Touched (23 page)

JoHanna caught my shoulders in her hands and held me tight. “A child is always that for a woman, Mattie. Always the risk of potential destruction, if you love them enough. When you’re older and stronger, you might not feel it’s such a risk. Or you might not care.”

Looking at her kind face, I knew then that I would never have a child. It was as sure as knowing that I would grow no taller or that my hair would never be blond like Callie’s. It was a physical fact. One that no amount of grieving or remorse could change. My hands crossed instinctively over my stomach. JoHanna saw the reflex, but she didn’t understand what it meant to me.

“Are you hurting?”

“No.” I dropped my hands to my sides. “No, I’m fine.” But I knew that something inside me had died. Perhaps not an organ or tissue, but something necessary to bring forth new life. Whether the doctor’s instruments or my own fear had killed it didn’t matter.

“Mattie, are you sure?” JoHanna’s gaze scanned my face, then dropped down to my body. “You’re not bleeding?”

“No, really.” I lifted my shoulders. “I’ll just have to make certain that I don’t get pregnant again.”

“And how will you do that?”

There was a hint of teasing in her question. If I went home, I was not foolish enough to think that Elikah would not expect me to fulfill my duties as a wife. I focused on a worn place in the floor, feeling the heat of my sunburn more intensely than before.

“There are ways to prevent pregnancy.” JoHanna had taken pity on me and stopped teasing.

“Elikah wouldn’t wear one of those.” He’d expounded too many times on the pleasures of the “natural” feel of a woman. Besides, he wouldn’t do anything that marred the picture of perfect manhood he felt he presented.

“There’s something else. You put it up inside you and take it out when you’re finished.”

“Inside me?” I looked at her at last, half repulsed by what she said and half expecting to see the glint of the devil in her blue eyes. But she wasn’t teasing.

“Contrary to popular belief, Mattie, your fingers won’t fall off and you won’t grow horns if you touch yourself.”

I couldn’t imagine. “What is it?”

“It’s like a sponge. It stops the sperm from getting up inside you. A blockade, if you will.”

Now she was grinning again, and the image she’d created did have some amusement value.

“How do you get it out once you’ve put it in?”

“You take it out yourself. It’ll take some practice, but you can learn to do it. And the best thing is that Elikah won’t even know what you’re doing.”

“It’ll work?”

JoHanna wiped the cookie dough from her face. “Nothing is perfect, but it works pretty well.”

I was still having trouble imagining that I could do this, but when I thought of the doctor in Mobile and what I had done there, I knew I could manage a bit of sponge.

“Where can I get this?”

“Doc Westfall.”

My head snapped up. “I can’t ask him for this. It would humiliate Elikah. No one can know!” The safety she’d offered me was suddenly snatched away, and panic flooded me.

“Doc won’t tell Elikah. Besides, he suspects you’ve had a miscarriage. He’ll think you want time to heal before you try again. You can even tell him that.”

I hardly dared to believe her. “He won’t talk to Elikah about this? Those men all talk.”

JoHanna’s smile reassured me. “Doc won’t talk. Especially not to Elikah.”

I nodded. “I can do this.” I took a deep breath. “I can.”

“You can.” She walked over to the line where Aunt Sadie had hung my plants to dry. “Comfrey,” she said. “I’m sure Sadie was pleased to get this.”

There was no sign of the strange flower I’d found. I suspected she’d thrown it away but didn’t want to hurt my feelings. For all her gruffness, Sadie had a tender heart.

“Mama!” Duncan’s happy cry pulled JoHanna back toward the kitchen. “Pecos pecked Aunt Sadie on the butt!” She laughed, and there was the sound of Sadie’s angry tirade at the bird.

“I’ll get you, you filthy creature!”

“Mama!” Duncan’s voice held alarm.

We ran into the kitchen to find Sadie chasing the bird around and around the kitchen table with a broom.

“Save Pecos!” Duncan was laughing, but there was worry on her face.

“You’d better get out of my house, you claw-footed Satan!” Sadie gave a mighty swing that toppled a chair over.

“Sadie!” JoHanna jumped into the brawl, going for her aunt rather than the chicken.

“Run, Pecos! Run!” Duncan pounded the table and shouted encouragement at the rooster.

Pecos made a dead run for me, and since he’d sided with me against John Doggett, I ran to the back door and held it open. Pecos made a clean getaway, flapping into the backyard, where he stopped, cocked his head at Aunt Sadie, who was panting in the doorway, broom held at the ready.

“I’m going to cook that bird,” Sadie vowed. “With tender dumplings.”

Pecos lifted his wings and shook them at her, lowering his head and giving a mean chicken squawk.

“You devil!” Sadie shook the broom at him. “Your days are numbered.”

JoHanna was trying not to laugh, and even I couldn’t help grinning.

“More like Pecos is going to give you a stroke,” JoHanna said, putting a gentle hand on the broom handle. “Come on back in the kitchen and I’ll pour us all a little of that scuppernong wine you keep hidden under the sink.”

Sadie swiveled on JoHanna. “He’s pushed me too hard, JoHanna. I bent over the oven to get the cookies out, and that brown bastard pecked me.”

JoHanna’s laughter spilled out. “Tough as your old butt is, I doubt he did any damage. Now let’s go have a drink.”

Twenty-two

J
OHANNA poured me a cup of coffee and gave me a promise that it would help the headache that pounded behind my eyes. I had discovered, belatedly, that Aunt Sadie’s scuppernong wine carried a healthy afterkick. We had all three gotten a little tipsy, laughing and cranking up the gramophone in the living room. Aunt Sadie had taught me to waltz, while JoHanna gave me instruction in the livelier steps of the Charleston. Duncan, happy in the belief that she would soon be dancing herself, shouted instructions and encouragement from the sidelines. Exhausted from the pleasure of it all, I had tumbled into bed, tingling with silliness and joy, unaware that misery hovered over my pillow and waited for the dawn.

“It’s only a hangover,” JoHanna said. “It’ll pass.”

I glared at her, wondering how she could not be suffering. She’d had as much to drink as I had. Maybe more.

“Practice,” she answered, reading the look on my face. “I’m also twenty pounds heavier than you. Once you get some meat on your bones, you’ll be able to drink more and suffer less.” She chuckled.

Aunt Sadie came into the room perkier than I’d ever seen her. She was wearing a beautiful lavender dress that shimmered in the soft white morning light. Behind her glasses her eyes had been touched with something to darken the lashes, and there was a tint of subtle pink on her lips. Instead of laying her low, the wine seemed to have given her new life, new blood.

“Where’s Duncan?” she asked.

“Asleep.” JoHanna smiled. “She wore herself out in the river, and then watching us dance last night. She’ll sleep another hour or two.”

Sadie nodded, bringing her cup of coffee to the table with us. “That’s a good thing. They’ll be dragging the river today for Red’s body. When I went to check the mail yesterday, Karl said they were bringing men over from Jexville and Leakesville. It would be just as well if Duncan didn’t see that.”

“I agree, but …” JoHanna’s eyes were troubled. “We’re going to have to make an appearance at the river, though. To stop the gossip. If we hole up here in the house, it’s only going to make it worse when we do go out.”

Aunt Sadie drummed her fingers on the table. “Wouldn’t that be better done some place other than the river, especially when they’re dragging for a body? No telling what they might pull up, or how it’s going to look.”

“The river’s the place to take a stand. We won’t stay long enough for Duncan to see anything. We just have to put in an appearance and let folks know we’re not hiding. If they’ve got something to say, I want them to know I’m not afraid to face them. And Duncan’s not afraid either. We’ll get down there early, just as they’re getting started, and then come right on home.” JoHanna looked down into her coffee cup as she finished.

She wasn’t afraid. Not for herself. But she was afraid for Duncan, and she couldn’t hide it from me. I could only hope she was a good enough actress to hide it from the men she was going to confront. If they sensed any weakness in her … I could imagine the pleasure Elikah would take in recounting even the smallest sign of JoHanna’s fear. Elikah was not alone in his desire to see her brought low—no matter what the occasion.

“Jeb will be down there.” Sadie got up to put another stick of wood in the stove. “French toast,” she said, letting us know the menu. “Duncan asked for it last night.”

My stomach roiled at the thought of food, but I was also hungry. The conflicting needs made my head pound worse.

“Starches will help soak up the alcohol. If you can eat it’ll make you feel better.” JoHanna still had a smile for my condition, as worried as she was about Duncan.

Sadie got up and began to crack eggs in a bowl. “I’m going to get started in here. I’ve got things to do this morning.”

Standing, JoHanna took the bowl from her aunt. “I’m quite capable of making French toast for Duncan, when she wakes up. And you should go tend to your business.” She arched an eyebrow. “Even if it is monkey business.”

Sadie slapped JoHanna lightly on the arm. “I’m too old to be teased.”

“You’re never too old, Sadie. Never.” She leaned over and kissed her aunt’s cheek, then shooed her out of the kitchen. “Stay out of here, now, or I’m going to have to sic Pecos on you.”

Sadie’s voice came back to us from her bedroom. “If that damn bird puts one gnarly little claw in my house, he’s going to find himself swimming in a pot of dumplings.”

Duncan’s voice joined the fray. “Aunt Sadie, maybe if you kiss Pecos he’ll turn into Prince Charming.” After the laughter, she continued. “Mama, I’m starving. Will you come get me?”

I signaled JoHanna that I could manage Duncan. I couldn’t carry her with the effortless strength of Floyd nor with the sureness of practice that JoHanna showed, but I could get her fifteen yards from the bed to the kitchen table, even if I had to stop and rest. I rose too suddenly and found that the slightest effort set my head to pounding like Abe Woodcock was in there standing at his anvil and pounding on a hot horseshoe. I swear, my ears were ringing with the blows, but I went to Duncan’s room.

“You look sick.” Duncan greeted me with a grin.

“Headache.”

“Hangover,” she said knowingly. “You overindulged.” She laughed at my condition.

“It isn’t exactly funny.”

“No, it isn’t.” Her voice had lost its teasing edge. “I had the strangest dream.” She held out her arms to put around my neck, clasping me close to her. I froze bending over the bed.

“What kind of dream?”

“ ‘It was awful.” Her voice was a rich contrast to her words. She sounded completely at ease, unafraid.

I lifted her and started toward the kitchen.

“I’ll tell you and Mama at the same time. It gets tiring having to repeat something two or three times.”

“Right.” I jiggled her. “You love the attention.”

I put her in her seat just as JoHanna placed two batter-soaked pieces of bread in the sizzling bacon grease on the stove.

“I dreamed there was a terrible storm. The wind blew so hard it tumbled houses down and flung trees everywhere.”

Duncan’s words seemed to stop time. There was only the bread frying in the grease, the occasional pop and sputter. JoHanna didn’t move, and I was caught up in Duncan’s words.

JoHanna recovered first, flipping the bread expertly. “At least no one drowned.”

“Oh, but they did. Dozens of people.” Duncan leaned forward. “It was a horrid tragedy. Bodies everywhere, some even up in trees.”

“Duncan!” JoHanna turned to her, her voice sharp.

Duncan’s face, so lively and eager, fell into hurt. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked against them.

JoHanna dropped the spatula into the pan and went to her daughter. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you sounded so … excited, about death.”

Still fighting tears, Duncan looked up at her mother. “It was exciting.” She swallowed. “Am I evil?”

JoHanna pulled her child to her breast and held her. I got up and rescued the toast from the pan, stacking it on a plate before battering two more pieces and putting them into the pan. Now the sizzle of the grease was comforting, blending as it did with the sound of Duncan’s soft tears.

“Oh, baby, you’re not evil.”

“You acted like I was.” Duncan’s voice was muffled by her hurt and JoHanna’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to. It’s just that I’m a little on edge about your dreams.”

“I don’t ask for them to come.”

“I know.” JoHanna rocked her gently. “I know.” She drew back, wiping Duncan’s eyes with the front of her blouse. “Now tell us the dream while we have breakfast. Thank goodness for Mattie or the toast would be burned.”

I put a plate before each of them and put more bread in the pan for me. I was hungry, yet I didn’t want to eat. But I wanted to get over the hangover more than I wanted to mollycoddle my stomach. And I wanted to hear Duncan’s dream.

“It wasn’t as clear as the one about Red Lassiter.” Duncan took the pitcher of syrup JoHanna handed her and poured it over her stack of toast. “It was more confused. Like parts of it had been jumbled up and I couldn’t tell what came first. And I didn’t know a single dead person.”

“That’s comforting.” JoHanna’s voice was crisp, but her hand shook as she took the syrup. “Then perhaps it wasn’t Jexville or Fitler where the dream took place.”

A wad of toast in her jaw, Duncan stopped chewing. “That may be it,” she said, licking a dribble of syrup from her lips. “I didn’t recognize anything. And it was sort of like … flying. I could see things but they moved by so fast I couldn’t really remember them. If I ever knew where they were to begin with.”

“Things?” JoHanna waited, her plate untouched.

“Trees blown over. Buildings knocked down.” Duncan put her fork down and hesitated. “The bodies in trees, it was as if they’d been picked up and hurled there. Like in the stories when old Zeus gets mad at the mortals and pitches a fit.” She lifted her chin in a gesture that was pure JoHanna. She met her mother’s worried gaze. “It was terrible to look at, but it didn’t make me feel bad.”

“Then,” JoHanna hesitated, “it wasn’t like the dreams about Mary Lincoln or Red? I mean the bodies were all on land, not drowning?”

“There were people on the boats out in the ocean. They were having a terrible time, like waves fifty feet high, crashing down on them. The wind was blowing so hard. But I don’t really know what happened to the boats or the people in the houses. I sort of moved on. But all around me there was the sound of wailing and crying. Like an entire town was carrying on.”

JoHanna pointed toward the glass of milk beside Duncan’s plate. “Drink it,” she said. There was relief in her voice, in her manner. “It sounds as if you dreamed of a big storm. Perhaps Floyd has told you about the hurricane that hit these parts twenty years ago. It did terrible damage, even as far inland as Fitler.”

Duncan’s eyebrows lifted. “Floyd did tell me.” She nodded, and I could see that she was as relieved as JoHanna no matter how blasé she’d been when recounting her dream. “I’ve dreamed before about some of his stories. Especially Miss Kretzler, down under the Courting Bridge, all drowned and lonely.” She shivered.

JoHanna’s balance was perfectly restored. She got up and refilled our coffee cups. “Drink your milk, Duncan. For your bones. I think your dream is just something Floyd told you and it came back to you while you were asleep.” She rubbed Duncan’s head. “And you said it didn’t frighten you.”

Duncan’s mouth was too full to answer. She shook her head, swallowed a big gulp, and took a breath. “No, it was like I was up above looking down.” She spoke carefully, choosing her words. “I couldn’t help anyone, even the ones crying and begging for help. I could only see what had happened.”

“Well, since it hasn’t upset you, I think we should forget it. You need a bath. Jeb Fairley is coming today, and we need to go down to the river with him.”

“They’re looking for Mr. Lassiter, aren’t they?”

My coffee cup clattered into the saucer. Duncan was too astute for her own good.

“Yes.” JoHanna pushed her half-eaten breakfast back. “And we’re going to take some food down there. I don’t want people to think we’re afraid or that we’re hiding.”

“Because I told him the dream and then he told other people. And then he drowned.”

JoHanna nodded as she got up. “That about sums it up.”

“Are people going to say that I’m evil?”

JoHanna had picked up her plate and was shifting toward the sink. She stopped and gave her daughter a long look. “They might. We don’t want to encourage such talk by acting afraid, but we aren’t going to let it bother us if they do say such things.”

Duncan didn’t say anything, but she pushed her plate away, her French toast only halfway eaten. “I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.”

“I’ll take care of these dishes while you give Duncan a bath,” I said, sliding between JoHanna and the sink before she could take her place there.

“Jeb should be here in an hour or so. He’ll want a cup of coffee, and Sadie got up this morning and baked a pound cake.” JoHanna’s face softened into a smile. “Now let’s get cleaned up and we’ll take ourselves down to the river and see what they’re saying for ourselves.”

Duncan rode in the wagon, Pecos perched beside her with all the pride of a vain rooster. Aunt Sadie had disappeared out the back door half an hour before we were ready to leave. She’d been in a big hurry and was wearing a straw hat with wild lupine and asters around the crown. It was too modest to be one of JoHanna’s creations.