Biting Winds

by Shawna Ireland

  “I can't do this. I feel so much pain in my heart, it's squeezing so hard, and my throat is so tight like my stomach, and I can't eat food even if I wanted to, which I don't. It doesn't even smell good. It smells like a funeral gathering. I hate them for bringing a funeral to my house. Mama said to try to sleep, but when I close my eyes I see pictures of my daddy, and I scream, and Mama and Granny cry again and it's too much to write about because I want to forget it.

  “Mama sent Mrs. Kelly to fetch Dr. Klas, and he gave me a tea to drink. So now I'm sleepy, but I can't sleep. I just laid on the sofa, and tears slid down my face onto the pillow, and snot was coming out of my nose, but I was too tired to wipe it and I didn't care. I just laid there and got snot on Mama's crocheted pillow. She didn't get mad because none of us have any mad left. As of now, I don't know if we have any tears or snot left either.

  “Mama keeps rocking in the chair Daddy carved for her, and reading her Bible, and praying, and swearing too. I don't know if you should swear when you're holding a Bible, but if God knows how much my mama and daddy love each other, and how scared we are that he won't come home like the seven other men, he would understand. I'm sure the other seven wives cursed with the Bible too. How could you not? Mama's making me drink a second cup of this bitter tea, so I better put my journal away for now.

  "Daddy's home! I can't believe it! He's alive. I was sleeping, and I heard Mama scream his name over and over and over, and then Granny started screaming to sweet Jesus. I didn't know if that was good or bad, but I flew to the living room and found Mama and Daddy hugging on the floor, and they were holding each other tighter than the french braid Granny puts in my hair on Sundays for church. I swear, see I did it again, but I swear sometimes I'll feel on top of my head expecting there will be blood drops, it's so tight. But there never is. My legs got so excited that I dropped to my knees too, and covered my mouth and screamed so loud, and I didn't even care that my knees were bleeding.

  “Daddy jumped up and ran to me, and lifted me up like he did when I was three years old. He spun me around and plastered me with kisses and kept crying and calling me his baby. Well, I ain't no baby, but I didn't care because when I went to sleep I asked God to let me feel my daddy's tight hug one more time, and that's what I got. The longest hug my daddy has ever given me in my life. Maybe even longer than all of them put together.

  “Mama had gotten up off the floor and sat by Granny on the couch, and now she was telling Granny that their prayers were answered. Granny was sitting on the couch praising sweet Jesus, which I know is a good thing now, and hugging Mama, and raising her voice to the heavens.

  "Daddy said he spent the entire day cleaning the mess him and the other men made, and when the sun set, Daddy let himself into the house to clean up blood and broken wood and glass. Sangio Danvonne walked right up to him. My daddy dropped to his knees and begged him for forgiveness. We sure do a lot of knee-dropping in this family.

  “He said he confessed everything he did wrong to Mr. Danvonne, to his family, and that he knew forgiveness did not mean redemption. He said Mr. Danvonne, we can't call him Sangio anymore because he is the man of the house now, but Mr. Danvonne had the quietest rage he ever saw, but in the end he forgave my daddy! He forgave him! Can you believe that? I can't imagine ever forgiving anyone for killing my daddy, but he must have known that my daddy was a good man who made a grave mistake, as my daddy put it.

  “Mama just kept saying 'He's a good man. He's a good man.' over and over, meaning Mr. Danvonne. And then Daddy sat between Granny and Mama and shared his hug with us all. Now I'm going to go to sleep, and I don't need any bitter, nasty tea. But first I made Daddy promise not to go out again until I woke up. He promised and said that we were all going to take a nap anyhow."

  It took Stacey a minute to realize that tears were streaming down her face, one after the other, as she felt the horror of little Lisbeth, and also for the ancestors of her employer. She wanted to read more, but felt it was a wiser choice to wash her face in the event that Sangio walked in. She planned to finish the rest of the journal later, in the privacy of her room, with a second cup of tea, and a box of tissues.

  Chapter 28

  It took the better part of the afternoon, and well into the evening before Jessie woke up. She didn't even begin to stir, she just woke up. Beth had just finished washing Jessie and putting her in fresh pajamas. Wondering if Jessie would just sleep through the night, Beth settled down in the chair to knitt a hat she planned to put on Etsy when she returned home, which looked like sooner rather than later.

  Jessie's eyelids were heavy, and it took her several attempts to open them, and several hard blinks to clear the fog from her eyes to see straight. She smelled roses and fresh linen. She looked around at the four-post bed she laid in, and then at the bedroom that was easily the size of her entire apartment. The room was layered in white laces and sheer fabrics. And the roses! Real, fresh cut rose bouquets were on every flat surface that could hold them.

  She laid in a long, white nightgown, made from the softest cotton she had ever felt, with the exception of the sheets that covered her. Everything was white, pastel, and fresh.

  At first, Jessie wondered if she was on her honeymoon, but she was sure Dave took her camping. Or was that a bad dream?

  Dave. She remembered now. The last time she saw him he was about to smash her with a rock, a baby boulder more like it.

  Her heart thudded down to her stomach. She had died. She said so out loud, or at least she tried. Her voice was not exactly cooperating, so she tried to clear her throat and speak again.

  "Did I die?" Jessie heard her own gravelly voice, immediately wincing and holding her dry throat. "Is this heaven?" She sat up, pulled back the blanket and sheet, then stood up, not sure where she was headed.

  Aside from her throat, Jessie was more rested than she could remember, even before starting the nursing program, and definitely before a cup of coffee.

  "Oh my God!" Beth jumped up, startling Jessie back down to a sitting position on the bed. "No, no, no hon. You didn't die. You were sleeping. You're safe."

  "Oh my God!" Stacey duplicated coming out of the bathroom with fresh makeup on, blowing her nose. "I'll go get him!" Jessie watched this tall, blond angel run from the room, and heard her shoes clicking in an open hallway, creating an echo.

  "I'm Beth, hon. I'm one of your nurses. And that blur was Stacey. She went to get Mr. Danvonne for you. Please stay in bed for a minute. You'll probably be weak for a little while. He's going to be so excited. He's been by your bedside almost every minute since you've been here. I kicked him out for your baths, but otherwise, he's been right here waiting for you to wake up!"

  The words raced out of Beth’s mouth so quickly that Jessie's head spun with questions that she couldn't get out. Like for starters, who the hell is Mr. Danvonne?

  Sangio heard the running footsteps and didn't wait for the invitation to arrive. He ran towards the sound, almost colliding with the breathless, beaming nurse who waved him to follow her toward the room, too excited for words, . Sangio sped past her before she could even turn around, so she ended up following him.

  In an instant, there was a heavenly man standing at the foot of the bed, smiling down at her with a striking grin. The same man she dreamed of most of her honeymoon. The man who listened to her, laughed with her and showed her the dancing stars. It was official. She was in heaven.

  "Thank you, God!" Jessie whispered, bringing an amused blush across Sangio's face.

  "I will take that as a compliment, Jessica," Sangio laughed. "But how are you feeling?"

  "I feel great,” Jessie said, crawling onto her knees on the bed, suddenly looking worried. "But why are you here?"

  "This is my home Jessica. Where else would I be?"

  "Aren't I . . . ? Isn't this . . . ? Am I . . . ?" Jessie paused, realizing the ridiculousness of her question, but could fathom no other explanation. "Are we dead?"

  Sangio huffed out a small laugh, unsure ho
w to answer the question honestly, but decided to skirt around the morbidity of at least one involved party. "You are very much alive, Jessica."

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and held her hand in his gloved hand and his eyes went from amused, to somber, knowing hard questions would have to be answered.

  "How did I get here?" was the first question, and pretty easy to answer.

  "I drove us," Sangio informed her.

  "I don't remember," she said, trying to search her brain for any recollection of her missing pieces.

  Sangio looked back at the nurses, and was surprised to see that they had already quietly retreated and closed the bedroom door to give them their privacy.

  Looking back into Jessie's inquisitive face, he explained. "I found you injured in your campsite, Jessica. I brought you here to heal with the help of two of the finest nurses in Santa Barbara."

  Jessie's hands darted to the back of her head, where she first struck the ground, and then brought them to her face, expecting to feel damage. When she felt no injuries she scanned the bedroom for a mirror and ran to it, staring at her perfect and healthy reflection. Even the handful of tiny scars left from her childhood bout of chickenpox were gone. Not a single blemish. Without turning from her reflection, and her hands still holding her face, as if it would not hold itself, she slowly, and quietly asked, "How long have I been here?"

  "This is your fourth night," Sangio responded, knowing it was a matter of time before the harder questions would come, and he would lose Jessie.

  "Why didn't you call an ambulance? Why wasn't I taken to the hospital?"

  "They could not have helped you."

  "Where are my clothes?" Jessie looked down at the cotton nightgown.

  "They are ruined Jessie."

  "I want to see them." Jessie turned to Sangio, with fresh pain in her eyes. "I want to see my clothes."

  "I don't think--"

  "This is not your choice," she corrected him. He reluctantly left the room to retrieve the soiled package.

  When he returned, Jessie was leaning on the dresser, hugging herself, running her hands up and down her arms to calm the anxiety she felt. She took the package from Sangio. A paper grocery bag, with a white trash bag inside of it. Jessie could see dark streaks against the white bag, and she hoped it was mud. She set the paper bag on the dresser, pulling the plastic bag from it, and setting it next to it. She untied the knot one of the nurses secured the top of the bag with, and dumped the dirty, blood-stained outfit on the dresser.

  Jessie dropped her jaw, held her hands to her mouth and took a step back. She inhaled deeply, and stepped forward again, ready to face reality. She picked up her tank top, expecting it to unfold as she shook it out, but the massive amount of dried blood stiffened it like a heavily starched nursing uniform. No, stiffer. Jessie dropped the shirt, taking several swift steps backwards, sitting in a chair with a hard fall. Sangio ran to her, but Jessie held her hand up to him, putting space between them.

  "Stop!" she shouted, noticing that she had dried blood flakes on her hands, and started rubbing them profusely on her nightgown, trying to wipe away both the remnants, as well as the memory that came with them.

  Jessie put her face in her hands and wept. She wept harder, deeper, and with a pain that Sangio could remember freshly from the day he lost his family. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew that wasn't what she wanted. He also wanted to find Dave and finish the job he neglected days ago, but still, it wasn't the right time, and it had to be Jessie's decision.

  Sangio didn't know what his place was with Jessie, his role if he even had one, so he solemnly retreated from the room, giving Jessie the time she asked for.

  Chapter 29

  Jessie woke up the following morning on the bedroom floor, and realized she had cried herself to sleep, moving from the chair, to a fetal position on the thick, comforting rug. Someone placed a pillow under her head and covered her with a quilt that looked as if it belonged in a museum, not on a blubbering woman on the floor.

  Jessie stood up, felt unsteady on her feet, and held on to the bed for stability. She noticed a clean set of clothes on the bed.

  "I figure we are about the same size," Stacey said, popping her head in the door. "You probably don't want to run around here looking like Pollyanna. "

  The memory of clothes spun Jessie back towards the dresser, where she left her old ones.

  "They're gone, Jessie. I burned them as they should have been burned the day you got here. You should see the fire pit, by the way. Perfect place for a glass of wine and a novel."

  "Thank you for doing that." Jessie smiled in appreciation. She headed to the adjoining bathroom, stripping down to shower, and looked at herself in the mirror, remembering the time at camp where she was covered in cuts, scrapes, bruises, and bumps. You would never know it, looking at her standing there. Her skin was flawless. Even the scar she had on her ankle from hopping over the neighbor’s fence for her ball and cutting herself on a piece of metal on her way down was gone. She had that scar for over twenty-five years.

  Jessie rushed through her shower, eager to find Sangio. She had so many questions, and felt badly about the way she pushed him away the night before. He saved her life. How, she didn’t know, but nonetheless she was alive and had him to thank for it.

  Jessie emerged from the bedroom after using the items stocked on the vanity to tame her curls and put makeup on. When she couldn’t find any shoes, she gave herself a mini pedicure, topped off with matching polish on her fingernails. She looked nothing like the woman Sangio had carried in just five days ago.

  She walked around a bit, hoping to find Sangio. She did not want to intrude by opening any of the many doors. She found Stacey in the kitchen, and suddenly realized she was starving. Per Stacey’s instructions, Jessie nibbled on bland wheat toast and sipped a piping hot cup of double french roast coffee, despite the urge to raid the refrigerator and cupboards for something with sustenance.

  “Do you know where I can find Sangio?” Jessie asked.

  “He went into town with Beth this morning. Actually, it’s the first time he’s left the house since you got here,” Stacey divulged.

  “Can I ask you a silly question?” Jessie hesitated. "When I got here, my clothes, I mean, did you or Sangio? Who--"

  Stacey interrupted, noticing that Jessie was stumbling over her words, and to save her further embarrassment.

  “If you are asking if Mr. Danvonne saw you naked, the answer is no. In all seriousness, that man sat by your side for hours upon hours every day. I swear, the only time he left was when Beth or I kicked him out to give you a bed bath, or to change your bedding, or dress your--” Stacey caught herself in mid-sentence, realizing that she was instructed not to give information regarding Jessie’s condition when she arrived. Jessie frowned at her as if to tell her she wasn’t born yesterday, so Stacey finished. “ . . . your wounds. Anyway, my point is that he was a complete gentleman. Oh, and it wasn’t a stupid question. I was in a car accident years ago, and I knew all the local ambulance drivers, nurses, and hospital workers, being a nurse in a small town. Anyhow, I woke up in the hospital in a gown, and the first thing out of my mouth was to ask who stripped me. I was more worried about that than my arm being in a cast.”

  Relief flooded Jessie’s face in the form of blood rushing to her cheeks as she laughed at herself. She cleared her dishes from the table, and as she rinsed her plate, she looked out of the window and saw that she was on a vineyard, and it stretched for miles in front of her. She didn’t let the fact that she didn’t have shoes deter her from exploring the outdoors. She stepped out of the front doors and took several deep and appreciative breaths. She began her trek down the tall, curved staircase and headed towards the vineyards. When she arrived she walked from row, to row, to row, mesmerized by the beauty and uniqueness of each different bunch: size, color, tightness of the cluster, curl of leaves, and the veins of color shooting through each leaf weaving a different web.

  When Jes
sie turned back towards the house, she saw for the first time that Sangio had brought her to a mansion. She new it looked huge inside, but she never imagined it was a mansion with peaked roofs and different wings. Man, did she have questions.

  Jessie went back into the mansion and asked Stacey to point her to a living room where she could catch up on the news while she waited for Sangio to get back from town.

  “No TVs,” Stacey informed her, but with mischief in her eyes, and a skip in her voice she beckoned Jessie to follow her. “Something even better, follow me. You have to see this!” After a distant walk down a long corridor Stacey pulled open two large, heavy doors leading into a room filled to the brim with books, books, and more books. And where there weren’t books, there were sofas and high-back leather chairs with footstools to sit and read.

  If you didn’t want to read, the room had an antique chess set on dark amber boxwood. The pieces were heavy, complex, and graceful. Upon a closer inspection of the board, Jessie saw it was dated 1855, and was signed by Jacques of London. For crying out loud, Sangio owned an Heirloom Staunton chess set. She didn’t even know an original still existed. Her father begged her mother for a replica for years, and the replica cost over a grand. They weren’t poor growing up, but a grand for a chess set was out of their price range, and he settled for a 1930’s hand-carved wood and bone set from an antique shop. She couldn’t begin to imagine the value of this game.

  The shelves reached the ceiling, which was at least twenty-five feet tall, and they were stuffed with books Jessie didn’t think she could wedge a book back in once it was taken out, not that it mattered because the floor was littered so beautifully with stacks of books as high as her waist.

  “Jesus!” The word sprang from her mouth as she spun around looking at the books that were possibly as old as the mansion.

  “I know. I said the same exact thing.” Stacey continued, “And if you head out these doors across from here you will be outside. Go to the end of the path between the two wings and you will see a rose garden that will make you weep. Ok, I’m exaggerating on the weeping part, but it’s beautiful, and there are plenty of seats to watch the birds in the birdbaths or read a book,” she said fanning her hands around the room at the many choices.