Manroot (17 page)

“
You can’t make me,” was Kyle’s answer.

With the distraction, Ryan had been holding his pole lightly.
In that moment of inattention, something snapped at his bait, jerking the pole right out of his hand. He watched as it slid into the water, bobbing up and down, and then disappeared quickly into the stream.

“
Now you did it! See what you made me do? I lost my pole,” Ryan screamed furiously, and without thinking he began scaling the sycamore trunk, crawling out toward his brother, all the while threatening, “Now you’re gonna get it.”

Kyle catcalled, “
Well, I guess you’re not scared like April.” He jeered now that he had his brother mad, and he tried teasing her.

Ryan c
rawled on the precarious tree toward his brother. Now that he had started for him, he couldn’t imagine just what he would do, out on that swaying tree.

“
I’m not scared neither,” April said, and to prove it she laid her pole down, secured it with a rock, and she, too, started climbing on the leaning trunk.

From the steep bank where the tree grew, it did not seem high up, but over the water it felt very high.
The bark was peeling in many places and the smooth white trunk made her feet slip as she crept along. She looked down and told herself she wasn’t scared of the river neither. But April, like the boys, had always been told to never, never wade or swim in the river. She had promised never to, and so had they…but they weren’t, they were only climbing above it. As the trunk tapered and slimmed down, she, crawling on all fours, didn’t look ahead. She couldn’t look behind, either. She could only look down, and that’s when she felt it – the first raindrop. Everything darkened as the sudden summer shower began. Now the tree shook violently as Ryan reached his brother, and with one hand they slapped out at one another. As her cousins fought, April felt her feet slipping. Her leather shoes would not stay on the wet trunk. She tried to hold on, but her hands, too, were wet. Then she lost her grip, and she was falling down, down about twenty feet, and she landed on her back, which knocked the wind out of her. Swiftly she sank into the water. Her eyes opened. She could only see the darkness of the water; she could not swim. Fear was in complete possession of her. When she bobbed up she clutched futilely at the air, only to sink again and have her mouth filled with the murky water. Above her head she heard their frightened voices. She sank again, deeper; she saw a floating log drift nearby. If she could only reach it. Her arms flailed frantically as she tried to swim toward it. Miraculously she reached the log, and with both hands grasped it. It rolled over, sending her head down again under the water. Then she saw them – a mass of wriggling snakes, water moccasins…lazily at first swimming away, then slowly turning around, reluctant to leave their log home. Fear was now a wild thing. For a second she thought someone had reached her, as she felt something clutching at her ankles, sucking, pulling violently. It was the undercurrent. Like a strong wet wind it tugged, taking her under, the fingers of the current urgent and cruel. Her head bumped on a log, and it took her down further to the bottom. Her lungs filled with water. She heard the long, slow peal of a church bell tolling in her head.
Bong…bong…bong…
slowly it rang with a measured beat. She was so tired now that her arms and legs, leaden, could not fight anymore against the current’s incredible strength. So her journey continued. It tugged, pulled, tossed her. She heard the continuous toll of the bells and was so tired now and at peace. She was a leaf, a bit of debris that created no resistance. Miraculously, the current rushed her to the bend, where the river tossed her out. She lay spent on the rocks, then rolled over and vomited. Her body was racked with choking as she turned her head, gasping at the precious air. In the distance she heard them calling her, but she couldn’t answer. She could not tell how long till they came upon her. She heard Kyle crying and making promises to God as he knelt by her while Ryan ran the mile back to get help.

Chapter 19

The near-tragedy sent
Elizabeth to bed with migraine and nerves. Her tiny frame was bolstered up in bed with mounds of pillows, three under her head and one at each side where her pale, freckled arms lay supported in an unnatural position. She insisted that this made her feel better.

The wooden ceiling fan
droned insistently, and a gentle breeze stirred in the room. Ringing the bell for Hannah, she alternated her requests between iced tea, coffee, lemonade, ice water. She worried that the Judge would blame her for the incident. Nothing would soothe her. Finally, she requested that Hannah send for Kack to bring a tonic.

Hannah knew that this was one of those times when the Missus either wouldn
’t or couldn’t cope. She was glad for Kack’s calm presence in the house. Kack brewed a mixture of herbs and ginseng in a tea, and before taking it up, Hannah laced the pot with a generous dash of brandy. Sleeping, Elizabeth would be less trouble. God knows she wasn’t any help awake.

Katherine inquired after April.
Hannah told her that the doctor said she was out of danger. He had prescribed sedatives, saying the child needed to rest. She mentioned that Jenny was still by her bedside and had been there all night, watchful and praying, thanking God that her daughter was safe.

Together, they went to the room.
Exhaustion was in every line on Jenny’s face. Between them, Katherine and Hannah convinced her that she, too, needed to rest. Katherine offered to continue the vigil. Finally, Jenny consented and went to her room, where she fell into a troubled sleep.

It was noon before April stirred.
Katherine reached over and tenderly smoothed back the tangled curls from her damp forehead. “You’re safe now,” she assured her.

Puzzled, but remembering the horror, April struggled weakly to sit up, looking around the room
as if seeing it for the first time.

“
Your mother sat here all night watching you. She was very tired, so she went to sleep now. If you want her, I can get her,” Katherine said.

Usually an obedient child, April remembered that they had disobeyed in a very
serious matter. “Is she mad – real mad?” she questioned.

“
She’s happy that you’re safe,” Kack told her.

The child began to cry
– soft, gulping sounds. “We didn’t mean it. We didn’t mean to be bad, honest we didn’t.”

“
I know. Hush now, it’s up to you to rest and feel better.”

“
What’s gonna happen?” the child persisted.

“
I said hush. Don’t you worry about that. Doctor said you should rest. The boys have been sent to the attic until the Judge comes home.”

Between sobs, April continued, “
It was Kyle – it was his fault, all his fault. The Judge should whip him good. But my mama never spanks me. I bet she will this time. I know it,” and she continued wailing.

Her voice firm now, Kack began, “
Doctor said –”

“
I’m tired of resting,” April sobbed. “Can I get up now?”

“
If you feel strong enough.”

April swung her feet over the side of the bed; her head swam with a short spasm of dizziness.
When it passed, she stood up. Her legs felt like rubber. Kack steadied her and helped her to the bathroom. She left her there, telling her to wash her face and brush her hair.

As Kack was laying out fresh clothing, she heard Hannah banging on the doors.
“Come quick – it’s Kyle! He’s in one of those spells.”

Both women bolted down the hall.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway, swaying unsteadily, wringing her hands. “Oh, why isn’t the Judge here? He’d know what to do.”

Hannah calmed her.
“I’ve already called the doctor. Kack’s here, she knows what to do. She’s seen it before.” She patted Elizabeth’s hand, leading her mistress back to her bedroom. She would only be in the way.

Ryan stood by the bed, a look of pure terror on his face as he fanned his brother, who lay there as if dead.
Kyle’s face was bloodless. His cheekbones stretched out prominently, shimmering, and there was a strange gray glow to his skin. His waxen lips, like some Halloween novelty, were drawn back over his teeth.

Katherine was struck by the contrast.
Ryan, his cheeks rosy, the nervous jitter as he juggled one foot up and down, arms strong and brown as he fanned his brother.

Taking the fan, she gently pushed him down into the bedside chair.
“He’ll be fine,” she promised the terrified boy.

Leaning over Kyle, she spoke softly.
“It’s okay, you’ll be fine.” She stroked his forehead, massaged his temples. “Close your eyes,” she said. They stared up, glazed and unfocused. With cool fingers, she lowered the lids on the unseeing eyes. “Breathe deeply,” she commanded. Then, pressing on his chest, as if resuscitating him, she continued the motion. “Calm, Kyle. You’re calm. You’re breathing deeply.” She leaned over and blew into his mouth, straightening up over him.

Her voice droned on, chant-like.
Within her own breast she kept the panic at bay.

Now massaging his hands, she continued, “
Calm…breathe deep and slow. You’re calm…you’re fine.” She stared at the boy, her eyes fierce, willing it to be so, when beneath her was but a fragile shell. Life, movement, childhood, had deserted him and left behind a form – a head, two arms, a wooden-like torso, and two legs rigid as stone. The only spark of life seemed to be in the waxen eyelids that fluttered like a dying butterfly. Behind her she heard the jiggle of Ryan’s foot agitatedly tapping the floor, and the harsh sound of Hannah’s nervous cough.

She
willed her own panic to still. She had seen it before, in Ryan, in Kyle; each of them had endured it.

This
‘draining’ of the twins was inexplicable. Dr. Martin could find no cause, no explanation, but Katherine knew – she knew. Still, she chanted and willed him to come back to be. The organdy curtains blew in a welcome breeze, a clock ticked like a steady heartbeat, and within the hour the metamorphosis took place. Kyle’s cheeks refilled with color, perspiration beaded on his forehead, heat replaced the coolness, the limbs fell into relaxation. Whatever had gripped him had fled.

He opened his eyes and looked around.
“I’m sick of being in bed. Can I get up now?” he asked.

With a surge of relief, she nodded her consent.
She felt weak, spent. Once more it hadn’t happened, and Katherine was grateful for Hannah, who took charge again.

“
You stay right in this room, young man. Dr. Martin’s on his way.” As if to prove her point, the doorbell rang at that very moment.

“
Rats – I’m not sick! I hate that old geezer, poking sticks down my throat and junk. Hannah, do I have to?

“
Yes, you do.”

“
Him, too.” Kyle gloated and pointed to Ryan. “If he’s here to look at me, he’s gonna check you, too.”

“
I’ll let him in,” Katherine offered. As she passed Elizabeth’s room, she heard her muttering.

“
Nasty boys – always in trouble. Probably play-acting just to scare me. Wait till the Judge gets home, then they’ll see.” She brushed her hair and put on some lipstick so she’d be presentable for the doctor.

Katherine paused on the
porch to get her breath. The fear, the rush down the steps to let the doctor in, had her heart racing. She leaned against the banister, looking out onto her beloved woods. It was a beautiful summer day. The sound of songbirds filled the air, sunlight shone brightly. It seemed impossible that death had stalked the children for the past two days.

Her eyes scanned the bushes, the trees, as if half-expecting to see someone standing there
– the Grim Reaper.

April and Bradley, who sat in the porch swing unobserv
ed, watched her. The fierce expression on her face postponed the favor Bradley wanted to ask.

“
I’m afraid – you ask her,” he whispered to April.

“
It’s your stupid sick bird. You ask her.”

They watched her straighten up, take a deep breath and go down the s
teps toward the path to her cabin.

The soft peeping from the shoebox gave him courage.
Bradley jumped up now after shouting, “Miss Katherine – Miss Katherine! Please…”

They went to the cabin with her.
When she saw the tiny, almost bald robin in the box, her eyes lit up and she made a sound, a soft clucking sound, as she talked to the bird.

Fascinated, they watched as she mixed a potion, and patiently with a toothpick, urged the tiny bird to eat.
After trial and error, the infant stretched his neck and the gaping, hungry mouth was filled again and again.

“
Good bird, good baby,” Kack crooned. “Enough now.” She reached for the tiny bird. He hopped from corner to corner to avoid her hand. Finally she grasped the struggling baby loosely and put him into a wicker cage, covering it with a dark cloth, telling the children, “Animals that are hurt or sick like the dark. It makes them feel safe.”

“
Why?” Bradley asked. “I’m afraid of the dark, especially when I’m sick.”
“I don’t know why, Bradley, I just know.”

“
He ate a lot. He was a hungry bird,” April observed.

“
Yes, that was a good sign,” Katherine agreed. “I can’t promise that I can make him well, though. Birds are very difficult – they scare so easy. Sometimes they die of fright just being so close to people.”

Both children looked solemn.
Katherine tried to cheer them up. The last two days had been bad enough. Brightly, she said, “As long as you two are here, you can do some work and keep out of trouble.” She set them to work shelling peas.

Both children li
ked visiting the cabin. It smelled of roots and spices, and always in the corner of one of the cages there was a creature mending.

Dr. Martin had prescribed castor oil and sunshine, so the boys could not be sent back to the attic for punishment, as origina
lly planned. They were banished from outdoor pleasures, however, and only allowed to go as far as the porch. The Judge would be home Friday; then he would decide what to do about their disobedience. Jealously, they watched April and Bradley set out for the cabin each day.

Some of the freshly harvested manroot was strung about the cabin to dry.

“Is it over, the sang-hunt?” April asked.

“
No, child. There’s plenty more out there. It’s hot days and cold nights that make the time right to pick it.”

“
Can Bradley and I go with you?”

“
Sure, if you promise to mind the rules.”

“
We will.” In the cabin, on the string above April’s head, a small, headless man dangled. “Is it magic?” she whispered.

“
Not exactly, but it is very special. It’s good for lots of things. When you were sick, we put ginseng in the tea. It made you well.”

The week went by very slowly.
The boys were prisoners of the house, the boundary being the porch. They wished their father would return to decide their punishment and be done with it.

When he retu
rned on Friday night, he was told of the mishap. He listened to every detail. He said nothing. The next morning, Hannah told them that the Judge had said they were free to leave the house, but they were not to go to the river.

They whooped and hollered and
ran about the lawns like wild Indians. Even the sight of Bruce coming from the woods laden down with wheat-stalks did not distract them. Usually they couldn’t resist the urge to tease him in some way, but today they ran over to help him carry the stalks to his room by the kitchen.

Each boy prided himself on how good he was.
They played summer games with Bradley and April, they built a fort in the woods, put canteens and blankets in their hideout and imagined themselves rough woodsmen.

It was two weeks after the mishap when on an early Sunday the house was awakened by the ringing of the bells. The firehouse, schoolhouse, and every church in the valley rang their bells, and the sound echoed ominously throughout the Meramec Valley.

The Judge ca
me down and found the children seated at the table ready to eat. “Get dressed,” he ordered. “April, too.”

“
Wh-where are we going?” Kyle asked. The smile died on his face as he saw his father’s fierce expression.

“
Get dressed! White shirts, blue trousers, and your Sunday shoes.” He turned to April. “Your mother will tell you what to wear.”

The three children looked at one another, puzzled.

As they went up the stairs, they heard Elizabeth pleading with him. “Please, William, it’s too harsh. Please, not April. Don’t make her go.”

“
No, it’s decided. I have Jenny’s permission for her to go.”