In the dim light of the evening, Rae Lynn saw how well Cornelia hid within herself, but she wasn’t hiding now. The same look she’d got before radiated from her without restraint.
Cornelia said, “I know it ain’t the same for you. It’s all right. Truth is, I can’t help myself, how I feel. I can’t. I thought if I tell you my own secret, like you told me about Warren, maybe I can try to accept my lot in life, such as it is.”
Rae Lynn didn’t know what to say, other than, “All right.”
“I liked someone once, back when I was sixteen. Her name was Rebecca. We started spending time together. She liked coming to my house because her daddy was so strict, and she was afraid of him. She came to the house one afternoon, and Mama was busy working in the garden. We weren’t paying attention. We got wrapped up in a moment, and Mama caught us. She told my daddy. He was friends with Otis’s daddy, and Otis had always had his eye on me. That’s how I come to marry him. I was an abomination to them, and they wanted nothing more to do with me unless I did what they wanted. So, I did. As you might’ve guessed, it changed nothing. They don’t want to see me, especially if I’ve left Otis. This is the real reason why I couldn’t go home.”
Rae Lynn grabbed Cornelia’s hand again and held on to it tight.
She said, “Nellie. I can’t lie to you. It’s true, I don’t feel the same as you, but I do care about you. As a friend. I hope you can accept that.”
Cornelia gave her a sad little smile. “Of course. It’s the best gift you can give me.”
The melancholy little smile Cornelia gave her was heartbreaking and honest. They sat for a long while, quiet and peaceful, both women pondering what the future might hold for them.
A week later, Rae Lynn followed Del to the barn, where he was cleaning and organizing the turpentine tools. He’d laid out an assortment including tin gutters, Herty cups and aprons, bark hacks, pullers, hanging boxes filled with nails and gutters that would be carried from tree to tree to tack tin, and in another corner she saw all the implements needed for dipping, from buckets, to dip barrels, and to dip irons. He was organized, methodical, and careful. It didn’t seem right to compare him to Warren, but she couldn’t help it. She rubbed at her half-missing finger. She felt confident she wouldn’t have to worry about carelessness or accidents.
She said, “You got most everything you need.”
He said, “I do. Only waiting on the work hands, and they’ll be coming next week. And a horse for you. We ought to go look at one I saw over to Rockfish. How’s the baby and mama doing this morning?”
“Sudie May said he ate twice last night. She said it’s all he wants to do. And sleep.”
Del started sharpening the bark hacks, his movements rhythmic and efficient.
He said, “Them Whitaker boys are gonna be tall like their daddy.” He pushed the hair off of his forehead, and Rae Lynn thought he’d gone from relaxed to a little nervous. She had this effect on him lately, like he’d get to thinking on something, look at her, and just as quick, turn away.
He continued talking and said, “Hard to believe we been gone from Swallow Hill eight months now.”
Rae Lynn said, “I know. It don’t seem like I was ever there, sometimes.”
Del studied his boots, then lifted his head.
“You want to go into town with me later on today?”
Rae Lynn picked up a bark hack, hefting it in her hand, remembering the work she’d done at the camp, the aching muscles, along with the gratification of being able to labor in such a way. The way he asked her sounded different, like there was meaning behind the question.
“Sure. I don’t think Sudie May needs me.”
Del said, “She might not, but I do.”
Rae Lynn wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“What did you say?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he held out a hand and said, “Come with me.”
All of a sudden nervous, she slipped her hand in his, and he gripped it tight. They left the barn, and he led her across the yard, toward the woods. She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and when she stole a glance, Cornelia was waving at her madly and making gestures in the area of her heart. Rae Lynn suppressed a smile, paid attention to Del as he started pointing here and there, talked about the work, the vision he had of the land, of a family, and of her by his side.
He turned to her, and he said, “Can you see it?”
Rae Lynn said, “Yes, I can.”
Chapter 35
Del
Bladen County, 1940
He’d made some mistakes in his life, no doubt. Too many, if he was being truthful, but marrying Rae Lynn hadn’t been one of them. He sat in one of the rockers on the porch, watching her tease Peewee. Cornelia, Amos, and Sudie May were shucking corn, listening too, and laughing now and then. Peewee had kept in touch with Del and visited at least twice a year. Del turned his attention to his children, Delwood, six, and Jeremiah, four, and baby daughter, Belinda. His thoughts went deep. He had to make them mistakes, go through all he’d been through to fully appreciate what he had and he was grateful. He’d already started teaching the boys about the longleaf, the skills of a woods rider, as well as how a cooper worked and what happened in a distillery. He wanted all his children to understand the entire way of life in turpentining, end to end. For him, it was important because in that understanding, they would appreciate it; that appreciation would make his vision, his love for the pines everlasting.
To that end, he and Amos had joined up with the American Turpentine Farmers Association (ATFA) and planned to take their boys to a few of the local meetings. They’d heard about the “Olustee process” through the ATFA, a new way of distilling pine gum with steam, and he thought it would be interesting to let them see the plant down in Hoboken, Georgia.
The women went into the house to finish cleaning the corn, and the men followed, talking about how the longleaf was becoming a tree of the past and the same would eventually happen for the work of turpentiners; their trade would disappear like the trees. All of them were aware of the one area in North Carolina that still had “round timber,” the name for “old growth” trees. They were located in Moore County, purchased about three decades before by James Boyd, father of nature-loving Helen Boyd Dull. The story goes after an impromptu delay of their train in Southern Pines, James Boyd and his daughter took a carriage up to a ridge, where, when they looked down at the surrounding area, they saw lumberjacks taking the majestic pines down. She pleaded with her father to save the remaining trees.
Peewee said, “Shoot. Ain’t gonna be long ’fore nobody even knows what a longleaf pine looks like, much less about turpentining.”
Del said, “Not if I can help it. That’s why I wanted to get something going here. We can work the trees and then let them be. Let them stand as evidence of that work.”
Peewee said, “The name is perfect. Memorable. Tar Heel Turpentine. Wonder how you come up with that.”
Rae Lynn and Del looked at each other, smiling.
Peewee said, “By the way, I got some news on old Crow right before I came. Slim Smith called me the other day, said he’d finally met his match.”
Rae Lynn stopped pulling the yellow threads off the kernels.
“Somebody beat him up?”
Cornelia snorted. “That would be too good for him.”
Peewee rubbed his head and then shook it as if he still couldn’t believe what he’d heard.
“Naw. Sounds like he got more’n he bargained for by about fifteen feet worth. Some old gator out there in the Okefenokee.”
Incredulous, Del said, “It got him?”
“Apparently he was doing the usual, chasing some poor colored feller through the swamp. They heard it more’n saw it. Said he went to screaming, carrying on, and he stopped sudden-like. By the time they got there, all that was left was that hat a his floating in the water, crow feather still in it. Nothing else.”