All That Lives

by Melissa Sanders-Self

  “Come, sister,” Drewry called to me from the church steps as the Reverend’s treasured brass bell began to ring. I hurried to join my brother and we entered into the church in silence, walking quietly to our places in the pews. Reverend Johnston stood in front at his wooden pulpit, nodding greetings and waiting until the church had filled and the clanging bell had died away to begin his sermon. I was wearing a new red velvet bonnet Mother had stitched for me during her convalescence and the satin ribbons tied under my chin tickled my neck when I breathed. I knew it was wrong and sinful of me, but my greatest excitement in coming to church was the possibility Josh Gardner would be present, and I had seen him, sitting behind and to my left. I felt his gaze on the back of my head and I hoped he did plan to speak with me.

  “Today we are in the house of the Lord together,” the Reverend began. “May we be blessed with the Spirit of the Lord!”

  “Amen.”

  “Let us rise and sing his praises. A charge to keep I have …”

  “A charge to keep I have, a God to glorify.”

  The congregation sang together mightily and as I opened my throat and let the song pour forth I felt a surge of warmth and happiness within, for with Josh’s eye on my profile I felt my faith in God’s good nature returning inside me. I was exalted by the many true voices joining my own. It crossed my mind to stand and proclaim “the Spirit of the Lord is in me,” as Old Kate liked to do, but I thought better of it. I knew there were still those amongst the congregation who felt I was to blame for all our troubles, and I wanted no aspersions cast and no excess attention. It ought to be enough in the house of the Lord for me to feel exalted and for Him to feel me feeling it, and I hoped He would.

  I recalled my promise to Mother and as soon as the sermon ended, I made my way straight to the buggy, wondering if it would be too brazen to fetch my basket up to the Reverend to hand out at the door of the church. I pictured myself standing beside him, distributing the delicious fruit, but what would be the response? I was nervous and uncertain how to go about my task when Thenny tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see her two gloved hands outstretched in the shape of a cup.

  “Might I have some cherries from the Spirit, Miss Betsy?” she joked and giggled, pleased to see me. “My mother has told me everything!”

  “Yes, you must!” I surprised her, undoing the muslin cloth so quickly cherries fell from the edges onto the floor of the buggy.

  “My, Betsy, you have fetched them here?

  ” “Mother believes we should share our good fortune with our community.”

  Thenny helped me gather them up and followed my example in popping every other one into her mouth. We had not spoken since Father’s funeral, but the resentment I had felt toward her gossiping about me on that day had completely dissipated, and I was very glad to see her and share her company. I wondered what she knew of Josh. Under my bonnet ribbons I cast my eyes about to see where he was and I saw him striding across the lawn, away from his father’s buggy, toward us.

  “Miss Betsy, what a pleasure to see you, beautiful as ever and long missed.” Josh took my hand in his and I blushed. Thenny was impressed with his forward nature and stood with her mouth hanging open for a moment before quickly thinking to tease Josh.

  “Wait till you see what she has in her basket!”

  “Some sweet summer fruits from the tropics.” I pulled my hand from Josh’s and reached for a bunch of grapes from the basket to give to Thenny. She dangled it in jest coyly before Josh’s mouth, daring him to take one in his lips. He took a step back, raising his eyebrows in mock fear.

  “I hear say such fruits will rot your insides and turn your brains to worms, is it not true?”

  We dissolved into laughter at his expression and yet our giggles did not last long, for Mrs. Thorn hurried over to us and her stern expression reminded me briefly of Father.

  “How fares your mother, Betsy?” Mrs. Thorn brought silence to our party.

  “Very much better, thank you. She asked I might give you more fruit to carry home, as we have such a surplus.”

  “Most certainly,” Mrs. Thorn replied with a smile, but I saw her look nervously sideways under her bonnet at Mr. Thorn, to see if he was watching her stash away bunches of grapes and plums in her coat. He would have been hard-pressed not to notice something was happening at our buggy, for as if there was one mind within the congregation, more people now approached.

  “How fares Mrs. Bell?” cried Kate, huffing from the back of the crowd. She probably wished to be certain I had noticed her and would save some fruit for her to take home to Ignatius, but her calling out had the effect of turning the crowd’s attention toward her, thus enlarging the circle.

  “She fares well, and requests those who wish to, come away today with a sampling of the sweet summer fruit provided by the Spirit at our home.” Though I was nervous, I used the opportunity of an audience to broadcast my purpose.

  “Taste it not!” cried a voice from the back and I recognized Dr. Hopson’s wife, Abigail, out on the edge.

  “I have tasted it and suffered no ill effects.” The Reverend strode confidently down the hill from the church doorway, defending me. “The Lord works in ways mysterious to us. We know not how these fruits have come here, but clearly they are healthful and good in the dark winter, and the mark of the Devil is not on them.” He strode right up to me, and picking a peach from the basket, he took a bite.

  “Reverend!” Mrs. Hopson was clearly upset. “I have seen everything! When a man of the cloth preaches he has eaten the fruit of a demon and claims to suffer no ill effects! I will not come again to this church, for Satan must now be in your soul.” It was a heavy charge to be levied at the Reverend, especially before so many, but he bore it well. He raised his voice for all to hear and quoted the Gospel of John.

  “Beloved, believe not every Spirit, but try the Spirits whether they are of God: No man hath seen God at any time. If we love one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us. We have known and believed the love that God has for us. God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God and God in Him.”

  A spontaneous chorus of Amen! rose from the crowd, and the Reverend carried on.

  “I say these offerings come in the purest Spirit of the Lord our God, a miracle provided to heal the soul of a woman so good and kind in our community that God has visited on her severe afflictions to show us what He means by the right true path, and by purpose and love. God has made Mrs. Lucy Bell a widow and an example for all of us, Mrs. Hopson, and I pray, rethink your decision to taste not the sweet summer fruit offered here.”

  “That’s right, Reverend,” someone called, and another shouted, “ ’Tis so! I heard those who taste the fruit have been improved.” There was a nodding of heads and murmur of agreement about the yard and people pushed forward to get nearer to me, to take a sample of the Spirit’s gifts.

  Mrs. Hopson turned her back to the crowd and began walking to her carriage where the doctor was waiting for her.

  “It was not God that made Lucy Bell a widow, Reverend,” she called loudly back, over her shoulder, and I knew we would not be seeing her or the doctor at our church again. The Methodist service of Calvin Justice was closer to their home anyway. I would not miss them. Hands reached out for fruit and I loaded them up. Thenny helped me do it, but we were somber, especially compared to our earlier mood. Vernon Batts came up behind me and hissed in my ear.

  “Does the Devil’s fruit taste sweet to you, Miss Betsy?” I threw a plum at him, but he caught it fast and laughed, turning away. I hated his mean accusations, but hearing my mother described as horribly afflicted and a widow did more to dampen my good mood than Vernon’s evil talk. I was relieved when the basket was emptied and with well wishes for my mother, the crowd thinned and departed.

  “Thenny, come now!” Mrs. Thorn called my friend away and there remained only Josh Gardner and my brothers.

  “Miss Betsy, might I trouble you for a ride to t
he crossing?” He touched my arm as I folded the muslin inside the empty basket and I felt my face grow hot.

  “The crossing?” I repeated stupidly, not knowing how to answer.

  “My father must ride to John Polk’s house and I would prefer to make my own way home, which I can easily do through the woods from there.”

  “Of course, we will gladly take you.” I felt somewhat flustered, as I did not wish to draw any further attention from the community with my actions and I was not certain what the Spirit might say about me riding in the buggy with Josh at my side. At the same time I was loath to discourage him in any way, as I had truly missed him. I climbed up and he climbed up and sat beside me and we waited silently while Drewry and the boys climbed in. We were so close I could feel his sweet breath moving the air around my face. Drewry caught my eye under my bonnet edge and raised his brows in question, and Josh turned to speak to him.

  “It won’t trouble you to provide a lift for me to the crossing will it, Drewry?”

  “No, ’tis no matter at all.” He leaned out the door instructing Zeke and we set out, in silence. I was conscious of Josh’s thigh and shoulder as we bumped down the rutted hill toward the bridge, and I tried to lean as much toward the side as possible, lest Josh think wrong of me rubbing up against him.

  “A lovely sermon, wasn’t it?” Josh attempted polite conversation, but I kept my eyes on my skirt and my gloves in my lap and not on the red velvet ribbon at the edge of my face, for I could feel Josh’s eyes on my cheeks, and without my control, I felt them growing ever warmer, until I was certain they gleamed as red as the ribbon itself. Richard and Joel burst into a fit of unexplained giggles and I leaned forward and swatted at them, as you do at flies, with the muslin cloth from the basket.

  “The Reverend is born to his calling,” Drewry answered Josh as I did not, for I was unable to speak, silenced by silly fears. What did Josh think of me? Did he think I had told my little brothers of the kisses we’d shared? Did he think my love was openly declared for him inside my family? I felt wholly unlike myself.

  “Soon it will be spring, for the smell of it is promised now in the chilly morn.” Drewry did me a kind favor, chatting with Josh.

  “I believe the best fishing will be on your land, under the cavern, where the mighty tree has fallen and made such a pleasant dam.” Josh bumped his leg accidentally on purpose into mine and I saw Drewry frown. I could tell he was wondering how Josh was aware of the spot, but he did not ask.

  “There, and in Kate Batts’s pond, where the fish are always biting.” They speculated further on where the best fishing spots were likely to be come spring, and I remained quiet and withdrawn. I wondered, could it be possible for Josh to be filled with the same longing I experienced every time I saw his gentle face? I did not believe right then that it was so.

  Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

  The Spirit suddenly hissed in my mind, but it did not speak out loud. I felt the pinpricks of its touch up and down my hands and arms as we traversed the rutted road. I said nothing and I bore them without flinching, pleased they did take away the heat from my cheeks. We soon reached the crossing and Zeke reined the horses to a stop. Josh climbed from the buggy with a lighthearted jump, turning quickly, holding up his hand.

  “Thank you kindly, Drewry, Miss Betsy, boys.” He tipped his hat at Joel and Richard, making fun, and for the first time I looked into his eyes as he waved farewell to me. What I saw most clearly announced the love he felt. “Miss Betsy, tell your dear mother I will pray for her swift and full recovery. My mother has also been ill and incapacitated so I have been most needed at my home. This is my first outing in several weeks, and I am well pleased it resulted in our meeting.” That was clearly as much as he could say in front of my brothers and Zeke about how he had managed to obey my wishes and not call on me. My heartbeat quickened and I knew he was the one soul who could best understand the heavy weight of my continued isolation, but I was too frightened to ask him to call when he could.

  “Please wish your mother a swift recovery from our family as well!” I had to lean out the window and shout, for Zeke had whipped the horses and we were rolling off.

  “Betsy and Joshua, swinging on a swing!” Richard and Joel started in with the schoolyard teasing song and I could tell they were begging for me to swat at them again, and I did so, with much more enthusiasm than when Josh was in the buggy.

  That afternoon, the boys told Mother all about Josh hitching a ride and how nervous I became. She laughed until she coughed, then smiled and patted my hand.

  “Perhaps our Betsy will soon have a beau …”

  “Stop, Mother! Josh Gardner is kind indeed, but he begged a ride purely for convenience.” I was not ready to announce my love for him and I changed the subject. “Nearly all the members of our congregation did sample the fruit, and they were happy as Old Kate to get it.” I hoped Mother would not admonish me for insulting Mrs. Batts. “And the Reverend spoke of you in the yard as a soul singled out by God.” I left out the part about why he had done that, and also everything about Mrs. Hopson, because Mother was still very fragile and I thought it best not to worry her with any little details that might make her sad. She coughed again and frowned, and I wondered if she guessed at what had prompted the Reverend’s praises.

  “Betsy, I would have you take a look into John Jr.’s chest. Last year before our troubles started up, I had it in my mind to stitch us both new dresses for the Easter celebrations. At the bottom, you will find two bolts of printed cotton, ten yards each. Fetch them hither.”

  I did as she asked and when I returned, I laid the bolts slightly unrolled on the parlor rug at Mother’s request.

  “Choose which you prefer.” One was a very pretty white with tiny blue roses printed on it, and the other was a solid pale blue with a darker stripe. I had nothing made of printed cloth and I was fascinated by the pattern.

  “Might I have the dainty flowered one?” I asked, choosing the fabric I knew would brighten my mood every time I saw it.

  “You may,” Mother nodded and reached for my hand. “I have something else for you.” She opened the robe she wore over her flannel petticoat and pulled a piece of paper from inside the folds of her nightdress. She handed it to me and the texture of it was unlike any paper I had seen before in ream or book. A woman in the most beautiful modern dress was printed on it.

  “The Spirit brought it,” Mother explained. “When I woke from the nap I took while you were at church it was in my fingers and the Being says it is from the French Almanac of this very year. Shall we make you one just exactly like it?”

  “Might we try?” I marveled at the sophisticated style. Mother gave her answer with a willing nod and I thought she was most likely very bored with lying about every day, and glad to have the activity of dressmaking. It seemed a good measure of her restored health that she wished to spend hours cutting and pinning. Chloe helped me move the chairs off the rug and Mother and I laid out the fabric with the paper picture in the center. We studied it carefully before cutting the cloth.

  “The skirt will be the widest of any you have ever owned.” She adjusted her knees on the pillow Chloe had brought from her bed.

  “And there are so many pleats in the waistband to sew.” I stared at the picture, attempting to see how it should be done.

  “Yes, it will require many tiny stitches to make it up right.” Mother finished cutting the front panel of the skirt. “I have found the challenge for your skills, Miss Betsy, or rather, the Spirit has.” She sat back and coughed again.

  “Shall I help you to your bed now, Mother?” I was worried she was attempting too much.

  “No, I should like to cut it all today. When this dress is finished, your skirt will sway like a bell when you cross the room.” She smiled at the thought.

  “Mother, it means so much to me to see you so recovered.” I felt exceptionally lighthearted. She had me stand with my arms above my head and just my petticoat on while she gathered
yards and yards of the crisp cotton around my waist, to pin it up. We worked all day and burned the lamps awhile after supper to finish the pinning.

  In the morning after breakfast, I began to sew. I had decided I would follow Mother’s example and devote every day to the completion of my dress. I was sitting at the chair by the front parlor window stitching away, when the Spirit spoke.

  The deed is done and not one of you did try to stop it.

  The next moment brought a knock at our door.

  “What was that about?” Mother was crocheting lace for my sleeves in the chair across from me. “I am expecting no callers.” She stood, pulling her robe close around her, opening the door. There stood Calvin Justice with his hat in his hands. He refused Mother’s invitation to step inside.

  “I bear news of a dreadful tragedy, Lucy. Young Amanda Ellison has drowned in Old Kate’s pond.”

  “Oh!” Mother’s hand flew to her mouth and she let out a cry as if she’d been struck. “How did it happen?”

  “The story of her last hours was related by her friend Gertrude, and all was revealed to have happened exactly as the Being foretold it, nearly one year previous. Do you recall the night? We talked of witch creatures.”