American Ghosts & Old World Wonders (5 page)

           
"I won't do anything unless you want," her husband said in the dark after the candle went out.

           
The straw with which the mattress was stuffed rustled beneath her as she turned away from him.

                               
INTERIOR. FARMHOUSE KITCHEN. NIGHT

                               
Johnny comes in from outside, looks at father asleep in rocking-chair.

                               
Picks up some discarded garment of Annie-Belle's from the back of a chair, buries face in it.

                               
Shoulders shake.

                               
Opens cupboard, takes out bottle.

                               
Uncorks with teeth. Drinks.

                               
Bottle in hand, goes out on porch.

                               
EXTERIOR. PRAIRIE. NIGHT

                               
(Johnny's point of view) Moon rising over prairie: the vast, the elegiac plain. "Landscape Theme" rises.

                               
INTERIOR. MINISTER'S SON'S ROOM. NIGHT

                               
Annie-Belle and Minister's son in bed.

                               
Moonlight through the curtains.

                               
Both lie there, open-eyed. Rustle of mattress.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE: You awake?

                               
Minister's son moves away from her.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE: Reckon I never properly knowed no young man before. . .

                               
MINISTER'S SON: What about --

                               
ANNIE-BELLE (shrugging the question off): Oh. . .

                               
Minister's son moves towards her.

           
For she did not consider her brother in this new category of "young men"; he was herself. So she and her husband slept in one another's arms, that night, although they did nothing else for she was scared it might harm the baby and he was so full of pain and glory it was scarcely to be borne, it was already enough, or too much, holding her tight, in his terrible innocence.

           
It was not so much that she was pliant. Only, fearing the worst, it turned out that the worst had already happened; her sin found her out, or, rather, she found out she had sinned only when he offered his forgiveness, and, from her repentance, a new Annie-Belle sprang up, for whom the past did not exist.

           
She would have said to him: "It did not signify, my darling; I only did it with my brother, we were alone together under the vast sky that made us
scared and so we clung together and what happened, happened." But she knew she must not say that, that the most natural love of all was just precisely the one she must not acknowledge. To lie down on the prairie with a passing stranger was one thing. To lie down with her father's son was another. So she kept silent. And when she looked at her husband, she saw, not herself, but someone who might, in time, grow even more precious.

           
The next night, in spite of the baby, they did it, and his mother wanted to murder her and refused to get the breakfast for this prostitute, but Annie-Belle served them, put on an apron, cut the ham and cooked it, then scrubbed the floor with such humility, such evidence of gratitude that the older woman kept her mouth shut, her narrow lips tight as a trap, but she kept them shut for if there was one thing she feared, it was the atrocious gentleness of her menfolk. And. So.

           
Johnny came to the town, hungering after her; the gates of Paradise slammed shut in his face. He haunted the backyard of the Minister's house, hid in the sweetbrier, watched the candle in their room go out and still he could not imagine it, that she might do it with another man. But. She did.

           
At the store, all gossip ceased when she came in; all eyes turned towards Her. The old men chewing tobacco spat brown streams when she walked past. The women's faces veiled with disapproval. She was so young, so unaccustomed to people. They talked, her husband and she; they would go, just go, out west, still further, west as far as the place where the ocean Starts again, perhaps. With his schooling, he could get some clerking job or other. She would bear her child and he would love it. Then she would bear
their
children.

           
"Yes," she said. "We shall do that," she said.

                               
EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY

                               
Annie-Belle drives up in trap.

                               
Johnny comes out on porch, in shirt-sleeves, bottle in hand.

                               
Takes her reins. But she doesn't get down from the trap.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: Where's Daddy?

                               
Johnny gestures towards the prairie.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
(not looking at Johnny): Got something to tell him.

                               
(Close up) Johnny.

                               
JOHNNY:
Ain't you got nothing to tell me?

                               
(Close up) Annie-Belle.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: Reckon I ain't.

                               
(Close up) Johnny.

                               
JOHNNY
: Get down and visit a while, at least.

                               
(Close up) Annie-Belle.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: Can't hardly spare the time.

                               
(Close up) Johnny and Annie-Belle.

                               
JOHNNY
: Got to scurry back, get your husband's dinner, is that it?

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: Johnny. . . why haven't you come to church since I got married, Johnny?

                               
Johnny shrugs, turns away.

                               
EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY

                               
Annie-Belle gets down from trap, follows Johnny towards farmhouse.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: Oh, Johnny, you
knowed
we did wrong.

                               
Johnny walks towards farmhouse.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: I count myself fortunate to have found forgiveness.

                               
JOHNNY
: What are you going to tell Daddy?

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: I'm going out west.

Giovanni:
What, chang'd so soon! hath your new sprightly lord

           
Found out a trick in night-games more than we

           
Could know in our simplicity? -- Ha! is't so?

           
Or does the fit come on you, to prove treacherous

           
To your past vows and oaths?

Annabella:
Why should you jest

           
At my calamity.

                               
EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY

                               
JOHNNY: Out west?

                               
Annie-Belle nods,

                               
JOHNNY: By yourself?

                               
Annie-Belle shakes her head.

                               
JOHNNY: With him?

                               
Annie-Belle nods.

                               
Johnny puts hand on porch rail, bends forward, hiding his face.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: It is for the best.

                               
She puts her hand on his shoulder. He reaches out for her. She extricates herself.

                               
His hand, holding bottle; contents of bottle run out on grass.

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: It was wrong, what we did.

                               
JOHNNY
: What about . . .

                               
ANNIE-BELLE
: It shouldn't ever have been made, poor little thing. You won't never see it. Forget everything. You'll find yourself a woman, you'll marry.

                               
Johnny reaches out and clasps her roughly to him.

           
"No," she said; "never. No." And fought and bit and scratched: "Never! It's wrong. It's a sin." But, worse than that, she said: "I don't want to," and she meant it, she knew she must not or else her new life, that lay before her, now, with the radiant simplicity of a child's drawing of a house, would be utterly destroyed. So she got free of him and ran to the buggy and drove back lickety-split to town, beating the pony round the head with the whip.

           
Accompanied by a black trunk like a coffin, the Minister and his wife drove with them to a railhead such as you have often seen on the movies -- the same telegraph office, the same water-tower, the same old man with the green eyeshade selling tickets. Autumn was coming on. Annie-Belle could no longer conceal her pregnancy, out it stuck; her mother-in-law could not speak to her directly but addressed remarks through the Minister, who compensated for his wife's contempt by showing Annie-Belle all the honour due to a repentant sinner.

           
She wore a yellow ribbon. Her hair was long and yellow. The repentant harlot has the surprised look of a pregnant virgin.

           
She is pale. The pregnancy does not go well. She vomits all morning. She bleeds a little. Her husband holds her hand tight. Her father came last night to say goodbye to her; he looks older. He does not take care of himself. That Johnny did not come set the tongues wagging; the gossip is, he refuses to set eyes on his sister in her disgrace. That seems the only thing to explain his attitude. All know he takes no interest in girls himself.

           
"Bless you, children," says the Minister. With that troubling air of incipient sainthood, the young husband settles his wife down on the trunk and tucks a rug round her legs for a snappy wind drives dust down the railroad track and the hills are October mauve and brown. In the distance, the train whistle blows, that haunting sound, blowing across endless distance, the sound that underlines the distance.

                               
EXTERIOR. FARMHOUSE. DAY