Ceremonies

by T E. D Klein

  She felt a tiny urge to needle him, for there was something about his enthusiasm that irritated her – the same smug faith in good fortune, perhaps, which she occasionally recognized in herself. Or perhaps it was just that he seemed so blithely prepared to leave her.

  'And what will you do out there,' she asked, 'if you get sick of ghost stories?'

  'Oh, that shouldn't be a problem,' he said. 'I'm pretty good at keeping myself busy. One thing's for sure, I'm not going to spend the summer sitting on my ass. I'm going to get myself in shape, maybe even do a little jogging. Establish a routine and stick to it. Bran and yogurt at breakfast, dental floss at night, shoes on the shoe trees before going to bed… '

  She noticed with some amusement that, as he spoke, he was swinging his arms more forcefully and holding his head up straighter.

  'And in the evening,' he said, 'who knows? I might try to teach myself astronomy. That's something you can't do in the city – stargazing. I'm bringing out a book with all the maps. It'll be nice to learn what's actually up there.'

  The two of them looked upward as they passed along the block, but by now the city sky was almost starless. The moon had vanished behind the buildings to the west; they saw it shining low over the cross streets and the vacant lots.

  'If things get too boring,' he added, 'I suppose I can always get a lift into Gilead. What there is of it, anyway.' He shrugged. 'And, of course, if worst comes to worst, I can always try bird-watching, I hear that's fun, or go for walks in the woods. In fact – now, don't laugh! – I'm bringing out a whole slew of those little illustrated field guides. I mean, let's face it, I don't know a hell of a lot about campcraft – I'm like the guy in the joke: the last time I tried rubbing two sticks together was in a Chinese restaurant – but there are quite a few things I'd really like to learn: like mushroom hunting, and animal tracks, and the names of some of the flowers. Round-lobed hepatica, Dutchman's-breeches' – the names rolled off his tongue -'bachelor's button, touch-me-not… '

  She nudged him with her elbow. 'You sound just like the nature counselor at B.C.Y. C'

  'Oh, yeah?' He stopped and faced her. 'And what, pray tell, is B.C.Y.C.?'

  'Beaver County Youth Camp.'

  His mouth opened in a incredulous grin. 'Beaver County? Is that where you're from?'

  'Uh-huh!' She burst into giggles.

  He laughed, too, with something like relief. 'The girl from Beaver County… What a find!'It was as if a wall between them had been broken. They leaned against one another, rocking with laughter. 'And what a great title for a film! We'll get-'

  Suddenly he caught his breath. She felt him stiffen.

  'Jesus! How does that guy keep up with us?' He squinted into the darkness. 'I've never seen a cripple move so fast.'

  She turned and looked, but the sidewalk behind them was empty, the streets hushed but for the wail of a distant police siren, rising and falling, rising and falling, like a hungry baby screaming unheeded in the night.

  The time of idleness was drawing to an end. Away from the others, near the rosebushes at the side of the house, the Poroths lay drowsily in the long grass and the shadows from the kitchen light, resting beside one another. They were alone here but for a trio of their cats, two stretched in sleep between them, another curled purring on Deborah's stomach. With the murmur of voices so distant and the bonfire out of sight behind the house, Sarr felt sorely tempted to roll over and hold her in his arms – they were used to making love among the animals, outdoors as well as in – but he forced the desire from his mind. Not for another full day; not until the planting was complete. Sunday, though, was going to be special. Sunday after services…

  'Just a few more hours of this, Lord be praised,' he said. 'But I can't say as I look forward to tomorrow night, with just the two of us.

  I'll bet we end up working straight through to Sunday morning.'

  Deborah made a sympathetic noise. 'I sure hope I don't doze off again in the middle of the sermon. They've never let me forget it!'

  'Don't worry,' he said sharply, 'I'll make sure you stay awake. But as soon as we come back here, I'm going to sleep for the rest of the day. And you're going to be right there beside me, naked as Old Mother Eve; so that when I get up-'

  'Oh, no, I'm not, honey. And neither are you.' She reached over and ran her fingers through the dark hair on his chin. 'Don't you remember? We've got a visitor coming on Sunday.'

  Sarr made a face in the darkness. 'I forgot all about him.' With a sigh he sat up, dislodging a cat about to seat itself on his chest. 'Well, at least it'll bring in some money. Lord knows we can use it.' He turned and looked across the lawn at the outbuilding, a squat black form against the night sky.

  'We'll have to get the place fixed up tomorrow,' said Deborah, as if reading his thoughts. 'Put up the screens and get the ivy off those windows. And I don't intend doing it all myself.'

  He grunted noncommittally.

  'We'd best do it early,' she went on. 'We'll have more planting at night, and Sunday'll be too late. 'Twould be awful if he came out here with all his goods, took another look at the place, then turned around and went home.' She paused, speculating. 'I sure hope he doesn't mind a few bugs.'

  He got to his knees and began brushing the dirt from his pants. 'Well,' he said, 'you never know about those city people.' Yawning, he stood and sniffed the air; the wind was blowing off the marsh, but he could smell the fragrance of the freshly planted field, the moist soil and vegetation. 'All right, woman!' He prodded her gently with his toe. 'High time we got back to the others.'

  'Sure wouldn't want old Joram to squawk!'

  'No, wouldn't want that.' He smiled in spite of himself, but then felt a surge of anger. How dare she talk that way? And how dare he let her? Troubled, he turned from her to stare into the distance. As always, the view calmed him. He was simply going to have to make her understand. But not now, not on such a night…

  There was a faint glow in the eastern sky, past the outbuilding and the woods. The wind was blowing from behind him and went hissing through the tops of the trees; they nodded together as if sharing a secret. As a boy, on nights like this, he'd used to pretend that, if he stood on tiptoe, he could see truck depots, railroad yards, and glimmering lights – the lights of New York City, not fifty miles away.

  Rejoining the others gathered around the cottonwood fire, they savored the last quiet moments before their return to the field. Here and there a knife blade rose and fell in the ruddy light as the younger men sat sharpening the ends of their staffs. Two acres had already been planted; before they departed tonight they'd have completed two more. A fifth would still remain, but after dark tomorrow Poroth and his wife could see to that themselves. "Twill keep 'em out of mischief on a Saturday night,' joked one of the men. 'We'll see 'em stagger into worship next morning with corn seed in their hair!'

  Poroth made no answer. He was crouched in the shadow of the table and, as tradition demanded, was busy binding last year's garland to the top of the staff. The dried husks and withered ears dangled from the wood like talismans atop a spear.

  Some of the more flirtatious wives stood near the men but talked among themselves, flaunting their long, unfettered hair. As a rule it was worn pinned up in a severe and deliberately unbecoming style, to be let down only at bedtime before one's own husband. During the yearly planting, however, this rule was relaxed.

  'Like a pack of spoony schoolgirls!' came a low, laconic voice from the darkness. ' "Father, turn away mine eyes from beholdin' vanity." '

  Deborah's youthful figure broke away from the others. 'Why, Rupert Lindt, is that all you can say after staring at us half the night?' She took another step forward and, with a toss of her head, struck a mock-seductive pose. 'You better go back and read the second half of the book: "If a woman have long hair, 'tis a glory to her." '

  From the darkness came the man's embarrassed laugh and an automatic chorus of amen's. The one called Joram frowned and looked away. Among the Brethren it was consi
dered unseemly for a woman to speak to a man other than her husband, and they took an equally dim view of those who quoted scripture back and forth in argument; for a people so conversant with the Bible it was far too easy to do. 'Sarr,' he said at last, turning to the younger man, 'you've come back to us like a prodigal son, and we rejoice in it – just as we rejoice in the wife you've brought back. The Holy Spirit's in her, we all know it is, but there's still much she'll have to be taught. 'Tisn't a night for jests. "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." I think you know the rest.'

  'I do,' said the other, aware of the correct response. ' "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Don't worry, Brother Joram. I'll teach her to weep.'

  Beside him came a muttered 'Amen.'

  From the west a breeze gathered, carrying the scent of marsh water and rotting pine; it ruffled their beards and stirred the rosebushes at the side of the house. The night was cooler now, and the work sweat had dried on their bodies. They turned to face the fire, the men in their vests, the women in long dresses. Bats flitted through the darkness above them like the shadows of small birds; moths clustered around the dancing flames where the old men stood talking. Across the lawn bustling shapes moved to and fro in the light of the kitchen. The screen door opened, and a line of older women emerged from the house bearing small metal lanterns to help with the clean-up. The door slammed shut. Low in the sky the half-moon seemed close enough to touch, God's oppressive thumbnail poised just above their heads.

  Joram stood. 'Up, brothers, sisters,' he called softly, striding toward the fields. 'We've sore travail before us.' Passing the knot of children, he bent and addressed the smallest of them, all but dwarfed by the bag of seed. 'Now mark you don't let varmints eat a single one,' he warned. "Twould be bad portent!' With his face turned away from the firelight it was impossible to tell if he was smiling.

  Soundlessly the others followed. The time of rest was over.

  By now the tables had been cleared of the last scraps of food and of the cloth that had covered them. A lantern had been placed upon the one in the center, and in its beam a younger woman stood folding up the bridge table, her hair knotted back like that of the elders in the kitchen. Moving past the tables, Poroth set down his staff and approached her.

  'I want to thank you, Cousin Minna,' he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'It was good of you to come tonight. I only wish you could've been out there with the rest of us.'

  The other nodded gravely. Above the glowing lantern, her homely face looked prematurely aged. 'Piet wouldn't have wanted me to stay home and mope. You know how he loved a night like this, with all the folks gettin' together underneath the stars. I can feel his spirit with me right this very minute, standin' by my side. It's with me all the time, these days. I expect you feel it too.'

  'I do,' said Poroth – and in a way he did. Or maybe it was just a passing breeze. 'I swear he's almost close enough to touch.'

  Hearing a faint movement behind him, he turned half eagerly to look and found himself facing his mother. She was carrying one of the empty brown jugs back to the kitchen.

  'Here,' he said, 'let me help you with that.' He took it from her and started toward the house, expecting she would walk beside him. But moments later, looking back, he saw that she hadn't moved. She was standing perfectly still, as if the shores of some vast and invisible ocean were stretched before her feet, and she was watching him with an expression which, in the dim light, he found difficult to read.

  'You go on,' she said. 'Your Aunt Lise is in there washing up.'

  'I know she is,' he said, puzzled. 'So are all the rest. Aren't you coming?'

  She shook her head. 'I've got to be getting along. It's later than I thought.' Poroth heard a certain weariness in her voice. He was about to return to her side, but she stepped away from him and held up her hand. 'No, don't worry about me. Ain't nothing more I can do to help around here. You'd best be getting back to the field. The others'll be out there by now.'

  'I don't plan to keep them waiting,' he said. 'But first I'd like to hear just how you think you're going to get home.'

  She shrugged. 'The Lord gave me two good legs, and I'm not too old to use them.'

  Somehow he had known that that was what she'd say. There was really no arguing with her, once her mind was made up, though he felt it his duty to try. 'Mother, with all its turns that road's a good six miles long, and it's at least another mile to your house. That's quite a ways to walk.'

  'You don't have to tell me how long it is,' she said. 'I've been down that road before.'

  'That was during the day. This time you'll be walking in the dark.'

  'You know what they say. Tis only dark for them that will not see.' She began moving away.

  'I don't understand,' he said. 'What's all this hurry for? You came with Aunt Lise, and now she'll be expecting to take you home. Or if you don't mind waiting a spell, you can go with Amos Reid. He and Rachel brought their car tonight. So did lots of others.'

  She shook her head again, looking vaguely troubled. No, not troubled, exactly. It was something about her eyes, a kind of resignation. 'I haven't time to wait,' she said almost mournfully. 'The night's got me thinking, somehow, thinking about what's coming and what's past, and how there's something I should be doing that I'm not. I just can't seem to shake it, the thought of what's ahead… ' She muttered something under her breath.

  The young man strained to hear what she had whispered; it had sounded like 'the Voolas.' He had never seen her quite so bad before. 'Now just hold on a minute,' he said. 'You've gone and got yourself in a state. And there's no cause to, not tonight. Tonight's a time for rejoicing. After all, just look at me!' He threw wide his arms. 'Here I am, all set up now, back where I belong. On our own land.'

  'Don't go talking foolishness, son. The land ain't ours. You know very well that Andy Baber owned this place, and so did Andy's father, and his father before him.'

  He scowled. 'Well, it was ours a hundred years ago – which means that we came first. That's the whole reason I bought this farm. I figured you'd be pleased, seeing as how your people were the ones who built it.'

  'They weren't my people. It's a big family, you know that. They were just another branch.'

  'They were Troets.'

  She nodded bitterly. 'And you remember what happened to them?'

  He felt a chill pass over his shoulders. Why had she brought that up? Was she trying to spoil this night for him?

  But she had already begun to apologize. 'Don't pay me no mind,' she was saying. 'I'm just a useless old woman. Fact is, it's done me good, seeing you here in this house of your own, the seeds in the earth, the bread on the table. The night's been blessed, so far, and

  I'm sure the crops'll do just fine. I just wish there was something I could do for you and Deborah, but… ' She paused, as if remembering. 'But now it seems it's later than I thought.'

  With a brief dismissive wave she turned and moved off across the lawn, passing between the outbuildings and the farmhouse, heading toward the road. For a moment, walking through the squares of light spread on the grass beneath the kitchen windows, her figure seemed to grow larger and, somehow, almost fierce; then she'd passed beyond them, becoming once again as dim and insubstantial as a wraith on some forlorn moonlit errand. Circling around the side of the house, she slipped into its shadow and was gone.

  He remained standing there, watching for her to reappear among the trees that lined the road, but after a minute or two he turned away. Setting the jug back near the foot of the table, he stooped to retrieve his staff and walked bemusedly toward the fields to join the other men. The night was indeed turning out to be a blessed one; his mother's private sorrows were already forgotten. At long last she had mentioned Deborah by name – surely that meant something! – and the crops, she'd said, would do just fine.

  He felt like singing.

  Behind him, past the fire, the young
er women had replenished the sacks they'd carried at their sides, leaving the huge burlap seed bag only a quarter full. Huddled nearby, their features drawn and fatigued, the children sat watching intently for every kernel spilled-but no more intently than the four remaining cats, who crouched unseen in the shadows beyond the ring of stones, eyes aglow like coals.

  As the women shouldered their now-heavy sacks and trudged slowly back to the fields, the smallest of the children dipped his hand into the bag and brought up a streaming fistful of seeds. Wagging a finger in solemn imitation of his elders, he admonished the corn in a grave whisper:

  'Mark thee, mind thee,

  Gillycorn Hill… '

  Stooping amid the plowed furrows, the women took up the chant and repeated the same traditional warning:

  If Crow don't find thee,

  Mouse he will.'

  As they straightened up, one of them groaned and rubbed her stomach. The woman beside her smiled. 'What ails you, sister? Too much cottonbread?'

  The other nodded. 'That star was big as a barn door, and I think I ate half of it! Don't know why they call it cottonbread – it's heavy as a stone.'

  Deborah paused to push back a lock of hair. 'My husband knows all about that sort of thing,' she said, 'but he seems to want to keep it to himself.'

  The moon was settling into the treetops. They peered ahead into the gloom, where the seven men were a row of moving shadows. 'That was stone-ground white flint cornmeal' Poroth was saying. 'I had to send all the way to Tipton for it. The man who sold it to me – a blackhat from the Barrens – said it'd been milled by waterpower.'

  One of the others shook his head. 'Probably charged you double for it!'