special note to Zanny was abbreviated to “Sweet Zanny, I miss you, and soon we will be in each other’s arms.
Love,
Luther
When she got to the fall of 1916, there were several letters; monthly letters from November through March of 1917. These letters, although they were the same speech patterns as the previous letters, had a different tone. Although there still were personal notes to Zanny, Susan thought they were contrived.
Chapter 10
Glimpses into Grandma Zanny’s Soul
Willson’s Cove, North Carolina, 1916
As Susan read these letters from 1916, she felt as though she was touching Zanny’s soul. The hurt, the courage, and the longing overwhelmed her.
*****
Mail service was always slow in the mountains. Although there had been a post office established in Boone in 1904, it might take a couple of weeks before it arrived over the mountain to Willson’s Cove. The first one was written October 18, 1916, and postmarked November 1, 1916. Zanny penciled on the envelope November 21.
Susan could almost hear her grandma say, “La mercy! Hit took three weeks to git here. That’s the longest ever.”
Opening the letter, Zanny would have devoured it, hoping he would return to the sweet talk from his old letters. A tear dropped and blurred the writing in a couple of places. Susan wondered if Grandma was sad and angry because Grandpa chose to leave her for half the year. Or was she grateful and happy that he was well and making some money to send home? Another short one and not so sweet.
Dear Suzanny and children,
I got here safe and have a right nice place to stay. I’m taking board with a widder woman and her maiden daughter. They’ve been kind [smudged from tears?] to take in a travelin’ feller. As soon as I got money to send back, I will. I know y’all need it. So far, I ain’t sold nuthin’, but I done met a feller yesterday who is mighty interested. The weather is good, although we are still alert for hurrycanes. Back in July, there was a biggun. I like bein’ here this time of the year because the weather is so nice, and the sunsets over the bay are better than any I ever seen.
Love you all,
Papa
The remainder of letters from that year were all about the same: a paucity of romance. A few admonitions for the children and wanting to know how two-year-old Herbie was doing. He told her of sales he had made and that he had been asked to give mountain music concerts at a local restaurant. He went so far as to suggest that he was playing in church without actually saying it:
They’s lots of churches here too. One a few blocks from where I’m staying.
In another letter, he described the beauty of one of the churches, comparing it to the little log church where they met back home. Susan figured it would have been a relief to her grandmother, thinking he was going to church and maybe even playing his banjo.
Grandma used to say, “They’s lots o’ folk ’round here been saved cause of his playin’ and preachin’.”
Luther’s letters came regularly but were always at least two weeks behind when they were postmarked. They were all the same tone. After Delphy as born, Zanny sent him a letter—one of the few in the pile from her to him—telling him of the event.
Dear Luther,
Done had our eighth young’un. Hit’s another girl. Pretty as a picture with a full head of red hair. I named her Delphy after your aunt Delphy. I hope you like that as a name. I miss you so much. Wish I could go to sleep with you huggin’ me next to yer chest. I’ll be a-lookin’ my eyes out till first of April. I heared maybe our country’s about to get into the war in Europe. I hope Luther and Roby won’t join up. They’s old enough. Love you more than I can express. I cain’t write those pretty words like you do.
Zanny
His response to this letter was less than what Zanny had expected. The letter showed signs that it had been crumpled up and then smoothed out again. There were tear stains on it. Susan thought it should have infuriated her when she read it. I’d have fled to this room and plopped right down on his rocker and rock like the dickens till I was calmed down. She put action to her thoughts and rocked.
Zanny,
I’m glad you had an easy labor, but a redhead? Never been a redhead in my family (except for Dook), and I don’t know any in yours. Not sure I’d claim it to be mine!
Susan knew that her grandma’s heart hurt. She could hear Grandma say, “Delphy is his. I ain’t ne’er even looked at another man, and I don’t ne’er want one.”
There was more to that letter, mostly what he was doing and that he felt better than he had for years by staying in warm climate over the winter.
Subsequent letters throughout January till Luther got home in April were pleasant, a little playful, but lacked the ardent romance that was in the early letters.
I wonder if she tried to light a new fire in his heart when he came home. I’m remembering some of what Grandma used to tell me about the family. They had their life here whether Grandpa was around or not.
Each of the older children still at home had special duties to perform. Luther was married and lived a few yards up the road; Roby was off working in the woods and cutting trees down to send to the sawmill. He stayed at Luther’s house what times he was home.
Although Rancie, Harvey, and Coliah were in school, they were good workers. But Rancie was a big help at home. She could cook, clean, do the laundry, and mind the little ones. Harvey had charge of the firewood, keeping the house warm, and heating water. Coliah, not as healthy as the other children, was good at her job to watch Herbie, to keep him from getting too close to the fireplace or the cookstove. Ossie’s job was to pick up things Herbie played with on the floor and to set the table for meals.
Susan could only imagine the heartrending her grandma endured, especially the letter suggesting that if the baby had red hair it wasn’t his. She saw a paperweight on the table beside her and wanted to throw it at his picture on the wall. She read on through 1917 through 1920. Her eyes were tired from attempting to decipher his beautiful, but difficult to read, script. She put the letters aside for later and went back to the attic. She had no idea what she would find or even why it would be important. One thing she did know was Grandma had a horrible life, and she loved her for it.
Susan decided it was time to take a break.
Chapter 11
Mac Searches for Clues
Willson’s Cove, North Carolina
Meanwhile Mac and Mike were having a great time in Grandpa’s workshop. The tools were old, but with a little cleaning off dust and a spot of WD-40 here and there, they should work well.
“Mike, what would you take for all these tools? I can pay you what you think they are worth, within reason.”
“Aw, Mac. I dearly hate to sell ’em. They didn’t just belong to Grandpa, they are Grandpa. They’re him. I used to come in here with him before he died, and he’d work while I played in the sawdust with scraps of stuff he’d throw on the floor. Tell you what, ye wanna come over here and work here in the shop, you kin do it ary time ye want. I don’t have to be here, and I’ll give ye a key.”
“Deal!”
They looked through every little drawer and all the nooks and crannies in the shop, but there was one door that was locked. Mac tried it, but Mike shook his head.
“Never been in there. Grandpa wouldn’t let no one go in there, and I don’t e’en have a key that fits the lock. I’ve looked high and low in here and never found it. But I’m a-feared to go in there.”
“How about getting a locksmith?”