“There was snow several feet deep …” Mother spoke softly, remembering, and we were silent a moment.
“I could not eat a mouthful more, my belly will pop my trouser buttons.” John Jr. pushed his chair back, and I watched him stand and stretch his lean form.
“Let us move to the parlor, and read a passage.” Mother got slowly to her feet and Joel and Richard quickly followed her.
“How could you?” I whispered to Drewry, left alone at the table with him. “And you could have told me.” I was annoyed.
“It was not the way he makes it out, Betsy, and you have enough to think on with your own affairs. There is no need to trouble yourself with mine.”
Chloe came from the kitchen to clear away the plates and I felt she was careful not to look at either Drewry or myself. I wondered with some anxiety what he meant by my affairs. Did he suspect what I had done with Josh? I did not wish to discuss it further and thankfully neither did he. We both stood quickly and adjourned to the parlor, leaving Chloe to clean up alone.
John Jr. was standing silently before Father’s chair with his eyes cast downward.
“Take it for your own,” Mother sighed, collapsing into her chair, opposite. “Your father would want you to, were he here with us tonight.”
“I can never be happy in my life again when every day I feel the horror of my father’s murder.” John Jr. turned from the chair to the fire, and withdrawing a dull pewter flask none of us had ever seen before from his shirt pocket, he took a long drink. I thought truly, he was his father’s son.
“You must be your best self in the face of adversity, John Jr.,” Mother said, her eyes filling with tears as she looked up to him. “I know you are capable of great strength and tolerance, for the Spirit has praised those qualities in you in every report given over to me during the many months you have been absent from your home.” She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and the rest of us were quiet. My back was itchy where my dress had been damp and was now stuck to my skin. I squirmed in my chair, unhappy John Jr.’s presence required all of us to relive Father’s passing.
“He will never know any of the good things I may possibly do!” John Jr. turned to look at Mother and I saw that his eyes, already widened with the drink, contained a flash of youthful anger.
If your father could speak he would assure you, you do satisfy.
“If my father could speak he would still be alive, and not murdered by you, evil demon!”
You know nothing. I could imitate his voice exactly and compose his words so you might never know it wasn’t him that spoke, but it is not my purpose to deceive you.
“You have no purpose, Spirit of the damned!”
You know nothing of my purpose.
“Pray do not argue further. This house has seen enough malevolence.” Mother held her hand up to John Jr. imploring him to stop and cause no conflict. I hoped he would recognize how weak she had recently been, and respect her request. He frowned and was silent.
People who have gone on and left their bodies do not in this era talk to those left behind, John Jr. Bell. They will not in the future either. There is enough talking going on in the world today without the souls of thousands of years past having a say.
I laughed at this, for I could not help it. The idea of a million dead departed chatting away, filling the everyday air with their ancient concerns, struck me as humorous. Mother smiled also, appearing relieved I had broken the tension, but John Jr. was not amused. He lifted the heavy poker and jabbed at the logs in the fire Drewry had made, sending sparks up the chimney.
“Your true nature is evil, and I know it is so.” John Jr. spoke softly toward the grate.
My true nature, you will never know, as you knew not your father’s.
“My father’s nature was beyond your comprehension,” John Jr. objected.
The Spirit laughed, at once condescending and mean.
What I could tell you of Jack’s true nature. Instead let us talk of how I returned your mother to the land of the living, and nursed her with gifts from the tropics.
The Spirit was most concerned its kindnesses were emphasized to my brother, and Mother sighed, obliging it briefly like a willful child she wished would learn a lesson in manners.
“ ’Tis true, John Jr., as the Being relates. For certain you have heard of my illness and recovery? The Spirit told me my messages to you were delivered.”
“Mother, have you faith in a murderous demon?” John Jr. was incredulous, his opinion of the Being solidly formed. I could see abhorrence spreading in a dark blush across his features, as though we betrayed Father’s memory with our tolerance for it.
“My faith is in God, son, for He inhabits all things.” Mother reached for his hand. “Even the many we do not understand.” I watched them sit, silently holding hands for several moments until John Jr.’s countenance revealed he had grown calmer.
Chloe brought in the tea tray along with the remains of my caramel cake. She set it on the table, and nervously I jumped up to do the pouring, anxious to change the mood. For the first time, I felt Mother’s eyes on my back, appraising the twigs stuck in my hair, and I wondered, what did she see? Was there a mark of dampness on the back of my dress? Would she think to wonder why? The teacup I held rattled in the saucer when I turned to deliver it, and I saw her frown.
“Betsy, bring my brush along with my tea. Your hair is outrageously tangled, and I would put it in a braid.” I hoped her instructions to me were meant only to dissipate the tension further by bringing normal routines into the room, but I feared she suspected something amiss. I hurried to her dark bedroom and took the brush up off her chest of drawers, carefully avoiding looking to her bed for I was thinking of Father, and it was easy to conjure the image of his corpse lying there. I hastened back to Mother’s side, kneeling before the fire, and she began to brush my hair.
“Tell us your most exciting story, brother,” Joel pleaded. He took his piece of cake from Chloe and sat on the rug at John Jr.’s feet.
“That would be the storm of lightning at Bailey’s Crossing …” John Jr. smiled to see that despite all our trauma Joel was still a trusting child, relishing a good evening’s entertainment.
“Did it get you, John Jr.?” Richard sat cross-legged beside him, encouraging him to tell the tale.
“We had been on the road for three long weeks of terrible weather. You recall the rains last spring? The heavy ones that went on and on after Clara Lawson hanged herself?” He looked quickly to Mother, as if he would apologize for the reference, but felt it was essential to conjure up weather we could picture. I felt Mother nod to him, absently brushing over my tangles. “The rain was like that, endless, and in the afternoon, the wind whipped up. The tracks in the road were a swamp beneath the horses’ feet. We were striving to reach Bailey’s Crossing, for we were greatly in need of supplies, but the animals stumbled and sank near to their knees each step in the muck and the road had not been properly cleared, so branches whipped and struck our sides, and it was very slow going.” Abruptly the sound of loud rain splashing into mud filled our parlor. “Leave off!” John Jr. turned his head with great annoyance to the fire as if the Spirit would speak from there. “I can tell it well enough alone,” he snapped, but the Being did not answer, though the sound of rain did stop, and he continued.
“Isiah and I were unaware the demon was present in the storm until it spoke. ‘John Jr. Bell, stop this instant or your head will burst like a melon!’ ” John Jr. did an excellent imitation of the Spirit’s most commanding tone. “We heard a thunderous cracking sound and a bolt of lightning was hurled from the sky into a tree before us on the roadside. It crashed down across our path, and if we had gone one foot farther it would have meant our skulls crushed for certain!”
Now they know, I saved your life, and your lowly slave.
“ ’Tis certain you were there, creature of the damned, but ’tis as likely you did cause the damage as relieve it.” John Jr. took another drink fr
om his flask.
“It nearly got you, brother, just like it nearly got me in the whirlpool of quicksand!” Richard clasped his hands in excitement. I tried not to flinch when Mother ripped through an impossible knot in my hair.
“It saved you, Richard! It didn’t get you,” Joel objected. “Tell it again, John Jr.,” he begged.
“I have many more stories I know will interest you,” John Jr. laughed, “but I believe you have your own share.”
“One day in winter Drewry shot a witch rabbit!” Joel was anxious to recount that story.
“And pretty Miss Sallie Barton from Virginia came to call,” Drewry spoke up.
“Not tonight, dears,” Mother interrupted, “for it is growing late. Perhaps you can continue telling tales in the comfort of your beds.” Mother did not wish to observe John Jr. hearing Drew’s description of Sallie Barton, I could tell, and I certainly did not wish to relive our sleigh ride. “I must finish Elizabeth’s plait.” Mother continued to pull the twigs and leaves from my slippery hair. She did not speak to me about it, but she did place her hand on my back, smoothing the wrinkles in the cloth. I hoped she did not know what I had done that day. I wondered if I knew myself. John Jr. stood.
“I will take the boys upstairs, Mother. So many nights I have longed for my bed, I am looking forward to this rest. Provided it will be undisturbed.” He spoke to the walls and ceiling as if he hoped the Spirit was listening and would heed his desire.
“It will be peaceful, I am certain,” Mother said. “It has been for some time. You know not the depth of my joy over your return.” She tilted her cheek and John Jr. bent and kissed her. Taking the boys by the hand, he climbed the stairs, returning a different person to his same old room.
the life of all that lives
The following morning was a Saturday and I awoke to John Jr. shaking my shoulder.
“Will you come to the cavern, sister? Drewry is out on the lands and Mother has taken the boys to Thorn’s store. I greatly desire to see Father’s best view. Will you come?” I wondered if he had something private he wished to tell me. Something had changed between us, exactly as I had felt it would before his departure, but what it was I could not say. So much had happened, I knew not how to tell him of the many events he had missed while he was away, or even how to accurately express my feelings. I pulled my quilt up to my chin, blinking to focus on his face. He reminded me of Father in so many ways, it made me sad. And yet, in the gleam of his teeth, smiling his inquiry, I saw my brother’s true nature. His soul lived for adventure, though unlike Drewry, he might meet it simply to practice restraint.
“I will,” I answered, pushing back my cover. I would not pass on an opportunity to visit the cavern, as I had not been there since last I went with him.
We set out directly after eating breakfast. The sun was pleasantly warm and large white clouds rolled behind the treetops. I carried a saddlebag of our warmest woolens which could suffer mud, and our lunches, and John Jr. carried his rifle on his shoulder, as well as a coil of rope, in case of an emergency. The oil lantern he’d fetched from the barn swung carelessly in his right hand and twice he bumped my knee, until I fell to walking a step behind.
“ ’Tis nowhere more lovely than Father’s land.” John Jr. spoke over his shoulder, invigorated with the spring.
“In truth?” I was curious what the rest of the world was like, despite my suspicion it was much the same as where we walked.
“Betsy, there is land vastly different from this.”
“In all aspects?”
“In all aspects. I saw mountains so tall they stood in the clouds, with faces of sheer rock one hundred times the size of Father’s cavern.” John Jr. adjusted the rope on his shoulder and I remembered he had always enjoyed climbing. He would not exaggerate. “The land past here is God’s great majesty, but many settlements are evil and corrupt.” His lips curled into a grim frown reminding me of his face when he teased Drewry over Little Bright, and I wondered what else he had seen in his travels.
“How say you?”
“I tell you, Betsy, there are parts of this great south where impecuniousness has caused whole communities and their outlying districts to go to wreck and ruin. The larger cities are filled with swindlers, wanting only to fleece you. Our father has provided for us well here, Betsy.”
“That is understood by me.” I had the feeling there was something more he wished to say.
“All men will not have your father’s or your brother’s good intentions toward you, sister.” I could see he was concerned for me. “There are men in this country who would dishonor you as quick as they would blink an eyelid and with less thought as well. With your beauty, you must be aware.”
“I am aware, John Jr., but you forget, I am unlikely to travel far from this secluded farm.” My response reassured him and he left it at that. I wondered what he had observed on the evening of his arrival as I strode unconscious of his presence up the hill? I had committed a grave sin, I knew, but it was between me and the Lord and Josh Gardner. Besides, I felt my brother was hardly one to give advice.
We reached the sinkhole that marked the cold storehouse and we stopped there, before the mighty wooden door. Dean had carved it from a massive oak felled by himself and Father, such a feat of strength he had recalled it before doing battle with the black dog witch creature. Set into the knoll of the hillside and reinforced with stones, it was a formidable sight. The iron padlock and chain were kept well oiled and when John Jr. fitted in the key, the lock snapped undone. The handle Dean had carved was long enough for many pairs of men’s hands, as in the winter it took more than one person to heave it open. John Jr. and I grasped the smooth wood together and pulled with all our strength, until the foot-wide door creaked, gave way, and the cold air smelling of smoked meats and cheese blasted our faces.
“We must dress out here.” John Jr. took the satchel off my shoulder and we pulled out all the clothes, leaving only our lunch to carry in the bag. I put one of Mother’s old wool gardening smocks over my plain cloth dress and John Jr. wore his oldest woolen coat. I watched him expertly light the lantern after striking the flint and steel to get his char cloth going, igniting the flame in his tinderbox.
“Are you prepared, dear sister?”
“As ever I will be.”
He went first, descending the stone steps into the wide room of the larder.
“Look at the prosperity we enjoy, dear Betsy. Look on it!” He raised the lamp and I saw we had two sides of pork and two of beef strung near the wall where it was coldest, while wooden shelves built to stand alone held cheese wrapped in muslin and quantities of butter blocks. Sitting in pewter bowls of icy water was enough butter to cover all the corn-bread eaten in Robertson County. There were fifty-pound sacks labeled sugar, hominy, cornmeal and oats, stacked cross-wise on the highest shelves. I did not often come to the storehouse and our abundance was astounding.
There was a natural slope down to the back of the room and John Jr. went that way. The passage narrowed slightly and then more, until the walls became so tight we had to turn sideways and slide along. We did this silently for nearly half an hour, winding our way back through the rock of the massive cavern. It was damp in places and very tight in others and, as I moved along, I felt the chilling rock pressing my body hard, and I had to hold my breath to squeeze through. John Jr. had the lantern before him and the passage grew completely dark as he rounded a corner more quickly than I. Without the light I could not see my hand before my face.
“Go more slowly, brother,” I called ahead.
“Hurry, it is not much farther,” he called back. I was happy I had worn my oldest ragged bonnet, for even though John Jr. was in front and got the worst of it, the spiderwebs were thick and I did not like the feel of them on my cheeks and hands.
We emerged from the small passage into a large cave some thirty feet high with walls the color of ripe figs and giant dark stalactites hanging from the ceiling. I felt as I remembered feeling last t
ime I had visited; as if I’d entered the most unusually sacred church. I knew abruptly John Jr. and I were not the first to see the pleasures of this place. I wondered why it had not struck me before.
“Brother, do you think the Injuns once lived here?”
“Injuns, or maybe animals.”
He held the lantern up and we examined a stalactite.
“See how the minerals contained within our earth cause the cone to shimmer?” John Jr.’s interest in geology was deeper than I’d realized.
“ ’Tis lovely,” I agreed, marveling at the swirls of color, but as I stared at the icicle of rock, the flame of his lantern wavered and I thought I saw an ancient and unfamiliar face staring from inside the cone. I gasped and grabbed John Jr.’s arm.
“What, Betsy?” He turned to me, surprised, but I did not say what I had seen.
“Let us move on and have our lunch, dear brother, for I am nearly faint with hunger.”
We carried on to the back of the room, then climbed upward through a short but wide passage that served as the hallway to the great mouth of the cavern. We entered there and I noticed first how smooth and flat the floor became, and, looking up, I saw framed by the gigantic arch of rock the gorgeous view of Father’s acreage spreading far below.
“What’s this?” John Jr. did not face the panorama as I did, but rather turned away and held the lantern high to better see the concave wall rising on our left. I looked where he pointed and saw a pile of something that resembled bones in the corner, under the shelf of rock.
“Never mind. Look at this!” I insisted he survey the land, and moving past him, I settled on my knees in the arc of sunlight bathing the floor right at the mouth of the cave. I looked down at the river and the fallen elm, the perfect fishing hole. I thought of the day I’d stood below with Josh, admiring the icicles hanging from the arched mouth above where I sat now. I wished heartily he was by my side.
All That Lives Page 38