by Connie Lacy
Half of me wanted him to stab Jonah to death. The other half was terrified at what would happen if he did.
24
Degataga came to an abrupt halt at the door, causing me to plow into him. Inside, I could see Jonah standing by the bed, Amadahy sprawled on the floor in front of him, blood on the sleeve of her dress. When Jonah saw us, he tightened his grip on Ginny, the squalling baby still in her arms. Blood dripped from the blade of his knife as he held it to Ginny’s throat.
“You tell your Injun cousin this ain’t none a his business,” Jonah barked at Amadahy. “If he don’t hightail it outta here right now, I’m gonna do a lot more than cut a gash in someone’s arm.”
“Please let Ginny and Betsey go,” she said, slowly pulling herself to a sitting position, pressing her hand over her wounded arm. “I will stand with you.”
“I’m done with you, squaw,” he said. “Gonna find me a white woman who’ll be nice to me and give me sons.”
“My cousin can take my baby and me away from the farm to make room for your new wife,” she replied, her voice amazingly calm under the circumstances.
“Believe I’ll turn you in for a reward.” He gave her a cocky look, watching her struggle to her feet. “I hear tell the government’s still looking for Cherokees to march ‘em west.”
Betsey’s wailing grew even louder.
“I’m sick of that screaming baby! Make her shut up!”
Amadahy spoke softly to her daughter in Cherokee as she had done many times before. After a moment, the crying turned to whimpering, Betsey eyeing her mother longingly.
“Now tie Miz Murray up,” he commanded. “On the bed. And tell your cousin to put that goddam knife away and get off my land!”
Amadahy looked hard at Degataga as she said something in their language.
“Mr. Barnes,” I said, “please…”
“I got a score to settle with you,” he butted in, glaring at me.
The thought of him touching me made me weak, especially considering the knife in his hand. I forced myself to step around Degataga and into the house. Amadahy reached into a trunk at the foot of the bed and withdrew a piece of cloth, quickly ripping it into strips. Jonah gestured for me to lie down on the lumpy mattress so she could tie my wrists to the headrail.
“Her feet too!” he snapped.
She followed his instructions, tying my ankles to the railing at the foot of the bed.
With her back turned to Jonah, she widened her eyes at me, trying to send me a message. A message I couldn’t decipher.
Jonah checked my wrists and ankles to make sure I was bound securely before turning his attention to Degataga.
“Move out into the yard so I can see you through the door. Understand?”
Jonah looked at Amadahy, indicating she should translate.
She said something to Degataga in their language and he slowly backed out the door.
“You next,” Jonah said, jutting his ragged whiskers in her direction.
Once they were both outside, he dragged Ginny and the baby backwards to the corner where his musket leaned against the wall. In an instant, he released her, tucked the knife in his waistband and swung the big gun up in front of him so it was aimed directly at her. Then he cocked it and smiled.
He motioned with the barrel for Ginny to join the others. She held the baby close, kissing her cheek as she followed them, Jonah hobbling along behind her.
Lying there shackled to the bed, I tried to tamp down the panic spreading through my bloodstream. It didn’t work. Especially with the air in the house turning hazy. Twisting around, I could see smoke seeping in along the back wall. I yanked my arms and kicked my legs in a vain effort to free myself.
I felt like I’d been zipped up in a down-filled parka on the hottest day of the year. And now I was coughing from the smoke. Not only did I have to free myself to avoid whatever Jonah planned to do to me, I also had to get out of here before the house caught fire. Not to mention, trying to stop him from killing someone with that long rifle of his.
What message had Amadahy tried to send me with her eyes? What was she trying to tell me? I swiveled slightly, struggling to see my wrists, then lifted my head to check my feet. The strips of cloth binding me to the bed were the color of wheat but I had no way of knowing what kind of material it was. I renewed my yanking and pulling, to no avail.
It must be the fabric, itself, I thought. I used my fingers to investigate. The fabric wasn’t as thick as it looked, and the edges were frayed. I pulled threads along the margins. After a few seconds, I succeeded in unraveling several threads. That had to be it. Amadahy’s unspoken message.
I clawed and pulled until the strip of cloth was narrower than when I started. I tore at the fibers, separating them from the fabric, deconstructing it bit by bit.
As I continued my painstaking task, there was more shouting. They had moved to the side of the house and I couldn’t hear the words, but Jonah’s voice was filled with bile. Time was running out. I worked my fingers as fast as I could. Finally, finally, I felt the cloth give. Yanking my arms as hard as I could, I tore it in two, sending a jolt of pain through my right shoulder. I hissed, trying not to cry out in pain, sitting up and untying my ankles.
Hurrying to the door, I listened intently.
“Are you deaf? I said drop your knife, Injun! If he don’t understand me, squaw, you better translate right quick before I blow him to kingdom come!”
Amadahy spoke in Cherokee. Degataga replied. Were they waiting for me to do something? To distract Jonah so Degataga might overpower him?
“I can shoot that little crybaby too! So you better do like I say!”
I edged out the door and along the front wall, peeking around the corner just as Degataga tossed his knife on the ground.
“Bring it here!” Jonah barked.
Amadahy strained to bend down and pick up the blade, dropping it several feet in front of him. Then she returned to Degataga’s side, holding her bloody arm.
“I know he ain’t your cousin,” Jonah sneered.
He shoved Ginny away from him, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees. Betsey slipped from her arms and landed on the ground, which prompted a new wave of crying. As Amadahy took a step toward her baby, Jonah pointed his musket directly at Degataga, his finger moving to the trigger.
“No!” I screamed, rushing from my hiding place.
Jonah looked in my direction, but a crashing noise drew everyone’s attention to the hut. The thatched roof had already been incinerated and now we watched as the walls collapsed outward. As they pancaked onto the ground, Nana materialized from the smoke like a magician performing an illusion, squinting in the morning sunshine. A second later Mallory appeared behind her, mouth agape.
Nana stepped over the burning planks, glancing at them as though mildly interested in what caused the mess. She hurried forward, a quart jar in each hand.
“I brought you some fig preserves!” she called out, holding the jars up as she smiled at Amadahy. “My daughter helped me pick them when she was here, and my friend Jeannette helped me cook them.”
“Get off my property, old hag!” Jonah screamed, his face contorted with rage. “You got till the count of three. And if you ain’t gone…”
“There’s no call to be rude, young man,” Nana said, advancing toward us, seemingly unaware of the danger.
“Nana!” I cried.
She looked from me to Amadahy to Degataga to Ginny and the baby, then briefly focused on Jonah, dried blood visible on the side of his head, his rifle aimed at Degataga’s chest.
“I only want to give my lovely neighbor these fig preserves,” she said, giving him a friendly nod. “I used my grandmother’s recipe. Which means I put extra sugar in them. I think you’ll like them.”
“Nana,” I said, stepping forward.
Jonah tightened his grip on the gun. He was about to pull the trigger. No more thinking about what all this would mean for the future.
Darting
forward, I flung myself between Jonah and Degataga as a deafening gunshot echoed through the air. But at that very instant, Nana did the same thing from the opposite side. We crashed into each other and fell in a tangle, Nana still clutching the fig jars.
I thought Jonah would continue firing, but he heaved the musket at his adversary as Degataga rushed him. The weapon ricocheted off his body and fell to the ground. With lightning speed, Degataga retrieved his knife from the dirt while Jonah pulled his own from his waistband. So haughty a moment before, he now had no human shield, no rifle to protect him. He backed away, his knee injury from our fight the day before taking its toll. Then he cocked his arm, preparing to throw his blade. But before he could release it, Degataga dived at his enemy, knocking the weapon from his hand. Then he plunged his knife deep into Jonah’s belly.
Shock filled Jonah’s eyes as he dropped to his knees. Shock was replaced by a look of agony as he teetered and fell in slow motion, face down on the ground.
“Shit,” Mallory mumbled.
There was a flurry of activity as Amadahy rushed to lift Betsey from the ground, Ginny hurried to collect Jonah’s rifle and knife, and Degataga checked to see that Jonah was dead.
I turned my attention to Nana, easing her off of me, gently laying her down as she relaxed her grip on the jars. I was confused, seeing blood on both of us. But I felt no pain.
She smiled up at me, her glasses slightly askew.
“I saved them from that monster,” she said. “Who is that young man?”
“That’s Degataga, the man Amadahy, I mean, Forest Water…” but I choked up, realizing she’d taken the bullet – that she’d thrown herself between Jonah and me as I rushed forward.
“The man she loves,” she said. “I’m so happy.”
Scanning her body, I discovered the side of her blue shirt soaked with blood.
“Oh, Nana!” I whispered.
Tears overflowed as I fought to keep a sob from rising in my throat.
“Don’t cry, sweetie. My grandpa was bedridden and senile – that’s what we used to call it. I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. But I’ve felt it coming.” She coughed and I heard a gurgle in her throat.
“We need to get you to a hospital,” I said, noticing the sudden pallor of her skin. “But there aren’t any figs on…”
“This is how I want to go. Like a gutsy old woman. Saving my Cherokee neighbor.” She winced as she coughed. “Wait till I tell Bob.”
There was an obvious crackling in her throat as she breathed. Some long-forgotten memory told me that’s what people used to call the death rattle.
Amadahy knelt beside us, her daughter in her arms.
“Thank you, Old Grandmother,” she said, laying her hand on Nana’s cheek. “You showed great courage.”
Nana looked from Amadahy to Betsey, contentment obvious on her wrinkled face.
I kissed her forehead and held her hand. “I love you, Nana.”
“I love you too,” she whispered, so soft, I could barely hear the words.
A blissful smile spread across her face as she gazed into my eyes. And then her eyes focused somewhere beyond me. Somewhere far beyond me.
My body was racked with sobs as I held her in my arms. My wonderful Nana was gone.
I cradled her body, rocking slowly to and fro, tears rolling down my cheeks as I tried to process all that had happened. Not only did she save Degataga and Amadahy, she also saved me. Which weighed me down with guilt. Then again, she was overjoyed that she’d died doing something meaningful. My emotions were so conflicted.
Hearing another familiar voice, I looked up to see Eric trotting toward me, the terrible scene reflected in his expression. He dropped to his knees beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. Taking one look at Nana’s vacant stare, he reached across me and with great tenderness removed her glasses and closed her eyes as I continued to cradle her in my arms.
“Are you wounded?” he whispered, noticing blood on my blouse.
Unable to speak, I shook my head.
Gradually, I became aware that Amadahy and Degataga were talking quietly. At length, she addressed the group.
“We must bury the dead without delay.” Then she turned to Ginny. “The knife and gun should be wiped clean.”
Degataga took hold of Jonah’s ankles and dragged him to the front of the house, leaving a blood stain on the ground. Ginny carried Jonah’s weapons to the river. With the baby still on her hip, Amadahy crossed the yard to the edge of the garden, retrieving her spade. She set Betsey on the ground and dug into the stained soil where Jonah died, turning the dirt over so the blood was no longer visible. When she was satisfied, she picked up her daughter and came to stand before me, looking down with sorrow in her eyes.
“I did not know Old Grandmother would give her life for my family. She had strong medicine. Let it be said that she was a Beloved Woman of the Aniyunwiya.”
“There’s no way to take her home,” I said, speaking through my tears. “Even if there were figs, she can’t…” and I faltered.
Amadahy considered that. “It is fitting that Old Grandmother be laid to rest in my family burial ground.”
Eric followed her directions, carrying Nana’s body to the river while Amadahy ducked into the house. As he lay the body on the riverbank, we saw Degataga ride away, Jonah’s corpse draped over the horse behind him, covered by a blanket. The musket and a shovel were tucked into the saddle.
Ginny followed Amadahy to the river, carrying Betsey, Mallory trailing behind like a lost child.
Amadahy took a moment to wash the knife wound in her arm – the last abuse Jonah would ever inflict on her – then wrap it in a strip of clean cloth. Then she turned her attention to undressing my grandmother.
Eric asked for Mallory’s assistance hauling water to wet the back of the house to make sure no sparks would smolder.
We laid Nana on a blanket, then Amadahy lovingly washed her body. I helped dress her in a shift she’d brought from the house. I finger-combed Nana’s hair into place, surprised at how natural the whole process felt.
A short time later, Degataga returned, having completed his unpleasant task. He made quick work of constructing a drag sled, letting the horse drink from the river as he worked. Then he attached it to the saddle and Eric helped him lift Nana’s body onto the cross-hatched branches between the poles.
Degataga hoisted Amadahy onto the saddle. He walked on one side of the horse while I walked on the other as we headed off through the woods, leaving the others behind.
The burial ground was a quiet place, secluded by several large boulders and a row of tall pines and shorter scrub oaks.
Degataga dug the grave while Amadahy meticulously wrapped the blanket around Nana’s body, creating a burial shroud. Then, holding the ends of the blanket, we lifted her from the litter and lowered her into the ground, careful to position her facing west toward the Darkening Land.
Once we finished piling a mound of rocks atop the grave, Amadahy lifted her voice in song. I sensed the sadness even though I didn’t understand the words. It was a song of lamentation, half chanting, half singing. I closed my eyes, swaying to the doleful tune, and thought of Nana, remembering her love, remembering her cheerful voice, remembering her laugh.
When Amadahy finished, it was so quiet, I was acutely aware of birds singing their own song above us. There was a rustling of leaves as a light breeze whispered through the branches, lifting my hair, cooling my skin. I looked around me, trying to memorize that peaceful scene.
On our way back to the homestead, Degataga played his flute as we walked beside Amadahy on the horse, the melancholy notes resonating deep within me.
As soon as we arrived at the farm, Amadahy led me to the river. Holding hands, we waded fully clothed into the current.
“It is Cherokee custom,” she said, referring to the ritual we performed.
Remembering her narrative after Isham’s death, I followed her lead as we submerged our bodies in the wa
ter seven times, each time, facing east, then west, calling out Nana’s name. Edie, Edie, Edie. Edie. Edie. Edie. Edie.
Nana would be honored to know we performed the traditional funeral rites for her – she, who always believed she was part Cherokee.
Degataga held Amadahy’s hand as she stepped from the water, pulling her gently into his arms. I averted my gaze, focusing instead on the high wispy clouds that streaked the blue sky, reminding me of Nana’s soft white hair. With the current flowing around me and the sun warming my face, my burden of grief and sorrow eased enough so I could breathe normally again.
But once I approached the house, it hit me. Not only was I stuck in the past. Now Eric and Mallory were trapped too.
25
Eric had been caring, yet respectful, allowing me space to grieve and bury my grandmother. When we reached the stoop, he held me close.
Upon entering the house, Ginny jumped up, handing blankets to Amadahy and me to wrap ourselves in, our dresses still soaked from the funeral ritual. Then she placed three tin plates on the table, motioning for us to sit down and eat. It was a simple meal – cold cornbread filled with beans.
Giving us time to put some food in our stomachs first, Eric broke the silence from his spot beside me.
“We wet the back of the house to make sure there weren’t any hot embers. And we poured buckets of water on what’s left of the hut. Which isn’t much. But at least the fire is out.”
Degataga gave him a nod of thanks before Eric continued.
“But we discovered a rather significant problem. The fig bush was burned to a crisp along with the hut.”
“The bush is dead?” I whispered.
“It will grow back one day,” Amadahy said.
“But how long will that take?”
“Two or three years. Longer until it once again produces fruit.”
“What’s the big deal about that particular fig bush?” Mallory asked. “I saw some others out there.”
“That is the only one with going back magic,” Amadahy explained.
I pushed my plate away.
“You know, I didn’t believe Eric when he told me we’d time traveled,” Mallory said. “While you were gone, I actually walked all the way up the hill looking for your grandmother’s cottage and my car before I was convinced. And as fascinating as it is sitting around the table together in the past, I seriously need to get out of here. Now you tell me the time travel thing only works when you eat figs from one special bush that no longer exists?”
