The Hum and the Shiver

34

The irony made the national news for a day.

Dwayne Gitterman, wanted for the murder of war hero Bronwyn Hyatt’s brother, committed suicide by jumping from a bluff that overlooked a Cloud County highway. In a gigantic fluke, he landed on Tennessee State Trooper Robert Pafford, who’d been urinating beside his car. Both were killed instantly. The long combined history of the two—Pafford first arrested Dwayne when he was ten—added to the weirdness. It was too much to be coincidence, some said, yet what else could it be? It was a dark and stormy night; Gitterman could not possibly have seen Pafford before he jumped.

In a week, the national news forgot about it. In a month, no one in Cloud County even spoke the names Dwayne Gitterman or Bob Pafford. None of the old songs were sung for him.

But a new one was written.

There were old songs for Kell Hyatt, though. Many of them. His body was released for burial, and Bliss brought it back home for a traditional “sitting.” The practice was technically illegal, since the body had not been embalmed, but folks tended to let the Tufa care for their own, even in death.

Chloe, Bliss, Bronwyn, and several other ladies washed Kell thoroughly and dressed him in his best suit. Chloe had broken down only once, when she saw the stitched wound where he’d been stabbed. But it passed, and she and the others worked in what passed for musical silence, humming or singing but seldom speaking.

The men gathered as well, on the porch and in the yard. Deacon led them through the woods to the Hyatt family cemetery. It was on a hillside, with little horizontal outbuildings over some of the graves. They took turns digging, using pickaxes on the rocky soil and hauling the stones aside. They sang as well, bawdy songs of men and women, tales of prowess and exaggeration. By midday, the grave was ready.

Major Dan Maitland called Bronwyn as she was about to put on her black mourning dress. “I’m very sorry to hear about your brother, Private Hyatt.”

“Miss Hyatt. Unless you’re planning to stop-loss me.”

“I don’t think that would be good for either the image of the military, or for you as a person. Do you?”

“That may be the first thing we’ve entirely agreed on, Major.”

Her new assertiveness made him pause and regroup. When he spoke again, it was with the voice of an equal, not a superior. “Well, whatever the case, please express my sympathy to your family. They’ve certainly been through the wringer this year. How are you holding up?”

She looked at her lingerie-clad reflection in the full-length mirror. Her legs were more symmetrical and the scars were slowly fading. Only the elastic bandage around her ribs spoke of any recent trauma. “Wall to wall and treetop tall. Looking for love in all the wrong places.”

“Any plans for the future?”

“Lots.”

When she did not elaborate, he said, “Well, I won’t keep you, Bronwyn. I know this is a tough time for you. Please know you’re in my thoughts and prayers.”

“Thanks, Dan. For everything.” And she meant it. When she hung up, she added his number to the blocked list on her cell phone.

That afternoon, Craig parked at the end of a long line of vehicles and walked half a mile up the road to get to the Hyatts’ house. The afternoon sun was murderous through his suit coat. He was stopped at the gate by Aiden and two other preteen boys, all dressed uncomfortably in jackets and clip-on ties. They gave him a serious, challenging group stare.

“I’d like permission to go up to the house,” he said, playing along, “and offer my respects.”

“You haven’t passed the test,” Aiden said grimly.

“What’s the test?”

Aiden and the others huddled together, whispering. Craig tried to keep a straight face. Up the hill, he saw a woman dressed in black step out onto the porch and look toward them. Was it Bronwyn? The distance and the sun made it impossible to tell.

Finally Aiden emerged from the confab and again faced him. “You have to answer a riddle.”

“Okay.”

“How many cats does it take to change a lightbulb?”

“None. Cats can see in the dark.”

Aiden’s face fell. He sighed and, without looking at Craig, said, “You can go up.”

Craig resisted the urge to tousle the boy’s hair as he climbed the hill toward the house. The woman on the porch was Bronwyn, and she watched him until he reached the bottom of the porch steps.

“Hot enough for you?” she asked.

“It’ll do ’til hotter comes along,” he said. “How are the ribs?”

“Sore. But they’ll mend pretty quick.”

“For you, that’s saying something.”

She smiled wryly. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Really?”

She looked down, shook her head, and grinned. “No, not really. Come on inside, I’ll get you some tea.”

Indoors all the women stepped aside for Bronwyn as if she was some sort of royalty. In fact, only Chloe met her daughter’s gaze; the rest looked respectfully away. Bronwyn did not acknowledge this, but there was a different bearing to her now, something regal that made the deference appropriate.

She poured Craig some tea and then nodded for him to follow. They went past the coffin where Kell lay in state, and down the short hall to her bedroom. When they stepped inside, she quietly closed the door behind them.

He faced her as she settled her shoulders back against the door. It might’ve been seductive except for the sadness in her eyes. “I’m glad you came, Reverend.”

“Craig.”

“Craig. I suppose we should talk about what happened outside the hospital.”

“If you’d like.”

She rattled the ice in her tea. “I’ve been pulled in several different directions since I got home. No, that’s not true, it’s been all my life. Some people wanted me to be one thing, some another. I’ve never taken well to that kind of thing.”

He merely nodded.

“But I think I know what I want now. It’s not what everyone else wants for me. Hell, it’s not what anyone else wants for me. But it’s what I’m meant to do.”

“That’s exceptionally vague, you know. Is that why everyone bowed and curtseyed to you in there?”

She smiled. “Yes. Some things have changed, besides Kell’s death. I guess the best comparison I can make right now is that I’m as certain of my calling as you are, except I can have sex if I want to.”

“That’s a big difference.”

“True,” she agreed, then stepped closer and looked up at him.

He leaned down and kissed her, tenderly. She responded in kind. When they broke the kiss, he said, “I can’t cross some lines, you know.”

“I know,” she said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “And honestly, I may try to get you as close to them as possible. I’m like that. But I’ll do my best to respect them.”

“So are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” he said with a grin.

She laughed. “I’m asking you to dinner in Johnson City Monday night. You drive, I’ll pay. But only after…”

“What?”

“Did you go and look at that painting in Cricket?”

“No, not yet.”

“Do that. Then decide.”

“Look at the painting, then decide if I want to go out with you?”

“Yes.”

“What’s so important about the painting?”

She smiled knowingly, teasingly. “If I told you that, it’d be cheating. And that’d be a terrible start to our relationship.”

He stepped closer and kissed her again. This time she leaned up, her lips parted, and it became the kind of kiss that was as much promise as gratification. When they separated, she said, “That was the hum. If you’re good, later I’ll show you the shiver.”

They rejoined the mourners. Craig thought about offering to speak, but figured that would be both rude and unwelcome. He realized he was the only male in the room just before the other men arrived, dirty and tired from grave-digging. With no comment they closed the casket and carried it outside. The women followed, their voices mixing in a song Craig had never before heard.

Bronwyn walked directly behind the casket, playing her mandolin. Chloe clutched her autoharp, and Deacon played long, mournful notes on his fiddle. A few others had instruments, but most simply sang. Craig knew none of the songs, and they seemed to vanish from his memory as soon as he heard them.

After the service, Brownyn and the other women went off together into the woods. Craig started to go with the men, but Aiden suddenly took his hand, the same grim look on his face.

“I’m supposed to walk you back to your car.”

“You are.”

He nodded. “Bronwyn said to tell you this part was private. She said you’d understand.”

“Okay,” he said. He looked back toward the woods, but everyone had vanished into its shadows.

As he drove away, he kept thinking he saw movement along the tops of the trees, as if things flew up from the forest and into the evening’s purple sky. He finally put it down to a trick of the light.