False Southern Gentility
Resentment
Christine shook her head, furious with the insolence that surrounded her, "'Let me leave you', she says, 'you are not yourself', she says. I am so tired of being excused, and of having to put up with all of them. All of you!" she screamed aloud, "The children always crying, Mary and Catherine scurrying like mice on silken toes. Ha! I want people with minds, all I have left is a father who won't say a word, two widows who can't work, and their little brats!" she finished with a huff.
"Better." she thought to herself. "Much better."
"No use wasting energy," she thought to herself, "you need all of your strength to work and you can't go throwing it away on rage." Christine closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "It's not like they've done it on purpose," she said aloud, "Mary is sick...always has been. Even when we were children she was a sickly little creature. And Catherine," she groaned aloud,"Catherine is too lighthearted for this world...for this new way of life. She is just like mother, she's just to kind for all of this..." she stopped, seeing her father dragging his feet as he stepped through the door. "Why couldn't I have been to kind for this?" Christine quietly asked herself aloud.
She sighed to herself, and touched his shoulder. "Pa, are you alright? I was terribly worried about you." she made no sudden movements lest she frighten him. Who knew he would eventually become one of his prized ponies before being saddle broken? "Take my share of yams at the table tonight, I'm really not very hungry, you have your fill. It's been a bit warm out, and I need your help as much as ever, Pa." she said as she smiled at him, his green eyes fogging over, only showing faint recognition of what she was saying.
It was more than the usual response, and that pleased her.
He nodded and looked back at the door. "We are having quail tonight...Mrs. Threlkeld should be inside--any moment now..." he finished as he stepped around the corner into her mother's study and closed the door with a long and quiet creak.
Catherine came around the corner quietly, clutching her skirts about her to keep them from swishing loudly in the silence. Christine stepped in-front of her quickly, hands on hips and eyebrow raised. "Going somewhere Catherine? We're having dinner. Bring those two little--," Christine stopped for a moment, reconsidering her anger as she observed a sliver of fear in Mary's eyes. "Bring the children down, and then help Catherine. I don't have the energy now." when Mary failed to move, Christine waved her hands wildly. "Use your legs, Mary, and go!" Christine ordered as she cast her arm towards the staircase, "Hurry up then!" she shouted as she jerked herself around and stepped into the kitchen with a huff.
She stopped suddenly as the smell of the ever-scarce food invaded her senses, "Let Pa have my yams, he's tired and hungry. Besides, I--I found one of those onions earlier...I ate it. Selfish, I know--but I couldn't help myself--besides--it was only the spoiled top of one. Not much to be selfish over...something had gotten to it. Also, you make sure to tell Marcus not to drop food when he's bringing it in...things are too scarce to be careless." she said, more to herself than to Mammy.
"Liar," her mind said in quiet whispers, "you haven't eaten in days, you know that. But Pa needs it worse than you do...you did the right thing...you did the right thing..."
Mammy squinted her dark black eyes at Christine. "You is a lying fool, that's what you is. Let me smell of yo' breath." she said as she took hold of Christine's chin and tried to pull her towards her nose as Christine shooed her hand away. "See, I done tole you when you was a lil' gal, you kin smell tha' onions on yo' breath, and yo' breath don' smell lak no onions." she stated matter-of-factly as she lifted small bits of yam into the bowls next to the pot.
Christine shook her head, "I ate the blasted onion, and then a piece of mint that I found in the field. That's why my breath doesn't smell like onions! Are you happy now?" she exclaimed as she lifted two bowls into her hands, walking towards the dining-room.
Ha, she thought to herself as she stepped into the hallway, who would have ever guessed that Christine Threlkeld, belle of Baldwin County, would ever be caught carrying bowls of yams into the family dining-room like a slave, oh if Elissa Wallace should see her now. But that was the humor in it, Elissa Wallace had married one of the county crackers and was shacked up in a shanty twenty miles away. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
"Aw, Auntie Christine, yawms adain!" little Patricia cried as she poked the small yam and sniffed it, her little up-turned nose crinkling at the smell. Despite the persistent complaints that followed each night from the children, each of them cleaned their bowls faithfully, often times complaining of a still empty stomach.
"Swister, sway thwank you." Peter whispered as he poked Patricia's shoulder with his nimble little finger.
Peter was such a good child, never complaining, always quiet, loving to climb into Christine's lap whenever he saw fit. And he looked the devil like Gabriel.
Christine saw Peter as the one good thing Mary had done. She had married Gabriel, supposedly because she loved him. Christine did not believe that, nor did she believe that Gabriel loved her. Gabriel needed compassion, fire. And as Christine saw it, Mary was neither of those.
Patricia looked at Christine and her deep blue eyes sparkled, "No thank you." she said very clearly she spooned the last bit of the yams into her mouth. She looked down at her bowl, running her spoon in circles around the bottom.
Christine sat down beside her father as Mary came into the room, her face a ghostly pale color, her green eyes dulled by sickness, "Come now sister, you take my share, I always know when you aren't eating. Besides, I lay in bed all day long, and you're the one out hoeing and planting. I don't really need it." she said as she sat down, took her small son into her lap, and placed him to her shoulder.
Christine rolled her eyes, "Eat. Eat, or you'll never be of any use to me." she said as she tossed the spoon from beside her to her startled sister.
A deep resentment had dug it's self into her side, an angry thorn that would not dislodge for many years to come.
"Better." she thought to herself. "Much better."
"No use wasting energy," she thought to herself, "you need all of your strength to work and you can't go throwing it away on rage." Christine closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "It's not like they've done it on purpose," she said aloud, "Mary is sick...always has been. Even when we were children she was a sickly little creature. And Catherine," she groaned aloud,"Catherine is too lighthearted for this world...for this new way of life. She is just like mother, she's just to kind for all of this..." she stopped, seeing her father dragging his feet as he stepped through the door. "Why couldn't I have been to kind for this?" Christine quietly asked herself aloud.
She sighed to herself, and touched his shoulder. "Pa, are you alright? I was terribly worried about you." she made no sudden movements lest she frighten him. Who knew he would eventually become one of his prized ponies before being saddle broken? "Take my share of yams at the table tonight, I'm really not very hungry, you have your fill. It's been a bit warm out, and I need your help as much as ever, Pa." she said as she smiled at him, his green eyes fogging over, only showing faint recognition of what she was saying.
It was more than the usual response, and that pleased her.
He nodded and looked back at the door. "We are having quail tonight...Mrs. Threlkeld should be inside--any moment now..." he finished as he stepped around the corner into her mother's study and closed the door with a long and quiet creak.
Catherine came around the corner quietly, clutching her skirts about her to keep them from swishing loudly in the silence. Christine stepped in-front of her quickly, hands on hips and eyebrow raised. "Going somewhere Catherine? We're having dinner. Bring those two little--," Christine stopped for a moment, reconsidering her anger as she observed a sliver of fear in Mary's eyes. "Bring the children down, and then help Catherine. I don't have the energy now." when Mary failed to move, Christine waved her hands wildly. "Use your legs, Mary, and go!" Christine ordered as she cast her arm towards the staircase, "Hurry up then!" she shouted as she jerked herself around and stepped into the kitchen with a huff.
She stopped suddenly as the smell of the ever-scarce food invaded her senses, "Let Pa have my yams, he's tired and hungry. Besides, I--I found one of those onions earlier...I ate it. Selfish, I know--but I couldn't help myself--besides--it was only the spoiled top of one. Not much to be selfish over...something had gotten to it. Also, you make sure to tell Marcus not to drop food when he's bringing it in...things are too scarce to be careless." she said, more to herself than to Mammy.
"Liar," her mind said in quiet whispers, "you haven't eaten in days, you know that. But Pa needs it worse than you do...you did the right thing...you did the right thing..."
Mammy squinted her dark black eyes at Christine. "You is a lying fool, that's what you is. Let me smell of yo' breath." she said as she took hold of Christine's chin and tried to pull her towards her nose as Christine shooed her hand away. "See, I done tole you when you was a lil' gal, you kin smell tha' onions on yo' breath, and yo' breath don' smell lak no onions." she stated matter-of-factly as she lifted small bits of yam into the bowls next to the pot.
Christine shook her head, "I ate the blasted onion, and then a piece of mint that I found in the field. That's why my breath doesn't smell like onions! Are you happy now?" she exclaimed as she lifted two bowls into her hands, walking towards the dining-room.
Ha, she thought to herself as she stepped into the hallway, who would have ever guessed that Christine Threlkeld, belle of Baldwin County, would ever be caught carrying bowls of yams into the family dining-room like a slave, oh if Elissa Wallace should see her now. But that was the humor in it, Elissa Wallace had married one of the county crackers and was shacked up in a shanty twenty miles away. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
"Aw, Auntie Christine, yawms adain!" little Patricia cried as she poked the small yam and sniffed it, her little up-turned nose crinkling at the smell. Despite the persistent complaints that followed each night from the children, each of them cleaned their bowls faithfully, often times complaining of a still empty stomach.
"Swister, sway thwank you." Peter whispered as he poked Patricia's shoulder with his nimble little finger.
Peter was such a good child, never complaining, always quiet, loving to climb into Christine's lap whenever he saw fit. And he looked the devil like Gabriel.
Christine saw Peter as the one good thing Mary had done. She had married Gabriel, supposedly because she loved him. Christine did not believe that, nor did she believe that Gabriel loved her. Gabriel needed compassion, fire. And as Christine saw it, Mary was neither of those.
Patricia looked at Christine and her deep blue eyes sparkled, "No thank you." she said very clearly she spooned the last bit of the yams into her mouth. She looked down at her bowl, running her spoon in circles around the bottom.
Christine sat down beside her father as Mary came into the room, her face a ghostly pale color, her green eyes dulled by sickness, "Come now sister, you take my share, I always know when you aren't eating. Besides, I lay in bed all day long, and you're the one out hoeing and planting. I don't really need it." she said as she sat down, took her small son into her lap, and placed him to her shoulder.
Christine rolled her eyes, "Eat. Eat, or you'll never be of any use to me." she said as she tossed the spoon from beside her to her startled sister.
A deep resentment had dug it's self into her side, an angry thorn that would not dislodge for many years to come.