All That Lives (56 page)

“No, I know nothing of it,” I lied, realizing I had never returned to it, though I had meant to the day before Father had
died. Where was it now? I felt suddenly ill.

I have taken it!

“For what purpose?” Mother let her hand drop to the table with consternation.

Your Jack, so fond of judge and jury, will be judged by what was written in the book.

I felt extremely uncomfortable. Did that mean his request for forgiveness would not be acknowledged? Why had I ripped away
that page and burned it? My impulsive actions seemed to have larger repercussions than ever I intended. I forgave him everything.
I hoped God knew I had. I hoped Father knew. I realized suddenly it was myself I had now to forgive. I thought of the Spirit’s
words to John Jr. in the cave.
Have I not charity, I am nothing.
I must have charity for myself.

“Well, if you might find some way to return it, all the running of the farm he documented there.”

And much else as well, but you will not see it again.

“If that is so, then I will cease to worry over it.” Mother sighed and turned to me. “What’s the matter, Betsy? You look pale.”

“ ’Tis my time to bleed again,” I told her, happy to change the subject, “and I wish to wear my finest dress to the picnic.”

“Oh, never mind, Joshua will not know. Your red petticoat will be completely hidden by the bell of your skirt.” Mother sighed
again. “I will help you prepare.”

It took almost two hours for me to dress and pin up my hair in the sophisticated style with the Spirit’s comb, but finally
Mother had finished with me and I was released out-of-doors. I still felt queasy, but I was growing excited about the stroll
by the riverbank before our community. I walked down our hill to the road to see if I could spot Josh’s carriage, for he was
due to arrive, but I saw nothing but bunnies, nibbling on the clover and buttercups, growing in ever larger patches on the
ruts of our road. My womb cramped and twisted and I turned back, walking to the horse tie where I could sit and wait. I wondered
if I should tell Josh it was my time to bleed, but I was not sure how to raise the subject. Zeke walked past me, a fishing
pole in his hand, heading toward the river.

“Where might you be going, Zeke?”

“Miz Lucy done asked me to fetch her up some fish for Easter, so I be on my way.”

“Mind the Spirit don’t mess with your fishes!” I teased him, for we had recently heard a rumor the Spirit was being blamed
by some for the disappearance of bait off their hooks when no catch was resulting.

“Your mama don’t like no phantom fishes for her supper, do she Miss ’Lizabeth?” Zeke winked at me and I noticed as he set
off smiling he had a fat pocket of tobacco to help him enjoy the day. When I turned back around, there was Josh’s carriage,
coming down the road.

When we arrived at the churchyard Josh jumped down and pulled the footstool out for me to disembark, grasping my arm with
such commanding certainty, I felt my stomach fill with excitement. “Let me help you, Betsy. Your hair and dress are more lovely
than the day,” he whispered in my ear and gently closed the door. We were about to pick our path when Thenny and Becky, walking
with James, Alex, Mary Batts and Ephraim, approached us.

“Have you heard, Betsy, about the heron on Old Kate’s pond and Mr. Ellison?” Thenny did not wait to greet me before speaking
her news. I looked to Mary but she looked away, ever stoic.

“Tell it again, Thenny!” Becky giggled, and cast down her eyes.

“Mr. Ellison, as he said he would do at the funeral, has made it his single purpose to shoot that heron off the lake, and
only today he has accomplished it.”

“What is so remarkable in the killing of a bird?” Alex Gooch raised his arm and closed one eye, posturing he pulled the trigger
of a gun. I wondered if he was pretending for my benefit, or did he really know so little?

“The bird was no ordinary bird, silly! It was the witch creature that drowned Amanda. Recall it now?”

“Thenny! We are to have a jolly day, cease to be morose,” I chastised her.

“I am not morose. No, I am well pleased, for that witch creature is dead!” Thenny pouted slightly and was silent for a moment
but could not prevent herself from going on. “Not only is it remarkable Mr. Ellison did kill it, but the heron
did not float
as naturally it should have done. Instead it disappeared where he felled it, and sank to the bottom of the lake.”

“Oh Thenny!” Becky giggled and James joined her with a nervous laugh.

“Next you’ll be thinking it was the witch heron eating the bait off the hooks this spring.” I meant this as a joke, but from
the silence that fell I understood it had been suggested as a real possibility before the group met up with us. A tense silence
settled over us and Josh attempted to change the mood.

“Well, friends, shall we walk along the river? This is a promenade …” He held out his arm to me.

“Yes, let’s,” I readily agreed. Mary Batts passed by my ear, whispering.

“Mother says fear of that heron will keep the boys from swimming in our pond come summer.”

“Is that a good thing?” I answered her cryptically and stepped aside. Looking round, I saw the riverbank was crowded with
members of our community strolling and picnicking and farther downstream there lounged a large group of Negroes, fishing and
eating corn cakes in the shade.

We let Thenny and Alex and Ephraim and Mary and James and Becky move in front of us, and I held back with Josh so we were
last on the path. When we had passed the clusters of people near the bridge and finished the superficial convivial greetings
exchanged there, I allowed Josh to hold my hand as we walked, enjoying the heat of his fingers and the warm sun on my head.
The others were far ahead around a bend in the river so we could not see them and I believe they sensed we wished to walk
alone.

“Come, Betsy,” Josh pulled me off the main path onto a smaller cow path leading down to the water. Violets dotted the carpet
of purslane and chickweed on the riverbank, and I noticed a patch of red sassafras towering over wild iris in bloom, a sight
most certainly a gift from God. Josh stopped me when we reached a thick stand of elms that hid us well.

“I think of nothing save you, Betsy Bell.” He pulled me to him, firmly. “You and our own log cabin. You must allow me to speak
to your mother and brother and we must set a date to be wed, as your previous troubles have passed and the time has come to
move forward.”

“The Spirit is still with me, Josh.”

“I wish to marry you, Spirit or no, dear girl.”

“If only it were so simple …”

“It is! Say you will marry me, Betsy, for you are my destiny and I am yours.” He put his hands on my shoulders and drew my
face to his and I relaxed, breathing deep his smell and the spicebush around us, scents of longing.

“Let us see,” I managed to mumble, allowing him to push me up solidly against the smooth trunk of the elm, allowing his hands
to roam around the bodice of my dress. I winced as he felt my breasts but hoped he would not know it was a tender time for
me.

“What shall I see that is new to me?” Josh teased me, and quickly kissed my neck. “Marry me soon, Betsy. Marry me and every
day we can share in the pleasures of each other and make together a new life.” He squeezed my shoulders and forced my eyes
to his, insisting I respond.

“Would that I could give my answer yes. Would that it could be so.” I tried to squirm away and look down at the river, but
he shook me just slightly, as though he feared I was not entirely in my body.

“It can be so, you foolish girl! You are only afraid. Remember in the winter when you were frightened riding up the bank?
Remember how you flew across the meadow when I slapped your horse? You trounced that fear and then we laughed together! Was
that not happiness? We must marry, Betsy, let us tell everyone today!”

“No! If you force me to an answer, Josh, I must declare it no! Not now! Ask not for me to do it!” I gripped his forearms with
my nails and felt tears rise in my throat. I shocked Josh with my despair.

“Betsy! Don’t cry, you will always be loved by me and sure I will protect you, so you need not be afraid.” He held me close,
calmly communicating the strength of his love for me, but the tenseness of his elbows revealed his desire to resolve the matter
was firm. “This very afternoon I will go to your mother and John Jr. with my request, and then you must say yes.”

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

The Spirit hissed through the breeze in the new leaves. The hard tree was against my back and Josh’s body pressed my front
and, despite its pleasures, the image came to me of an animal in a trap. I wondered, did the fox feel this way when it recognized
its next movement would be its last? Why must Josh force the issue? Why could we not carry on forever as we were?

It cannot be.

The Spirit spoke exactly to my darkest fears and I felt the heavy stone within my belly, as I always did when Josh proposed
his plans for our future.

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

“You would listen to a fiend from Hell, the tormentor of your soul, and not to this plea to stand beside me before God’s altar,
united in purpose?” Josh demanded.

“Josh, it is not my doing.”

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

“It will be your undoing, darling girl.” Josh moved his hands from my shoulders up my neck to hold my face. His fingers pressed
against the comb at the back of my head and I felt the silver prongs dig into my scalp. “I implore you, ignore the mean foreboding
of this demon.” The love in his face was certain and I did wish to have it, but I was too afraid.

“Josh, be thoughtful of the matter. How can I marry you? Our future would be so afflicted as to resemble my father’s last
days. Many times this Being has told the truth and I fear horrible affliction might come from our union. I cannot marry you,
for I cannot cause you torment. I love you, before the eyes of the Lord, you know I love you, as I have opened every part
of myself to you.” I ceased speaking, for a dark expression I did not like was settling on Josh’s features. He did not understand
me.

“You have indeed. You cannot mean to refuse me now.” He slid his thumbs under my chin and tilted my face up as though he would
kiss me, but did not.

“Dear Josh, it is because I love you, I
must say no,
we cannot marry.” I managed to speak the words despite the voice inside me crying, yes, say yes, say yes.

“Betsy Bell, if this is your true answer to my proposal I will go from here and never more will see you. I know not what else
there may be for me in life … I fear there may be nothing, for you have been my dearest hope, the adoration of my soul. Say
you will reconsider.” Josh allowed his fingers gently to caress my neck and I swallowed.

“I could not forgive myself if I were to cause a painful future to be yours,” I answered him, turning my eyes to the ground.

“Betsy, you know not the future nor its course.” Josh slipped his hands around my shoulders.

“I know the Spirit knows, and you have heard how it commands me.” I wished he could see it as I did.

“That creature of the damned knows nothing of my love for you.”

“Josh, you do not understand!” I shook my head with frustration and he let go of me, dropping his hands to his sides.

“I understand.” He nodded his head and I could see he was angry with me. “I understand you are finished with our love.”

“No …”

“Betsy, if you do not intend to marry me, I will leave you now and never see you more.”

“How can you? Do you not love me as you said?”

“I do. I love you and wish to sanctify our covenant together, but what
you
wish, I cannot do, for I feel it is unkind of you not to accept my worthy proposal.” He raised the back of his left hand
and touched my cheek and lips, with confidence and longing. I knew not how to answer him for he had turned abruptly sensitive
and calm. I had the momentary sense he knew something I did not, and I ought to trust him, but I could not be certain. I wondered
fiercely what it was he knew.

“What shall I tell the others?” I asked, stalling for time while I tried to think of how our disagreement could be resolved.

“You must tell them you are free of me if you will not allow our marriage.” He turned to walk away and I noticed the light
gray wool he wore was exactly the color of the elms that had sheltered us. My eyes filled with the red light of the waving
sassafras and tears and I moved to run after him.

“Wait!” I called, but a thick white fog descended on the bank, and I could see nothing but ribbons of mist. I looked for Josh,
but he had disappeared into the cloud. I tried to find the path we had taken, but I could not. Trees appeared where I thought
there were none, blocking my progress. I cried out loud, what have I done?

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

I caught my beautiful dress on a stinging nettle as I moved between the elms and I knew it would be ruined, but I did not
care. I stopped tripping through the fog and sank to my knees, giving my forehead to the ground. I listened to the river and
tears rolled from my eyes onto the purslane and violets. I could not have Josh Gardner for my love, and all our tender moments
shared were over. I thought of Father and his dying face and I cried harder for my losses; my father and my own true love.