SelfSame

by Conway, Melissa

  She laughed through her tears. “Don’t be. You did nothing wrong. You have been nothing but a gentleman and – and my hero.”

  He pulled her into his arms, cradling her until her muffled sobs slowly subsided. She closed her eyes and listened to his breathing, his heart beating steadily under her ear. She felt the stirrings of a longing so intense she wondered if it alone had the power to strike her dead. At that moment, she would have traded anything to remain in his arms forever. But his destiny was entwined with her little sister, a girl that Enid had hardly gotten to know.

  “I have a sister in the village. Her name is Spotted Fawn. Will you promise to look after her?”

  He leaned back and made a face at her that clearly said, “Why?” His eyes were red-rimmed as if he’d been crying, too. She realized now why his eyes reminded her so much of Ben. They were the one feature that persisted through the generations.

  She knew, somehow, that now was the time to say goodbye.

  “Listen to me. You need to remember everything I’ve said and keep this list safe. But most importantly, remember that what happens is not your fault, and it must happen. Your entire family, everyone who comes from you hereafter, everyone whom you will love, depend upon what happens. Their lives depend upon it. Do you understand?”

  He shook his head no and took up the charcoal and paper again. He scrawled, “What happens?”

  In an echo of the words Ben whispered to Sorcha, she said, “I can’t tell you.”

  He tapped the words “What happens?” with the charcoal insistently.

  She slipped from his arms. “Always remember that I loved you.”

  Before he could stop her, she lurched away, under the branches and out of the thicket. In retrospect, it occurred to her that her headlong flight may have been witnessed by someone, leading them back to Joseph. However he was found, it happened much more quickly than she expected. No sooner had she gotten back to the longhouse and thrown herself upon her sleeping furs than a disturbance outside prompted her to get back up again.

  It was chaos outside. People poured from the longhouses toward the central clearing, where shouting and the high-pitched, repetitive shrieks of warriors could be heard. Enid’s heart dropped into her stomach.

  The time had come.

  She ran, pushing past everyone in her way. Someone fired a musket and she feared she was too late until another shot rang out, fired into the air by a brave near the middle of the square. She shoved and was shoved back as everyone tried to get a closer look. Enid couldn’t understand what they were saying, but she didn’t need to. They’d found him.

  Joseph was on his knees, arms and legs bound and no fewer than three musket barrels resting against his head, which was bloody from whatever beating he’d taken resisting those who’d captured him. Still, he held his head high in defiance. In the dirt nearby was the blanket she’d made him from her skirt. Bluebird had finagled a front-row spot to the spectacle. Enid saw her shouting and shaking her fists at Joseph with the best of them; that is, until her eyes lit upon the blanket. She glanced quickly around before picking it up, and even from where Enid stood on the other side of the clearing, she saw Bluebird’s face go slack in shock. From within the blanket, two pieces of paper drifted on the early afternoon breeze. Enid pressed forward against the crowd, but saw that Bluebird caught the pages one by one and clasped them to her breast.

  Her mother looked up and met Enid’s eyes.

  The village elders arrived in all their importance, followed by James Butler in his grotesque mask. He shouted something and the crowd began to quiet.

  Enid knew this was her cue, the moment when she would offer her life for Joseph’s, but she was frozen to the spot, overcome by a sharp flood of adrenaline that made her violently nauseous. It was only the prospect of watching Joseph die and knowing his death meant there would be no Luanne, no Skip, Sarge or Harry – no Ben to go back to if Sorcha survived – that gave her the strength to move. She pinched the person in front of her and stamped on the next woman’s toe, fighting her way to the front where Joseph waited on his fate.

  James Butler began to speak in his native tongue. Enid did not have to understand him to know he was accusing Joseph of being a spy and passing judgment upon him. From Sorcha’s research, she also knew he was in danger of a quick execution, so she had to act now.

  She threw her arms in the air and screamed, a loud, long, warbling screech that ended in wild laughter. James Butler’s eyes behind his mask looked astonished. Several braves turned their muskets on her. The crowd was already whipped into a frenzy and it was this mob mentality – and the deeply ingrained superstition of the tribe – that she played upon now.

  There were English-speakers among those present, and she raised her voice so they could hear. “I am the witch James Butler brought to live among you. It was not he who saved the drowned child, but I.” Murmured voices translated to those who didn’t understand.

  She pointed to James Butler. “Ask him! Ask him if I am a witch! Ask him if I have two spirits! James Butler brought me here to learn from me, but he erred most grievously. For I am a child of two dark spirits.”

  She pointed to Joseph, “I love this man and ensorcelled him to return my love. He is innocent.”

  She turned to James Butler. “As you say, medicine man, he was my tool. The only way to release him from my power is to kill me, and after I am dead, if you harm him, my spirits will awaken all of your dead and their spirits will bedevil this tribe forever.”

  She raised her arms above her head again and shouted, “This man must be released. He must be honored from this day forth and adopted into this tribe.”

  Enid was no actress, but even she was impressed by her words. She’d composed them while lying in Ben’s arms, and counted on two things. One, that the Haudenosaunee were a highly spiritual people. Cursing them with retribution from her malicious spirits would be a powerful deterrent. The second thing, and Enid’s ace in the hole, was that James Butler would now be aware of her as a threat to his authority. To neutralize her, he would take her up on the offer of an exchange: a life for a life. She didn’t know this was how Joseph’s life had been spared, but since he had lived on to write the will and witness the birth of the first Benjamin, it had, undeniably, happened.

  James Butler had had enough of being upstaged. He said, “You would give your life for this man?”

  Enid’s chin quivered, but she replied, “You forget, I know what the future holds. This man must not die. You would do well to remember that.”

  It was a desperate bluff. Whether Joseph lived or died had no bearing on the future of the tribe and no benefit to James Butler himself. But she must have convinced him, because he said loudly, “So be it!”

  Several warriors moved toward her, but she cried, “Wait! Please, Medicine Man, have compassion and let me release him from the curse I placed upon him, else he continue to love me after I am gone.”

  Joseph was struggling violently against his bonds. James Butler hesitated, but then his mask dipped in acknowledgement and she ran forward and dropped to her knees, throwing her arms around Joseph. He was making little mewling sounds that tore her heart out. She pressed her mouth to his ear. “I love you, I love you, never forget. But if you die now, there will be no Ben. I couldn’t bear to be alone in both worlds.”

  His eyes, his eyes…she clung to the memory of his eyes as they dragged her away. Distantly, like a faint reminder of happier days long gone by, she heard her mother calling to her. “E-ee! Nooo!”

  All day yesterday, Sorcha had tried not to envision how they would do it. A quick, painless death would be best, of course, but it seemed they had something different in mind. She didn’t fight as they bound her legs and carried her to the river. They dumped her unceremoniously into a canoe and two braves rowed her to the middle. The crowd lined the shore and she heard them cheer as she was tipped into the frigid water with hardly a splash.

  The painful shock of the cold water paralyzed he
r. Her mother’s doeskin dress instantly became sodden and weighed her down. She began to sink. With every ounce of strength within her, she fought the urge to swim upwards. She could do it, she knew she could, even with her ankles bound, but she stared above her at the flickering light of her last day and saw the shadow of the canoe lurking. Surely they would hit her with the hovering paddles if she tried to save herself. The best thing would be to accept it, a prospect that was harder and harder to contemplate as the seconds ticked by and her brain demanded that the depleted air in her lungs be released.

  She thought of her father. Would he ever learn of her demise? She thought of Elizabeth and hoped, if there was a heaven, that she was about to see her again.

  She felt her body drifting with the swift current. The braves dipped the oars into the water and the canoe began to recede from her vision as they rowed back to shore. Frantically, she tried to swim upward then, but her lungs could take no more. Instinctively, she released a stream of bubbles and inhaled. The agony of the cold water suffusing her lungs was too much. Her back arched and she thrashed futilely as the water suffocated her. Blessed unconsciousness came soon after; her last thought a despairing plea to God or the Creator that the other half of her soul should survive.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sorcha

  She was choking.

  Sorcha arched her back, gagging and struggling against the ropes that bound her.

  “Sorch!” An urgent voice pulled her from the void where she fought for her life. She gasped and sat up abruptly, crying out, “Enid!”

  The ropes were Ben’s arms. She turned and clung to him, sucking in air and crying desperately. He held her close, murmuring, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  A bright light appeared suddenly and she heard her mother say, “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” The concerned words were immediately followed by her father’s thundering, “What the hell’s going on here? And why is that boy in your bed?”

  Her dad didn’t wait for anyone to answer. He grabbed the front of Ben’s shirt and hauled him across Sorcha’s body. Ben didn’t resist, but Sorcha wouldn’t let go of his arm, “No, Daddy, leave him alone!”

  Ben tumbled out of the bed and sprawled on the floor, arm bent back at an awkward angle in Sorcha’s determined grip.

  “Let go of him, Honey,” her mother said, trying to pry Sorcha’s fingers open. “You’re hysterical.”

  Grammy Fay appeared in the doorway. She pinched her lower lip and let loose with one of her infamous piercing whistles. Sorcha let go of Ben’s arm and he stood, holding his hands out in front of him to try to calm her dad down. “Nothing happened.”

  “Look at him, Michael,” Fay said. “He’s fully dressed. They both are.”

  “I don’t care if they’re both wearing suits of armor,” Michael Sloane responded angrily. “Get out!”

  Ben looked at Sorcha, who said woodenly, “She’s dead.”

  “Who’s dead?” Amelia Sloane asked.

  Sorcha’s gaze slid to her grandmother’s face. “Enid.”

  Fay looked horrified. She shook her head and reached for the clock on the bedside table. “Oh, my God. It’s two o’clock in the morning. You’re awake.”

  Her mother and father exchanged a look. It was the first time in Sorcha’s life that she’d ever woken before morning.

  “Well, it’s a miracle, but it’s beside the point.” Her father poked a finger in Ben’s chest. “You. Go. Now.”

  Fay’s discerning eyes darted between Ben and Sorcha. She put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and said kindly, “I’ll take care of her.”

  Ben nodded, grabbed his jacket and shoes, gave Sorcha one last anguished look and left.

  “We’ll discuss this in the morning, young lady,” her father said.

  At the door, her mother produced a tight-lipped smile bereft of warmth. “And prepare yourself for some serious punishment.”

  Fay ushered her daughter-in-law out and shut the door. Sorcha lay down and immediately began crying again. Fay sat on the edge of the bed and patted her on the back. Sorcha was afraid to fall back asleep; afraid she’d go back to the cold, soundless depths of the river. But when she did drift off, her slumber was deep and dreamless.

  Chapter Twenty

  Was that music? Sorcha turned her head on the pillow and tried to open her eyes. Her swollen lids resisted, so she was only able to squint at the bright LED display of her alarm clock. The clock had been on the bedside table for as long as she could remember, but the alarm had never been set; there was no reason for it since it wouldn’t wake her anyway.

  But now it had.

  Fay must have set it, must have realized Sorcha would sleep normally because Enid was…gone.

  Sorcha’s heart squeezed in her chest. Her sore eyes began to burn with the effort to produce still more tears.

  She was supposed to get up now and go to school, but how could she act like nothing was wrong? She’d been given one day to grieve for Elizabeth – how many days did it take to get over losing half of yourself?

  Enid’s life had been filled with hardship and frustration. She’d always compared her lot to Sorcha’s and found it wanting. But despite the quality of her existence, she’d still found small joys to cling to. Now even those were gone.

  Sorcha sat up and spoke to the empty room. “How many times did you wish you didn’t have to live her life?”

  She threw the covers off. “Well, guess what, Sorcha? You got your wish.”

  She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. “And you’re still here, which is better than never waking up again, right?”

  She wanted to see Ben. Needed to see him. Needed to look into his eyes and find Joseph there. That was why she forced herself to get up and get ready for the day.

  Her parents had left a note on the refrigerator grounding her for a month. It was an apt punishment, from their perspective. They were clueless to the real reason Ben had been with her last night. But Fay knew.

  Her grandmother came into the kitchen while Sorcha was eating a bowl of cereal. The bags under her eyes were deeper and darker this morning and Sorcha felt guilty for causing it.

  Fay put a hand on Sorcha’s head. “How are you, Sweetling?”

  “Alive.” She fought to suppress a vivid memory of the river.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened? Because I’d really like to know.”

  Sorcha pushed her chair back. “I will. I promise. But right now, I need to get going.”

  She bundled up and grabbed her backpack. On the porch, Fay’s hanging witch startled her by cackling maniacally. It reminded her of Enid’s attempt at convincing the Haudenosaunee that she was a crazy witch. It had worked, hadn’t it?

  She stepped over the roots of the old oak tree, thinking about how Enid had seen the very same tree every day as a sapling. The exhaust from Paula’s car drifted through the yard like a ghostly thing.

  Luanne and Ben were inside. Sorcha went right into Ben’s arms, and to her surprise, Luanne, too, leaned over the seats to join the hug.

  “Thank you,” Luanne said fervently, rocking her body back and forth. “Thank you.”

  She sat back and said, “Tell us.”

  Paula began to drive as Sorcha haltingly told them what had happened. In the middle of the narrative, Luanne interrupted her. “We always wondered what the words ‘Are you the mother of my son?’ on the back of Enid’s list meant.”

  “He was so confused and hurt,” Sorcha said.

  Ben squeezed her hand. “He lived and you saved us all.”

  She nodded and rested her forehead on his shoulder.

  When they got to the bus stop, Luanne leaned in. For the first time, she was smiling. “We have a meeting this afternoon. Will you come?”

  “I’m grounded. It seems my parents don’t approve of me having sleep-overs with boys.”

  Paula cleared her throat. “What can they do if my car breaks down and you have to walk home? It’s Wednesday; Fay’ll be in Pou
ghkeepsie, right?”

  For the first time, Sorcha noticed Paula had false eyelashes on. “What are you wearing?”

  Paula turned her torso and opened her coat to reveal a sparkly black-and-orange-striped t-shirt. “It’s Halloween.”

  “Is it? I’m sorry, I forgot.” Every year she and Paula dressed up for school.

  “No worries. None whatsoever,” Paula replied.

  “See you later, then,” Luanne said as if everything were settled. She walked away with a bounce in her step.

  When they got to school, Sorcha found she didn’t want to leave Ben to attend class. She stood next to her locker in the circle of his arms while her fellow students, some costumed, some not, went by.

  “You’re stronger than you think you are,” Ben said. “Carpe diem, okay?”

  She nodded, and they parted to go to their respective classes. After History, in the corridor outside her second period class, she saw John. He made a beeline for her and blocked her way.

  “Shouldn’t you be in jail or something?” she asked.

  “For what? Just because I admitted to you privately that it was me who shot at you doesn’t mean I’m going to confess.”

  “Whatever, John. Get out of my way.”

  “Sure, but first, did Ben ever mention the trust?”

  It was clear he was trying to stir up trouble again, but he seemed determined to prevent her from getting to class until she listened, so she snapped, “No. Spit it out.”

  John shrugged. “You ever wonder why my family was so willing to believe you had two souls just because some crusty old ancestor claimed it was true? It’s because Enid’s investment advice was never wrong. The WPS made a mint, but the family members couldn’t touch any of it. The first Benjamin created a trust that prevented us from profiting from Enid’s predictions – at least until she died. Wanna guess how much money Ben’s about to get for making sure Enid sacrificed herself?”

  Even if her throat hadn’t closed up in shock and dismay, Sorcha wouldn’t have given John the satisfaction of a response. She pushed past him and went to class, sitting in her seat and opening her book like an automaton. It never occurred to her that John’s words weren’t true, since they made complete and total sense. It had nagged and nagged at her that these people were such ardent believers of something that was not just improbable, but preposterous, really. Her own parents had not believed her, so why would an entire family devote themselves to the legend of her for two hundred years?