She didn’t wait for my prompting. “You said he was a sleepwalker? The soldier in the barbed wire, right?”
“Yes,” I nodded, knowing now that she was thinking the same as me. Sleepwalkers don’t carry guns and they don’t survive gunfire waiting to be rescued.
She shook her head and sighed deeply. Heaviness blanketed us both. We didn’t speak again for a long while. Instead we rested, exchanging harmonized breaths.
Chapter Eighteen
Here is what I remember of Lishie’s funeral:
Grease
Lilies
Tobacco
Vanilla
Fresh dirt
Pine sap
Except this time, this ceremony, I remember one more thing: Essie. I remember her sitting beside me. I remember turning my face toward her when the sunlight pierced down over the grave, temporarily blinding us all. I turned toward her instead of Bud, who sat on my left side. And as I choked down tears that seemed to rise up from my gut, my chest heaving in the struggle, I remember Essie taking my hand in hers.
We buried Lishie that morning high on a hillside, beside my father and my mother, beside two open spaces awaiting Bud’s and my bodies. There were no other graves around. I thought of what Essie told me about her mother not getting to choose who she was buried next to. I thought too of Watkins Cemetery, close to Bryson City. How other Cherokees elected to continue to share the cemetery with whites, blacks, and those of their own blood. Graves side by side. How those of each respective community came on Decoration Day at some unspoken agreed-upon hour so that they could honor the graves separately. I thought of how their souls would mix all the same. How their blood and bones and flesh would dissolve and evaporate together. I wondered if Essie might choose to bury her mother there, just for spite. I wondered where I would choose to be buried if I could. Would it be among the purest of familiar blood on this hilltop, or could I make one last attempt to improve my bloodline in shared soil?
This hillside cemetery was not so much formal grounds, like the churchyards of neighboring towns, as it was a return to unspoiled earth. A lost traveler might one day even mistake it for a collection of nondescript stones haphazardly placed in the middle of nowhere in particular. Birds chattered on perimeter limbs as if disturbed by our intrusion. But as Bud knelt down, still clutching the shovel he had used to cover the casket with dirt, and the ladies in boldly colored headscarves sang “Amazing Grace” in our language, I had never felt such a holy order surround me. Bud’s shoulders shook as he sobbed, head lowered. His grief was startling. It overtook my own so that I was left to stand in awe of this shared loss with a man I felt I had never shared anything with before. Other than the singers and Bud’s wet gasps, I heard no human voices until Preacherman’s words came into focus, “For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”
As we walked back down the hill, Bud came up behind me and grabbed my right shoulder, almost causing me to trip into Essie, who led the way. “We need to talk, Cowney.”
“I know,” I responded, still trying to make my way down the hill. “But I need to get Essie back to Asheville soon.” Essie turned, hearing the mention of her name, but chose to walk faster, offering privacy for Bud and me.
“She can wait. We have a lot of decisions to make.” Bud released my shoulder and walked beside me.
“I thought we’d made all of the important ones.”
“Cowney, you can’t run away to Asheville from this and hope everything just gets sorted out.”
“What? Run away from what? From you? From that old cabin? From Cherokee? I think all those things will be just fine without me.”
Bud turned and blocked my path. “Cowney. Dammit, son. Listen to me. There are other things we need to talk about. Things you need to know.” He was sweating heavily and breathing hard.
“What? Your damn bear huntin’? I’m not going to be your errand boy. I tried. Ahh. Never mind. It can wait until the summer ends.” I brushed past Bud. “Tell you what. I promise that we’ll talk before I leave for school.”
“School?” The word froze Bud.
“I’m going this fall.” I reminded him that Lishie sent off for the applications before she could confirm that I could not enter the service, her insurance that she would not lose another boy to war. But even as I said it, school was beginning to feel like an impossibility. I still didn’t even know how I could afford it. I left Bud standing alone and walked home. Back at the cabin, Essie waited for me on the front porch steps. “Cowney, I really can find—” she began.
“No. Just give me a second to pack some things. We’ll leave shortly.”
“Okay.” She smiled, resigning herself. “I’ll go ahead and make us some sandwiches for the road. I don’t want to stop on the way if we can help it. I’ll meet you at the car.”
I packed a clean set of clothes Myrtle had prepared for me, knowing I only had work clothes at the inn and that I would not be back to Cherokee on any more weekend visits until the job ended. I packed two books, The Great Gatsby and The Sun Also Rises, considering I might leave them in room 447 or trade them for two already on the shelves; and I pulled the bone, still wrapped in its bandana handkerchief, from my bottom bureau drawer. I did not pack it in the suitcase, so I could easily show it to Essie as we drove to Asheville.
Bud did not protest as we pulled out of the driveway in the Model T. I imagined he would spend the day there, thanking well-wishers and cleaning up half-eaten dishes. I imagined that Myrtle would help also since Bud was never much one for cleaning house.
I looked briefly into the side mirror and watched him trudge up the porch steps and disappear through the open door. Then he and the cabin were lost to me within the blanket of smoke. Lishie was lost to me. Never again would I find her there, darning a quilt or stirring a pot of beans. Never again would she wait for me to return.
Chapter Nineteen
The weeks that followed my and Essie’s return to the inn seemed like time rewound, with only a few minor changes. Essie and I continued to retreat to 447, where I placed the bone on the fireplace mantel in a place of honor. I was so thick with grief over Lishie, I found myself holding vigil with the bone. So far from her grave, I needed somewhere to speak to her in private, stolen moments. Staring at the bone in 447 afforded me that short-lived solace. Essie found me there more than once, red-faced and bleary-eyed. Her interruptions were just about the only thing that motivated me to numbly carry on through daily tasks. She continued to see Andrea, who had at least stopped staring at me every time I passed, though he rarely spoke more than a few words of greeting when Essie was around, and not at all if she was not. In a strange way, I missed the hard stares from Andrea. At least they were a sign that I posed some sort of threat to him and his relationship with Essie. I liked believing he might be jealous. I wondered what she had told him to quell his suspicions and what he would think about our time in the room together. Was I less to her as well? I also worried that she would bring Andrea to the room, that he might even stake his claim there; but I was too afraid to ask, too afraid to start an argument and unbalance the peace we had created.
Lee and Sol continued to be Lee and Sol, and I drew fierce power in the name of Carol when Sol fell into a mood or got drunk. Peter joined Essie and me for some of our meals, especially breakfast, when the other soldiers weren’t up yet to invite him to their table. A time or two, Essie and I discussed taking Peter to the room, but thought better of it. He still had one foot in each world, theirs and ours, and we decided there was not much to gain from showing him. He would likely have to report its existence as a matter of security anyway.
Essie was ecstatic when I told her that Peter could wrangle us a canoe. I did not tell her of my original intention of going without her to make her jealous. A few days after my return to the inn, Essie, Peter, Carol, and I made our way to the confluence of the French Broad and Swannanoa Rivers.
When we arrived at the designated spot, I snapped the first picture of the outing�
�my three companions for the day standing side by side with paddles raised. Peter and I unloaded the canoes and the girls spread out blankets for our pre-race picnic.
“Okay, we’ve decided our teams,” Essie announced.
“Girls versus boys,” Carol said as she placed strips of bacon onto a slice of bread.
“Well, that’s not fair!” I interjected.
“What are you saying, Cowpie? We can’t handle the big bad river by ourselves?” Essie mocked.
“That’s not it at all.” I shook my head. “It’s not fair that the two of you get to be together. We all know you ladies cheat!”
“How you figure?” Carol asked.
“Oh, don’t play innocent, Carol. We all know you broke poor Sol’s heart when you went out with that townie last week. Once a cheater, always a cheater.” I shielded my body from the inevitable fists headed my direction.
“Well, sorry. It’s done. Put on your big-boy knickers!” Essie jibed.
“Yeah, and hold on tight!” Carol added.
It’s not important who won that day, at least as far as I am concerned. What is important is how free we felt—so far from the fences of the inn. Before that summer not a one of us knew each other. I can’t even say Essie and I really knew each other. And I think if we had stayed at the inn, we never would have really known each other either. I mean the kind of knowing that comes with neutral land. None of us were in our place. We were all just visitors. There was no inside knowledge, and as much as I teased Carol, no one had the advantage. The girls’ boat was lighter. Our collective arm strength was greater. Nature’s rapids decided the outcome for us.
When we had raced twice, losing both times to the less than humble ladies, we lay on the bank talking for hours. The sun warmed us, eventually forcing us back into the river to wade waist deep.
I took so many photos that day that the film stopped just like Lee said it would. Back at the inn, I ejected the film and tucked it into my suitcase so I would be sure to have it for development the next time I returned to town. I walked Essie back to her dorm in the fading light. The air had cooled, sending goosebumps across my sunburned forearms.
“You meeting Andrea tonight?” I asked, trying to be casual. His name still shredded every nerve in my body.
“Yes. He promised a picnic dinner on the grounds.” She ascended the steps to her dorm then paused, turning to face me.
I looked at her, confused. I couldn’t believe she’d be so bold.
“I know. We’ll be careful. I think he has a place picked out in the tree groves, near the fence line. The guards will be at dinner in the hall before the evening shift. We’ll still have to wait until dark, though … and eat pretty quickly. But I’ll let him figure all that out.”
Essie seemed to always allow Andrea to take the lead, make the plans. She never allowed anyone else the same responsibility.
“I think he might ask me to go with him.”
“Go where?”
“Back to Italy, silly,” Essie smiled, reaching down to jab my arm.
“Oh, really?” I couldn’t look at her when I spoke. I didn’t want to see her excitement.
“Can you imagine? Italy. It must be beautiful.”
“Well, probably was at one time. Not sure how it will look after the war.”
“Italy has to be lovely. Of course, any place is better than Cherokee.”
She might have been right, but I couldn’t help feeling defensive. I had spent the whole summer running away from Cherokee, trying to find a way never to be stuck there, and yet to hear her say this, well, it felt sacrilegious. I wanted to tell her not to speak that way of our home.
“So you’re definitely going if he asks?”
“I think. I couldn’t even imagine him leaving without me.”
“So you’re sure you’re not going to college?”
“This just seems more likely.”
I was beginning to hate how sickeningly optimistic Essie could become when talking about Andrea. Nothing else in the world brought out such naiveté in her, and those moments were probably the only ones keeping me from falling so deeply in love with her that I couldn’t make my way out again.
“I hope you’re right, Essie.”
“Oh, Cowpie. You truly can be such a rain cloud.” She shook her head. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She paused for a moment before reaching for the door. “Say, how about I fix you up with one of the girls?”
“Oh, no!” I protested.
“Well, you need to find you some kind of distraction before the summer ends. Otherwise you’ll go back home to chasing monkeys and avoiding Bud.”
“I guess you do have a point.” I shrugged. She took a step back down as I stepped up, allowing her to kiss me on the cheek as had become our routine. Oh, how I prayed for poor aim just one time!
That evening, I lay on my cot unable to sleep. I knew it was just about time for Essie to sneak to the fence line with Andrea, and the image of him spreading a blanket on the grass and proposing their future agitated me. Lately, it was unusual for me to struggle falling asleep, as the day’s work in the heat was exhausting. What was more of a challenge was staying asleep.
Lishie visited my dreams most nights. Sometimes they were comforting, as if nothing had changed between us. Sometimes they were terrifying, accusatory even. She would plead with me to save her life but no matter how I tried, I could not. I never dreamed of Essie, probably because she was still a part of my reality. But I did dream of the waterfall and the wounded bear, and sometimes I dreamt of the mother bear and heard her scream. Those were the nights that I awoke in a sweat. The sound was so real, so deafening in my ears that it took several minutes of wakefulness for the ringing to dissipate.
The night that Andrea met Essie by the fence line, I was dreaming mother bear dreams as my mind fell in and out of consciousness. I tried to shake myself back into reality, but presence of mind was losing badly to the physical exhaustion of my body. The bear would be rooting by the roadside at first, like she was digging up grubs or roots or something, and I would find myself outside the car watching her. When I turned back to the car, Lishie would be gone. I’d turn again to the bear and ask, “Where’d she go?” The bear would look at me like I was stupid and then rise up on two legs, screaming so loudly that my whole body shook, so violently that when I awoke from the fear, my cot still vibrated. I lay there for a few moments until I realized that I could still hear the scream … except that the scream was not a scream, it was a siren … and the vibrations were coming from the heavy boots of soldiers running across the pine floorboards.
Drill? I wondered, though I hadn’t remembered the guards responding so alertly to drills in the past. I sat up in my cot and looked at the workmen who were also awake, confused.
“What’s going on?” I called to Lee, a few cots over.
“Not sure. The siren woke me up.”
I got up and walked outside just as Peter rushed by. “Lieutenant. Franks!” I called to him. “Lieutenant! What’s going on?”
“Must be about the guest that went missing,” he stopped to whisper. He likely saw the fear on my face because he quickly confirmed for me, “Not Andrea. It’s a young girl, a daughter of one of the diplomats. They must have a lead. That’s all I know. Go back to sleep,” he instructed and then continued toward the other gathering soldiers. I hadn’t heard of a missing girl, besides the vague rumors I heard prior to coming to the inn. But when I thought about it, the guards had been acting unusual. This hadn’t been the first siren. I imagine the powers that be were in no great hurry to admit they had lost a prisoner.
“What’d he say?” Lee asked as I returned. All of the workers were looking at me now.
“A little girl is missing. One of the guest’s daughters.”
“Oh, there’ll be hell to pay,” Sol grumbled sarcastically. “God forbid something happens to one of those brats.”
“Shut up, Sol,” Lee scolded him. “You boys try to get some shute
ye. Nothing we can do and I’m sure this doesn’t mean we get a holiday in the morning.”
I lay back down and closed my eyes. I pulled the pillow around my head, but only managed to slightly muffle the wail of the siren. I remained in that position for nearly an hour, I guess, until the siren wound down and I dozed off, waking what seemed like only minutes later to the sound of Lee’s alarm clock.
With the first clang of tiny hammer hitting the brass bell, I sat straight up and swung my feet onto the floor. Along with the other men, I dressed and headed for the dining hall. Periodically, the siren would blare and subside again.
A guard in front of the dining hall met us. “Good morning, gentlemen.” He spoke to us as a group. “As you are probably aware, we are on high alert this morning. You are not in danger, but please let me remind you that when you hear the siren, you should consider yourself on lock-down wherever you are. If you are outside, please proceed to the nearest building until you are released.”
Who’s the prisoner now? I wondered as I made my way past him into the dining hall. Essie was not inside, though her friends were. Carol avoided eye contact, but the others made note of my entrance. “Where’s Essie?” I mouthed to one of the girls.
She shrugged and whispered a worried “We don’t know.”
I pushed back from the table. The morning breakfast smells were nauseating. Had they found her and Andrea while they were looking for the girl? They wouldn’t have expected guards. I decided that I had to go look for her. I made my way to the inn’s main building, trying to concoct a plausible reason for doing so should one of the soldiers swarming across the property stop me.
I climbed the large rock steps and entered the front entrance with as much false confidence as I could muster. Surely Essie would be with Mrs. Parks if she were in trouble. I turned in the direction of her office. I had no idea what I was going to say if I found Essie there, but I wasn’t going to leave her alone, as surely Andrea had. I made it only halfway down the hall before I saw her. Essie was alone. I was grateful. Likely the other drama of a missing child had taken more of everyone’s attention. When she saw me, Essie took off in a sprint toward me. My heart leapt, grateful she was relieved to see me.
Even As We Breathe Page 16
