All That Lives (15 page)

“ ’Tis true.” Father came around the table and patted my back and I did feel warmed by the two of them standing either side
of me. John Jr. allowed the last note of his song to roll off his tongue, and as he took the instrument from his lips we heard
a knock on the door. I expected the Reverend, arriving to sit vigil with us, but instead it was the Thorns, with Thenny.

“Good evening to you, we hope we are not imposing.”

“Come in, come in, you must share our tea,” Mother said, inviting them to join us.

“No, please, we have come with an invitation to extend, for your Betsy to spend the evening at our home, and if it is your
pleasure, we will collect her now.” Mr. Thorn removed his hat but held it in his hands.

“How kind of you.” Mother looked uncertainly to Father, then to me, assessing how she should respond. Mr. Thorn cleared his
throat as if he was unsure he wished to speak.

“We thought perhaps your dreaded affliction might not follow her elsewhere,” he said, admitting his reasoning. Mrs. Thorn
nodded her head, nervous with concern and agreement.

“ ’Tis a thought we have not tested.” Father squeezed my shoulder giving a pragmatic response.

“Please, Betsy, please, say you will.” Thenny was excited and hopped from one foot to the other, awaiting my reply. To see
her did make me smile.

“May I, Mother?” Was it possible the evil might stay away from our home if I was not in residence?

“Well, all right, if you desire it so. How say you, Jack?” Mother tucked a stray piece of hair from my braid behind my ear
with affection.

“John Jr. shall fetch her in the morning,” Father replied and I was pleased to hear him give his permission. I raced upstairs
with Thenny to pack my nightdress and fresh stockings.

No sooner were the covers pulled about us and Mrs. Thorn withdrawn from Thenny’s room than Thenny did start in with all her
questions.

“Tell me everything. You must.” She sat up on her elbow and her dark brown eyes glistened with the light of the single candle
by our bed.

“It is difficult to speak of …” I lay on my back looking sideways at her eager face. It felt odd to be in a home other than
my own.

“But you must, I will tell no one, and swear to it.” Thenny waited, putting her hand on her heart, knowing her exuberant will
could pull bats from a cave in the daytime. I sighed, giving in with some relief.

“Tell no one, as ’tis Father’s wish we should be circumspect, despite the Reverend’s exhortations.” I propped the pillow further
up behind my head and turned to her, relating much of my tortures and experiences with many details. I kept my feelings and
conversations with my family members to myself, but the violent actions were enough to absorb Thenny. She listened with attention,
stopping my monologue only to express sympathy and anger toward all I had suffered, though I sensed she was greatly enjoying
the plotted nature of my recent days. I was exhausted at the close of telling it, but Thenny was infused with energy.

“Betsy, a witch must be the source of your bad troubles.”

“The Reverend believes it is a supernatural force.”

“Think, did you but once give Old Kate Batts a brass pin of your own? I hear say she can curse the one whose pin she has.”
I felt irritated, for if Thenny could hear my story and believe it came down to a pin in Kate Batts’s hand, obviously she
had not understood the extent of my torment.

“I wear my braid only down my back, not on my head.” I could not remember Kate Batts ever begging a pin from me.

“But you have pins, for special do’s. Perhaps you did lend her one. Or perhaps your mother lent her one, without your knowledge.”
Thenny seemed to feel sleep had eluded me for so many nights I could not be trusted to know what I had or had not done. “Old
Kate Batts might be a witch and you and I not know it,” she surmised.

“ ’Tis worse than a witch’s conjuring at our house.” Though I felt no liking for Old Kate, I doubted she possessed the know-how
to create such violence as was ours.

“We know not the ways of the witch.” Thenny’s eyes grew unfocused and I saw she was picturing all manner of possibilities.

“I know no reason for Kate Batts to suffer our family any trials. My mother is her friend and neighbor.” I discouraged Thenny,
growing further annoyed that I had not conveyed the immensity of our malignant manifestation, for if I had, she would not
insist Old Kate could be responsible. I looked at her, suddenly recalling her sour expression when Mary Batts won the prize
in composition, and it occurred to me perhaps she was making her suspicions up for her own ends.

“This is why I say so …” Thenny tapped my arm with impatience in a hurry to explain her reasoning, and I was anxious to hear
it, for I did not wish to think she would accuse Old Kate of witchcraft simply because the boy she liked favored Old Kate’s
daughter.

“Two months previous, I went with my mother to the store. There was still muddy snow on the ground and I waited in the carriage
while Mother went inside. I heard voices and around the side of the porch I saw your father and Old Kate, involved in an exchange
of words. She was talking of
her boundaries
and your father answered something about
his land,
but I could not make out any more. It ended when he tipped his hat and turned his back on her. She shouted after him,
‘I’ll remember this, Jack Bell, and you will be the worse for it.’
” Thenny shook her finger, imitating Old Kate brilliantly. “I heard her say so plain, Betsy!” She gripped my arm, as if she
could squeeze a proper response from me, but I did not know what to say. I’d heard Father complain Old Kate was a jealous
landowner, but I was unaware of any specific incident between them. I recalled her standing arms akimbo at our porch, suggesting
I be dosed with her demon potion, and I felt sick to my stomach. I knew if I told Thenny of it she would call for Old Kate’s
lynching. I thought of Mother and decided I should wait and see regarding Mrs. Batts.

“Thenny, I have yet to tell you of another thing entirely!” The subject of my becoming a woman was enough to distract her
for a few moments. It had not happened yet to her and she wished to know all about it. We heard Mrs. Thorn’s footsteps in
the hall, and she entered the room.

“Say your prayers, dear girls, for it is time to rest.”

“Oh no, Mother, we must have light all night or the witch that tortures Betsy will descend!” I knew Thenny was not afraid
of what she called the witch and she did not expect it to bother her in bed. She was simply wide awake and filled to the brim
with new information for her busy mind, and so did not wish to extinguish the candle.

“Thenny Thorn, you are an embarrassment to me.” Mrs. Thorn frowned at her daughter, but smiled warmly at me. “Pay no heed
to her silliness, Miss Betsy, for I am certain whatever has visited your home will not bother you at ours. Commence your prayers.”
She sat on the edge of the bed and picked at a stray thread from Thenny’s red patch quilt. Bowing her head she began reciting
the Lord’s Prayer along with us. “Our Father, who art in Heaven …” I heard her nervously snap the thread off, right when we
said Amen.

“Now, quiet.” Mrs. Thorn blew out the candle and left us alone. I looked around after her departure, noticing Thenny’s room
was much smaller than my own. There were no windows and so it felt like a cozy burrow. I breathed deeply, relaxing into Thenny’s
luxurious feather bed, hoping evil and violence could be left behind by way of a simple carriage ride. But as I snuggled beside
my friend, I heard the harsh descent of whistling wind enter the room.

“Betsy!” Thenny screamed and grasped me with both hands. “My hair, something pulls my hair!”

The violence attacked us both with as much force as it had ever unleashed. It ripped the covers from the bed and simultaneously
pulled our braids, slapping us with strong ice fingers. I tried to protect myself, curling with my head between my knees on
Thenny’s bed. I hoped she would follow my example but she was hysterical, screaming and crying even when the invisible let
up actively assaulting her. Mrs. Thorn appeared in the doorway and behaved as though the visitation had not been expected
in any way. I peeked from under my elbow and saw she held her candle high.

“Stop it now! This can’t be! I won’t have this in my house!”

Thenny’s screams were louder than the whistling wind, but I detected the smack of lips near my ear, and as I listened it evolved
into gulping swallows. I felt senseless having imagined it could have been otherwise.

The next morning, when my brothers came to fetch me, they reported in my absence the disturbances were no less at our home,
so we came to know the presence could occupy two places at one time. Over the next few evenings our trials continued and Mother
would not allow me back to school. “I would have you near to me, Miss Betsy,” was all the reasoning I could pull from her.
The boys and Drewry were allowed to make the journey and I depended on them to tell me all. Unfortunately, Drewry reported
that despite her assurances she would not, Thenny had spread the tale that an evil witch attacked our family.

“Did she speak to the source of the witchery?” I felt a coldness in my chest at the thought of what Thenny’s tongue could
do, but Drewry frowned and shook his head.

“I did confront her, Betsy, on the inaccuracy of her speech, but Thenny Thorn defended herself to me, relating how the class
has buzzed with malignant suppositions concerning what ails us, including the idea that all is the product of your overimaginative
mind!
‘I know your Betsy would never concoct such trouble even were she able!’
” Drewry managed a cloying imitation of Thenny to make me smile, aware how deeply I felt the pain of these false accusations.
“Thenny declared herself to me your true friend and confidante, but at recess she did mesmerize the schoolyard with stories
of the evening you spent in her bed accosted by the thing.”

“ ’Twas nothing to the many evenings you and I spend here!” I was frustrated hearing this gossip. How could Thenny be so unkind
as to speak of it without me present? And who was saying I had brought it on myself? Though during the day I might suffer
the emotional pains of false accusations and fear, come evening I knew I would suffer the real affliction itself, a fact that
penetrated my every moment. “Why would I bring such trauma to our home?”

“Never mind, I put a stop to her outrageous talk and hopefully did squash the rumors like so many worms on rocks.” Drewry
kept his eyes on mine and his lips twisted in a sly smile.

“Thank you,” I looked away, disinclined to hear what harsh words he had used. I knew it hardly mattered, as there was no stopping
malicious gossip once it had begun.

By the next Sunday morning at church, the lack of sleep and physical abuse suffered by all of us was apparent on our faces.
The night before, Reverend Johnston had expressed grave disappointment at his inability to communicate with what he believed
was an intelligent supernatural force. The whistling wind had developed a voicelike quality and more than before the Reverend
expected an answer to his favorite query, “If you can understand, please speak to us, tell us, who are you? Why are you here?”
But only indistinct utterances inside the cloud of noise responded. Weak and faltering, what it might answer had been impossible
to decipher. He stood slump-backed, leaning heavily against his pulpit while reading his sermon on God’s law, ignoring the
murmurs of concern rippling through our congregation.