She
Took His Hand
Prologue
Marion
Bolick Perutelli
Cincinnati,
Ohio
Summer, 1851
On
one side of the open grave stood a seven-year-old girl. The little
girl’s gaze was fixed on a boy standing on the other side
of the grave. He stood beside his mother’s closed coffin,
and every so often he would reach out to touch it. To the little
girl, it seemed as if he wanted to make sure his mother was still
there.
She had been standing beside her Mama. Now, she inched her way
behind her Mama, behind the gathering, behind the minister. The
little girl went to the boy’s side. Once there, she took
his hand.
He grasped her hand tightly, but his gaze remained on his mother’s
coffin.
When the open coffin had been sitting in his aunt’s parlor,
the little girl felt his pain there too, and she’d seen his
tears. She’d heard the aunt say, she had been a sister to
the mother; the boy’s name was Nicholas, and he was twelve
years old.
When the little girl’s Mama said, “We’re going
to a funeral,” the little girl had not fully understood the
meaning of “funeral.” She’d not understood the
meaning of “coffin” and “grave” either. She
had learned those meanings through grown-up talk in the aunt’s
parlor.
The little girl and her Mama had come from Nashville, Tennessee,
to spend the summer with her Mama’s cousin in Cincinnati.
The cousin had been a friend to Nicholas’ mother.
At the grave, when the minister said of Nicholas’ mother:
“She’s committed a sin, blacker than most . . . ”
Nicholas gripped the little girl’s hand hard, patting his
mother’s coffin.
Some men appeared at the grave. After the men tied ropes around
the coffin, Nicholas touched it for the last time. To the little
girl, he leaned over as if afraid the men might drop his mother
as they lowered her into the grave. When the first shovel of dirt
hit the coffin, he gripped the little girl’s hand so hard,
she almost cried out.
Nicholas’ aunt came to lead him away. Because he was still
holding the little girl’s hand, she went with him.
“Olivia,” her Mama called out, “where are you going?”
“Oh please! Allow her to stay with Nicholas,” the aunt
said. “We’ll meet you back at the house.”
Olivia waved to her Mama before climbing into a waiting coach
with Nicholas and his aunt. As the open coach drove slowly away,
he turned about to stare over his shoulder at his mother’s
grave. Olivia turned with him. Men were shoveling dirt into the
grave, and she felt Nicholas trembling.
The coach went down a hill, and the grave was lost from view.
Nicholas released Olivia’s hand. Only then, did he turn to
look at her....
Novel
Excerpt
***
Marion
Bolick Perutelli is a native Tennessean, reared in Memphis.
She is the author of a historical novel, The Mud Daubers,
and a novella, From Whence He Came And Short Stories, both
set in Memphis and published by Cold Tree Press in 2005. Her short
stories and essays have been published in newspapers and anthologies,
including Our Voices: Williamson County Literary Review,
1995, 1997, and 1998. Marion was a charter member of the Tennessee
Writers Alliance. Currently a resident of Franklin, Tennessee,
she is also a member of WordSmiths, Ink; the Council for the Written
Word; and the Fiction Writers at The Martin Center of Senior Citizens.
©
Marion Bolick Perutelli