Grudges in the Garden

By the time little Davey Young commenced to courting Margaret Ann Elliot, the families had been feuding so long that no one could remember how it had started.

“Ain't my business,” my grandmother told Uncle Shad over iced tea and pimento sandwiches,

“But after 30 or 40 years, if'n I couldn't recollect the cause of a quarrel, I b'lieve I'd let her go.”

“Ayuh,” Shad nodded, “But you ain't the Youngs or the Elliots. They ain't what you'd call forgivin' folks.”

“Reckon that's so,” Uncle Willie agreed, accepting a sprig of mint for his tea, “They's both hard families. They tend their grudges like some folks tend a garden.”

“Damn foolishness,” Nana pronounced, always preferring to have the last word, and the two men nodded solemnly while she refilled their glasses. The two young people under discussion were disappearing over the rise of The Old Road. At the sound of an approaching engine, they picked up their pace, snatched each other's hands and gracefully jumped the guardrail, vanishing into the fog but it was only Cap's old pickup truck and it passed harmlessly by. It took several seconds before I realized that we'd all been holding our breath.

Not that it made any difference, but the village was far and away on the side of love. Very few were willing to actively risk the wrath of the warring families but islanders tended to turn a blind eye. No one reported when they were seen together, no one followed their movements, no one turned them in at the Saturday night dance. The general feeling was that the sins of the fathers - whatever they might have been - should not be visited upon Davey and Margaret Ann decades later. The elder Youngs and Elliots saw things differently. It was, as anyone could see,

a storm in the making and it broke on a fine Sunday morning just as the Baptist Church let out and Davey and Margaret approached the pastor. They were, as they told him, using the then popular phrase, “free, white and 21” and they wanted to be married. The reaction of their families was predictable - rage, horror, shame and shotguns - and James quickly led them back into the church and sanctuary.

“Not while I draw breath!” Margaret Ann's daddy, Nathan, shouted and took a swing at Davey's daddy, Gilbert, with the butt end of his gun.

“Hell will freeze first!” Gilbert shouted back and rammed his own gun into Nathan's belly. In a matter of seconds, both men were on the ground in a tangle of arms, legs and shotguns, flailing wildly at each other and raising a cloud of dust and gravel into the summer air. The crowd watched with that morbid kind of fascination people have for car wrecks until the families finally stepped in and separated them. Both men broke free and rushed the front doors of the church with God only knew what intentions but the pastor intervened.

“THIS IS GOD'S HOUSE!” he roared at them, “YOU'LL NOT DEFILE IT WITH ANGER OR GUNS!”

This unexpected show of temper was so unlike the pastor, a generally patient, soft spoken, and forgiving man of grace and mild manner, that everyone was caught off guard. Nathan and Gilbert froze in their tracks and it gave James the time to collect himself and his thoughts.

“God's house,” he repeated firmly but calmly, “I'll have no more violence outside or inside it.”

“This ain't your business, Mr. Minister,” Gilbert said sullenly, “Stay outta of it.”

“Send the children out,” Nathan advised darkly, “Or God's house or not, we'll jist take 'em.”

But the island had had enough. Uncle Willlie and Uncle Shad stepped forward. Sparrow hobbled up beside them. Cap and all four of his sons, both the Ryans, and a half dozen of the Sullivan brothers stepped neatly between the pastor and the men with the guns. They were joined by several of the womenfolk including Miz Clara, Aunt Pearl and Aunt Vi. My grandmother sighed, took my hand in her's and moved up beside them. Aunt Jenny and Ruthie came along as well,

then the McIntyres, the Tituses, the Albrights. Miz Hilda and Doc McDonald stepped up arm in arm, then Gene with Buttons at his side, and Johnny with his crowd of brothers and sisters. The rest of the congregation stood squarely and umistakably behind them. The Youngs and the Elliots were outnumbered and outflanked and they knew it. Nathan and Gilbert lowered their guns reluctantly.

James allowed himself a small smile. “Good,” he said approvingly, “Now maybe we can work all this out.” The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Happy endings though come in all sizes and colors and they're not always what we hope for or expect. After a time, the Youngs and the Elliots did reach a kind of detente and learn how to more or less peacefully coexist, proving that people can change. But without a common enemy,

Davey and Elizabeth Ann changed as well. Without the allure of a forbidden romance, they drifted apart and over time became fast friends but never anything more. They'd taken the long way around, Nana said, but in the end, they got where they were meant to be.