shoo off stray dogs and carry the basket, though usually Aunt Cecelia will not permit him to be in Mary Whites company saying, I dont care what you think Junius, he is a servant boy. This is just another example . . .
Yet when we came back from berry picking yesterday, even Aunt Cecelia said, Why upon my soul Mary White, I do believe you are better, this country air must agree with you. She pushed back Mary Whites sunbonnet and stared at her intently, stroking her face with a pudgy finger. Why look you have roses in your cheeks, she said in a different voice, then almost said something else, then turned away abruptly. Go on in the house now and clean yourselves up for supper, and you — to Washington— you run on now, theres a good boy.
Washington headed down to the barn. But first we took the berri
es to Liddy who gave us some clabber to eat and then we ran straight up the stairs to this cubbyhole where we keep all our collections.
Now, I said.
And Mary White said Yes and took it out of her bloomer pocket where we had wrapped it round and round in honeysuckle vines so no one could tell what it was. Careful, be careful, she said as I started slowly pulling the vines away. She jiggled up and down on one foot and held her breath the way she does when excited. Her pale blue eyes were huge. I took my time unwrapping it. But finally it lay revealed on the floor, the bones of a HUMAN HAND minus two fingers and the thumb.
I had almost stepped on it as we were walking home. Just in time I looked down to see two finger bones sticking up out of the ground like flower bulbs growing. It was like they were pointing at the sky. Oh my God, I cried, then, Stop!
They ran back.
Look! I pointed down.
Lord Jesus. Washingtons eyes got real big when he saw it. Less go on now please Molly. Less us go on home.
What! Mary White looked all excited. Then she stuck out her bottom lip. Why we will do no such thing. We are going to dig him up for our phenomena collection, arent we Molly? For this is a poor brave dead soldier.
Oh yes, I said. You all just stay right here, while I ran back to the creek and got two flat rocks for digging. I handed one to Washington. He wouldnt take it.
All right then. I gave it to Mary White. She got down on her knees immediately and started scraping the dirt away. Be careful, she said. We want to keep him all hooked together if we can. Remember that song? How does it go? Then she sang, Headbone connected to the neckbone, neckbone connected to the backbone—
Now hear you the word of the Lord! I sang at the top of my lungs.
But the hand was not connected to anything else, and we didnt find any more bones there either, though we dug for a pretty long time.
Washington refused to help us. Yall is crazy girls, he said from the shade of a tree.
We wrapped the bones in honeysuckle and washed off our hands good in the creek before we left. Now the bones are here in a fancy little box I have had forever, just waiting.
And sure enough, when we asked Uncle Junius about the creek, he said, YES there was indeed a skirmish there toward the end of the war, some of the county home guard surprised by Shermans bummers, and three men dead.
Mary White knows how to do very fancy handwriting with many curls and flourishes. On the shoe box she has written, YANKEE BONES, Property of Mary White Worthington and Molly Petree. This is the jewel of our phenomena collection so far.
August 11, 1872
Dear Diary,
Though Blanche still plays with us sometimes, we had not seen Victoria for days and days. Washington told us she had got in some trouble, but he would not say what kind. So it was a big surprise when she ran in the barn yesterday and threw herself down in the straw and smiled her wide crooked smile which works on Mary White every time.
Well where have you been? Mary White said. And where is Sarah? Dont you want to play dolls?
I am not playing dolls no more, Victoria said. She is all arms and legs now, she has grown up a lot this summer. Her eyes are that dark snapping black like her mothers.
What do you want then? I wanted to get on with our game, in which Margaret and Fleur were getting ready to take a trip to New York City.
I dont know. I just thought I would come over here and find you all. Victoria sighed, which was strange. Usually she is all sass, all get-up-and-go.
Victoria, what happened to your leg? Mary White shrieked, and then I saw it too, the blue imprint of a hand on her pale white thigh.
That was your mama, wasnt it? I said. She hit you.
That is nothing, Victoria said. Looky here. She leaned forward and hiked up her bottom turning slightly so we could see the welts and bruises on the backs of her legs.
Ooh. Thats awful. Mary White shivered.
What did you do? I asked.
I reckon I have got me a boyfriend, Victoria said, and Mama doesnt like it.
Mary White peered at her. A real boyfriend?
Oh yes. Victoria sat back down in the straw and smiled. A real live man doll.
But where did you get him? I asked, for there is nobody like that around here.
He is working with his uncle over at the Bledsoes, Victoria said. They got hired on when Mister Bledsoe got so sick. He’s got red hair, she said.
How old is he? I asked.
Seventeen. She grinned at us.
What is his name? Mary White asked.
His name is Declan Moylan. Victoria said it slow like it was something important. He is Irish. I like the way they talk, it is kind of like music.
Mary White and I stared at her as though she had come from another world. Her black curls fell down all around her long face.
His uncle plays the fiddle for dances, she said. I snuck out and went to one.
You DID? Mary White said.
How do you know how to dance? I asked.
Victoria laughed like her mother. Anybody can dance, she said.
Is that why Selena hit you? I asked.
She doesnt even know about the dance, Victoria said. She never knows where I am anyway, she is over here all the time now. She hit me for something else. Her eyes got big and she leaned forward.
What? Mary White and I said together.
I reckon she caught us, Victoria said.
Caught you what?
Nothing. Victorias face was full of scorn. Just about nothing at all. He come over for a visit and I was showing him my boobies, that is all. That is the only thing that has happened so far. And after all Mama done, I dont know why she even cares. But she started crying and hit him on the shoulder and drove him from the house and said, Oh Victoria I am raising you for better things honey. And then she started in hitting on me. But I am going to get her back. Victoria said this in a way you would not doubt.
We sat very still looking at her.
What are you going to do? Though I hate Victoria, I humbled myself to ask. Never you mind, she said darkly.
It was hot and still in the barn. I was covered in sweat all over. We sat in silence in the straw.
Suddenly Mary White said, Can WE see your boobies? For our collection of phenomena, she added.
Sure. Victoria sat up straight. She pulled up her blouse and chemise and there they were, with pink pointy tips on them. Do you want to touch them? she asked.
No, Mary White said, but thank you very much anyway.
Victoria pulled her clothes down and tucked herself back in again. Ive got to go, she said.
Good bye, we said together as she got up and shook the straw off her skirt and ran out through the wide sunny door, in a big hurry like always.
Mary White and I looked at each other. I felt light headed, like I was excited about something and getting sick all at once.
You know, I believe there is something to all that, Mary White said after a while.
Both our chests are flat as pancakes, flat as boys, at this time.
August 16, 1872
Dear Diary,
Please excuse me for I have no time to write as we are going in to Hills-borough today. Aunt Cecelia is dragging us with her to have a fancy lunch with the widow Muriel Brown who keeps a great house overlooking the river and knows how to live in style. You girls are perfect bumpkins in spite of my efforts! Aunt Cecelia said. So Mary White and I have had many lessons about the lunch. I am sick to death of it all ready.
Aunt Cecelia is the bane of our existence, I have recently read this phrase which surely applies to her. She makes us sew and do sums and raps our knuckles with a ruler if we get them wrong. Personally, I prefer literature. I take after my father, a poet and a gentleman, I told her. She turned up her big nose and sniffed.
Well Molly I sincerely hope that will not be the case, she said. Nor should you wish to follow your mothers example, though luckily there is no one here to spoil you the way they all spoiled Alice. Its a
good thing Alice is dead, in fact, she could not exist in this new world. And as for you, you had best get your feet on the ground and fast.
Mary White likes poetry too, I said. We are memorizing Wyncken, Blynken, and Nod right now. So does Uncle Junius, I said, not entirely for spite remembering all of a sudden how he used to stride up and down the parlor reading Robert Burns My love is like a red red rose thats newly sprung in June, and Tam O Shanter and My hearts in the highlands wherever I go. I cannot imagine him doing this now.
Aunt Cecelia looked at me and pushed her face together. Go change your shoes, she said. Virgil is down there with the wagon, we are leaving now!
August 17, 1872
Dear Diary,
Now we have seen a magic lantern! Which showed a running horse. And eaten snow pudding from cut glass bowls while a little negro boy waved a fan over the table to keep off the flies. Then walked through the streets with two sissy daughters while the big town clock struck three. Aunt Cecelia fell asleep in the wagon and snored all the way home while Mary White and I played Twenty Questions. I was Pandora and Annabelle Lee.
Once here we ran to the Willow House, we were so glad to be back. We would HATE to be town girls!
Oh yes. We have found another Fairy Ring in the Big Woods on the way to Mama Marie and Aunt Mittys house.
Do I want to be taken off by a demon lover, like Madeline gliding past the sleeping dragons with Porphyro to his home oer the southern moors across the fairy sea? Or do I want to BE one, like the snaky Lamia or La Belle Dame Sans Merci who walks by the withered sage where no birds sing?
This is a hard decision.
October 19, 1872
Dear Diary,
Fall is here with a chill in the air and Mary White lies very sick. I know why but can not tell it. Four nights ago was another full moon and so we went to see the fairies hunting as we had tried to do twice before. You only get three tries, Mary White said. She knows all the fairy rules.