She took in a deep lungful of the cold, humid air. Donny startled awake. He looked anxiously side-to-side, saw Anna, and relaxed.
“G’ morning,” he said, settling back against the tree.
“Morning,” Anna said. “Or afternoon. The sun was coming up as we were falling asleep. I don’t know how long we’ve been here.”
Donny looked up at the sky. “Can’t tell where the sun is.”
“Yeah, that’s a problem,” Anna said. “I can’t tell what time it is and I can’t tell which way is north.”
“Well, it’s an island, right?” Donny said. “If we just walk in one direction, we’ll find the beach. The beach will take us to Maybelle.”
“It is an island, but I have no idea how big an island it is. It could take days to find the beach, even longer to get back to Saint Frances – and I don’t think we have that much time.”
“Will the sun come out later?”
“I don’t think so. We get these kind of clouds often. Usually, it’s overcast like this for days without a break.”
Donny sighed. “What are we gonna do?”
Anna took another deep breath – the air smelled absolutely wonderful – and smiled. She stretched her legs, then her arms, and stood up. “Come on, Donny.” She offered him her hand and pulled him to his feet.
As he stood, his eyes brightened. “I got an idea. What if you hide an’ I start makin’ a bunch of noise? Those sisters that are searchin’ for you will find me. Then you can juss follow our trail.”
“Donny,” Anna looked at the ground, chuckled, looked back at Donny and shook her head. “The last boy they found out here while looking for me, they killed him on the spot. That was him back there in Joseph’s cistern.”
“I don’t wanna end up down there again,” he said.
“Look, we’ll walk…that direction. It’s clear for a ways. As we go, we’ll adjust our course so that we’re always going downhill. I think that should be the quickest way to the beach.”
Donny smiled. “I like that plan better.” He retrieved the Mason jars from the ground, dumped their rotten contents and handed them to Anna. “Can you put these in your pockets? Mine are full.”
Anna slipped them into her coat, without asking why. The front of Donny’s coat bulged with the jam and a few other things he’d picked up. The back of his coat was gone, probably still snagged on the corner of the hutch. He held the lamp and an alder pole walking stick.
Anna looked at Donny’s face, for the first time seeing him in full daylight. He’s only a child, for Pete’s sake! And a battered child at that. The top of his ear was shredded and crusted-over where Joseph had bit him. A red-black scab topped the purple lump on his forehead. Dark half-moons cradled both eyes.
He caught her staring. “What are you smiling about?”
“I’m glad I met you, Donny Lawson,” she said.
“I’m glad I met you, too,” he looked at the ground, grinning, “Pinky.”
Anna saw him blush, even through the caked dirt on his face. She gave his shoulder a friendly shove and started walking. Donny followed.
They walked in silence for over an hour, listening to the forest, smelling the sweet air. The ancient cedar and fir trees eventually gave way to smaller alders and white-barked birches. As the trees thinned, the ground to their left fell away at a shallow angle. They turned downhill and walked on. Impassable blackberry patches and devil’s club swamps forced them to backtrack uphill a few times, but soon the smell of salt air mingled with the other forest scents.
As they walked, Anna ran her fingers through her hair, picking out leaves and twigs. She also dislodged several shards of glass. She picked more bits of glass from cuts on her hands and forearms. Donny had been right about her skin, not a clean patch on it. I’m going to need some ointment.
“Donny,” she said, “how’d you make those jars explode?”
“It’s the Union Carbide crystals, from the lamp. Mix ‘em with water an’ they make gas,” he said, smiling. “In the lamp, it burns real bright, a bit at a time. But, when it’s in a jar an you bust the jar, it burns all at once. Boom!”
“Wow. That’s really something,” she said. “Do you have any crystals left?”
“Yeah, I got a few. Are those wolves still followin’ us?”
“I’ve seen one. He pops his head out now and then, but I don’t think he’ll give us any more trouble.”
“He’s just keeping track of us, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Do you hear that?” Donny stopped in his tracks, cocking an ear. “I think I hear waves.”
Anna stood still, held her breath and listened. Ahead of them, in the distance, foamy surf rolled and crashed over a pebbly beach. She smiled, even as her heart raced and her chest tightened.
The trees thinned and the underbrush thickened as they drew nearer to the sea. Giant ferns, salmon berry bushes, stinging nettles, skunk cabbages choked access between the woods and the beach. Donny and Anna spent nearly an hour pushing through the final two hundred yards of brush.
When they reached the shore, the ocean spread out before them, restless and immense, the color of milky jade. Under a sagging gray sky, the sea undulated, whipped frothy by a steady wind. Vertigo overtook Anna. She grabbed Donny’s arm and sat them both down on a beached log. Donny sat with her in silence, watching the waves roll in. Mist and icy drizzle hid the horizon, but even so, the vista astounded Anna.
“I always wanted to see the ocean again,” she said, finally. “I’d like, just once, to see it on a clear day, when I’m not hunted, or starving.”
“That’s not too much to ask,” Donny said.
“It goes on forever, you know. Goes to every place in the world. If we had a boat, it would take us anywhere.”
“And without a boat,” Donny said, “it won’t let us go anywhere.”
“We could swim.”
Donny eyed her. “You’d freeze solid before you got past the breakers.”
“Not today, Donny,” Anna said. “Someday, though. When we leave here, someday I want to swim in the ocean.”
“The ocean is warm where I come from. Maybe you can come,” Donny said, “after we leave here.”
Anna stood, bracing against the chill wind. “I feel better now, just needed to catch my breath.”
“Yeah,” Donny said, “me too. Which way is it?”
”I think it’s that way.” Anna pointed to the right. “I’m guessing that both of the farm houses were on the same side of the island, since they both used the same drain for their cisterns.”
“Makes sense to me,” Donny said.
“Well, I ran down the beach and turned left into the forest, so if we leave the forest and turn right at the beach, it should take us back,” she said, “as long as we’re still on the same side.”
“Whether we’re on the same side or not, if it’s an island, either way will get us there.”
“True enough, but this way might get us there today,” Anna said.
Pebbles and sand crunched under their feet as they walked. The low clouds spit thin icy rain, which the wind drove at them sideways. Anna could not see more than a few hundred yards through the rain, but she knew this was not the beach she had ran across the night she escaped. That one had been smooth sand. Rocks and driftwood logs littered this one.
“Do you think we should walk in the woods,” Donny asked, “in case they are still searchin’ for you?”
“We’ll make better time out here. Just keep your ears open for their whistles.”
As the afternoon dragged on, they heard no whistles, only the relentless wind, the churning sea and lonesome seagulls’ cries. Constant spears of icy rain pelted Anna’s left side. Her head ached from the cold. The frigid wind drove the feeling from her left hand and the left side of her face. Her other hand, holding Donny’s, stayed warm. The back of Donny’s shredded coat fluttered and flapped. Beneath it, the rain plastered his white shirt to his back.
Ann
a began to believe that they had gone the wrong way. Her fatigue and hunger and apprehension, along with the element’s incessant lashing, made every hour feel like five. Then, she heard a new sound, a familiar chugging to her left.
Anna tugged Donny’s arm and dragged him, running, into the wood line. They hunkered behind the trunk of a gnarled pine, scanning the ocean. The icy rain stabbed at their cheeks and eyes. It acted as a gray curtain, obscuring the source of the chugging, but Donny recognized it at once.
“It’s the boat,” he said, “the one they threw me out of. Do you think they’re searchin’ for you?”
“No, they’re too far off shore,” she said. “Why would they be out in this weather?”
“You wanna flag ‘em down and ask?”
She flashed him a reproving glare. He looked as miserable as she felt. His lips trembled, a ghastly pale purple. The bruised knot against his wet white forehead looked like a green-purple yolk on a fried egg.
The chugging grew louder, passing their location, and continuing north. At its closest point, its green bow light and the faint outline of the little steamer’s cabin materialized out of the fog. Then it passed and the misty, brittle rain swallowed it once more.
“Guess that means we’re prob’ly headed the right way,” Donny said, trying to sound chipper.
“Guess so.”
“Does it seem darker to you?”
“It’s just because we’re in the woods,” she assured him.
The woods were very dark indeed. She had hoped to reach her girls before nightfall. But now, the rain had washed all the courage out of her. What are you thinking? By the time you get there, you’ll both be dead of pneumonia. You don’t even have a plan, do you?
A scruffy black crow cawed at them from a branch above their heads, then launched, flying for shelter deeper in the woods. Fat, cold baubles of rain, released by the crow’s departure, splattered on and around the two orphans.
“Donny…” she started.
“I’m goin’, Anna. It’s the only thing to do.” He forced the words out, mumbling through numb lips.
She heard desperation in his voice. He was trying to persuade himself as much as he was trying to convince her. She might even be able to talk him out of this insane rescue mission. But if she did, he would hate her for the rest of his life. You would hate you for the rest of your life, her other voice said, as bitter as it had ever been, not that the rest of your life will be very long.
“I’m going, too,” she said. “You can’t stop me.”
The corners of his purple lips twitched slightly up, gratitude filling his eyes.
“We’re both going.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. He relaxed into her embrace. “But we can’t go like this. This rain will kill us before we even get there. We are going to curl up in a dry spot, eat some jam, rest for a spell. Maybe the weather will dry up a bit.”
He resisted, at first, tried to pull away, but she held him tight and, a moment later, he complied. They trudged into the forest along a game trail, trembling and huddled together. Don’t go too far in, she warned herself, keep the sea within earshot…
And, suddenly she recognized the trail. Just ahead of them, a low cliff rose about four feet from the forest floor. The bluff created a slight overhang, a wall of dirt and roots and rocks shaped like a cresting wave. Over this cliff, a large fir tree had toppled, forming a perfect natural shelter.
“Come on, I know this place!” She pulled Donny faster.
He stumbled forward, startled by her sudden enthusiasm.
“This is where I hid on the night I escaped! This means we’re very, very close.” She pushed aside the boughs of the fallen fir and pulled Donny into the den beneath. “We’ll be dry and warm in here.”
“We shouldn’t leave Maybelle…” he trailed off, mumbling. Then, “Amma? I think I might have hydrophobia…or hyperthermia…the one where you get too cold to think.”
“Maybe it’s hypochondria. The doc said that’s what my mom had,” Anna said. “Actually, I have no idea what any of those words mean, but if there’s a condition where a body gets too cold to think, you probably got it.”
Anna squeezed into the crevice with Donny. Sheltered from the rain and the cutting wind, she felt warmer already. She also felt a guilty reprieve from the daunting task ahead.
“Open that jar of jam,” she said. “We’ll save some for your sister, I promise, but we need to eat.”
Donny fumbled around his pocket. His hand flopped like wet spaghetti. After what seemed like a ridiculously long time, and by using both hands, he managed to produce the jam.
“Yer gonna hava opennit,” he mumbled. He tried to hand her the jar but dropped it into her lap instead.
“Are you okay, Donny?” The crevice under the fir tree had grown very dark. She could barely see his face.
“I’m not cold anymore, just sleepy,” he said. Only, it came out I’mot cole amymore jusssleepy
He is going to die, the other Anna said. Just like Madeline…and Erma…and Alice. No food and no blankets gets you dead little girls and boys.
“Donny! No sleeping, not yet. You have to eat first.” She cranked on the lid of the Mason jar. It stuck tight, then slowly turned with a gritty grinding sound.
“Spud?” he mumbled.
Anna smelled the jam. Sweet, mouth-achingly tart blackberries, a hundred summers old but still wonderful. Her belly cramped at the aroma. “No, Donny, this is better. Just eat a bit. Then you can sleep.”
Donny replied with an inarticulate grunt.
Anna scooped a glob of jam with her fingers, good thing it’s too dark to see how grimy those fingers are, and pushed it into Donny’s half open mouth.
He smacked his lips, mumbling, and swallowed. Anna repeated the process twice more, taking small bites herself while he swallowed his. On the fourth attempt, the jam slipped out of his lips and plopped to the ground. He’d had all he was going to have. Either it’s enough…or it isn’t.
Through the boughs, Anna saw night had fallen. Wind rustled the trees overhead. She could not be sure whether the rain still fell, but assumed it did. The temperature inside their shelter was much warmer than outside, but she was still chilly. If I’m cold, it’s not warm enough for him to recover.
“I need you to live, Donny.”
His lips moved but no sound came. A terrible déjà vu took her, remembering her brother’s mumbling, soundless lips from her dream.
“I don’t want to go back in there by myself.”
No response.
“I don’t know if I can.”
She put her hand on his chest. It was cold and, for a moment, motionless. Then, his ribs slowly expanded. A moment later, they shrunk back as he exhaled.
“I’d rather die here with you than go back in there alone.”
She took off her heavy coat, intending to drape it over both of them. A metallic clink caught her attention. In the darkness, a straight silver edge gleamed. Anna reached down and felt the lamp.
It gets hot. When it’s lit, it’s too hot to touch.
She rummaged in Donny’s coat pocket for the crystals. A steady trickle of runoff just at the edge of her shelter provided the water. When she hit the striker, the lamp popped like a flashbulb and went out. On her second attempt, it lit. She closed the cover, wrapped it in her shawl and cradled it in Donny’s arms on his lap.
Then she snuggled up to him as tight as she could and draped her coat over them both.
She closed her eyes and prayed. In five years with the nuns, she had only prayed twice. Both times, it had been here, under this tree. On the night of her escape, she prayed that the rocks and hills would cover her. That prayer had been answered. Tonight, she prayed many things, but most especially, she prayed that, one way or the other, this would be her last night on the island.
Chapter 2
Anna dreamt she returned to The Saint Frances de Chantal Orphan Asylum. She stood before the door to her dormitory. Her girls were dead. All of
them. Just like Donny.
No food and no blankets gets you dead little girls and boys.
If a child will not work, neither let him eat.
Being Anna’s friend is a bad idea.
She didn’t want to see them dead, but could not turn away. Her hand, of its own accord, inserted the key into its hole. Anna begged not to see her girls dead, but the key turned and the door swung open. She willed her eyes to close, but they would not.
Beyond the door they lay, still as stone, arranged on the bare floor in two neat rows, oldest to youngest. Their black leather shoes glimmered in the pale light, all else was dull gray.
Anna woke with a start. White fog had replaced the previous day’s wind and rain. Eerie silence floated on the fog, giving the morning an unreal, dream-like cast. Gull cries penetrated the unnatural hush, but their distant, ethereal quality reinforced the surreal atmosphere.
Anna held as still as the morning, listening. Nothing stirred beyond the fallen fir. Nothing stirred beneath it, either. She felt detached from her body. Her body and Donny’s and the coat and the dirt and the tree were a single lump of matter.
She wondered if they had died during the night. The thought was a relief.
Then Donny snored.
Anna breathed again. I’m not done yet. With an intentional effort, she twitched the fingers on the hand she’d curled around Donny’s shoulder. They were still her fingers, life still coursed through them.
She squeezed his shoulder, flexed her arm, hugging him. “Donny, you still with me?”
He snorted, then looked up at her, questioning. Some color had returned to his face. The bags under his eyes were only half as horrible as they had been the night before. The eyes themselves, though confused, sparkled with life.
“Hi, Anna,” he said. “Where are we?”
“Don’t you remember?” she asked. “We are very close. Nothing but a fifteen minute walk from here, I think. How are you feeling?”
Sisters of Sorrow Page 15