Part 1 (2/2)
Pris felt the power of their love and knew it was real.
”Bobby Lee, will you marry me?”
Mr. and Mrs. Blackburn insisted they wait two years. Priscilla knew it wasn't because they didn't approve of her. People thought Pris was attractive because of the confidence she showed, and everybody thought she had a sensible way about her.
”Mark my words, now, darlin',” Granny Maeve had told her. ”A pa.s.sionate love can make the sanest person act plumb crazy.” The wedding was still a year off when the old woman pa.s.sed away in her sleep.
Priscilla's mother had agreed with the Blackburns from the start. ”You two have all the time in the world. First thing you need to do is get to work and save some money.”
Despite the good pay, Bobby Lee was afraid to become a coal miner like his father, so he went to work at his uncle's auto repair shop on the south end of town. Mr. Blackburn liked to tease his son about being claustrophobic, but Pris knew that a recurring nightmare had kept Bobby Lee from following in his daddy's footsteps. He'd started having the dream when he was fifteen and it was always the same-he found himself falling into a dark hole, deep into the earth where no one could hear him scream. The walls of his prison would begin to collapse and he would suffocate.
Pris refused to ridicule Bobby Lee for his fears. He worked hard to be a decent mechanic, and in six months he was able to rent the apartment over his uncle's garage.
They fell into a comfortable routine, waiting for their wedding day to arrive. Priscilla's mother owned a diner called Rolly's, in honor of Pris' late father. Pris waited tables there and raised an herb and vegetable garden for produce to sell on the side. In the spring and summer she sold berries and mountain wildflowers-daisies were her favorite.
During the work week, Bobby Lee would spend his lunch hour with Pris. She'd bring him sandwiches from the restaurant and they would talk about the future and how many children they would have and how one day Bobby Lee might own his own repair shop.
Priscilla's desire for Bobby Lee only grew stronger as the months wore on. Despite numerous lectures from his devoutly religious parents, they spent time alone together at his apartment. But Pris preferred to make love on her mountain in the special places she'd discovered while digging ginseng and gathering mushrooms and wildflowers.
Once the weather turned warm, she would take Bobby Lee up there late at night whenever the moon made an appearance. They would lie together on a well-worn patchwork quilt in a hidden meadow surrounded by daisies. Bobby Lee would play with her waist-length hair and weave flowers through the unruly tresses.
Then it would be Pris' turn to play. She'd caress every beautiful inch of him, ma.s.saging his tense, sore muscles with scented oils, relis.h.i.+ng the way his body responded to her touch, his moans of pleasure sending delicious tingles down her spine. She would wait until her own physical needs overwhelmed her senses before allowing their l.u.s.t to mix with the moonlight.
Deep in that world of forgetting, Pris would nearly sacrifice her soul becoming one with Bobby Lee. She'd wallow in his essence until they were both spent and shuddering.
Afterward, she would lie on top of him gasping, clutching handfuls of his damp chest hair-afraid that if she let go, she'd float off the mountain, a victim of euphoria. Bobby Lee would talk softly then, teasing her, knowing she wouldn't be able to respond for several minutes.
”Priscilla, Princess of Moonlight and Magic, I wonder if you're fertile enough to bear me a dozen young'uns in eight years.”
On the last Sat.u.r.day in March, Pris' mountain swallowed Bobby Lee Blackburn whole. He'd been helping Priscilla search for mushrooms that afternoon near an abandoned coal mine. A collapsing tunnel system had resulted in what the old-timers called a ”mountain break”-a rift in the earth above, this one well-hidden by foliage. The hole Bobby Lee had fallen into was eight feet across and hundreds of feet deep. After three days of risky recovery efforts, rescue workers from a local mining company gave up and went home.
The young man's sudden death shocked all of Russell Fork into a grieving silence. The tragedy was whispered about, though no one-not even the Blackburn family-outwardly blamed Priscilla for the incident.
Pris wanted to lock herself away from the town's sympathetic outpouring, but her mother forced her to attend the funeral.
Bobby Lee's parents chose to have the service on the mountain, close to his final resting place. Volunteers cleared the area of brush and vegetation and set up tents and chairs for the mourners. Bobby Lee's sweet young cousin tearfully sang a few hymns in the suns.h.i.+ne and then a Baptist preacher prayed about the loss that was G.o.d's will. A touching eulogy followed, given by Bobby Lee's uncle.
Kara Chambers cried. Priscilla couldn't shed one tear.
No, it wasn't until after the funeral reception that she gave in to an onslaught of raw emotions. She sobbed all night, constantly reliving the conversation she'd had with Kara at the Blackburns' house.
Pris had been hiding in a corner of the living room, in view of the buffet. She had no interest in food. The dining room was crammed with hungry, black-clad mourners who would murmur the usual plat.i.tudes whenever they b.u.mped into a member of Bobby Lee's family.
Apparently, Kara didn't feel like eating either. She approached Priscilla timidly, as if she was afraid Pris might bolt out of her chair and run away.
”What do you want, Kara?”
Bobby Lee's ex-girlfriend let out a tiny sigh. She looked even prettier when she was sad. ”I hate funerals. I usually don't know what to say.”
”It would be better if people said nothing at all.”
”Oh. Right.” Kara started to walk away, and then paused. When she turned around again, Pris could see tears glistening on her long eyelashes.
”I was so stupid to break up with Bobby Lee. I only hope you realize how much he truly loved you, Pris.”
Priscilla gave her a frigid stare. ”I don't think you'll ever understand how we felt about each other.”
”I didn't, but I do now.” Kara dabbed her eyes with a tissue. ”Look, I'm not telling you this to be mean, but the truth is I thought Bobby Lee got engaged just to make me jealous. He came to see me at The Blossom Shop that morning before he died, and I wanted to believe he was having second thoughts. I...I tried to kiss him, but he stopped me. He was there to place a special order for your wedding night-dozens of daisies for your hotel room down in Bristol.”
Pris swallowed hard, suddenly feeling light-headed. Stop it, Kara. Stop talking and let me go home.
”People used to think Bobby Lee was crazy about me, but he loved you more, Pris. I could see it in his eyes when he was talking about you, and I just thought you'd want to know.”
On Sat.u.r.day, the sixteenth of April, Priscilla dragged herself out of bed and opened the windows in her room. She inhaled the fresh warm air, her vision blurred by tears instead of sunlight.
”It's so beautiful, Bobby Lee. No rain on our wedding day.”
She wished there was a terrible storm raging outside. She wished it would destroy Kara's big brick house and her family's businesses and all of Russell Fork.
Pris backed away from the window and eyed the prescription bottle on her nightstand. Just a few of those pills would knock her out for several hours, and when she finally woke up again, this painful day would be over.
But will tomorrow be any better?
Priscilla had been sleeping in Bobby Lee's favorite Wildcats T-s.h.i.+rt. It smelled faintly of his spicy aftershave and she didn't want to change out of it. She had no appet.i.te anyway, so there was no reason to go downstairs. Her mother would be working at the restaurant most of the day.
If only she could talk to Granny Maeve.
Pris swallowed a couple of the little white pills and then walked across the hall into her grandmother's cool, dark bedroom. She crawled over into the middle of the feather mattress and buried herself under the heavy quilt. When she drifted off, she dreamed about the past.
Priscilla was thirteen again, sitting in the rocker in her granny's bedroom, turning the crinkly, delicate pages of a brown leather journal and trying to read the faded pa.s.sages. The enthralling book of spells and rituals had first belonged to Millicent-Granny Maeve's own grandmother.
Near the middle of the journal, Pris came across a section called The Waking of The Dead. It was a ritual for calling back the spirits of those who had pa.s.sed on to the other side. Just as she began reading the steps necessary to carry out the ceremony, Granny Maeve walked into the room.
”No, child.” The old woman rushed over and s.n.a.t.c.hed the journal out of Priscilla's hands. ”You ain't old enough yet to learn these spells.” Her expression softened when she saw the hurt look on Pris' face. ”But don't you worry none-it won't be too long before this book is yours.”
Priscilla woke up from the dream. It's mine now.
She shook off her grogginess and hurried downstairs to make a pot of coffee. Late afternoon suns.h.i.+ne poured into the kitchen.
What had happened to the journal? Granny Maeve had kept it in her nightstand until she'd caught Pris reading it, and then it had been moved.
Priscilla started her search in the cellar, looking through a cedar chest filled with musty-smelling clothes and a bunch of old storage bins that overflowed with greeting cards, letters and photographs. No sign of the diary.
<script>