“Good Reverend, Preacher Justice,” Mother said, her voice composed but strained, “if I may be so bold to ask, pray, tell us what ways and means you plan to employ to rid us of our suffering?”
“The Lord may mean your suffering to be lived and not relieved.” Calvin Justice softened his opinion with a kind tone and appeared to contemplate his words while stroking his dark beard. The Reverend looked to him and scratched at his own sparse stubble.
“I believe you mean to say this suffering must be understood for it to be relieved.” The Reverend spoke nervously, looking to my father, who sat silent in the corner. Calvin Justice was about to say something else but Mother interrupted.
“Let us focus our humble powers of intelligence on that one purpose. Let us work together to solve this mystery. I request you read of Paul at Corinth.”
“Of course! The perfect text!” The Reverend Johnston pulled his Bible close and nodded to my Mother with respect, impressed by her gracious manner. “Please, you begin,” he looked to Calvin Justice.
“God that made the world and all things therein …” Calvin Justice raised his hands to the ceiling while the rest of us bowed our heads. This was a popular section of Scripture and when I recognized it, tears, absent all the evening, arrived in my eyes. “Neither be He worshipped with men’s hands, as though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life and breath and all things …” I listened and cried silently until Mother’s voice joined the Reverend’s and Preacher Justice’s, reciting the last line, “… For in Him we live, and move, and have our Being. Amen.” I felt a momentary warmth shoot through me, as if a genuine healing was occurring in my soul, brought on by the words of the Lord. Yet, even as I encouraged the good feeling of filling with Spirit, I tried to grasp it too deeply, and in that moment the feeling slipped away.
the mysterious spirit speaks
The next day was my thirteenth birthday and again I pleaded with Mother to allow me a day at school. Against her better judgment, she relented but made me promise to be most cautious. Jesse and Martha departed our home as my brothers and I left for the schoolhouse. I hugged Martha tight and told her I hoped they would return soon to stay with us again. The weather was gray, for a spring rain had fallen at dawn and a wet green mist hung about the path. Drewry, Richard, Joel and I breathed deeply of it, relieved to be walking away from our house.
“Sister, how will you tell it at school?” Richard walked beside me, his leather satchel bouncing on his back.
“I will speak the truth of the matter,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, rebalancing my bag.
“What is the truth of the matter?” Drewry kicked a stone and Joel ran ahead, chasing it.
“What do you believe?” I wished to hear his thoughts, for he was frowning, his expression limp as the bent grass.
“I know not, but likely the truth will be discovered.”
We reached the hazel thicket and were forced into a single line. At once, from every side, a thick barrage of thin twigs, wet with the rain, fell down on us. I held my satchel before my face and ran, tripping over the hem of my new yellow dress. It caught on a branch and tore about the bottom as I fell. Scrambling to get up again I ground my knees into the wet red mud under the grass and dark stains spread across my skirt. The sticks pummeled my cheeks and hands.
“Hurry, sister, away!” Drewry grasped my arm and we ran together to the bridge Richard and Joel had already reached. Out of the thicket the torture ceased and I stopped with Drewry beside me. We turned to look back at the path littered with sticks.
“Of this I shall say we were attacked by flying wood!” My heart was beating much too quickly, and I recalled Mother’s warnings and concern for my safety. “How would you describe it, brother?” I was out of breath and more upset over the soiled state of my dress than the scratches I had received from the twigs, but I tried to make light of it.
“Perhaps it was a birthday greeting for you, Betsy,” Drewry joked. He removed a twig from the top of my braid and we managed two short laughs, but they flowed uneasily from our throats.
“Perhaps it was just the wind,” Joel called, running back to fetch us, anxious to get to school. “Carry on, carry on!” He played as though he were the overseer in the field and Drewry and I both gave real laughs to see him so resilient. Across the bridge we saw a recess was in progress in the schoolyard.
“Look, there they are!” Thenny spotted our little group and everyone immediately stopped their games and came running to greet us. I looked for Josh Gardner, but he was not present.
“How are you, Betsy Bell?”
“I am well and pleased to see you all, and today I am thirteen.” I curtsied my greeting.
“What has happened at your home?” everyone asked at once.
“Tell us! Yes, please, tell!”
“There have been many rumors,” Becky said, looking at Vernon Batts as she spoke.
“And perhaps some rumors are the truth.” Vernon was quick with a retort to her unspoken accusation. “How often do we see Miss Betsy Bell arriving late in the day in a mud-streaked dress? No doubt her demons now accost her in the woods!” Clearly Old Kate had spoken of us in her home.
“I stumbled in the thicket!” I cried, feeling a sudden reluctance to tell the truth, regretting having shared that it was my special day. “At our home, it is as the Reverend said on Sunday, better not to speak of it, but pray it would soon be gone, so we might join our goodly peers in studies and games.” I saw Professor Powell about to ring the bell outside the door and I waved to him, noticing he clanged the iron triangle with exuberance. All turned, mumbling, thinking later I would tell them more, but I thought, later, I would not.
We entered the schoolhouse and took our seats on the benches and I withdrew my slate from my satchel. Professor Powell stood behind his large oak desk waiting for our attention.
“Before our mathematics lesson I should like to announce the prize for best composition.” He shuffled some papers in his hands. Thenny had the seat beside me and she sat up straighter, expecting it would be awarded to her.
“The best composition was penned by Miss Mary Batts for her essay, ‘From Sheep to Cloak.’” There was an audible gasp from Thenny, and Mary Batts was the picture of surprise as she rose to receive the blue satin ribbon.
“Thank you, Mary, for your excellent work,” the professor smiled. “If any of you girls have questions regarding warps and cards, just ask Miss Mary.”
“I expect she has to win with her family so pitiful,” Thenny whispered in my ear and I knew why she was so mean-spirited about it, for I had seen Ephraim Polk give Mary an enthusiastic smile. Thenny had no great liking for Mary Batts because she liked Ephraim, who was known to visit the Batts house on the pretense of talking with Vernon, whom nobody really liked, but clearly, he went to catch a glimpse of Mary. It was no wonder Thenny narrowed her eyes and fell into a sulk. I realized she coveted honors more than I did, but I tried not to think any worse of her for it. I had much else on my mind.
Professor Powell began to read out numbers for the mathematics lesson and I exchanged a glance with Drewry, who sat to my left and up a row. I knew he would not talk about our trials if I did not. I had not planned to be so restrained but once I had begun that way, I could not see how to tell the truth of the matter. I began to feel quite sorry for myself, as it was my birthday and I had chosen to come to school and I was not enjoying it. I wished Josh Gardner was present. I could not concentrate on the lesson and I was grateful Professor Powell did not address me with any questions for I was truly elsewhere in my mind. I drew a vine down the side of my slate and decorated it with leaves when I was meant to be doing sums. At the close of the day we were dismissed from our lessons and a small group gathered again around me and my brothers in the schoolyard.
“Will you come back, Miss Betsy, or be too tormented by your demons to suffer instruction?” Vernon Batts stood with his legs wide apart and I thought perhaps I should tell him he ought to have his mot
her stitch him a new pair of trousers, for the ones he wore were much too tight and short.
“What do you know about it, Vernon?” Drewry asked, challenging his insolence toward me.
“I’ve heard it said demons dance on the roof of your Betsy’s room.”
“Have you also heard of the man in the moon? No demons have been seen by anyone at our home so keep yourself quiet regarding what you know not.” Drewry stepped forward and took my arm. He was taller and stronger than Vernon and if it came to blows, I was certain Drew would be victorious. Though his mouth was large, Vernon was a coward at heart.
“So tell us, what is the matter of which the Reverend speaks?” he asked, persistent.
“Go on, tell, Betsy.” Thenny popped up beside me, encouraging me to answer these inquiries.
“We must not speak of it …” I shrugged my shoulders, implying I was obedient to a wish not my own.
“Recognize this is the truth.” Drewry took another menacing step toward Vernon. “Our father has commanded our silence, but on the day when we may speak freely of our disturbance, you best hold your ears onto your head for whatever you imagine, it is much more than that.” Drewry reminded me of Calvin Justice for a moment, so inflamed was his tongue.
“May that day be soon,” Vernon spoke this last to our backs, as we departed.
“Sister,” Joel tugged at my hand demanding I keep him amused as we crossed the bridge and prepared to enter the hazel thicket. “Mother will set a special table for your special day. What treats are you predicting?”
“The first strawberries and Chloe’s sugar cream.” I could already taste them on my tongue. I took a deep breath of woody thicket and I was not surprised when abruptly the sticks began to rain on us again, only much fewer in number, and this time they did not strike us with much force, but landed mostly just ahead in the path.
“Stop, sister, we must investigate.” Drewry pulled at the hedge with his fingers, looking as if he wished he had brought his gun to school.
“Drewry, it is obvious no person, animal or wind is the culprit here.” I wished to make haste to our supper and I strode ahead. Richard plucked a stick from the ground and, removing his knife from his pocket, he notched the wood, making a game of the harassment.
“Take this, demon!” He threw it back into the hedge growth and I thought it a sign of our real progress we were able to laugh, a few paces farther on, when the same stick was returned to him, striking him lightly on his behind.
“So how was your day at school, dear children?” Mother poured tea from the china pot at our celebration, inquiring after us.
“Uneventful, apart from many new lessons.” Drewry and I exchanged a glance, having agreed we should not worry Mother with the curiosities of our peers, or the sticks in the hedge.
“Sister, I have a birthday treat for you.” John Jr. stood up from his place at the table and left the room, returning shortly with his wooden flute. He played a lively tune and I did feel grateful for his effort and tried to tap my feet. The notes fluttered in my ears and I was overcome with emotion. Bitter disappointment regarding my day at school, combined with my birthday, and my overall exhaustion, gave rise to an uncomfortable sorrow in my soul. I tried to listen to the lilting tune but nothing seemed purely good to me. Even John Jr.’s sweet song was fleeting and momentary, while the tortures of the night loomed ahead, certain and frightening. What good was it to be a growing young woman when torture and suffering was my future? Tears spilled from the sides of my eyes.
“There, there, Miss Betsy.” Mother came to me and held my head against her breast so the rough linen of her smock tickled my ear. “ ’Tis a day to give thanks to the Lord for your incarnation. You are growing up a lovely girl.”
“ ’Tis true.” Father came around the table and patted my back and I did feel warmed by the two of them standing either side of me. John Jr. allowed the last note of his song to roll off his tongue, and as he took the instrument from his lips we heard a knock on the door. I expected the Reverend, arriving to sit vigil with us, but instead it was the Thorns, with Thenny.
“Good evening to you, we hope we are not imposing.”
“Come in, come in, you must share our tea,” Mother said, inviting them to join us.
“No, please, we have come with an invitation to extend, for your Betsy to spend the evening at our home, and if it is your pleasure, we will collect her now.” Mr. Thorn removed his hat but held it in his hands.
“How kind of you.” Mother looked uncertainly to Father, then to me, assessing how she should respond. Mr. Thorn cleared his throat as if he was unsure he wished to speak.
“We thought perhaps your dreaded affliction might not follow her elsewhere,” he said, admitting his reasoning. Mrs. Thorn nodded her head, nervous with concern and agreement.
“ ’Tis a thought we have not tested.” Father squeezed my shoulder giving a pragmatic response.
“Please, Betsy, please, say you will.” Thenny was excited and hopped from one foot to the other, awaiting my reply. To see her did make me smile.
“May I, Mother?” Was it possible the evil might stay away from our home if I was not in residence?
“Well, all right, if you desire it so. How say you, Jack?” Mother tucked a stray piece of hair from my braid behind my ear with affection.
“John Jr. shall fetch her in the morning,” Father replied and I was pleased to hear him give his permission. I raced upstairs with Thenny to pack my nightdress and fresh stockings.
No sooner were the covers pulled about us and Mrs. Thorn withdrawn from Thenny’s room than Thenny did start in with all her questions.
“Tell me everything. You must.” She sat up on her elbow and her dark brown eyes glistened with the light of the single candle by our bed.
“It is difficult to speak of …” I lay on my back looking sideways at her eager face. It felt odd to be in a home other than my own.
“But you must, I will tell no one, and swear to it.” Thenny waited, putting her hand on her heart, knowing her exuberant will could pull bats from a cave in the daytime. I sighed, giving in with some relief.
“Tell no one, as ’tis Father’s wish we should be circumspect, despite the Reverend’s exhortations.” I propped the pillow further up behind my head and turned to her, relating much of my tortures and experiences with many details. I kept my feelings and conversations with my family members to myself, but the violent actions were enough to absorb Thenny. She listened with attention, stopping my monologue only to express sympathy and anger toward all I had suffered, though I sensed she was greatly enjoying the plotted nature of my recent days. I was exhausted at the close of telling it, but Thenny was infused with energy.
“Betsy, a witch must be the source of your bad troubles.”
“The Reverend believes it is a supernatural force.”
“Think, did you but once give Old Kate Batts a brass pin of your own? I hear say she can curse the one whose pin she has.” I felt irritated, for if Thenny could hear my story and believe it came down to a pin in Kate Batts’s hand, obviously she had not understood the extent of my torment.
“I wear my braid only down my back, not on my head.” I could not remember Kate Batts ever begging a pin from me.
“But you have pins, for special do’s. Perhaps you did lend her one. Or perhaps your mother lent her one, without your knowledge.” Thenny seemed to feel sleep had eluded me for so many nights I could not be trusted to know what I had or had not done. “Old Kate Batts might be a witch and you and I not know it,” she surmised.
“ ’Tis worse than a witch’s conjuring at our house.” Though I felt no liking for Old Kate, I doubted she possessed the know-how to create such violence as was ours.
“We know not the ways of the witch.” Thenny’s eyes grew unfocused and I saw she was picturing all manner of possibilities.
“I know no reason for Kate Batts to suffer our family any trials. My mother is her friend and neighbor.” I discouraged Thenny, gro
wing further annoyed that I had not conveyed the immensity of our malignant manifestation, for if I had, she would not insist Old Kate could be responsible. I looked at her, suddenly recalling her sour expression when Mary Batts won the prize in composition, and it occurred to me perhaps she was making her suspicions up for her own ends.
“This is why I say so …” Thenny tapped my arm with impatience in a hurry to explain her reasoning, and I was anxious to hear it, for I did not wish to think she would accuse Old Kate of witchcraft simply because the boy she liked favored Old Kate’s daughter.
“Two months previous, I went with my mother to the store. There was still muddy snow on the ground and I waited in the carriage while Mother went inside. I heard voices and around the side of the porch I saw your father and Old Kate, involved in an exchange of words. She was talking of her boundaries and your father answered something about his land, but I could not make out any more. It ended when he tipped his hat and turned his back on her. She shouted after him, ‘I’ll remember this, Jack Bell, and you will be the worse for it.’” Thenny shook her finger, imitating Old Kate brilliantly. “I heard her say so plain, Betsy!” She gripped my arm, as if she could squeeze a proper response from me, but I did not know what to say. I’d heard Father complain Old Kate was a jealous landowner, but I was unaware of any specific incident between them. I recalled her standing arms akimbo at our porch, suggesting I be dosed with her demon potion, and I felt sick to my stomach. I knew if I told Thenny of it she would call for Old Kate’s lynching. I thought of Mother and decided I should wait and see regarding Mrs. Batts.
“Thenny, I have yet to tell you of another thing entirely!” The subject of my becoming a woman was enough to distract her for a few moments. It had not happened yet to her and she wished to know all about it. We heard Mrs. Thorn’s footsteps in the hall, and she entered the room.
“Say your prayers, dear girls, for it is time to rest.”
All That Lives Page 10