“Obviously, my mama didn’t listen. I wouldn’t be here telling this story if she had.” Miss Poni smiled, but it was a bitter smile.
“Well, Carlin told her mama not to worry and packed up the few things that were hers. I guess that was when Bridget knew that she had failed—failed to save herself and failed to save her daughter.
“When my mama woke up, ready to leave with Colin Ferguson, Bridget was gone. All my mama could find was a note and a gunny sack on the kitchen table.”
Miss Poni paused as she reached a gnarled hand into the pocket of her cardigan, and Diana had to stop herself from reaching for the folded paper, browned with age, that the old woman produced. Miss Poni gave Diana a wry glance, as if she knew exactly how desperately the other woman wanted to read its contents with her own eyes. Diana leaned back in her chair, chastened.
Miss Poni read…
My sweet Carlin,
I cannot bear to see you leave and I cannot bear the knowledge that I couldn’t save you from our family’s curse. Tonight, I find that the whisky’s no longer enough to banish the voice that haunts me, nor the visions that she brings.
Everything I have is yours. It may not look like much, but these things are our treasures. Keep them safe.
I hope that you can rescue yourself from the life fate has given you, and the life you have chosen. Don’t forget the old ways, Carlin. Teach them to your own daughter, when she comes. I’ve seen her, and she’s strong—maybe strong enough to save us all.
I know I’ll see you again, child, in another life, in another form. But now I’ve gone to the water, to cool the flames.
Your loving mother,
Bridget Fitzgerald
Miss Poni folded the note back up and tucked it back into her pocket.
Gretchel’s voice was hoarse from tears. “Why,” she cried, “Why didn’t anybody ever tell me?”
Miss Poni looked at Ella. Gretchel’s mother was the one who spoke. “We thought it might be better—we thought maybe we could get you help—if we treated it like a mental illness instead of a curse. And we were afraid that you would hurt yourself. We wanted to keep you safe.”
“I did hurt myself! Or maybe you don’t remember the two times you had to pull me out of the lake,” Gretchel cried.
Or all the self-mutilation scars on her belly, Eli raged internally.
“Baby Girl, we did the best we could,” Ella said gently.
Gretchel wailed until her voice failed completely. Then she collapsed against Teddy.
When the room was silent again, Diana cleared her throat. “I have documents confirming Bridget’s suicide. She drowned in Lake Michigan.”
Miss Poni turned to Diana. Their eyes met, and the old woman’s frailty fell away. Diana was transfixed. Everyone else in the room disappeared
“Some patterns,” Miss Poni said, “are very hard to break.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Irvine, 2010s
“I’m sure you can imagine how my mama felt when she read those words. Bridget was the last person she had in the world, except for Colin Ferguson. She had a heavy heart when she traveled to Southern Illinois with her husband-to-be. Well, she thought that was what he was going to be, but I’m gettin’ ahead of my story.
“Colin took her to his hunting property, and it was love at first sight. Mama told me that she loved the land even more than she loved the man. You all know the property, of course. It’s where the cottage sits today.”
“Well my mama’s beau put her up in a boarding house—a house that still stands in Irvine on the corner of Third and Market. He told her he loved everything about her but her name. Carlin was too close to Colin, he said, and he asked her to change it. She didn’t think anything of it. Maybe a new life needed a new name, she figured. Anyway, when Colin Ferguson signed over the deed to his property, he signed it over to Mary Catherine Miller.
“He told her that she would have to stay in her room at the boarding house until her new home was finished. She asked if he would stay with her, and he said that he was needed in St. Louis, but that he would visit her when he could. He told her again to stay in her room. He was adamant about that. He assured her that her meals would be brought to her, that a chamber maid would take care of her, that she had a line of credit that she could use to buy whatever she wanted. But she must keep to her room until her new home was ready.
“Well, this was hard for a young girl to hear, but she had no choice now. She was alone in the world but for Colin Ferguson. The wild dancer was now caged and alone.”
“Mama spent her days in a boarding-house room planning her fairytale cottage. When Colin Ferguson visited, she would show him sketches she had made. She would give him long lists of details. Colin promised to build her the house of her dreams.
“When the cottage was almost completed, my mama demanded that Colin set a date for the wedding. She wanted to know why he kept running off to St. Louis. She told him that it drove her mad. She wanted to know why he couldn’t stay with her all the time. She wanted to know why he hadn’t married her yet, and why she couldn’t leave her room. Exasperated by her questions, he hit her. Not once, but over and over again.
“Like I said, the women in this family have never been good at choosing men.”
“Well, when he was worn out from hitting her, Colin told Mama that he already had a wife and two sons.
“He told her that she should be grateful that he had given her a piece of his property, that he was giving her a home.
“He said if she was smart, and if she wanted to keep that property, she would keep her mouth shut and do as he said.
“She was heartbroken, positively heartbroken. She thought about running away, but where would she go? Her parents were gone. She had no money—all those twenties Colin had given her he took back, ‘for safe-keeping,’ he said. And then she found out she was pregnant….”
After pausing to wipe a tear from her eye, Miss Poni turned to look at Gretchel. “That’s when Mama started hearing the voice in her head.”
Gretchel looked away.
Diana was taking notes. “What did your mother tell you about the voice? Did it have a name?”
“No, Mama never gave it a name. All she would say about it was that it was the same voice that had plagued her own mama, and her mama’s mama, and all the women in her family as far back as anyone knew.”
“Have you heard the voice, Miss Poni?”
“I’m afraid that’s none of your business, Ms. Stewart.”
Diana tried to look contrite, but she had a difficult time disguising her desire to know.
“Now, shall I continue with my story, or have you heard enough?”
“Oh, please, Miss Poni. Please go on.”
“I didn’t see my daddy a whole lot,” Miss Poni continued, “As you might guess, he was busy with his real family. He made sure we had enough money to get by, though, and his absence was really a blessing. He couldn’t beat Mama if he wasn’t around. And, with him gone, she was free to teach me the old ways. We were careful when Colin Ferguson came to visit, especially after her slashed Mama’s face just for mentioning the phase of the moon.”
Miss Poni’s family had seen photos in which Carlin’s scars were visible. Still, they gasped.
“But, as I say, most of the time we were left alone. I’m not sure my daddy ever saw Mama dancing under the stars, but I did, and it was a sight. My mama never looked happier than when she was dancing.
“We had a good life, Mama and me. We raised our own food, took care of our own livestock, and fished in the lake. We took long walks and went swimming. Most of the time, it was just the two of us.
“Our only neighbor was Mr. Phillip Snyder. The property we lived on had been his before Colin Ferguson bought it from him. I got the impression that there was something not quite right about the sale, but, if Daddy wronged him, Mr. Snyder never held it against Mama or me.
“He was a kind man, and he still cared about the land that had been his enoug
h to want to make sure it flourished. He took a shine to Mama, of course. She was a beautiful woman—you can tell from the pictures down at the cottage. She liked him well enough, too. They took long walks through the woods, and I know Mama told him our secrets, because he would slip up and say certain things every now again—things that no one else could know unless he’d heard it from her.
“I also knew that Mr. Snyder loved me as much as he loved my Mama, and I loved him right back.
“He had horses. So many beautiful horses. Mr. Snyder gave me one of my very own, and he’s the one who first called me ‘Miss Poni.’ He said he’d never seen anyone who had such a good relationship with horses. I guess a way with horses is one of my gifts.
“Mr. Snyder also bought me books. Books, books, and more books. Some of them are still sitting on shelves in the cottage. He knew I was starved for education—Daddy wouldn’t let me go to school—and curious about the outside world. Mama and I had no means of transportation, and we were not allowed to go into town. Daddy wanted to keep us hid. I don’t remember Mama ever going into town. But she let Mr. Snyder take me, and those trips were pure delight.
“Mr. Snyder was a busy man—he had a big farm to run—but he took time to make sure that I got the rudiments of a good education. Between him and Mama, I turned out all right. I could read and write. I could farm and fish. And, after Mr. Snyder bought Mama a shotgun and taught us both how to shoot, I learned to hunt.
“Mr. Snyder raised me like his own child, and he loved me like his own child. He wasn’t just like a father to me—he was my real father, my true father, as far as I was concerned.”
Ame’s face was flushed with suppressed tears as she turned a quick glance to Eli. He didn’t notice, but Gretchel did. Diana did, too.
“In time, I came to know Mr. Snyder’s farmhands and their families quite well. It was nice to have other children to play with, and the farmhands themselves were never anything but kind to me. I think they understood that anyone who stepped out of line with Mama or me would lose a job—and maybe a limb to boot.
“Life at the cottage would have been perfect if not for the monthly visits from Colin Ferguson. He would bring us lovely presents every time he came. House linens, beautiful dresses, chocolates, perfumes, rouge for mama’s lips, toys for me. Even so, our hearts sunk when we saw him coming up the drive.
“My mama would have me scrubbed down and primped-up like a china doll. It always seemed like she was trying to wash the wild out of me before he came. She would be all dressed-up, too, her hair and dress just so, make-up on her face. Even as a girl, I could see that it was all a lie, and it made me so mad! I couldn’t understand why she put up with him when she could have a fine man like Mr. Snyder.
“Every visit was the same. By the end of supper, Daddy would be drunk and accusing Mama of all kinds of impropriety—that she was sleeping with the plowboys from Snyder Farms was one of his favorite insults. He would drag me up the stairs by my hair, calling me a worthless bastard the whole way, and then he would lock me in my room while he beat the hell out of Mama.
“I would sit up there, just crying and praying. Praying to the Goddess to make him stop. Praying for Coyote to trick him. Praying for Mr. Snyder to come down to the cottage and catch him in the act. But the beatings didn’t stop. That was why she never had any more children after me. He busted her up so bad she couldn’t have any more. He did horrible, horrible things to her. Things I will not mention because it hurts me to repeat them.”
Everyone in the room looked horrified. Gretchel looked like she might be sick.
“He would leave Sunday afternoon, all apologetic and sappy. It just killed me to watch her kiss him goodbye with her face all bloodied and bruised. It just broke my heart that she wasn’t any stronger when I knew she had it in her,” Miss Poni wiped at silent tears and stared out of the window for a good long while.
“The poppies were our pride and joy,” Miss Poni continued in an artificially bright voice. Gretchel sat up straight, and the hair on her arms stood up as well.
“Poppies?” Gretchel asked.
“Yes, Baby Girl, the poppies.”
“Mama, Mr. Snyder, and I had cultivated a beautiful field of poppies so tall and bright—well, you just wouldn’t believe how glorious it was. It was magical.”
“The Wicked Garden?” Gretchel’s voice was hoarse from crying.
“Yes, Baby Girl. Please let me tell my story in my own way. It’s not an easy tale to tell.”
Gretchel nodded, and Miss Poni continued.
“The poppy garden, that was my place. That was where I practiced my little magics. That was where I read my books. That was where I daydreamed. That was where Mama and I danced to Mr. Snyder’s guitar picking and the farmhands’ drumbeats.
“I’ll never forget one night in particular in that garden. We were dancing. Free as free could be. I’d never felt so free. I was hittin’ puberty and I felt the stirrings that comes with all the hormones, but I also felt a fire starting to burn in me that night. It was a separate feeling—separate, but connected to everything I’d ever known and experienced, if that makes any bit a sense. I knew this fire was important. I knew the burn inside was the Goddess’ way of trying to speak to me, but I had no idea what she was trying to say.
“Anyway, it was a perfect late spring night. There was a full moon, stars covering the open sky, and light sparkling on the lake. I danced until I could dance no more. I lay down exhausted in the field of poppies and I gave my heart to the Goddess and Cernunnos, and promised to not let them down. I promised to break the curse that doomed the women in my family, even though I had no idea what that curse was. I promised to stay strong, and to make sure the women who followed me were safe. I’m still working on that promise.” Miss Poni looked around the room, pausing to look at Ella, Gretchel, Holly, and Ame. Her eyes lingered longest on Ame.
“I was barely thirteen and tall and proud. I was just like my mama had been, but at that point in my life she had already become soft, quiet... submissive. I was determined to be none of those things. I was a wild woman, and not ashamed of it. Mr. Snyder had fostered that in me. He loved the wildness in me. He told me it was important to never, ever, ever hide my wildness.
“Mr. Snyder hadn’t been raised in the old ways, but I think that he understood them better than Mama did. Or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t been beat-down by a no-good man or driven half-crazy by a demon’s voice. Anyway, he told me to stay wild, and I took his advice.
“Well, the Summer Solstice came. I knew that we weren’t expecting my father, so I was determined to celebrate the day in my field of poppies, even though my mama had forbidden any rituals outside of the woods. She was afraid of being caught, but I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t afraid of much of anything.
“I remember that morning like it was yesterday. I was alone out in the poppy garden. I made an offering and then I prayed to the wise ones. I prayed my daddy would never come back. I cast a dark spell on him—the first such spell I had ever cast—and, as I finished, I heard that son of a bitch pulling up the drive! He had come early!
“He saw me kneeling in front of an oak tree, and he knew enough about Mama’s beliefs to have an idea of what was going on.
“Well, he just about came unglued. As soon as he was out of that car, he came at me like a wolf pouncing on its prey. I saw him coming, and I ran like hell. He caught me anyhow.
“He twisted my arm behind my back and marched me to the barn, with me kickin’ and spittin’ the whole way. He held me tight while he found a piece of rope, and then he dragged me back to the oak tree as I tried to twist free. When he punched me in the face a couple of times…. Well, that took some of the fight out of me. I was quiet and still while he ripped off my clothes. My horse was frantic, though, and my little dog was barking and nipping at Daddy’s ankles.
“Once he had me naked, he tied me to that old oak tree. Then he took off his belt and started whipping me, hard and fast. I thought it would nev
er stop. By the time it did, I was a bloody mess.
“Then Daddy went back to the barn and returned with a jug of moonshine and a can of kerosene.”
Miss Poni stopped again, her hand over her mouth.
Ella put her arm around her mother. “You can quit, Mama. You don’t have to keep going.”
“Oh, but I do, Elphame,” Miss Poni replied. “Just give me a moment to pull myself back together.
“He poured that alcohol all over my body. Oh, my stars! I’d never felt such pain in all my life! I thought surely I’d die.”
Miss Poni slowly stood up, and with Ella holding her arm to keep her steady, she pulled up her blouse and showed everyone in the room the deep lash marks that zig-zagged her belly. Everyone looked away. Holly broke into uncontrollable sobs. Ame began to weep into Eli’s chest while Teddy tightened his grip on Gretchel.
Miss Poni lowered her shirt and sat herself back down. When it was quiet enough, she finished her story.
“While I was busy tryin’ not to die, Daddy went back to the barn for more kerosene. He poured it all over that beautiful garden of ours, lit a match, and tossed it. It went up like a torch, and I swear to you that he had every intention of letting that tree—the big, old oak I was tied to—catch fire with the garden. I suspect that’s what would have happened if Mama hadn’t seen the flames.
“Daddy had made one more trip to the barn when she came running with Mr. Snyder. I was about to scream when I saw them, but she put a finger to her lips and shook her head. I stayed quiet. She ran to the cottage while Mr. Snyder pulled out his pocketknife and started sawing at the ropes that held me.
“When Daddy came back from the barn, the first thing he saw was Mr. Snyder setting me free. This seemed to make him even angrier than he already was. But then he saw Mama standing there with her shotgun, and he knew that his days of runnin’ off to St. Louis were over. He wouldn’t be runnin’ anywhere ever again.
The Witches of Snyder Farms (The Wicked Garden Series) Page 10
