All That Lives (14 page)

“Good Reverend, Preacher Justice,” Mother said, her voice composed but strained, “if I may be so bold to ask, pray, tell us
what ways and means you plan to employ to rid us of our suffering?”

“The Lord may mean your suffering to be lived and not relieved.” Calvin Justice softened his opinion with a kind tone and
appeared to contemplate his words while stroking his dark beard. The Reverend looked to him and scratched at his own sparse
stubble.

“I believe
you mean to say
this suffering must be
understood
for it to be relieved.” The Reverend spoke nervously, looking to my father, who sat silent in the corner. Calvin Justice
was about to say something else but Mother interrupted.

“Let us focus our humble powers of intelligence on that one purpose. Let us work together to solve this mystery. I request
you read of Paul at Corinth.”

“Of course! The perfect text!” The Reverend Johnston pulled his Bible close and nodded to my Mother with respect, impressed
by her gracious manner. “Please, you begin,” he looked to Calvin Justice.

“God that made the world and all things therein …” Calvin Justice raised his hands to the ceiling while the rest of us bowed
our heads. This was a popular section of Scripture and when I recognized it, tears, absent all the evening, arrived in my
eyes. “Neither be He worshipped with men’s hands, as though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life and breath and
all things …” I listened and cried silently until Mother’s voice joined the Reverend’s and Preacher Justice’s, reciting the
last line, “… For in Him we live, and move, and have our Being. Amen.” I felt a momentary warmth shoot through me, as if a
genuine healing was occurring in my soul, brought on by the words of the Lord. Yet, even as I encouraged the good feeling
of filling with Spirit, I tried to grasp it too deeply, and in that moment the feeling slipped away.

The next day was my thirteenth birthday and again I pleaded with Mother to allow me a day at school. Against her better judgment,
she relented but made me promise to be most cautious. Jesse and Martha departed our home as my brothers and I left for the
schoolhouse. I hugged Martha tight and told her I hoped they would return soon to stay with us again. The weather was gray,
for a spring rain had fallen at dawn and a wet green mist hung about the path. Drewry, Richard, Joel and I breathed deeply
of it, relieved to be walking away from our house.

“Sister, how will you tell it at school?” Richard walked beside me, his leather satchel bouncing on his back.

“I will speak the truth of the matter,” I said, shrugging my shoulders, rebalancing my bag.

“What is the truth of the matter?” Drewry kicked a stone and Joel ran ahead, chasing it.

“What do you believe?” I wished to hear his thoughts, for he was frowning, his expression limp as the bent grass.

“I know not, but likely the truth will be discovered.”

We reached the hazel thicket and were forced into a single line. At once, from every side, a thick barrage of thin twigs,
wet with the rain, fell down on us. I held my satchel before my face and ran, tripping over the hem of my new yellow dress.
It caught on a branch and tore about the bottom as I fell. Scrambling to get up again I ground my knees into the wet red mud
under the grass and dark stains spread across my skirt. The sticks pummeled my cheeks and hands.

“Hurry, sister, away!” Drewry grasped my arm and we ran together to the bridge Richard and Joel had already reached. Out of
the thicket the torture ceased and I stopped with Drewry beside me. We turned to look back at the path littered with sticks.

“Of this I shall say we were attacked by flying wood!” My heart was beating much too quickly, and I recalled Mother’s warnings
and concern for my safety. “How would you describe it, brother?” I was out of breath and more upset over the soiled state
of my dress than the scratches I had received from the twigs, but I tried to make light of it.

“Perhaps it was a birthday greeting for you, Betsy,” Drewry joked. He removed a twig from the top of my braid and we managed
two short laughs, but they flowed uneasily from our throats.

“Perhaps it was just the wind,” Joel called, running back to fetch us, anxious to get to school. “Carry on, carry on!” He
played as though he were the overseer in the field and Drewry and I both gave real laughs to see him so resilient. Across
the bridge we saw a recess was in progress in the schoolyard.

“Look, there they are!” Thenny spotted our little group and everyone immediately stopped their games and came running to greet
us. I looked for Josh Gardner, but he was not present.

“How are you, Betsy Bell?”

“I am well and pleased to see you all, and today I am thirteen.” I curtsied my greeting.

“What has happened at your home?” everyone asked at once.

“Tell us! Yes, please, tell!”

“There have been many rumors,” Becky said, looking at Vernon Batts as she spoke.

“And perhaps some rumors are the truth.” Vernon was quick with a retort to her unspoken accusation. “How often do we see Miss
Betsy Bell arriving late in the day in a mud-streaked dress? No doubt her demons now accost her in the woods!” Clearly Old
Kate had spoken of us in her home.

“I stumbled in the thicket!” I cried, feeling a sudden reluctance to tell the truth, regretting having shared that it was
my special day. “At our home, it is as the Reverend said on Sunday, better not to speak of it, but pray it would soon be gone,
so we might join our goodly peers in studies and games.” I saw Professor Powell about to ring the bell outside the door and
I waved to him, noticing he clanged the iron triangle with exuberance. All turned, mumbling, thinking later I would tell them
more, but I thought, later, I would not.

We entered the schoolhouse and took our seats on the benches and I withdrew my slate from my satchel. Professor Powell stood
behind his large oak desk waiting for our attention.

“Before our mathematics lesson I should like to announce the prize for best composition.” He shuffled some papers in his hands.
Thenny had the seat beside me and she sat up straighter, expecting it would be awarded to her.

“The best composition was penned by Miss Mary Batts for her essay, ‘From Sheep to Cloak.’” There was an audible gasp from
Thenny, and Mary Batts was the picture of surprise as she rose to receive the blue satin ribbon.

“Thank you, Mary, for your excellent work,” the professor smiled. “If any of you girls have questions regarding warps and
cards, just ask Miss Mary.”

“I expect she has to win with her family so pitiful,” Thenny whispered in my ear and I knew why she was so mean-spirited about
it, for I had seen Ephraim Polk give Mary an enthusiastic smile. Thenny had no great liking for Mary Batts because
she
liked Ephraim, who was known to visit the Batts house on the pretense of talking with Vernon, whom nobody really liked, but
clearly, he went to catch a glimpse of Mary. It was no wonder Thenny narrowed her eyes and fell into a sulk. I realized she
coveted honors more than I did, but I tried not to think any worse of her for it. I had much else on my mind.

Professor Powell began to read out numbers for the mathematics lesson and I exchanged a glance with Drewry, who sat to my
left and up a row. I knew he would not talk about our trials if I did not. I had not planned to be so restrained but once
I had begun that way, I could not see how to tell the truth of the matter. I began to feel quite sorry for myself, as it
was
my birthday and I had chosen to come to school and I was not enjoying it. I wished Josh Gardner was present. I could not
concentrate on the lesson and I was grateful Professor Powell did not address me with any questions for I was truly elsewhere
in my mind. I drew a vine down the side of my slate and decorated it with leaves when I was meant to be doing sums. At the
close of the day we were dismissed from our lessons and a small group gathered again around me and my brothers in the schoolyard.

“Will you come back, Miss Betsy, or be too tormented by your demons to suffer instruction?” Vernon Batts stood with his legs
wide apart and I thought perhaps I should tell him he ought to have his mother stitch him a new pair of trousers, for the
ones he wore were much too tight and short.

“What do you know about it, Vernon?” Drewry asked, challenging his insolence toward me.

“I’ve heard it said demons dance on the roof of your Betsy’s room.”

“Have you also heard of the man in the moon? No demons have been seen by anyone at our home so keep yourself quiet regarding
what you know not.” Drewry stepped forward and took my arm. He was taller and stronger than Vernon and if it came to blows,
I was certain Drew would be victorious. Though his mouth was large, Vernon was a coward at heart.

“So tell us, what is the matter of which the Reverend speaks?” he asked, persistent.

“Go on, tell, Betsy.” Thenny popped up beside me, encouraging me to answer these inquiries.

“We must not speak of it …” I shrugged my shoulders, implying I was obedient to a wish not my own.

“Recognize
this
is the truth.” Drewry took another menacing step toward Vernon. “Our father has commanded our silence, but on the day when
we may speak freely of our disturbance, you best hold your ears onto your head for whatever you imagine, it is much more than
that.” Drewry reminded me of Calvin Justice for a moment, so inflamed was his tongue.

“May that day be soon,” Vernon spoke this last to our backs, as we departed.

“Sister,” Joel tugged at my hand demanding I keep him amused as we crossed the bridge and prepared to enter the hazel thicket.
“Mother will set a special table for your special day. What treats are you predicting?”

“The first strawberries and Chloe’s sugar cream.” I could already taste them on my tongue. I took a deep breath of woody thicket
and I was not surprised when abruptly the sticks began to rain on us again, only much fewer in number, and this time they
did not strike us with much force, but landed mostly just ahead in the path.

“Stop, sister, we must investigate.” Drewry pulled at the hedge with his fingers, looking as if he wished he had brought his
gun to school.

“Drewry, it is obvious no person, animal or wind is the culprit here.” I wished to make haste to our supper and I strode ahead.
Richard plucked a stick from the ground and, removing his knife from his pocket, he notched the wood, making a game of the
harassment.

“Take this, demon!” He threw it back into the hedge growth and I thought it a sign of our real progress we were able to laugh,
a few paces farther on, when the same stick was returned to him, striking him lightly on his behind.

“So how was your day at school, dear children?” Mother poured tea from the china pot at our celebration, inquiring after us.

“Uneventful, apart from many new lessons.” Drewry and I exchanged a glance, having agreed we should not worry Mother with
the curiosities of our peers, or the sticks in the hedge.

“Sister, I have a birthday treat for you.” John Jr. stood up from his place at the table and left the room, returning shortly
with his wooden flute. He played a lively tune and I did feel grateful for his effort and tried to tap my feet. The notes
fluttered in my ears and I was overcome with emotion. Bitter disappointment regarding my day at school, combined with my birthday,
and my overall exhaustion, gave rise to an uncomfortable sorrow in my soul. I tried to listen to the lilting tune but nothing
seemed purely good to me. Even John Jr.’s sweet song was fleeting and momentary, while the tortures of the night loomed ahead,
certain and frightening. What good was it to be a growing young woman when torture and suffering was my future? Tears spilled
from the sides of my eyes.

“There, there, Miss Betsy.” Mother came to me and held my head against her breast so the rough linen of her smock tickled
my ear. “ ’Tis a day to give thanks to the Lord for your incarnation. You are growing up a lovely girl.”