Bitter, Sweet

by Laura Best

  Pru pulled up on the old leather strap until the hatch opened up. She propped the pole up to keep it open. She was as frightened of knocking the pole down on her way out and getting hit in the head with the hatch as she was of climbing down into the pitch-black cellar. Choosing her footing carefully, she stepped down the steep, narrow stairway, which was little more than a ladder. Mama had always urged caution whenever one of them went into the cellar for something.

  Making it to the bottom of the steps, Pru waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. She didn’t want to make a mad dash and trip over an empty crock, even though she was anxious to get the preserves and crawl back out into the light of the kitchen.

  Certain of the cobwebs that clung to the ceiling, Pru tried not to think about the spiders crouched deep into the corners of the cellar, ready to spring upon some unsuspecting prey. Her greatest fear, however, was the discovery of a mouse—or even worse, a rat—scurrying along one of the beams or on the floor by her feet. She knew there were mice in the house. She’d seen their drop–pings in the pantry and some nights she could hear the distinct sounds of something gnawing. When that happened, she would fling the blankets up over her head to keep out the sound. Jesse had set a trap in the cellar a week before, but it was empty and sitting next to the wall. A shudder passed through Pru as she continued her way to the preserves, using the light from the open hatch to see her way to the shelf.

  Above her, Pru could hear Jesse’s voice. He was talking to Davey and Flora, ordering them to listen was more like it. Jesse said he didn’t like them running through the house unsupervised, not with the law outside their door. He thought they should sit in the living room and be quiet, but Pru knew better. Davey and Flora were too young to remain seated for long. It was hard enough get–ting them to sit still in school, let alone expecting them to do the same at home. When she heard the sound of little feet running across the floor, Pru figured Jesse had finally given in and allowed Davey and Flora to run free, something they’d been moaning to do for hours.

  Finally the shelves came into focus. Pru was surprised at how many full jars were still lined up on the shelf. She usually sent Jesse or Davey down to the cellar when she needed something—they didn’t seem to mind climbing down into a mouse-infested dungeon. They had all worked so hard last year at picking berries and tending to the vegetable garden. Last spring when he was cleaning out his own cellar, Reese had given them his mother’s mason jars to use to preserve their harvest, and there had also been some in the house when they’d moved in.

  Mama had stressed the importance of preserving berries when they were in season. “Nothing will taste better than blueberries or strawberries in the dead of winter,” she had said. Well, this wasn’t the dead of winter, but Pru had no doubts that they would taste just as good. Unable to distinguish what was in the jars, Pru chose two from the shelf.

  As she turned back toward the steps, Pru heard a tremendous crash up above her. What sounded like a stampede of footsteps stormed across the floor. This was followed by a knocking and banging that seemed to shake the entire house.

  “Hurry up, Pru!” she heard Davey’s voice echoing down into the cellar.

  “What is it?” she cried. “What’s going on?”

  “They’re at the back door!” came the reply. “They’re trying to break it down!”

  Pru could hear someone trying repeatedly to get into the house, with little success. Jesse had barricaded the door shut. But what if they succeeded in breaking it down? She could hear Jesse calling out and he sounded angry.

  “I’m going to start shooting!” she heard Jesse shout.

  Panic ripped through the fabric of Pru’s being. With a swift movement her imagination leaped into places so dark and frightening that she could scarcely catch her breath. Another crash followed.

  This time Pru was immersed in total blackness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I screamed for Davey to open the hatch. I wasn’t even sure if he could open it, as heavy as it was. The darkness was all-consuming. A crushing fear curled up inside me and wouldn’t leave. I had no idea which way to turn. More muffled sounds came from above, along with the occasional thump and the clump, clump, clumping of feet. Then I heard Flora’s long drawn-out scream and it nearly caused my heart to grow cold. Something had happened, something horrible. Flora needed me. Jesse and Davey needed me. They all needed me. The sound of feet running across the floor above me gave way to a feeling of sudden and desperate urgency. I had to get out!

  I could hear Flora crying and I knew Jesse would not know how to make her stop. I had done it so many times after Mama died, when Flora would wake in the night sobbing uncontrollably. But Jesse did not know any of this. He did not know the special noise I made to quiet Flora or the way to get Flora’s mind off what was troubling her. He did not have my tender touch.

  I could hear Davey yelling from the other side of the hatch. “Pull it up!” I shouted.

  “The strap broke. I can’t open it. I’m trying, Pru. I’m trying!” came Davey’s muffled cry.

  I couldn’t just stand there in the dark. I had to get out. But which way should I go? Little steps or big steps? Think, Pru, think. But it was as difficult to think as it was to breathe. The darkness began to close in around me, as if a heavy cloak of doom had settled on my shoulders. I knew I had to move, but I was afraid of the very act of moving in complete darkness. If I could just make it to the hatch, I could help push it open. Closing my eyes, I tried to envision the cellar, picturing where the preserve shelf stood, where the earthenware crocks were sitting, where the steps leading out would be. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and my chest ached as I let out two quick gasps, determined not to cry. Never in my life would I have imagined such total and utter darkness. Think, Pru, think. But the only thought that came to my mind in that moment was that “If only…” game we used to play with Mama.

  “If only I had some light,” I whispered, hoping by some miracle that my wishes would turn into reality. And wouldn’t that be the simplest thing in the world? But things are never that simple and I knew it. I had gone over that fact many times while Mama was sick.

  I could hear Flora’s muffled wailing from up above as her screams turned into tears. Desperate to help, I took a small step forward, knowing I had to do something. Sliding my feet along the bottom of the cellar, I felt my way along. Easy does it. Another step and another and I felt my foot touch the decomposed boards on the cellar floor. I was making progress. I could still hear Davey struggling to open the hatch.

  “If only I had some light,” I said again, this time louder to give myself courage. I thought about how courageous Mama had been all the while she was sick. Hearing my voice so loud and strong filled me with a renewed sense of optimism. I would make it out one way or another. I had to.

  Then I thought I heard someone call my name. I stopped in my tracks and listened.

  “Pru…Pru.”

  “Who’s there?” I asked, feeling my body trembling.

  “I’m here beside you,” the voice whispered, filling the darkness with a melodic vibration that hummed like the strings of a violin. This time there was no mistaking it. I felt my knees go weak and nearly dropped the jars of preserves.

  “Mama!” I gasped. “Is it you, Mama? Are you here?” It was Mama’s voice in the dark with me. It had to be. And yet it couldn’t be. I waited for a reply but none came. Still, I hadn’t been mistaken. I’d heard a voice and the voice was Mama’s and she was calling my name.

  “Do you remember our day in the woods, Pru—just you and me?”

  “Yes, Mama, I remember.”

  I closed my eyes and thought of the day Mama and I had gone to search for gold thread. I remembered the peaceful feeling that had come over me while we stood listening to the sounds all around us. I quieted my breathing and thought on it with everything I had. I remembered how Mama had asked me that day if I could feel Gran Hannah’s strength and wisdom and how uncertain I had been at the
time. As I stood in the dark with my eyelids clenched tight, concentrating on that day, I felt a warm hand touch my cheek, a touch so soft that it sent a shiver down my spine. I realized in that moment that I was no longer afraid.

  “You can trust Uncle Tom. I want you to tell Jesse it’s okay to trust Uncle Tom,” came a soft whisper.

  Suddenly, a fracture of light entered the darkness as the hatch door opened. “I got it!” cried Davey.

  “Mama…Mama,” I whispered, but there was no reply. It was as if a bubble had just burst; the magic that Mama’s voice had brought was suddenly gone.

  “I’m coming, Davey. I’m on my way,” I called out as I etched my way toward daylight.

  When I emerged from the cellar I found Jesse in the living room, Flora cradled in his arms. Flora was sobbing quietly. Davey was bouncing around looking as though he didn’t know what to do.

  Jesse looked up and saw me standing in the doorway. “What took you so long?” he asked.

  “I’ll tell you later,” I promised, knowing there was no time to go into details now.

  “Pru!” Flora cried out the moment she saw me. She wiggled out of Jesse’s arms and began to hobble her way across the room. I ran to meet her and in one swift movement swept her off the floor and into my arms.

  “Let’s see what happened to you.”

  “The step, Flora went though that rickety step,” said Jesse, sounding full of disgust. “I knew we couldn’t trust the police to wait for Reese. They tried to break down the back door and now Flora’s gone and busted her foot.” How could so much have happened in those few short minutes when I was in the cellar getting preserves? I set Flora on the chesterfield.

  “Now close your eyes and make a wish,” I said, slowly removing Flora’s stocking. Flora did as she was told, but the moment I began to remove the stocking she winced. “Oops, it came off,” I said, waving the stocking in front of Flora. “You must have made the right wish.”

  I asked Jesse to get a wet cloth. The only thing I could do to help Flora’s foot was apply a cold compress. I hoped the well water would be cold enough to do the trick—it was all we had. I could hear Jesse working the handle of the pump up and down, and then a steady stream of water coming out of the pump.

  I looked down at Flora. “See now, we’ll patch you up better than new,” I said and the smile returned to her face.

  “I didn’t mean to break the step, but the police were trying to get in and Jesse said for us to hide and then he said he’d shoot if they didn’t go,” she said. “And Pru?”

  “Yes, Flora.”

  “I wished for the step to be fixed.”

  “Don’t worry about that silly step,” I assured her. “It needs to be replaced anyway.” Poor Flora, if only things were as easy to fix as that broken step would be. Again I wondered just how this would come out in the end.

  I placed the cold cloth on Flora’s ankle. “We could really use some yarrow about now,” I said.

  “Like the day Mama hurt herself on the step?” asked Flora. How surprised I was that Flora had remembered the day Mama had sent me out to pick yarrow.

  “That’s right, Flora. Yarrow!” I said happily. “It’s a treatment for bruises and swelling. I thought I forgot but I remembered! And there’s juniper gum, for cuts and sores; burdock, for stomach ailments; and gold thread too.” I kissed Flora on the top of her head, thrilled that she had suddenly jogged my memory. It was all coming back, all the things Mama had told me about the plants on our outings in the woods, the things that Gran Hannah had passed on to her. Mama was right; I could feel Gran Hannah’s wisdom. It was somewhere deep inside me, along with her secrets. Now I know what Mama meant.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Pru spooned the blueberry preserves into four bowls and passed them around. She could not imagine being trapped inside the house much longer, especially not with everyone on the outside coaxing and pleading for them to come out and thinking that Jesse might do something so silly as to shoot at them. Only they didn’t know Jesse. They all thought they did—the policemen who pulled out their guns and made ready to shoot, the minister who prayed for them, the neighbours who had hardly bothered to say hello whenever they saw Jesse at Hurley’s store. Not even Mrs. McFarland. Especially not Mrs. McFarland. Jesse was no danger to any of them and yet they did not see it that way.

  Both Davey and Flora were filled with questions as to why Reese hadn’t returned, and Davey began to state the things that Reese would do once he finally came back, as if Reese possessed some special powers to make everything better. Davey ended it with, “When Reese brings Uncle Tom back they’ll both show them.”

  “Maybe Uncle Tom won’t come,” said Flora, sounding depressed at the thought.

  Pru watched Jesse scrape the last of the blueberries from his bowl. She knew he still wasn’t pleased at the thought that they had to ask Uncle Tom for help.

  “We’ll see once Reese gets back,” said Jesse, sounding quite pessimistic.

  “You don’t think Uncle Tom will come, do you?” asked Pru.

  “He might, and then he might not,” said Jesse. Standing, he moved back toward the window and pulled the curtain aside.

  Pru gathered up the blueberry-stained bowls and took them into the kitchen. She did not bother to wash them, as there seemed no point in it. For a time she stood by the sink holding the dirty bowls and recalling what had happened earlier when she was trapped in the cellar. She thought once again about the day Mama had taken her out into the woods and how Mama had said she could sometimes hear Gran Hannah’s voice and feel her touch. Was it really Mama she’d heard down in the cellar or had she just conjured the words she thought Mama might say in her head? It was difficult to say. Should she tell Jesse what had happened? Or would he just laugh? As she set the dishes in the sink she heard Jesse anxiously calling for her.

  “It’s Reese’s car coming over the hill!” cried Jesse. Davey and Flora were standing in front of Jesse, clapping their hands and jumping up and down. Pru hurried to look out the window. Sure enough, down the hill came Reese’s green Chevrolet.

  “Did he bring Uncle Tom?” asked Flora.

  “There’s somebody in the car with him!” exclaimed Pru as she watched Reese’s car slow down. Surely it was Uncle Tom. Reese had come through for them again; he’d convinced Uncle Tom to come help!

  Reese parked his Chevrolet in front of the black and white RCMP car and jumped out. He said a few words to the policemen and then motioned for the person in his car to get out. The Burbidges all stood at the window waiting to see what was about to take place. It seemed to Pru as she watched the two men approach that everything was happening in slow motion. Reese led the way, followed by the passenger of the car, and behind them the two police–men. The curious onlookers moved slowly forward, as if they were realizing that something pivotal was about to take place and were afraid they might be left out.

  When Reese and the others got halfway to the house, one of the policemen spoke. “Are you willing to talk, Jesse?” he asked.

  Jesse did not move right away but stood as if frozen in one place. He looked at Pru and nodded gravely then looked down at Davey and Flora. They were looking up at him with anxious expressions. Jesse moved toward the front door and opened it a crack.

  “What do you want?” he called out.

  “Will you talk to Reese Buchanan?” asked the police officer.

  Just then Reese took a few steps forward. “We need to end this, Jesse,” he said.

  “What’s he want?” asked Jesse, motioning toward the man who arrived with Reese.

  Stepping out in plain view, the man called out, “It’s Tom, your Uncle Tom. I’m here to help. I know you don’t know me, but Issy was my sister. Family has to stick together.”

  “Yeah, well you should have thought about that before you stole Nanny Gordon’s house away from us!” shouted Jesse, slamming the door shut, his face flushed red with anger.

  He looked at Pru. “I think this is a mistake. He
can’t do anything. He’ll just mess things up and they’ll still send us away.”

  “Uncle Tom wouldn’t be here if he didn’t plan to help,” said Pru, her heart thumping madly. She couldn’t let their only chance of getting out of this mess slip away.

  “But he stole Nanny Gordon’s house out from under us,” said Jesse.

  “You’re all the family I got,” Uncle Tom called out. “Family has to stick together.” He began walking slowly toward the house.

  Jesse opened the door up a crack. “Maybe it’s too late to be looking for your family, mister. Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot,” he warned. Uncle Tom stopped in his tracks.

  “Reese knows we have no shells, Jesse. There’s no point in keeping this going. We can’t stay in here forever,” whispered Pru.

  Jesse stood shaking his head. Davey went to say some–thing and Jesse told him to be quiet. “We’ve got to talk this out, Pru. I still don’t think he can be trusted…”

  “Don’t come any closer,” repeated Jesse, turning his attention back to what was going on outside the door.

  “Jesse,” said Pru, looking her brother directly in the eyes. “When I was down in the cellar…” She swallowed hard. She had to tell him what had happened. One way or another, she had to make him understand. “When I was down in the cellar I heard Mama’s voice.” A dazed look spread across Jesse’s face.

  Pru placed her hands on her brother’s shoulders. It had been a tiring ordeal, one that needed to come to a conclusion. Pru could sense a change in the atmosphere. This might very well be her last chance to make Jesse understand. “Jesse, Mama said I should tell you to trust Uncle Tom.”

  “Mama? You heard Mama?”

  This time Jesse did not argue.