Stone Field

by Christy Lenzi

  Lord, Lord, Lord. I’ve never wanted to strike Effie as much as I do right now. She’s not just talking about how I’ve never been good at being around other people; she’s talking about how I can’t abide being around those people. Our neighbors in Roubidoux who all saw me kill Mother at the molasses make.

  I kick the boot hard and it goes flying across the attic and hits the wall. “Well, you can have the whole damn lot. I don’t need any of them.” My face burns hot as fever. “And if I want to leave with Stonefield, we’ll go whenever the Hell we please. I’m not afraid to be with the one I love!”

  Effie flinches. Her eyes fill with a fire I’ve never seen before. But she doesn’t shout or storm away. She presses her lips tight together and touches her locket the way Lu did, holding it between her fingers as she glares at me. She takes slow, deep breaths until the fire subsides and she is calm again. She nods. Her eyes and her voice soften just a little. “I know, Catrina. I don’t want us to be harsh with each other.” She takes my hand. “I do hope that you’ll come to the party. For my sake.”

  I try to keep my arm stiff because I’m right about not needing other people and she’s wrong and I want her to know it, but I can’t because she’s too warm for me to stay frozen all the way. My rightness starts to melt into hers and I can’t tell the difference anymore.

  She squeezes my hand until it’s not a fist. “You’re the only one who knows how I feel about Henry. I know how hard this is for you, Catrina, but I’m always doing things for you—can’t you do this for me?”

  Her words fall heavy on me, tilting me. And I’m like a book sliding off a windowsill with the pages flying open. Both halves of my heart—the half that knows what I want and the half that knows what is right—slip to the floor and the little parts break loose. They’re all mixed up, and I can’t figure out where they belong.

  * * *

  As we ride to the party in the back of Mr. Lenox’s wagon, Lu goes on and on about Dora and Henry and how they make a sweet couple and won’t they look fine on their wedding day, and all the most mush-minded things I ever heard. Effie sits up straight and tall, staring off into the valley as if Lu’s words are light as feathers and she can’t feel them. But I know she does. Lord. I’d like to thump Lu’s head. I imagine it’d make a dull, hollow sound, like thumping a watermelon.

  I lean back against the side of the wagon, longing for a pipe to smoke. It’s dusk. The in-between time is my favorite part of the day, when the world hovers betwixt the light and the dark. The bats and fireflies wake up, frogs and crickets start singing together, and the trees melt into one jagged, sawtooth line against the purple sky. I wish I could linger here forever inside this hazy in-between.

  We cross Wolf Creek onto the Hosses’ property, and I shut my eyes. I take a deep breath and let it out slow like I’m blowing smoke rings. They make me think of Stonefield. I conjure up the image of him smiling at me, his eyes crinkling in the corners, his teeth perfect white stones set all in a row. I keep a tight hold on the memory, but Stonefield’s smile starts slipping away as we head up the steep road on Hoss Hill.

  People’s laughter and the happy sound of a banjo ring out from the hilltop. I shouldn’t have come. I grope for the remnants of Stonefield’s image, but everything’s clouded over. The wagon crests the top of the hill. Bright light pours out all the windows of the house, but I can’t feel it. My darkness is coming to get me. Feels like I’m headed backward in time, to the blackest moment of all, when my mother died.

  We were making molasses, and all the folks along Roubidoux Creek and in the hills gathered to the farm to help bring in the cane from the field and cook up the sugar juice with us like we do every year. Henry hooked up the mule to the sorghum press and put me in charge of it. He said all I had to do was keep the mule going round and round it while Mother fed sorghum stalks into the press, and I was to mind that no one got knocked in the head by the bar as it went by.

  It was a long day, and I was mad that I was stuck in one place with a tiresome task. Even after all the other young people had finished cutting the cane and were just gossiping and flirting under the crab apple trees, I had to stay put. After a while, I took up Henry’s gun and started aiming at the rabbits hopping around in the bare cane field. Shooting a dozen would have been easy as pie. I took a bead on one, and without thinking, I pulled the trigger. The old mule startled at the gunshot and took off when Mother wasn’t ready. She was standing up from the press when the bar came around full speed.

  I saw her fall and ran to her, but she was already dead by the time I got there.

  The wagon stops in front of the Hoss place.

  The world’s slipping from its foundations, pressing down and smothering me. I grip the side of the wagon. How can I bear all their eyes on me again? I can’t go inside that house. All those voices, all those people. It will take me straight back to when they rushed over after Mother fell and crowded around so thick and loud I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. How many of them did I strike before I broke free? Everything turned so dark, I can’t remember. And now I’m supposed to just walk inside and join them like nothing happened.

  Gentle fingers pry my hands from the side of the wagon. I open my eyes slow. Effie peers at me, studying my face like I’m a drawing in one of her books. She’s expecting me to get out, but my arms and legs are nailed to the wagon; my head’s full of rocks.

  “Catrina, let’s go inside.”

  Lu and Mr. Lenox have already walked to the porch. The front door opens for them and yellow light and laughter trickle out. I climb out of the wagon. Effie winds her arm in mine and steps forward, taking me with her. “We can stay near the back of the room and talk with Jane Dillard if you want. She asks about you all the time.”

  I like Jane—she’s kind and talks about interesting things—but she was at the molasses make that day, too, and saw what I did. We’re almost to the door.

  “Catrina, I know this is hard for you, coming here. I just want you to know I appreciate you being by my side because—” She glances at the door. “It’s hard for me to be here tonight, too.”

  I gaze toward the ridge that overlooks our sorghum field, wishing I could see Stonefield’s circle design from where I’m standing. A whippoorwill cries in the distance. I can hardly bear to enter the house, but Effie needs me.

  I nod and open the door.

  Walking into the house is like climbing out of a dark cave into the midday sun. I just stand there blinking for a moment, dazed. Lu’s already laughing and clapping her hands to the music and Effie’s glancing around the room for Jane.

  Dora Hoss’s twangy voice rings out above the rest. “Well broom me out! Look who’s here.”

  Before I can get my bearings, Dora comes sweeping past Effie as if she’s not even there and clamps hold of my sleeve like a crawdad. “Cat!”

  My whole body turns stiff as the dead. Cat was Mother’s name for me. Only Papa and Henry call me that now.

  Dora’s breathless. Her pasty cheeks have turned into red candy apples. Her polka dot dress with the long bell sleeves looks like it’s two sizes too tight. Lord. She better not eat a single slice of custard pie or her corset might bust loose and her brooch might go flying off and put someone’s eye out.

  She glances at my men’s pants and boots. “Didn’t you have time to change out of your work clothes? What a shame!” Her laugh sounds like a squealing piglet. “But I’m glad you came.”

  “I’m not.”

  Dora laughs like it’s a joke. “You’re always so funny, Cat.”

  She’s too close. I can barely breathe. “Don’t—” I step backward toward the door, but Lu’s in the way. “Don’t call me that.”

  Dora’s lips purse up and she glances around.

  Oh Hell. I need air. I need to get free. I reach out for Effie, but Dora has wedged herself between us till she’s pushed Effie outside of her little huddle, and now I’m stuck between Dora and Lu.

  Dora lowers her voice. “Why must you rui
n everything, Catrina Dickinson? I was right. You are witchy.”

  A lump swells in my throat and I can hardly swallow. It’s not true. I push the darkness down so I can find something to say to her that isn’t cold and sharp, but I can’t find anything good or proper inside me. Maybe they’re right—maybe there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know how to be with other people. I can’t even be a good friend to Effie when she needs me. When God made me, He must have left out an important part that’s meant to be connected to everyone else.

  Effie parts the wall Dora has made and moves to my side. I grope for her arm and pull her close.

  She steps forward, strong and sure. “Hello, Dora. You look well.” Effie’s warm hand steadies me. “We’re so happy for you and Henry.” She plucks the sweet words and gives them to Dora as easy as picking wildflowers, even though it must be killing her.

  Dora’s face turns smug, like she’s been waiting for this moment all her life. “Why, thank you, Effie. Henry and I are happy as larks, like it was always meant to be. And to think he was pining for me all these years, working up the nerve to declare his love!”

  Lord.

  “Henry’s already asked Preacher Preston to perform the ceremony next month before Henry enlists! Everything’s been such a glorious whirlwind—”

  “Where’s my father?”

  Dora frowns at me for interrupting.

  The music stops, and I look around the room. I hope that wasn’t Papa playing the harmonica.

  Lu’s dark eyes are bright. “Yes, where is he?”

  Effie squeezes my elbow. “Let’s go look for him.”

  But Dora grabs my arm and scowls at Effie. “Oh no, you don’t steal my soon-to-be sister-in-law from me as soon as she gets here, you dark little thief! Who do you think you are, girl?” She turns to me and laughs as if we’re sharing a joke. “Effie, go along and find Mr. Dickinson for Cat.”

  Effie lifts her chin, and I think she’s going to refuse, but then she tells me in a quiet voice, “I’m going to look for your father. I’ll be right back.” She turns, walking away into the crowd of laughing people. I fling Dora’s hand from my arm and start after Effie, but Dora grabs me back.

  Lu squints at me. “I want to see your Devil man. Why did he make that awful sign in your field, Catrina? And how could your papa take in such a peculiar stranger?”

  I clench my fists at my sides and force myself to swallow the words stinging my tongue.

  Dora joins in. “I hear his skin is brown as the dirt—is he Indian? Nobody would make such a wicked-looking sign in a field for no reason. And if it’s from the Devil, well!”

  Lu nods. She glances at my top button and her eyes sharpen. “Heavens! Is that a yellowthroat’s feather?”

  Dora gasps.

  I touch Stonefield’s tiny gift.

  Lu’s eyes are round as saucers. Her voice turns shrill. “Everybody knows yellowthroats are witches’ birds.”

  “Broom me out!” Dora shakes her head, still looking at the feather. “I’m concerned for you, Cat. After all, we’re going to be sisters. Your brother expects me to help guide you in the right direction, and I can see now the reason for his concern.”

  My breath’s coming too fast. “Where’s Papa?” The music starts again, ringing in my ears. I think it’s Papa playing the harmonica, but the room’s too crowded to see him. He shouldn’t be playing. It’s too hard on him—he said so himself. The house feels like it’s tipping from the weight of all the people.

  Lu keeps talking like I’m not there. “Dora, you have your work cut out for you, helping Catrina—you should have heard what she said about that Devil man. She said she can hear his voice just like a demon in her head, telling her what to say and what to do—”

  “My granny says to get rid of a witch’s spell, you need to get yourself some mistletoe at midnight and open your Bible without looking. Read the first verse you see seven times, tuck the mistletoe in, and sleep with the Bible under your pillow.” Dora glances at me. “I’d bet you’ve never read a word of the Bible.” She pats my wrist. “But don’t worry, Cat—as soon as we’re sisters, I can help change that.”

  Dora’s too close. Her voice makes my head ache. I can smell the cider on her breath and the sweat of too many bodies in the room.

  “You’d lose that bet.” I edge away from her.

  Dora folds her arms across her chest and turns to Lu. “Granny says a witch can’t touch the Bible without it feeling like a swarm of bees.”

  “That’s bull.” And I’ve read heaps more of the Bible than Dora has and some parts more than once, but I don’t waste my words on her. I push away from Dora and Lu to find Effie. I can’t breathe.

  “Papa?” I move toward the sound of the harmonica, but as soon as I break through the crowd I see it’s not him, after all. Lord, everything’s topsy-turvy. Dancers brush against me as they twirl and clap. Laughter bursts in my ears. People’s eyes widen when they see me. Is it because they’re remembering that day at the molasses make?

  I turn away from their eyes. This is how drowning must feel. I can’t hold myself up much longer. I wish Stonefield were here. I call to him in my silent voice, Stonefield, where are you?

  “Catrina. I was looking for you.”

  But the heavy hand on my shoulder isn’t Stonefield’s, it’s Henry’s.

  “Henry.” I’m surprised at how relieved I am to see him. I lean against him for support. I feel so dizzy.

  “Are you all right, Cat?” He takes my shoulders gentle, like he’s afraid of hurting me.

  I cling to his solid, familiar frame and breathe in the smell of his clean homespun shirt. “I—I was looking for Papa. I was afraid he was playing the harmonica.”

  Henry lets me rest my head on his chest for a moment, and I can hear his heart beating under his ribs. I think about how it’s the same heart he’s always had, the same heart that beat before the accident, back when he loved me more.

  He pushes me away a little bit so he can look me in the eyes. He lowers his voice. “Cat, I wanted to tell you first, about me and Dora, but things are happening so fast. The war’s practically on our doorstep and I can’t just sit here idle. I want to make sure you and Father are taken care of before I—”

  He frowns at my shirt and pants. “I thought the Lenox girls might help you get fixed up nice. It’s been a long time since people had a chance to visit with you, and this is a special occasion.”

  I want to plead with Henry to hold me like he did a moment ago, just until I can clear my head. But at that moment, a young man I’ve never seen before joins us at Henry’s side.

  Henry stands up straighter and smiles at the man. “Reverend Preston! I’d like you to meet my sister, Catrina.”

  Reverend Preston looks barely older than me, but he already has a neatly trimmed beard of white and yellow gold. His eyes are sky colored and his pale blond hair’s the soft wild down of a thistle—his looks are at odds with his stern outfit, a pressed black suit, starched white shirt, and a tightly knotted black ribbon tie.

  He clasps my hands in his like I’m his long-lost friend.

  I nod. “How do you do.” I try to pull away, but he presses tighter.

  “Miss Dickinson.” His drawl is warm and strong, like apple cider mixed with Kentucky bourbon. His voice is full of some kind of power—the kind that must have made Andrew and Peter drop their nets and follow Jesus. “Miss Dickinson, the moment your name fell from Miss Effie Lenox’s lips, God’s own Holy Spirit spoke to me concerning you.”

  I want to pull away, but a question jumps out of my mouth. “What did He say?”

  “He told me there are wondrous things in store for you.”

  “Why didn’t He tell me?”

  “I’m His messenger. Sometimes people can’t hear His words until they’re spoken by another.” He pulls my hands closer to his chest. A sweet, cloying smell hangs about him from the sprig of lavender he wears in his buttonhole. He lowers his voice. “God’s Spirit is speaking to
me right this moment, Miss Catrina. He says you are in the midst of spiritual turmoil—caught betwixt the light and the dark.”

  The words jolt me from the inside. I yank my hands away. Hell. God had no right to tell a stranger such things. God’s a worse gossip than Lu.

  Preacher Preston’s hands stay open in front of him. He looks as if he’s waiting for God to drop a new set of ten commandments into his arms. His smooth, lilting words seem to roll off his tongue and melt into the air. “The Spirit bids me say, ‘Take care,’ Miss Catrina. ‘Satan disguises himself as a beautiful angel of light. Be not deceived by his brightness.’”

  The preacher’s eyes are blue as forget-me-nots and look at me so earnest that I nod. But the nod’s a lie because I’d give a thousand heaps of treasure just to see a beautiful angel of light in my darkness right this second, even if it was Satan.

  Reverend Preston starts to say more, but Lu appears at his side and takes hold of his sleeve. She giggles, even though nothing’s funny.

  “Oh, Reverend Preston, my friends are just dying to meet you!” She pulls on his sleeve to turn him away, and I take my chance and step back from the preacher to search for Papa. Before I can get free, Henry takes hold of my arm.

  “Where are you going, Cat? You should stay and visit more with Reverend Preston and the young ladies. After all, you’re part of their circle now that Dora will become your sister-in-law next month.” He smiles down at me as if he’s done me a great favor by getting engaged.

  “Why are you marrying Dora?” I know my question will make him mad, but I don’t care.

  Henry glances around to see if anyone is listening. “Cat, I should have mentioned it to you earlier, that’s true, but sometimes these sorts of things are hard to explai—”

  “And you should have told me you were enlisting. Or is that one of those things that’s hard to explain, too?”

  Henry takes a deep breath. “Most matters of importance are hard to explain to you, Cat. Sometimes it seems like you don’t even want to try to understand what’s going on around you—all you want to do is run away to the woods or that cave where you never have to deal with other people or what’s happening in the real world.”