All That Lives (55 page)

The pile of bones we had chosen not to approach set up rattling in the corner, and turning our heads, we saw them rise to
do a noisy dance. The clinking of their joints against the stone made a nasty rhythm, reminding me of the spoons the Spirit
beat in Father’s hands his last day at our table. The clatter echoed large out of the mouth of the cavern.

Know you, John Jr., your mother is an exceptional human, protected from each existing wickedness by her goodness and gentleness
toward every creature of whatever kind.

“Please stop, I beg you, hurt us not today!” I grew afraid, because the sound increased under the Spirit’s words until it
was truly deafening.

Lucy Bell appreciates the smallest tribute rendered her; extended by a madwoman, an evil demon or a most demanding man.

“Your only virtue, creature, apart from certain kindness to our mother, is you do not profess to be other than you are, and
declare yourself an outcast from Hell and a murderer!” John Jr. shouted at the Being.

Yea, I am outcast, but I have many virtues unknown to you. You will not understand all I say, but you will know I speak the
truth.

“You speak not the truth. You speak of murder and wrong-doings, of buried teeth and treasure and other stories proven false.”

The things I have told others which were not true are not important. They were told to prove to you the foolish ways of men.
Did I tell you true I had poisoned your father?

“Your falsity is all of you, not only what you say.”

No, no, John Jr. Bell. I am true as the drop beneath you from this cave into the river. I am true as the hard ground below.

“Please stop,” I begged the Spirit, fearing the next moment would see my brother hurled over the edge to certain death. The
bones collapsed back into a pile and the sound of their clamoring died in echoes off the walls.

Though I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, have I not
charity, I am nothing. I will leave you be, John Jr.

The Spirit held a firm but less menacing tone with my brother and I detected gentleness within it, as though it educated a
well-loved child.

A demon is not the only Being who laughs at the foolish things men do over and again, and encourages them to carry on in folly,
so as to laugh the more. The evil in men’s hearts surpasses all the evil made in Hell, for it is one and the same.

“Why did you murder Father? In all your talk never do you say a reason why.”

For the good of future generations.

“I see no reason there.”

Someday you will have a daughter and you will know my reason.

“You need not speak to me of future good. I will not believe you and I do not want to hear it.”

I could kill you too, John Jr., but I will not.

“Kill me, for I am doomed to misery alive, tormented by your presence!” John Jr. was as beside himself as ever I had witnessed.

I will not kill you for the good of future generations.

The Being continued its patronizing yet tolerant tone.

“Spirit, you speak nonsense and lies eternally! Kill me, or begone!”

Why wish for death?

A bone flew across the cave from the pile and rapped John Jr. lightly on the head not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough
to anger him further.

You will be dead much longer than alive! There are many things I could tell you, many things I should like to say to someone
with enough compassion and intelligence to understand.

“Tell me,” I begged, interrupting, engaged by the Spirit’s speech.

My tellings are beyond the grasp of the human mind. Your salvation will be faith in unknown power, therein lies Heaven on
earth.

“Your lies are tiresome, demon.”

When you understand me, John Jr., you will understand the truth. I live forever, and all living beings are part of me. One
who does good is never overcome by evil. I can not tell you all my powers for they are endless, but know, I am the life of
all that lives, the intelligence of the intelligent, and the strength of the powerful Beings. I am unending time and silence,
I am music and all secrets. Everything comes from me. I am your most dear friend.

“You talk well when you like,” John Jr. said, tossing the bone back across the cave. “But I shall never believe a word you
say.” He looked again at the beautiful vista of Father’s land. “Betsy, unpack the luncheon,” he commanded.

“I am not so famished now as I was before, dear brother.” I was in fact most anxious to depart, for a horrible cold dampness
had descended in the cavern, and I recognized it as the cold spot I had felt in the woods when I was only nine and unaware.

I am unspeakable and all truth that is spoken.

The Spirit rattled the pile of bones one last time, and left us alone.

Over the next few weeks I gradually became aware I had learned something very important from the Spirit’s talk in the cave,
and though I could hardly articulate it, the learning was growing inside of me. I walked through sweeping and dusting, washing
and polishing so slowly Mother began to complain my tasks were being accomplished at the rate of the moon. I was thinking
so hard about other things I could not concentrate on a cloth in my hand. I was thinking about unending time and silence,
and about the intelligence of the intelligent and the strength of the powerful Beings, and also I thought a great deal about
Josh. I was slow at my tasks, but quick to get away after the dinner hour, for Mother liked to lie down in the afternoons,
and that meant I was free to meet Josh in the woods.

We both tried to be there as often as possible, sometimes indulging in the exquisite passions we had shared on my birthday,
but most often playing like children together. We plucked new leaves off the trees that circled and hid us and we pretended
they were boats racing down the streams. His managed to reach the finish line of the little rapids before mine most consistently
and he took as his prize kisses up against the elms. The hours flew by, each day it grew late too soon, and though we met
as often as possible, I did not feel it was enough, for those hours simply enjoying our time together were brilliant with
laughter and silly fun.

On the Friday before the Lovers Promenade Josh and I walked all the way to the fishing pool under the cavern. We sat down
together on a large boulder near where the stream poured down in a waterfall into the pool. I looked up at the gaping mouth
of the cave and thought suddenly of the pile of bones in the corner. I realized I had learned as deep in my soul as the cave
was recessed into the rock above, that the Spirit and all its actions were way more than I could comprehend. I was about to
tell Josh what the Being had said to John Jr. to see what he would make of it when he spoke to me of a conversation he had
had with his father.

“He has been asking me, Betsy, since your father’s funeral if I feel a
particular
affection for you.” Josh squeezed my hand in his, and smiled, but his eyes held a most determined aspect. “I know it has
been your wish to keep our affections circumspect, but I was bound by my heart and my love of the good Lord to speak the truth
in a matter of such importance, so I told him as I have often told you, I mean to have Miss Betsy Bell to be my wife.”

“You told him that? Dear Josh!” I was surprised, for he knew I felt it best we live from one meeting to the next, as the Spirit
made my life so unpredictable. When I thought of marrying Josh, I heard immediately the Being’s warning in my mind.
Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

“My father has a property in the fertile land of Kentucky that already has a log cabin erected. He has promised it to me so
you and I can begin a farm and family there. When shall I speak to your mother and brother, Betsy? I am anxious to put our
love before the altar of the Lord our God and sanctify what we know to be true and right. How say you?” Josh was pleased and
excited by his plan. He brought his fingers to my face and I took hold of them, pressing them to my lips to make the sign
for silence, for the very mention of a future happy life with him clouded my enjoyment of the present moment. I knew it was
not to be. “Betsy, why do you not see the blessing offered in this change?” He held my face as though in prayer.

“Josh, why do you not see the happiness of this present moment? Why must you be looking to plan our future instead of enjoying
my company now?” I took his fingers from my cheeks allowing my irritation with the subject to be apparent, but then I placed
his hands in my lap hoping to remind him of all we had shared and must be grateful for.

“Very well, Betsy, I will not dwell on the subject.” Josh sighed and squeezed my thigh playfully before pulling his hands
away, grasping my shoulders. “But it is one we must return to, for the future will come, planned or not, and my intentions
are honorable with you, Betsy Bell, though I begin to wonder about yours, darling girl!” Josh teased me, but there was a frustration
in his voice I had not previously heard, and to hear him call me “darling girl” reminded me of Father, and caused me pain.
I went limp when he embraced me, for I felt again the heavy stone in the pit of my stomach. Was I more connected to a dead
man and a boulder than I was to my warm lover’s body? I looked up at the mouth of the dark cavern and I felt afraid.

Later that same day, we received a letter from Jesse announcing that Martha had successfully borne their first son without
trauma or tragedy.

“They have named him John, but plan to call him Jack, as we did your father.” After sharing the news, Mother folded the letter
and retired to her bedroom to be alone, leaving me to wonder why such a happy issue caused her to grow sad. I realized there
were those who might say the same of myself and Josh. Why did thoughts of a happy future with him seem overwhelming and impossible
to me? I suddenly understood Mother’s sadness was for all she had lost at Father’s passing, all the news and years they would
not share, and that was how I felt it was going to be for me as well. Only instead of years of memories I would be left with
only months. I went early to bed and fought self-pity until I fell asleep.

The next day was the Saturday of the Lovers Promenade and we were blessed with a bright, strong sun that gave us all a taste
of summer heat. I woke in the morning to find the curse of blood between my legs. Although not a lot was flowing, I felt slightly
unwell and thought instead of walking I ought to lie all day in bed. The tight waist and all the buttons in my special dress
seemed impossible. Even though I greatly desired Josh to see me in it, I was uncertain if I could manage to get it on. I went
downstairs intending to ask Mother for help.

“Betsy.” Mother was sitting at the dining table resting her chin on her hand, and before I could speak of my dress, she turned
to me. “Your father’s book of accounts is missing. I looked for it today to show John Jr. the tobacco records and discovered
it has disappeared from its place in Father’s desk. Drewry knows nothing of it. Do you?” She raised her eyes to mine. I thought
of the red silk ribbon, the wagging demon tongue. If Father’s book of accounts could speak, would it cry more than
forgive me
?