Twilight's Burning

by Diane Guest

  And all the while they dug and hauled and buried, the fires they had worked so hard to extinguish burned their way back to the surface from deep under the ground where they had retreated. And all the while that Hendrik and his neighbors worked, the fires inched their way closer to the edge of the clearing.

  OCTOBER 6, 1871

  Susannah looked at herself in the mirror and pinched savagely at her cheeks, wondering why her face had to be so pale when her hands were so rough and red. A little face rouge would have helped, but of course she didn't own any. "Painted faces are Lucifer's own," she told her reflection, pulling the corners of her mouth down in imitation of Edwin.

  Carefully smoothing a wisp of hair that insisted upon curling in the wrong direction, she stood and inspected the bodice of her faded dress. If only I had something to wear that made me look a little less like a hen, she thought, and then shook her head at her own foolishness. "Who would care," she told her reflection, "even if you did have a nice dress."

  She sat down on the edge of her bed and flicked an eye at the narrow, pointed toes on the only other pair of shoes she owned. Never, she thought, shaking her head as she looked down at her swollen feet. "Poor feet," she said softly. "I guess you'll just have to go without shoes."

  She crossed to the window and looked out at the fields toward the east. The sun was just visible over the tops of the trees, glowing hazy-red through the smoke that hung like a pall in all directions. Another day and still no rain. How long can this go on, she wondered.

  The feeling of apprehension that had become almost part of her began to inch its way up her spine, but she refused to give it any attention. Not today, she thought. Today I'm going to be happy if it kills me. If the trees want to burn, let them burn. If Edwin wants to wet himself, let him. I don't care. Today I'm going to be happy.

  She knew that Sylvanus wasn't bringing the children down to school and she was relieved that she wouldn't have to see him. Maybe if he stayed away for a while, it would give her time to think things out. She went downstairs carefully, one step at a time, feeling a little less concerned about her feet.

  She paused outside Edwin's door and then walked quickly away toward the kitchen. Don't think about him, she told herself. Don't think about him.

  Jenny and Abby were finishing breakfast when she came in. "Am I the last one up?" she asked.

  "Except for Mame," Abby said. "She stayed with Edwin until just before dawn."

  "Did anything happen?" Susannah didn't really want to know, determined now not to let Edwin ruin her resolve to enjoy the day.

  "Nothing," Abby said. "He never moved all night."

  Susannah sat down. "Where's Matt?"

  "Out in the stable."

  She smiled. "I don't know why I asked." She glanced at the clock on the mantle, which was almost hidden by the kitchen stovepipe. I wonder why I ever put that clock there, she thought. You can hardly see it. She wondered why she had never noticed before. Maybe because time had never meant anything to her before. Now it did. It meant that she was growing older as each second ticked away.

  "Do you feel up to teaching today?" Abby said.

  "Absolutely. I couldn't bear sitting here."

  Jenny finished cleaning up the kitchen. "Do you mind if I leave now? I promised Mary Gillis some help on her poetry notebook."

  "Go ahead, Jenny," Susannah aid.

  Abby got up from the table. "I'm going over, too," she said. "Will you be along?"

  "If I'm not there soon, Abby, begin the session without me. I'll be there as soon as I talk to Mame."

  Abby gave Susannah a quick hug and left. Susannah watched as she crossed the short distance to the school. Oh Abby, she thought, do I look as old and tired to you as you do to me? Where have we gone, the fairy princesses we used to be? Where did they go, all the dreams and the promises?

  For a minute she felt desperate, but then she straightened her backbone and took a deep breath. "You aren't going to solve anything by feeling sorry for yourself," she said aloud, and after checking to make sure that Mame was awake to hear Edwin if he called, she left .the house and walked over to the schoolyard.

  She hadn't taken a dozen steps before the bandages on her feet were covered with a layer of powdery ash that frosted the ground as far as she could see. This will never do, she thought, and sat down on the schoolhouse steps to try to brush them off.

  She heard the sound of his horse coming before she saw Sylvanus and she had to hold herself back when he reined up in front of her. I want to kiss him, she thought, and hug him and love him.

  Then she saw his face. It was thunder and lightning, a mask of rage. Oh God, she thought, what have I done now? "Sylvanus, what is it?"

  He stood before her and spoke with tight control, the words forming mechanically as though he was not really speaking. "Are your children here?"

  "Of course they're not. You said you weren't bringing them today."

  He sat down heavily beside her. "Goddamn her," he said. "Goddamn her."

  "Sylvanus, what's wrong?"

  "Caroline told Mrs. Deidrick that she was taking the children to school this morning while I was busy over in the west stand."

  "But they aren't here!" Susannah was shivering now, still unable to understand what he was saying, but aware of something beyond terror.

  "No," he said. "They aren't."

  The pitch of her voice was low, but he could hear her fear. "Where are they?"

  "I don't know. Caroline took them with her. In the carriage. Told them she was taking them to school. Mrs. Deidrick told her that they weren't to go, but Caroline paid no attention."

  Hold on, she told herself. Don't get hysterical until you understand what he's saying. "Are they somewhere between here and Morgan House?"

  "No. Quint and I came down the byroad. She must have gone north."

  "Where? Where on earth could she go?"

  "I don't know. Maybe to Belle Harbour."

  "My God, Sylvanus, why would she take my children to Belle Harbour?"

  "I don't know."

  "Don't keep saying you don't know!" Her control was slipping.

  He took her hands. They were bones of ice. "Susannah," he said, "Caroline took the children. I don't know to where or to what end."

  She was rocked by alternate waves of hot and cold. She had taken the children up there to be safe and now they were gone. That terrifying woman had them. Nothing I do is right, she thought. Nothing. God. Are you punishing me? Is that why all this is happening? If I prostrate myself before You, will this terror end? This was the worst. This was what she had feared the most, what she knew she could not bear. Her children were not safe. She didn't even know where they were.

  "Susannah," Sylvanus said in the most gentle of tones. "She won't hurt them. I've sent some men north to bring them back."

  Susannah bit her lip. She said nothing, just covered her face with her hands so that he couldn't see her breaking into bits.

  He stood and walked up the steps to the schoolroom door. He motioned for Abby to come out and told her what had happened. "I'm taking her to Morgan House with me." He gestured toward Susannah, who was still sitting motionless on the steps. "When they find Caroline and the children, that's where they'll bring them."

  Abby came down the steps and put her arms around her cousin. If anyone knew what the children meant to Susannah, she did. "They'll be all right, cousin," she said.

  Susannah nodded. "Of course they will." She looked out across the schoolyard. "Because if they aren't, how can I live?"

  Susannah rode behind Sylvanus in silence. The road to Morgan House had been cleared and a crew stationed along the way to monitor the progress of the fires still burning to the south and west. She passed without seeing, numb to everything but the chilling awareness that her children were gone.

  Dear God, she prayed, if You have taken them from me to punish me, give them back and I will serve. I will do Your bidding. I will obey Your commandments if only in Your infinite mercy You w
ill just give them back.

  When they reached Morgan House, Sylvanus lifted her from her horse. "Susannah," he said. "Don't be afraid."

  "God is punishing me," she said, more to herself than to him.

  "What?"

  "God is punishing me."

  "You can't be serious," he said. "Surely you don't believe that."

  She only looked at him. She said nothing.

  "Jesus," he said, and went into the house without waiting for her to follow.

  She walked after him with little awareness of where she was or what she was doing.

  He turned to her in the hall, his voice mocking. "God has snatched your children out of your arms and thrown them into the abyss. Is that it? Why? To punish you for your evil ways? You must think God is an ass." He turned and went into the drawing room. She followed.

  His insensitivity forced her mind away from the panic that threatened to consume her. "You don't believe that it could be possible that God is punishing me?" she said coldly.

  "Don't be absurd, Susannah. No more than it was for me to be responsible for Anne's death. Or David's. As crazy as I may be, hiding myself up in the attic, licking my wounds, I never was fool enough to believe that I was responsible for what happened to them." Sylvanus crossed to her side. "Use your wits, Susannah," he said. "What do you expect from God? That He will step in with a mighty hand if you say your prayers, and grant all your wishes? But if you don't, good-bye, Susannah? Off with your head?"

  Susannah could not hold back the tears. "Then why is all this happening?" she whispered.

  "I don't know why," he said. "But I do know that God didn't drive your children to Belle Harbour or wherever. Caroline Morgan did it and believe me when I say that she is no agent of God. To my knowledge the two have never met." He crossed to her and lifted her chin. He stood looking at her, unable to believe that there had been a time when he had not loved her. "Your children aren't going to come to any harm," he said. "The men will have them back here soon enough. Here." He handed her his handkerchief. "Blow your nose."

  She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "Do you really think they'll come back safe?"

  "I promise," he said quietly, and hoped to hell that he was right. Almost the instant he said it, they heard the sound of horses and men and Aaron's voice.

  "They're here, Sylvanus, they're here!" she said, and he was staggered by the look of pure joy that came across her face. He found himself wishing that he had been the reason for such a transformation. She ran to the front door and gathered her children in her arms as they came in.

  Without a word, Caroline Morgan moved past them and stopped motionless in the hall, looking at Sylvanus, who was watching from the drawing room door. The slightest hint of a smile touched the corners of her mouth and Sylvanus knew that she was pleased at the distress she had caused. "I cannot imagine why everyone is so upset," she said quietly.

  Sylvanus answered her. "I can't either, Caroline," he said, "but it would please me if you would step in here for a minute."

  She crossed the hall like a whisper and waited just inside the door for him to speak. Then he hit her open-palmed across her face, snapping her head sideways. "We'll talk about this later," he said and left her, the imprint of his hand scarlet against the white of her cheek. He never saw the expression that twisted her features into a grotesque snarl, giving her the look of something wild.

  According to the children, the fires were not burning as heavily to the north, and they would have gone clear to Belle Harbour had Mr. Morgan's men not told them they had to come back. Mrs. Morgan hadn't been too friendly, but still it was a shame they hadn't been able to spend the day there. Belle Harbour was so much larger than Penobscot Landing with so many more things to do. And what a surprise it had been when she told them she was taking them on an excursion to the city.

  Neither Susannah nor Sylvanus felt it would serve any useful purpose to tell them the truth about the trip, but later, when the children had left the room and they were alone, Susannah said, "I'm going to take them home. This afternoon. They can't stay here any longer."

  "I can't blame you," Sylvanus said. "Although I don't mean to put up with anything more from Caroline."

  Susannah turned away. "That's up to you, Sylvanus," she said, "but I can't leave my children here alone again."

  "Then I'll take you home," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving her. "But not now. Tomorrow."

  She whirled around to face him, her eyes open wide. "Not until tomorrow? But that's impossible. I can't stay here tonight."

  "Why not?"

  She felt the heat come into her cheeks and she turned away from him. "We have no reason to stay," she said. "Surely one of your men can take us into town."

  "But I want you to stay," he said quietly, and she was thrown into a panic of confusion. She sat down. Her feet were beginning to hurt and she was in desperate need of clean bandages. A picture she had seen once in a newspaper of a French soldier making his retreat from Moscow flashed across her mind. I must look ridiculous, she thought, and forced her mind back to what Sylvanus had just said.

  He knelt before her and began to unwind the strips of cloth, soaked through now where some of the blisters had broken. "I want you to stay with me, Susannah," he said, and she didn't dare believe what she heard in his voice.

  Then he looked up at her from where he knelt. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. "Oh, God," she said, trembling. "What does this mean?"

  "It means that I love you." He said it so softly that it seemed as if she saw his lips form the words a moment before she heard them spoken.

  "But you can't," she said in a whisper.

  "But I do."

  "You don't know what you're saying. You don't even like me," she said, and covered her face with her hands.

  With the gentlest motion he drew her hands away, but her eyes were closed tight. "Susannah," he said. "Look at me." She forced herself to open her eyes. "I love you," he said, and traced the line of her cheek with his finger. "I swear to you now that I will love you until I die."

  An expression of wonder fell over her features. "You love me?" she whispered.

  He nodded and the force of her sweetness held him motionless. Then, he drew her face toward him, slowly, and kissed her. For a moment nothing mattered in the world to her but the feel of him and the will of her mind surrendering to the will of his body. His mouth moved to the hollow of her throat. "My sweet darling," he said. "My tender, sweet darling."

  She moved her head so she could see his face. I must remember each minute, she thought. I must hold this now for it may never come again.

  All her life she had lived in expectation of death, of some eternal reward for goodness and virtue. Now she was flirting with all those grinning demons she had been taught so fervently to fear. She pulled away.

  A look of doubt crossed her face and Sylvanus could not miss seeing it. "What is it?" he asked.

  She didn't want to tell him, didn't want him to laugh at her, or, more unthinkable, to stop loving her.

  He raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling guilty?"

  She nodded and turned away so he could not see her face.

  "I won't ever force you, Susannah, if that's what you're afraid of. I'll not touch you ever unless you come to me of your own free will."

  "I don't know if I can," she said. "Do you think I'm a fool?"

  He shook his head. "No matter what you decide, Susannah, I'll never stop loving you." He stood up and turned away. "I want you to stay here at Morgan House tonight. I won't touch you, but I need you near me."

  She said nothing, lost in her own thoughts.

  "Will you stay?"

  She stood, unsteady on her feet, and crossed the few steps to where he stood. He turned and felt the hot rush of her tears on his hand. "I'll stay," she said, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

  Susannah sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the sounds of the house settling down upon itself to sleep. Up u
ntil now, she felt that she could have withdrawn, could have gone back to Edwin. But now, as she ran her love for Sylvanus over in her mind, trying to deny it, to destroy it, to make less of it than it was, she knew there could be no turning away.

  From where she sat, she could see the night sky exploding into fire. We may all burn up to ashes, she thought, and then what will it all mean? Her faith had been shaken these past few days, but worse, she felt a crushing need to be loved, to be sheltered, to be cared for.

  Somewhere, a life ago—she couldn't remember when—she had had the feeling that time was running out, that they were all in the eye of a storm. Now, she was sure that if she didn't go to Sylvanus she would die not ever knowing what it might have been like to have him hold her, touch her, love her. Her soul, with its extraordinary capacity to love and to comfort, begged her for something in return.

  I may spend the rest of my life with Edwin, she thought, but I want this chance. I need this chance.

  She crossed to the door and went out into the hall. She stopped halfway to his room. Maybe I should wait for him to come to me, she thought. But you know he won't, she said to herself. He said he wouldn't.

  She moved down the hall, her heart threatening to break free of her body. She knew which room was his, but when she reached the door, she froze. Oh God, she thought, what do I do now? Do I knock? Or do I just open the door and go in? "Susannah, do something," she said in a whisper. "You've come this far. Now do something before Caroline Morgan comes along and sees you standing here."

  That thought drove her into action. Clenching her teeth, she knocked once with such timidity that she was sure he couldn't possibly have heard.

  Then he was there, standing only inches away, and the small space between them hung there, building up such pressure that she felt as if she had just been slammed against a wall.

  He took her by the hand and pulled her inside, closing the door behind them without a sound. "Susannah. My Susannah," he said, and drew her against his bare chest. He kissed her on the mouth, without passion, a sexless kiss that promised to her both his faith and his love.