All That Lives (33 page)

It is the young lady from Virginia, come to visit.

I was not surprised to hear the Spirit make this pronouncement. I had been waiting for this visit since the night before John
Jr.’s departure. The wheels of the fine coach rolled steadily toward us, and I saw the window open and the head of a young
woman pop out. I recognized her face, for I had seen her in the candle flame. The carriage turned off the road onto our path.

“Tie up the bundles and stash them at the end of the porch.” Mother stood and wiped her hands on her apron before reaching
back to untie it. “Will they be staying long?” she asked the Spirit as though she trusted it to know, but it did not respond
nicely.

Long enough for you to see what folly John Jr. has committed.

I dropped my pile of deadwood in the corner, wishing I could switch the Being’s backside with it. I returned to tie up Mother’s
bundle and saw she was already hurrying down the path toward the horse tie to greet the visitors. The young woman from Virginia
was delicately stepping from her carriage, assisted by the hand of an elderly gentleman with a long gray beard. My tight braid
reminded me, trust in God, but it also made my head ache. I sat down to collect myself in Mother’s rocker on the porch, for
I did not look forward to the coming evening. I ran my fingers over the scratches on my hands and thought of Josh’s worn leather
gloves, the heat in his eyes by the bridge.

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

“I will have in my thoughts what I please.” I spoke aloud, though I was alone, for I was uncertain if the Spirit had actually
spoken to me or if I simply heard its words strongly in my mind. The Spirit laughed, unquestionably speaking out loud, for
I could feel the vibrations that were its breath around my ear.

You will witness what it means to lose a love, Miss Betsy.

“Why must I witness my brother’s spurned opportunity?” I stamped my foot on the wooden porch, covering my ears with my hands.
“You need not cause me further pain, and I will have my own opportunity to make the match I please!”

Do you think so, Betsy Bell?

The Spirit teased me. “You are not my maker, and know not what will be!” I was angry with the Being, and insisted it no longer
dictate my actions, but abruptly I felt a hand grab my braid and yank my head back, as if its intent was to divide my scalp
from my soul. I cried out.

I am all things, and your future is known to me. You would do well to remember it.

The Spirit laughed and caused Mother’s bunch of slippery elm to bust its jute and gather into a massive round ball of sticks.
Before I could stand and grasp it, the giant sphere of twisted wood bounced down the porch steps, rolling with great accuracy
toward the horse tie at the foot of the hill. I jumped from my chair and flew after it, calling to Mother.

“Look out!”

The Spirit’s haphazard sculpture was near the size of me and moving with such speed whoever was at the end of its path would
certainly be hurt.

“Aiii, ’tis a whirligig!” The young woman from Virginia heard my cry and with great presence of mind she grabbed her escort
by the hand and flew so quickly up the lowered steps of her carriage, the plume of her fancy hat went fast as a real bird
through the sky. She shut the door with a bang and when the ball of sticks passed the horse tie, it miraculously lost its
invisible glue, dissolving into a pile of wood.

“Praise the Lord!” cried the old black man who drove the cart, “this must be the place.”

“If you have come to see the Bell Witch you will be greatly disappointed, for what haunts us is unseen, except by mischief
such as this.” Mother looked forlornly at the batch of slippery elm, so dusty and cracked I doubted it was usable.

“Mrs. Bell, I presume? This is my uncle, Sir Thomas Barton, and I am Miss Sallie Barton.” The young woman popped out of the
carriage again and descended the steps, withdrawing a gold case from the brocade purse swinging on her arm. I had never seen
anything like it and I watched mesmerized as she took from it a card, placing it urgently in Mother’s hand. There was an elegant
quality to the swish of her light blue skirt and I saw the fabric was fine.

“We hesitate to impose on your good graces, Mrs. Bell, but we are traveling to Nashville and at the inn in Springfield we
heard remarkable tales of stimulating activities about your farm, and we thought it worth the short journey to come calling.”
Sallie Barton looked sideways at her uncle for confirmation and he nodded, clearly accustomed to allowing his pretty niece
to speak for both of them. “Already we have experienced excitements beyond most days!” She smiled, so her face lit up with
charm, expressing her clear beauty. “Please, Mrs. Bell, if we are any inconvenience, we will turn our horses straight, but
if not, might we tarry just a short while?” Sallie Barton spoke so politely I was not surprised to hear Mother invite her
to supper and to stay the night, adding that her slaves were welcome to join ours in the cabins.

Before we could lead the young lady and her uncle up the hill and into the house, two new sets of travelers, strangers who
had met Miss Sallie Barton at the inn in Springfield, turned off the road and onto our path. Mother greeted them, and also
Calvin Justice, who rode in behind the company.

“I heard the Negroes singing, Mrs. Bell,” Calvin Justice said. “I thought perhaps someone had passed away without my knowledge.”

“Why Calvin Justice! There is no such calamity.” Mother stopped and put her hands on her hips, sounding annoyed the preacher
would jump to such a morbid conclusion. “Merely visitors from the state of Virginia. Meet Sir Thomas Barton and Miss Sallie
Barton.”

Calvin Justice dismounted and removed his hat and I wondered if he realized whom he met. I expect he did, but what could be
done about it? He was invited to share our supper of mince and pumpkin pies, along with the unknown travelers. I looked at
no one, trudging back up the hill. I concentrated on the tip of my nose and the base of my neck, still tingling from the tight
braid and the jerk of the Spirit.

“I feel an autumn chill,” Mother remarked, after our supper was finished. She led our guests into the parlor. The front window
was open, but no one moved to close it, for it let in the pleasant undulating and unfamiliar songs of Sallie Barton’s slaves,
rising up from the cabins, through the crisp fall evening air.

“Drewry, build us a small fire,” Father said as he crossed the room and stood at his desk, removing his silver flask from
within. I had watched him casting studious glances at Miss Sallie Barton throughout our meal as she spoke of her plantation
in Virginia and her travel on a ship to England and back. I wondered if he was thinking of John Jr.

“ ’Tis warmer than Virginia in this season.” Sallie had a heavy fancy shawl intricately woven in a cup and saucer pattern,
wrapped loosely on her shoulders.

“Sister, she’s so pretty …” Joel tugged my arm, whispering his observation.

And a perfect match for your absent brother.

The strangers gasped as the voice of the Spirit entered the room on the crack and spark of the flames Drewry built up in the
fireplace.

“Oh goodness, you must be the Bell Witch!” Sallie Barton smiled, as if pleased to be introduced.

I am many things. No longer will I lie to you. I am none other than a witch of Kate Batts’s making, here to torment Jack Bell
out of his life!

There was a general intake of breath amongst the gathering, for though none present, excepting Calvin Justice and my family,
knew Old Kate, all knew the name of the master of the house they visited, and they turned their eyes to Father, who had taken
a seat in the hickory rocker next to me. His chair commenced rocking so unnaturally fast, Father had to grip the arms to keep
from being flung from it. Before us his limbs grew stiff and he was seized with sudden contortions of his face. His flesh
twitched and danced as if invisible hands attempted to rearrange his features. It was horrible to see, and it was made worse
knowing there was nothing we could do to help him. The Being laughed, and magnified the crunch of the wooden rocker striking
the floorboards, apparently enjoying its torment of Father tremendously. One of the strangers jumped to his feet.

“Who is this Kate Batts? In what direction lies her home? Let us bring her to justice tonight for the torture of this good
man!” There were murmurs of enthusiasm for the suggestion rising from the strangers and I was abruptly unable to take a breath.
I felt my body grow cold, for as much as I disliked Old Kate, I was as certain as ever the evil menace was not of her making,
despite the Spirit’s claim.

Calvin Justice stood, and raised his hands high, so all would look to hear him above the noise of the rocking.

“Good people, if the Devil speaks to you, believe him not! For he will lead you down the path of no return.”

“Yea, but Preacher Justice, look, it is as the Witch proclaims!” The speaker gestured to Father, rocking madly in his chair,
bits of white frothlike spittle appearing in the corners of his mouth. He did not look well.

“Friend, indeed we all are witnesses to the sufferings of John Bell, and his family, on this occasion and on many others,
but to believe such as the pain they have endured could be magicked by a woman in our district whose only sin is in her strange
eccentricities, is to give credence where none belongs.” Calvin Justice spoke with passionate authority and managed to quiet
the impulse building to hunt down Kate and drag her from her bed. The grip on my lungs was loosened and I gasped for air.

I shall torment Jack Bell out of his life!

“I beg you, cease at once this torture.” Mother spoke in a quiet but desperate tone. “Let us join hands together and pray
the eyes of God will look down on us here and take pity on our troubled souls.”

“Repent, Jack Bell, if you have sinned, is my advice,” urged the stranger who had previously denigrated Kate, but Miss Sallie
Barton gave him such a look he should have put his tail between his legs, were he a hound. She took up Mother’s hand and with
an earnest glance at Father’s seizing form, began the prayer.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven …”

Your prayers mean nothing. I am a witch of Old Kate’s making, here to torment Jack Bell out of his life!

“Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done …” All our voices in unison continued the prayer, watching, hopeful
of a change in Father’s fearsome twitching, but the attack carried on until I felt again the heavy stone fall in my chest,
as though my heart had turned to lead and dropped down along my spine, exactly as I had felt with Josh. No one seemed to notice,
but I found I could not speak, my throat was closed, strangled with a weighty darkness. I knew, as I had known with certainty
the night the Being first spoke, the Spirit would accomplish the evil deed of which it spoke. The light of the flames in the
fire filled my eyes, and I had just a glimpse of Father released from his shaking, before I saw darkness and found I could
no longer breathe. I fainted onto the floor but remained oddly present, though I could not speak or open my eyes. I felt Miss
Sallie Barton kneel beside me, crying as though I were a sister to her.

“I beg you, whatever you may be, cease the torture of this pretty innocent!”

Who ever perished, being innocent?

“Do not quote Job to us, for gathered here, we are the faithful,” said Calvin Justice, kneeling beside Miss Sallie Barton.
I felt a twinge in my chest as though the Being stabbed a needle at my heart.

“O my God, I trust in thee: Let me not be ashamed, let not mine enemies triumph over me.” Calvin Justice spoke the Psalm of
David. The Spirit opened our great cedar door and slammed it, sending a cold blast of air into the parlor.

Miss Sallie Barton squealed in fear and jumped to her feet, and her uncle spoke to her firmly.

“Sallie, this excitement is more than I find necessary for any day.”

I stayed frozen on the floor, unable to move. The Being slammed the door a second time, shaking the house.

“Prayer is the only recourse,” Mother spoke into the silent room, realizing the Spirit had gone.

“Are you fit, Jack?

” “I am, but I do seek
some
recourse.” Father’s voice was strange and tight.

“Jack Bell, you appear to have triumphed in your struggle with the Being,” Calvin Justice exclaimed. “I am glad of it, but
I feel you ought to take some rest, and I will take my leave.”

“Mr. Justice, would you be so kind as to carry our Betsy up to bed before departing?” Mother spoke of me as though I were
merely resting on the floor, not choked and stiffened by unnatural forces.

“Of course,” Calvin Justice said, taking a step toward me, but Father interrupted his movement.

“No, Mr. Justice, I will carry my darling daughter myself.” Father’s tone was deeper than before and I felt his strong hands
cup my bottom and my back.

“Jack …” Mother was concerned he could not manage it. “Are you certain?”