Touched

by Carolyn Haines

  “What’s wrong with Mattie?” Duncan asked. She reached over the seat and touched me. “She’s sweating, and she’s cold.”

  “She’s, ah, had a chill.” JoHanna’s lie rang false in my ears. Duncan didn’t believe her. I could tell that. But she pushed back in the seat and turned her questions to Floyd.

  Above us the night sky was starlit velvet. It was early September. Soon the nights would begin to cool and the sky would get blacker, harsher. October was normally dry, but November could be either. I went through the months and the seasons, finding patterns, predictions, a future that had not changed in the last twelve hours.

  If there was a town of Fitler, I missed it completely. There were trees and stars and the bald patch of road that the car headlights illuminated. And suddenly there was a front porch, and the car slowed to a stop.

  “Floyd, could you carry Duncan in for me?” JoHanna asked. “Duncan, hang on to Pecos until I can get him in your room. Sadie will have a fit if that rooster starts running all over her house. Floyd, please tell Aunt Sadie that I’m out here and need her help. Tell her to bring a lamp.”

  I tried to move, but my legs ignored me. “I can’t seem to make my body obey,” I said, laughing a little at the foolishness of it.

  “Be still.” JoHanna’s voice was firm, in control.

  A figure appeared at the door, a small woman, erect. She held a lighted lantern and she came out to the car, to the passenger side. She held the lantern so she could see my face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bleeding.” JoHanna said it on a sigh. “We have to get it to stop.”

  “Floyd can bring her in.” Aunt Sadie stepped back with the lamp and returned inside. She came back out with Floyd and held the lamp while he picked me up.

  I tried not to cry out, but I did. I sounded like a wounded animal, but I couldn’t help it. Floyd carried me into the house and to the room where Aunt Sadie directed him. The bed was narrow, a single bed with crisp white sheets. Floyd put me down and then stepped back. I could see my blood on his left arm, saturating the sleeve. “Am I dying?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Aunt Sadie motioned Floyd out of the room. “Take care of Duncan,” she directed him with a bluntness that sounded callous. “JoHanna, go put some water on to boil.” She spoke to her niece with the same crispness.

  When the room was clear, she turned to me. “Did you miscarry or did you abort?”

  “A doctor …”

  She didn’t give me time to finish. “Were you bleeding when you left Mobile?”

  “I’d stopped.”

  “Good. Now stay as still as you can. That ride more than likely opened up a bleeder. It may stop on its own. If it doesn’t … well, it will stop by itself. I’m going to make you some tea, and you have to drink every drop.”

  The idea of swallowing anything made me sick, but this small woman wasn’t to be denied. She left the room, and I allowed my body to sink into the soft mattress.

  JoHanna brought the tea, and I drank the nasty stuff. I fell asleep, and in my dream I heard Duncan and Floyd. They were dancing. Duncan was a young woman, her hair all grown, her body complete and whole. And Floyd had somehow found his wits. They were to marry and leave Fitler, together, happy.

  When I awoke, a small elderly woman was standing at the foot of my bed staring at me. Her eyes were clear, hard blue. The wrinkles around them were not from laughing. She looked as if she’d stared too hard at life and found it sad.

  “The bleeding stopped of its own accord,” she said. “If you don’t start again, you’ll be fine. JoHanna’s making some eggs for you. Eat everything. You look like a heifer that’s been left in a bare lot. If you’d lost any more blood, I couldn’t have saved you.”

  She left the room on that bright note, and I eased up in bed.

  The room was small, but there was an open window that allowed the fresh September morning in. Outside was a green tunnel where the road wound between oak trees as big as those in Mobile, and just as laden with the gray mass of growth that hung in lacy gobs. Spanish moss. Elikah had told me that in Mobile.

  Looking harder I saw the outline of what appeared to be buildings. Blackened timber against the sky. From the bed I couldn’t determine if buildings were going up, or if they were the decaying scaffolding of the boomtown that I’d heard so much about.

  JoHanna brought a tray in to me. “It’s Fitler. Or what once was the town,” she said, putting the tray across my lap. “Aunt Sadie says you can’t walk today, but in a day or two we’ll go down there. I’ll tell you about it.”

  Day or two. I had a surge of worry. I had been gone all day yesterday and all night. Without telling Elikah a word. And now I was in another town and he had no idea where I had gone.

  “If you’re worried about that husband of yours, don’t. It’ll do him some good to wonder where you are, and I’ll have Floyd deliver him a note tomorrow or the next day.” She motioned to the tray. “Now eat. Duncan had another dream last night.” She shook her head. “That child has an imagination, but she’s insisting that I take her to speak with Mr. Lassiter.”

  “Mr. Lassiter?” I’d never heard the name.

  “He runs a logging company. Really nice man. Duncan insists that he’s going to drown.” She smiled, but it wasn’t exactly sincere. She was worried and didn’t want to show it. “I’ll send Duncan in to tell you her dream. You can decide for yourself.”

  Sadie brought in more tea and shooed JoHanna out of the room. This had a slightly different flavor, and it had been sweetened with honey to hide the taste of what had to be moonshine. The bite was quick, clean, and hot. It seemed I had hardly finished the cup before my eyes closed and I was adrift on a warm wave of air, floating over trees that swayed in a delicious breeze while the Spanish moss danced and cast strange patterns of shadow on the Fitler sand.

  I awoke with the sound of voices. At first I had no idea where I was or who was talking, but I soon heard JoHanna’s voice. Nervous. Then Duncan’s and Aunt Sadie’s. A fourth voice was added, male. But it wasn’t Floyd’s kind and gentle voice. This man spoke in deep, rich tones crackling with intelligence and with an authority that expected to be obeyed. I was certain it was the sheriff, come to get me and JoHanna.

  Through the weight of fear, I forced myself to listen, to catch the words and comprehend the meaning.

  “She insists on telling you in person, Red.” JoHanna’s voice was apologetic. “I was going to take her down to the river to talk to you, but she sent Floyd without my knowing.”

  “He has to hear.” Duncan had no such apology in her voice. There was anger. “You don’t believe me, Mama, but he has to hear this. If he doesn’t stay off the water, he’s going to drown.”

  “Duncan.” JoHanna’s tone was a reproach.

  “I told Mary Lincoln and she didn’t listen. I told her plain as day. I wasn’t certain then that it would come true. But I know it will. I saw it clear this time.”

  “Duncan …” JoHanna sounded hot enough to sizzle spit.

  “Jo, it’s okay. Let her tell me. The child is trying to help me out.” Beneath the sincerity there was amused tolerance. I could well imagine how that condescending tone would sit with Duncan. If she could walk she’d probably kick him in the shins. But the explosion didn’t come. Instead, Duncan started to talk.

  “It was a crisp day, sort of one of those cool ones thrown in at the end of summer when it doesn’t look as if fall is ever going to come.” Duncan paused. “The weather was good. That’s what I remember, because Mama and I were going along in the sand. I was in the wagon, so I hadn’t got the use of my legs back yet. We were going to get Floyd down at the river where he was fishing.”

  If nothing else, the wealth of her detail had silenced them. They were listening, and so was I, distracted from my own nightmare by the images Duncan cast out to us.

  “You had your men down at the river with a big raft of logs. I asked Mama to take me closer. I like to watch the men herd them up and tie them. Daddy
has said one day he’ll take me down the river on a raft.”

  There was another pause and I knew she was daring JoHanna to object.

  “Tell the dream,” JoHanna said, her voice neutral.

  I knew the camping trip on a raft would come up for later discussion, when the man had gone on about his business.

  “You were out on a raft the men were pulling together. You had one of those hooks and were pulling in a big log. Everyone was laughing. The weather was so fine and the river was shallow, but deep enough to float the logs on down to Pascagoula.” Duncan took a breath.

  “I don’t know what happened, but the log twisted under you. It seemed for a minute that you were going to get your balance back. The men were laughing. Then you stumbled. Your right leg went down between the logs, and they came together real hard.”

  There was a dead silence. I felt my skin chill and prickle.

  “Tell the rest, Duncan.” The man’s voice was not condescending now.

  “I heard the bones crush, and you cried out. You tried to pull out, but the logs were crushing your ankle and leg. The men ran toward you, jumping on logs and running across the river faster than I’d ever seen anyone do that before. But the logs that had hold of you opened, and suddenly you were gone, down under the raft. And you drowned.”

  “Well, that was some dream.” The man’s voice had a false note of joviality in it. “And you know it was me for a fact?”

  “Yes, sir. So I knew I had to tell you. Just stay off the rafts while the weather is good. Then it won’t come true. You won’t have a chance to get caught like that.”

  “Good advice.”

  “Listen, Red,” JoHanna broke in, “she insisted on telling you. And I agree with Duncan, it’s better that you know.”

  “Well, sure. A man can avoid a train if he sees it coming.”

  I could tell he didn’t completely believe what Duncan had said. But she had rattled him some, and maybe enough to keep him off the logs for a while.

  “When I woke up, I could still feel the hot sand on my bare feet where I had been running,” Duncan said.

  “Red …” JoHanna didn’t know what else to say.

  In my bedroom, separated from the voices by a heart of pine wall and open doors, I pulled the sheet up to my chin. The day was hot outside. I could see the heat devils wavering in the sand beyond the tunnel of oaks outside my window. Duncan’s words chilled me. The child had the gift of words, if not prophecy. I had no doubt that everyone sitting around that kitchen table felt the same touch of death that I had.

  “Do yourself a favor, Red. Stay off the rafts. What could it hurt? If the child has a gift, you can save yourself. If she doesn’t, you’ve got men who can do the work as good as you. You won’t lose anything.” Aunt Sadie’s voice was as hammer-hit hard as always.

  The woman was to the point. Direct. But there was a comforting lack of judgment in her. She knew I’d had an abortion, but it was only another fact to tote up so she could figure out how to help me.

  There was the sound of chairs scraping back on hardwood floors. “Thank you, Miss Sadie, for that delicious pound cake and the coffee. I know you let my men come over here once a week for cake and coffee.” He laughed. “I appreciate it. They work hard and lots of them don’t have their families with them for long stretches at a time.”

  “A little sweet cake and hot coffee is a simple gift. Through the years you’ve been good to me, Red. You and your men. If you see JoHanna and Duncan down around the water, get your boys to watch them. JoHanna thinks she’s part fish and Duncan, well, I don’t know what Duncan has decided to be.”

  “A dancer,” Duncan said.

  There was a split second of awkward silence as her words called to everyone’s mind the fact that she couldn’t use her legs. Not yet. They were getting stronger. But dancing was a long, long way away. It was then I remembered her final image, the hot sand as she was running in her dream. Duncan wasn’t a prophet. She was a little girl with a vivid imagination.

  “JoHanna’s brought that sweet boy Floyd up here with her. He’s down at the river fishing now.” China rattled and I knew Aunt Sadie or JoHanna was picking up the dishes from the table. “He’s a handsome boy, but innocent. Keep an eye on him, too. He doesn’t know the currents of that river, has no idea how it can snatch a man and pull him down and hold him.”

  “Floyd will listen to whatever you tell him,” JoHanna added. “He’s no trouble, but if you do see him in a dangerous spot, just tell him. He listens.”

  “Will do. Now those men are thinking I’m stealing all of Miss Sadie’s cake and coffee. They won’t work a lick out of jealousy.”

  Footsteps traveled to the back door.

  “Come back, Red,” Aunt Sadie said.

  “Take care,” JoHanna added.

  “Don’t drown,” Duncan sang out from the kitchen table where she still sat. “Take me in to see Mattie, please,” she requested as soon as the man was gone.

  JoHanna was silent, but I heard the chair scraping. She was picking Duncan up. In a few seconds they appeared at my doorway.

  “You’re awake.” Duncan was delighted. “You look much better. Last night you looked horrible. Put me on her bed, Mama.”

  I nodded at JoHanna’s questioning look. I was feeling much better. The cramps were gone. I was starving again. I was delighted to see Duncan.

  “Want to play cards?” Duncan asked. “Mama always plays cards with me when I’m sick.”

  JoHanna stood in the door waiting to see if I wanted Duncan to stay or not. That simple gesture made me tear up.

  “Mattie?” JoHanna stepped forward.

  I laughed, letting the tears run down my cheeks. “You’re waiting for me to decide what I want. It just touched me.” I laughed, and Duncan and JoHanna joined in. “I’d love to play cards with Duncan.” I looked up, brushing the wetness from my cheeks with the back of my hand. “And I’d love a piece of that cake and some coffee.”

  “Well I think we can handle that order,” JoHanna said. “I’ll get the cards first.”

  She disappeared from the doorway, and Duncan gave me a serious look. “I really like Mr. Lassiter,” she said. “I got Floyd to bring me by your room before he went fishing, but you were asleep. I was going to tell you my dream.”

  “I heard.”

  She looked down at the cream-colored chenille bedspread, her fingers picking tufts of the pattern. “I think he listened.” She looked up, her brown eyes dazed and lost looking. “Sometimes, since the lightning, I can feel colors.”

  I put my hand on hers as it had fallen motionless on the spread. “What do you mean, Duncan?” I wasn’t certain I wanted to know, but she’d decided to tell me.

  “I feel them. Like hot and cold, only more.”

  “More how?”

  “Like Floyd took me out in the woods and we found this wildflower. It was so blue that it made me ache. I felt as if my heart were breaking in two.”

  She was completely sincere. A little girl slightly afraid of the power of her senses.

  “Has that ever happened to you?” she asked.

  “No.” I tried to remember, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything like that.

  “I saw a cardinal out the window day before yesterday. He was going from the clothesline to the chinaberry tree and then down into the yard to mess with Pecos.” She grinned. “Sometimes other birds mess with him because he’s not certain he’s a rooster.”

  “Where is Pecos?”

  “Aunt Sadie doesn’t like him in the house. He’s out under the porch, but I’ll get him inside by tonight.”

  “What about the cardinal?” I was strangely compelled to hear this. Outside there came a burst of laughter, men working on the river. The echo had that wavery sound of being cast back from water.

  “That’s Mr. Lassiter’s men. He has six or seven camps in the woods cutting the trees and getting them together. Then he has men who float them down to Pascagoula.” Her smile slowly faded. “Anyway, the c
ardinal was out there, and I was watching him. Suddenly it was like the rest of the world lost color. There was the bird, and the red was so red that I could feel the bird’s heart beating. He was too red to live long. His heart beat so fast. And I started to cry because he was so beautiful and born to die so soon.” Her eyes had filled even as she talked.

  “And this color thing has happened to you before?”

  “Since the lightning. I have to be alone, and …”

  “And what?”

  “It’s like it feels wonderful, but it hurts so much, too.” There was a question on her face. “At first, the color feels like … like all the joy in the world is inside my chest. It’s that way for just a few seconds, and then the pain comes.” She looked at me as if she expected an answer.

  “I don’t know, Duncan. Can you stop it?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to.”

  I heard JoHanna moving in the kitchen, the rattle of dishes. She was fixing my cake for me. “What does JoHanna say?”

  Duncan looked down at the spread and picked once again at the tufts of creamy fabric. “She says that in life pleasure and pain are twins. One comes, but the other is never far behind.” She looked up at me. “She said to experience feeling intensely is a gift, but that I have to learn when to feel, that I have to learn to guard myself.” She took a deep breath. “Because, she said that if I don’t protect myself I’ll become afraid to feel, and that I’ll die by degrees.”

  I could hardly believe that JoHanna had told Duncan such a thing, but I saw it plain on Duncan’s face. She was frightened, and it scared me. “It’s always good to guard yourself.” I tried to pick a path through emotions and fears I didn’t understand. What was JoHanna trying to warn her daughter of?

  “Mattie, have you ever been afraid of your feelings?”

  Yes, oh, yes. I caught a shimmer of the night in New Orleans. My shame had almost killed me. I was afraid. Of Elikah and what he had done to me, but also of myself. Of what I had become capable of. Duncan was watching me with such intensity that I knew I didn’t have to answer. She saw it on my face. “Duncan, I think maybe it’s other people’s actions you have to guard against.” I faltered. “The colors you feel are pure. That’s you. If you feel that … completely about others, you put yourself at risk.” I wasn’t certain I was helping. Either of us. I heard JoHanna’s footsteps and felt an immense relief. I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to think of Elikah. I shifted in the bed to a better sitting position and I felt his mark all over me. I could not escape him, but I would not bring him into this day, this morning, this moment with the sun shining out the window and slanting across the bed. “Here’s your mother.”