The Willow

by L.G. McCary

The Sallowight willow was nothing special to look at from the outside. Just big and old with a thick curtain of branches that made it feel like you were stepping through a leafy waterfall. But in the center around the trunk, it was like a room. The mossy ground was softer than a carpet, and even in the brightness of high noon, it was always a golden twilight inside the branches. The air smelled pleasantly of earth and the river nearby, and the whole place was warm and drowsy and made you want to rest for a spell.

Mrs. Hazel Watson said the willow was older than Sallowight itself, and she didn’t know how other folks got along without one. She wasn’t much inclined to visit the willow herself, but she didn’t get out these days except to church. The willow wasn’t far if she needed to go. She could see it from her back porch, in fact. She might go once a year on the anniversary of her husband’s passing, but she’d outlived him by so long that most people had forgotten there ever was a Mr. Watson, including Hazel herself sometimes. She remembered him mostly when she did a little gardening because he would mow the yard and trim the hedges and spread manure for her, but she had a boy from the high school who did all those things now. She wasn’t ever one to need the willow in the first place. Not like Chrissy Ann Parker.

Chrissy Ann Parker did go to the willow fairly often, but the only reason Mrs. Hazel Watson knew about it was she could see everyone coming and going from her rocking chair on that big back porch. Chrissy Ann wished she’d sit somewhere else. The willow wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t polite to keep track of who went and how often.

Chrissy Ann was a Mrs., too, but no one had ever called her Mrs. Parker, and Chrissy Ann had begun to suspect it was a slight, but she knew she shouldn’t complain. A Mrs. was someone with a passel of kids, but Chrissy Ann had been married seventeen years without a baby. She had a lot of candles, though, and she always burned them on the sill of the front window. One of the candles she only burned for a few minutes each year because it was the first one and almost gone, but she’d never get rid of it, even though the wick was ash and the wax thin as paper on the bottom of the jar. Someone had bought it for her sixteen years ago (she never could remember who, but it wasn’t Mrs. Hazel Watson). Even though the ribbon had faded from bubblegum pink to off-white, the smooth glass was still clearly etched with the name Sarah.

The day she got that candle was the first time Chrissy Ann had visited the willow. She knew her eyes were going to water no matter how hard she tried, so she up and went. She couldn’t remember much of that day really. It was all fuzzy, which was how it usually was with the willow, but truth be told she didn’t want to remember.

Her neighbor, Joshua Cooley, remembered.

Joshua (it was Cools to most people) saw Chrissy Ann stumbling out of the house that night and thought she was drunk the way she was swaying back and forth on her feet, but when he saw her crawling in the direction of the willow, he knew better. He told his wife, and Greta said she’d better follow Chrissy Ann, and they got into an argument about whether it was right to go when you weren’t the one who needed to let tears fall. In the end he let Greta go and sit beside Chrissy Ann for a few hours. Cools didn’t like it, but he was a man and guessed he didn’t understand Chrissy Ann’s trouble like Greta did.

It wasn’t like Cools didn’t have need of the willow himself once in a while. When his papa passed back in fifth grade, Cools visited it with his mama for weeks and weeks. He’d show up to school with leaves in his hair, and his teacher would gently brush them into the trash and send him to the bathroom to wash his face saying, “Your eyes are a little red, Joshua.” Cools always appreciated how his teacher (he’d forgotten her name, but she smelled like cough drops and coffee) was more of a grandmother those weeks than a teacher. She even snuck him a few peppermints now and again though Cools joked that was probably for everyone else’s benefit since his mother forgot to make him brush his teeth.

He hadn’t been near the willow in many years except to make sure Chrissy Ann made it there alright (Greta asked him to check on her sometimes), and he counted his blessings for that. He and Greta and the kids were just fine, and he figured the kids knew about the willow but didn’t think much of it.

Katie and Jack Cooley did know about the willow. Jack didn’t think much about it except how the leaves were strange. Why didn’t that tree ever lose its leaves? He did ask his mama why Miss Chrissy Ann went so much, but she hushed him and said something about candles. Jack really wished people would stop treating him like a baby because he was in third grade now, but anyway his teacher taught them that willows were dee-sid-you-uss trees that were supposed to lose their leaves in the fall, and he wanted to know why that willow never did, not even when it snowed.

Katie thought Jack should hush because he didn’t know anything and didn’t need to know anything. She didn’t care why the leaves never fell off, but she knew about Miss Chrissy Ann because Miss Chrissy Ann got sick once when she came to drink tea with Mama and puked all over Katie’s half of the bathroom. It didn’t make sense that day that Miss Chrissy Ann was happy to be sick, but now that Katie was twelve, she knew why. She didn’t ever want to have babies because she could never be happy about puking. Besides, the puking always meant Miss Chrissy Ann would be going to the willow soon. She’d followed her to the tree once, but Katie didn’t dare go through the leaves herself. Her mama had found her staring at it and sent her home, saying, “I’ll tell you about it when I get back.” Mama always kept her word about things like that, so that’s how Katie knew about everything. She was old enough to know about some grownup things, but Jack still wasn’t, and the reason people treated him like a baby was because he acted like one, so there.

It wasn’t like the willow was only for grownups though because Katie was old enough to go if she got that wet feeling at the corners of her eyes. Mama said so. Katie knew her daddy had gone when he was little because he told her the story about the peppermints. Kids like Jack could have some wet cheeks now and then, and it was okay because they didn’t know better yet. You didn’t go to the willow unless you had a grownup kind of reason that was serious.

She didn’t know what reason Abigail Lawrence had to spend every lunch period at the willow, but Katie wasn’t supposed to pay attention to people going to the tree in the first place. It wasn’t nice, and the school nurse said she’d be in trouble if she talked about it, and anyway Katie wasn’t a tattletale like Jack.

Abigail Lawrence did visit the willow almost every lunch period, and she didn’t care that Katie knew. She didn’t care if anyone knew, really (Miss Chrissy Ann was there last week), but Abigail appreciated that Katie wasn’t a tattletale.

Abigail was in the seventh grade, and she dyed her long hair black because it made her daddy mad and played with safety pins instead of writing notes for class because it made her mama mad. Like Katie and Jack and all the other kids, she’d always known about the willow. The ancient tree shimmered golden green by the riverbank at the edge of town. It was always full and warm, even under a big pile of snow every winter. Everybody knew what it was for, of course. She first visited on a dare. Philip Carmichael, Jr., the reverend’s annoying son, dared her to touch the trunk, and she wasn’t a scaredy-cat like everyone said, so she went through the branches all the way to the middle. The leaves were soft and cool even in the summer heat, and it was quiet inside.

Abigail didn’t touch the trunk that first time because that would just be wrong. She didn’t know why. It just seemed disrespectful somehow, and Philip would never know anyway because he was too chicken to follow her. He and all the other kids wouldn’t even get five feet from the leaves. But Abigail couldn’t see a reason for that. People went in with wet eyes and the corners of their mouths drooping and came out normal again. That was a good thing, so why would you be afraid?

And sure, Abigail went to the willow most days at lunch, but that wasn’t anybody’s business, like the nurse said. She got good grades, she babysat the Wight boys next door sometimes for shopping money, and she stayed out of any real trouble. She had the willow whenever she needed it, and it was the one thing her parents couldn’t complain about.

Honestly, why wouldn’t someone want to smile? When that weird wet feeling came to the corners of Abigail’s eyes, she always wanted it gone right then and there, and anybody like Mr. Wight who let tears fall in public? Well, everybody said there was something wrong with him. She just felt sorry for his wife and kids.

Jasper Wight didn’t want to even think about the willow. Not no more. He’d told people for years they shouldn’t go, but nobody listened, and he’d given up. He didn’t go, and his wife Cecilia didn’t go, and his kids knew better than to bring it up, but he couldn’t do nothing about the rest of the community.

Sometimes it was tempting. If he was honest, he thought about it for weeks after the mill closed. Working at the convenience store weren’t enough to make ends meet, and Cecilia had to put in extra hours doing hair. The willow probably would have made things easier for a little while, but he stuck to his principles. Sure, a customer didn’t like it now and again when his smile wasn’t very bright (Mrs. Hazel Watson especially didn’t like it, but she weren’t a particularly regular customer), but he was polite and did his job. He had never let his eyes water where people could see him (though he guessed people had noticed some redness now and again because his kids got teased), but the important thing was he was always on time and worked hard. That was why he was assistant manager now.

Jasper didn’t believe you had to smile all the time, you know? There were Bible verses about sorrow and tears, and he figured that was saying something important. He didn’t pretend to know much about theology, but he’d stopped going to Sallowight Christian Church because they took a dim view of those psalms about crying aloud and weeping. Skipped over them entirely! Jasper dared to point out one Sunday that Jesus wept, and that really didn’t sit too well. Reverend Carmichael (as if he deserved that title, but anyway) and Mrs. Hazel Watson told him things were different back when the Lord was on the earth. The reverend kept harping on the comfort part and implied that Jasper was somehow rejecting the comfort of the Lord to not go to the willow. Mrs. Hazel Watson seemed to think all of Jasper’s troubles were his own fault, so he was just making everything worse.

Jasper didn’t think much of Reverend Carmichael. After all, they were kids on the playground together, and he remembered what a brat Philip was back then, and maybe people can change, but Jasper didn’t think he had. The reverend had always had the kind of life where it was easy to smile even without the willow, so he didn’t know what he was talking about.

Jasper didn’t think much of Mrs. Hazel Watson either, but back then Cecilia was doing her hair every few weeks, and he didn’t want his wife to lose a customer on account of him not looking right every Sunday. He’d tried to turn the corners of his mouth up even when they didn’t want to go that way, but then Reverend Carmichael had preached that sermon, and it was the last straw. After that, he didn’t care if the whole congregation saw him frown (and Cecilia declared she didn’t want to do Mrs. Hazel Watson’s permanents anyway). Tears weren’t a curse, no matter what the reverend said, and that was why he and Cecilia had been staying home. They had even talked about moving away, but they’d need to find work and a place to live first. And that weren’t easy.

They still let the kids go to Sunday School because Chrissy Ann was respectful of Jasper’s position on the willow, though her smile always seemed a little too bright to Jasper, which was just more evidence that it weren’t natural. It made Jasper sick to see her walk across town toward that cursed tree. Cecilia worried too, but they both tried to be respectful.

However, he told the reverend to keep his distance from their family or there would be… well, Cecilia didn’t like him thinking that way, and he knew he shouldn’t. Anyway, he’d stopped explaining to people why his mouth looked different. It weren’t anybody else’s business, and the principal had stopped the kids teasing his boys. Once they found somewhere that they could both get work, they’d hightail it as far from that da—beg your pardon, they’d move away from Sallowight, the willow, and the reverend. And since Cecilia had gone to the other room to get some tea, the reverend and Mrs. Hazel Watson could both stuff it as far as Jasper was concerned.

Reverend Carmichael kept hoping Jasper would see reason on the subject of the willow. He’d brought Jasper into his office at the church many a Sunday to discuss his smile slipping, but Jasper had always been stubborn as a mule, kind of like his daddy. All Reverend Carmichael had gotten for his trouble was raised voices in his office and mouths turned down all around the church.

Maybe the Lord would see fit to give Jasper back his smile without the willow. That didn’t seem likely, but then again God had turned water into wine. He could give a smile to someone like Jasper, willow or no willow.

It was just a shame Jasper wouldn’t allow the blessings of the Lord to fall on him through those golden branches, especially since there were so many troubles assailing the town in general and Jasper in particular. Reverend Carmichael tried to explain that the joy of the Lord was the source of strength and it was right there to lay hold of, but it was up to Jasper to take the first step.

It seemed like Jasper spent all his energy on a few specific verses while ignoring all the parts of the Bible about joy and gladness. God’s children were to be filled with joy, no question, and it was a shame that… well, never mind. The sermon that got Jasper so riled up (which was from Isaiah, mind you) was about the Lord God wiping away tears from all faces, and the reproach of His people He would take away from the earth. Reverend Carmichael figured Jasper was angry because he had pointed out that the tears and reproach were part of the same curse for sin. Really that meant Jasper had a problem with the Bible itself, and he wasn’t going to argue. The Lord could argue for him.

The fact was, the willow helped people to keep their joy. If the corners of your mouth turned down, it was unsettling to your neighbors. Unkind even! Downright unkind, especially if it made your neighbor’s mouth turn down, too. This community understood the importance of gladness. Everyone had troubles, that was certain, but bearing them with a smile was your Christian duty. Many in his church lost jobs at the mill or the old post office, but they all came to Sunday service beaming. Chrissy Ann had a terrible cross to bear, but she never let that smile droop. She was a beacon of joy. Even Jasper admitted that.

Privately, Reverend Carmichael felt that it was a little selfish of Chrissy Ann to spend so much time at the willow when others needed it, but the important thing was she was joyful. That’s what his sermon was going to be about this coming Sunday: the joy of the Lord is our strength, and Ezra actually commanded the Israelites not to mourn. Who knows what Jasper would think of that when he heard about it, but he should read the text for himself.

The setting sun gave the reverend’s desk a blood-red glow, and he realized as he put away his commentaries that he didn’t hear the piano in the sanctuary. Chrissy Ann should have arrived for choir practice by now. Reverend Carmichael reckoned he would call and see if Chrissy Ann was feeling poorly. She never missed practice. Not ever.

Chrissy Ann hadn’t meant to miss practice, but she really had to get to the willow. Just had to. She couldn’t stop to explain to anybody because it wasn’t proper to talk with tears streaming down your cheeks. Those tears belonged in the willow, but it had taken too long to pick all the glass out of the carpet under the front window. She had to get every piece, you see? Every single piece, even the slivers. Neil wanted to throw them away, but she just couldn’t. Even though the only letters left intact were Sar, and there was no way to glue it all back together, she just couldn’t throw that candle away.

The tears started coming as she dug the last sliver out of the carpet, and she had to run to the tree, and now here she was, face wet, out of breath, and looking a sight. It was getting late, too. The willow leaves glowed pink in the sunset, and Chrissy Ann thought they looked like rose petals. She’d always liked roses. Neil used to buy them for her when they were courting, but that seemed like a long time ago. He was probably following her right now. She had to hurry.

Chrissy Ann stepped into the willow, shards of glass glinting in her hands. The branches seemed to caress her face and arms and fell shut behind her like the red velvet curtain at the end of the play.

Neil wasn’t about to run to catch up with Chrissy Ann since he knew where she was going. He finished his dinner and walked to the willow like a calm, sane human being instead of running like he’d gone crazy. He reckoned he would sit and wait until she came out, because sometimes she would wander off to Greta’s house instead of coming directly home, and he was sick and tired of that nonsense. No, he wasn’t going in himself, because he didn’t need the willow. He was perfectly fine, thank you kindly. He’d sit a respectful distance on that old rock the kids played on sometimes and wait. He’d played on that stone with Chrissy Ann when they were kids. She’d always liked being close to the willow, but she never went into it back then.

Neil didn’t like to say it, but the ugly truth was Chrissy Ann wasn’t at all like he thought she’d be when they were courting. Her mouth was always turning down, and then the tears started. She never did that when they were kids in school and going to the movies and football games. It was exhausting to have to remind a grown adult to keep her smile, like she didn’t know better. Why didn’t she just take care of her own face?

It was getting chilly out, and Neil was ready to be getting on home. It was always warm in the willow, so of course Chrissy Ann would forget that it would be uncomfortable waiting for her. Seemed like lately she’d gotten disrespectful of other people’s needs. This week she’d been plinking on that piano every spare minute until Neil almost had to go to the willow himself! She might be the church pianist, but did she really need to practice that much?

And then the candle breaking right before dinner set her off. It wasn’t even a candle anymore! Just a blackened glass holder with some wax on the bottom. He hadn’t meant to knock it off the windowsill, but honestly, he was glad it happened because it needed to go. She’d kept it long enough.

How long had he been waiting? Neil was glad he’d thought to bring a flashlight. Maybe Chrissy Ann would see the beam and come out of her own accord instead of his having to holler at her. Those leaves always glistened like gold, and the flashlight beam made them downright sparkle.

Wait, what was that on the ground? Just there, where the leaves touched the yellowing grass. It was probably only a shadow. But then, shadows moved with the light, and that… Hold on. Shadows weren’t wet and red. He’d better check on Chrissy Ann.

She was long gone by the time the doctor came. The reverend came, too. The news crept into every house like fog from the river, and by the time the doctor got a stretcher and something to cover the body, most of Sallowight was crowded around the tree, waiting.

Jasper thought he might throw up as he watched from behind the old pumphouse. Seeing the whole town looking at the willow with those desperate, greedy eyes was just like the last time. Jasper was only ten when his father didn’t come back. Pops didn’t tell anyone where he was going that morning, and no one found him for a whole day. No one thought to call or stop by the house when Pops didn’t show up to work. At least people noticed with Chrissy Ann.

Not that a single person looked at her or paid respects when they brought her out. They were all looking at that tree. You could see it in their dry eyes. Every one of them was wondering how long they had to wait so they wouldn’t get blood on their shoes. He’d like to chop that willow down and burn the pieces. He wanted to destroy it right down to the roots, but he promised Cecilia he wouldn’t do nothing crazy. She had to stay home with the boys, or she would have come, too.

Chrissy Ann meant so much to their boys. She was so kind to Jasper, to Cecilia, to everyone. That’s what he told himself the whole long, cold walk from the house, even though he never wanted to see that tree again as long as he lived. He might be sicker than sin the rest of the week, but he had to come. Chrissy Ann deserved someone to cry for her, and Jasper was the only one in Sallowight who would.

Mrs. Hazel Watson heard the commotion and came out on her back porch (don’t mind the curlers). She couldn’t see much through the crowd even from the back porch, but she suspected she knew what had happened. Then Cools had confirmed it when he passed by on his way home. Such a shame.

Neil would be alright. He never lost his smile no matter what. And they’d bury Chrissy Ann in the Sallowight Cemetery like the others. Reverend Carmichael would see to that. She’d sure miss Chrissy Ann’s piano playing at the church on Sunday. But truth be told, the willow had been looking a little poorly the last few years, and like Mrs. Hazel Watson’s mama used to say, it needed some extra watering now and again.

Tomorrow it would probably perk right up.

***
L.G. McCary has a bachelor’s in psychology, so she knows enough to mess with readers’ heads but not enough to diagnose their problems. Her first novel, That Pale Host, debuted in 2021. She lives in South Carolina with her husband and four children and daydreams about killer snowmen, prairie devils whispering in the wind, and mermaids with shark teeth.

“The Willow” by L.G. McCary. Copyright © 2024 by L.G. McCary.

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