West By God Virginia

By Cynthia Hearne Darling

Dana, a young woman in 1970, lives in Washington, D.C. Through a series of events, she returns to her family's native town in northern West Virginia. An old friend of her grandmother Ada has offered to give her possessions that had once belonged to her grandmother. Dana finds that her grandmother had left a letter for her, written years before, leaving her money and jewelry, and asking her to solve the mystery of what happened to Ada's father and why he deserted her as a child.

Dana, at this same time, travels from Washington to monitor a federal program in Southern West Virginia. She meets Seth, a little boy about to become a foster child. She finds a strong emotional connection with him, eventually becoming his guardian.

Now armed with sufficient funds from her grandmother,, Dana quits her job and moves back to her roots in Wheeling, where she explores family ties and the city's incredible history in manufacturing and steel. She falls in love with the city and with Jim, a mining engineer, who wants to marry her. The help and love of two older people who knew her family sustain and support her. Little Seth becomes part of her life, as he is now allowed to live with her.

She discovers that an empty lot on which her grandparents' house resided can be purchased. The deal done, she and Jim walk around the property, sit down to rest, and encounter a curved bone arising from the ground. They think it may be from a deer, but, curious, they take it to professionals including the police who identify it as being from a human. Further exhumation identifies it as that of a young Caucasian woman. The coroner office reports that the young woman was killed by a blow to the head, the date of death being somewhere in the 1930's.

Dana is determined to solve the mystery before she and Jim build on the property. In order to do so, she delves deeply into the lives of her grandparents, their children and the servants who lived in the house at the time of the young woman's death.
Learning about the past becomes a life-changing event for Dana, as she discovers the mystery of the body and what happened to her grandmother's father as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Hearne Darling
• Release date: Jul 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463396629

Cynthia Hearne Darling

Cynthia Hearne Darling has a BA in English from the College of William and Mary and masters' degrees in social work and public administration. She recieved a poetry award in Fairfax County, Virginia, for her poem Mississippi Mother.She spent years writing family histories of patients in the mental hospital where she worked as a social worker. Give her Shakespeare, the opera and some good crossword puzzles and she'll be content. She is the author of Forty-Nine Poems, Shunned, a novel, and is finishing a story about Georgetown, D.C., in the sixties. She has worked on Indian reservations and the U.S. Department of Justice. She prefers the reservations.

Book preview

CHAPTER I

It was 1970. Dana pulled back her sleeve and looked at her watch. If the passenger sitting next to her on the plane had been watching surreptitiously, he would have noticed the gold frame around the numbers, the supple skin of the watch band. Expensive, he would have noted. But he hadn’t noticed; his head was laid back upon the seat rest, eyes closed and mouth half-opened. If he had been awake, he might also have asked himself why this well dressed young woman was heading to one of the poorest states in the Union. Instead, he was dreaming in bits and pieces about his childhood down below; it wasn’t a nice dream. He wiggled around slightly in his seat.

Dana was sitting by the window. It wasn’t her favorite seat, but it was all she could get. She had looked at her watch by habit, so habitual an action that she was barely aware of doing it. Her life up to now had been dedicated to marching to the tempo of Washington, D.C. She looked out of the plane window, which she was sometimes afraid to do. This time, she forced her eyes to move toward the glass that separated her from the vastness of a space with no limits. The clouds were buffeting each other, pushing each other out of place. They were not happy today. Suddenly, she felt nausea creep up into her throat. She had been afraid this was going to happen. The initial fear she had experienced in the airport while sitting in the metal chair had produced a clammy sweat on the palms of her hands, even before she had boarded the plane. No, she told herself, she was not going to be sick. It was a matter of control.

She pushed her blonde hair back behind her ears, more as a nervous gesture than a need. Dana knew it was a short trip, but she also knew that the air outside, even the mountains below, controlled whether or not she lived or died. She struggled to think other thoughts. Could she control her mind enough to work on the crossword puzzle in her purse? The answer was a resounding No. Wind gusts were hammering about the fragile wings as if deliberately trying to knock the plane off balance, trying to insert themselves into the pressurized cabin.

She was not going to throw up. She would fight to keep it down. She thrust her fingers into her ears. It was always better if she didn’t have to hear the engine. She pushed her fingers as hard as she could into both ears, but she still heard the sounds. If the flight attendant walked past, she would have to remove her fingers, so that it didn’t look as if she were losing her mind. Her arms were tense and tired from holding up her hands.

It wasn’t getting any better. For an unknown amount of time, the plane had begun fighting the up and down drafts that signified they were in the mountains. Her adjacent companion was now snoring softly. She had taken the Dramamine before taking off, but it didn’t fight the fear. She hardly ever drank but she wished they had served alcohol during the flight. Too late now. She once heard a man at a cocktail party describe landing at Charleston, West Virginia, as like stopping on the head of a pin. The guests around him were amused.

Suddenly they dropped down into the buffeting clouds, tossed left and right, then dropped again unexpectedly. There it was – the head of a pin. Everything was clear now. They were heading for a straight line that imposed itself upon the surrounding mountains. She braced her hands upon the arm rests as the plane lowered itself, trying to become horizonal with the puny landing strip. The tires hit, the motors raced, and the brakes took over. Could they win the battle before the mountain top disappeared? They hit solid ground, ground that seemed to be fighting them back. At least they had arrived. Dying here wouldn’t be so bad.

She felt her muscles relax as she slumped into the seat. The man beside her was still letting out squeaks and snorts. He didn’t seem to be aware that they had landed.

It was like day and night. The evil spirit that had absorbed Dana had come out of her body. Her need to escape had itself flown away. She no longer cared about anything, especially how long it would take to be herded off the plane. Funny how she no longer minded what had minutes ago terrified her. Thank you, God. She was free.

Calm and civilized again, her body was in control. She shuffled bit by bit with all the other passengers through the tube-like body of the plane. She dragged her bag behind her, stepping over the crack between the airplane door and the moveable hallway that led to the airport building. She paused, looked down and saw the tiniest sliver of the tarmac below her, but it wasn’t the tarmac that caught her attention. It was a slight smell of something like fog or earth, something new to her. Then it was gone.

The rental car agency was in the terminal. Her papers were in her purse on her shoulder, that giant utility bag of leather that carried all her essentials that she needed to exist away from D.C. It was soft and gray and smelled faintly like costly purses do, a smell that evoked the life of a real cow. It advertised itself subtly by the rectangular brand name it boasted. She stopped, turned the name of the bag inward toward her body, as if she were suddenly ashamed of this boastful advertisement. No one had been looking at her; it just felt right to do so.

Shortly, the rental car papers were processed. Dana had signed the papers without caring what they demanded of her, was given the car keys, and headed outside with her bag toward a mid-sized Chevy. She wanted to hurry, but her heels were pushing her toes into the front of her shoes. She had to slow down. There was that smell again, carried by the wind; she couldn’t identify it.

At last she got to the car and threw her suitcase into the back seat, placing her purse onto the passenger seat. She breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down, her weight finally off her feet. She had comfortable shoes in her suitcase. Better change now. She did, and in two minutes, shod with tennis shoes, she laid the map and its directions before her on the dashboard.

In a short while she found herself driving around the block where the state capitol was located, trying to figure where to park the car. Things were going well. In a short time she had parked, found the state Department of Justice and introduced herself to Milly Stierwalt who was to take her South to visit a federally-funded program. Together they left the gray building and headed to Dana’s car. This time the purse went into the back seat, as Milly took her place beside Dana.

What a beautiful pocketbook you have, was Milly’s first remark. It made Dana feel uneasy. She shouldn’t have brought it. After all, this was supposed to be the second poorest state in the union, at least according to what she had read.

Thank you. It was a present from a friend. I only take it on trips because it’s big enough to carry everything I need. She tried to change the subject.

Milly, tell me about the place where we’re going. I know something about it, like the high poverty level, but I’d like to know more about the domestic violence center itself. Oh, and who actually is going to receive the grant we are bringing.

During the next hour she picked up a series of facts from Milly, not noticing that were occurring outside the car window. Neither did she notice the signs on the highway pointing to mining companies down gravel roads or the little pockets of coal coming out of the steep hillsides that bordered the car on both sides. She did glance at the few houses along the road and the railroad track that periodically peeked out from somewhere. Later, she remembered the paucity of vehicles on the road itself.

She did realize, however, that the mountains surrounding them were not getting any shorter. She was glad this was a daytime drive. It was impossible now to see far ahead of the car; every time she maneuvered one curve, another curve lay ahead. Milly had begun to watch intently.

See that sign ahead? This is where we turn off. We need to slow down here.

They did need to slow down. The turn came quickly. As the car went to the right, it began to emit rattles from its Chevy body. The new road they were on looked to Dana as if it had once been concrete, but now it was pock-marked with holes that must have seen many winters and many trucks. Now, the car was towered over by mountains on both sides of it. It looked to Dana as if the road had been placed here because of the small creek that had begun to follow them on the right side of the road.

Shortly, a narrow strip of land began to appear on the left side of the road, allowing room for houses to spring up. They were mostly frame, all from an earlier time. There were porches on many of them that seemed to provide room for items that hadn’t made it into the house – porch furniture, straggly Christmas lights, a washing machine of another era, and a variety of tools and implements. Dana couldn’t see any people outside, just an old pickup truck, rusting out in the yard of one of the houses.

This was not looking good. As Dana continued to slow down at Milly’s direction, what must be the town appeared ahead of them. All of the buildings lay on the narrow strips of land on both sides of the road, the little creek now hiding behind the structures. The land rose up steeply behind the houses, as if refusing to allow the townspeople to escape from its borders. As they slowed down, Dana noticed that the March wind was throwing out gusts alternating with shoots of sunshine. The car struggled against the windy blows but always righted itself.

She suddenly felt over-dressed, not so much because of the weather, but because her entire outfit seemed out of place. Perhaps these feelings were caused by the sudden appearance of a man standing near the road who stared at them as they passed. Was it her imagination or had she really seen a streak of coal soot across his face? No, that was a little too dramatic, like something out of a movie. She watched him out of her rear-view mirror, to find that he was still there, watching her car as well. She watched him as his figure disappeared according to the laws of perspective.

Milly pointed to a road on the right after they had passed through the town. It ran up a steep niche toward a building a hundred yards up. The car struggled up the rocky driveway toward a house that looked newly covered with siding, hiding the remnants of the original building. Wispy smoke was trying to make its way out of a chimney. At Milly’s direction, Dana parked on a bit of gravel next to the front porch. Asking Milly to wait, she quickly threw off the leather coat she had been wearing and smoothed her blonde hair behind her ears. She had no choice but to take the elegant bag in with her.

A gray-haired woman came to the door, greeting Milly with affection, and when introduced to Dana, she said,

My goodness, we are so pleased that you came all the way from Washington. I hope you’ll find everything just as it should be. Please come in.

Milly said, Mrs. Henry, this is Dana Hunter, the lady I told you about from the Department of Justice.

Nice to meet you, Ma’am. Would you all like a cup of tea or coffee?

No, thank you, Dana replied quickly.

She looked around. There was a wood-burning stove in the kitchen where they were standing. Mrs. Henry saw her looking. She said nervously,

We have a gas furnace. I just use the stove for Spring days like today. The shelter money we get from Washington keeps this place going – our pride and joy is that room over there.

In an adjoining room to the kitchen was what must have once been the living room. It held a plastic play pen for a child, a big sofa covered by a quilt, and even an electric typewriter sitting on top of a desk. There were toys in a chest and a rug on the floor with alphabetic letters of many colors as the design.

This room has been a godsend for the women and children we take in here – we have two ladies right now, one with the sweetest boy of nine – his name is Seth. She lowered her voice. His mama is out, ran up to Welch, supposed to be seeing about a job. He’s up in the room. Guess he heard you all coming in. And the other guest, she’s upstairs in her own room, too.

She talked quietly. She just got here this morning, and feels more comfortable to be in her own room, poor thing. They was bruises all over her arms when she got here.

She ushered them into the room, where she sat on the chair next to a desk and Milly and Dana shared the couch.

It’s so bad around here. These men, some of them get to drinking, especially when there’s no work – take it out on their wives.

She paused. Don’t get me wrong. These are mostly good, God-fearing people here. Just some bad apples that can’t take the stress. She changed the subject.

I’ll introduce you to the boy in a bit. When he comes down, don’t mention the bump on his forehead. The social worker said his daddy hit him with a bowl, but, believe me, his mama is nothing to write home about, either.

Dana saw immediately that her organized list of questions and her standard interview methods were not going to apply here. She already knew that the yearly federal grant of $40,000 was already serving its purpose. It was evident.

Milly looked at Dana, and asked, Mrs. Henry, can you come down town with us for a picture with the Mayor? He wants to put it in the paper showing you accepting the grant.

She beamed. Well, if Seth’s mom gets back. I don’t want to leave him alone.

As if he had been listening, a boy’s skinny frame appeared on the stairs, covered by jeans and a plaid shirt under a face that was almost elfin. His eyes were big and brown. His hair was reddish brown and shaggy. Dana’s first reaction was that his body frame was delicate but the spark coming out of his eyes was warm and strong. He stopped halfway down the stairs as if afraid to go any farther.

Come on down, Boy. These ladies would like to meet you.

Yes, ma’am.

Seth stood before them like a puppy in a shelter, which he was, thought Dana. He had that look like the man she had seen in her rear view mirror earlier, as if he wanted to look at her but was afraid.

Mrs. Henry was smiling. He’s only been here a few days, but he’s already getting the hang of the electric typewriter. Son, show us. She looked proud. To tell the truth, he knows more about typing than I’ve been able to learn in a year! All these keys that make up the letters – electric typewriters don’t give a body time to think. If I’m careful, it does helps me write letters and keep records, though."

Mrs. Henry arose and motioned for Seth to sit in her chair. He sat there for a second, his spindly legs wrapped around the metal base of the chair. He really did know how to make it work. Almost boldly, Seth turned on the swivel chair toward Dana.

Mrs. Henry let me use her typing book. That’s why I can do it. There’s a diagram there that tells me what the keys are.

Dana had hardly ever had the chance to interact with a child recently, but immediately she found herself saying, It looks like you are a quick learner. Can you read that well, too?

Without answering, he got down out of the chair after he carefully turned off the typewriter and went toward a corner cabinet where a stack of children’s books lay. Finally, he looked up at Dana.

It ain’t really a book, but it’s my favorite. It’s a Superman comic book.

He looked at her questioningly, as if to ask her permission. She smiled. He brought it over to her.

Why do you like this one?

He paused. Nobody had asked him this kind of question before.

Well, he’s good, nobody hurts him and he don’t have no trouble in helping others. He’s got that suit. Wish I had one like it.

He stopped talking, looking down as if he had said too much. Her unexpected, sudden instinct was to protect him, from what she didn’t know.

Seth, that’s about the best answer I have ever heard. She wanted to pat him on the back but was afraid to spoil the moment.

In an hour’s time, Milly and Dana made ready to go to the Mayor’s office. Mrs. Henry was not able to go with them, as Seth’s mother still had not come back to the shelter. They were driving back to Charleston after the photos were taken, so Dana said her good-byes to Mrs. Henry and Seth and the little house on the hill. As Seth stood in the doorway, he gave Dana his skinny hand, asking her a question so seriously, as if he had been thinking of it all day.

Miss, what’s it like back there where you’re from?

It’s different, Seth, but it’s both good and bad. I wish you could see it someday.

Me, too. Maybe if my mom gets a good job----his voice trailed off.

This time Dana did pat him on the back.

In the car on the way back, the picture of Seth wouldn’t leave her mind.

Milly, I hardly ever contact a grantee directly. Do you think it would be alright if I called Mrs. Henry from time to time?

It’s fine with me. I just don’t have the time to keep up with all my grantees these days.

Once back in the airplane