When the Wind Blows (35 page)

Christie appeared at the door, and the two women fell silent, both of them watching the child. “Aunt Diana? Are you going to give me my bath?”

Diana smiled at her. “Of course I am. Are you ready?”

Christie nodded and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

“What are you doing, child?” Edna asked. “You never used to suck your thumb.”

Christie looked hurt, and a tear welled in her eye. She wiped it away before Diana noticed it. Diana lifted her off her feet and hugged her close.

“It’s all right, baby,” she whispered. “Don’t you listen to her. All right?”

Christie nodded, her thumb never leaving her mouth, and Diana carried her out of the room. When she was alone, Edna Amber began to weep.

*  *  *

Dan Gurley listened to Matt’s story, then looked curiously at Matt. “You sure you didn’t spend the day drinking up there?” he asked.

“If you want, we can go up there right now and I’ll show you,” Matt offered. Though it was nearly six, the sun was still bright in the sky, and there was at least another hour of daylight.

“Dead babies,” Dan said heavily. “What makes you think they aren’t just some kind of small animal?”

“I don’t know,” Matt said. “It’s just a feeling I’ve got. That, and the story Jeff picked up from Eddie Whitefawn.” He repeated the story of the water babies to Dan and, when he was done, lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag on it, then stared at its glowing end. “Who knows?” he said. “Maybe there’s something to it.”

Dan stood up and picked up his hat. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s go up and have a talk with Esperanza. If anybody will know anything about it, she will.”

They left the office and drove up to the cabin by the mine.

“Sure you don’t want to take a look?” Matt asked. Dan glanced up the hill, then shrugged.

“Oh, what the hell. Might as well.”

Matt led the way up the trail and guided Dan into the cave. Using his flashlight, Dan took over the lead and moved slowly into the tunnel, his light picking up the bones that littered the floor.

“Looks to me like rabbits and squirrels,” he said.

“That’s here,” Matt replied. “Wait’ll we get to the end.”

A few moments later Dan was lying on his stomach, shining the light down into the pool.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered. “How long do you suppose those have been here?”

“Dunno,” Matt replied. “But they sure look old. What do you think?”

“I think we should see if Esperanza knows anything about this, and then I think we should figure out a way to get those bones out of there so we can find out what they really are. No sense getting all shook up over what might be nothing, now, is there?”

The two men made their way out of the cave and back down the hill. They knocked on the door of the cabin, and a moment later Juan appeared in the doorway. When he recognized Dan, his happy smile faded and his eyes took on the expression of a frightened rabbit.

“I didn’t do nothing,” he said.

“Now take it easy, Juan,” Dan said gently. “Nobody says you did anything. Is your mother here?”

Juan shook his head.

“Do you know where she is?”

Juan nodded.

“Can you tell me?”

“She went to church,” Juan said. “She said she has to pray.”

“Pray?” Matt asked. “Pray about what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Dan said. “I’ll go find her.” He and Matt were about to leave when Juan suddenly stopped them.

“You going to make the mine go boom-boom?” he asked.

“Where’d you hear that?” Matt asked.

“In town,” Juan said. “Eddie told me.” He paused and shuffled his feet. “Can I help?”

“Help? Help with what?”

“The boom-boom,” Juan said. “I could help you.”

Matt thought about it only a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think so, Juan. It’s pretty dangerous. I’m gonna use dynamite.”

Juan nodded. “I know about that. You make holes and put it in.”

“That’s right.”

“I could drill the holes,” Juan said eagerly. “Please? I wouldn’t touch anything. But I like to drill holes.”

Matt still hesitated, but then Dan spoke up.

“Why don’t you let him?” he asked. “You can’t do the job all by yourself.”

“I thought you were going to help out,” Matt said.

Dan nodded. “I was. But now I’m not sure I can.”

“Something come up?”

“Yeah. Nothing much, but it’s going to keep me busy for a few days.” He didn’t want to tell Matt that he was investigating Diana Amber. Ever since her strange fainting spell at the picnic, he had felt an urgency about it that he couldn’t quite explain, even to himself. “Got to go down to Pueblo,” he said evasively. “Some people I want to talk to.”

Matt grinned at him, knowing Dan was being pressured by Claire Jennings and the Sandlers. “Going job hunting?”

“Maybe,” Dan said, “maybe not. What about it? Going to give Juan a try?”

“Why not?” Matt shrugged. “I can show him where to drill, then put the stuff in myself.”

Juan smiled happily and clapped his hands. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “You’ll see. I’ll be real careful.”

“Okay. Tell you what. Come down to my place tomorrow, and we’ll load up the truck. All right?”

Juan nodded. “Okay.”

“Slow down,” Dan protested. “I want someone to look at that cave before you do anything. Let’s hold off for a few days, okay?”

“Anything you say,” Matt agreed.

“And I’ll talk to Esperanza. In the meantime I don’t think either of us should mention the cave. You know how people gossip around here.”

*  *  *

In the gloom of the Church of the Savior that stood on the edge of Shacktown, Dan Gurley could make out the figures of several people praying. He found Esperanza in the front row, on her knees. He touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him, startled. He signaled her to follow him out of the church. She crossed herself once more, then got to her feet.

When they were outside, Dan asked her about the cave. Her dark eyes filled with terror.

“Madre de Dios,”
she muttered. Then, her face pale, she scurried back inside, leaving Dan alone on the street.

   Christie sat in the tub, enjoying the feel of the water as Diana sluiced it over her. Being given a bath, she had finally decided, wasn’t so bad after all. All you had to do was lie there and keep your eyes closed when your face and hair were being washed. And as long as she didn’t cry her splashing didn’t seem to bother Diana anymore.

What bothered her was living in Diana’s room. Even though she hated the nursery, sometimes she missed it. Up there she had at least been by herself sometimes.

Now she was never by herself, except for a few minutes this afternoon when she had managed to sneak up to the nursery while Diana was on the telephone.

Her things were gone, even her photo album.

Someone—Miss Edna, she thought—had taken them out of the nursery and hidden them somewhere. Maybe if she told Aunt Diana about it, she could get them back.

“Aunt Diana?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

“What happened to my things?”

“What things, honey?”

“Stuff like my album. I can’t find it.”

“Isn’t it in the nursery?” Diana asked.

Christie shook her head. “I looked, but it isn’t there.”

Diana frowned. She didn’t have the slightest idea what Christie was talking about. What album? The Amber family had never kept an album.

   Late that night, Edna Amber climbed wearily to the third floor and let herself into the nursery.

She sat in the rocking chair for a while, her mind blank, her eyes wandering over the furnishings of the room. Slowly thoughts began to form in her mind, and soon she found herself remembering the days when Diana had been a child.

When had Diana begun forgetting?

Edna didn’t know. Over the years the past had become confused for her, and she knew that, fight it as she tried, some of Diana’s madness had worn off on her.

And madness, she was finally admitting to herself, was what it was.

In the terrible honesty that comes with old age she realized that it was her own fault.

She had been too hard on Diana. She should never have let the rage she felt against her child vent itself. But it was either that or go crazy herself, and for a long time it looked as if Diana was going to be all right.

   And then, one day nearly thirty years ago, Diana had come in after an afternoon of riding. Her clothes had been torn, and her face was smudged with dirt.

Edna had asked her what had happened, but Diana had only looked at her fearfully, burst into tears and run up to the nursery. She had locked the door and had not come out again until the next day. And on the next day, when Edna had again asked her what had happened, Diana had seemed puzzled.

“Happened when?” she had asked.

“Yesterday,” Edna had replied. “When you came home from riding, you were a mess.”

Diana’s eyes had remained puzzled. “But I didn’t go out riding yesterday,” she had said. “I was in my room all day long.”

No matter how hard Edna had badgered her, she had never wavered from her story.

The months had gone by, and it had soon become obvious that Diana was pregnant.

But she wouldn’t admit it.

Finally, when the pregnancy had become undeniable, and Diana still refused to acknowledge that it was happening, Edna had taken charge. And Diana, happily spending her days in the nursery, acquiesced to all of Edna’s suggestions.

She stopped going out, stopped seeing her friends, stopped calling them. When they came to visit, Edna told them that Diana had gone away for a while.

In a way it was true.

As the pregnancy developed, and Diana continued to ignore it, Edna realized that somehow her daughter had split part of herself away. Diana, Edna realized, had simply decided she was not pregnant.

Very quietly Edna set about finding out who the father was. It hadn’t been difficult—one of the ranch hands, a man named Travers, began hanging around the house, and eventually Edna spoke to him.

It was his idea that he was going to marry Diana.

Edna paid him off and sent him packing.

It was her pride that kept her from sending Diana away or even seeing a doctor.

To Edna, as to Diana, pregnancy without marriage was worse than death. When the baby came, Edna would see to it that it was disposed of.

And then the baby came.

Somehow Edna had managed.

The night it was born, the wind had blown, and
Diana, unprepared for what was to happen, had had a difficult time.

Near dawn, she had given birth to a baby daughter, a beautiful child.

After the child was born, Edna had taken it to the nursery and put it in a bassinet. And the child had begun crying.

When Diana woke up, after sleeping through the next day, the baby was still crying.

Diana ignored the sound.

Edna asked if Diana wanted to see her baby.

“What baby?”

Edna bit her lip.

“Your baby, Diana. Your baby girl. Don’t you want to see her?”

From the nursery, the baby’s crying was clearly audible.

“I don’t know what you mean, Mama,” Diana said.

Edna, unsure of what to do, did nothing. She left Diana’s room and went upstairs to tend to the baby.

But the baby, as if sensing its mother’s rejection, kept crying.

The crying went on for four days, and on the fifth day, the wind began to blow again.

That night, Edna woke up from a fitful sleep and listened to the sound of the wind screaming down from the mountains. She listened for the baby, but couldn’t hear it crying.

She went up to the nursery to be sure it was all right.

The cradle was empty.

She went downstairs again to the guest room, where Diana had delivered her baby and was now living.

It, too, was empty.

Edna searched the house, then went out into the night. She began walking toward the mine. Halfway there she met Diana coming down the road, her nightgown
covered with a robe, which she clutched tightly against the wind.

There was a strange look in her eyes, and she didn’t speak until Edna had led her back to the house. Then, when she was back in her bed, she looked up into her mother’s eyes.

“It’s the strangest thing,” she said. “Did you know that when the wind blows like this, you can hear something?”

“What?” Edna asked, though she knew the answer.

“A baby crying,” Diana said, “But it’s stopped now. I made it stop.” Then she drifted off to sleep.

Edna Amber sat up all night that night, trying to decide what to do. By dawn she made up her mind.

She would do nothing, and spend the rest of her life taking care of her daughter.

She would not have to live in shame, nor would Diana.

She was sure she could do it: Diana hadn’t the slightest idea of what had happened, and Edna could only pray that she would never remember.

Edna would protect her and take care of her. After all, Diana was all she had, and she loved her.

Besides, there was no way to bring the baby back.

   Edna came back to the present and glanced once more around the nursery, still remembering.

It had worked.

The years had gone by, and Diana had insisted on keeping the nursery just as it was. She was saving it, she said, for the time when she would get married and have a baby of her own. But really, Edna knew, Diana had kept the nursery for herself. At times she had even slept in the nursery, holding the teddy bear to her breast, cradling it as a mother cradles a child.

Edna controlled Diana’s life as best she could, and for a long time things were all right. There had been
the problem with Bill Henry, and then, ten years ago, the two nights Diana had spent in the hospital in Pueblo. But except for that, the years had not been bad.

Edna had coped.

But now it was coming apart. Diana was remembering.

Edna looked around the nursery once more and decided that it was time for it, too, to be taken apart.

When Diana took Christie away for the camping trip, she would begin.

Then, when the nursery was dismantled, she would decide what to do about Diana.

Edna knew in her heart that the time had come when Diana could no longer be controlled.