Henry helps him, holding my arms down on the bed.
Lu cries, “Reverend, where’s Effie?”
“She went to check on Mr. Dickinson.” Reverend Preston’s hands are on my thigh and hip, pressing me to the mattress. Only Stonefield has ever touched me in those private places.
“Get off me!” I kick my legs and twist away from him.
When Lu finishes tying the binds, she backs away from the bed, her eyes wide. I glare at her. I want to shake her so hard that all the little pieces of her heart break and jumble together like mine.
I croak, “‘You starvelling, you eel-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish … you vile standing tuck!’” I spit at her.
Reverend Preston licks his lips and stares into my eyes, searching. “In the name of Jesus Christ, demon, who are you?”
No matter how clear and earnest Reverend Preston’s eyes are, they don’t see me. They’re looking right into me, but they’re searching for someone else.
A lump swells in my throat. “‘Sanguine coward, thou bed-presser, thou horseback-breaker, thou huge hill of flesh!’” A deep sob rises and heaves against my ribs, wanting release.
“In the name of Jesus, I demand to know whose words these are.”
My sob bursts out as a laugh. A witch’s laugh. “Shakespeare’s.”
Reverend Preston’s triumphant voice rolls like thunder through the room. “Shakespeare, you foul spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ, I bind you.”
Lord.
Henry glances from me to the preacher and back, not knowing what the Hell to think.
My arms and legs are weak from struggling. I can’t fight anymore. I want to be free of them all. I want to go home to the hollow. I want to feel the wind on my face, and the grass under my feet. I want to sink into the earth like Ophelia until my body turns into water, moss, and stone.
Reverend Preston presses his palm against my forehead. “Shakespeare, I command you in the name of Jesus Christ to leave this girl.” He pushes down hard. “Out, demon!”
I’m too tired to fight him anymore. I don’t care what Henry or the preacher do or think. I let myself go limp. My body shudders as I release the tension in my muscles.
The room turns quiet as Mother’s grave.
When Reverend Preston lifts his hand from me, my head feels light, like I might float up to the ceiling. But my body’s bound to the bed.
I turn my face to the wall so they can’t see my tears. I’m racked with pain, but not from the throat sickness and the bindings around my wrists. They think they’ve pried the wicked parts of me loose and forced them from me. But all my parts are still here. My body shakes and my veins throb from the effort of keeping myself intact. I’m still me.
19
Lu’s quiet as she sets a cup of water on the bedside table. It’s been almost two weeks since she tied me to the bedposts and she hasn’t spoken a word to me since. For Lu, that’s rare as snake feathers. I’m keeping just as mum. I never speak when anyone’s in the room, even if it’s Effie. It’s partly because my sore throat’s full of knives and hurts thousands more than any of my other throat sicknesses, but partly because I don’t want to give them any reason to think that the demon changed its mind and moved back into my body.
I want to go home and see Papa, but it’s not truly home anymore with Dora living there. And I can’t bear it with Stonefield gone.
Lu adds a log to the fire. The days have an autumn chill to them now that seems to have settled into my bones. What I wouldn’t give for a pipe to smoke. Lord, how I hate Lu. I turn to look as she sweeps the hearth, and glare at her back as I remember how she told people about me and Stonefield and turned them against us in the church.
It’s like she can feel the hot hate on her back, because she turns around all of a sudden. She sees the look on my face and her eyes grow wide. I keep staring at her so she’ll say something. But she doesn’t say a thing.
Damn, I want to yell at her so bad. I want to demand that she tell why she did such a hateful thing, but I can’t speak. I slide the covers off and sit up. It’s hard to do—my arms feel like they’ve never been used before and my head’s full of rocks. The floorboards are cold. It takes a moment for me to make my legs work, but I rise and step to the window. Mist coats the inside of the panes. I slide my finger down the cool wet glass, speaking my angry question to Lu without using my voice.
Why?
The letters are dark against the mist. Droplets of water trickle from them like tears.
Lu comes closer to read my writing. “Why has this happened? It wasn’t your fault.” She brushes the dirt from the logs off her skirt. “Your demon made you do it.”
All the anger I have for her grows thousands heavier and I write, quick and mad, on the window.
No demon! Just me.
The line on her forehead grows deeper. Her mouth hardens into a frown. “If it wasn’t the Devil making you so wicked, then what in Heaven’s name is wrong with you, Catrina Dickinson?”
Fuming, I sweep my hand across the words and fling the water from my fingers at Lu.
She flinches and backs away from me. “Why are you so bad, Catrina?” She glances at the rag basket by the fireplace where Effie stuffed the remnants of the nightdress. “That was my mama’s nightdress you tore up.” Her eyes are wet.
Even if I had a voice, I wouldn’t know what to say to that.
“When Effie told me to get you something clean to wear, I thought of it right away and ran to get it out of my trunk. When I put it on you, Effie said you looked comfortable. I said you looked pretty as a picture, when you weren’t awake causing trouble.”
I wonder if she’s making a joke, but she doesn’t smile. Is she trying to make up with me? It doesn’t sound like an apology.
“When I was little, I wore it wrapped around my shoulders like a shawl or wound it around my hair the way Papa says the women in the Congo wear their headdresses. At night, I used to lay it over me like a blanket when I went to sleep. The sleeves covered my arms, and the skirt covered my feet.”
I stare at a knot in the floorboards that looks like an accusing eye staring back at me. But I should be staring at Lu for how she treated me and Stonefield. I didn’t know it was her mama’s nightdress.
“The first time you took it off, when you ran out into the rain in your unmentionables, just one button was lost, and I fixed it right away so you could wear it again, but the last time—” A tight line forms across her forehead.
The last time, I tore her mama’s nightdress into pieces. I remember her wide eyes and the insults that I hurled at her that night when I wished I could break her heart like mine.
She spins away to leave, her skirts swishing, and almost runs into Reverend Preston as he walks through the door.
“Pardon me, Miss Lu.” His eyes widen when he sees me shivering by the window. “Miss Lu, is there something wrong?”
Lu glances at the window where I wiped my angry words away. “Well, I—” She turns to Reverend Preston, blinking. “I don’t rightly know. I was surprised as you are to see her get out of bed.”
“The Lord has wrought a wondrous change in her.” He smiles at me. “But complete healing of the body and soul will take time.”
Lu doesn’t meet my eyes, but nods at Reverend Preston before walking out of the room.
“I think you should lie back down.” He puts his arm around me to lead me to the bed, pulls the chair closer, and sits down. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Miss Catrina. I’ve been looking forward to the day when you were well enough to endure some company. Miss Effie tells me you read books.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small leather-bound volume.
“I’d like to read to you from The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan.”
I grimace.
“Now, I don’t believe in reading for pleasure, and I am certain that the only education a person truly needs can be gleaned from the Word of the Lord, which has ever been
my only textbook. But this little book is one my mother read to me when I was a child, and it was written for the express purpose of pointing a person toward Heaven. Perhaps it might encourage you. It’s about the journey of a man named Christian.” His voice is liquid and golden like when he spoke the Words of the Lord. “I hope you’ll find it inspiring, Miss Catrina.”
But I’ve already read it. If my throat was well enough for me to speak, I’d be tempted to tell Reverend Preston that if he’s hoping I’ll be inspired to sacrifice myself and abandon the one I love like Christian does, to go searching for a city in the sky, he’s going to be disappointed. But I can’t speak, and Reverend Preston’s already opening the book.
* * *
Henry enters the room right as Christian tumbles into a bog called the Slough of Despond. I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to see my brother.
“Ah, a smile!” Reverend Preston stops reading to greet Henry and offer him his place beside the bed. “Your sister seems to be getting a little better. I believe the road to her improvement lies in edifying words and thinking on spiritual things.” He closes Pilgrim’s Progress and pats the cover.
Lord. I hardly heard a speck of the story. The whole time he was reading, I daydreamed that I found Stonefield and we ran far away together. We were living in the woods, making wild work that looked like a giant spider’s web hanging between two oaks. We created it from delicate slender reeds and connected them together with thorns that couldn’t be seen. Then my daydream switched to us wrestling in a field of bluebells and clover. Every time Reverend Preston read the word suddenly, I imagined pinning Stonefield down and kissing him.
Henry nods, approving. “Looks like your prescription’s working.”
“Well broom me out!” Dora appears in the doorway in a yellow dress that looks tight enough in the waist to squeeze her in half. “My sister-in-law! I came to visit you, but you were always asleep when I came by. And my goodness, you sleep sound as the dead—no one could wake you.”
I managed to “fall asleep” whenever I heard Dora’s loud voice carry through the hall and not wake up until she left.
She sweeps over to the bed. “But thank goodness, your demon’s left you. I always said the Devil was the problem. Some people weren’t sure about it, but I was. I said so, didn’t I, Cat?”
My body turns into a fire, and I want to burn Dora up with it. Henry knows. He clasps my wrist. “Dora, I’ve told Catrina about our visit with Dr. Rueben in St. Louis.” But he’s not looking at Dora, he’s staring at me. His eyes are saying, Be proper, Cat. Don’t cause a fuss. Be changed. Be fixed.
“Oh my, yes, Cat, he was such an interesting man. I could listen to him go on and on about his lunatics for days!”
Oh Hell. I bristle. Henry’s fingers tighten around my wrist.
“You should have heard what he said about you! And then how he went on about the stray Indian savage boy your father took in like a Good Samaritan! Mercy, it was like the man was reading from a book. I didn’t understand the half of it.”
Oh, if I had my voice! I turn away from them, to the wall. A hateful fire’s scorching my insides.
Henry’s grip doesn’t lessen. “Dora and Reverend Preston, I think all the sudden company has exhausted Catrina. Would you mind if my sister and I had a moment alone before she rests?”
When they’re gone, Henry speaks to the back of my head. “Next week I’ll be enlisting and sent on assignment.”
I turn and stare at him. How can he leave us right when Papa’s so sick?
“Reverend Preston says he cast out your demon and it hasn’t returned. You’re healed from the evil spirit that was troubling you. This means a change for you—good things, Cat. A fresh start. But you have to be brave enough to do what’s best. You have to be careful to keep the evil spirit from coming back.” His fingers loosen and he pats my hand. “Reverend Preston wants to continue helping you find your way. And he’s quite fond of you—he says he has always been especially interested in you ever since the Lord put it on his heart to guide you onto the right path. In fact, God told him that it is His will that he guide you toward the reverend’s own path so that the two can merge. He … he’s asked Father’s permission to marry you, Cat.”
I pull my hand away. My voice is gone, so I shake my head. I do it slow and serious, so he won’t think I’m demon possessed.
“I talked to Father about it. I told him how good Reverend Preston has been to us and how he’s helped you. Father agreed with me to give him permission.”
I shake my head harder.
“Reverend Preston has forgiven the fact that you spent so much time unchaperoned with that heathen, because that was before your demon was cast from you. Not many men would be so willing to overlook such a thing. There’s no reason for a girl not to accept such a good, respectable gentleman. And all the young ladies think he’s the handsomest man in Missouri, to boot.”
I shake my head so hard, it bangs against the wall.
Henry takes hold of my shoulders. “Listen to me, Cat.” His words are a sharp whisper. “Listen. I’m joining the army. I’ve put it off because I was worried about you and Father being on your own. But now you have my Dora to help with the house and, when you marry in a month or two, Reverend Preston will take care of you and help Father manage the farm. You and he will live in the brand-new parsonage and he’ll give you everything you could want or need. You’ll be a respectable Christian woman.”
I want to cry out in resistance, but it comes out as a moan.
“Cat, listen to me. I know you’ve lived in your own world for the past year or so since we lost Mother. But you can’t ignore reality any longer. People in town are getting warm under the collar. Some folks in Roubidoux and Rolla are for the Confederacy now, like Dora’s brother Bill—he’s already run off to join the insurrectionists, the damned hothead. And there’s some like Frank Louis, who don’t respect either government, and demand to be left alone. Frank’s been stirring things up, saying that if the Union Army demands anything from him, he’ll use force to deny it. Things are getting dangerous, Cat.”
Henry touches my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like he’s the old Henry. But he’s just trying to make me stay quiet and do what he wants.
“You’ll appreciate having Reverend Preston here in my stead. He’s well liked and has the support of most everyone in Roubidoux. And being a minister, he’s one of the few who can afford to not be political, so he doesn’t have enemies. He’s a kind-hearted man, Cat, and I, for one, am grateful, especially as how Father’s so weak, and Dora might be expecting a child within the year.”
Henry squints at me as if he’s trying to see my thoughts. He’s nervous. He’s waiting to see if my demon is truly gone. Maybe he thinks I will tear off my nightdress again and go running through the house.
I shake my head firm and make a groaning noise, the closest thing to a no that I can manage.
He’s come to the end of his patience with me. He licks his lips and points a finger at me like I’m Napoleon the dog. “Cat, you will accept his visits and you will be proper and friendly.”
I spit at his boots.
Henry leaps to his feet. “I’ve had enough of this ungrateful behavior. If you persist in being pigheaded about things, I’ll just have to assume your demon has returned. Shall I go tell Reverend Preston that, or shall we calm down and do what’s sensible?”
Lord, how I hate him! How can he do this to me? I fight the tears of anger that rise to my eyes. My whole body’s shaking in rage, but I don’t speak. I turn my glare to the floor.
When I am silent, he thinks it means I agree. He lets out a sigh of relief and pats my knee. “This is the best thing for you, Cat. You’ll see.”
I pull my knee away from his hand. He does not hear the protest I am shouting in my head louder than a thousand steam engines. I am shouting that I will never marry Preacher Preston because Stonefield would never leave me.
Henry thinks he has me trapped under
his thumb. But I’ll be like one of those tiny gray lizards that he used to try to catch when he was little—when he caught one by the tail, the lizard just let it break off and left that tail behind. I’ll figure out a way to escape him.
20
I’ve been deemed well enough to go back home, but not well enough to do much else. I wanted so bad to see Papa, but when I finally do, I almost wish I hadn’t. When Effie and I enter his study, the room is dark, but even in the low light, Papa looks altered. His face seems faded, like he hasn’t been in the sun for a long time, and sitting in his old chair with his pipe, he seems smaller than I remember. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder. He lays his big hand on my head and strokes my hair slow, touching the scar on my forehead real gentle. I thought my tear ducts had all dried up and withered away, but suddenly they’re filled.
“I’m all right, Cat.” He pats my head. “Did you miss me?”
I nod but I don’t say anything. I haven’t spoken a word since my throat sickness took my voice away.
“I missed you reading to me.” Papa’s thin shoulders shake as he chuckles. “Dora tried, bless her, but she doesn’t seem to know what the dickens a comma’s for, and just races right past them.”
I shake my head and thump my chest. Me. I should have been here with him.
Papa knows what I’m trying to say. He pats my knee. “No, no. Effie says you were sick, too.”
I push my head into his shoulder again to wipe off the tears that come slipping out.
“Now, that’s enough bellyaching.” He pushes me away. “Remember that line Stonefield quoted to us—‘What’s gone and what’s past help should be past grief.’ It’s true, Cat, so don’t fret on it anymore.”
When he mentions Stonefield, I feel an uneasy twinge in my stomach. How could he leave me when I was hurt? I have to find out where he went. I steal the pipe from Papa and take a long pull, hoping he says more about Stonefield. Maybe he’ll explain what happened. But Effie clears her throat to change the subject.
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