Quarrel with the Moon (21 page)

"Josh!"

Cresta woke up gasping for breath. For a time she was unable to shake off the dream, and then she saw the band of light, and beyond, the living area of the camper and Avarilla asleep on the sofa. She remembered. She was sick and the old woman was caring for her. But where was Josh? Where - was - he?

The small bedroom blurred. She pressed her damp cheek against the pillow. Time stopped for Cresta and then carried her away on its endless journey.

***

Roma moved about the kitchen, making preparations for Josh's bath. He watched her. Buckets and pots filled with water sat on top of the stove. The wood fire was burning with a furious intensity, providing an orange light. She had given him a glass of whiskey.

"Where's the tub, Roma?" he asked. She crossed the room to a flowered curtain which hung from a length of clothesline and concealed the far corner. With a flourish Roma pulled it aside, revealing a unique bathtub. It was a large scoop of copper balanced on four claw feet and higher by at least a yard at the back. The tub was one of the few things that Roma bothered to clean; it gleamed like a treasure from a Pharaoh's tomb.

"It looks like an antique," said Josh.

"It belonged to my Ma an' her Ma before her. Come all the way from Boston."

"It's a very interesting piece."

The words were conventional, but their tone and cadence were filled with hidden meanings and taut emotions. Their voices were husky and the words were broken by the effort of breathing. The inevitable conclusion was at hand.

Roma moved back to the stove. The glow surrounded her and cast her body in silhouette. She had changed from her black mourning dress to a pale shift worn shadow-thin by too many washings. She tested the water. "It's hot enough. Not yet boiling, but hot enough." Then she began carrying the buckets and pots to the tub. As she emptied them, a white mist rose to dampen her hair and her dress.

Josh began unbuttoning his shirt. Still watching Roma, he removed his muddy boots. Roma turned to him, holding a cake of homemade soap in the palms of her hands like an offering. Josh stood up, undid his belt and peeled off his jeans.

Roma's eyes flickered as she dropped her gaze. Her lips separated and her cheeks flushed red. Josh walked toward her, took the soap and stood in front of her. Still they did not touch. It was as if a strain of masochism caused them to put off something pleasurable for as long as they could stand it.

Josh stepped into the tub and as Roma watched, he slowly immersed himself in the water. Roma took off her shift and was completely nude. She walked to the copper tub. Roma had much more body hair than most women. A light spray of hair shadowed the valley between her breasts and still more, fine as down, covered her rounded stomach. Josh did not find it disagreeable; rather, it heightened his desire. Roma knelt by the tub and, using a natural sponge, she began to wash Josh, starting beneath the surface of the water.

***

Orin stood outside the camper and listened. No sound came from within. He looked in the window and saw Avarilla asleep on the couch. Then he moved to the far end of the camper and looked inside. In a pale half-light he saw Cresta asleep on the double bed. Sliding his hand down over his abdomen, he began to stroke himself through his trousers.

He tried the door. It was unlocked. As he stepped inside he glanced at his grandmother. She didn't stir. Orin walked softly into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Cresta turned over so that she was on her back and her beautiful face was lit by the pale moonlight streaming through the high window. Her flesh glistened as if powdered diamonds had been sprinkled over it. Orin removed his vest and let it drop to the floor. Then he bent over to take off his boots. Because of his erection his pants were difficult to remove. He walked to the edge of the bed. Cresta's hair was spilled across the blankets. He rubbed his knee against her tresses. They felt softer than anything he had ever imagined. He touched her face, and she smiled in her sleep. Then he unbuttoned the top of her flannel nightgown and cupped her right breast in his hand. His thumb and forefinger secured the nipple and he began exerting the slightest pressure. Cresta groaned, her eyes partly opened. "Josh," she said. Her voice sounded detached as if it were coming from somewhere else.

"Yes, Cresta," Grin replied. "I'm here." Then he lifted the covers and climbed into bed.

***

Jewell's hand reached out in her sleep and knocked over the glass of whiskey. The amber liquid spilled across the tabletop and washed against her cheek. The sting of the liquor woke her up.

"Faye? Faye? I was dreamin' about that time you an' me an' Avvie decided to enter that quilt makin' contest at the County Fair." She chuckled in remembrance. "It was the Lone Star design. Pretty ambitious, considering that you an' me couldn't sew a decent stitch. We all agreed to do a third of the quilt an' Avvie got real angry because we couldn't keep up with her. Then the night before the contest, we pasted all them triangles into place. Avvie was just amazed that we got our part done. Hah! Then when they hung it up at the fair the weather was so hot an' dry that those triangles began fluttering off the quilt like leaves from a tree." Jewell began to cry. "Oh, Faye, Faye, you're dead. You can't hear me. I loved you better than my own family. You stayed, they all went away. An' now you're gone too." She stood up, sobbing, and looked around the kitchen until she found the jug of liquor. She poured herself another drink. It made her gag, but she drank it anyway. She went to the sink for a rag to sop up the spill on the tabletop and saw that her garnet ring was still on the windowsill.

"I wanted you to have that ring, Faye." She picked it up and held it to the light. "I
want
you to have it."

Jewell looked under the sink and found a hammer and the metal wedge Faye had used to split logs into kindling. Going into the parlor, she shoved the wedge between the top and side of the coffin and said, "Oh, dear Lord, forgive me for disturbin' sweet Faye, but I just got to give her the ring. Please,
please
understand."

She pried the coffin lid open an inch or so. Setting the tools aside, she gripped the lid and, working it to the left and right, managed to free it. She pulled it aside and laid it on the floor. Then Jewell looked into the casket.

A terrible cry flew from her throat. The garnet ring slipped from her grasp and spun away from her. She staggered backward, clawing at her eyes, trying to obliterate what she had seen.

Faye Brooks was hardly recognizable. Her hair was matted with blood. Her cheeks had been torn away, so that the bones were visible. Her lips had been ripped away, and her teeth hung loosely from discolored gums. One of Faye's eyes was missing. The other, hanging from its socket, was staring at Jewell. A jellied mass of gore was all that was left of her throat, and her chest was rent by wounds so deep that part of her spine was exposed.

Jewell stood motionless, staring at what had once been her friend. She denied her eyes, convinced that what she was seeing was a figment of imagination and liquor. But the ghastly vision refused to change. Jewell at last had to accept that the mangled thing in the casket was Faye Brooks. Her soul could not do so.

Jewell spun around and fell to her knees. Sobbing and screaming, she crawled into the kitchen where she sought shelter beneath the table. She held onto one of the wooden legs and bared her teeth. She worked her jaws against the wood with such force that finally the table leg began to splinter.

***

The sound of the camper door closing awakened Avarilla. She rubbed her eyes, unsure of where she was. Then, realizing she was in the camper, she hurried into the bedroom to check on Cresta.

The young woman was sprawled across the bed, lying on a tangled mass of quilts and blankets. The flannel nightgown was around her waist, and her flesh was covered with perspiration. Avarilla touched her skin. Cresta was more feverish than ever. After pulling the blankets and quilts over her charge, Avarilla hurried into the kitchen to make a poultice. In her experience it had never failed to rout a fever. She combined kerosene, turpentine and pure lard, the latter to prevent blistering. Then she soaked a wool cloth with the mixture.

Avarilla managed to get Cresta in a sitting position. She lowered the nightgown, placed cheesecloth on her chest for protection, and added half of the wool poultice. Cresta became conscious. She spoke in a hollow voice. "Josh was here, Aunt Avvie. He came to see me."

"That's nice, darlin'."

"He - he made love to me."

Avarilla shook her head with pity. The fever was causing the poor girl to hallucinate. "Now, just lean forward."

Avarilla drew in her breath. Cresta's back was covered with deep red scratches. "Goodness, darlin', how did you hurt yourself?" Cresta said nothing. Avarilla stared at the markings. They were evenly spaced and were in series of fives. She dabbed the wounds with alcohol before applying the other poultice. "The poultice will help heal those marks." Then she gave Cresta another cup of the tea. Once again Cresta fell into a deep sleep.

After tucking Cresta in, Avarilla returned to the living room. It was then she saw the damp footprints which stained the carpet. The prints were made by a man's boot. Avarilla became troubled. If Josh had been here, why didn't he stay? It seemed unlikely that he would take advantage of Cresta's illness. Or
was
it Josh?

***

The stars were fast losing their sparkle - diamonds becoming glass - as dawn bleached the sky. Josh, racing the daybreak, hastened through the forest with heavy steps and aching thighs.

Never before had Josh experienced such intense passion. And yet, the act of their lovemaking was indistinct, amorphous, like a half-remembered dream. What remained was exhaustion and guilt. He knew that Avarilla would have stayed with Cresta throughout the night. But what would Cresta think if she awoke and didn't find him there? As Josh increased his pace, he began manufacturing excuses. He spent the night with Jewell Runion, giving her comfort and support. No, Cresta wouldn't buy that. He got lost in the forest and slept in a tree. No good; his sense of direction was phenomenal. Perhaps he could just say he got drunk and passed out. That she would believe. Josh wondered if she would suspect that he had spent time with Roma. He would deny it vehemently, of course, but he was so tired. Could he convince her? It required effort to lie.

Thrusting his thoughts of guilt aside, Josh hurried through the forest and reached the road leading to the covered bridge they had crossed earlier. It was the quickest route back to the camper. As he stepped inside the dark entrance, his footfalls echoed hollowly against the walls and ceiling of the structure. The sound unnerved him. Cursing his own paranoia, he hurried toward the arc of light at the other end. Halfway there he heard a noise. A growl? A groan? Josh's heart slowed down, and then began to beat faster. A sudden fear rushed through his body. His mind flashed back to the dreadful things he had seen in the cave, and to the abnormally shaped skull which had brought him here. Despite the coolness of the morning, he began to perspire.

Josh looked over his shoulder. The sound came again. It was louder, more intense and closer. A wave of dread lapped at Josh like a physical force. Instinctively he thrust out his arms. Something clutched his hand. He uttered a cry and drew back, but his hand was caught. He backed up frantically, dragging the heavy creature with him, until he reached the light from the entrance.

The creature was Jewell Runion. Her eyes burned with madness, and her lips were encrusted with dried blood. He shook her hand loose and she fell in front of him. Her chin hit the boards hard and the impact seemed to jar her into speech. She began babbling.

"The garnet's turned into blood ... Faye knew ... she knew the answer ... not dead and buried ... the preacher lied ...
lied!
Accursed twins ... Orin ... Josh...." She lifted her face, recognized Josh, and began tearing at her hair and screaming. Spittle mixed with the dried blood; a pink foam oozed from her lips. Josh, horrified, stepped around her and ran the full length of the covered bridge, pursued by her terrible gibberish. The death of her friend had obviously unhinged her mind. He knew that he should try to get her home. But, after all, she was not his worry, and he didn't want to become involved with her insane grief.

Josh sprinted past Avarilla's house and the Thicket until, gasping for breath, he entered the camper. Avarilla was at the sink, washing a cup. She looked at him sternly. "Where have you been till this hour of the mornin', Josh?"

"I stayed on at Faye Brooks' house," he lied. "How's Cresta? Is she better?"

"Her fever's broke, thank the Lord. An' she's restin' easy now. You don't look none too good yourself. Why don't you let me fix you a cup of my special tea? I'll make up a bed for you here on the couch." Josh glanced toward the bedroom. "Don't go wakin' her up now. She's goin' to be all right. But I don't want you sleepin' in there. There's no use in you catchin' what she has."

Josh didn't argue. He sat down at the table. When Avarilla had prepared the tea, he drank it.

"By the way, Josh," the old woman said smoothly, "Cresta thinks you were here earlier."

"Me? Here?"

"Of course she was hallucinatin'." Josh didn't respond. "She was hallucinatin', wasn't she, Josh?"

"Of course she was. I told you I was at Faye Brooks' house." Josh finished the tea and lay down on the couch. Avarilla covered him with a blanket.

"I'll be by later with some homemade soup. Right now I've got to see to Sissy an' attend Faye's buryin'. You stay there an' sleep it out. If Cresta takes a turn for the worse, you come an' fetch me, hear?"

"I will, Aunt Avvie. Thanks for everything you've done." Avarilla knelt to kiss Josh on the forehead and was struck by the strong musky odor which clung to his flesh like a perfume. She wondered anew ... who was telling the truth? Josh? Cresta?

Perhaps they both were.

***

Somehow Jewell Runion stumbled back home, still muttering with terror, but the familiar surroundings brought her no comfort. The empty house only served to emphasize how very much alone she was.