The Letter

Willie Sutherland had worked at the Valdosta County post office ever since he put his back out farming tobacco.  Local folks tell me that it was the passing of his wife Ethel, back in ’23 that kept Willie out of the fields; not an aching back.  For the last six years, Willie rode his old grey mule, Patsy down the dirt road into Valdosta.  He would tie her up to the split-rail fence as to keep her out of Caroline Jackson’s prize winning rutabaga patch, and went about his business of sorting the town’s mail for a meager fifteen cents a day.  Then again, fifteen cents a day was a king’s ransom to an old widower like Willie, especially in Valdosta County.
         And so, life in Valdosta went about at the slow pace of poured molasses, up until the day that the wind shifted and brought in a sweet breeze from the southeast.  Local folks tell me that the sweet breeze was none other than Miss Ruth Anne Hall, a middle-aged widow with eyes like deep blue cornflowers and a sweet melodious voice; which coincidentally, she used for the good of the Lord every Sunday.  Ruth Anne had arrived in Valdosta as part of a Baptist missionary group sent from Macon, courtesy of the good Reverend, Marcus Harvey.  Though a quiet, modest woman, Ruth Anne had taken the entire community of Valdosta by surprise; all save Willie Sutherland.
         Willie Sutherland did not have time for Jesus, especially when giving thanks to his creator would require him to bathe and adorn his Sunday best; a task he hadn’t even considered since the passing of his wife Ethel.  Rather, Willie spent his free time away from the post office, on his front porch packing his pipe full of home grown tobacco, with a full whiskey jug not far from his side.  Willie enjoyed the “drink”, especially on Sundays.  He would be damned if he would sacrifice his hard-earned time to partake in any sort of religious revelry.  Besides, he thought to himself, if Sunday is a day of rest and praising the Lord, I reckon I can tackle both right here on my front porch.  Obstinance kept Willie Sutherland from ever running into Valdosta’s enchanting new edition, Ruth Anne, until fate bought them together at the county fair in late July of 1930.
         The Valdosta County Fair was certainly no fancy affair, mostly just a chance to sell livestock and win ribbons for the largest zucchini or best pie.  Willie Sutherland had avoided the fair ever since Ethel passed on; she always entered the blue-ribbon winning rhubarb pie and Willie couldn’t bring himself to attend without a delicious piece of pie as bait.  “Fairs were for gossips and cheats”, Willie had told me on several occasions.
         However, this year, Willie had been hand picked, by the mayor himself, to judge the cake entries.  Elated at the prospect of enjoying a free meal, Willie decided that it was high time he fixed himself up, now that he would be in the public eye.  Sporting a fresh linen shirt and suspenders, Willie effortlessly greased his thinning hair with pomade, as if he was headed out to court a young gal.  Willie had even managed to tame his unruly beard, though he had always thought that men folk just didn’t look right without a full set of whiskers.  With a toothless grin, Willie headed out to the Valdosta County Fair that warm summer afternoon in July, never to return the same man.
         Willie Sutherland first laid eyes on Ruth Anne the moment she took center stage to collect her first prize blue ribbon for the most delicious pineapple upside-down cake Willie had ever tasted.  From that moment on, Willie was charmed hog eyed.  When Ruth Anne approached Willie to thank him for his fair judgment, all he could spurt out was a quiet, “H-h-howdy Miss Hall.”  Though she was fifteen years his junior, Ruth Anne managed to see past Willie’s toothless grin and unruly keep to his kind, warm eyes and soft heart.  Ever since the first night Willie took Ruth Anne down to the bend in the crick, the two had been thicker than flies on a barrel of molasses.  It wasn’t long after, so the local folks tell me, that Ruth Anne agreed to become Mrs. Willie Sutherland and made a permanent residence of Valdosta.
         Folks say that life went on smoother than a babies bottom in Valdosta after that, and the mail was much more efficient to boot.  Ruth Anne had managed to clean up ol’ Willie a bit.  She kept him away from the “drink”, got him out of Soggy Bottom Harry’s gambling saloon, and Willie was even seen at the First Baptist Church from time to time.  Local folks say that Willie Sutherland was indeed a changed man.  It wasn’t until the spring of 1931, that the folks in Valdosta got the see the old Willie Sutherland again.
         In the spring of 1931, that sweet breeze from the southeast finally corrected itself and a cold wind from the north blew in.  That day, Willie had been sorting through the town’s mail, just as he had done every day since 1923 when Ethel passed on.  But today, he noticed a letter addressed to this wife, Ruth Anne.  Ruth Anne ain’t never got no letters before, Willie thought to himself.  He decided to deliver the letter personally.  Local folks say, that after Ruth Anne received that letter on official Baptists Ministry stationary, things between she and Willie weren’t ever the same. 
         “Ruth Anne, sugar pie, I gots to talk wit you” Willie stammered, pushing open the screen door.
         Ruth Anne, who had been dozing off on the back porch, suddenly realized that Willie was not in his right mind, “Willie Sutherland, you’ve been consortin’ with the devil himself!  Look at ya, drunk as a skunk!  If only the good Lord could see you now,” she hollered.
         Willie slumped down into his rocking chair and lit his pipe, “Ruth Anne, as your husband, I de-mand you tell me why in God’s name you’ve’ been actin’ like this.”
         “Willie, I haven’t treated you any different since the day I said, “I do”.  Why do you always insist on pryin’ into my personal matters?” Ruth Anne asked, annoyed.
         “You’re my wife!  You don’t have per-son-el matters.  There ain’t no per-son-nel matters between husband and wife.”
         “A woman has the right to her privacy Willie.  You can deny me all sorts of things, but I won’t let you take that away.”
         “I reckon you best tell me about this secret letter you’ve been pinin’ over before I take my strap to ya!” Willie hollered, intoxication slurring his words.
         Ruth Anne frowned at Willie, went into the house and returned with the letter in her hand.  She stood towering over Willie, her arms crossed, and said, “The letter, my darlin’, is from the good Reverand Marcus Harvey in Macon.  There, you satisfied yet?”
         “What in the hell would that man want with you?  You’ve paid your time to those Baptist people.  If they need you to convert mo’ poor folk for your silly cause, then go right ahead and leave.  You’ve been nothin’ but cold to me these past few weeks, and I could sure do without another mouth to feed.  You eat more than Patsy!” Willie shouted, throwing up his arms in disgust.
         Ruth Anne sank onto the hard wooden floorboards and sobbed, “How can you be so cruel?  The Reverend Harvey is doing God’s work.”
         “Cruel, woman?  Cruel?!” he shouted, pushing himself out of the chair and staggering to his feet, “Cruel is connin’ them good people into that pole barn you call God’s house and emptyin’ their wallets for them pagan babies in African.  Cruel is battin’ yo’ she-devil eyes and charming me into wearin’ them fancy clothes, and singin’ them ridiculous songs.  Cruel is you woman, and your whole lot!”
         “You don’t know nothin’ Willie Sutherland, and you never will!” she shouted, turning red in the face.
         Willie staggered towards the screen door, flung it open and went inside, letting the door snap shut behind him.  He turned around, pressing his face against the mesh screen and said, “You’re right about that Ruth Anne.  A man ain’t meant to know a lot of things and he’s better off for it.  Only your good Lord knows what that letter done say, ‘taint my business to read it.  But as long as I’m man of this here house, I won’t have no more of your Jesus teachin’s, no sir.  If you want to swindle the poor folks of Valdosta, you ain’t goin’ to use my porch as your soap box.”
         With that, Willie shut the door and went inside to sleep off his bathtub gin.  Ruth Anne never did come to sleep beside him.  Local folks tell me that Ruth Anne returned to Macon and eventually married the good Reverend Marcus Harvey; others say that she headed up north to Yankee country instead.  Willie Sutherland was never quite the same after that evening.  He continues to sort the mail for the Valdosta County post office with the same determination, but every night, as the rides Patsy home down the dirt road, his shoulders slump a little lower.