The Devil in Canaan Parish (19 page)

I listened for a while as Sally’s parents chattered about the best way to entice Sally out of her hibernation and was grateful when the enormous blast of the organ announced that the Priest was making his way up to the altar.
 
The mass was comforting for a change. For a while I was free from the penetrating eyes all around me, able to quietly retreat into my mind where I fretted silently about Melee. At the end of the service, the altar boys handed out thick white candles to everyone.
 
The candles were lit in silence, and then the Priest made his way out of the church.
 
Row by row, the congregation followed behind, beginning with Mr. and Mrs. Landry in front, all the way through to the back of the church, and finally the colored folks who sat in the balcony.
 

The Priest led the long procession out of the town square and up the main road to the cemetery, about a half mile’s walk.
 
Some people joined us along the way, non-Catholics mainly who wanted to join in the evening’s blessings.
 
They lined the side of the road and fell in behind us.
 
Among them were Annie, Izzy and Gabriel Johnson.
 
As the parade wound its way toward the cemetery, I reflected on how different this march was from the one I had done fifteen years ago in the heat and misery of Bataan.
 
It seemed like a hundred years ago, so far removed was I from the fear and anguish with which I made that march.
 
There was no angry shouting, no rifle shots, no moaning from sick and dying soldiers.
 
Instead there was only silence except for the sound of gravel crunched underfoot, each person’s bright candle creating a pool of light in the thickening darkness.

As we neared the cemetery gates, the procession slowed down, and I could hear a kind of excited murmuring from the people ahead.
 
Something or someone was creating a stir in the congregation.
 
The line proceeded slowly, and I saw two women standing next to the cemetery gates, one taller, holding a long white candle and the other clasped firmly to her side.

“It’s Sally!” gasped her mother, who was walking directly in front of me.

Sally’s parents broke out of the line and hastened to her, both embracing and kissing her. Melee was with her, and I noticed that Sally had her arm looped through the girl’s.
 
She did not let go to hug her parents, instead she pulled Melee along with her toward the procession, her mother walking at her other side.
 
She continued to lean on Melee as she walked, like an elderly lady, seeming to need the girl’s support and strength along the way.

Melee and Sally did not look at me. They fell into line with Sally’s parents, just ahead of me. I assumed we were headed to the Landry family plots – the largest group of graves in the entire cemetery.
 
This was where we went every year, following Mr. and Mrs. Landry as they walked from tombstone to tombstone, sometimes laying a candle here or there, and then waiting for the Priest to come and sprinkle holy water on each one, a benediction for the faithful departed. But Sally did not stop at the Landry graves.
 

“Sally?” called her mother, confused. “Where you going, honey?”

Sally did not answer, but kept on, pulling Melee along, holding her candle in front of her. Sally’s parents and I followed her in silence.
 
It suddenly dawned on me where she was going.
 
A place she had never been, a place of which she had denied the existence for seven years.
 
She was going to the grave of our lost child.

When she reached the lonely little headstone, she stopped, and for the first time released her grip on Melee’s arm.
 
Sally’s parents and I hung back, watching her, all three of us barely able to breathe.
 
She handed her candle over to Melee, and then knelt down in the grass in front of the stone. She lifted up her hand and cautiously, tenderly touched it and began whispering something softly, her tone gentle.

“I won’t cry for you any more, dear one,” she said.
 
“I’m letting you go.
 
You’re with God now, my sweet. Wait for me.
 
I love you.”

And with that she broke into sobs, wrapping both arms around the gravestone and hugging it.
 
Sally’s mother made a movement to go to her, but her husband grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back.

“Give her a moment, Alice,” he murmured. “She’s needed to do this for a long time.”

I wondered if I, as the father, needed to go over to her and share her grief, but my tears had long since dried out.
 
It was really a private moment between mother and child.

When she had finished, Sally stood up and wiped her eyes, and then walked around to stand behind the gravestone.
 
She reached for her candle from Melee and held it in one hand, keeping her other resting on the stone. She remained silent and motionless, waiting for the Priest who eventually made his way over to us, to bless the little grave. When he had finished, Sally pushed the lit candle down into the earth in front of the headstone and then slowly backed away.
 
Her parents wrapped their arms around her, one on each side, and began to lead her out of the cemetery, Melee following closely behind.

We made our way in this fashion all the way back to town.
 
The congregation dispersed,
 
everyone going to their own cars and heading home. I saw Gabriel Johnson standing near our car and wondered what he could want, but before I could ask, Sally’s mother spoke up.

“Darling, there’s a little gathering at Grandma and Grandpa’s house tonight.
 
Would you like to go?”

Sally glanced from her mother to Melee, who nodded, and then back to her mother.

“Yes, mother, that would be nice.”

“Would you like to ride with us?” asked her father, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

“No, no,” she smiled, “I can ride with Bram.” She looked back at Melee, who quickly spoke up.

“I’ll be fine.
 
Gabe said he can walk me home.”

With that, Gabriel stepped out from the shadows, smiling and nodding at us all.

“Evenin’ Mr. Bram, Miss Sally.”

“Evening, Gabe,” Sally answered.
 
“You’ll take good care of my Melee, now won’t you?”

“Oh yes ma’am, yes ma’am,” he assured her.

Sally turned and embraced Melee.
 
I could sense the shock from her parents, although they said nothing.

Melee and Gabriel turned and left us, and then Sally walked over to our car.
 
I hurried to open the door for her, and then climbed in behind the wheel.
 
During the drive to the Landry plantation I thought of a million things to ask her, but nothing would come out.
 
I was just too surprised to know what to say.
 
Sally sighed and stared out her window.
 
She wore a peaceful expression. I noticed that the bags that normally circled her eyes were missing.
 
She seemed healthy, almost glowing. It was the first time I had really seen her in months.

When we arrived, the Grande Maison was brightly lit.
 
Dozens of cars were parked along the driveway.
 
I sighed, knowing that a “small gathering” at the Landry house was never less than fifty people. Sally emerged, radiant, from the car, a sparkling smile lit up her face as she climbed the steps, crossed the porch and entered the house. There were choruses of “Sally!” as aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and cousins each embraced and kissed her, welcoming her back into the fold.

“My how we have missed you, girl!” said Old Man Landry, giving his granddaughter an extra long hug. “It’s been too long.”

In no time, Sally had returned to her debutante persona, laughing and flitting from conversation to conversation.
 
I followed her around, the dutiful husband again.
 
After an hour or so, I grew impatient, and whispered in her ear that it was getting time to leave.

I expected her to commence making her farewells, an activity which took at least twenty minutes. Instead she walked over to the buffet table, picked up a knife and began tapping it lightly on her glass.
 
The loud buzz of the room began to die down as everyone stopped to see who was about to make an announcement.
 
When the room was silent all eyes were turned to Sally and me.

“Well,” smiled Sally, “I know that I have been making myself scarce lately and you all have been worried about me.”
 
There were a few nods and murmurs of agreement.
 
Sally waited until the room was quiet again.

“Well there has been good reason for that.
 
You see, I haven’t been feeling myself lately.” She paused, turning toward me.
 
I shifted uncomfortably, wondering what she would say next.
 
My pulse quickened.
 
Would she expose me here in front of her entire family?

“The fact is that I have some very happy news to share.
 
Bram and I,” she continued, stepping closer and looping her arm through mine, “Bram and I are expecting!”

The room stayed quiet for a moment, as people stared in disbelief.
 
I felt my mouth gape open, too shocked to speak, and then the room erupted into surprise and elation.

I stood numbly by Sally’s side as each person made their way over to congratulate us.
 
There were kisses and hugs for Sally, and several slaps on the back for me.

“Palmer, you rascal,” grinned Sally’s father, “I don’t know how you kept this from me, but good for you!” He wrapped his arms around Sally and picked her up in an enormous hug.
 

“Sally darling!” shrieked Peg as she waddled over to us, tears streaming down her face, “I’m just so happy for you, I can’t speak! Oh, I know things are going to go right this time, honey!
 
And just think, now I can lend you all those clothes I’ve been keeping for you.
 
Oh! I have to throw you a baby shower!
 
When are you due?”

The two of them chattered away happily, Peg was already a week overdue, bulging like some kind of fertility goddess.
 
She placed her hand on Sally’s stomach and cooed.
 
“Hello little one!
 
I’ll have a little cousin for you to play with whenever you’re ready to come out!”

The evening wore on until almost midnight, with many more toasts, tears and congratulations.
 
My head was spinning by the time we returned to the car.
 
I sat gripping the steering wheel for a moment, trying to regain my composure.
 
What the hell was Sally thinking?
 
I was worried, really worried, that she had lost her grip on reality.
 
I had not touched her in months. There was no way that she could be carrying a child. I churned these thoughts over and over in my head as I drove her home.
 
How would I confront her about this? Had I, at last, driven my wife insane?

Arriving home, Sally leaped out of the car and trotted up the walkway toward the back door.
 
Melee was waiting in the kitchen.
 
Immediately, Sally embraced her, and the two of them started off toward the bedroom.

“Sally, wait,” I called.
 
She turned toward me, her face expectant but calm.

“Sally, I. . .I mean, are you sure?
 
Are you sure that you’re pregnant?”

“Why of course not, silly,” she scoffed, shaking her head.

“I. . .I don’t understand.
 
What about your family?
 
What you said this evening?”
 

“Bram,” she sighed, walking toward me and placing a hand on my cheek.
 
Her eyes were shining brightly.
 
There was no trace of hysteria in her voice.
 
“that was all part of the plan.”

“The plan?” I blinked, astonished.
 
“What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re going to have a child, Bram, but I’m not carrying it.”

Again I felt the room spinning.
 
What was she saying? Was there something wrong with me? Was I hearing her correctly?

At that moment, Melee stepped forward and Sally wrapped her arm around her waist. Comprehension hit me like a wave. For a moment I stood staring, dumbfounded at the two of them.

“You, you mean Melee?” I stammered.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, and placed a hand over Melee’s belly.

I turned from her to Melee, who nodded, confirming what I had guessed but hoped wasn’t true.

“Good God, Sally, are you crazy?” I shouted, falling backwards against the kitchen table.

“Quite the contrary,” she responded, her eyes narrowing and her jaw hardening with resolve. “God has seen fit to bless us with a child, Bram.
 
At first I did not understand why Melee was brought here, and even after I did everything I could to make her go away, somehow she stayed. She was sent to us from God, Bram. She is here to bring us the child that we have always wanted.”

I shook my head, beginning to panic. This was impossible.
 
It simply could not be happening.

“We, we have to send her away,” I murmured, hating myself for having to say it, but knowing it was the only way.
 
“She has to leave, now, Sally, and we have to tell your family you’ve had another miscarriage.” I spoke to her gently, hoping that my words would not hurt her as much as they were hurting me.

With that, Sally stepped in front of Melee, protectively.

“We will do nothing of the sort!” she hissed.

“But, Sally,” I protested.