Authors: Nancy Frederick
“
I
’
ll do anything you want,
”
Dora said plaintively, letting her grimy hand crawl along the grizzly arm.
“
Six kids, no husband, no crop. Anything you want. We got nowhere else to go.
”
She leaned back and lifted her skirts a few inches, opening her legs quite wide, and she stared pointedly into the man
’
s ugly face.
He reached a hand toward her, but instead of accepting her offer, he toppled her chair and she fell to the floor, lying splayed on her back.
“
Not interested,
”
he said.
“
But I will make you a deal. Give you a stake, so you can get out of here.
”
Dora leapt to her feet, trembling, her voice shaking with disbelief.
“
Really?
”
she asked,
“
How much?
”
The man reached into his filthy jacket, pulled out a blood-stained pouch, and from it he tossed several gold coins onto the table. Dora reached for the money, and his gnarled hand grasped her arm, twisting it cruelly.
“
For that
‘
un,
”
he said, pointing to Addie.
Dora glanced toward her daughter, and back to the table where the coins lay. Her gaze narrowed, and in her eyes was more shrewdness than guilt.
“
She
’
s my best one
—
she
’
s worth double that. Or more. Cooks, cleans, don
’
t hardly say nothin
’
.
”
The man tossed a few more coins on the tableand this time allowed Dora to snatch them up.
“
What stuff she got?
”
he asked.
“
You din
’
t never said nothin
’
‘
bout her taking stuff,
”
said Dora petulantly, immediately realizing she
’
d sold out too cheaply.
“
Git yer clothes, gal,
”
said the man, tossing one more coin at Dora.
Addie felt the winds blow, time morphed and she lay terrified on a rough pallet in a dark shack, the man pressing against her. His hand pulled up her skirts, and he looked into her eyes.
“
You bleed yet?
”
he asked as Addie cringed with fear.
“
Down there,
”
he said,
“
You bleed yet?
”
Addie could not reply, but he saw the answer in her eyes and hoisted himself onto and inside her, saying only,
“
You give me a son.
”
Time morphed again and Addie struggled against the pain, the blood pouring out of her, the child being born into his father
’
s hand, herself washing out in the river of blood, her life floating away.
“
That man,
”
said Addie, standing back beside her guides,
“
There was something familiar about him.
”
“
Look into his eyes,
”
said Cerise.
“
No, I can
’
t quite tell. So familiar, though.
”
“
There are threads,
”
said Dancer,
“
Threads that tie you to each other again and again.
”
“
More like a noose,
”
said Addie shaking her head.
“
My mother, what a bitch. No wonder I ended up hating her.
”
She heard the cough before she saw the scene. It was like something out of an opera, the sort of cough that indicates an infection so serious that every movement causes pain. Now aged, Dora Penny sat in a tattered chair in a one-room apartment, her breath whistling in between the racking coughs. A cigarette burned at her side. A glass of scotch sat partially drunk next to the overfilled ashtray. Catalogs from all the best stores littered a coffee table, and Dora flipped though one, occasionally dog earring a page. On a far wall stood a rickety cabinet which held some of the cheap treasures Dora had collected. On top of the cabinet were two framed photos, one of Addie as a child and the other of Zeke, older than Addie remembered him.
As though she had some sort of bizarre ex-ray vision, Addie could see gray shadows here and there in her mother
’
s body, the vibration of the diseases she carried.
“
Cancer,
”
said Addie,
“
Emphysema, Cirrhosis.
”
“
Scene look familiar?
”
asked Dancer.
“
Isn
’
t this happening right now?
”
asked Addie.
“
Yes, but she will soon be here,
”
said Cerise.
“
I
’
m asking doesn
’
t this scene look familiar to you,
”
insisted Dancer.
“
How so?
”
asked Addie.
“
I haven
’
t seen this woman since I was a child.
”
Dancer held out her hand and in her palm replayed the scene in which Addie had been an old drunk, getting a handout from her resentful son.
“
Oh my God,
”
said Addie,
“
Yes I see what you mean. But that never actually happened in my life, well okay maybe because I died before it could. I see what you
’
re getting at
—
no wonder I had that fear
—
no wonder I felt it could happen to me. Some sort of recessive gene, some knowledge of the tackiness that was inside me. Like a shadowing of destiny.
”
Addie shook her head.
Dora, a cigarette in one hand, the scotch in the other, went to take a drink, but a wracking cough shook her body, spilling the liquor over the front of her already stained housecoat. Her body shook as the coughing hammered her again and again, but eventually she gasped a breath and sputtered out a curse. The empty glass dropped into her lap and she clutched the sodden housecoat, sucking the liquor into her mouth.
Addie cringed watching the scene, and turned away.
“
Disgusting,
”
she said.
“
You could send her some love,
”
said Cerise.
Addie looked sardonically at her guide.
“
Yeah, sure, I
’
ll do that. Better to smash her head in with a baseball bat and put her out of her misery once and for all. No, let her live
—
let her suffer.
”
“
It would be better if you could forgive her,
”
said Cerise kindly,
“
Even though she has let you down a number of times.
”
“
Better for whom?
”
asked Addie.
“
What you
’
re showing me here is that apparently not only did I get kicked in the head by my mother in this life, she did it to me in other lives too, and that no wonder I had so many problems with my own kids. You heard what Lissa said
—
my mother was bad, I was bad, she would have been bad. There
’
s something to that expectation, you know.
”
“
Unhappy choices,
”
said Cerise.
“
But forgiveness helps.
”
“
Yeah, well I don
’
t think so. Obviously I
’
ve never had a decent mother in this or any lifetime. I
’
ve been screwed over.
”
“
What about the woman in the river?
”
asked Cerise.
“
I don
’
t know that woman. And well, crap, Cerise, excuse me what with you being a high and mighty spirit and all, but crap and double crap. She hoisted me onto a river bank in the middle of the wilderness. I was what
—
two? Do you think I forged an axe, chopped down the forest, built a cabin, and what
—
survived to a happy, ripe old age? I was probably eaten by a bear. And more power to the bear!
”
“
You
’
re silly,
”
laughed Cerise.
“
As far as I can tell all of life is misery. This life. Past lives
—
I can
’
t even believe I
’
m saying past lives
—
being dead has turned me into a hippie. Well, whatever
—
it
’
s all miserable
—
no love, no happiness, no good stuff. Just blood and guts, death and gore, pain and hatred.
”
“
That
’
s why you
’
re here, isn
’
t it? To work on changing those patterns,
”
said Cerise.
“
Oh, yes, sure it is.
”
Addie scowled at her guide and continued,
“
I
’
m here because I
’
m your hostage. And if you showed me a life where I was a dog, and dogs are creatures that do nothing but give and seek love, well ok plus eat and crap, well if I were a dog, it would be in some foreign country and I
’
d end up braised pooch du jour!
”
The woman from the stream sat facing Addie, once again as her mother. They both were dressed in well-made garments from the Regency Era and they spoke with cultured British accents. The mother reached out and took Addie
’
s hand in hers.
“
The most important thing is to have a happy life. Of course I want you to have security. It is difficult to be the wife of the third son, but more difficult to be married to man you do not love, a man who will never become your friend.
”
Addie sat quietly, listening to this woman whom she loved and trusted.
“
I know I could marry Charlie, and we would be happy. But Lord Armstrong is so exciting, so dashing.
”
“
Yes, he is, but I do not trust him as I trust Charlie.
”
“
But Mother, you
’
ve known Charlie all his life. Of course you would know him better. He
’
s just an old shoe to me.
”
“
He will be a solid, trustworthy, devoted husband, of that I am certain.
”
Addie nodded.
The winds blew and Addie flew forward in time. Her heart both leapt and hardened each time she entered the majestic Armstrong estate. Her friend Jane had married Lord Armstrong and existed in a world in which there was nothing his wealth could not provide for her. Addie was secure in her life with Charlie, although at any given moment she was more apt to admit boredom than love.
Each year Jane grew weaker, her dependency on laudanum more pressing, her mental abilities less acute, her marriage to the dashing Lord Armstrong more vague.
It was easy enough for Addie to allow herself to be backed into one of the hundred rooms, to allow William Armstrong to press her against a wall, to yield to the pressures of his lips and ultimately to lie naked in his arms several times a week, her best friend in a stupor far down a very long hallway. What was difficult was the ride back to the small estate where she lived in far less grandeur. She schemed and raged. If only she
’
d followed her heart. If only Jane and Charlie would drown at sea. If only her mother hadn
’
t forced her….
By the time she
’
d been his lover for a year, her mother once again sat opposite her, a gentle hand on her arm.
“
It is not generally known, but it could become known, and my dear that is unthinkable.
”