All That Lives

by Melissa Sanders-Self

  “Thank you!” I could not have been more grateful, for Richard’s life spared and all of ours. My heart raced with confusion, for all had happened more quickly than I could conceive it. Beneath the fast beating in my chest, I felt the real power of the Spirit, as it demonstrated sway in matters of life and death. I wondered, why did it curse us one day and spare us from natural disaster on the next? The dark part of my heart supposed we were perpetuated as play toys for the Being. If we were gone, who would it torture?

  “You are not so evil today, mysterious Spirit!” Drewry called into the air, and seeing his face full of relief gave me cause to think more positively on the subject. Drewry smiled at Richard, muddy, but in one piece, alive. That the Being was capable of great acts of kindness was a thought I struggled to apprehend. The lightning bolt that caused the tree to fall had left a putrid sizzle and stink in the air and the smoke filled my eyes, choking my throat, as we struggled through the wind and hot rain toward home.

  That night at dinner we told the story of our rescue to Father and John Jr., while Mother heard it for the second time.

  “We’ll have to fetch Polk’s giant tree saw,” was Father’s only remark on the subject.

  I suppose you would prefer I let the little darlings die?

  The Spirit joined us with this caustic insult to my Father, who threw his spoon down on the table, and stopped eating, though Chloe had served his favorite mint and summer squash soup.

  Why do you not praise me, Jack Bell? It is you who are evil, ignoring me, day after day.

  The Spirit took a coy feminine tone with Father and he did not much like it. Without speaking, he withdrew from the table and I heard him pass through the parlor, removing his flask from his desk, retiring early into his bedroom.

  “Pray, we will be eternally grateful for the good deed you have done for us today.” Mother soothed the Spirit and we heard it sigh, contented.

  “Drewry, did you pass your brother Jesse on the road this morning?” Mother’s query was an abrupt change of subject. I knew Jesse had traveled to Springfield to ascertain the price Father’s tobacco would bring in the coming harvest, but I did not know Mother was worrying over his welfare, as the journey was not a difficult one and Jesse often made it.

  What, Luce? Are you concerned for Jesse?

  “Yes, for he has never liked a storm,” Mother answered affirmatively, smoothing her dress on her lap. I saw she still fretted over her firstborn, though he was a man on his own.

  Wait just a moment and I will see where he is at.

  There was silence in the room except for Joel slurping the last of his soup from his bowl.

  Your Jess is safe at home. He sits at his pinewood table discussing with his good wife, Martha, the positive results of his journey.

  “I must thank you again, gentle Being, for you have set my mind at rest on the subject.” Mother rose, smiling, turning to my brother. “Come, Richard, let us sit a spell on the porch together. There is still light and the rain has ceased.”

  I went to the parlor to pick up the mending I was working on before joining them outside. Joel had busted the seams of his linen summer trousers and I was adding a new strip of cloth in the crotch. Mother had Richard on her lap when I came out, and they were rocking in her hickory chair.

  “Were you very frightened, love?” She spoke softly into his wavy brown locks, shining from the oil treatments.

  “Yes, Mother. I never shall play near a whirlpool, never, ever.” Richard’s bare toes, cleansed of the red mud by the bath Mother had given him before dinner, reached the floor, yet he rested his head on Mother’s shoulder, and rubbed his cheek against her. It made my heart crack like the split-open elm, to see him, such a big boy, and so solemn.

  The air had cooled slightly, and showery drops of water fell from the round pears weighting nearly every branch of the tall trees in front of the house. The smell of the rain was delicious, sweet, green and delicate, and the wind had turned to refreshing breezes. A blue jay preened his feathers at the well and gave a shrill cry that startled me. I accidentally pricked my finger with my sewing needle and, though it bled, I did not cry out.

  my brothers depart

  The next morning Jesse came round to see us and after divulging his good news of high markets in Springfield, at which we all rejoiced, he set his hat ceremoniously on the table and gave this report.

  “Yesterday, shortly upon my return, I was set at the table talking with Martha, when the wind blew open our door.” Jesse paused to be certain all of us gathered at the breakfast table were listening. “This was after the storm had passed. All of a sudden, the wood beneath my hands began to shake so violently I suspected an earthquake, or I knew not what. I was quick to my feet, and taking Martha by the arm, we ran outside, only to find nothing moving, not even a wind in the leaves. In truth, it was unnaturally still in our yard, and at once I recognized it was that evil menace that haunts this family, come nattering at us. I know it to be so, for finding the natural world in order, we returned into the house, very much disturbed, and on the table lay a pile of stones which certainly were not there moments previous.” Jesse did not need to convince us of the Being’s capabilities, but no one interrupted him to say so, for clearly he was not finished. He took a sharp breath in.

  “The time has come when we must be rid of this affliction. Martha and I will make our way to South Carolina, as others before us have done.” Mother locked her knuckles tight together on the tabletop and was about to speak, but Jesse nervously continued. “Think on my life here! When I travel to our church or store, I must along the road pass Old Kate’s stall—Get your Bell Witch amulets! She uses our good name! Mine and my father’s good name, in the hope strangers passing through our district will pay to fend off the demon that accosts us.” Jesse looked to Father, who did not meet his gaze but clearly understood. I felt the pinch of a louse biting at my scalp and I too clearly understood my brother’s emotions.

  “Dear Jesse, I hesitate to confess I was the cause of yesterday’s discomfort, for I did wonder aloud regarding your welfare after the storm.” Mother reached across the table to take Jesse’s hands in hers, to quell his thought of leaving.

  “No, Mother, you are not the cause of my misery.” Jesse pulled his hands from under hers and banged his fist down, raising his voice. “I seek only a life unmarred by stones across the tabletop!” A silence fell on all of us, contemplating his declaration. I wanted suddenly to tell him how the Spirit had saved Richard’s life, but he spoke again. “I shall escape this torment. I wish to journey where the weather is warmer and where the Indian corn increases with no effort, so little pains will subsist a large family. I wish to go where the grounds are low and a great variety of mast is said to thrive.” It was clear Jesse had thought carefully, creating his plan, all the while saying nothing to us. He tried to soften the blow it was for Mother to hear the news. “I cannot stay here, Mother,” he took up her hand regretfully, “for my heart is weak as a rocky ridge, so wretchedly poor it could not grow potatoes.”

  “Jesse, you need not grow potatoes with your heart.” Mother patted his hand in hers and frowned. “You have land a plenty here and Father has offered to help you in tobacco, and what of Martha?” She turned to her daughter-in-law. “Martha, what say you of this plan?” Mother expected Martha to object wherein Mother promised with her eyes to support her, but Martha sighed and looked to Jesse.

  “It will be as Jesse wills, for I have put my faith in him,” she said, sliding her hand under her husband’s. “But surely, I will miss you all!” Martha’s acceptance was the clearest indicator my eldest brother was quite serious regarding his imminent departure from the district. Mother let her head drop into her own arms on the table, and began to cry.

  “Jesse, Jesse, how can you leave us? How do you know the Spirit will not follow you wherever you may go?”

  I will not.

  The Spirit broke gently into the discussion, and I realized it must have been present all the whi
le.

  “Damn you, evil menace!” Jesse cursed it loudly, looking up.

  “Please, speak unto this boy, promise you will trouble him no more!” Mother pleaded with the Being, beside herself with frustration.

  Luce, Luce, how I hate to see you unhappy, but in this, your desire will not be fulfilled. Your Jesse will do well in black-eyed peas. His wife will rise out of bed early, while he lies and snores until the sun has risen one third of its course, and dispersed all the unwholesome damps, and even with this tendency to laziness, his crops will prosper and the fruit of his loins will multiply.

  The mention of her future grandchildren stopped Mother’s tears. It was as if their ghosts danced happily around the table on some future summer day, and we all absorbed the Spirit’s prediction of my brother’s life, seeming a likely and accurate one, for Jesse had always liked to lie in bed in the morning.

  “Will you return, to visit?” Mother reached again across the tabletop, covering Jesse’s hands with hers.

  “We are not leaving this moment, Mother. It will take some time to set our affairs in order,” Jesse reassured her. He was a grown man. He did not need their permission, he had only intended to inform them. Slowly he withdrew his hand and patted Mother’s, a half smile on his lips.

  “What say you, Father?” He turned to Father, who had been silent all the while.

  “I have the names of kinsmen for you, Jesse.” Father nodded, but I saw Jesse’s decision irritated him. I wondered if he was jealous his eldest son might actually escape the torment Father himself must continue to endure. The good news of the markets was heavily shadowed by the sadness that fell over us all, as we contemplated the prospect of no more Jesse and Martha chattering on our Sunday ride to church. No more girlish talk over sewing. I wished heartily the Spirit would go away rather than my brother, but I knew it mattered not what I wished.

  The September morning after Jesse and Martha departed, our lice infestation ceased. From one day to the next, we were freed from the pestilence. Our first Sunday back amongst the congregation, the Reverend Johnston and Calvin Justice came to our home after the service for the Sunday meal, and the Reverend wasted no time inside the door before complimenting Mother for her gracious invitation.

  “We have suffered, lacking your good company through so much of the summer season.”

  “And we have missed you also, dear Reverend. We are at last redeemed from our scourge here on this farm, and yet, another worldly inconvenience now assails us.” Mother took Calvin Justice’s topcoat from him.

  “Pray, what can it be?” the Reverend inquired, hanging his own coat on the hallway peg. I watched him from where I sat in the parlor, sewing the new gray linsey-woolsey trousers Mother and I were making for John Jr.

  “We have had some news.” Mother bade the men to take their seats. I nodded to them but did not rise, for I was on the crucial final knot of a trouser leg. I held the needle up as my excuse, and the golden evening sun from the parlor window flashed over it, sending a spark of light into the room.

  “Miss Betsy,” the Reverend nodded to me and settled in Mother’s chair, while Calvin Justice sat on the other side of the hearth. “What news?”

  “We have had a message regarding a share in an estate I hold in North Carolina.” Father cleared his hoarse throat and entered the parlor with John Jr., each of them carrying a straight-back chair from the dining table. Father did not go to his desk for his flask, but set himself beside Calvin Justice to further explain.

  “Affairs in this estate are coming to a close and I must send a representative.” The Reverend and Calvin Justice listened intently, and I believe they wondered if Father was seeking volunteers, for they both looked troubled. “John Jr. will depart in the morning and we seek your wise advice and counsel for him, on this, his farewell evening.”

  “Goodness, Jack.” The Reverend’s round face was surprised, but I thought I saw a shade of relief in his frown. “Must he travel over the Great Smoky Mountains, with the winter on its way?”

  “ ’Tis hardly winter yet, Reverend, but yes, he must cross the mountains. We are planning his route across Newfound Gap, and from there he may rest at beautiful Lake Lure.” Father clapped a hand down on John Jr.’s knee, to reassure him, speaking of the journey ahead.

  “I hear bandits line the road along the French Brood River. He ought to stay his horse from there.” Calvin Justice leaned forward and clasped his hands together, squeezing his knuckles, sparing the details. “However, there is a wayfarer’s house of excellent report just this side of Cullowhee.”

  “Were it not Cullowhee where the Injuns retreated?” The Reverend Johnston turned to him with surprise.

  “It was, but there are none left living there, and a pleasant station exists in that place today. You have my word on it, for I rested there myself on my journey from the Methodist seminary.”

  “In that desolate mountain territory, thieves and other anti-religious men are known to prowl.” The Reverend shook his head with worry, but Mother adopted a positive attitude.

  “Be not overly concerned, dear Reverend, not every non-believer is a dangerous man.” I thought of Frank Miles and his good soul, as the man who proved her statement absolutely. I knew Mother was unhappy, as I was, that Father was sending John Jr. off to North Carolina, but she was making the best of it. I tied the final knots in the thread most reluctantly. Since Jesse and Martha had departed, I found I missed them much more than I’d expected and losing John Jr. felt unbearable. Who would be next?

  Your John should stay at home where he will be useful. This journey will prove futile, as the estate is not yet settled and cannot be settled for some time to come.

  The Spirit offered its own view of the situation.

  “Go from here!” Father shouted, standing, his face noticeably red with anger. “Return to Hell, where you belong!” The fury of his voice caused everyone to tense and sit up straighter. No one wished to provoke the Being into violent tortures on the night before John Jr.’s departure. We were all surprised to hear the Spirit laughing its retort.

  You know nothing, old Jack. If John Jr. leaves this house tomorrow he will have a hard trip without reward. The sky will throw fire and storm after storm will deluge the roadways until his finest horse sinks to its knees in mud. He will grow ill from lack of nourishment and cry bitter tears. All for nothing, for when he reaches his destination, he will discover several months must pass until the money will be available to him. Good son that he is to you, he will trouble himself greatly with the persons there, and stay long in torturous expectation of an outcome other than this truth I here predict, yet when he returns, John Jr. will be empty-handed and so much the worse for wear.

  This picture was bleak indeed and I shuddered as the images so accurately described filled my mind. I was nearly overcome by the urge to cry out and throw myself across John Jr.’s feet to beg him, please, listen to this vision of the future, but the Spirit spoke before I could, in a greatly softened tone.

  Soon to this farm will come a young lady from Virginia, wealthy and in possession of charms more plentiful and sweet than the blooms on Luce’s roses. Her slaves are numerous and her family is outstanding, of old money. She will please you, John Jr., unlike any other in this lifetime, and if you stay at home, you will certainly win her heart.

  I believe John Jr. was affected, as I saw him glance at Father, suddenly uncertain. For my own part, I thought I saw the beautiful girl appear in the wavering flame of the candle Mother was lighting. The sun had gone from the parlor window, and the yellow flame flared up the wick, revealing a young woman with a soft expression of love on her face.

  “Seek not to deceive, you Devil, for it shall be your undoing.” Father’s voice was determined. “John Jr. shall not adhere to fantasies from a manifestation evil as you are. Leave my house. Leave the decisions of God-fearing men apart from your concerns.” His timbre was full of effort yet restrained, and I wondered if he was suffering the pains of his throat.
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  The Spirit laughed again, sounding like the creak of a wagon wheel stuck in the mud.

  They that hate the righteous shall be desolate.

  “How could a Being such as yourself be considered righteous?” Father was outraged and sat heavily in his chair, looking toward his desk. I believe he wished he had his silver flask in hand.

  I am righteous. And everlasting.

  The Spirit departed suddenly, as if offended, and we sat uncomfortable in the silence it left behind.

  “Is this journey truly necessary?” The Reverend Johnston raised a hand to Father. “Perhaps it would be better for all if the estate could be settled without your representative, Jack?”

  “Speak not, good Reverend, of altering our plans to align ourselves with demonic predictions. What must be, will be.” Father sighed and clapped John Jr. on the leg again. “Son, if you would have an early start, you must retire.” Father seemed to relish this exercise of his will over the Spirit’s talk and I felt annoyed with him.

  “We will not pass the night here. Jack, Lucy.” The Reverend Johnston and Calvin Justice stood to take their leave.

  “John Jr., God bless your endeavors and your travels. Numerous temptations you will meet along the road, but we will pray for you and know the Lord walks with those who walk the right true path.”

  “I will recall your counsel often, I am certain, Reverend.” John Jr. smiled and hung his head a little.

  Upstairs, as I undressed, I hoped some sense would lodge inside John Jr.’s head instead of dreams and he would rise in the morning and tell our Father he simply could not go, for the Spirit had said it was unwise. Besides, the opportunity to meet a girl who would please like no other could not be missed, for everyone knew such matches in life were not easily come by. I thought of Josh Gardner’s gray eyes and of his arm steadying my own months ago when we had walked on the path to the stream. I felt he pleased me like no other, but I did not see enough of him, and soon I would be missing two of my brothers instead of just one. I crawled into my bed and pulled the summer cotton quilt up high, though it was warm. I wished to wrap up my thoughts in the blanket, for I knew whatever passion lay inside John Jr.’s adventurous heart, he took after Father in most ways, and I expected he would rise before the dawn to leave.