Ghost on Black Mountain by Ann Hite Page A

go a long way in the eyes of the mountain. You know, clearing your name from your husband’s actions.”
    Jack pulled me away. Lydia watched me. She was one of those society women who thought they were better than others. She must have been going crazy on Black Mountain. She was a rose in the middle of a bunch of wildflowers. Too bad I loved wildflowers.
February 8, 1939
Okay God, I’m going to this ladies’ meeting. I’m going to prove once and for all I’m not like the husband I married. But when I look in these people’s faces, I see I’m guilty. I won’t never be nothing but bad to them. A good girl would never have married Hobbs Pritchard, and if she did make that terrible mistake, shewould have owned up to it and gone home. But it ain’t that simple. I’ve got myself in a mess here and don’t know what way to turn. If I leave, then I’m letting You down. Wives don’t leave their husbands even if they are mean. If I stay, all of Hobbs’s wrongs will be mine till death parts us.
    The weather still held on Wednesday. I took out walking through the woods to the pastor’s house. Everyone, even someone new like me, could find the Dobbins place. It was by far one of the biggest and fanciest houses I’d seen. It even had a little tower like a castle. I was praying the weather would hold so I could start on my garden in the afternoon. I would need the exercise to get this stupid meeting off my mind.
    Merlin Hocket stood in the curve of the path. Up close he looked downright pitiful. “What do you want from me?” I managed to ask.
    The knees of his fancy britches were dirty and one side of his spectacles was cracked like he’d been fighting. He held his cap in his hand and stared straight at me. He looked as real as any person I would see that day. Ghosts were supposed to look scary.
    “This mountain plays tricks on people, turns them around, sends them in all the wrong directions. Be careful. You may think it’s on your side but it will betray you. Follow your heart. Don’t be afraid.” His voice sounded hoarse.
    The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “You don’t look like no ghost. Did Hobbs hurt you? Is that why you stay on his land?”
    A mean look passed over his face and he walked off into the woods.
    “Did Hobbs kill you like they say?” I called after him into the emptiness.
    I was still sorting things out when I reached the pastor’s house. Shelly answered the door. She looked at me like she might jump out of her skin. “Are you here for the ladies’ meeting?”
    “Yes.”
    She shook her head and motioned for me to follow her. She wore a starched white apron over a black dress. Was this Shelly’s life?
    The women were gathered in a fancy room. The windows were covered in lace and the sofa and chairs were made of blue velvet. Lydia motioned Shelly to come pour tea from a silver teapot into tiny china cups. The other women, dressed in worn skirts and blouses, looked as uncomfortable and out of place as I felt. I had made a mistake.
    Lydia smiled at me. “Oh, look here. Mrs. Pritchard has joined us.” Her smile was real, and I understood me and her were the ones who didn’t fit in.
    I fiddled with a loose thread on my brown A-line skirt. The button was about to fall off. The room remained quiet. I smiled at the women. Mrs. Connor wasn’t among the group, thank goodness. Maybe she had become a backslider like me. The women watched. Their faces told me what a fool I was for marrying Hobbs.
    “How’s your husband, Mrs. Pritchard?” This came from a pretty, young woman; meanness laced her words.
    “He’s fine.” I spoke as if I had seen him that morning.
    One of the women huffed.
    “I just bet he is, sweetie. He’s always managed for himself. I know.” The pretty woman gave me a knowing look that turned my stomach.
    An older woman patted my arm. “Hobbs has always been Hobbs. It’s his nature. Don’t pay her no mind. You can’t help who he is.”
    I could have hugged