Touched (22 page)

“What she saw would change her life forever. A Pascagoula warrior was bathing in the river, splashing and laughing at his own pleasure. Even as Anola hid in the bushes, the young warrior stood up, water sliding down his gleaming body, and came toward her.

“Legend has it that Anola rose from her hiding place at the sight of him. He saw her, and they stood staring at each other for a long time, while all the creatures of the forest stilled at the thing that was happening before them. Anola and Altama fell instantly in love. The beautiful young maiden never went back to reclaim her treasures on the banks of the river or her wedding gown or her intended groom. She walked straight into the river and swam across with Altama, the prince of the Pascagoula tribe.”

Doggett’s voice lowered, and he looked down at the tips of his boots pointed into the air. Almost self-consciously, he reached and brushed at the top of them as if he’d suddenly noticed they were dusty.

“I didn’t expect a love story.” JoHanna’s comment was wry, but her lips were slightly parted and moist. She’d been as affected by the tale as the rest of us.

“Did they live happily ever after?” Floyd asked.

“No, they didn’t.” Doggett’s answer took us all by surprise. “I wish I could say they did. I hadn’t really thought of it before, but not even in legend do the Indians have happy endings. The love between the beautiful Anola and her warrior prince Altama ended in a war.” He looked down at the meaningless designs he’d drawn in the dirt.

“Did Altama and the Pascagoulas win?” Duncan asked, prodding him for more detail.

Doggett sighed, as if the events he recounted had just happened in the past week. “It was the night of the full moon when the Biloxis attacked the Pascagoula, intending to kill them or take them as slaves.”

“The Indians had slaves?” Duncan was impressed.

“Slavery is an ancient practice,” JoHanna answered her and then lifted a finger to her lips so that Doggett could finish the story.

“Anola climbed to the highest bluff of the river. She’d selected the spot so that the moon silhouetted her, so that the Biloxis would know her shape. She called out to her father, begging him to stop the bloodshed. She told him that she had gone with Altama of her own free will and that she loved him more than life. She pleaded with him, as the daughter of his heart, to call a truce and for both tribes to live in peace. But her father paid her no heed. As the bride of Altama, she was no longer a Biloxi.”

“How could he be so cruel?” Duncan was crying.

“The Pascagoulas were a gentler tribe, and they had been decimated by high fevers and sickness. Worse than death, though, they feared slavery. It was Anola who found the solution to their dilemma. Calling the tribe around her, she led them to the edge of the water where the moon silvered a path to the land of the spirits. Her sweet voice, thickened by tears, directed them as they all joined hands, forming one straight line down a sand bar much like the one in front of us. Fearing death less than slavery, they walked into the water of the river, singing their death chant as they drowned. On still nights, when the moon is full and the color of blood, you can hear their voices beneath the water.”

Wind rattled through the wild wisteria above me, sending down a sudden scattering of leaves. A young female cardinal, her reddish gray feathers less obvious than her mate, perched on a limb beside Doggett and eyed Pecos. She gave two long trills that ended on high notes, as if she questioned the rooster about the company he kept.

“Is that a true story?” Duncan’s voice held hope that it was and hope that it wasn’t.

“It’s a legend of my people. It happened long before I was born, but I can tell you that it’s true about the singing. That’s why the river is called the Singing River.”

“You’ve heard it?” Floyd asked.

“Yes, on two occasions. Both in the light of the Hunter’s Moon.”

Duncan reached over and touched his shin. “Will you take us to hear it, this October, on the next full moon?”

Doggett looked beyond her at JoHanna, waiting to see her response to the request. JoHanna’s nod was slight, but it was there.

“Of course. I’d be delighted, but you have to promise me that by then you’ll be walking. I want us to wade into the water a bit, so we can feel the vibration of the voices against our skin.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but stopped. I had no right to object, but I could not believe JoHanna was going along with such foolishness. Duncan walking into the river in October at night. It was insane. What if she wasn’t walking by then? It was wrong to put such pressure on the child.

“I’ll be walking by then, don’t you think?” Duncan’s faith was shining in her eyes. “You’ll help me, won’t you, John?”

“As much as you need me,” he answered.

“Can we work on my legs some more in the river?”

Once again Doggett waited for JoHanna’s nod. “Certainly, but not too much longer. It has to go a bit at a time. Waking up a muscle is like waking up a person. You don’t want to do it fast and startle her.”

Duncan laughed, and Floyd stood without being told to carry her back to the water. JoHanna rose and I did, too.

“I think I’m going to go back and help Aunt Sadie with some herbs. She said she’d show me some of the things she uses to stop bleeding. I’d really like to learn.”

JoHanna wasn’t fooled by my earnest little speech, but she didn’t press me.

“It’s not much fun to sit in the hot sand.” Her glance traveled down to my skirt. “Are you bleeding?”

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “I just can’t be certain. I’m perfectly fine, but I’ve had enough of the sun. And I do want to learn what Sadie is willing to teach me.”

“She’s virtually a witch.” JoHanna handed me her hat. “Wear that home. The top of your head is already glowing, even here in the shade.”

“What about …”

“Believe it or not, the way my hair is cut it deflects the sun.”

It was the craziest thing I’d ever heard, and it made me laugh.

“Go on, now. Just take your time and be careful. You want me to walk you back?”

“And leave Duncan in the hands of John Doggett and Floyd? Not on your life.”

She laughed again and waved me toward the tunnel of green even as she turned back to the river and the two men standing waist-deep, their boots and shoes scattered like Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs as a trail back the way they’d come. Duncan’s squall of mock horror was the final straw. JoHanna was moving away from me toward her child even before she knew it. She turned back, still walking away. “Be careful, Mattie. And don’t worry. Everything is fine here. Duncan is getting better.”

I waved, saying nothing, and turned toward the road.

I took my time, examining strange leaves and bushes, plucking several things I wanted Aunt Sadie to name. Maybe I’d even bring her something she needed. I took only the unusual, sometimes pulling up leaf, flower, root and all. As I grew more absorbed in my collecting, I felt the anxiety slip away from me. Perhaps John Doggett was exactly what he said, a writer who was part-Indian and loved the area and had simply come to write about it. Maybe it was my own attraction to him that I felt, and not JoHanna’s. Although he frightened me for reasons I couldn’t fathom, I was still honest enough with myself to admit that he fascinated me. And excited me.

In truth, he tempted me, offering me some indefinable something that seemed both delicious and dangerous all at once. Forbidden. And again I thought of the snake, and of Adam and Eve.

As it was, my thoughts were already a bit sinister when he stepped out of the woods not five feet in front of me.

I didn’t scream, but I bit the inside of my mouth in my efforts not to do so. “What do you want?” The question was rudely put.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, Mattie. I took a shortcut through the woods to catch you before you got too far along.”

“Where’s JoHanna and Duncan?”

“In the river with Floyd. Waiting for me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“A point of curiosity. Why don’t you like me? Or should I say why do you dislike me so strongly? I’ve done nothing to harm you.”

I thought perhaps he knew already and was merely taunting me, but his dark eyes were troubled.

“I’d like to be your friend.”

His directness forced me to look down. I could not meet him with openness.

“You think I’ll do something to harm JoHanna, don’t you?”

That brought my head up, and my gaze locked with his. “Yes.”

“I’d lie if I said I wasn’t drawn to her.”

There it was, between us. “She’s married to Will, and she loves him.” I felt as if I couldn’t get enough air to make my sentences complete. “They love each other. Don’t mess with them, Doggett. Leave them in peace.”

He didn’t mock me, as I expected. “I mean her no harm.”

“And Will? Can you say the same of him?”

His smile was not mocking, but sad. “He has a champion in you, so he must be a good man. I can see that you’re a little bit in love with him yourself.”

“I’d never—”

He shook his head slowly, stopping my denial before it could be spoken. “You’re a noble young woman, Mattie. I don’t question that at all. And far too young to be married to Elikah Mills.”

His use of Elikah’s name was like a sharp slap. “What do you know of Elikah?”

“Enough.” He didn’t look away from me.

I remembered then that he’d said he heard the singing of the drowned Indians twice, both on the night of the Hunter’s Moon. So he’d been in Fitler, or somewhere along the river, for at least two years. Had he been in Jexville? Had Elikah sent him to find me? I opened my mouth to find air, I was suffocating.

His hands grabbed my arms. “Steady,” he said, watching me. “Elikah is some kind of man that the mention of his name terrifies his new bride.”

There was scorn in his voice, and I knew he hadn’t been sent to spy on me or bring me home.

“How do you know my husband?”

His dark gaze was shadowed by what looked like pity. “Do you want the truth?”

I shook off his hands. “Of course I want the truth.”

“I know Elikah Mills by reputation. He has one in some of the bigger towns.”

A wave of shame smashed over me, but I stood my ground, refusing to look away from him. I knew what reputation Elikah must have been building.

“I only meant to say that I see goodness in you. And innocence. I regret that you married Elikah, because I see little goodness in him.”

As much as I wanted to defend my husband, I could not. I swallowed. “I didn’t choose my husband, but I have chosen my friends. Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do anything that makes trouble for JoHanna or Duncan.” I swung away from him and started down the sandy road back to Fitler. Just above the tops of the big oaks in the distance I could see the blackened scaffolding of some of the taller buildings.

I felt his gaze on my back as I hurried along, but he didn’t call out to me and I didn’t turn around until I had rounded a curve. Sneaking back, I peeked around a big live oak and found the roadway empty.

He’d undoubtedly stepped back into the woods, taking some shortcut that I didn’t know. But I had the most disturbing sensation that he’d completely disappeared.

Twenty-one

F
ROM the flowers, roots, and leaves that I’d gathered, Aunt Sadie put five out to dry. One small plant, less than a foot tall with dull yellow trumpet flowers that opened on deep purple throats, she continued to examine. I’d picked it more for its flower than anything, but Aunt Sadie held it in her palm as if it weighed at least five pounds.

“What is it?” I reached to touch it, but she lowered her hand.

“Folks call it several things. Where’d you find it?”

Intrigued by what once had been a white picket fence, I had wandered off the road toward an old homesite. “In a small cemetery. Eckhart was the name on the tombstones.” I felt like I was confessing to trespassing. “The place had been abandoned a long time. Nothing left but a chimney and some old boards.”

“I know the place.” Aunt Sadie went to the stove and turned on the kettle, the plant still in her hand. “Was it growing by the road?”

“I was picking those spider lilies around a crepe myrtle and I saw the old headstones. When I went over to look, the flowers caught my eye. They’re unusual.”

“Were there more?”

“Just around one grave. Lillith Eckhart. She died in 1885. She wasn’t all that old either. She was born during the war.”

Sadie lifted her hand and stared at the plant. “The War Between the States. Lillith was close to my age, we both came to Fitler about the same time. She was a beautiful young woman when I knew her.” She pinched a leaf and sniffed it, backing off it quickly. “Smells like tobacco.”

I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “What kind of plant is it?”

“Folks call it Jupiter bean, or devil’s eye.”

“Is it a good plant?”

“Yes. It can be very soothing to a person in an agitated state.”

“Like chamomile tea.” Aunt Sadie had given me more than one cup of that, and it did make me relax.

“Yes.” She went out to the porch and put the plant down in a shady corner.

“Is it the root or the leaves?” I asked her. She’d been telling me how different plants had different parts that were useful.

“Both of those, and in a few weeks it’ll go to seed. Those are good to use, too. But there isn’t a great need for devil’s eye when there’s chamomile tea.” She put her hand on the kettle just as it started to whistle. “How about some tea and a nap for you? That sun has blistered your skin and drained your energy. You look done in, young-un.”

I was exhausted. The sun, the anxiety of John Doggett’s presence, then the coolness of the house, the safety that I felt in Aunt Sadie’s presence, all had combined to sap my energy. I had to admit that I wasn’t as strong as I normally was. “I think I’d like a nap if you don’t want me to help you with the plants.”

“Take your rest while Duncan and that rooster are out of the house. Lands sake, why I ever let that fowl in my home I’ll never know. Filthy creature.”

I smiled at the emotion in her voice. I was the only one she could speak to about Pecos. Duncan, Floyd, and JoHanna defended the bird’s right to be indoors. Even I had kindlier feelings toward him since he’d not taken to Doggett.

The thought of Doggett made me frown, something that Aunt Sadie didn’t miss.

“Anything wrong?”

“That man, John Doggett, he says he’s a writer. Is it true?”

“I’d heard he was living somewhere up on the Chickasawhay and working on some kind of history story. Up until yesterday I thought he’d left the area, though.”

“Then he’s been here a good while?”

“He comes and goes. Just when folks get used to him being around, he’s gone. I’ve heard he’s part Indian.”

“He is, or so he claims.”

Aunt Sadie’s interest was piqued. “Up until he stood in the yard yesterday, I was beginning to think he was a ghost. There’s been talk, but hardly anyone actually claimed to have laid eyes on him. He’s a handsome devil.”

He was handsome, but I didn’t want to admit it. “He’s different.” I shrugged one shoulder and accepted the cup of chamomile tea she’d steeped for me. The honey jar was sticky as I moved it beside my cup. “He’s down at the river with Duncan and JoHanna and Floyd.” I glanced up to see what reaction that drew. None, to my disappointment. I might have said Nell Anderson was there.

Aunt Sadie wrang out a dishcloth to wipe down the stove top. “I hope JoHanna finds out about him. Satisfy my curiosity. He comes and goes, but he mostly keeps to himself.” She chuckled softly. “I like that in a person. Shows they can get along with themselves. Lots of people can’t do that.”

“Or else they have something to hide.”

Aunt Sadie’s smile faded. “What is it, Mattie?”

I held the hot tea, glad for the feel of the thick cup in my hand. “I think he likes JoHanna.”

She didn’t register any reaction, but she pulled out a chair and sat down on the edge of it. “Are they up on the sandbar?”

I nodded. “They’re working on Duncan’s legs. Mr. Doggett said she’d be able to walk by the full moon in October. I hope she isn’t disappointed.”

Sadie dried her hands on her apron, stood, then reached around behind her to untie it. She picked up JoHanna’s hat that I’d put on the chair beside me.

“I think I’d better take this up to her. She’s getting a little too old to have the sun beating down on her face.”

“Want me to go with you?”

She shook her head. “No, you just take a nap. I need to look for some sassafras root, and there’s a patch not far from the sandbar. I can kill two birds with one stone.” She plopped the hat on her head and started toward the front door, turning back with a sly smile and a little lift of her chin. “When I was a young woman I loved my hats. I suppose JoHanna takes after me in that regard. Even now, I put on a hat and I think I can still strut.” She closed the door behind her, softly, as she left the house.

I was still smiling as I finished my tea and unbuttoned my blouse and skirt. The heavy white sheets of my bed looked awfully inviting.

I awoke to the wonderful smell of something baking and the buzz of conversation in the kitchen. Duncan’s laughter swung, bell-like, as if the wind blew it to me in soft waves. Stretching, I lay in bed and listened, a shameless eavesdropper on the McVay clan. Their lively talk soothed me, reminding me of the rare mornings when I overslept and Mama and Callie and Lena Rae got in the kitchen to get all the other children up and fed. My stomach grumbled loudly at the aroma of peanut butter cookies.

“I’ll be walking in two weeks,” Duncan promised. “John said the muscles were ready to wake up.”

“You’ll walk when you’re ready, but you’ll walk,” JoHanna answered her.

“It’s a shame John wouldn’t come home with us for supper,” Aunt Sadie answered.

“It’s a shame Floyd had to go back,” Duncan responded, a note of wistfulness in her voice.

I got up then, the pleasure of lingering sleep slapped from me by Sadie’s comment. She had invited John Doggett to eat with us. The man had worked his charm on her as surely as he had everyone else. Except me and Pecos.

My hair was a jumble, but the top of my head was too sore to allow a brushing, so I smoothed down the wild hairs as best I could and went into the kitchen.

“Mattie.” JoHanna came to me and took my hands. There was a smudge of cookie dough on her left cheek. “How are you?”

“Fine.” I hid my concerns. “The sleep did me a world of good. Something smells wonderful.”

“I was able to walk in the river.” Duncan claimed my attention as she sat at the table, a half-empty saucer of cookies in front of her. Pecos sat beneath the table, accepting the cookie crumbs she offered him out of her hand.

“How long have you been back?” I felt as if weeks had elapsed. “About an hour. Long enough to bake cookies, most of which Duncan has consumed. Or at least the part she hasn’t given that evil bird.” Aunt Sadie looked over her glasses at Duncan to let her know she wasn’t getting away with feeding Pecos under the table.

“I walked in the river.” Duncan demanded a response.

“You walked?”

“John said the water held me up, but that with practice and
hard work,
I’d be able to walk on the land. He said I was amphibious!” She slapped the table lightly with her palms and laughed. “Like a frog. They’re better in the water than on land.”

The shock must have shown clearly on my face, because JoHanna put her arm around my shoulders and took me onto the small screen porch off the kitchen where Sadie had hung my plants to dry.

“Mattie—”

“What if she doesn’t walk!” I turned on her. “You’re letting that man set her up for bitter disappointment.” “Mattie—”

“How can you do this, JoHanna? You don’t know a thing about him.”

“Mattie—”

“What would Will say?”

“Mattie!” Her voice cracked out, pulling me up short. I looked at her and found that I was panting.

“Duncan’s legs are much better. She walked yesterday; today she made even more progress. John isn’t leading her on. She’ll walk in two weeks. I’m positive.”

“Just because he says it, how can you be so sure?” My voice was soft.

“She’ll walk in two weeks.” She reached up and brushed a tendril of my unruly hair from the corner of my mouth. “I’m the one who said two weeks. John only repeated it. He didn’t make it up.”

That took the wind out of my sails, and I shifted my weight so that I was standing a little further away from her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“You don’t care for John, and you don’t want to see Duncan hurt. It’s okay, Mattie.”

“Floyd has gone home?”

“He caught a ride with Nell.”

“I think maybe I should have gone with them.” I hated myself as I said those words, but somehow John Doggett had squeezed me out of Fitler. His presence had changed everything. The only place for me to go was back to Jexville. The longer I put it off, the harder it was going to be to go back.

“You don’t ever have to go there.”

She could say that, but it wasn’t true. I had to go back. Either to finish what I’d started or to continue on. “If I were you, I wouldn’t have to go back. But I’m not you.” I couldn’t look at her. “I don’t feel I have another choice.”

She put her arms around me and hugged me, holding me against her body warmed by the oven. “Oh, Mattie. You have to do what
you
feel is right. If it’s going back, then that’s what you have to do. Just promise me if that man tries to harm you in any way, you’ll call me.”

I wanted to say that I’d call Will, but I crushed the impulse I had to hurt her, not understanding it even as I knew it was wrong. “If he acts mean, I’ll leave again,” I promised her.

“Jeb is coming up here tomorrow to help search for Red Lassiter’s body. I’m sure he won’t mind giving you a ride back.” JoHanna sighed. “I wish we could all stay up here forever.”

“Why don’t you move up here?” Will was gone a lot, but he could drive from Fitler as well as Jexville. “Or y’all could move to Natchez or New Orleans or New York, for that matter.” A lot of Will’s business was big city clients. It actually made more sense for them to live in a city, and JoHanna would be far happier in a place with theater and dance and libraries and other free-thinking women.

She watched my thought processes in my eyes, her smile widening. “I live in Jexville, contrary to Aunt Sadie’s caustic statements, because of the schools, for Duncan. In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t any other children in Fitler. And Will’s brother has a place over on Kali Oka, there’s that family tie.” She shook her head. “And it’s part Dunagan stubbornness. My parents came here to make their fortunes. I guess I don’t want to leave this area because some narrow, righteous people make me uncomfortable. And last but not least, there’s Aunt Sadie. She’s getting on up there and I don’t want to leave her alone. Now she doesn’t want me underfoot all the time, but I need to be close enough if she needs me.”

What could I say to all of that? At least she didn’t stay out of fear. “Whatever you decide today, there’s always tomorrow. If you go back to Jexville, you can leave in a week, or a month. Or a year.”

I felt the pressure of my unexpected tears, hot and scalding behind my eyes. “Unless I have a child.” I swallowed. “How can it be that the one thing I could love with all of my heart is the thing that might destroy me?”