It was dawn when she weaved in the final end. She spread the blanket out on the dew soaked grass in front of her. It was beautiful to the eye. Graceful triangles called to mind the geese of the pattern name. But the geese were fleeing south from the winter, away from certain death. The malevolence of the curse radiated out from the blanket. Elena pulled her knees to her chest and rocked and cried for hours.
When the shower came Elena sent the gift along with her regrets. She claimed a nasty case of the flu. She could not bear to watch the other women ooh and ahh over her gift when she knew the curse it carried. Later one of the neighborhood children came with a slice of cake from the baby shower and note from Samantha that she had missed Elena and hoped that she would feel better soon. The little child could not understand why Elena wept over the cake.
Elena retreated into the house, her tears and hitching sobs bringing on a coughing fit. When she brought her hand away from her mouth she saw her palm covered with droplets of blood. And so it begins, she thought as she scrubbed her hands at the kitchen sink and put the cake down the garbage disposal.
***
Samantha’s son took his first life on the day he was born. He was so large and the birth so violent that Samantha bled to death before the doctors could help. The boy was hale and hearty and did not seem to mind in the least that he was motherless. Bob took his son home and began to plan his wife’s funeral. Immediately the boy began to sicken. He cried and coughed all through the night and on into the day. The neighborhood women took pity on Bob and took shifts helping him care for his new born son. Elena stayed away. The doctors came and could find no cause for the sickness. Nothing they did seemed to help. Samantha and Bob’s little boy died when he was three days old.
***
Elena opened the door to find Bob standing on her porch with the geese blanket in his hands.
“Hi,” he said trying to smile and failing. “I wanted to bring this back to you. Sammy won’t be needing it anymore, and I… I thought maybe some other child could get some use out of it.” He thrust the blanket forward. The deep purple wells under his bloodshot eyes spoke of sleepless, tearful nights. His cheeks were gaunt and sunken. Elena tucked her hands under her arms.
“Oh, no, Bob,” she said. “I can’t take it back. I make those for each person. Why don’t you bury it with him?”
“That’s not a bad idea. Thanks, Elena.”
Elena watched his hunched shoulders retreat down the walk and sincerely hoped that the curse in his arms hadn’t touched him too deeply yet. Hopefully he would return to full health once the thing was in the ground. Her own breath rasped in and out of her lungs. She found it almost a comfort.
***
At the funeral the whole town remarked on how peaceful Samantha and her son looked in the coffin, and how absolutely heart wrenching it was to see her cradling little Sammy in her arms, wrapped in the blanket Elena had made.
It took Elena hours to steel herself to pay her respects. She hung to the back of the room, comforting others and offering the clichéd phrases that seem to be the only thing your mouth can find when faced with death. Finally, in a lull in the visitation there was just no other way to avoid it. The path was clear. Elena’s usual confident gait shrank to timid, mincing steps. Her heart fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird. What would she find among the lilies and gladioli that surrounded Samantha and her child?
Elena stood before the coffin, knees shaking. Samantha and the baby did indeed look serene. The undertaker had done a beautiful job on them both, making them into a recumbent waxen Madonna and child. Elena reached forth a trembling hand and touched the child. She could feel the heat of the curse in the blanket, but the child was empty; completely blessed empty. She could feel the echo of Samantha’s spirit in her shell, but the child had not stayed long enough to leave his mark on this flesh. Relief broke open in Elena’s belly and escaped in a great sob out her throat. Another breath hitched up her chest and she sobbed again, and this time great, fat tears followed down her cheeks. He knees threatened to give out and friendly hands guided her away. The hands of those she had patted and soothed patted and soothed her in turn. Someone gave her a glass of water.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I think I need a bit of air.”
She stumbled outside, wrenching coughs shaking her body and filling her handkerchief with blood. This will probably be my last public appearance, she thought as her wobbly legs threatened to betray her. When the coughing stopped, she wiped her mouth and looked up to see Bob a small distance away also taking a bit of air, and for a rare moment he was alone. She hung back at first, then approached him.
“So, how are you doing?” she asked.
“About as well as can be expected I guess.” He flexed the corners of his lips upward.
“Tell me, Bob,” Elena said. “Do you believe in fate?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that some things are just meant to happen, and that no matter what you do, nothing can stop them.” Elena looked up at him and clutched her purse tighter. Tears threatened to roll down her cheeks again.
“That is a very comforting thought,” he said glancing back to the funeral parlor. “I think I do believe in fate. After something like this I think I have to.”
Elena’s shoulders relaxed. “Yes, I believe in fate too.”
***
Elena had been in bed for a week, refusing all offers for help in a kind but firm tone, when her cousin Kate swept into town. Elena lifted her head off the pillow, her eyes wide with surprise when Kate entered her bedroom and flung an overnight bag in a chair in the corner.
“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Elena’s voice rasped out.
“You gave me a spare key when you bought the place, remember?” She felt Elena’s face for fever, then lifted her wrist to check her pulse. “And I’m here to help you since you’re obviously too stubborn to call for help. Wow, you look awful.” She began to trace the lines of Elena’s body with her hands hovering about six inches above.
In truth, Elena did look awful. Her robust frame had shrunk down to near skeletal proportions. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and her hair hung in lank strings around her face. Formerly rosy skin was now gray and waxen, stretched tight over her bones.
“I don’t want any help,” Elena grunted as she levered herself into a sitting position, pushing Kate’s hands away.
“Excuse me?” Kate didn’t bother keeping the surprise out of her voice. “You may not want the help, sweetie, but you need it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re dying.”
“I know I’m dying. I deserve it.” Elena wheezed into another coughing fit and snatched up a tissue from the bedside table to spit out a mouthful of blood.
“Whoa, stop the presses here. You deserve it? I think you’ve got some explaining to do, missy. The Elena I know would never do anything to deserve anything anywhere near this bad.”
Elena laid back down on her side, curling into a fetal ball. “I’ve done something really awful, Kate. Trust me, I deserve this. Now just go away and let me die in peace.”
Kate sat down on the edge of the bed and began to stroke her cousin’s back. “Sweetie, you can talk to me, whatever it is. We can fight this.”
“Don’t you understand?” Elena said. “I don’t want to fight it. I deserve this.”
“Elena, what did you do?” Kate’s voice was gentle and she waited until her cousin had stopped crying before she asked again.
“Elena, what did you do?”
“I killed.” Elena could barely force out a whisper. “I killed a baby.”
Kate’s breath whistled past her teeth and she was glad her cousin couldn’t see her eyes grown wide with shock and horror. But she managed to keep her voice soft, “Why?”
“He was evil, Kate. So evil that the premonition m
ade me sick. He was going to kill so many people. So much pain…” Elena rolled her face into her pillow and began to sob. Kate gathered Elena up and held her close, letting her cry it all out. When she finally stopped Elena looked up at her cousin with blood shot eyes.
“I really thought I did the right thing. I still think I did the right thing. But I have to pay for it, and I think my life for stopping all that misery is worth it. Do you understand?”
“I think I do,” Kate nodded and eased Elena back into a more comfortable position. “But I still can’t sit back and watch you die. That’s why I brought a few things.”
Kate unzipped her bag and produced a gorgeous fan pattern quilt, made from a riot of bright springtime colors.
“No, oh no, Kate,” Elena said. “You need to save that for someone else. Those take so long to make and the magic is so strong.”
“Sshhhh….” Kate snapped the quilt out over the bed and let it settle softly. She tucked it tight around Elena, making sure she was entirely cocooned. “Elena, trust me. Please, I want to do this for you.”
“But,” Elena furrowed her brow. “I’ll still have to pay the whole price. If I don’t do it now, I’m just going to have to keep paying in the next lifetime.”
“That’s true,” said Kate as she stroked the hair away from Elena’s face. “But think of it as an installment plan. You don’t have to pay it all at once.”
“I don’t know.” Elena could feel her pain start to ebb as the quilt began its work.
“You saved lives, Elena. Yes, you need to pay for what you did, but I don’t see the need for you to do it all at once. And there’s still so much more good you can do in this lifetime.”
“I suppose.” Elena yawned as healing sleep began to steal over her.
“I know,” Kate whispered as she kissed Elena’s forehead, then headed downstairs to start a pot of chicken soup.
***
About the Author
Since I am a writer, you would think that it would be easy to write a little bit about myself. It’s what I do after all. But it isn’t all that easy. When I write a story it’s about the story, not me. Writing about me makes me feel a little bit… exposed.
I could start in the usual places, where I was born and where I grew up. But like most people, my childhood was rather unremarkable. Like most little girls, I liked horses. Like many of my generation I muddled my way through my parent’s divorce and managed to come out with minimal baggage. Like some, I was geeky and I was teased. I liked to read too much and cared about fashion too little.
I could run down the resume litany of official accomplishments. I finished my Associate of Arts in Liberal Arts degree in 1995, my Bachelor of Arts in English in 1997, and my Master of Science in Professional Writing in 2004. While working on my degrees, I’ve been a waitress, a secretary, a customer service representative, a receptionist, and a cashier. I’ve worked in the information technology sector as a technical writer and editor since 1999, and I have taught Introduction to College Composition at the local community college.
But that really doesn’t scratch the surface of who I really am, does it? It’s just the me that shows up on paper. The real me is a bit of a klutz, assumes the best in people, has an odd mix strength and fragility and absolutely no sense of direction. The real me just wants to tell stories and laugh with her friends.
Let me tell you a story….
Find out more at www.michelledsonnier.com.
The Price You Pay Page 2