All That Lives (30 page)

Wait just a moment and I will see where he is at.

There was silence in the room except for Joel slurping the last of his soup from his bowl.

Your Jess is safe at home. He sits at his pinewood table discussing with his good wife, Martha, the positive results of his
journey.

“I must thank you again, gentle Being, for you have set my mind at rest on the subject.” Mother rose, smiling, turning to
my brother. “Come, Richard, let us sit a spell on the porch together. There is still light and the rain has ceased.”

I went to the parlor to pick up the mending I was working on before joining them outside. Joel had busted the seams of his
linen summer trousers and I was adding a new strip of cloth in the crotch. Mother had Richard on her lap when I came out,
and they were rocking in her hickory chair.

“Were you very frightened, love?” She spoke softly into his wavy brown locks, shining from the oil treatments.

“Yes, Mother. I never shall play near a whirlpool, never, ever.” Richard’s bare toes, cleansed of the red mud by the bath
Mother had given him before dinner, reached the floor, yet he rested his head on Mother’s shoulder, and rubbed his cheek against
her. It made my heart crack like the split-open elm, to see him, such a big boy, and so solemn.

The air had cooled slightly, and showery drops of water fell from the round pears weighting nearly every branch of the tall
trees in front of the house. The smell of the rain was delicious, sweet, green and delicate, and the wind had turned to refreshing
breezes. A blue jay preened his feathers at the well and gave a shrill cry that startled me. I accidentally pricked my finger
with my sewing needle and, though it bled, I did not cry out.

The next morning Jesse came round to see us and after divulging his good news of high markets in Springfield, at which we
all rejoiced, he set his hat ceremoniously on the table and gave this report.

“Yesterday, shortly upon my return, I was set at the table talking with Martha, when the wind blew open our door.” Jesse paused
to be certain all of us gathered at the breakfast table were listening. “This was after the storm had passed. All of a sudden,
the wood beneath my hands began to shake so violently I suspected an earthquake, or I knew not what. I was quick to my feet,
and taking Martha by the arm, we ran outside, only to find nothing moving, not even a wind in the leaves. In truth, it was
unnaturally still in our yard, and at once I recognized it was that evil menace that haunts this family, come nattering at
us. I know it to be so, for finding the natural world in order, we returned into the house,
very much disturbed,
and on the table lay a pile of stones which certainly were not there moments previous.” Jesse did not need to convince us
of the Being’s capabilities, but no one interrupted him to say so, for clearly he was not finished. He took a sharp breath
in.

“The time has come when we must be rid of this affliction. Martha and I will make our way to South Carolina, as others before
us have done.” Mother locked her knuckles tight together on the tabletop and was about to speak, but Jesse nervously continued.
“Think on my life here! When I travel to our church or store, I must along the road pass Old Kate’s stall—
Get your Bell Witch amulets!
She uses our good name! Mine and my father’s good name, in the hope strangers passing through our district will pay to fend
off the demon that accosts us.” Jesse looked to Father, who did not meet his gaze but clearly understood. I felt the pinch
of a louse biting at my scalp and I too clearly understood my brother’s emotions.

“Dear Jesse, I hesitate to confess
I
was the cause of yesterday’s discomfort, for I did wonder aloud regarding your welfare after the storm.” Mother reached across
the table to take Jesse’s hands in hers, to quell his thought of leaving.

“No, Mother, you are not the cause of my misery.” Jesse pulled his hands from under hers and banged his fist down, raising
his voice. “I seek only a life unmarred by stones across the tabletop!” A silence fell on all of us, contemplating his declaration.
I wanted suddenly to tell him how the Spirit had saved Richard’s life, but he spoke again. “I shall escape this torment. I
wish to journey where the weather is warmer and where the Indian corn increases with no effort, so little pains will subsist
a large family. I wish to go where the grounds are low and a great variety of mast is said to thrive.” It was clear Jesse
had thought carefully, creating his plan, all the while saying nothing to us. He tried to soften the blow it was for Mother
to hear the news. “I cannot stay here, Mother,” he took up her hand regretfully, “for my heart is weak as a rocky ridge, so
wretchedly poor it could not grow potatoes.”

“Jesse, you need not grow potatoes with your heart.” Mother patted his hand in hers and frowned. “You have land a plenty here
and Father has offered to help you in tobacco, and what of Martha?” She turned to her daughter-in-law. “Martha, what say you
of this plan?” Mother expected Martha to object wherein Mother promised with her eyes to support her, but Martha sighed and
looked to Jesse.

“It will be as Jesse wills, for I have put my faith in him,” she said, sliding her hand under her husband’s. “But surely,
I will miss you all!” Martha’s acceptance was the clearest indicator my eldest brother was quite serious regarding his imminent
departure from the district. Mother let her head drop into her own arms on the table, and began to cry.

“Jesse, Jesse, how can you leave us? How do you know the Spirit will not follow you wherever you may go?”

I will not.

The Spirit broke gently into the discussion, and I realized it must have been present all the while.

“Damn you, evil menace!” Jesse cursed it loudly, looking up.

“Please, speak unto this boy, promise you will trouble him no more!” Mother pleaded with the Being, beside herself with frustration.

Luce, Luce, how I hate to see you unhappy, but in this, your desire will not be fulfilled. Your Jesse will do well in black-eyed
peas. His wife will rise out of bed early, while he lies and snores until the sun has risen one third of its course, and dispersed
all the unwholesome damps, and even with this tendency to laziness, his crops will prosper and the fruit of his loins will
multiply.

The mention of her future grandchildren stopped Mother’s tears. It was as if their ghosts danced happily around the table
on some future summer day, and we all absorbed the Spirit’s prediction of my brother’s life, seeming a likely and accurate
one, for Jesse had always liked to lie in bed in the morning.

“Will you return, to visit?” Mother reached again across the tabletop, covering Jesse’s hands with hers.

“We are not leaving this moment, Mother. It will take some time to set our affairs in order,” Jesse reassured her. He was
a grown man. He did not need their permission, he had only intended to inform them. Slowly he withdrew his hand and patted
Mother’s, a half smile on his lips.

“What say you, Father?” He turned to Father, who had been silent all the while.

“I have the names of kinsmen for you, Jesse.” Father nodded, but I saw Jesse’s decision irritated him. I wondered if he was
jealous his eldest son might actually escape the torment Father himself must continue to endure. The good news of the markets
was heavily shadowed by the sadness that fell over us all, as we contemplated the prospect of no more Jesse and Martha chattering
on our Sunday ride to church. No more girlish talk over sewing. I wished heartily the Spirit would go away rather than my
brother, but I knew it mattered not what I wished.

The September morning after Jesse and Martha departed, our lice infestation ceased. From one day to the next, we were freed
from the pestilence. Our first Sunday back amongst the congregation, the Reverend Johnston and Calvin Justice came to our
home after the service for the Sunday meal, and the Reverend wasted no time inside the door before complimenting Mother for
her gracious invitation.

“We have suffered, lacking your good company through so much of the summer season.”

“And we have missed you also, dear Reverend. We are at last redeemed from our scourge here on this farm, and yet, another
worldly inconvenience now assails us.” Mother took Calvin Justice’s topcoat from him.

“Pray, what can it be?” the Reverend inquired, hanging his own coat on the hallway peg. I watched him from where I sat in
the parlor, sewing the new gray linsey-woolsey trousers Mother and I were making for John Jr.

“We have had some news.” Mother bade the men to take their seats. I nodded to them but did not rise, for I was on the crucial
final knot of a trouser leg. I held the needle up as my excuse, and the golden evening sun from the parlor window flashed
over it, sending a spark of light into the room.

“Miss Betsy,” the Reverend nodded to me and settled in Mother’s chair, while Calvin Justice sat on the other side of the hearth.
“What news?”

“We have had a message regarding a share in an estate I hold in North Carolina.” Father cleared his hoarse throat and entered
the parlor with John Jr., each of them carrying a straight-back chair from the dining table. Father did not go to his desk
for his flask, but set himself beside Calvin Justice to further explain.

“Affairs in this estate are coming to a close and I must send a representative.” The Reverend and Calvin Justice listened
intently, and I believe they wondered if Father was seeking volunteers, for they both looked troubled. “John Jr. will depart
in the morning and we seek your wise advice and counsel for him, on this, his farewell evening.”

“Goodness, Jack.” The Reverend’s round face was surprised, but I thought I saw a shade of relief in his frown. “Must he travel
over the Great Smoky Mountains, with the winter on its way?”

“ ’Tis hardly winter yet, Reverend, but yes, he must cross the mountains. We are planning his route across Newfound Gap, and
from there he may rest at beautiful Lake Lure.” Father clapped a hand down on John Jr.’s knee, to reassure him, speaking of
the journey ahead.

“I hear bandits line the road along the French Brood River. He ought to stay his horse from there.” Calvin Justice leaned
forward and clasped his hands together, squeezing his knuckles, sparing the details. “However, there is a wayfarer’s house
of excellent report just this side of Cullowhee.”

“Were it not Cullowhee where the Injuns retreated?” The Reverend Johnston turned to him with surprise.

“It was, but there are none left living there, and a pleasant station exists in that place today. You have my word on it,
for I rested there myself on my journey from the Methodist seminary.”

“In that desolate mountain territory, thieves and other anti-religious men are known to prowl.” The Reverend shook his head
with worry, but Mother adopted a positive attitude.

“Be not overly concerned, dear Reverend, not every non-believer is a dangerous man.” I thought of Frank Miles and his good
soul, as the man who proved her statement absolutely. I knew Mother was unhappy, as I was, that Father was sending John Jr.
off to North Carolina, but she was making the best of it. I tied the final knots in the thread most reluctantly. Since Jesse
and Martha had departed, I found I missed them much more than I’d expected and losing John Jr. felt unbearable. Who would
be next?

Your John should stay at home where he will be useful. This journey will prove futile, as the estate is not yet settled and
cannot be settled for some time to come.

The Spirit offered its own view of the situation.

“Go from here!” Father shouted, standing, his face noticeably red with anger. “Return to Hell, where you belong!” The fury
of his voice caused everyone to tense and sit up straighter. No one wished to provoke the Being into violent tortures on the
night before John Jr.’s departure. We were all surprised to hear the Spirit laughing its retort.

You know nothing, old Jack. If John Jr. leaves this house tomorrow he will have a hard trip without reward. The sky will throw
fire and storm after storm will deluge the roadways until his finest horse sinks to its knees in mud. He will grow ill from
lack of nourishment and cry bitter tears. All for nothing, for when he reaches his destination, he will discover several months
must pass until the money will be available to him. Good son that he is to you, he will trouble himself greatly with the persons
there, and stay long in torturous expectation of an outcome other than this truth I here predict, yet when he returns, John
Jr. will be empty-handed and so much the worse for wear.

This picture was bleak indeed and I shuddered as the images so accurately described filled my mind. I was nearly overcome
by the urge to cry out and throw myself across John Jr.’s feet to beg him, please, listen to this vision of the future, but
the Spirit spoke before I could, in a greatly softened tone.

Soon to this farm will come a young lady from Virginia, wealthy and in possession of charms more plentiful and sweet than
the blooms on Luce’s roses. Her slaves are numerous and her family is outstanding, of old money. She will please you, John
Jr., unlike any other in this lifetime, and if you stay at home, you will certainly win her heart.