All That Lives (26 page)

“S’cuse me, folks, is this the outhouse?” A stranger had wandered down the hill, searching for a place to relieve himself,
and Father sighed.

“It is, good sir, and you may light the candle on the left, inside the door, with this one.” I realized Father planned to
take the Reverend’s advice and cut his finest figure of strength, authority and hospitality for the evening.

“Come, children, we must go.” He ushered Drew and me up the path through the garden and into the back of the house. I did
not want to participate in the parlor gathering and Father seemed to know my thoughts, or they were the same as his. He had
us take up stools around the flaming woodstove.

“Dish us up some dinner, Chloe, for it has been a trying day.”

“There’s only white beans and corn pone, masta Bell, the meat’s done gone.” Father frowned, but Chloe made three plates instantly,
and Father sent her to find Mother amongst the crowd to tell her we were home, and merely wished to eat our supper before
joining the gathering.

We ate slowly, trying to stretch out the chewing of bread and beans, for our hearts were loath to join the party. We heard
Reverend Johnston’s familiar voice rising above the strange ones, while the Spirit led the group in a test of their Bible
knowledge. There was a round of applause, then we heard a man cry out, “Having witnessed several hours of this magic I do
proclaim it greater than the rumors! Mark this occasion, fellow travelers, we witness here the haunting of the century!”

“Jack! Children! Please, join us!” Mother burst into the kitchen, her cheeks pink with fetching cups of tea for the many unexpected
guests. I could see she greatly desired our presence.

“The time has come,” Father said, rising and setting his plate on top of the sideboard. I noticed he had barely eaten a morsel.
Drewry took my hand and I kept my head down, pushing forward, but still it was difficult following Mother through the crowd
to the parlor.

“Look, there is the father! And the girl too!” A ruddy-faced and pudgy man I had never seen before stood by the door and made
this announcement, and the revelry died down. Whereas before I felt invisible, I now felt like a pussing pimple on otherwise
clear skin.

“Sister, sister.” Joel and Richard popped up from a place on the rug where they had been hidden by unknown boots and skirts.
“Did you find the treasure? What happened in the woods?”

The room was abruptly still of all but breathing and Joel snuggled his face against my skirts looking up, expectant of good
news.

“We found nothing …” I bent down and whispered in his ear.

Nothing but the good earth of the grave.

The Spirit’s tone abruptly altered from merry to malicious, and I felt a tremor of nervous anxiety electrifying the persons
assembled.

Old Sugar Mouth stood about prayerfully, and Drewry’s hands worked the dirt better than a spade. As if he were made for it.

The Spirit described everything exactly as it had occurred.

Dean staved the mattock in up to the eye, every pop, pop, pop! And sweat ran off the slave like water.

Having a raucous good time, it laughed with glee between observations, and I kept my head down not wishing to see what I knew
were the stricken faces of my family, humiliated before a crowd of strangers.

Old Jack dug and dug, better than the man employed in the trade of gravedigger in Clarksville. Old Jack the gravedigger! He
has the knack.

I could not bear to look at Father.

Miss Betsy planned her purchases, so certain was she. She would have candy! and a gun! a book! a velvet bonnet! and satin
hair ribbons too!

I covered Joel’s ears, whispering through my fingers, “The candy was to be for you.” I resented the caricatures it made of
us, presenting Father as inept, and myself as a spoiled and vain young girl, but someone in the room laughed, and then there
was another giggle. Though meanly done, the Spirit continued describing our party in such a humorous tone, so accurately depicting
those unflattering aspects of each of us that there were many in attendance who could not help but laugh. Perhaps they could
not hold it back, as it broke the highly uncomfortable tension created when our intimate thoughts were revealed. I know not
the reason, but all of a sudden, in the center of the crowd of strangers, I felt again the invisible hand, twisting my hair
around my throat, and I could not breathe amid the laughter. I was frightened and my heart threatened to burst inside my chest,
then all went black.

I was propelled onto the floor in a violent convulsing fit, and it appeared to all gathered I was smothering under some invisible
force. I panted as if for my very life, and one of the strangers in the crowd in possession of a pocketwatch and the mind
to use it declared my breath was lost for up to a full minute between great gasps. This struggle went on in my body despite
Father’s and Mother’s attempts to force air into my lungs. I could not breathe and I appeared to be unconscious but I was
aware of everything as it happened. Mother and Father pleaded with the Spirit to relent but the Being did not respond.

“Jack, we must send for Dr. Hopson.” Mother felt she could stand it no longer, and Father asked John Jr. to ride and fetch
him. “What if this time she does not recover?”

“Release this innocent!” proclaimed the Reverend. “You sinners who did laugh at the Being’s rendition of our misspent day,
beg for forgiveness from our Lord.” The Reverend commanded the strangers, even the Shakers, to follow his instructions, but
their well-meaning prayers were futile. The fit carried on without abating for two hours and the Spirit was silent throughout,
answering no entreaties, and giving rise to general speculation that its energy was thoroughly used keeping me captive.

“You demon of Hell, in the name of God, be cast from my home, be brought to your Judgment Day for the torture and torment
of this innocent child! Go from here and appear before the Lord, our God, who is all powerful and stands to conquer you!”
Father attempted to distract the Being, and save my life, by shouting above my writhing body, and his forceful nature seemed
to have some effect on what grasped me, for the Spirit released my lungs to breathe, and Father lifted me from the floor to
the chair, where Mother bent over me.

“Thank God, the fit has ceased!”

“Make way! Make way! What is the nature of this gathering?” Dr. Hopson pushed through the crowd in our parlor.

“Good people,” the Reverend Johnston spoke in his church voice. “You have abused John Bell’s hospitality enough this evening.
Let us all retire and allow the doctor his examination in more private circumstances.” The Reverend enlisted John Jr.’s and
Drewry’s help to clear the house.

My head was sore at the back where I had struck the floor-boards and I looked about with my eyes half open, not caring when
I saw departing looks of fear and sympathy cast in my direction. Why did they look at me that way?

“You fainted again, Elizabeth Bell?” The doctor adjusted his gold glasses on his nose, having removed his coat and hat.

“Good Dr. Hopson, we feared entirely for her life, so virulent was what seized her!” Mother said, stroking the hair loosened
from my braid off my forehead. I felt as if I might cry. Dr. Hopson sighed, and opening his leather bag, he withdrew new smelling
salts.

“I am much recovered now,” I breathed, straightening in the chair. I was uncomfortably embarrassed by the doctor’s deep assessing
stare.

“Indeed, you appear to the eye most sound and fit.” Dr. Hopson did not remove his gaze from my person.

“Doctor, you cannot imagine the horror we endured!” Mother took Dr. Hopson’s arm with pleading fingers.

“Verily, I cannot.” The doctor placed his hand briefly over hers, inquiring, “What home remedy has she imbibed?”

“None, sir! For her ailment is not constant and I have no remedy in my pantry for ailments such as these.”

“Lucy, let us have a cup of tea. Elizabeth, I will give you a dose of laudanum to be certain you sleep, for I believe you
are in great need of rest.” Dr. Hopson removed a brown glass bottle from his bag. Without pause he dropped a full spoon of
liquid down my throat.

“Children, to your beds.” Father spoke forcefully and we all readily obeyed. I was pleased I would not be subjected to further
prodding and poking of my body, as I felt sore and achy, from the long horse ride as much as the fit. The medicine dispensed
by Dr. Hopson left a sweet taste on my tongue.

My brothers helped me upstairs, but left me alone to rest. I did not undress immediately, but stood at the window in my room,
looking out. The laudanum had made me woozy and I steadied myself with my hand on the wall. I saw lanterns moving in between
the tents pitched at the foot of the orchard where the ground was flat, and I realized the strangers were many, camping on
our land. From downstairs I heard the sound of voices raised in argument, and I listened to Dr. Hopson exchanging words with
my father and the Reverend.

“It is my considered opinion that these meetings at your home, John Bell, are of an anti-religious nature and I am greatly
surprised, as they are attended by some of the finest, outstanding members of our community. Including yourself, Reverend,
our spiritual leader!”

“You know not what ails her, but we have seen it, and we know.” The Reverend Johnston spoke most passionately in his own defense.

“Tell me why the phenomenon you so readily ascribe to is not in residence when I am called? And how has it happened, Reverend
Johnston, that this religious festival grows outside John Bell’s door? Who are these Shakers from the north? Who are these
strangers descending on our district, and for what cause?”

I felt certain Father wished to know the answer to those queries much more than the good doctor and I wondered how he would
respond.

“I know without experience of the visitation present in this home, it is difficult to fathom—” The Reverend Johnston spoke
most patiently, but the doctor interrupted.

“I find it most difficult to fathom why you do not put a stop to these gatherings!”

“We are powerless before it.” Mother and Father spoke in unison and I could hear the pain of their situation so evident in
their tone, it must have been powerfully strong on their features.

“The fainting girl is merely an expression of the general hysteria dominating your assemblies.” The doctor was frustrated
and expressed his own opinion freely, with anger.

“Without a doubt, some supernatural phenomenon afflicts this family,” the Reverend insisted, begging Dr. Hopson to accept
his word, but I knew the Spirit must speak with the doctor in the house before he ever would believe in its existence. “If
you could use your medicinal arts to decipher some possible cure, as I have used my divinity schooling on the entity, perhaps—”

“My medical skills are of no use in the treatment of willful mass delusions.” Dr. Hopson did not allow the Reverend to complete
his thought. “I removed myself from my domicile at urgent request and rode near two hours in the dark on a road most dangerously
rutted these days, to find I am not needed, but merely a guest at your strange carnival.”

“Please, Dr. Hopson, let us drink some tea …” I heard Mother’s calm voice, raised with authority. “Let us argue no longer,
for vials of the wrath of God have poured over us already here.” Her sorrow effectively silenced the men. “Let us sit at the
table and take a moment to thank the Lord our Betsy has been delivered from her fit, and thank Him also for gracing us with
such ill trials that we might strive to righteous behavior.”

“Amen,” the Reverend declared.

“Let us encompass minds of wisdom, and discuss what remedies you might suggest, Dr. Hopson.” Mother’s voice grew faint and
I supposed she led him to the dining table for the tea.

Outside, the lanterns flickered in the tents, and my eyes were tired and heavy. My dress was done up down the back and I knew
Mother was not on her way to help me with it. I lay down, uncomfortably aware of the bone buttons lining my spine, yet how
far away seemed the days when sleeping in my clothes was undesirable. I closed my eyes, and fell asleep at once.

In the morning, bright sunlight poured from the window onto my bed, so I awoke hot and sticky with the feeling I had slept
over long. My first thought was to change my clothes and I threw off the quilts with as much violence as the Spirit itself.
I decided I would find Mother and request her help to bathe and dress anew, but as I passed the window, movement below in
the strangers’ encampment caught my eye and I stopped.

“Look! There’s the girl!” the same red-faced pudgy man from the night before pointed up at me from where he stood, hanging
a wet washing cloth on a tree branch in our orchard.

“That must be her room, where the thing began …” A bony woman I did not recognize came to his side and waved at me.

“Hello, Miss Betsy Bell! We are your neighbors from Kentucky! How do you fare?”

I did not answer, horrified to face a crowd of inquiring strangers first thing in the morning. I stepped back from the window,
slid along the wall to my doorway and out onto the landing in the hall where I ran into Mother.

“Betsy, I would like you and the boys to accompany me to Thorn’s store in the wagon, for we are in need of certain provisions
for this company.”

“Will they be staying long?”

“They have not made their intentions known to us, but as long as they are present we must be considerate and care for them.”

“I must change my dress, Mother.” I held out my skirt displaying the many wrinkles of the night.

“Bring your books. You may partake of a lesson at the schoolhouse with the esteemed Professor Powell, before we return.” Mother
smiled at me, knowing I would be pleased she had granted me this opportunity to visit with my friends. “I believe summer has
arrived,” she breathed deeply, “for it appears to be a hot day in the making.”