by Sara Donati
Ethan nodded. “The sooner the better.”
60
Daniel told Martha the story as best he remembered it.
A hot summer afternoon, the sky clear overhead and he was a pathfinder, leading a family of settlers deep into the frontier. His face painted with clay and chalk as his uncle Runs-from-Bears had taught him. He had gone off trail because there was a war party of Huron nearby, and it was his responsibility to see that the settlers’ scalps stayed on their heads where they belonged. He had a tomahawk, the one carved by his grandfather Hawkeye with a handle painted red. He used it to cut through the underbrush, and then stopped when he heard a step behind him. Maybe Aunt Todd had let Ethan come out to play after all. That would be good; it was hard work to ambush a war party by yourself.
But then his sister stepped out onto the deer trail. His twin, determined as ever to have her part in his games, though she was a girl. It did no good to argue with Lily but if he worked at it he might lose her, and so Daniel let out a war whoop meant to startle her and ran off, pushing hard up the mountain, wondering if she would dare follow him if he went as far as Eagle Rock. When he glanced behind him she was there, breathing hard, a scratch across her cheek, her mouth set in a line that meant she would get the best of him if she could.
She kept up and never once asked him to slow down or stop. By the time they hit the first crest his lungs were burning and he knew hers must be on fire. He was already a head taller and hard-muscled, but she was smart and stubborn, and her size didn’t seem to slow her down. No matter what tricks he tried, she’d follow. Another time he could be proud of her, but just now he wished he could fly away and leave her behind, a little bit of a girl carrying a fistful of drawings. Drawings, in the bush.
She was three minutes behind at least when he came out of the bush just under Eagle Rock, a boulder as big as a cabin jutting out of the mountain. Standing on top you could see the whole world: the village and Aunt Todd’s house on the hill where Ethan had been kept indoors to help her write letters, and a hundred, a thousand mountains. They came here sometimes with Da or Grandda or Runs-from-Bears, but never from below, as he had come this time with Lily following. From below it was crazy dangerous. A steep shifting incline, covered in many inches of loose scree.
He would have set off in another direction but for the voices that told him there was somebody on the rock. Somebody who shouldn’t be there. His da would want to know about this and Daniel should run straight home to tell him, but first he needed to find out who was trespassing.
He crept up until he could see over the edge, and then he stayed longer than he meant to, trying to make sense of what he was seeing: two people rolling around on the ground, one of them a woman, her skirts rucked up so that her legs were bare to the sun. The other a man, on top of her, his breeches down around his knees.
Daniel dropped back down, eased himself down all the way until he was crouched under the ledge. He could still hear them, hear the noises they made. They were fucking, a word he had learned not so long ago from the boys in the village. Fucking on Eagle Rock in broad daylight, and who would take such a chance?
But he knew the answer. He had heard enough to recognize their voices.
Then Lily was there. He had almost forgot about her. She stood heaving for breath, and before she could make a single noise he pulled her down next to him and put a hand over her mouth. If she hadn’t been struggling to breathe she would have bit him, he was sure of that.
The voices were louder now, an argument so bitter that the taste of bile was in the air. Daniel tightened his grip on his sister, feeling the jump in her pulse and his own.
Will you be quiet?
When she nodded he took his hand away.
It’s all right, he whispered. They’ll go soon.
Who?
Even whispered the names made her jump. Jemima was shouting now: I’ll swear a rape.
The sound of a hard slap, and her laughter in response. It gave Daniel a sick feeling to hear that laugh, and still worse was what came next. They were struggling and the whole business started again, Jemima Southern and Liam Kirby fucking on Eagle Rock like snarling dogs.
Lily didn’t know yet about fucking, and he wasn’t going to tell her. He pressed her arm hard to keep her quiet.
It seemed to go on forever and then the sound of Jemima’s laugh came again, sharper and shriller, like the hunting cry of a falcon. Then silence. It seemed that one of them must have gone away, but there was no way to be sure. Daniel wondered how long they should wait, when it would be safe, and with that thought came the rattle of scree.
Jemima stood in the sunlight looking at them where they crouched under the ledge. Her lower lip was bloody and her breasts free. Daniel looked away and Lily took that as permission to fling herself at Jemima.
And from there things went from bad to worse.
Daniel’s story took no more than ten minutes. When he had finished he took Martha by the hand and they went into the woods. She allowed herself to be led to a fallen tree, and she sat there beside him.
After a while she said, “I was conceived that day.”
“I think so, yes.”
“She threatened you.”
Daniel nodded. “But none of that came to anything. There was no real harm done.”
She turned to look at him. “Why did you tell me this?”
“I haven’t told you all of it, yet,” Daniel said. “There was one more thing. Something I haven’t told anyone, not Lily or my parents. Not anyone.”
“Do I want to hear this?”
“Most likely not, but I have to tell it.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
“Lily’s ankle looked to be broke, and so I set off to get help and I ran as hard as I could. You know the beaver pond where the stream drops real sudden about six feet? The little waterfall, we used to call it, about halfway between here and Lake in the Clouds. When I got that far I caught my foot on a root and I fell so hard I knocked the breath out of me. Took me a couple minutes to get moving again, but before I could go I heard her. Jemima. She had climbed down to sit on the edge of the pond, and she was weeping. The sound of it surprised me so that I couldn’t help myself; I went around to the side where I could see her better, and she was sitting there, bent over for weeping. It was like her heart was being torn out of her, she was shaking and crying so hard.”
“What did you do?”
“I am ashamed to say that the first thought that went through my head was to chunk a rock at her, I was that mad. But I was too worried about Lily, so I ran on home and got Runs-from-Bears. And still I couldn’t get it out of my mind, Jemima weeping like that. It got all mixed up in my head with the things she said about Hannah.”
They sat there in an awkward silence for a while, and then she let out a sigh. “I always had the idea that maybe there was something once between Jemima and Liam Kirby that wasn’t ugly. Just for a day or even an hour. I don’t know how I held on to that idea all these years.” And then, a little sharper: “What were you thinking, that I’d forgive her everything because she shed tears?”
“No,” Daniel said. “I’m just hoping you won’t hold it against me that I was there that day.”
By the time they got home the first fireflies had begun to float over the meadow. The smell of ripening strawberries was in the air, and Martha thought of the bears that would soon come to eat their fill. She would have to keep Hopper on a line for fear he would try to chase them away.
Daniel said, “What are you thinking about?”
“Hopper.” And: “We left him with the little people. Should we—”
“They’ll bring him by tomorrow,” Daniel said.
She didn’t like that idea. Hopper belonged here with them, tonight especially. Tonight she wanted to close the shutters and bar the doors to the rest of the world. It was a childish thought, but she could not shake herself free of it.
From the village came the faraway sputtering of the fi
rst fireworks.
A thought came to Martha and she spoke it before she could stop herself. “What if it’s all a lie? What if she’s not really sick at all?”
Daniel might have tried to calm her fears by reminding her that Hannah would not be so easily fooled. Instead he said, “What would that gain her?”
Martha lifted a shoulder. “She might want us off guard. She might have come for Nicholas and known we wouldn’t give him up. Maybe it’s got something to do with the Bleeding Heart and the orchard. Maybe she plans on kidnapping Nicholas and holding him until she gets what she wants from Callie.”
Daniel said, “Would you feel better if I went to make sure Nicholas is safe? I’ll take Abel and I can be back in an hour or less. Maybe Callie and Ethan will let me bring him back here, if that will keep him out of harm’s way.”
For a long moment Martha tried to convince herself that to send Daniel back to the village after such an exhausting day would be self-indulgent and selfish, but the truth was, she was uneasy. And something else she hadn’t said, and could not say, was that she would be glad of the hour alone. An hour of quiet to try to make sense of the image he had put in her head, of her mother weeping in the deep of the woods on the day she was conceived.
So many of her memories of Jemima had to do with her mother’s determination to get what she needed and wanted at any cost. Curiosity had asked if maybe that wasn’t the worst thing you could accuse a woman of, fighting to survive. But Curiosity didn’t know about what had happened on the bridge that winter.
“Martha?”
“It would be very good of you, if you aren’t too tired.”
Daniel kissed her on the brow, his hand resting lightly on the nape of her neck. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
She was sitting on the porch when he came around from the stable a few minutes later, leading Abel. Daniel’s smile was like a balm, and for a moment she thought of changing her mind and telling him that she was being silly; he needn’t go back to the village again. They could sit together and listen to the fireworks, and then later there was their bed and sleep. She would sleep for a day, and when she woke up her head would be clear. Answers would present themselves.
Instead she said, “Could you bring Hopper home with you too?”
“Whatever you need, darlin’.”
“I need you,” she said, and she managed a smile. “Don’t dawdle.”
He winked at her, her beautiful husband who knew the worst, and who loved her nonetheless. When he was gone, she went inside to wait for him.
Lily’s suspicions about Jennet were proved true just past dark when the fireworks began in the village and Luke came through the door.
He took one look at her and said, “When did the pains start?”
Jennet put out her hands and he pulled her out of her chair. “Och, dinnae fret. I’ve done this before, after all.” She turned her head to wink at Lily over her shoulder.
“I thought you might have started,” Lily said.
“And you kept your questions to yourself, for which I thank you. I’ll be as happy as the next woman when I’ve got this child on the outside of me, but there will be no peace for months to come. This afternoon meant a great deal to me.”
Luke was in the hall calling for Curiosity.
Jennet said, “You could come along, if you like.” And then, in response to the look on Lily’s face, “Aye, and why would you?”
“If you would like me there, I will come and gladly,” Lily said.
Simon came galloping, bursting into the hall like a boy with an excess of energy. He had taken the time to wash at the pump, so that his hair was damp, his face was new scrubbed, and his expression alarmed.
“Lily,” he said, trying not to scowl and failing, “where is it you think you’re going?”
“She’ll stay right where she is, Ballentyne,” Jennet said, one hand supporting her belly. “I’m away to split myself in two. And here’s Curiosity, to help me along.”
“You are very calm,” Lily said to her.
“For the moment, aye. I’ll do my fair share of shouting by morning.”
“You’re going to walk to Downhill House?” Simon looked aghast. “Why not stay here in your own chamber?”
“Don’t look at me,” Luke said. “I’ve got no say in any of this.”
Curiosity said, “That’s right. This is women’s business. Come, Jennet, a walk will move things along nicely and my guess is, the shouting will be over long before morning.” Then she turned and gave Simon a pointed look. “You go on ahead and tell the story that has got to be told.”
Then Lily was alone with Simon, who collapsed next to her on the chaise longue.
“So, my blueberry. Can you tell me why Jennet’s been taken off to Downhill House?”
“Because that’s where Hannah has all her supplies and medications,” Lily said. “That’s where she’ll want me to be when my time comes.”
“And the bairns?”
“They’ll send them all over here for the night,” Lily said. “So they can distract one another from worry about Jennet.”
“And distract us too, forbye.” He put a hand on her belly.
Recently Simon had taken to patting her and waiting for a response, which often came in the form of a solid thump or two. The first time this happened his surprise and delight told Lily that he had been afraid to hope. With that soft thump, he finally realized that this child was coming. Tears had filled his eyes, and that alone made all the worry and discomfort worthwhile.
“Blueberry is sleeping,” she said. “And let’s leave things be. My liver has been mauled enough for one day. Simon, what story was Curiosity talking about?”
He drew in a deep sigh and held it for a moment. His expression alarmed her, and she said so.
“It’s just Jemima,” he said. “She’s back.”
And in response to her sharp look, he told her the rest.
“If I were able,” Lily said when he had finished, “I would march down to the Red Dog and have a word with Jemima, sick or no.”
“Aye,” Simon said. “I ken ye so far, Lily. But we must leave this to the others.”
“It’s our own fault,” Lily said. “We were so surprised to see her again, we all backed down. She shows up and makes demands and carries on and we let her.”
“And if that’s so,” Simon said, “it won’t be the case for long.”
“But she’ll make everyone miserable between now and then. If we let her.”
“Do ye no think,” Simon began slowly, “that it’s Martha’s place to decide how best to act in this case?”
“No,” Lily said. “Martha doesn’t see any of this clearly.”
“And who does?” said Simon. “In the whole Bonner clan, tell me, which of ye sees clearly how best to handle Jemima?”
61
Birdie had no memory of falling asleep. One minute she was stretched out on the floor straining to hear the men talking about things that might be interesting some other time, but which right now only got in the way. She never meant to fall asleep, but the sound of their voices was better than a lullabye and sleep came between her and her good intentions.
When she woke the house was quiet and she was aware of two things: She had slept for a long time and must be missing the dancing, and the men were gone without her ever finding out what exactly was going on. As soon as she sat up a few other facts presented themselves: her legs and arms were covered with scratches from climbing the trellis, and she had a cramp in her neck.
Birdie was halfway down the stairs when she heard people coming back into the kitchen. She sat right down where she was and hoped whoever it was was in a talkative mood, and that they’d stay out of the front hall where any grown-up was bound to ask her a dozen questions.
She heard Curiosity say, “Set there while I get some things together. By and by we’ll get you settled upstairs. How close are the pains?”
Jennet’s voice said, “A quarter hour or so. No g
reat hurry.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Curiosity said, “I hope Hannah is staying away from the Red Dog, but I doubt she will.”
“Jemima will cause as much trouble as she can manage,” Jennet said. “And Hannah is drawn to trouble. We all are, who are of Carryck. It’s in the blood. All ye need to do is look at the little people, and there it is, plain to see.”
Birdie slipped out the front door after a short debate with herself on whether she should stay and help Curiosity until Luke found Hannah and brought her home, or whether she could go down to the Red Dog and find out for herself what it meant that Jemima was back. The fact was, she still did not know what had happened to make all the grownups gather in the middle of the day to talk about it. One thing seemed pretty clear: Something was wrong, and it had to do with Jemima. If that was indeed the case then she, Curiosity-called-Birdie, would just have to step in. It would be the quickest way to the answers that seemed determined to hide themselves.
And she was good at talking to difficult grown-ups. She had developed her methods in Daniel’s classroom, and perfected them at the dinner table.
It would have been useful to know where everybody had gone, because if she ran into Ma or Da or anybody else who considered themselves in a position to order her around, she’d never get to the Red Dog.
She heard the music before she ever got as far as the main road, which meant the dancing was still going on, and that would make things much easier. Every non-Quaker in Paradise would be there. And then it turned out that her ma and da were in the common room at the Red Dog, which brought her up short for all of ten heartbeats. They were here either to talk to Jemima or because they had already talked to her, but there wasn’t any time to waste and so Birdie took herself in hand and found her way around and up by way of the rear stairs.
Pressing her ear to the door gave her no information at all, and so she scratched, very softly. And then more loudly. In response the door thumped as if someone had thrown a book against it.