Children of Eternity Omnibus

by P. T. Dilloway

  Miss Brigham took Samantha on a narrow path out of the pasture and into the forest. They stopped at the edge of a beach overlooking churning gray water. Miss Brigham sat down on a rock, folding her hands in her lap. Samantha found a log nearby to sit on and tried to sit as calmly as Miss Brigham, but her right foot kept twitching on its own.

  Among a cluster of boulders, she saw the prow of a wooden boat. “Whose boat is that?” she asked.

  “That belongs to Mr. Pryde. He uses it on occasion for hunting trips to the mainland.”

  “I thought you said the mainland was dangerous.”

  “It’s very dangerous indeed, but Mr. Pryde can take care of himself.” Miss Brigham pointed to an empty section of beach about fifty feet away. “He found you over there. You were naked as a newborn and half-mad with fever. I didn’t think you would live out the night.”

  Samantha stood and went over to stand on the spot, hoping it would spark her memory. Nothing happened. She looked out at the sea, seeing nothing but gray water all the way to the horizon. “That’s where I came from,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” Miss Brigham said. “But the mainland is a very large and terrible place.”

  “Can’t you or Mr. Pryde take me over there?”

  “I’m afraid not, dear. The reverend would never allow it.”

  “Why not? Doesn’t he want me to find my parents?”

  “Of course he does, dear. But Reverend Crane would never risk your life by sending you over there. Even with Mr. Pryde we couldn’t guarantee your safety.” Miss Brigham looked down at the ground and wrung her hands. “Samantha, I know how much you want to find your family, but you must be patient. You must not think of disobeying Reverend Crane. He deals harshly with those who challenge his authority. If you try to escape, Mr. Pryde will not rest until he’s brought you back for punishment.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I committed a terrible sin once. I felt so awful I took that very boat over to the mainland so I could atone for what I did. Mr. Pryde found me and brought me back.”

  “What did the reverend do to you?”

  Miss Brigham put a hand to her face to stem the tears that had begun to flow. “He took from me what was most precious,” she said. “Please, dear, promise you won’t try to leave until the reverend has found your family.”

  “I promise,” Samantha said. She sat with Miss Brigham to watch the tide go out; they said nothing more to each other. As Samantha stared at the gray water, she promised herself she would not attempt to escape until she’d given the reverend enough time to find her parents. She owed Miss Brigham that.

  Chapter 12: The Woodsmen

  Samantha slept in Miss Brigham’s cottage that night. The same nightmares of being trapped in the dark haunted her. Only this time, she emerged in the church and saw Prudence’s arm hanging uselessly at her side and Helena’s face covered in blood. “Savage!” they chanted as one. Along with the other children, they advanced upon her to take their revenge.

  She awoke screaming and flailing her arms to fight off unseen attackers. Miss Brigham grabbed her, wrestling with her until she woke up. “It’s only a dream, dear,” Miss Brigham whispered over and over again. She cradled Samantha’s head against her chest and stroked her hair as she said this.

  “I’m sorry,” Samantha said. “I wish I could make it stop.”

  “I know, dear. It’s all right. I have some clean clothes right here and there’s enough room in my bed.”

  “I don’t want to wet your bed too,” Samantha said. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. You follow me this instant, young lady,” Miss Brigham said. Samantha did as she was told, crawling out of bed and changing into a fresh nightgown and underwear. As she did, she worried about what would happen if this continued to happen every night. How long could someone go without sleep before going crazy?

  Miss Brigham’s bed was twice the size of hers and soft instead of rough like the straw pallets the girls slept on in the dormitories. “It was a gift from the reverend,” Miss Brigham explained. “It’s stuffed with goose feathers.”

  “I don’t want to ruin something so nice,” Samantha said.

  She tried to get out of bed, but Miss Brigham grabbed her arm. “Young lady, you lie down and go to sleep. There is nothing to worry about.”

  Samantha closed her eyes, but couldn’t sleep. Before morning came, Samantha swore to herself she wouldn’t get into any more trouble. She would become the girl Reverend Crane and Miss Brigham wanted her to be. And she would somehow find a way to make up for what she’d done to Prudence and Helena. Maybe she could volunteer to do chores for them, although she didn’t have any idea how to use the loom. Well, there had to be other things she could do to help.

  When the light changed from gray to orange, Samantha rolled out of Miss Brigham’s comfortable bed to fix breakfast for her teacher. In the cupboards she found only a jar of raspberry preserves and a plate of leftover bread. It would have to do.

  The jar of preserves wouldn’t open. Samantha strained and grunted, but the lid didn’t come off. What good is a jar that doesn’t open? she thought. With this, she felt a surge of strength and the lid popped off with the sound of a gunshot. Some of the preserves splattered over the front of Samantha’s nightgown and face. Miss Brigham sat up in bed at the sound, a gasp escaping her lips. Then she rushed over to Samantha, her eyes wild. “What did you do? Let me see it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Samantha said. She held out the jar of preserves to Miss Brigham, who looked as if she’d seen a ghost. She pressed Samantha close to her again, the preserves staining her nightgown as well.

  “It’s all right, dear. Come and sit down.” They ate what remained of the preserves and bread along with some lukewarm water. Samantha chewed her breakfast without any joy, having turned something as simple as opening a jar into a disaster. Everywhere she went, trouble followed in her wake.

  She volunteered to clean up the mess she’d made, scrubbing preserves from off the floor and walls. Miss Brigham fetched clean clothes and together they went down to the stream to bathe. This time Samantha stayed close to the shore. As she stood in the water, she avoided looking at her reflection.

  After they dried off, Miss Brigham combed Samantha’s hair—a far easier process than two days before—and pulled it back into a pair of braids. “You look adorable,” Miss Brigham said. She coaxed Samantha into looking at her reflection. Samantha backed away from the water a second later.

  “I look like a baby,” she said.

  “I think you look very grown up. Give it a chance, dear.” Samantha doubted this, but didn’t see any choice in the matter. After what had happened already this morning she didn’t want to hurt Miss Brigham’s feelings.

  When they got back to the cottage, Samantha sat down at Miss Brigham’s desk and opened the oversized Bible. “For today you need only read about creation and the Garden of Eden. We’ll discuss it after lunch,” Miss Brigham said.

  Samantha dutifully started to read from the Bible. Right away she had questions, but Miss Brigham had already gone to attend to the other girls. How could God make everything in six days? she wondered. She went over to the window and looked out at the trees, plants, and clouds outside. She didn’t see how all of that could have been made in six days.

  She sat down and read the rest of her assigned reading. Poor Adam and Eve getting kicked out of paradise for eating a silly apple. It was one stupid apple; why couldn’t God forgive them? She made a note to ask Miss Brigham about this after lunch. Since she still had time, she flipped through the Bible, studying the colorful pictures of a boy and a giant, a man surrounded by lions, and a man riding a chariot into the sky.

  Miss Brigham returned with a pitcher of milk and a plate of biscuits. The biscuits had as little taste as the bread. “How was class?” Samantha asked.

  “It went very well. We had an interesting discussion about the importance of hard work.”

  “Wh
at about Prudence and Helena?”

  “They are both doing fine, dear. Prudence asked to come by later. I think she’s worried about you, that darling girl. She has a heart as big as her stomach.”

  Samantha decided to take this as a compliment about Prudence and not as an insult about her weight. “I’d like to see her,” Samantha said. “I wish there was something I could do to make up for what I did to her…and Helena.”

  “Prudence needs a friend more than anything. I think that’s the best thing you could do for her.” Miss Brigham shivered then and threw a log into the hearth. “Samantha, be a dear and ask one of the boys to fetch some firewood.”

  “Yes, Miss Brigham.” Samantha went outside and followed the path to the meadow and then down to the woodshed. She found an axe resting against a stump and a bundle of logs waiting to be split, but no boys around to finish the job.

  How hard could it be? she thought. She centered a log onto a tree stump and then picked up the axe, stumbling back a step at the weight of it. Her first swing went wide, slicing into the stump instead of the log. Before trying again, she choked up on the handle for better control. This time she split the log right down the middle.

  She repeated this for another five logs, splitting each dead center. She got so caught up in the simple rhythm of woodcutting that she forgot about returning the wood to Miss Brigham. She finished off the rest of the logs and then looked around for more. “What are you doing?” a boy’s voice shouted.

  She turned around and saw Wendell stomping towards her. “Girls can’t cut wood!” he said, his voice getting louder.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone would mind.” She started to pick up some of the logs she’d split to carry back to Miss Brigham, but Wendell ripped them from her hands. “What are you doing? Those are for Miss Brigham.”

  “Girls can’t carry wood either!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because boys are stronger than girls.”

  “I’m stronger than you.”

  “Are not.”

  “Are so.” To prove her point, she reached down and grabbed Wendell by the waist. She hoisted him over her shoulder, ignoring his feeble punches and kicks.

  “Put me down!” he wailed.

  “Not until you admit I’m stronger than you.”

  “No!” With this she spun around and around until her head felt like it would float away. Wendell screamed, latching onto one of her braids and tugging as hard as he could. Finally he shouted, “All right, you win! Now put me down!”

  She fell to her knees, giggling as the world spun. To her surprise, she saw Wendell wiping away tears. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not fair,” he said. “Chopping wood is my job. Stupid girls aren’t supposed to do it.”

  Wendell turned away so she couldn’t see him crying, but she could still hear his sniffling. When she put a hand on his shoulder, he swatted it away. She tightened her grip and turned him to face her. “Wendell, could you carry this wood to Miss Brigham’s for me?” Instantly Wendell’s tears dried up and a smile came to his face. He got to his feet and began gathering up a pile of logs as big as himself. Samantha bit down on her lip to keep from laughing. As Wendell started out towards Miss Brigham’s cottage with his towering load, Samantha couldn’t hold back a smile. At least she’d done one thing right today.

  Chapter 13: The Trapdoor

  They made it to the meadow when Samantha heard Wendell shout followed by the sound of his logs tumbling to the ground. She assumed he’d stumbled and spilled his load, but when she climbed up to the meadow, she saw a pair of older boys looming over him. One was John, the dark-haired boy from church. “You’re not supposed to carry the firewood. You’re just supposed to stack it,” a blond boy about Samantha’s age said.

  John poked Wendell in the chest. “You’re too weak to carry the firewood. That’s why the reverend gave the job to us.”

  “I can too carry it. I carried it all the way up here,” Wendell said. He tried to gather up some of the firewood, but the blond boy kicked it away from him.

  “What’s going on here?” Samantha asked.

  “It’s none of your business,” John said.

  “He was helping me take the wood to Miss Brigham so it is my business,” Samantha said.

  “He’s doing our job. The reverend assigned us to haul the firewood, not this weakling,” the blond boy said.

  “Then where were you two?”

  “We had to carry some over to the kitchen. You should have waited until we got back.”

  “I can’t keep Miss Brigham waiting all day. I don’t see what difference it makes who carries the stupid firewood as long as it gets there.”

  “It’s our job. Not his.”

  “Wendell didn’t mean any harm. Leave him alone.”

  “Why don’t you go wet yourself and let us handle this,” John said and took a menacing step towards her. He stood a head taller than Samantha and weighed twenty pounds more, all of it muscle. Still, she didn’t back away.

  “Wendell and I are going to deliver this firewood to Miss Brigham,” she said. She folded her arms across her chest and planted her feet in the meadow’s soft grass.

  “No you aren’t,” John said. “Now get out of here before you get hurt.”

  Samantha stood her ground. When John swung at her with his left arm, she grabbed his wrist without thinking and flipped him to the ground behind her. Then she turned to the blond boy and said, “Do you want to be next?” The blond boy looked first at his partner and then at her before running down the hill to the safety of the barn.

  “Are you all right?” she asked Wendell.

  John got to his feet and tried to take Samantha by surprise with a punch aimed at the back of her head. She ducked under the blow and then stuck out her right leg, sending John crashing to the ground next to Wendell. Before John could roll back to his feet, Samantha jumped on his back, pinning him to the ground. She twisted his left arm behind his back and said, “Go on, say it.”

  “Fine, carry the stupid firewood. We didn’t want to anyway,” John said.

  She let John up and examined his arm. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. I’m fine,” he said.

  “Good. Maybe now you’ve learned your lesson about picking on people.” She poked John in the chest and added, “If I find out you touched Wendell later, I will hurt you.”

  “All right, I get the point.”

  “Now run along. I’m sure more people need firewood.”

  John’s mouth twitched as if he wanted to say something, but he took off after his comrade instead.

  Samantha knelt down beside Wendell, wiping the tears from his eyes. “They won’t bother you now.”

  “I could have handled them!” he shouted.

  “I’m sure you could have,” she said. She helped him to his feet and then they gathered up the fallen wood. This time she took half of it; he didn’t protest this.

  As they walked through the forest, Wendell stomped along; Samantha wondered if he was mad at her or the other boys. “It’s not fair!” he said at last.

  “What isn’t?”

  “I’m big enough to carry the firewood. I keep asking Miss Brigham to talk to the reverend, but I don’t think she does. Everyone thinks I’m a baby.” He spun around, his face so red she thought he might burst into flames. “I’m not. I don’t need you or anyone else to protect me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She thought of Helena teasing her about wetting the bed and her reaction to Miss Brigham braiding her hair this morning. “I don’t think you’re a baby at all. I think you’re a big, strong boy.”

  “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, I mean it. Why else would I let you carry the firewood?” she asked. As he considered this, the red in his cheeks faded to pink.

  “Then why didn’t you let me fight them?”

  “Well,” Samantha began and then stopped to think of a plausible explanation. “I wanted to even the odds. Two a
gainst one isn’t very fair.”

  “They don’t scare me.” His back straightened and as he started down the path he carried himself with more confidence. Samantha had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing.

  He led the way through town, looking from one side to the other as though he were leading a victory parade. She supposed it was a victory for him to be allowed to carry the wood into town. She hoped Miss Brigham didn’t get too upset with him; she didn’t know what she could do then to comfort him.

  But Miss Brigham was not in the cottage. Wendell dumped the wood in a pile next to the hearth followed by Samantha. Then he began to stack it into a neat pile with the efficiency of an expert. “You’re really good at stacking,” she said. “I couldn’t ever do it so well myself.”

  “That’s because you’re a girl,” he said. He stuck his tongue out at her and then strutted towards the door. When Samantha reached out to grab him, he ran. He paused in the doorway to say, “You are pretty nice. For a girl.”

  Samantha watched him run off, shaking her head and smiling. Since Miss Brigham had still not arrived, she took a couple logs off Wendell’s expert pile to stoke the fire. Warmth flooded the cottage right away. She took a seat at Miss Brigham’s table, where she found a note written in elaborate cursive script. “Went to see Reverend Crane. Will return shortly,” the note read. What am I supposed to do now? Samantha wondered.

  She saw a broom in the corner and decided to sweep up all the wood chips from where Wendell had dumped the wood. Boys are so messy, she thought as she swept. She didn’t really mind, though; she thought Wendell an adorable little boy. Even those other two weren’t so bad once they knew who was in charge. Maybe Miss Brigham would let her look after the boys. She definitely had a talent for that.

  When she finished sweeping around the hearth, she decided she might as well do the rest of the cottage. She dragged the table into a corner and stacked the chairs up. Lastly, she rolled up a rough gray rug in the center of the room. As she did, she saw it had been hiding something.