by Jane Toombs
The old woman shook her head. “Ei!” she said. “No! Not a spell, a fit, a convulsion. He has made you this way with his meddling. You only go inside yourself to see what is past, what is true. It is his fault.”
“Who?”
“Your father. He seeks to protect but he has crippled you so you cannot remember what you find of the truth within. He has hung a curtain and left you no way to push it aside. But you must find one. A way of your own—not of Toivi’s.”
“Did you leave the kulta pollo under my pillow, Akki?”
Akki glanced over her shoulder. “She must not know I have the chest with the owl. I have kept it away from her many years now.”
“But you put it under my pillow. Was that why, to help me find my—my lost self?”
Before Akki could answer, Arnie began whimpering anew, startling them both.
“Can you quiet him again?” Janella asked.
“Not so soon. I will get something else. Wait.”
While Akki was gone Janella tried to feed Arnie, but he still wouldn’t swallow. He knows I’m not Helen, she thought. How can he possibly tell? She tried to keep her eyes from the arm bud with one finger—this deformity bothered her the most, making Arnie seem a sort of monster. His thin wail circled her head, tightening like a band, making her head ache. She took a despairing breath. What if she wasn’t able to get him to eat at all? Helen would never forgive her if anything happened to him.
Then Akki was back, bending over the crib, her body shielding Arnie from Janella’s vision.
“What are you doing?”
“A bit of medicine,” Akki said, and Janella caught a glimpse of a syringe and needle before the old woman thrust them back into a pocket.
“What did you give him? I saw the hypo—what was it?”
“He will relax and eat his food. Don’t worry. But you must take him away in the morning.”
“I didn’t know you were going to give him medicine,” Janella said, “or I’d have stopped you. I thought you were getting the owl and would…” She paused, unsure of just what she had thought Akki would do with the owl.
“The kulta pollo is dangerous to use. I have never tried to gather power with the owl, to find the strange pathways. And I keep it from Toivi lest she harm herself. It was your father’s and his mother’s and her father’s for untold generations backwards. The kulta pollo is old, ancient. Only those who have the gift may use it unharmed. When the curtain is lifted I will return it to you. Not before.”
Janella stood looking at the door after Akki had shut it behind her. Then she turned to stare apprehensively at the crib. But the boy was quieting. A few minutes later, when she tried the formula again, he sucked and swallowed, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She cleaned him up afterwards, avoiding his blank stare as she turned him from side to side to get the diaper fastened. Something about his eyes seemed different, but he was content, and she left him to get herself ready for bed.
Looking in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth, it came to her what was unusual about Arnie’s eyes—the pupils were so small, practically dots. Surely they weren’t always like that? A phrase she’d learned in her medical assistant’s course came to her. Pinpoint pupils. But what had caused them? She was too tired to think. Funny eyes her relatives had—Arnie with tiny pupils and Toivi’s so large they almost obliterated the iris.
Once in bed, she lay rigid, listening for a sound from the crib. Finally she got up and went over to make sure Arnie was breathing. Stop being foolish, she told herself. Akki wouldn’t give him anything harmful, and he’s lived for twelve years. Go to sleep. But she left the bedside lamps on.
She slept poorly, rousing to listen for Arnie, and woke early. An entire sentence from the pharmacology chapter in her medical assistant’s textbook was in her mind: “One of the early symptoms of morphine overdose is pinpoint pupils.”
Janella sprang out of bed and ran over to the crib. Arnie was lying completely still, as he always did. She put a hand on his chest, and took a deep breath when she felt the regular rise and fall. His eyes opened and she bent to peer into them. The pupils were a normal size. Had she imagined the constriction last night?
Where would Akki get morphine? A doctor’s prescription was needed, and they didn’t give out narcotics without a reason. Who was in such pain here that morphine would be necessary? Or was she making a big deal out of nothing?
Arnie’s cry of hunger roused Janella from speculation, and she hurriedly pulled on a robe. The rest of his formula was in the kitchen refrigerator—she’d need to warm it.
Ruth wasn’t around when she got downstairs—too early for her arrival, Janella thought, and was glad to miss the disapproving glances and studied ignoring. She drank a glass of orange juice while she waited for the bottle to heat, and wished she had time for coffee. But that was too long to leave Arnie when he was hungry.
Janella climbed the stairs with the warm bottle of formula in her hand. I could be going upstairs to feed my own baby, she thought. I might have had a baby by now if I’d ever met a man who loved me. Will I ever? she wondered, and sighed. Poor Arnie was such a sad substitute for a normal, healthy baby.
Lucien’s children would be beautiful. Hastily she thrust the thought away and went in to feed her half brother.
Getting a towel from the bathroom to catch any dribbles, she went over to the crib and stood frozen, staring at the tumbled sheet and blanket. The crib was empty.
Chapter Sixteen
Without thinking, Janella found herself at Toivi’s door. She knocked and tried the knob at the same time. It turned in her hand and she pushed the door open as her aunt said, “Come in—it’s not locked.”
Toivi was sitting up in her white bed with Arnie stretched across her legs. He lay quietly, not curled and cuddly because his joints were stiff with disuse, but seemingly content.
“Don’t look so alarmed,” Toivi said. “I haven’t stolen your brother, I’ve merely borrowed him. The poor little dear was crying so and wanted his Aunt Toivi to comfort him.” With surprise and distaste, Janella watched Toivi kiss Arnie on the lips and fondle his head, running her fingers through his sparse hair.
“I—I didn’t expect him to be gone from the crib.” Suddenly she felt awkward, defensive. Here was Toivi, able to take Arnie in her arms and caress him while she, who had known him since birth, was only able to grudgingly care for his needs. She shifted the formula bottle from one hand to the other, not knowing what else to say.
“Is that his food?” Toivi asked, holding out her hand. Janella came to the bedside to hand her the bottle.
Arnie took his feeding greedily, gulping and swallowing so well that hardly a drop escaped. Janella stood there wanting to leave, but wanting, too, to take Arnie with her. Obviously Akki was wrong—Toivi would not harm her nephew—but Janella felt uneasy with Arnie outside of her control.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your brother?” Toivi asked.
“Half brother,” Janella said involuntarily.
“But your father’s child, his son.”
“I’m used to not mentioning Arnie. Helen—his mother—doesn’t like me to discuss him. And he’s so deformed—I mean, retarded and all—I didn’t think you’d want to know.”
“Not know about Arnold’s son?” Her aunt had put the empty bottle down and was once again stroking the boy’s head. “My own nephew? You’ll bring his crib in here, of course. There are two of us here—Akki and me—so someone will be with him all the time. You wouldn’t be able to do that.”
“Well, no, but…” Janella faltered, then went on, “…Helen entrusted him to me. I feel responsible.”
“Do you think we would let anything happen to him? Why his tiny life is as important to me as mine.” Toivi’s voice rose.
“It’s not that. But you haven’t been well—I couldn’t ask you to assume an extra burden. He’s fussy sometimes, and…”
“Look at the child now,” Toivi commanded.
Janell
a stared at the sleeping boy. His eyes were closed and he was as relaxed as he could be with such a rigid body.
“You see—he likes me. I don’t mean to hurt you but I’m sure he can sense my acceptance and love. Are you fond of Arnie?”
“He’s my responsibility,” Janella said stubbornly.
“But do you like him?” Toivi persisted.
Janella’s breath came unevenly through her tight throat. Arnie—the baby who really belonged despite his deformities, belonged to Helen, belonged in Helen’s house, pushing Janella out of what little space she had occupied. But she would have come to love him for himself, for being part of her father, too, if Arnie hadn’t been the way he was. He’d pulled Helen’s life all askew, and Janella’s with it. “Don’t talk about Arnie at school. Don’t ask that snoopy little Taylor girl over here again—I caught her in Arnie’s room. No, we can’t go—we have to think of Arnie.” Always in the way. And not right, no way to ever make him right, no use to spend time and money on a vegetable. There was no money left now but Helen had always given the time.
Janella spoke with difficulty past the constriction in her throat. “I’ll have to talk with Lucien about moving Arnie, see what he thinks.”
Toivi raised her eyebrows.
“And there’s Akki—she gave Arnie some medicine last night to stop him crying,” Janella said. “I don’t know what it was but it may have been a narcotic, and I’m sure Arnie shouldn’t have drugs. The doctor who saw him last, a few years back, didn’t prescribe sedatives. I wouldn’t want Akki to do such a thing again.”
“Narcotic? What do you mean?” Aunt Toivi was frowning. She shifted so Arnie’s head slid from her curved arm. His eyelids flickered but he didn’t rouse.
Janella spoke reluctantly, unsure of herself. “I thought maybe Akki gave him a shot of morphine. I saw the hypodermic syringe, and afterwards his eyes…”
Her aunt laughed. “Where would Akki get morphine? Dear child, you’ve been dreaming. I do have a mild sedative for my heart. Likely Akki thought it might soothe Arnie. I agree she shouldn’t have given him someone else’s medicine, but this particular drug won’t harm him. Of course, I’ll see she does nothing of the sort again.”
Janella studied her aunt. Short of snatching Arnie from her she couldn’t do anything now. Surely he’d be okay while she got dressed and saw Lucien.
“I’ll leave him with you while I go to breakfast,” she said.
“Would you ask Akki to hurry? She went to get my tray before you came in, and I’m quite hungry this morning.” Toivi slid her arm under Arnie’s head once again. “This sweet boy is good for me.”
I won’t feel guilty, Janella thought as she went down the stairs after pulling on some clothes. I know Arnie isn’t attractive. He isn’t sweet, either. I may not love him but I’ll do all I can to see he’s all right. Toivi can be as sentimental as she wants about having a nephew. She paused. Am I jealous? she wondered. Why not put the crib in Toivi’s room, let her take care of Arnie? But the idea made her uneasy.
Ruth Barnes was just setting the dining-room table for breakfast. She didn’t raise her eyes when Janella came into the room.
“Is Akki in the kitchen?” Janella asked.
“No,” Ruth said.
“Have you seen her this morning?”
Ruth shrugged. “Might of been her I saw outside when I came up the drive.”
“Outside?”
Ruth grunted and turned her back.
Maybe Akki was after more chips, Janella thought. I could go out and look quickly while I wait for breakfast. I want to talk to her before she sees Toivi, ask her more about what she meant last night. Janella went back into the entry and got her coat.
The day threatened rain, a few warning drops touched her face as she hurried around the house. There was no one by the woodpile, but when she glanced toward the avocado grove she thought she saw a black-robed figure between the trees. She hesitated. It was raining harder. But she took a scarf from her pocket to tie over her hair and followed the path to the grove.
Akki seemed to be crouched on the ground. What was she doing? Janella stepped on a chip as she thought this and then noticed many chips scattered in front of her. Had Akki dropped them?
There was the blue bandana Red had wrapped about the chips before and Akki only a few feet away, not moving, huddled against the ground at the edge of the grove.
Janella’s breath caught in her chest and she felt the pulse pound in her temples. Something was terribly wrong, Akki was sick, had fallen…
Janella knelt beside the old woman and felt for her pulse, laid a hand on the chest to check for respiration. There was no blood visible—she wondered why she’d thought of blood. Akki was an old woman and old women die without blood, without being killed. Why was she thinking of killing?
The pulses were nonexistent, the chest still. Should she start mouth-to-mouth? External cardiac massage? But the old woman was dead. Janella took a deep, quavering breath. It was too late for Akki. A motor caught, roared, and she got to her feet and looked wildly about.
Run, run to the house, run from death! She burst into the entry and stumbled toward the dining room. Lucien met her at the door.
“I saw you running from the window. Is anything wrong?”
She held out her hands to him, unable to speak. Her breath came in inadequate gasps, she couldn’t get enough air to make words come out. His hands seemed as cold as hers, as cold as Akki’s…
“Akki…” she managed to say.
Lucien led her to a chair, made her sit. “Wait a moment, get your breath. Here, I’ll pour you some coffee.”
“No,” she wanted to scream, “death is out there!” But her voice was a croak and the words unintelligible. Lucien held the cup to her lips and she tried to swallow, to force the hot liquid past the obstruction in her throat.
“No,” she said, and the sound came out clearly. “Akki is dead.”
Lucien put the coffee down. She watched him, wondering why he looked different. Not his face. His brows were drawn together, the whole face tight with concern, but the difference was elsewhere.
Janella felt lightheaded, removed from what was happening. Another girl sat in the chair, not Janella Maki. The other girl stared at Lucien and knew something was wrong with him. Yes—his hair was darker. Not the gold of Lucifer, the Morning Star, the Fallen Angel. Lucien’s hair was darker, wetter. Tiny black dots began to gather on the edge of her vision, black dots with sparkling centers, and they danced to either side of her. Sound was coming from somewhere, words were being spoken, but they could hardly be heard over the rushing noise in her ears. Suddenly her head jerked sharply and she could feel the stinging in her cheek.
“Sorry—but you can’t pass out, Janella. Where Is Akki?”
Janella tried to put a hand up but her arm seemed leaden. There was another face beside Lucien’s. Ruth? Another face with the drops of rain glistening wetly on hair. Or was she seeing more of the sparkling dots?
“In the grove,” she said to the faces, “with the chips.” She searched for more faces but could find none. All the dots were running together and she couldn’t see or hear anything more.
Darkness was all around her, but there was a light somewhere up ahead, a tiny pinprick of light. Pinpoint. Like Arnie. But she couldn’t hold on to the thought, couldn’t remember about Arnie. The voice was calling her up toward the light, and she wanted to go because she hated the dark where the shadows were. Black, like the robe Akki wore, and the thought frightened her so she sank deeper into the darkness about her.
“Janny,” the voice said. “I know you hear me, Janny. Let’s play another game—you like games, Janny. Come here to me and we’ll play a game.”
Was she Janny? There was a confusion in her. Was she someone else? But, no, of course she was Janny. And she knew the voice—Aunt Toivi’s voice—and her games were fun sometimes. Maybe this wouldn’t be a scary one—she didn’t like the scary kind.
“Not a scar
y kind,” she said.
“You won’t be scared, Janny,” Aunt Toivi’s voice said. “You’re a big girl. This is a let’s-pretend game.”
Janny nodded.
“Let’s pretend Janny is all grown up and not afraid of anything. One day she goes outside and looks around. It’s raining outside and so Janny gets wet. But she finds something. Now you have to pretend to be grown-up Janny and tell me what you find.”
Obediently Janny went into her mind and tried to see being outside where rain was falling. She’d have to be a lady as big as Aunt Toivi to not be afraid, and so she made herself feel tall and tried to find the rainy place. Trees. There were trees with dark-green leaves and they grew all in rows like a woods. The raindrops fell on her face, and she tried to duck away from them.
She was on a path, a stone path, and there were things scattered around her. “Chips,” she said to Aunt Toivi, and she knew her voice sounded like a grown-up lady’s, and therefore she was playing right. The ground wavered and began to fade, so she looked back at it fast. “Chips like when Daddy cuts wood for the fireplace, and a blue handkerchief with white dots. That’s all.”
“No, there’s more. Janny is a big girl and doesn’t get scared. Tell me what else is there.”
Janny didn’t want to tell her about the other thing because it was black like the shadows.
“Tell Aunt Toivi and I’ll bring your mama to come and kiss you.”
Janny looked for Mama, but she wasn’t there in the rain and she wasn’t anywhere. She began to whimper.
“No,” Aunt Toivi said. “Janny mustn’t cry. Tell me what else is in the rain with the chips and I’ll find your mama for you.”
“It’s black and there’s an old witch inside and she’s dead because they killed her,” Janny said all in a rush. “Where’s Mama?”
“Who killed her?” Aunt Toivi’s voice sounded strange. “Who killed the—the old witch?” Was Aunt Toivi crying?
Janny tried to see more, but the shadows were coming from between the trees and she was afraid. She tried to hurry away to another place but one of them followed her, and she fled, crying along unfamiliar pathways until she no longer heard Aunt Toivi’s voice at all.
