by Pam Webber
“I miss her so much.”
“Understandably. Nibi loved you and knew you were capable of continuing her work.”
Win looked around the room. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Neither did Nibi at first. She wasn’t much older than you when she took over for her mother. Give it time.”
“I need to figure out where to keep all of this.”
“You may keep it here if you wish. The tribal elders voted to allow you free use of the schoolhouse. It sits empty except for tribal meetings, and those can be moved next door to the church. You’re free to set up this place as you see fit, and there’s no rush. After you finish school, you can decide what you want to do, and when, and how. Until then, here’s the key. Come and go as you please. I’m right across the road should you need anything.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Nettie nudged her and grinned. “Maybe ‘thank you.’”
Win hugged the chief. “Thank you so much.”
The chief hand-signaled, “Welcome home.”
For two hours, Nettie, Win, and Chief Brannon followed Tyree’s Creek up the back of Bear Mountain. They stopped at the base of the mudslide where Nettie had found the white arrowhead and the Indian brave’s skull. Grass, vines, seedlings, and weeds had already begun to reclaim the displaced soil.
Squatting to get a drink from the creek, the chief studied the edges of the washout. “We didn’t get the deluge of rain Rockfish Valley did, but we got enough to cause more slides. Thankfully, they were small and didn’t hit important areas, especially this one.”
“The burial mound made it through?”
The chief nodded. “Thanks to the tribe. We started working on it the day after you two were here.” He cleaned off a small branch and gave it to Nettie to use as a walking stick as they headed up the soft edge of the washout.
Near the top, above the burial mound, rose a thick, semicircular berm of sticks, logs, and mud.
“It looks like a beaver dam,” Nettie said.
“Who knows how to manipulate water better than beavers?” the Chief asked, chuckling. He pointed to long strands of running cedar crisscrossing the base of the mound. “These vines have strong roots. They’ll help stop erosion as well.”
Nettie ran her fingers across the spidery boughs scattered along the ropey vine. She could attest to its strength but stayed quiet. Some memories didn’t need to be shared.
Leading the way to the far side of the mound, Chief Brannon found the stone marking the spot where they’d reburied the Indian brave’s skull. Moving it aside, he dug a small, deep hole.
Nettie rubbed her thumb over the smooth surface of the white arrowhead that had helped save her life. Part of her wanted to keep it, but she knew where and to whom it belonged. He’d simply loaned it to her.
“Point up.” Chief Brannon motioned for her to place the stone.
Once they had returned and repacked the dirt, Win sprinkled sweetgrass over the mound as the chief chanted a beautiful, melodic prayer. After replacing the marker, they made their way back to the creek, then down the mountain. Win and the chief stayed deep in conversation most of the way. Nettie said a quick prayer of thanks, grateful her friend had such a friend.
Back at the schoolhouse, Chief Brannon said he’d give them a ride home. He stayed unusually quiet until they reached Allen’s Hill. Pulling over, he studied the sunset-tinted slope. “Nibi lived a full and meaningful life, but she bore a sadness that time couldn’t heal. Part of the reason lives in that house. Nibi wanted you all to do what she couldn’t.” From his shirt pocket, the chief pulled a faded photograph of two girls with long, dark hair, oval faces, and happy smiles. One of the girls looked like a young Nibi; the other, Nettie didn’t recognize. Two young men stood behind them. The face of one had blurred with time; the other was no one she knew. On the back of the picture were the words “I love you.”
“Nibi asked that you two return this photo to the woman who lives in the mansion.”
Nettie gasped and studied the picture again. “That’s Alise Allen? And Nibi?”
The chief nodded.
“Who are the men with them?” Win asked. “Who loved who?”
“That’s not for me to say. Let the story unfold as Nibi wanted. When you return the picture, she asked that you take Piccolo with you.”
Now that he had only the Amherst train station to care for and the Weak and Weary was limited to twice-a-day passenger runs to Richmond, it wasn’t hard to find Pic. The last train for the day left as Nettie and Win settled on a shaded bench to share penny candy with him. He’d struggled when Nibi passed, but lately seemed to be bouncing back.
“What can I do for you girlies today?”
“We want you to go with us to see someone.”
“Me? Who?”
“Alise Allen.”
Pic stopped chewing. “Why?”
“We have something to give her. From Nibi.”
He swallowed hard.
“Nibi wanted you to go with us.”
“May I ask what it is?”
“A picture.”
“May I see it?”
As he studied the photo, Pic’s wrinkled face went smooth, as if transported back in time. Turning it over, he looked away quickly. “I don’t know about all this. Some things are best left in the past.”
“At the police station, the night of the flood, when Nibi was in trouble and Win and I were heading to Oak’s Landing, you hurried off, saying you had to tell Alise. You know her.”
He whispered, “I know her. That doesn’t mean . . .”
Nettie’s voice softened. “You’re the night visitor we’ve seen climbing Allen’s Hill, aren’t you?”
Pic’s hand shook as he straightened his shoulders. “Yes.”
Win covered his hand with hers. “You and Nibi were friends for a long time. You know she wouldn’t have wanted us to do this if it wasn’t important.”
“You don’t realize what you’re asking.”
“No. But Nibi did.”
Pic wiped his sleeve across his eyes and looked at the railroad tracks, then stared at the picture for a long time. He finally took a deep breath and returned it to Win. Reaching into his worn leather bindle, he dug to the bottom, searching for something. “Maybe Nibi’s right. Maybe it is time.” In his hand lay a beautiful raw amethyst.
Chimes resonated through the mansion as Nettie, Win, and Pic waited in front of double doors of frosted, carved glass with a matching transom and heavy brass knobs. Large coach lanterns and planters with miniature trees stood on each side.
“This porch is beautiful. It’s a shame not many people get to see it.”
Cool air rushed out as a brown woman with salt-and-pepper hair answered the door. Recognition flashed across her face. “Good evening.”
“Good evening, Marianna,” Pic said. “Please tell Alise I’m here with friends.”
She hesitated.
“It’s all right, Marianna.”
“Of course.” She backed up and allowed them to enter.
The raised-paneled foyer had mirror circular staircases, a marble floor, an oval center table with a vase of fresh flowers, and a chandelier so bright it hurt Nettie’s eyes.
Marianna ushered them into a room full of sofas, chairs, inlaid tables, and hardwood floors covered partially with Oriental rugs. “Please have a seat.”
Pic settled into a wingback chair in one of three separate sitting areas in the large room while Nettie and Win explored. Hurricane sconces gave a rich glow to beautifully papered walls, heavy drapes, shelves full of books and intricate fancies, and paintings of distant places and unknown people. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.
“Pic, did you know any of these folks?”
He nodded.
Marianna reappeared at the door. “Mrs. Allen is not receiving visitors today. She asked if you could come back another time.”
Nettie and Win moved toward the door, but Pic raised his hand to
stop them. “Please tell Alise I said it’s time to end this. We’re not leaving until we talk with her.”
“But, sir.”
“Please, Marianna.”
Nettie had never heard Pic speak this way. Quiet. Resolved.
Marianna left the room, moving more quickly than when she’d entered.
Pic rubbed the stump where his right hand should have been, lost in a time and place only he could see.
Nettie and Win sat on the edge of a velvet sofa, glancing around the room, at each other, and at Pic. Somewhere a clock ticked, but no doors opened or closed, no air conditioners hummed, no voices chatted, no dogs barked. Nothing gave the mansion the semblance of being anything more than a home for ghosts.
Nettie and Win rose as an elegant version of Nibi appeared in the doorway, in black trousers and a gray silk blouse, her silver hair in a soft bun. The woman’s pale, oval face showed few wrinkles. Marianna stood by her side.
“Good evening.”
Pic stood. “Hello, Alise.”
The two stared at each other, deep in a silent conversation.
“Pic, may I speak with you privately for a moment?”
Nettie and Win could hear their muffled voices down the hall, sometimes raised, sometimes barely there. They talked for a long time.
When they reappeared, Pic had his arm around Alise’s waist. She appeared shaken, her eyes red. “Girls, I’d like for you to meet Alise Allen, Nibi’s sister and Win’s great-aunt.”
Win wobbled, as Nettie stammered, “S-s-sister?”
Alise nodded. “We should talk on the veranda. Fresh air might help all of us.”
Pic took Alise’s elbow and escorted her toward the back of the mansion. They walked comfortably, practiced. Nettie and Win followed, speechless.
They exited the house through oversize French doors onto a sandstone patio bordered by a low wall that opened into a garden of boxwoods and flowering shrubs. Nettie caught the faint scent of Angel Water. In the center of the garden stood a trilevel fountain; the soothing glissade of water reflected the flickering light of lanterns mounted along the wall.
Alise led them to a lanai and invited them to have a seat. She and Pic settled on one sofa while Nettie and Win sat across from them on a matching one, the cushions soft as down. A spotless glass-topped table sat between them.
“Marianna, would you please bring our guests some lemonade and cookies?”
“Certainly.”
Pic turned to Alise. “The girls have something to show you.”
Win handed her the picture. Alise studied it closely.
“Turn it over,” Pic whispered.
Alise Allen slumped as she read the words. Pulling a lace-trimmed handkerchief from her pocket, she murmured, “I can’t do this.”
Pic put his arm around her. “Yes, you can. Nibi paved the way. You’ve punished yourself long enough.”
“Enough? It will never be enough.”
“Then stop punishing me. I’m an old man, Alise. My happiness rests with you. I want to step out of the shadows.”
“If Carlton finds out—”
“If he finds out, he finds out. Forty years of living under his threats is enough. I’m done. Nibi loved these girls. She wouldn’t have sent them to you if she didn’t want them to know our story.”
“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
“I do.” Interlacing his fingers with Alise’s, Pic took a deep breath and smiled at Nettie and Win. “Do you remember that day on the train I told you about coming to Oak’s Landing from South Carolina during the Depression? That Nibi’s father had given my brother and me jobs at the pulp mill and let us sleep in his barn?”
Nettie and Win nodded.
“My brother’s name was Dell.”
Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
“That summer, Dell and I met his daughters, Nibi and Alise, beauties then and now. Nibi and Dell fell for each other almost overnight, spending every minute they could together. In three months, they were engaged. Three months after that, they were married and living on Buffalo Ridge Mountain.” Pic kissed Alise’s hand. “That’s when we fell in love too.”
In the distance, the Weak and Weary’s whistle blew, interrupting their moment.
“When we met, Alise was engaged to a man named Carlton Wilkes, son of the man who owned dozens of pulp-and-paper mills up and down the East Coast, including the one in Oak’s Landing.”
Alise spoke so softly, Nettie had to strain to hear. “I met Carlton when he came to Oak’s Landing from New York to oversee the retooling of the pulp mill. He was charming and attentive. And rich.” The last word fell from her lips as if it burned. “He worked for his father and had to travel a great deal. He sent me flowers every day he was gone and brought expensive gifts when he returned. Early on, it was easy to convince myself that I was in love with him.”
Crickets in the surrounding flower beds began chirping, forcing Alise to speak more loudly. “After we became engaged, Carlton changed. He started criticizing my family and friends, most of whom didn’t like him either, especially Nibi. He became suspicious and controlling. He wanted to decide when and where we went as a couple and didn’t want me going out at all if he wasn’t in town. I told him I felt like a prisoner and wasn’t going to live like that. He apologized and blamed his behavior on prewedding jitters. Afterward, he returned to his normal, charming self. Nibi didn’t believe the change would last. Foolishly, I did.”
Marianna came out of the house with a tinkling tray. After handing out cloth napkins, she placed lemonade in crystal glasses on coasters in front of everyone and passed a plate of homemade cookies.
“Thank you, Marianna,” Pic said.
“You’re most welcome.”
Alise continued, “Not long after Carlton and I had that conversation, he left on an extended trip to retool another pulp mill in the South. While he was away, my father hired Pic and Dell to work at the mill here and to help out around the farm. That’s how Nibi and I met them. Pic was so handsome and fun-loving. He made me feel more lighthearted than I had in quite a while. Over time, I realized he was also the most kind and caring man I’d ever met. Still is.” Alise leaned against Pic’s shoulder.
“Alise and I would sit by the river and talk for hours or go for long hikes in the mountains. Sometimes we’d go with Nibi to gather plants.”
Alise nodded. “Those were special days.”
“We even went with Nibi and Dell to the amethyst mine. Nibi needed a stone for her dreamcatcher, so Alise and I decided to go along and mine one too.”
Alise took a slow sip of lemonade. “That was the day I knew I was in love with Pic. I asked him to keep our amethyst until I could break my engagement. I planned to tell Carlton as soon as he returned from his business trip, but before that could happen, someone wired him that Pic and I were spending time together. Carlton came back to town right away and went to see Pic.”
Pic frowned. “He said he knew about me and Alise and offered me a thousand dollars to leave town. I said no. He kept offering more money, until I told him he was wasting his time, that he didn’t have enough money to make me leave. He got angry, called me railroad trash, and said he’d kill me if I ever came near Alise again—and if that wasn’t enough to stop me, he’d kill Alise.”
Nettie moved to the edge of her seat. “That’s crazy. Did you go to the police?”
“Yes, I went right away. Back then, Sheriff Tanner was a deputy and a friend of ours. He went to see Carlton and told him that threatening to kill anyone was against the law and would land him in jail. Carlton lied, said it was all a misunderstanding and that he’d smooth things over with Alise and me. He knew Tanner would be keeping an eye on him, so Carlton hired a thug named Monroe to watch Alise. Dell and I knew Monroe because he used to hang around the hobo camp near the train station. He was mean as a snake. I knew if Carlton decided to make good on his threat to hurt Alise, Monroe wouldn’t hesitate to do it, so I stayed away from her until I cou
ld figure out what to do.”
Alise fingered the lace edges of her handkerchief. “Carlton came to see me later that day. He didn’t let on that he’d seen Pic until I told him I was breaking the engagement and tried to give his ring back. He slapped it out of my hand and pushed me against the wall. He said he knew all about my pauper boyfriend and that if I broke the engagement, Pic would disappear permanently. Then he said if I told anyone, Nibi would disappear too.”
Nettie and Win were hanging on every word.
“I was terrified he’d hurt the people I loved, so I stayed quiet. Nibi tried her best to talk me out of marrying him. She knew he was blackmailing me and said she’d help me find a way out. But I knew Carlton would make good on his threats.” Alise paused to take a deep breath. “After we were married, he moved us to Amherst, to this big house, and hired Marianna and Albert, the gardener. By then, Carlton wasn’t even trying to be nice. Not to me, Nibi, or anyone else I was close to. He became physically abusive as well. Every night he’d badger me with questions, demanding to know where I’d been, whom I’d seen and talked with. If my answers didn’t match what Monroe told him, he’d hit me.” Alise shuddered. “Always below the neck, so no one could see.”
Pic took her hand.
“We’d been married a couple of months when Carlton found out Marianna and Albert were actually friends of Nibi’s. When he got home that night, he was livid, and drunk. He beat me so badly I couldn’t stand up. Marianna and Albert heard my screams and kept banging on the bedroom door until he stopped. Carlton pushed past them and stormed out of the house. Marianna and Albert helped me up and said Nibi, Dell, and Pic were on their way. Nibi had had a vision and knew I was in trouble.” Alise paused and shook her head. “She’d just had a baby a few days before, but there she was, coming to rescue me.”
“That sounds just like Nibi,” Win said.
“As soon as Pic and the others arrived, we headed for the train station, while Marianna and Albert went to tell Tanner what was going on.”
Alise paused as the repeated hoos of an owl floated toward them from beyond the fountain. Nettie couldn’t help but wonder what color its feathers were.
