Silk and Stone
Page 8
The lady looked at Mother. Mother nodded. “Jake won’t let her out of his sight. And if he did, he’d find her.”
Taking that as permission, Jake ran to the big car, slowed to a dignified walk, and circled it carefully, his eyes riveted to the passenger window.
So this was Samantha “No-Talking” Ryder. She was pretty small, and very still, with her little hands clutching the window’s edge and her big blue eyes staring right back at him without blinking.
“My name’s Jake,” he offered. Her mouth crooked up at one corner. “Want to see a cow?” he added.
She didn’t say a word. He tugged the door open with both hands and gave her a good look-see. Her ruffled white collar was part of a white shirt, and she wore pink shorts with white sandals. Sunshine slid back and forth across her pulled-up hair, but even her ponytail didn’t move.
He’d never seen a kid so gold and pink and, of course, quiet. “Well?” he said.
She hopped out and stood with both feet planted apart, then watched him like a hawk while he shut the door. He held out a hand, tanned and big compared to hers. She looked up at him as if he were some kind of jigsaw puzzle she hadn’t quite put together yet. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked slyly.
Her eyes crinkled, and she smiled. She closed her hand slowly around his, each small finger curling tight. Jake knew what to expect when he touched people—a tingle of feelings that weren’t his but were his, like smoke creeping into his thoughts, so that he suddenly knew things he hadn’t planned to know, but most of the time the smoke faded before he could decide what it meant.
But not this time. He judged her for a thinker—she made up her mind, then she wouldn’t let go. Strangely enough, that made him not want to let go either. We’ve been together as long as I can remember, and for as far as I can see.
Now, that didn’t make sense, and it startled him so much he pushed the thought and the smoke away.
He tied Blossom to an iron ring in the milking stall, proud to demonstrate his fearless command over a huge animal who could have stomped anyone to pieces if she weren’t too fat to move that fast. Samantha watched from a few feet away, and he hoped she was impressed. “C’mere,” he said, crooking his finger. She sidled closer to Blossom’s orange and white side. Jake bent down and wrapped a hand around one of Blossom’s dangling pink teats. “Want to see where milk comes from?”
Samantha squatted and stared at the teat. Jake squeezed expertly, and a stream of milk shot out. It hit her in the mouth. She bolted up. Her eyes widened. She wiped her chin and made a face. Jake bent his head to Blossom’s side and chortled loudly. The next thing he knew, Samantha was behind Blossom, reaching for the long switch of white hair at the end of her tail. Her mouth set in a firm line, she wound her small fingers into the thick hair and began braiding it.
Jake watched in awed silence. When she finished, she held the end of the braid and looked up at him with a satisfied nod. He nodded back. “All she needs is a ribbon, and she can go to a party.” He found a piece of baling twine among the matted straw of the stall’s dirt floor, and handed it to her gallantly.
She tied a bow around the end of Blossom’s tail, then stood back, eyeing her work. Jake sat down in the straw and studied her quietly. “You’re not putting any bows on me,” he announced.
She cocked her head back and studied him the way she’d been studying Blossom’s tail. Like she would fix him up, too, one of these days.
If anything could make a person talk, being dunked in the cold water of the Saukee would do it. Jake watched anxiously from a knoll under a sassafras tree, his knees drawn up and arms wrapped tightly around them. Samantha looked over Mrs. Big Stick’s shoulder at him, her mouth clamped shut. She didn’t look scared, she looked mad, as if he should have warned her about this.
Her mother stood on the bank beside his mother, holding all of Samantha’s clothes and her sandals. Mrs. Big Stick, her jeans rolled up to her fat brown knees, stood in a dark pool, where the river barely moved. She had her head thrown back, and she’d been talking to the wind for a long time. Jake knew enough Cherokee to pick out a sentence here and there. She was telling the spirits to fix Samantha’s voice, ordering them around as if she might come looking for them with a baseball bat if they didn’t do it.
Suddenly she stopped, nodded so hard that her long braid of gray-black hair bounced over her shoulder, then bent down and shoved Samantha underwater.
Jake grimaced. He knew what going to water was about. It cleaned you outside and inside, Granny had said. It made you think, and feel new all over, and remember how to breathe. All the old folks at Cawatie did it every morning, even if they could only get to a little pee-trickle of branch water outside their cabins and house trailers. He and Ellie had gone with Granny to a spring in the hollow every day, and boy, you could breathe like nobody’s business after sitting in that spring in the wintertime.
When Samantha came up, she took a big gulp of air and latched on to Mrs. Big Stick’s braid with both hands. Jake covered his mouth to hide a laugh. She wasn’t going under again without taking Mrs. Big Stick with her.
Mrs. Big Stick grunted and carried her back to the bank. “She’s done.” Jake looked away politely as the medicine woman handed poor Samantha, who still looked mad, to her mother. Naked girls of all sizes were interesting to study, and he didn’t get that many chances, but Samantha was special. He wouldn’t forget the strange idea that had come to him when she took his hand; maybe there’d be chances to see her nekkid in the future.
He glanced over after her mother scrubbed her dry with a towel and put on her clothes. While her mother combed her wet hair back, Samantha stared straight at him, eyes narrowed, her hands knotted in little fists by her shorts.
“She’ll talk,” Mrs. Big Stick announced. “Sooner or later.”
“Sooner, I hope,” Mrs. Ryder said. “Thank you for coming.”
“Faith is a powerful tool,” Mrs. Big Stick told her. “If you believe in something strong enough, it will happen.” She looked at Mother solemnly. “I believe I’ll have that drink now.”
“One bourbon on ice, coming up,” Mother said. “We’ll sit on the porch.”
“Hugh doesn’t want me in the house. I know it.”
Mother’s face turned red. She didn’t answer, and walked up the path to the house with her head bent. Jake had to know the truth. He walked over and halted in front of Mrs. Big Stick as she rolled her jeans legs down. Her eyes were squinty and brown as chocolate, and when she met his gaze, they nearly disappeared between her cheekbones and eyebrows. “Are you keeping the faith for your granny, Mr. Jake?”
“Yes, ma’am. But I haven’t heard from her yet. She said she’d let Ellie and me know she’s still listening.”
“She might not talk in a regular voice. It’s up to you to know what she means.”
“But how will I figure that out?”
Mrs. Big Stick bent close to him and whispered in his ear, “When you use the gift God gave you, just like he gave it to Granny, and it does something good for other people, that’ll be your granny talking to you.”
She knew. Mrs. Big Stick knew about their extra parts. Jake laid a trembling hand on one of the big brown forearms beneath her rolled-up shirtsleeves. Sad. Mrs. Big Stick felt so sad when she talked about Granny. She missed her as much as he and Ellie did. “You didn’t make Granny stop taking her pills, I bet.”
Mrs. Big Stick blinked. He could see her eyes again. “No, but I didn’t fuss at her when she threw them away.”
“Why?” he asked, breathless.
“Because she said they made her head feel too thick. She couldn’t find things anymore. And that made her unhappy. How would you like it if you took a pill that made that part of you go to sleep?”
He shot a gaze at Samantha, who was still having her hair combed, and still glaring at him. To never be able to find someone like her again? He didn’t sense that she could find things the way he and Ellie could. He couldn’t decide what was
extra about her, but someday he’d figure that out, and it would be important. “I’d feel pretty empty.”
“Then that’s how your granny felt. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. There’s a lot of evil around here, and now that your granny’s busy with other things, you and Ellie come to me if you’ve got worries about it.”
“Okay.”
Mrs. Big Stick straightened up. “Now, why don’t you take your little chick down to the spring and tell her how Granny used to dunk you and Ellie when you were her size? Even if she’s too young to know her fanny from a hole in the ground, you might coax that thundercloud off her face.” Mrs. Big Stick eyed the two of them, then turned to Mrs. Ryder. “Your baby girl looks like she’s had a bone to pick with the world since the day she was born.”
Mrs. Ryder got a funny look on her face. Jake said, “I won’t let her fall in, ma’am. It’s only a foot deep, anyhow.”
“All right.”
He felt a punch on his arm. Samantha stood beside him, mouth flat, as if daring him to explain what in the world the grown-ups had done to her. Jake snagged her fist and pulled her along behind him. Born mad and still fighting, he thought. That’s why she won’t talk.
Stunned by this sudden knowledge, and wondering if it was just a lucky guess, he practically dragged her in his hurry to reach the spring, which was down another path through a tall stand of poplars. She wound her hand in his and ran to keep up with him.
When they entered the shady hollow, where water bubbled in a clear hole as wide as he was tall, he sat down among half-curled ferns and tugged at her hand. She wouldn’t budge. Jake stared at her firmly. “I know why you won’t talk. Once you make up your mind, you don’t let go. You’re just like an old bottle with a stopper in it. Just need to have your plug pulled.”
When she didn’t make even a squeak in return, he dropped her hand and folded his arms on his crossed legs. He leaned over the spring’s smooth surface, studying their reflections—a frowning boy with short black hair and a wobbly front tooth that was being pushed out of line by the new one growing in behind it, and a red-faced little girl with yellow hair sprouting fuzzy, dry tufts around her face. She was less than half his age and size; he was no baby-sitter.
“I got more important things to do than try to talk sense to a baby,” he told her. “You don’t even know what taxes are. Taxes are the money people have to pay to keep the sheriff from taking their homes away.” He waved an arm. “And this place costs a lot of taxes. My granny could find garnets and topazes and sapphires—Granny could even find little-bitty rubies sometimes, and those things are worth a lot of taxes. She died—she went away, okay? So now me and Ellie have to find those rocks to pay taxes. Ellie’s not nearly as good at it as I am, but I don’t know if I can find things without Granny’s help. She said she’d still talk to us, but I can’t hear a peep.”
All the misery of the past few weeks welled up inside him, and his eyes burned. He tried to squeeze the tears back, but one slithered down his cheek. “Granny won’t talk, and neither will you. Damn.”
Ashamed of crying in front of her—bejeezus, it was bad enough to cry in front of a girl at all, much less this tough little critter—Jake turned his head away and scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.
Suddenly he felt her small, soft hands on his head. She patted his hair. He shot a stern, embarrassed look at her, but she huddled against his side, then put her arms around his neck. Tears puddled in her eyes. She took a huge breath, then let it rattle out.
“Jake, don’t cry,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to you.”
Her words were clear as a bell, not like baby talk. It took several seconds for him to believe he’d really heard her. But then he realized what had happened. He had brought Samantha to Granny’s spring, and Granny had worked a miracle. Granny was listening, and just like Mrs. Big Stick said, she had found a special way to let him know it.
Frannie ran across the back lawn at Highview, leaving the car door open, carrying Samantha in her arms and laughing. Alexandra had bought a pony for Tim, and she was leading it around, Tim clinging to the pommel of its miniature English saddle for dear life, and crying. William stood on the edge of a stone patio nearby, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets and his expression dark.
Alexandra grabbed the pony’s bridle and brought it to a stop. Tim clutched its mane and whimpered. “Where have you been?” Alexandra called.
“She talked.” Frannie kissed Samantha’s cheek and gazed down at her happily. Samantha sighed and patted Frannie’s shoulder. “I took her to see the Raincrows, and they called a medicine woman from Cawatie, and not more than ten minutes after she performed a healing ceremony on Samantha, Samantha started talking to Sarah’s son. Dear Lord, Alex, you should have been there! They came walking up from the spring, and she was jabbering to him as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. I nearly fell down getting to her, and when I hugged her, she said, “Jake pulled my plug, Mommy. Mommy. She called me Mommy.”
Alexandra’s face turned white. “You took my niece to visit people who’ve treated me like dirt. You relied on them?”
“It’s good for us all,” Frannie answered, too overjoyed to care about her sister’s feuds. William sprang off the patio with clumsy enthusiasm and, giving Alexandra a thin smile, put his arm around Frannie’s shoulders. “That’s fantastic,” he said. His face was wistful. “I wish it were so easy for me to visit my sister and her family.”
“It can be, William. Anything’s possible. I do believe in miracles!”
“No, I—” His eyes were shadowed, but he smiled sadly at Samantha. “So Jake ‘pulled your plug,’ did he? I’ve always thought that boy had a special way about him. Can you say something for your Uncle Will, Sammie?”
Her brow furrowed. “Tim tried to push me down the stairs.”
William’s smile faded. Frannie jostled Samantha and said quickly, “I’m sure he was just playing, sweetie.”
“I want to go home. Let’s take Jake with us.”
“We are going home, sweetie. We’re going home right away. What will you say to your daddy when you see him?”
“Hi, Sarge, I missed you. Can Jake live with us?”
Frannie laughed and looked at Alexandra in dazed delight. “From silence to full-blown sentences in one fell swoop. She’s a genius. Alex, I know you’re happy for me.”
“Of course I’m thrilled that Sammie’s talking. But I’m disappointed by the way you went behind my back.”
“I had to try everything I could think of. I knew you’d think I was silly to take Sammie to see an Indian medicine woman.”
“God bless Sarah Raincrow and her pack of Indians.” Alexandra’s voice was flat. She stared at William. “Sarah wouldn’t spit in our direction if we were on fire, but she’ll meddle in my sister’s life out of pure spite.”
“Alex, I went to her,” Frannie said. “What difference does it make? She helped me. Sammie is talking. Aren’t you happy for me at all?”
“I … yes. Of course.” Alexandra held out her hands. “But I was so hoping for some more time with you and Sammie. I love having a little girl around here. Can’t you stay? What if Sammie still needs therapy?”
“Therapy? She’s ready to deliver the State of the Union address.”
Alexandra stroked a trembling hand over Samantha’s hair and smiled at her with painful appreciation. “Wouldn’t you like to stay at Aunt Alex’s house a while longer? I’d teach you to ride Tim’s pony, and I’d teach you to swim in the pool at the country club, and take you to meet a lot of nice little girls who don’t speak German.”
“We don’t need a little girl around here,” Tim said, sniffling. “Mom, you’ve got me. You don’t need her.”
“Be quiet, son. You know better than to interrupt me. Sammie, don’t you like it here? Wouldn’t you like to visit with me?”
Samantha watched her without blinking. “Jake says you’re a witch.”
“Sarah has even coaxed her children to hate me.” Alexandra turned away, her face strained and eyes gleaming with tears. “You see, William? See what’s happened? My own niece is afraid of me because of something Sarah’s son planted in her mind.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” Samantha added, speaking in her astonishingly mature way. “I been dunked in the river. I got my plug pulled. I got Jake. He won’t let a witch eat me.”
“Oh, God.” Alexandra pressed her hands to her temple and walked into the house. Moving leadenly, William went to the pony and lifted Tim off. “I’m happy for you,” he told Frannie, but his voice was hollow. “I’ll call for your plane tickets. You need to go on home with Sammie. Go back to your husband. Alexandra will be all right.”
Frannie bowed her head against Samantha’s and exhaled wearily. “You can talk,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters.”
Samantha stared at Tim, who wavered beside the pony, his face screwed into a knot of fury as he looked back at her. “I hate you,” he said loudly.
And before William could catch him, he turned and ran to the house.
After he collected them at the airport, Carl sat in the driver’s seat of their VW with Samantha standing on his lap. Tears ran down his face. She patted his cheek gently. “Don’t cry, Daddy.”
Carl sighed heavily. “Why wouldn’t you talk to us before, honey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why’d you talk to Mrs. Raincrow’s little boy?”
“Jake,” Frannie whispered.
“Why’d you talk to Jake, honey?”
“He missed his grandma. She wouldn’t talk to him, so I did.” Carl gave Frannie a puzzled look, but she shook her head. “Don’t try to figure it out. I can’t. She’s crazy about Jake. I had a real problem calming her down after I explained that Jake couldn’t come to Germany with us. I was afraid she’d clam up again. But I took her to see him right before we left, and he promised her they’d see each other again. It was sweet, but sort of eerie. Like they had some sort of secret bond. At any rate, it satisfied her.”