The Silence of Trees (29 page)

"But I would never deny you anything that you cared about," I said. "I would never steal from you."

Oh no? Never?

"No. Never." I responded, but I felt a stab of guilt in my belly.

I saw you, Nadya.

"What? When?" I was afraid. But he couldn’t know. He was drunk that night.

I saw you burying something that night.

Oh my God. This was too much for one night. Too much.

I saw the bloodstained rags. You went to the grove of dead oak trees and dug with your bare hands. Why didn’t you tell me, Nadya?

"I didn’t know how," I answered. "Why didn’t you tell me you knew?"

I kept hoping some day you would tell me yourself.

"Oh, Pavlo." I wanted to turn around, to see if he were really there. To touch him, but I was afraid. Afraid of what I would see. Afraid he would vanish.

"All these years, you never told me," I said.

All these years you never told me.

"So you kept the letter to punish me? Is that why?"

The envelope was already open. The letter from your sister was not there. Only the note addressed: ‘Dear Nadya.’ You ask why I took it. Curiosity? Jealousy? I could say it was to protect you, but in fact, it was to protect me.

"You robbed me of the chance to say goodbye," I whispered.

And what did you rob me of, Nadya?

His words stung, and I began to weep. "I’m sorry, Pavlo."

I felt a kiss on the top of my head, and I knew he was gone.

My sleep was fitful again that night, filled with disturbing dreams. In the morning, I woke early and returned to the pile of mail on the table. The letter from Halya was still there, as was the envelope from Andriy Polotsky. I opened it, and inside was a ticket to see his latest play Angel’s Lullaby, this time in Chicago. No note, just a single ticket for opening night on the following week. I set it aside, not planning to go. I had had enough brushes with the past. I was ready to start living in the present.

If only my Baba were alive, I could ask her for some herbs or an incantation to chase away the sadness and doubt, to rid me of ghosts and regrets. Baba always knew the right thing to say or do.

I remembered that when we went to visit her, just after our Dido Mykola died, Baba would sometimes light a red candle and recite the following verse while gazing into the flame:

"Dear Father, Holy Spirit of Fire,

be kind and gentle to me.

Burn away my heartache and sorrow,

so my heart can be free."

Baba did this ritual nightly, to help ease the pain of her grief. I once asked her if it really worked.

"Of course it works, little mouse," she answered, collecting the melted wax to place in a bowl of water. The shape it took would give her hints about the future. "The Holy Spirit of Fire is powerful," Baba continues. "He can create and destroy. Fire is one of the greatest gifts we have been given. It brings us life, and we must honor it."

I decided to try for myself. I took out a new candle, a red one, and set it on the table in front of me. I drew the curtains and turned off the lights. Because the day was overcast, the room was quite dark. I lit the candle with a match and imagined the pain being burned away from my heart. I repeated the incantation:

"Dear Father, Holy Spirit of Fire,

be kind and gentle to me.

Burn away my heartache and sorrow—"

I wasn’t able to complete the verse because suddenly a bird flew into the glass of my kitchen window, and the candle flame I had lit shot up to the ceiling, burning a dark spot in the shape of a cloud onto the plaster. I crossed myself and threw the candle into the sink.

I wasn’t sure what to do next. I was shaken and unsure of what had transpired. I only knew that it was a bad omen, a sign that all was not well in my home and my life. I needed help. I decided to call Katya.

"Are you busy?" I asked her over the telephone.

"What’s wrong Mama?" she asked, her voice anxious.

"I need help. You have all kinds of strange friends, don’t you?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"I just mean that they have a wide range of interests, right?"

"I guess so, Mama. What’s this all about?"

"I’ve had a rough day and a weird omen. My house has an unpleasant feeling, and I need some help, some advice."

"You think the domovyk is unhappy?" she asked.

"Worse, Katya. He may have left, and I’m not sure if something else has come in his place."

"Do you mind if I bring a friend? She has experience with this kind of thing," Katya said.

"Yes, please do. The more help, the better. I’ll make some tea." I walked over to the cupboard.

"We’ll be right over." She said.

Within the hour the doorbell rang. I opened the door and standing beside Katya was a tall, striking woman with long, black hair streaked with grey. For a minute, I thought it was Ana. There was something about her that reminded me of my friend. Maybe it was the mischief in her smile or the intensity of her eyes.

"Hi, Kat’s mom. I’m Robin. So you have an icky vibe in your house and we need to get it out, eh?"

I kissed Katya and said, "Hello Robin. Please, come in. Let’s talk in the kitchen."

The women entered, removed their shoes and followed me into the kitchen. Robin had brought a bag filled with an assortment of objects. I was curious about the contents. She saw me looking at it and smiled.

"I wasn’t sure what we would need, so I threw a few things together." Robin sat down at the table and looked around the kitchen. "So, what’s been happening here? I’m sensing a lot of emotion, sadness especially. You have any unusual visitors in the night?"

I wasn’t prepared to share this with my daughter, let alone a stranger. I thought of the night when the vorozhka came. Did this Robin need to know my secrets in order to help me? I took a deep breath and explained Pavlo’s death, the letters and my feelings of guilt, anger, and betrayal. While I talked, both women watched me carefully, listening attentively. I realized that it was the first time I had talked openly like this since Ana died. It felt good to get some of my thoughts out. I missed the company of female friends. After I finished, Robin stood up.

"Well, we can talk more later," she said, "but I need to get started, now that I have some perspective."

From her bag she removed a large jar of sea salt, three large pillar candles, a bag of herbs, a small bowl of sand, disks of charcoal, some black stones, a rattle, a few sticks of incense, and some matches.

"When did you last thoroughly cleaned the house?" she asked.

"Just yesterday," I answered.

"Perfect. That’s important. We need to turn off all the lights, and you’ll have to do exactly as I say. Please don’t interrupt or ask questions. You must trust me. Do you trust me?"

I didn’t know this woman, but the facts that she was Katya’s dear friend and she reminded me of Ana allowed me to trust her.

"I trust you."

"Good. Let’s begin." We went around the house shutting off lights and closing curtains. Then Robin lit three candles, giving one to me and the second to Katya. The third she left burning in the kitchen. She lit the incense, and a warm, spicy scent filled the room. She set the incense holder next to that candle and made a circle of the black stones around both. She put the rattle beside them.

Then Robin lit the charcoal and set it on the sand. On the burning disk she placed several pinches of the herbs from the bag. New smells emerged, sweet and earthy, heavy and thick. She handed the salt to Katya and took the bowl in her hand. We walked into the living room and stood in the darkness. I could barely see Robin’s figure as she scattered salt in the corners of the rooms and created shapes in smoke from the burning herbs.

I saw shadows in the corners, heard creaking and scratching. There, in the darkness, I felt like I was a child at home again, afraid of creatures in the dark.

Don’t be afraid, a voice whispered. It sounded like Liliana, the vorozhka.

Ahead of me, Robin had become transformed in the firelight. I saw her spirit as fierce and strong, like the vorozhka. This woman also had the spirit of a warrior. I had no doubt she could vanquish whatever had entered my home. She looked even taller in the dark. Her eyes reflected the candlelight, and her movements seemed bold and larger than life. It was like a terrible dance, the swaying of her arm, the way the smoke wrapped around her like a serpent, the sound of salt hitting the windowsills. I watched as something scurried across the floor. It must have been Khvostyk, but moments later I saw him dozing on the kitchen chair.

We returned to the kitchen and set down the salt and burning herbs. Robin handed me the rattle.

"Now I want you to go from room to room, and in every corner and at every threshold I need you to shake this rattle with all your strength. Hold firm to the intention that you want all negative energies to leave your home and never to return. You have to do this alone. We’ll wait here for you. Do you understand?"

I nodded and walked back into the living room. I followed her directions and shook the rattle at the corners and thresholds, commanding the negative energies as she called them—evil spirits as I thought of them—to leave and never return. I felt cold, and the hairs on my neck began to prickle. Again, I saw the corpse of Stephan’s mother, this time standing in the doorway to my bedroom. She was one of the unquiet dead and must have followed me home.

I shook the rattle and she laughed. I closed my eyes and blew with my breath, bidding her to leave. When I opened my eyes she was gone, and I felt somehow lighter. I crossed myself three times and continued through the other rooms, but I knew that with her departure, my home would return to its happy state.

When I went back to the kitchen, Robin pinched the candle flames with her fingers and we sat in darkness for a few minutes. I felt myself getting tired as the drama of the last few days took its toll on my body.

"Now let’s turn on all the lights and open all the windows." Robin instructed. "It is night, but the light of the full moon will help clear away any residual negativity."

We did as she asked, and then sat huddled in our jackets drinking hot tea in the kitchen for an hour.

"These stones are for you. Place them in your icon corner along with this pouch." She filled a small bag with the herbs and added a pinch of black pepper and one black stone. "The herbs are angelica and sage; the stone is black tourmaline. I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble, but they will help protect you, just in case."

"Do you have a priest from your church that you trust?"

It had been a while since I had talked with any of them, but yes, I trusted our pastor, so I nodded.

"I would call him and ask him to come with holy water to do a proper house blessing."

I agreed and made a mental note to call first thing in the morning.

"So what was it?" Katya asked, speaking for the first time since her arrival. "I felt something sweep by us at the end, then the room felt brighter and lighter."

"Back home, we called it the unquiet dead," I answered. "Spirits, who for many reasons refuse to move on and instead choose to remain here and torment the living."

"I call them negative entities," Robin said. "They are often attracted to people who are discouraged, afraid, depressed. They feed off guilt, doubt, despair." Robin looked at me. "Have you been feeling particularly sensitive lately?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Prophetic dreams, whispers, visions? I get the sense that there’s been a lot of activity around you lately. Your guides have been sending you messages."

"My guides?" I asked, thinking of Ana, Liliana, Baba.

"Yes, spirits who are there to help you in life, like guardian angels. They may be here to teach you, advise you, warn you. Sometimes they were people you knew, sometimes not."

"Oh, yes." I answered.

"Well, I hope you’ve been paying attention because they’re all worried about you."

"I think I’ve gotten the message. How do you know all these things?" I asked Robin, curious about this woman.

She smiled. "I got my Ph.D. in Comparative Religion, so I’ve studied mythologies and folklore from around the world. I also studied with shamans, wise women, and teachers from many countries. There’s so much to learn, and I’m fascinated by all of it."

I saw Katya looking at her with admiration. She really cared for this woman, like I loved Ana. Ana would have really enjoyed our conversation. I could just imagine her sitting with us, and for a moment, she was there and winked at me. Then she was gone.

We talked for a little while and then closed the windows. Katya and Robin got ready to leave. I walked them to the door.

"I’ll call you tomorrow, Ma." Katya said. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I am, thank you—for everything." I gave her a hug. Then I hugged Robin. "Thank you, too. I owe you a fabulous home-cooked meal."

Robin laughed a great big laugh. "You’ve got yourself a deal." She looked serious for a minute. "One last message: Use the ticket. I don’t know what that means, but it’s important."