Big Cherry Holler Read Online Free PDF Page A

and come home to you. I don’t tell you the half of it.”
    “Whose fault is that? You have to talk to me. I’m tired of pulling information out of you. I’ve worried every day you’ve left this house. Especially lately.” As the bigger companies pulled out, safety became less important. I would panic every time I heard a wildcat company was coming in to reopen old mines for quick access to more coal. I knew they weren’t following codes; it was common knowledgearound here. I look at my husband, who is studying the label on his beer. I hear myself raising my voice; he looks at me. At least I have his attention now. “I worried myself sick. Of course, you have no idea what I’m thinking because you never ask me.”
    “Maybe that’s because I know what you’re thinking.” He takes a swig.
    “Look, I’ve had a very—” I begin to say “tough day” but stop myself. I look at my husband, and he is wounded down to his bones.
    “Ave, you don’t come from coal.” Jack says this matter-of-factly. He’s right. I’m not a descendant of these folks, even though I was born and raised here. I am a ferriner. I do have a different point of view. I don’t accept the power of a big company over a community. I don’t believe in waiting until the last drop of coal is pulled from these mountains before having a plan. I don’t rely on anybody for anything. If I can’t work for it myself, I won’t have it.
    “That’s not fair.” This is all I can come up with?
    “When my grandpap took me down in the mine the very first time, he wanted me to hate it. But I got into the transport car with him, and from the first second daylight was gone and we were inside the mountain, I loved it. I loved the smell of the earth, the white dust on the walls where the coal was taken from, and the men all together in there, figuring out how to beat the mountain. How to outfox it. How to get that coal out without anybody getting hurt.”
    “Jack,” I start to say, but he’s turned away to pull the casserole out of the oven and doesn’t hear me.
    “When they talk to us like we’re idiots, it takes a piece out of me. I saw simple men in there solve complex problems and prevail. And that’s what I wanted my work life to be.” Jack sits down. I sit down too and reach for him across the table.
    “You can still have that. You can go back to school and become an engineer. Whatever you want.”
    Jack throws back his head and laughs.
    “Do you have any idea who you’re married to?” He tilts the kitchen chair, balancing on the back legs, and looks at me, challenging me to answer. Why do men do this? Why do they pretend to be strong when they’re hurting? And why am I angry when he’s hurting? I resist the urge to push him off the chair.
    “I guess I don’t.”
    “See there? We agree on something.” Jack picks up his fork and eats.
    I give up. I leave the kitchen and stop when I get halfway up the stairs. I didn’t want to walk out of the room, I wanted to stay and work things through. Why did I leave? Why do I always leave the moment things get really hard? I sit down in the dark to think.
    The storm is back, and the rain hits the house in gusts as thunder breaks over us in loud crashes. Lightning pierces the darkness, sending jagged shadows across me like sharp fingers. I pull myself up by a dowel of the old banister and take one step down to go back into the kitchen. I am determined to fix this tonight. I am going to tell him that I trust him to take care of us. But something stops me. I go up the stairs, choosing to go to my daughter instead of comforting my husband. I have the feeling it’s a decision I will regret, but I do it anyway.
    “Hey. You’re supposed to be asleep,” I tell Etta. She’s looking out the window and watching the storm.
    “The thunder woke me up.” Etta crawls into her bed.
    “It sure is loud,” I tell my daughter as I tuck the blanket in; I hope it was loud enough to drown out the fight between