Cross Creek Page #6

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for I believed that I couldn't be

a wife and a writer.

My relationship with Charles

had proved that to me.

I chose to isolate myself,

and I used my work as a refuge.

[Typing]

[Car approaching]

[Typing]

Max?

Max Perkins?

What in the world are you doing here?

Oh! Ha!

Oh, uh, something

to prod the muses with.

Thank you.

Well, Mr. Baskin here

was kind enough

to offer me a lift.

He suggested that I come out right away.

I'm sure he did.

I hope I'm not intruding.

No.

I'm just... Surprised to see you.

I've just been on a visit

with Ernest in Key West,

and I just dropped by

to see how you were.

Well, you couldn't call,

because she doesn't have a phone.

You already have

an open bottle, Marjorie.

Max drinks only the best.

Well, we can start on that one

and then finish yours up later on.

Ah.

Mmm.

You haven't written

to me lately, Marjorie.

I don't think my writing interests you.

I-I'll get some glasses.

[Door opens and closes]

Bit chilly.

Your last letter didn't go down so well.

Oh, dear, not another Gothic, hmm?

So what is it this time, Marjorie?

Another governess packed off to Wales,

destitute and filled with foreboding?

You've made it clear

that you don't like my Gothics, Max.

Correct.

I've often wondered why you bother

wasting your precious time

on such an untalented novelist.

I had hoped that anyone who is

as desperate to write as you were,

will eventually...

Damn it, Max Perkins, you're a coward!

You didn't dare tell me the truth.

Well, I must admit,

I did stop.

You can be most formidable, Marjorie.

You let me believe I had talent.

You may be one of the most

talented writers

I've had the pleasure of working with.

I have here some of your finest work...

your letters.

The letters I kept looking forward to.

And not because

I missed your good company,

but because when you write

about your life here,

that's when your writing's

at its best, Marjorie.

My sense told that some time ago.

Thank you.

[Dishes clanging]

Marjorie, he'll like it.

It's a good story.

You never did even get to the end.

You never gave me the chance.

[Door opens]

[Footsteps]

Smells good.

Cooking is Marjorie's one vanity.

Max.

Thank you, Marjorie.

I know that...

I gave it to you too soon.

It wasn't ready for you to read yet.

Well, dear,

I liked it,

and I'm gonna publish it.

Does $700 seem fair to you?

Yes.

Yes, Mr. Perkins,

that sounds fine to me.

Miss Rawlings!

Miss Ra... Miss Rawlings!

You have to help me! Flag escaped.

[Panting]

[Squealing]

Go home, Marjorie.

- Marsh...

- Go home, please.

I feel responsible for this.

No, it's this girl

that has to be responsible now,

not you.

Darling...

We had ourselves a bargain.

Now, you gotta do what's right.

Darling, listen to me.

A family can't starve

over the love of an animal.

Now take it.

I ain't doin' it, Bubba.

You can't make me.

Take it.

[Gasps] Bubba, please, no!

Bubba, no!

Stop it, Bubba!

No, please, I promise!

I'll mend the fence,

and I'll grow some new crops.

Please, Bubba!

I'll make it up to you. Bubba, please!

Listen to me!

Please, Bubba!

Bubba, please! Please!

Bubba! [Sobs]

Stop him!

Ellie...

He'll listen to you!

I can't stop him.

He hates Flag, he always has.

That's my deer and

he ain't right to do that.

[Gunshot]

Bubba, no!

[Ellie panting]

Go back to the house now!

Go back to the house!

I hate you! I hate you so much!

Fight me, I hate you! Fight me!

I hate you so much!

Fight me! Fight me!

Aah! Fight me! I hate you!

I'll always hate you!

[Sobbing]

[Indistinct chatter]

Man:
Not bad.

[Horse nickers]

[Ball on pool table clacking]

[Indistinct chatter]

Ahh.

[Indistinct chatter]

[Horse nickers]

Man:
Uh-oh!

[Laughter]

[All yelling]

[Horse neighs]

[Yelling continues]

Man:
Marsh!

Marsh!

Marsh:
Ellie!

[Horse neighs]

Ellie!

Hey, Ellie!

[Horse neighs]

Hey, Ellie?

Hey, Ellie?

She'll come home.

Don't make no difference.

It'll never be the same again.

Ah.

Marsh?

It's me, the Sheriff.

How you doin', Jake?

Put down that gun.

You want it? It's yours.

[Gunshot]

Marjorie:
The Sheriff shot,

and Marsh fell.

And it was the end

of glamour at Cross Creek.

And the only person who knows,

who understands that when Marsh Turner

spoke to the Sheriff,

it was without menace.

I'm sure he was offering the Sheriff

the offending gun,

exactly as he once offered me

his trespassing hogs.

Ellie...

You don't belong here.

I wish you never came to Cross Creek.

You're not one of us.

Why don't you take your stories

and leave us be?

Cross Creek ain't for you.

[Boat engine humming]

Marjorie:
I left the creek.

I left the grove.

Suddenly.

And with nothing.

[Engine starts]

Geechee:
Miss!

Miss Rawlings!

[Laughing]

[Sobbing]

[Whistle blowing]

We'll beat it.

I worked all year

on nursing those oranges.

I ain't gonna let a freeze have them.

Don't you worry.

Hang in there.

Ask him what's to be done.

Come on up in here.

Come here.

Come on, y'all.

Take on off.

I should have come sooner.

Good friends shouldn't keep apart.

[Brakes squealing]

[Sighs]

And that little Mary

was keeping up with us,

just sloshing through the mud.

One time, she was right here

and there was her shoes

about 10 feet back, stuck in the mud.

[Knocking on door]

Would you like a cup of coffee?

That'd hit the spot, thank you.

I want to thank you for your help.

I just happened to be

passing through the neighborhood.

At 5:
30 in the morning?

At 5:
30 in the morning.

I heard you was doin' poorly.

Yeah?

Hmm. Pining away for an old Beau.

I'm doing extremely well.

So I see.

Listen, would you like...

Yes.

Get married?

Just like I figured.

You certainly are sure of yourself.

You didn't miss me at all?

Not a bit, Mr. Baskin.

Not a bit.

Marjorie:
I had become

a part of Cross Creek.

I was more than a writer.

I was a wife, a friend,

a part of the earth.

Who owns Cross Creek?

The earth may be farmed, not bought.

May be used, not owned.

It gives itself in response

to love and tenderness,

offers its seasonal

flowering and fruiting.

Cross Creek belongs

to the wind and the rain,

to the sun and seasons,

to the cosmic secrecy of seed...

And beyond all, to time.

Manual corrected, resynched,

spell checked by H@w-to-kiLL.

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