When the Wind Blows (21 page)

“Rumors that aren’t any of your business,” she said pointedly. “Why don’t you two go out and play?”

Diana forced herself to ignore an impulse to send Christie back up to the nursery. It’s perfectly normal for Christie to play with Jeff, she told herself. There’s nothing wrong with it—nothing at all. Still, she felt uneasy as she watched the two children go out the back door, and found herself wishing that Joyce had left Jeff at home. Reluctantly she turned her attention back to what Joyce had been telling her. The townspeople—particularly Alice Sandler—were talking about her and her mother.

“I know what they’ll say,” she said quietly. She put her cup aside and faced Joyce. “First they’ll say I was irresponsible, then they’ll make it worse. Half the people already think Mother’s crazy, and some of them think I am, too.” She paused, then went on. “But I’m not crazy, and Mother’s not crazy. In a way, Alice is right, though—I should have fenced the quarry, but Mother thought it was too expensive. She can be difficult, and I guess I haven’t helped the situation by always knuckling under to her. But I’ve stopped that, Joyce.”

“Then you’d better start showing that to the town,” Joyce told her. “Let them see that there’s nothing wrong with you, and that Miss Edna isn’t—well, that she isn’t hiding you out here. That’s what they think, you know—that for some reason, Miss Edna keeps you here, hidden away.” She paused, wondering whether to tell Diana any of the things she’d heard over the years, then decided now was as a good a time as any to get it all out in the open. “So they start speculating on why, and the word
crazy
pops up. You’ve got to show them it isn’t true, Diana.” Her voice dropped. “If you don’t, and they start talking about Jay-Jay’s story—let alone Alice’s hysteria—I can tell you what will happen. They’ll start saying that your craziness—or Miss Edna’s—is rubbing off on Christie. So you have to show them that there’s nothing odd going on out here, and there never has been.”

“But what can I do?” Diana asked, her heart pounding at the thought that Christie might be taken from her.

Joyce shrugged helplessly, then had an idea. “Maybe if you could get the kids out here?” she suggested.

“The kids?” Diana’s heart pounded as she stared at Joyce. “After what happened to Kim, I can’t imagine that their parents would let them come anywhere near the ranch.”

“Some of them won’t,” Joyce agreed. “But you’ll notice I brought Jeff along today, and I’m sure there are some others. Not everyone in Amberton is irrational. It just seems like it.”

“I see,” Diana said. Then she chuckled hollowly. “So tell me what to do. How do I, at the age of fifty, learn how to become the mother of the year, with the children flocking around me?”

“You don’t do it all at once,” Joyce laughed. “But I do have an idea. The Fourth of July picnic’s coming up in a couple of weeks. I think you should go.”

“Christie and I?” Diana asked. She hadn’t been to a town picnic in years—not since she was a teen-ager and had gone to one with Bill Henry.

“And Miss Edna, too, if you can talk her into it.”

“But why? We don’t go to the picnics.…”

“That’s exactly the point,” Joyce said emphatically. “You have to show that you’re no different from anyone else. Let people see that there’s nothing strange going on out here.” She smiled suddenly. “Lord knows, you grew up here, but for the last thirty years people have hardly known you. And what they don’t know about, they gossip about.”

“I don’t know.…” Diana said, her mind whirling.

“Well, think about it,” Joyce urged her. She stood up and searched in her purse for her keys.

“Shall I call the kids?” Diana asked.

Joyce shrugged. “Why? Let them play. Send Jeff home if he gets out of hand.”

Together the two women left the house, and Joyce got into the truck.

“Think about it,” she repeated. “Okay?” Then, as Diana nodded mutely, she put the truck in gear and started back toward town.

As she watched the truck disappear in a cloud of dust, Diana tried to sort out her emotions. Part of her knew that Joyce was right, that for both her own and Christie’s sakes, she should break out of the tiny world that her mother had constructed for her and that she had lived in. But another part of her resisted.

That other part of her wanted to withdraw and take Christie with her.

   Jeff started for the barn, but Christie stopped him. “I don’t want to go in there,” she said.

“Well, where else are we going to get a rattrap?” Jeff asked.

Christie’s eyes reflected her puzzlement. “What do we need a rattrap for?” she asked.

“To get even with Miss Edna,” he replied, his voice exasperated. “You’ll see. But we need a trap.”

“Maybe in the shed,” Christie suggested.

They crossed the yard and went into the shed near the chicken coop. In the floor there was a trapdoor, and Jeff reached down and pulled it open.

“Wow,” he breathed. “What’s this?”

“It’s the root cellar,” Christie explained. “Aunt Diana says they used to keep vegetables down there. She says they never spoiled down there.”

“It’s like a fort,” Jeff said. “Come on, let’s go down into it.”

Christie looked into the dark cavern doubtfully. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s prob’ly full of spiders.”

“Or even snakes,” Jeff added, grinning mischievously.

“Stop that,” Christie said. “Besides, I thought you wanted to look for a trap.”

Sighing, Jeff kicked the trapdoor shut and began poking through the collection of farm tools that were scattered around the shed. “Here’s one!” he cried. The trap, ancient and rusty, looked to Christie as though it would break if they tried to set it, but when Jeff tested it, it held. He set it on the floor of the shed, then prodded it with the handle of a rake. It snapped closed, its jaw leaving a slight dent in the hardwood.

“Now we need something to cover it with,” Jeff said.

“But where are we going to put it?” Christie wanted to know.

“Wherever Miss Edna might find it,” Jeff replied. “Is there anyplace she goes all the time?”

“I don’t know.” Then she thought of something. “How about the chicken coop? She collects the eggs every morning. Anyway, almost every morning.”

“Neat,” Jeff said. “Come on.”

They left the shed and went into the chicken coop. A few minutes later they came back out again.

“That’ll get her.” Jeff’s voice was more confident than he was. He knew that if his parents found out what he’d done, he’d get a lot more than a lecture from his father. He faced Christie. “You won’t tell, will you?” he asked.

Christie shook her head.

“Cross your heart?”

Christie crossed her heart.

Jeff glanced uneasily at the house, wondering if anyone had seen them go into the coop. It didn’t seem like it.

“What shall we do now?” Christie asked.

Without thinking, Jeff suggested the first thing that came into his head. “We could go up to the mine.”

Remembering her father, Christie felt her happy mood slip away. “By ourselves?” she whispered. “I don’t think we should.” In truth, she didn’t want to go at all, but she didn’t want to admit it to Jeff.

“Then let’s ask my mom and Miss Diana,” Jeff suggested. “Maybe they’ll take us.”

Suddenly the idea was less frightening. With Aunt Diana and Mrs. Crowley along, it might not be so bad.

“Okay. Let’s ask.”

They found Diana sitting by herself at the kitchen table, still sipping coffee. Joyce was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s my mother?” Jeff asked.

Diana smiled at him. “She went home. She thought you’d want to stay and play with Christie.”

“Oh.” Jeff paused, then grinned at Diana. “Would you take us up to the mine?” he asked.

Feeling suddenly shaky, Diana set her cup down and looked at the children. “The mine?” she asked. “Why would you want to go up there?”

“Just to see it,” Jeff said. “My dad was going to take me up, but he never did. Please?”

Diana remembered what Joyce had told her, and
decided she was right—she had to stop giving in to all her irrational fears. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do it. We’ll hike up. Christie, I want you and Jeff to clean up in here, while I change my shoes. All right?” She didn’t mention that she also intended to call the vet and see to it that Hayburner’s carcass was gone by the time they got back. As the two children began carrying the coffee cups to the sink, Diana left the kitchen and went to the living room to make her phone call. Edna was waiting for her.

“I don’t like strangers in my house,” the old woman said without preamble. Diana glanced at her mother, picked up the phone, and began dialing.

“Well, you can relax, Mother,” she said. “Joyce is gone, and I’m taking the children for a hike.”

“Now?” Edna asked.

Diana immediately sensed Edna’s impending objection and moved to forestall it.

“Right now,” she said. “And I’m calling the vet to come and get Hayburner. I want to have his body gone before we get back. Will you take care of it for me?” Then, before her mother could reply, she was talking to the vet, explaining the situation. When she was done, she hung up the phone and hurried upstairs to put on her walking shoes.

Left alone in the living room, Edna was dumbstruck. What had gotten into Diana? She had never tried to tell her what to do before. Never!

It was that Crowley woman, Edna decided; that common miner’s wife. What could she have told Diana this morning?

Edna had tried to listen, but all she knew was that Mrs. Crowley had done most of the talking. And now, only a few minutes later, Diana had failed even to consult her before making plans.

Quivering with anger, Edna went to the kitchen. The children, working at the sink, froze when they saw the fury in her eyes. “Out!” she commanded. “Out
of my kitchen! Do you understand?” Terrified, Jeff and Christie scurried into the yard, and as they waited for Diana in the shade of the willow tree, Christie decided that Jeff had been right—Miss Edna
was
meaner than Mrs. Berkey, and she hoped the trap broke her fingers.

When Diana came downstairs a few minutes later, Edna glared at her. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Diana, sensing that she had somehow gained the upper hand, if only temporarily, savored the moment. “You don’t need to know, Mother,” she said. Then she walked out of the house. A
moment
later she listened to the crash of Edna’s cane knocking a stack of china to the floor. The sound of Edna’s anger made her smile.

   As they hiked up to the mine Diana told the two children about the brief gold strike her father had once made, then, when they were at the top of the tailing, led them into the old stamping house. She carefully explained to them how the machinery had worked, pointing out the chutes the ore had come down and the cam shaft that lifted the eight iron hammers, one by one, then dropped them onto the ore, breaking it up for the smelter.

“Of course,” she finished, as the children stared at the huge steam engine that had once driven the triphammers, “all this stuff was hardly used. The vein ran out, and it was back to coal.”

“Can we go inside the mine?” Jeff asked.

Diana led them out of the engine room, and they approached the mine entrance. In a large equipment locker she found flashlights and a lantern. She lit the lantern, then gave each of the children one of the flashlights.

“Now, you must both stay very close to me,” she told them. “Don’t forget, this is an old mine, and nothing much has been done to it.”

“Daddy put in an elevator,” Christie said.

Diana nodded. “The next job would have been shoring up the lower shaft.”

They moved through the dimness of the tunnel, and the children stared wide-eyed at the ancient planking that had been used to prevent the walls of the mine from collapsing. Everywhere water seemed to be seeping through, and the floor of the mine felt squishy.

“Can we go see the elevator?” Jeff asked.

Diana led them farther into the shaft, and as the darkness closed around her, she began to feel nervous. It had been years since she had been inside the mine, and the last time she had been as far as the vertical shaft that dropped into the depths of the mine was when she had been a little girl.

Then they were at the precipice. Jeff shined his light into the darkness below.

“Wow,” he breathed. “How deep is it?”

“I—I don’t know,” Diana said. She had barely heard him, and her breath was suddenly coming in short gasps. In the pit of her stomach the knot of fear she had put aside only an hour ago was gripping her again, and in her mind she was hearing a voice.

It was her mother’s voice, and it was reaching out of the past.

“He’s down there,”
she heard Edna telling her.
“He’s down there, and it’s your fault. Do you understand?”

Suddenly Diana was a little girl again.

Three years old? Four?

Too little to understand.

But still, she knew what her mother was talking about.

Her father was down there, and it was, somehow, her fault.

That was why her mother hit her.

Because of her father. Even though it didn’t make
any sense to her, she knew that she had done something terribly wrong, and her father had died, and her mother was very angry at her.

That was why her mother came into her room at night and beat her.

Because she had killed her father.

And as the memory of that day almost fifty years earlier burst into her consciousness, Diana began to shake.

“Get me out of here,” she whispered. “I have to get out of here!”

At her side, Christie looked up into Diana’s face. Even in the dim light of the lantern she could see that something was wrong. Diana’s eyes were wide, and she was sweating.

Suddenly Christie, too, was afraid.

And then, from behind her, she heard a voice.

“Madre de Dios.”

Christie spun around, and there, hurrying toward them, was Esperanza Rodriguez.

She took Diana by the hand and began leading her toward the mouth of the mine. The two children, frightened into silence, stayed close behind. When they were back out in the sunlight, Diana sank to the ground. Slowly her breathing returned to normal.