Please wait. Contacting image service... loading
Hide article pages Show article pages
  1. Page 85
    Page 85 thumbnail
  2. Page 86
    Page 86 thumbnail
  3. Page 87
    Page 87 thumbnail
  4. Page 92
    Page 92 thumbnail
  5. Page 94
    Page 94 thumbnail

Article text

On this Page 85
none Help
Many years had passed
since the day she had
planned to marry George
THE JILTING
OF GRANNY
WEATHERALL
By KATHERINE ANNE PORTER
SHE flicked her wrist neatly out of Doctor Harry's
pudgy, careful fingers and pulled the sheet up to her
chin. The brat ought to be in knee breeches. Doctoring
around the country with spectacles on his nose! "Get
along now, take your schoolbooks and go. There's noth
mg wrong with me."
Doctor Harry spread a warm paw like a cushion
on her forehead where the forked green vein danced
and made her eyelids twitch. "Now, now, be a good
girl, and we'll have you up in no time."
"That's no way to speak to a woman nearly eighty
years old, just because she's down. I'd have you respect
your elders, young man."
Well, Missy, excuse me." Doctor Harry patted her
cheek. "But Tve got to warn you, haven't I? You're a
marvel, but you must be careful or you're going to
o* good and sorry."
Don't tell me what I'm going to be. I'm on my feet
now, morally speaking. It's Cornelia. I had to go to bed
10 get rid of her."
Her bones felt loose, and floated around in her skin,
and Doctor Harry floated like a balloon around the
Joot of the bed. He floated and pulled down his waist-
coat and swung his glasses on a cord. "Well, stay where
you are, n certainly can't hurt you."
"Get along and doctor your sick," said Granny
Weatherall. "Leave a well woman alone. I'll call for
you when I want you. . . . Where were you forty years
ago when I pulled through milk leg and double
pneumonia? You weren't even born. Don't let Cornelia
lead you on," she shouted, because Doctor Harry
appeared to float up to the ceiling and out. "I pay my
own bills, and I don't throw my money away on non-
sense!"
She meant to wave goodbye, but it was too much
trouble. Her eyes closed of themselves, it was like a dark
curtain drawn around the bed. The pillow rose and
floated under her, pleasant as a hammock in a light
wind. She listened to the leaves rustling outside the
window. No, somebody was swishing newspapers: no,
Cornelia and Doctor Harry were whispering together.
She leaped, broad awake, thinking they whispered in her
ear.
"She was never like this, never like this!" "Well, what
can we expect?" "Yes, eighty years old . . ."
Well, and what if she was? She still had ears. It was
like Cornelia to whisper around doors. She always kept
things secret in such a public way. She was always being
tactful and kind. Cornelia was dutiful; that was the
trouble with her. Dutiful and good: "So good and duti-
ful," said Granny, "that I'd like to spank her." She
saw herself spanking Cornelia and making a fine job of
it.
"What'd you say, Mother?"
Granny felt her face tying up in hard knots.
"Can't a body think, I'd like to know?"
"I thought you might want something."
"I do. I want a lot of things. First off, go away and
don't whisper."
She lay and drowsed, hoping in her sleep that the
children would keep out and let her rest a minute. It
had been a long day. Not that she was tired. It was
always pleasant to snatch a minute now and then.
There was always so much to be done, let me see:
tomorrow.
Tomorrow was far away and there was nothing to
trouble about. Things were finished somehow when the
time came; thank God there was always a little margin
over for peace: then a person could spread out the
plan of life and tuck in the edges orderly. It was good
to have everything clean and folded away, with the
hairbrushes and tonic bottles sitting straight on
To page 86

THE JILTING OF GRANNY WEATHERALL

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 85

the white embroidered linen: the
day started without fuss and the
pantry shelves laid out with rows
of jelly glasses and brown jugs
and white stone-china jars with
blue whirlygigs and words painted
on them: coffee, tea, sugar, ginger,
cinnamon, allspice: and the bronze
clock with the lion on top nicely

dusted off.

The dust that lion could collect
in twenty-four hours! The box in
the attic with all those letters tied
up, well, she'd have to go through
that tomorrow. All those letters
- George's letters and John's
letters and her letters to them both
--lying around for the children to

find afterwards made her uneasy.
Yes, that would be tomorrow's
business. No use to let them know
how silly she had been once.

While she was rummaging
around she found death in her
mind and it felt clammy and un-
familiar. She had spent so much
time preparing for death there was
no need for bringing it' up again.
Let it take care of itself now.
When she was sixty she had felt
very old, finished, and went around
making farewell trips to see her
children and grandchildren, with
a secret in her mind: This is the
very last of your mother, children!
Then she made her will and came
down with a long fever.

That was all just a n«t;

a lot of other 4in¿ tft J

for all got over the idea°rf J'1"1
for a long time. Now she «íu?
be worried. She hopedI Z ^
better , sense now. Her f athe v
lived to see one hundred and
years old and had drunk a n

of strong, hot toddy on hu f1
birthday. He had told the renn«

that it was his daily habit, andi,"
owed his long life to that, u
had made auite a scandal and *

very pleased about it. She beli J)
she'd just plague Cornelia a little

. "Cornelia! Cornelia!" No foot
steps, but a sudden hand on h

cheek. "Bless you, where have ye!

been?"

"Here, Mother."

"Well, Cornelia, I want a nostin

of hot toddy."

"Are you cold, darling?"

"I'm chilly, Cornelia. Lying in
bed stops the circulation. I mu!t
have told you a thousand tim«"

Well, she could just hear Cor-
nelia telling her husband thal
Mother was getting a little childish
and they'd have to humor her
The thing that most annoyed her
was that Cornelia thought she was
deaf, dumb, and blind. Little hasty
glances and tiny gestures tossed
around her and over her head say-
ing, "Don't cross her, let her have
her way, she's eighty years old,

and she sitting there as if she
lived in a thin glass cage.

SOMETIMES Granny

almost made up' her mind to pack
up and move back to her own
house, where nobody could remind
her every minute that she was old,
Wait, wait, Cornelia, .till your ow
children whisper behind your back!

In her day she had kept a better
house and had got more work
done. She wasn't too old yet for
Lydia to be driving eighty miles lor
advice when one of the children
jumped the track, and Jimmy ii
dropped in and talked things over:
"Now, Mammy, you've a good
business head, I want to knw
what you think of this . . ." Old!
Cornelia couldn't change the fur-
niture around without asking.
Little things, little things!

They had been so sweet wheo
they were little. Granny wished
the old days were back again vita
the children young and everything
to be done over. It had been a
hard pull, but not too much lor
her. When she thought of ¡J tit
food she had cooked, and all "J
clothes she had cut and sewed, and
all the gardens she had made
well, the children, showed ft l««
they were, made out of her, m

To page 81

THE JILTING OF GRANNY WEATHERALL

.-?-' " CONTINUED FROM PAGE 86

they couldn't get away frc
,1m, Sometimes she wanti
to see John again and poi
to them »nd say, Well

didn't do so badly, did I:
But that would have to wai
That was for tomorrow.

She used to think of hi
as a man, but now all tl
children were older than the
father, and he would be

child, beside her, if she sa
him now. It seemed strang
and there was somethm
^rong in the idea. Whi
be couldn't possibly recog
niie her. She had fenced ii
a hundred acres once, dig
ging the pos tholes herself an«
clamping the wires with jus
a Negro boy to help. Tha
changed a woman. Johi
would be looking for a younj
woman with the peak«
Spanish comb in her hair anc
the painted fan.

Digging postholes changed
a woman. Riding country
roads in the winter when
women had their babies was
another thing; sitting up
nights with sick horses and
sick Negroes and sick children
and hardly ever losing one.
John, I hardly ever lost one of
them! John would see that in
a minute, that would be some-
thing he could understand,
she wouldn't have to explain
anything!

It made her feel like rolling
up her sleeves and putting the
whole place to rights again.
No matter if Cornelia was
determined to be everywhere
at once, there were a great
many things left undone on
this place. She would start
tomorrow and do them. It
was good to be strong enough
for everything, even if all you
made melted and changed and
slipped under your hands, so
that by the time you finished
you almost forgot what you
were working for.

What was it I set out to
do? she asked herself intently,
but she could not remember.
A fog rose over the valley, she
«aw it marching across the
creek, swallowing the trees
and moving up the hill like
ananny of ghosts. Soon it

would be at the near edge of
the orchard, and then it was
time to go in and light the
lamps. Come in, children,
don't stay out in the night

air.

Lighting the lamps had
been beautiful. The children
huddled up to her and
breathed like little calves
waiting at the bars in the
twilight. Their eyes followed
the match and watched the
flame rise and settle in a
blue curve, then they moved
away from her. The lamp
was lit, they didn't have to be
scared and hang on to mother
any more. Never, never, never
more. God, for all my life
I thank Thee. Without
Thee, my God, I could never
have done it. Hail, Mary, full
of grace.

I want you to pick all the
fruit this year and see that

Illlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

nothing is wasted. There's
always someone who can use
it. Don't let good things rot
for want of using. You waste
life when you waste good food.
Don't let things get lost. It's
bitter to lose things. Now
don't let me get to thinking,
not when I am tired and
taking a little nap before

supper.

The pillow rose about her
shoulders and pressed against
her heart and the memory
was being squeezed out of it;
oh, push down the pillow,
somebody; it would smother
her if she tried to hold it.
Such a fresh breeze blowing
and such a green day with no

threats in it. But he had not
come, just the same. What
does a woman do when she
has put on the white veil and
set out the white cake for a
man and he doesn't come?
She tried to remember. No,
I swear he never harmed me
but in that . . . and what
if he did?

There was the day, the day,
but a whirl of dark smoke
rose and covered it, crept up
and over into the bright field
where everything was planted
so carefully in orderly rows.
That was hell, she knew hell
when she saw it. For sixty
years she had prayed against
remembering him and against
losing her soul in the deep
pit of hell, and now the two
things were mingled in one
and the thought of him was
a smoky cloud from hell that
moved and crept in her head
when she had just got rid of
Doctor Harry and was trying

to rest a minute.

Wounded vanity, Ellen,
said a sharp voice in the top
of her mind. Don't let your
wounded vanity get the upper
hand of you. Plenty of girls
get jilted. You were jilted,
weren't you? Then stand up
to it. Her eyelids wavered and
let in streamers of blue-grey
light like tissue paper over
her eyes. She must get up
and pull the shades down or
she'd never sleep. She was in
bed again and the shades were
not down. How could that
happen?

Better turn over, hide
from the light, sleeping in the
light gave you nightmares.
"Mother, how do you feel
now ?" and a stinging wetness
on her forehead. But I don't
like having my face washed in

cold water!

Hapsy ? George ? Lydia ?
Jimmy ? No, Cornelia, and her
features were swollen and full
of little puddles. "They're
coming, darling, they'll all
be here soon." Go wash your
face, child, you look funny.

To page 92

THE JILTING OF GRANNY WEATHERALL

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 87

Instead of obeying, Cornelia
knelt down and put her head
on the pillow. She seemed to
be talking but there was no
sound. "Well, are you tongue
tied? Whose birthday is it?
Arc you going to give a
party?"

Cornelia's mouth moved
urgendy in strange shapes.
"Don't do that, you bother
me, daughter."

"Oh, no, Mother. Oh, no

Nonsense, ft was strange
about children. They disputed
your every word. "No what,

Cornelia?"

"Here's Doctor Harry."

"I won't see that boy again.
He just left five minutes ago."

"That was this morning,
Mother. It's night, now.
Here's the nurse."

"This is Doctor Harry,
Mrs. Weatherall. I never saw
you look so young and
happy!"

"Ah, I'll never be young
again - but I'd be happy if
they'd let me lie in peace and
get rested."

She thought she spoke up

loudly, but no one answered.
.A warm weight on her fore-
head, a warm bracelet on her
wrist, and a breeze went on
whispering, trying to tell her
something. A shuffle of
leaves in the everlasting hand
of God, He blew on them
and they danced and rattled.
"Mother, don't mind, we're
going to give you a little
hypodermic."

"Look here, daughter, how
do ants get in this bed? I
saw sugar ants yesterday."
Did you send for Hapsy, too?

It was Hapsy she really
wanted. She had to go a
long way back through a
great many rooms to find
Hapsy standing with a baby

on her arm. She seemed to
herself to be Hapsy, also, and
the baby on Hapsy's arm was
Hapsy and himself and her-
self, all at once, and there
was no surprise in the meet-
ing.

Then Hapsy melted from

within and turned flimsy as
grey gauze and the baby was
a gauzy shadow, and Hapsy
came up close and said, "I
thought you'd never come,"
and looked at her very
searchingly and said, "You
haven't changed a bit!" They
leaned forward to kiss, when
Cornelia began whispering
from a long way off, "Oh, is
there anything you want to
tell me? Is there anything I
can do for you?"

Yes, she had changed her
mind after sixty years and
she would like to see George.
I want you to find George.
Find him and be sure to tell
him I forgot him. I want him
to know I had my husband
just the same and my children
and my house like any other
woman. A good house, too,
and a good husband that I
loved and fine children out
of him. Better than I hoped
for even. Tell him I was given
back everything he took away

and more. Oh, no, oh, there
was something else besides the

house and the man and the
children. Oh, surely they
were not all? What was it?
Something not given back

Her breath crowded down
under her ribs and grew into
a monstrous frightening shape
with cutting edges; it bored
up into her head, and the
agony was unbelievable: Yes,
John, get the Doctor now,
no more talk, my time has

come.

When this one was born it
should be the last. The last.
It should have been born
first, for it was the one she
had truly wanted. Everything
came in good time. Nothing
left out, left over. She was
strong, in three days she
would be as well as ever.
Better. A woman needed milk
in her to have her full health.

"Mother, do you hear me?"
'Tve been telling you-"
* "Mother, Father Con-

nolly's here."

"I went .to Holy Com-
munion only last week. Tell

him I'm not so sinful as all
that."

"Father just wants to
speak to you."

He could speak as much as
he pleased. It was like him to
drop in and inquire about
her soul as if it were a teeth-
ing baby, and then stay on
for a cup of tea and a round
of cards and gossip. He always
had a funny story of some
sort, usually about an Irish-

man who made his little mis-

takes and confessed them, and
the point lay in some absurd
thing he would blurt out in
the confessional showing his
struggles between naive piety
and original sin.

Granny felt easy about her
soul. Cornelia, where are your
manners? Give Father Con-
nolly a chair. She had her
secret comfortable under-
standing with a few favorite
saints who cleared a straight
road to God for her. All as
surely signed and sealed as

the papers for the new t

Acres. For ever . . hein""11

assigns for ever. '"d

Since the day the

cake was not cut, but tlTnnS
out and wasted. The k*"

bottom dropped out J £
world, and there she wa, ¿J
an¿ TS *ith "otfi

under her feet, and the 3

falling away. His hand?!
caught her under the brj
and she had not fallen tP
was the f reshly polished C
with the green rog on ¡ ^

as betöre. He han cursed ¿T
a sailor's parrot and said "h
kill him for you." Don\ , "
a hand on him, for nw J

!f»ve puling to heav^

Now, Ellen, you must helk,
what I tell you . . - ^

So there wai nothb,
nothing to worry abouts
more, except sometimes ia ¿
night one of the chikho
screamed m a nightmare

they both hustled out shakjj,
and hunting for the natcha
and calling, "There, wait i
.minute, here we are!" u,
get the doctor now, Haprn
time has come. But there wu
Hapsy standing by the bcd
in a white cap. "Cornelia, td]
Hapsy to take off her cap. ]
can't see her plain.''

TT

?*? ???ER eyes opt«
very wide and the room ito«
out like a picture she had see
somewhere. Dark colors will
the shadows rising toward th
ceiling in long angles. Tl
tall black dresser glenne
with nothing on it but John'
picture, enlarged from a Inti
one, with John's eyes vet
black when they should hiv
been blue. ' You never H
him, so how do you bu
how he looked? But then
insisted the copy was perk
it was very rich and hw

some.

For a picture, yes, but t
not my husband. The Uli
by the bed had a linen coy
and a candle and a crucif
The light was bkie fro
Cornelia's silk lampshadi

No sort of light at all, j
frippery. You have to S
forty years with ken*

To page 94

THE JILTING OF GRANNY WEATHERALL

CONTINUED FROM PAGE 92

lamps to appreciate honest elec-
tricity. She felt very strong and
she saw Doctor Harry with a rosy

nimbus around him.

"You took like a saint, Doctor
Harry, and I vow that's as near
as you'll ever come to it."

"She's saying something."

"I heard you, Cornelia. What's
all this carrying-on."

"Father Connolly's saying —"
Cornelia's voice staggered and
bumped like a cart in a bad road.
It rounded corners and turned
back again and arrived nowhere.
Granny stepped up in the cart
very lightly and reached for the
reins, but a man sat beside her
and she knew him by his hands,

driving the cart. She did not look
in his face, for she knew without
seeing, but looked instead down
the road where the trees leaned
over and bowed to each other
and a thousand birds were sing-
ing a Mass.

She felt like singing, too, but
she put her hand in the bosom
of her dress and pulled out a
rosary, and Father Connolly mur-
mured Latin in a very solemn
voice and tickled her feet. Will
you stop that nonsense? I'm a
married woman. What if he did
run away and leave me to face
the priest by myself? I found
another a whole world better. I
wouldn't have exchanged my hus-
band for anybody except St.

Michael himself, and you may tell

him that for me with a thank
you in the bargain.

Light flashed on her closed
lids, and a deep roaring

her. Cornelia, is that lightning? I

hear thunder. There's going to

be a storm. Close all the windows.

Call the children in . . . "Mother,

here we are, all of us." "Is that
you, Hapsy?" "Oh, no, I'm
Lydia. We drove as fast as we

could." Their faces drifted above
her, drifted away. The rosary fell
out of her hands and Lydia put

it back. Jimmy tried to help, their

hands fumbled together, and
Granny closed two fingers around
Jimmys thumb. Beads wouldn't
do, it must be something alive.

She was so amazed her thoughts
ran round and round. So, my dear
Lord, this is my death and I
wasn't even thinking about it.
My children have come to see me
die. But I can't, it's not time. Oh,
I always hated surprises. I wanted
to give Cornelia the amethyst set
— but Hapsy's to wear it when
she wants, and, Doctor Harry, do
shut up. Nobody sent for you. Oh,
my dear Lord, do wait a minute.
I meant to do something about the
Forty Acres, Jimmy doesn't need
it and Lydia will later on, with
that worthless husband of hers. I
meant to finish the altar cloth
and send six bottles of wine to
Sister Borgia for her dyspepsia. I
want to send six bottles of wine
to Sister Borgia, Father Connolly,
now don't let me forget.

Cornelia's voice made short
turns and lilted over and crashed.

"Oh, Mother, oh, Mother, oh

Mother . . ."

"I'm not going, Cornelia. I'n
taken by surprise. I can't go."

You'll see Hapsy again. What
about her ? "I thought you'd never
come." Granny made a long jour-
ney outward, looking for Hapsy.
What if I don't find her. What
then ? Her heart sank down and
down, there was no bottom to
death, she couldn't come to the
end of it. The blue light from
Cornelia's lampshade drew into
a tiny point in the centre of her
brain, it flickered and winked like
an eye, quietly it fluttered and

dwindled.

Granny lay curled down within
herself, amazed and watchful, star-
ing at the point of light that was
herself; her body was now only
a deeper mass of shadow in the
endless darkness and this dark-
ness would curl around the light
and swallow it up. God, give a
sign!

For the second time there was
no sign. Again no bridegroom
and the priest in the house. She
could not remember any other

sorrow because this grief wiped
them all away. Oh, no, there's
nothing more cruel than this —

I'll never forgive it. She stretched
herself with a deep breath and
blew out the light.

(Copyright)

$