BLACKWATER:The Mysterious Saga of the Caskey Family by Michael McDowell Page A
Authors: Michael McDowell
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Genevieve in Moose Paw, Saskatchewan!"
"Mama," said Sister patiently, "I never ever heard of that place." It was the habit of mother and daughter to maintain contradictory stances on any question: if Mary-Love were excited, then Sister remained calm. If Sister waxed indignant, then Mary-Love became conciliatory. The technique had developed over the course of many years, and now was so natural to them that they did it without thinking or willing it to be so.
"I made it up. But, Sister, James got rid of that woman—we don't know how, we are just grateful that he did—and what does he do first chance he gets?"
"What?"
"He takes in another who's just as bad!"
"Miss Elinor?" asked Sister in a voice which suggested she didn't think the comparison was justified.
"You knew who I was talking about, Sister."
It was hard to rock steadily on the front porch now that so many of the floorboards had been warped. Grady Henderson's Fancy Goods Store had brought in a shipment of scented candles, which were bought up immediately. One of them burned now in a saucer on the floor between Mary-Love and Sister; its scent of vanilla did something to cover the rank-ness of the river soil that had been deposited all around the house. Bray and three men from the mill, which wasn't yet back in operation, were systematically turning over all the dirt in the front yard, burying what had been laid down by the flood.
"Mama, your voice carries. Don't let Miss Elinor hear you."
"She won't hear me unless she's listening at the window," replied Mary-Love, in an even louder voice. "And I wouldn't be in the least surprised if she were!"
"What don't you like about her?" asked Sister mildly. "I like her. I don't see any reason not to like her, to tell you the truth, Mama."
"I do. I see every reason in the world." Mary-Love paused a moment, then suggested: "She has red hair."
"Lots of people have red hair. That McCall boy I went to school with—you remember him?—who died at Verdun last year, he had red hair. You told me you liked him."
"Oh, not like this woman, Sister! You ever see a color like hers? A color like Perdido mud? I never have. Besides, it's not just the red hair."
"What is it, then?"
"Where did she come from? Why did she come to Perdido? What does she want? How did she get James to ask her to come and live with him? Has James ever asked any other young lady to sit at his table?"
"No, Mama, of course not. But Miss Elinor answered all those questions. Oscar told you all the answers. She came from Fayette County, and she came down here to teach. She heard there was an opening."
"There wasn't!"
"Then she was wrong, Mama, but there's an opening now. Miz McGhee has already sent three postcards from Tallahassee. That's what I heard."
"She made that opening."
"She didn't, Mama. How can you say that? The flood made that opening. High water caused that vacancy in the schoolroom!"
Mary-Love frowned and stood from her chair. "I haven't seen her pass a window in ten minutes. I wonder what she's doing in there? I'll bet she's plundering drawers!"
"She's helping clean up. James told me he had never seen anybody work as hard as she did in a house that wasn't her own."
Mary-Love sat down again and began plying her needle furiously. "You know what I think, Sister? I think she gone try to talk James into getting a divorce from Genevieve so she can take right over. That's why she's working so hard on that house— because she thinks it's gone be hers! A divorce! Can you even think of it, Sister?"
"Mama, you cain't stand Genevieve." "Well, I don't think James should get a divorce. I think Genevieve should die or go away forever. What does James need with a wife? James has got little Grace—:now is that child sweet? And he has got you and me and Oscar right next door. If James wanted, I would cut down every last one of these camellia bushes—they're practically dead now anyway—and he could see us every time he looked out the window. You know
"Mama," said Sister patiently, "I never ever heard of that place." It was the habit of mother and daughter to maintain contradictory stances on any question: if Mary-Love were excited, then Sister remained calm. If Sister waxed indignant, then Mary-Love became conciliatory. The technique had developed over the course of many years, and now was so natural to them that they did it without thinking or willing it to be so.
"I made it up. But, Sister, James got rid of that woman—we don't know how, we are just grateful that he did—and what does he do first chance he gets?"
"What?"
"He takes in another who's just as bad!"
"Miss Elinor?" asked Sister in a voice which suggested she didn't think the comparison was justified.
"You knew who I was talking about, Sister."
It was hard to rock steadily on the front porch now that so many of the floorboards had been warped. Grady Henderson's Fancy Goods Store had brought in a shipment of scented candles, which were bought up immediately. One of them burned now in a saucer on the floor between Mary-Love and Sister; its scent of vanilla did something to cover the rank-ness of the river soil that had been deposited all around the house. Bray and three men from the mill, which wasn't yet back in operation, were systematically turning over all the dirt in the front yard, burying what had been laid down by the flood.
"Mama, your voice carries. Don't let Miss Elinor hear you."
"She won't hear me unless she's listening at the window," replied Mary-Love, in an even louder voice. "And I wouldn't be in the least surprised if she were!"
"What don't you like about her?" asked Sister mildly. "I like her. I don't see any reason not to like her, to tell you the truth, Mama."
"I do. I see every reason in the world." Mary-Love paused a moment, then suggested: "She has red hair."
"Lots of people have red hair. That McCall boy I went to school with—you remember him?—who died at Verdun last year, he had red hair. You told me you liked him."
"Oh, not like this woman, Sister! You ever see a color like hers? A color like Perdido mud? I never have. Besides, it's not just the red hair."
"What is it, then?"
"Where did she come from? Why did she come to Perdido? What does she want? How did she get James to ask her to come and live with him? Has James ever asked any other young lady to sit at his table?"
"No, Mama, of course not. But Miss Elinor answered all those questions. Oscar told you all the answers. She came from Fayette County, and she came down here to teach. She heard there was an opening."
"There wasn't!"
"Then she was wrong, Mama, but there's an opening now. Miz McGhee has already sent three postcards from Tallahassee. That's what I heard."
"She made that opening."
"She didn't, Mama. How can you say that? The flood made that opening. High water caused that vacancy in the schoolroom!"
Mary-Love frowned and stood from her chair. "I haven't seen her pass a window in ten minutes. I wonder what she's doing in there? I'll bet she's plundering drawers!"
"She's helping clean up. James told me he had never seen anybody work as hard as she did in a house that wasn't her own."
Mary-Love sat down again and began plying her needle furiously. "You know what I think, Sister? I think she gone try to talk James into getting a divorce from Genevieve so she can take right over. That's why she's working so hard on that house— because she thinks it's gone be hers! A divorce! Can you even think of it, Sister?"
"Mama, you cain't stand Genevieve." "Well, I don't think James should get a divorce. I think Genevieve should die or go away forever. What does James need with a wife? James has got little Grace—:now is that child sweet? And he has got you and me and Oscar right next door. If James wanted, I would cut down every last one of these camellia bushes—they're practically dead now anyway—and he could see us every time he looked out the window. You know
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