All That Lives (41 page)

“Drewry, I want you to go to the kitchen and tell Dean no one is to leave their cabins until this storm has passed. No one,
except the hardiest of men to perform only the most essential chores, and even those men should not venture out if they haven’t
wrapped their sorry boots with hide of some sort. Tell him to stock their cabins well with wood, and tell him also, when the
storm is over your father will have the cobbler out for Christmas boots and whiskey fresh from the doubler for everyone.”

“I shall tell him now,” Drewry said as he pushed his chair back from the table, pleased to be the bearer of this message.

When we finished eating we moved the lamps into the parlor, and each of us peeked into the doorway of Father’s room, reassured
to see him resting comfortably in bed.

“Let us list the joys of Christmas,” Richard suggested, and Mother obliged him readily, citing sugared ham’s head, brandied
fruitcakes and sleigh rides to the neighboring farms. I listened, but stood aside to poke at the fire with Father’s tool,
and part of me was much distracted by waiting for the demon to descend. Because of my fear I did not wholly enjoy myself as
the others appeared to. Or perhaps they all felt as I did, and simply hid it better, for I saw Mother, when she thought no
one else was looking, casting watchful eyes to Father’s sleeping form, and I noticed her descriptions of the lovely cakes
with cream and put-up cherries from the summer intensified just as the wind outside howled stronger, and soon I knew she was
putting forth her best effort to keep her family calm, despite what ills might befall us in the night.

“I love you, Mother!” I blurted out spontaneously, moving to sit beside her.

“ ’Tis nice to hear you say so, Betsy. Now settle down, and I will read a favorite verse of Father’s.”

“I love you, too!” Joel did not wish to be left out when there was affection to be had. He climbed up on her lap and she shifted
her knees to accommodate him.

“Whatsoever thy soul desirest I will even do it for thee,” Mother rocked Joel on her lap, while the room glowed with the light
of the roaring fire and the lamps. Her smooth voice cast a serene spell over us all and despite my fear I became caught up
with the story of the covenant of truth David and Jonathan had made until, abruptly, my peace was shattered by a shower of
rocks in the hallway and the Spirit arrived, singing coarsely.

Row me up some brandy O

“Have mercy on us this evening,” pleaded Mother, placing the Bible down so she could bring Richard onto her lap as well as
Joel. I stood and poked the fire viciously, shouting at the Being.

“Why won’t you leave us be?”

Drewry crossed the room to stand beside me, placing a restraining hand on my arm. I saw in his anxious features he was frightened
the Spirit might cast me down, but it did not. It ignored us all, bringing into the room many ugly voices, until it was as
if we sat at a barn dance with none but the roughest folk, engaged in chanting vile and hideous songs. We could not speak,
for the noise in the room prevented any one of us from being heard, and when it became obvious the Spirit did not intend to
cease this visitation, Mother led us upstairs to our rooms and tucked us into bed, while curses and musical vituperations
carried on, ringing up through the floor-boards.

“That which can’t be cured, must be endured,” she shouted. “I will sit with your father, and ignore this frightful revelry.
You must try to sleep.” I left my own bed as soon as she had gone and climbed into Joel’s, encouraging him with my knees in
his to snuggle up against me. He fell asleep quite shortly, nestled in my arms, and I found his warm and regular breathing
so comforting that I did not mind how my position put a crick into my neck. I lay unhappy and distressed, more frightened
than ever before, knowing the Spirit was about its final purpose, buried in the noise. I worried it meant to kill not only
our dear Father but the rest of us as well, and I felt certain I would be the next to die. A howling like a marked hog rose
from the noise and I wished suddenly the suffering would end at any cost. If death was to be the end of it, I did wish for
it, for Father, for myself. This unlikely thought stewed a potion of darkness in my mind. I tried to pray to God, but found
sufficient words absent. I thought of John Jr., and wondered, was he awake in this moment? Did he have any idea what was happening
in our home?

Downstairs the curses and laughter of a brothel raged, and time again seemed very slow as I listened to the Spirit’s destructive
power. Every scratch of wind on the glass, every thump of snow shifting on the roof, gave me cause to fear the Being’s hand
would soon be on my head, or wrapped around my throat and I would not breathe again. I thought I did not want my last moments
on earth to occur while I was sleeping, so though I did not know if I would live or die, I knew I would not sleep! Yet, as
the hours of darkness carried on, I wondered, why had I been so cursed that God should will for me to live through this?

At dawn, the perverse merrymaking and the storm simultaneously ceased and all was quiet in the house. I heard the door open
downstairs and then the sound of thumping on the porch. My brothers whimpered in their beds, as if they shared the same night
terrors in their sleep. The light of day came through their dormer window and piles of blown snow were stuck against the glass,
so the light was dim, but glowing, like white liquid in the air. I thought of angel wings again, and the ethereal quiet soothed
me. The light had come and I was still alive. Maybe it was possible God did have a special purpose for me as Mother believed,
and maybe I would live to see more propitious days in my future. I certainly was relieved to have made it through the night.
Still, I did not wish to get up and out of bed as I was suddenly most sleepy, for it was cozy in the silent stillness with
Joel’s warm body stretched against my stomach. I was just about to close my eyes when Drewry sat up quickly in his bed opposite.

“Perhaps ’tis over now,” he whispered and I wondered if he had ever really been to sleep himself. His wool trousers and linen
shirt were impossibly wrinkled from the night, and I thought back to the days before the Spirit when Mother would have insisted
on taking a box iron to his clothes before she would allow him to sit at the table. “It cursed all the night and never did
repeat itself!” Drewry shook his head in wonder, and did not pause to observe the quality of the light, but hurried downstairs
to supervise the lighting of the fires and to survey the nighttime damage from the storm and the Spirit. I heard Chloe rattling
bread pans in the kitchen and Joel twisted and sat up, pulling all the quilts along.

“Betsy, is the Witch away?” Joel was wide awake immediately, and he woke Richard.

“Let’s go and see.” Richard rubbed his eyes and looked about his bedclothes for the stocking that had slipped off his foot
in the night. I could not remain alone, so I also rose. I expected a scene of destruction in our parlor, but it was as it
always was, everything in place. All the stones had been removed from the hall, for the thumping I had heard had been Mother
tossing rocks off our front porch.

“Are you ill, dear Mother?” She shut the great front door and I saw that, like the rest of us, she had not changed her dress,
and her face was as pale and wrinkled as Drew’s shirt. She embraced me and I felt the chill of the outdoors on her and the
hallway smelled of snow.

“No, child. I am just weary from no sleep.” She ran her hand along my fuzzy braid and down my back. “But your father is improved!”
She turned me round and pushed me gently toward the table, for our breakfast. “I watched him through the night, and though
we were much reviled, your father did not wake. He slept peacefully until just before the dawn, when he awoke, as has always
been his custom. You may visit at his bedside shortly, but remember his illness has left him weak and you must not tire him
further. What news of the storm, Drewry?”

“None as yet. Dean is absent from our kitchen. I will go out after breakfast and inspect the lands myself.”

“Oh Dean will be along, ’tis certain. Thanks be to you, Lord, we have survived the endless night.” Mother added this sparse
amendment to her grace and I assumed her weariness extended to her vocabulary.

“The snow falls no more,” Drew informed her.

“A gift from God.” Mother sipped a cup of dark tea very slowly as if she had made it too hot.

“May we build snowmen after breakfast, Mother?” Joel and Richard astounded me with their resilience.

“You may, but you must come in through the kitchen, as I believe Chloe and I might today begin some Christmas cooking and
I can’t spare her to mop up the snow you will bring back with you.” Mother smiled, and for a moment I felt the day was beginning
as many that had come before it had begun, with a routine of living that made us all comfortable. But looking down, I saw
the wrinkles in my sleeve and realized the fear of the night was still on all of us, marking our clothes less deeply than
our minds and I knew our lighthearted conversation was all just pretense. I hurried to finish first and visit with Father
to witness for myself his recovery.

“I have done. Might I go and visit?” I rose with my plate in my hand.

“Yes, Betsy, but be quiet and come away if he is sleeping.” Mother continued to sip her tea very slowly.

Drew had built the fire to blazing at the hearth and it was warm in the parlor. As I passed Father’s desk I felt ashamed for
having ripped a page from his book of accounts, and I reminded myself I must organize things there after I saw him. I decided
I would confess straight away, and be done with my guilt, but when I crossed the threshold of his room I sensed immediately
something was very wrong. Father lay with his arm hanging off the side of his bed and his face was turned to the ceiling at
a very odd angle. His eyes were wide open and staring, and his chest heaved upward as though he could not get a breath.

“Mother!” I screamed and Drewry and the boys came running with her.

“What has happened?” cried Mother, taking Father’s hand into her own. She felt his wrist and found it pulsing quickly. “Jack,
Jack, can you hear me? It’s Lucy! What ails you?”

’Twas me, I did it. He is poisoned and will die.

The boys pressed against me, frightened, and I held them so tightly to my side my hand must have felt like the box iron on
their wrinkled backs. Mother turned to Father’s bedside table and there I saw a strange smoke-colored vial of blackish liquid,
one third full and with its cork out, standing beside the tinctures prescribed by Dr. Hopson.

“What’s this?” Mother raised the vial up to her nose and turned to us. “Who has brought this here? What is this foul-smelling
liquid?”

’Tis poison, Luce. I told you plain, I done fixed him now!

The Spirit shrieked with glee, and Mother burst into tears as did Joel and Richard.

While you ate I dosed him down.

“I will fetch the doctor,” Drewry said, touching Mother’s arm. “Shall I?”

“Yes, you must!” Mother readily agreed.

“But Drew, the storm …” I knew the road was thick with snow and there might be more to come. Swathing out a path would be
a trial for any horse, never mind the deadly wind and chill. I did not wish to lose my father and my brother in one day.

“ ’Tis over now and for Father’s sake, I must depart.” He kissed Mother on the cheek and she did not detain him.

“Use caution as you go,” she spoke softly through her tears. Taking Father’s hand she sat beside him on the bed, adjusting
his contorted body as the Spirit launched into a ribald song.

Row me up some brandy O

She ignored it and beckoned Richard, Joel and me to form a circle by the bedside holding hands. She led us in prayer above
the Spirit’s song.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil; for thou art with me.” The Spirit alternated
lines of its own verse with our prayer in the most confusing way.

Row me up some brandy O

For on a journey I will go!

“Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Row me up some sailor’s drink

For any sailor’s ship can sink!

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.”

Row me up some brandy O

For on a journey I will go!

We remained in our small circle praying over Father, barely aware of the passing time. The air in the room bristled with the
Spirit’s ill feeling, and it continued to sing strident verses. I closed my eyes and felt a darkness unlike any other, terrible,
cold and deeply empty, and when I opened my eyes it was there in the high corners of the room, a black and ominous fog, descending
to the bed. Father’s eyes remained open, but unseeing, and when Mother spoke to him he gave no sign he was aware of our presence.
Mother held his hand and we prayed each breath would be followed by another.

I knew he did not have long and I realized only all the moments I’d spent with him in my life mattered now. They were all
we would ever share, the sum of our time together. I hoped he knew I forgave him everything. His breathing seemed to happen
more and more slowly and I saw tears were falling silently from Mother’s cheeks onto the blanket. She looked as if her heart
might break, and I thought of Josh saying, “there can be no greater God than He who walks with you” and I felt comforted.
I wanted desperately to see him again and to spend all the rest of the moments of my life in his company, so when it came
my time to go I would not be saddened with longing for my true love. Father’s breath caught short, and abruptly from his throat
there issued a sudden gurgling cry, unlike any sound he had uttered previously. His limbs shuddered like a rabbit shot in
the field, and his chest rose and fell no more. His eyes remained open, staring unfocused at the ceiling. Mother gently closed
his lids with a trembling finger and I saw one single tear roll down his cheek. Mother placed her ear onto his heart and sobbed
without restraint.