This chapter covers a big stretch of time and some really serious stuff, so I wanted to take my time with it. That being said, sorry it's been so long but hopefully the result was worth it. A major thanks to: guest, Dotty Vintage, 26RH, Captain Nny, Laura Page Turner, annechou59, country strong '89, and Kay1104. As always, your more than kind words are so dearly loved and appreciated. I'm so glad you adore the story as much as I do! This story, without a doubt, has to be the most emotionally exhausting work I've ever done; and it makes me so happy to see, from your words, that it shows.
Enjoy.
Chapter Ten
The following days passed quickly. The entire family was in a state of awful sorrow and fear. Jack felt like he was still in the twilight before sleep and wakefulness. Emmy knelt by the water pump, wringing the laundry between her tiny, red fingers as she rocked back and forth. Howard sat awkwardly on the front step, long legs angled in front of him, hat in his hands, his slab-like face blank. Their father stood quietly for hours in the dim hallway like a ghost. Ellie May lingered at the kitchen sink, eyes fixed on Forrest's bedroom door, her chest permanently clenched.
Their mother, Belva, Era, and Forrest were bedridden, their skin puckered a strange shade of blue. The Spanish Lady Flu had struck them down mercilessly. They were exhausted but couldn't sleep. Their stomachs perpetually churned with hunger but they could hold down no food. They were miserable and there was nothing to be done except wait.
On the morning his mother died, Jack stood by his father's chair and Papa Bondurant put his hand on his son's shoulder as he gazed out the window toward the long road. Howard leaned against the stove, arms crossed over his broad chest, frowning at the floor. Beside him stood Ellie May, a sobbing Emmy clinging tightly to her chest.
"Oh, y'all," moaned their father. His voice was disturbing, possibly more disturbing than the sight of their dead mother laid out on the floor covered with a quilt. It was raw and pained, agony seeping through as it quaked with a hurt they'd never known their father to feel. "It's all gone."
Howard raised his head and stared at his father.
"All the goodness has gone out of the world," he continued pitifully. There were tears on his father's face and Jack's heart squeezed like a fist. Though he tried hard not to, he broke down and sobbed on his father's shoulder.
Belva died a day later, followed immediately by Era.
Finally, Papa had suffered all he could stomach. He locked himself away in the bedroom he'd shared with his wife and stayed there for nearly four days. He could not take the loss of the woman he loved dearly, much less the loss of his two eldest daughters, too. The pain was more than he could take and Howard feared his father might do something drastic. Something like take his own life. On the morning of the fourth day, Howard was seconds from breaking the door down when he heard the floorboards creak and the door opened. Though his father looked directly into his eyes, he saw straight through Howard and turned without a word, walking straight out the back door.
Forrest lay in bed like a stone that week, his face impassive and leaden, refusing to eat anything in spite of Ellie May's pleas and cries. She was so worried for him. First his mother, then both of the girls, was Forrest next? But suddenly one morning he rose from his bed. When he emerged, his body gaunt and wasted, his eyes sunken, to join what remained of his family at the breakfast table, it was as if his strength had withered and focused itself like a leather strap. He was testing the last little bit of life within him.
Their sisters' bodies had joined their mother's on the floor beneath the quilt. Nobody said anything.
After the loss of the other women, Ellie May was forced to fulfill the caretaker role for the younger ones, more so Emmy than Jack, who shadowed Forrest day in and day out. She also took over as the leader of the household. She prepared the meals, dictated the little ones' chores, oversaw the laundry and housekeeping. She became the surrogate mother.
It was easier at first than she imagined. Her body ran on instinct and pure resolve. She pushed herself, trying to accomplish alone the tasks that it had previously taken four women to complete, because it had to be done. She ran on little-to-no sleep, shutting off all emotion and acting without thought. Her moves were compulsory, automatic, and when the next morning came she'd rise to do it all over again, despite the sleepy sting in her eyes and the ache in her limbs. There was no other option.
It seemed that no one attempted to cope with the massive loss but, after that first week, no one mourned outright, either. Grieving was too painful of a reminder, so everyone continued on as if nothing had changed. Yet, nothing was the same. Papa withdrew into himself, as did Forrest. Howard had once again taken to keeping away from the house, staying out all through the night; when he returned sometime near dawn, he reeked of corn liquor and collapsed into his bed like a dead man. Jack was often left alone to himself, aimlessly wandering in the barns, long fields, and wooden stretches that made up the farm. Emmy was in a constantly teary-eyed state, whimpering to herself and rocking in place. Always rocking. And Ellie May cleaned.
With their father in his nearly comatose state, Forrest doubled his efforts on the farm, doing what his father no longer could. His body was still weak from the sickness and in the evenings his limbs and torso ached with a rawness so strong he trembled from it. The pads of his fingers were cracked, the skin of his knuckles chaffing. His calves and shoulders twitched at night as he lay in bed. But like Ellie May, he pushed on through the pain and exhaustion because the work had to be done and if he didn't do it, who would?
Howard tried to help his little brother in their father's stead, and Forrest knew he was honestly trying. But most mornings when Forrest would rise before dawn, his body groaning, preparing for a laborious day, Howard would be just arriving home, his eyes bloodshot and weary, his breath sour. He wouldn't see Forrest as he stomped through the kitchen to pass out on his cot, his giant body falling limply to the floor. Howard would sleep off the white lightening for a few hours before joining Forrest in the fields. Wasted from a night of drinking, his work was sluggish and half-assed. This meant that Forrest often had to go back behind Howard to correct his sloppy work, making his big brother's presence more of a hindrance than a helping hand.
They carried on this way for roughly two weeks. Then, Forrest decided he'd had enough. Forrest snapped on ole Howard like a bear trap, his face glowing red, the veins in his neck and forehead springing to life. He was sick of Howard's shit, he'd yelled. If Howard didn't quit drinkin' he might as well stop coming home.
'Course, Howard didn't rightly like that too much and he seized Forrest by his uppers arms, "What did you say to me, boy?!"
It was the first time Howard had ever laid hands on Forrest in anger. Granted, it was also the first time Forrest had ever blown a gasket. Even when his temper burned white hot so bad his hands shook and he saw red, Forrest had always been able to maintain control of himself. But in the days following the loss of his mother and sisters, most of his efforts were spent controlling the swelling grief within him, with little thought given to much else.
Though his body was still recovering, and in spite of Howard being nearly a foot taller, Forrest managed to rip himself from his big brother's hold and bring the other man to his knees. "Don't you put your hands on me like that again, you hear me?" growled Forrest, his chest heaving heavily as he refrained from striking his brother about the face.
Howard, shocked stupid that Forrest had been able to knock him down, teetered on the ground attempting to regain composure. He grumbled and narrowed his eyes, climbing to his feet. He pointed a finger at Forrest, "Don't you go gettin' a big head. Only reason you was able to do that 'cause I'm-"
"Lit?" offered Forrest. He'd calmed a bit and all the previous traces of rage had left his voice. "Yeah, I know. That's the problem. Howard, you can't keep on like this."
"You ain't my daddy, For'est," grunted Howard.
"You damn right, I ain't. And that man in there," he motioned the house. "He ain't our daddy, either. Not no more. He's changed, Howard. We all have and that's somethin' we gone have to account for. I can't keep picking up after you. Now, either get your shit together and sober up, or we're gonna lose the farm."
His big brother scoffed, bitterly muttering, "Ain't you bein' a little dramatic?" But there was a scared truth in Howard's eyes.
Forrest licked his lip thoughtfully. He said nothing, his mind and body spent, but gazed at his brother. Howard was amazed that his little brother, someone years younger and feet smaller than him, could pin him with one stare and make him feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Guilt rippled through him, mixing with the bits of mountain liquor that lingered in his blood. Howard's lips curled. "Fuck you, Forrest," he spat. And with that, he turned and slunk off into the woods. Five days would pass before they'd see him again.
About three months before Forrest and the women contracted the Spanish Lady Flu, the eighteenth amendment to the Constitution was ratified. Prohibition, they called it, because the new amendment prohibited making, selling, and transporting any and all liquor within, to, or from, the United States. Basically, the government was tryin' to outlaw booze in America. As most folks can image, that didn't go too well. In major cities there was big uproar but mostly everyone turned a blind eye, drinking and carryin' on without so much as a second thought.
For Franklin County, prohibition came at the wrong time. The county was still suffering the plague of Spanish Lady Flu and didn't rightly have time to give two shits about what the government said. All that stump whiskey they were making in the mountains was about the only thing gettin' folks by. Someone got the flu and they're hurtin'? Give 'em some mule. That was the way it worked. No government law was gonna change that.
Well, a couple of months later, the Volstead Act was passed. The Act was meant to enforce the law, since all over the country folks were pretending like prohibition was optional, leaving an understaffed federal service to try and shut down all production and distribution. Mostly the feds went after big cities, especially in the north east; Chicago, New York, Boston, Baltimore, and the like. With the need of liquor rising in the cities, production in the country rose to an all-time high.
Following the final bout of the Spanish Lady Flu, dozens of farms throughout Franklin County failed. For some, it was because the land had ruined and the crops died when the families quarantined themselves. But mostly, it was because too many families lost their sons. Without sons, who was there to plow the fields, to shuffle the hay? That's when a lot of those men turned to making booze. Nearly everyone in Franklin County knew how to make the stuff. Wasn't no big secret. And, hell, since their farms were useless and there was a big call for liquor from the cities, men went to making mountain whiskey full-time. Like it was a great career, or somethin'.
Danny Mitchell, Howard's buddy, had an old still up in Turkey Cock Mountain. Those five days that Howard was gone, he was lost in the underbrush of the mountain, chugging down white lightening with Danny as they repaired the still's stove furnace and thump keg. "We gone make a shit ton of money, Howard. You know that? I heard the Duling brothers from West Virginia sold a load of their whiskey all the way to Floyd County. Can you imagine? Guess there ain't no length a man won't go to get some drank."
Howard had listened carefully as Danny told him all about it. About how J. O. Shively, Arthur Land, Gummy Coleman, and even little Tom Cundiff were getting serious about selling. The whole idea seemed funny to Howard. These boys, their whole lives were spent brewing up small batches of stump whiskey in the mountains. But most of the stuff they churned out was about as good as horseshit. What made them think folks was gone buy it?
"So whatta you say, Howard? You gone get in on it?" asked Danny. There was no missing the exhilarated underbelly of his voice. He stared at Howard with wide eyes and a crooked grin.
It's amazing, thought Howard, that we both made it back from the war. Considering together we got about the same sense as a goat.
Howard gave a short nod. "Sure, Danny. Let's do it."
"Aw, great. Shit, man, this is just great. What'chu gonna do with all your dough? Me? I'm gonna buy me a new house. That shack we livin' in now ain't fit to house chickens."
What would Howard do with the money? Howard suddenly thought of his wife, Lucy, in Penbrook. He thought of their modest home where the water was barely warm and the rats had more to eat than his wife did. His stomach flipped painfully. He could feel the liquor burning his throat, feel the familiar stinging sensation behind his eyes. Forrest was right; he was damn near useless. Flopping back into the grass, Howard's gaze got lost in the sky.
Maybe he'd buy a new house too. Yeah, Danny, he'd buy a house, too.
Her fingers hurt and her eyes were damn nearing crying, they stung so bad from lack of sleep. Feeling a crick starting in her neck, Ellie May set down the fabric and sewing needle to roll her shoulders and neck. There came a pop!, then another, and she heaved a sigh. Outside the sky was an endless stretch of black velvet, the twinkling stars reminding her of the fireflies lighting up that mountain all those many months ago. The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep, save for her. Tomorrow Jack and Emmy would return to school, though there was no guarantee how long Jack would get to stay. She'd overheard Forrest and Papa talking it over. They needed Jack in field, apparently more than Jack needed school. The thought made Ellie May quiver with sadness. It was bad enough that she had to quit school now, but little Jack, too? He was barely ten years old.
Picking the needling back up, she went back to her sewing. For the last three weeks, she'd been sewing a new dress for Emmy. Not only did she need new clothes for school, but the poor girl needed a good surprise for once. She'd been a mess since her mother and sisters died. Something wasn't right with Emmy now. Something was off. It wasn't right, a child her age loosin' her momma. Ellie May had no idea what to do but she figured the dress was as good a start as any.
There came an abrupt thud outside. She stilled, listening. It could've been a rabbit, or a possum. But moments later when the screen door creaked open, Ellie May reckoned it was something a bit bigger than a possum. Fearful, she eyed the shotgun by the stove but before she dared move, the intruder seemed to stump his foot and spat, "Damn chair." She recognized the voice instantly.
Nostrils flaring, she threw Emmy's dress onto empty couch cushion beside her and flew into the kitchen. Howard stumbled backward upon her entrance, his eyes wide. "What're you doing up, ain't it passed your bedtime?"
"What're you doing back here?" she seethed.
Howard's eyes turned to slits. "This is my house. This is my family."
Ellie May gave a strangled laugh. Was he trying to intimidate her? "You damn sure don't act like it."
His lip curled in anger, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I haven't seen you do a single thing to help this family in months-"
"Don't you pretend you know what I'm going through. Momma, and Bel-"
"You think you're the only one who lost someone? Howard, your daddy is falling apart. That man is all but gone. It's up to you and Forrest now to take care of this farm and, quite frankly, I don't see you doing shit." Howard's eyes flamed and his mouth opened to spit out what Ellie May was sure to be something foul but she poked him firmly in the chest, her teeth gritting, "I don't think so. I'm so sick of everyone tip-toeing around your feelings. I won't pretend to understand what you went through in the war but that's no excuse for what you've been doing lately. Your family is falling apart and you're sitting back watching it happen. Do you know they're gonna pull Jack out of school? Forrest can't handle the whole damn farm by himself so in a few weeks Jack might not get to keep going to class."
"What? Ain't no reason for Jack to quit his schoolin'. What's he gone do on the farm, anyhow? He's scrawny as hell," scoffed Howard, his heart seizing in guilt.
Ellie May sneered at him. "Guess that's the whole point, Howard. What little Jack can do is better than nothing."
She might have been right, and Howard knew he was definitely in the wrong, but he couldn't just stand there and let some little girl wave her finger in his face. He bowed up angrily, "Listen here-"
"No, you listen," she swiftly cut him off. Her shoulders squaring, she raised her chin to him and spoke in low, quick, no-nonsense tones. "My father is a drunk, sorry, piece of shit and my mother is dead. Your mother, Belva, Era…they're dead, too. So that means that the people in this house are all I have left and I refuse to stand by and watch you treat them this way. Your family needs you, Howard. If you can't be here, if you can't bring yourself to do it for whatever reason, that's fine. But don't hang around here acting sorry. Get your shit and go. Because right now we can barely take care of things as they are, we don't need to have to play babysitter to a grown ass man who's having a pity party, too."
Howard said nothing but blinked real slow a few times. Ellie May recognized his dazed look and her nostrils flared in anger once again. Was he too drunk to even understand her? Would he remember this conversation come tomorrow? Ranking him with one final sneer, Ellie May shook her head, "I'm going to finish Emmy's dress and then I'm going to bed. You can do whatever you'd like but keep quiet. So help me if you're stumbling ass wakes them up…"
He watched her disappear into the family room. Slumping down into a chair, he dropped his hat on the kitchen table and rubbed his eyes. Her words swirled around his head like mule sloshing around in his mouth.
Howard was still at the kitchen table when the family rose the next morning. Ellie May all but pretended not to notice him as she got Jack and Emmy ready for school. Jack made a stink over her fussing, said he wasn't a baby. But they knew he was merely trying to act tough. He relished in the way she smoothed over his hair and straightened his shirt just like their mother used to. When their father and Forrest joined them at the table for breakfast, nothing was said about Howard's sudden return.
Forrest lingered with Howard at the table after everyone else was finished. He had work to get to but he felt a sense that Howard wanted to speak with him. A moment later Howard shifted toward him and Forrest knew he was right. "Your woman yelled at me."
Forrest's brow twitched in surprise. "She what?" He'd never heard Ellie May raise her voice; not at anyone other than himself that is, and usually that was only because he'd purposely gotten her riled up.
His big brother gave a nod, clucking his tongue. Ellie May stood at the sink, her back to them, scrubbing at a skillet. Howard eyed her small frame. She was a tiny little thing, that's for sure. Must've taken real guts for her to stand up to a man his size. "She yelled at me," he repeated with a chuckle. "Got a mouth on her, for sure…nobody's yelled at me like that since before the war. Hell, nobody's ever yell at me like that. 'Cept maybe momma. I reckon I deserved it."
Forrest hummed, eyes sliding across the kitchen to Ellie May. It was the first time that he'd really looked at her in weeks. Her sleeves were pushed back to her elbows, her hands submerged in suds and water. He could feel her exhaustion in the subtle slump of her shoulders and the forced movements.
Howard nudged him. He looked at his brother expectantly, lips pulled into a grin, "I asked if you were gone marry that girl."
Forrest's eyebrows dipped. He glanced back at Ellie May. Guilt thumped him square in the chest. He cleared his throat. "Ain't you got some work to do, Howard?"
Again, Howard let a grin spread his face. It wasn't the answer he'd been looking for but he'd take it. Just like that all the animosity and tension between them was gone. Forrest was accepting him back. The eldest Bondurant brother stood and said, "I reckon so. See ya out there."
The moment the screen door slammed shut behind Howard, Forrest was crossing the room in long, determined strides. He took the skillet from Ellie May's hands. "Let me get that."
"Forrest, I got it," she murmured, not looking him in the eye.
Fear choked him. She was angry with him. Probably hurt, too. He was foolish to have ever thought that she wouldn't realize he'd been distancing himself. "S'alright. I can do it. Why don't you take a break?"
Finally, her gaze lifted and met his own. "I'll take a break when you do."
There were dark half-moons beneath her eyes and her lips were pulled tight. She looked like she'd fall over if given one good poke. Forrest dropped the skillet, letting it slide down into the sink and disappear beneath the soapy water. He took a dish towel and caught Ellie May's hands, gently drying them and then his own. She said nothing but gave him a hard stare that made him swallow thickly. "I'd like to talk with you."
She knew exactly what he wanted to discuss. Smiling sadly up at him, she shook her head, saying softly, "It's okay, Forrest. You don't need to explain."
And truly he didn't. Ellie May knew exactly why Forrest had been distant, why hadn't been holding her hand or shooting her small smiles when no one else was watching. It was guilt. Forrest felt guilty because he was the one who had brought the sickness in. And, though he'd also had the flu, he had lived while his mother and sisters died. That's why he was throwing himself into the farm work. He needed a distraction so that he didn't feel. So that he didn't feel the pain of their loss and the overwhelming guilt that resulted.
He squeezed her hands. "I'm sorry," murmured Forrest.
Ellie May squeezed back.
A bonus to the long wait: this was super long, right? This chapter was almost a thousand words longer than the others.
There will be loads more Ellie/Forrest action in the next chapter but I couldn't gloss over everything that happen with fluff. That's just not how it happens. Nevertheless, I hope you guys liked this one. Let me know!