Thing With Feathers (9781616634704)

by Sweazy-kulju, Anne

  “Wyatt, put down that paper!”

  He neatly folded his paper so as not to lose his place and raised his eyebrows at his wife across the plank table. “What is it, Mother?” He had begun addressing her by the familiar name since the day of their first son’s birth.

  “What do you suppose has gotten into Sean? He’s not called on Rebecca one time this week. And he seems to be spending an awful lot of his time with the Bowman girl. That boy worries me, Wyatt.”

  “Well now, Mother, I reckon Sean’s right about one thing, and that is we need to recognize he is not a boy any longer. I’d taken my wife by the age he is now, had my profession picked out too,” he added with just a sprinkle of disdain. “He may be a might slow in choosing, but it’s his business, Mother. I think we ought’a not speculate too much about his courtships. Maybe he changed his mind about Rebecca. Ain’t none of our business.”

  “It is our business, Wyatt. I distinctly felt the Preacher Bowman was a might displeased with the attention our son has been bestowing on his daughter.”

  “Well, we don’t want to be offending anyone so close to royalty as the Preacher Bowman,” Wyatt tried with humor, only to be met with a glare that could light a hurricane lamp. “Oh, Mother, stop your worrying. That poor Blair Bowman could use some attention from a nice b—man, like our son. Something’s terrible odd about that girl. Preacher’s not up to the task of raisin’ that downhearted child without a mama. She needs more of a family than she’s got with him.”

  Mavis started to object.

  He rushed on. “I might as well be struck down for saying it, but I think there’s something not quite square up there,” he said, tapping his forehead, “with the good preacher himself.”

  Wyatt Marshall was actually minimizing what he truly thought of Preacher Bowman, but he would never say such a thing within earshot of his wife, knowing how she revered the church. Wyatt suspected that his wife didn’t so much like the preacher as she liked the idea of being close to a man who was close to God, close enough to gain herself, and the rest of them, a private ladder to heaven. He smiled to himself. He never faulted his wife for all her pretensions. She was a good-hearted woman, and he loved her.

  “They’re an odd couple,” were his final words on the subject.

  He shook his head and went back to his paper. Wyatt Marshall could not possibly know how close to the truth his statement was.

  Chapter 9

  They played mah-jongg in the parlor. It was cooler that day, like ordinary March weather on Oregon’s coast. Rebecca was being cool too and giving him the silent treatment.

  “That’s a good book.” He gestured toward the well-handled copy of Elmer Gantry that was lying on the floor at Rebecca’s feet. “I sure like Sinclair Lewis.”

  “Seems I’ve had a little extra time on my hands this week and not much to do with it but for reading.” Rebecca looked up at Sean pointedly.

  She wanted to stay mad at him, but one look at his handsome face smiling at her and her irritation just melted away. He was not large, but neither was he small. His muscles were firm and chiseled from farm work. Along with his high cheekbones and good, strong chin, his form could have been hewn by a talented sculptor out of a mighty spruce. His smile always reached up into his clear green eyes, as it did then. Whenever he’d shrug and lift his brows and wag his head from side to side with that lopish smile of his, as if to say, “please put up with me even if I am an idiot,” Rebecca’s heart would flip. She knew she would forgive him again, so what was the point of staying mad? Sean couldn’t help himself from getting carried away with that camera of his. And it was just a camera, after all. It wasn’t as though she was competing for him against another woman. She smiled back.

  “Yeah, I have been kind of busy this week.”

  “Taking pictures, I ‘spect?”

  “Lots of pictures, yeah…Blair Bowman’s been helping me. You know, modeling sort of, to help me with the natural light and such.”

  “Blair?” Rebecca looked him right in the eyes, and then she had to look away quickly. She saw something there. He was lost to her. Blair Bowman? Rebecca wished she could hate the girl, but it wasn’t possible. Blair was to be pitied. Many townsfolk speculated on the quality of that poor girl’s life. But if Blair captured Sean’s heart, she would soon be the luckiest girl in Nestucca Valley. And did she capture Sean’s heart? Well, that was what I thought I saw in my sweetheart’s eyes, wasn’t it?

  “Rebecca…Rebecca, I don’t expect you to understand, and I know you should hate me for this…I wish I could tell you why I’m doin’ it, but—”

  “I don’t hate you, Sean.” Rebecca’s eyes betrayed her by spilling over with tears. She willed herself to stop as she stared at the game board pieces, but they grew all blurry, and then she could feel hot tears on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, Rebecca. You know…I love you.” Then it was Sean’s turn to look away, his eyes watering.

  “Then why?” Her voice cracked with pain.

  “I can’t say. If I told why, then it wouldn’t be a selfless act. I mean…I’ve already said too much, Rebecca. I’m sorry, I…I just can’t tell you why.” He reached for her hand across the game table and gave it a light squeeze. “But…I’m going to ask Blair to marry me.”

  One audible sob was all. Sean could not hear how he had broken Rebecca’s heart, but he could see. Her tears dripped onto the wooden board. He looked back at her through tears of his own and could see her slight shoulders shaking beneath her long, yellow hair. He got up from his chair and pulled her up to him and held her close as she cried. Sean stroked her hair and whispered to her that it would be all right, that they were doing the right thing. He promised her that someday they would both be rewarded for ending their love. She looked up once, questioningly, and then embraced him hard. Sean was such a good man. He surely had his reasons, and Rebecca didn’t for an instant believe that it was because he had suddenly fallen in love with Blair Bowman. Though Blair was undeniably beautiful, Rebecca knew that Sean loved her.

  Then why? she kept asking herself. Rebecca began listening with her own heart. Sean’s reason must be honorable. He’d said “selfless act.” Did he mean sacrificial? Didn’t he just tell me he loved me? Didn’t he say it was the right thing to end our romance?

  She unwrapped her arms from his shoulders and took a step back. Slowly, she lifted her head and smiled at him through her tears. “I won’t ever ask you why again, Sean. I trust that your reasons must be good ones. Will you still be my best friend?” Her voice broke with the torture.

  “I pray it with all my heart, Rebecca.” He held her to him again, fiercely, unready to let her go.

  Chapter 10

  The clanging of the dinner bell reached all corners of the two-hundred-acre homestead. The Marshall men and all the farm hands immediately dropped what they were doing and headed for the large, warm kitchen that was sure to provide a bounty of hearty dishes for Mavis Marshall’s hungry men. Sean was the last one in the door. He took his seat across from his mother, beside his brother, Will, neither commenting on the wonderful smells coming from the roasted chickens nor lifting his head to acknowledge the presence of the others.

  Mavis Marshall exchanged a look with her husband, who sternly shook his head no so that his wife would not pester Sean. Mavis snapped her napkin open and exaggeratedly placed it in her lap, trying to get her young son’s attention. Finally, Wyatt Marshall cleared his throat. Everyone bowed their heads and folded their hands in front of them. Their growling stomachs were eager for someone to say grace so they could dig into the bounty of delicious-smelling foods before them.

  “Sean, will you say grace for us?”

  Sean thanked the Lord a might quickly, and while that was just fine with the other men at the table, Mavis was clearly displeased. Everyone began reaching for and passing around bowls of early garden peas
, mashed potatoes and turnips with gravy, platters of roasted bird and buttermilk biscuits, fresh beets, and some of Mavis’ treasured golden russet apples that she cooked with brown sugar and cinnamon. Two enameled pots holding strong, black coffee were placed at either end of the long-planked table. Once everyone had served himself or herself and the table noise quieted down, it became obvious to all that Sean was upset about something.

  One of the farm hands who bunked in Sean’s room, Johnny Arthur, threw a biscuit at Sean’s head. “Hey, wake up. Been spending too much time with the ladies, Sean? Pretty Rebecca tire you out today?”

  Sean picked the biscuit up off the floor and put it on his plate. Nothing went to waste in Mavis Marshall’s kitchen. “Just not feeling well,” he answered by way of explanation.

  “Well, son, what do you suppose is wrong with you? Still some of that stomach trouble?” Wyatt reached over and placed his hand atop his son’s.

  Sean withdrew his hand from the table. “Naw. I’m okay, Pa. I just been doin’ a lot of thinking, an’ I’m kind of tired is all. Been thinking about what you an’ Ma said about learning myself a real profession. Engineering interests me. I’d like to go to the college in the valley and learn to be an engineer of the surveying sort.” He looked up into the surprised faces of his parents.

  “That’s wonderful, Sean,” his mother answered guardedly. To her husband, she asked, “Can we afford it, Wyatt?”

  “I suppose if we have another good year, we could manage it. How ‘bout it, gentlemen? Can we have a good enough year so that Sean here can go to college?”

  “Ya mean so we don’t have to spend another dinner looking at his hang-dogged face? I’ll work double hard, Pa.” His brother, Will, ribbed him.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Marshall,” said another hand.

  Sean irritably shrugged his brother off.

  “I’m sorry, Sean. I was just kidding around. Means that much to ya, we’ll all work extra hard so you can go.” Will patted him lightly on the back.

  He knew that his brother had no interest in the farm. Some men were not meant to be dairy farmers. A job like that you had to love, and it just wasn’t for Sean, not that Sean didn’t work hard. On the contrary, Sean got up earlier than anyone and was always last in from the fields. And he worked hard while he was at it. That way, he didn’t have to feel guilty about spending time with his photography hobby. No one else really understood Sean’s passion for the camera or believed he’d ever make a living with it. But it was Sean’s life, and if he wanted to work like an ox so he could enjoy a hobby, there wasn’t anyone who faulted him for it.

  “Sorry, Will.” Sean looked over at his older brother. “Just got a lot on my mind is all. I know you all are just having some fun with me.”

  “Not much!” Johnny Arthur chimed in, which made everyone laugh.

  “That’s okay, little brother.” Will laughed. “Here. Have another biscuit.”

  He dunked that one in gravy and grabbed his brother by the neck to shove it in his face. The two brothers wrestled right out of their chairs and brawled harmlessly on the floor.

  Mavis watched her own biscuit in earnest as she buttered it, deliberately ignoring the scuffle between her sons. Wyatt passed the potatoes around again, glad that things were back to normal.

  Chapter 11

  April 1928

  Cloverdale, Oregon

  She slipped quietly from between rough blankets and tiptoed into the water closet. As soon as the door was closed and latched, she lifted her nightie and looked anxiously between her legs. She was immediately assaulted by the familiar musty smell of her father. She grabbed a cloth and dampened it in the basin, rubbing coarse soap softened with lavender oil into the washcloth before using it to make her body clean again.

  Will it ever be clean again? she wondered.

  All the soap and lavender oil in the county wouldn’t make you clean, Blair. He’s made you filthy. He’s a pig, and so are you for letting him do those filthy things to you!

  But I don’t let him! Blair pleaded with her sanity. He…rapes…me!

  She withdrew her hand from under her cotton night dress. Much to her dismay, the white cloth was still white. How many days have I repeated this routine? She was unsure, but enough days that Blair knew she should have had blood by now, enough days that panic sprouted. Yesterday at the schoolhouse, Priscilla Mason had told her that “grandma was visiting,” when Blair had asked why she grabbed her stomach so. That was Priscilla’s way of saying she was having her menses. Blair remembered that she was usually over her time before Priscilla’s began. Miss Joseph had told the girls that cessation of menses indicated pregnancy. She’d promised them that the day menstruation ceased would surely be the happiest day of their married lives, for it meant the bringing of a new life into the world.

  I’ll bet Miss Joseph doesn’t know it’s going to happen to you, Blair! I bet Miss Joseph wouldn’t think it so happy a day if she knew it was because you’d bedded your father!

  Blair threw her hands to her ears as if that could stop the voice from within. It was a terrible and obtrusive voice, and it grew louder with the passing of each new day. Blair leaned over the wash basin and vomited.

  The coffee pot lid rattled in the pot as Blair tried in vain to stop her shaking. She poured her father’s cup and splashed just a few drops of the boiling brew over his poised hand. Blair screamed when her father jumped up. She ran to the sink for a towel.

  “Damnation, child! What has gotten in to you?”

  Blair started to say something, but no words would come out. She stood at the sink, facing him, her eyes wide and her mouth frozen, and then she just began to cry. As her father looked on in confusion, her crying grew louder and bordered on hysteria. The preacher walked over and very casually slapped her hard across the cheek. Blair’s legs grew weak at what she suspected would follow next, and she fell to the floor in a bawling heap. Preacher Bowman just stood over her, wondering what it was all about.

  “I think…Father…I’m pregnant.”

  He reached down and turned her face up to his. He stared at her for many seconds. “By Gosh, Blair! I believe you might be!”

  It was Blair’s turn to be confused. She thought she would surely receive a beating for allowing such a thing to happen. But her father did not appear angry at all. He looked as though he were actually happy. He was smiling at her. He picked her up gently in his arms and rested her in his most comfortable chair. Then he fetched some milk and apples for her and urged her to eat.

  “You must stay healthy, Blair. You have a child to consider now.”

  He is actually doting on me, Blair marveled.

  “A son! I know it will be a boy!” He started slicing the apple into pieces for her. He could not seem to stand still.

  “But, Father…” Blair was appalled. “I can’t have…what will people think of us? I can’t stay here. I thought perhaps you would send me to Aunt Mary in Indiana or take me to one of those city doctors. I’ve…I’ve heard they can…rid a woman—”

  “Never!” The preacher turned red as a rooster’s comb. “This was God’s plan all along, Blair. Can you not see that? You are such a foolish girl. Drink your milk!” And with that, the preacher stormed out the back door, letting it slam behind him.

  Blair always hung the wash down by the river. A few feet back from the water’s edge, there were two fairly straight Alder trees, ten feet apart, from which she had strung line to hold the wash. As she bent over the wringer, she placed her left hand over her middle and rested it there, feeling only the slightest swelling to her firm abdomen. But it wasn’t her belly that told Blair she was pregnant. Rather, it was something else her hand felt. No. That wasn’t right. It was something her heart felt through her hand. There was no doubt in her mind at all.

  When Sean came out of the trees into the clearing, that was how
he found Blair. She had one hand over her stomach, the other on the handle of the wringer, and her eyes focused on some distant horizon. She did not hear him softly call her name as he approached, so as not to startle her that time; and when he came up beside her and carefully put his hand on her shoulder, she whipped her head around, startling them both.

  “Boy, I’m sorry, Blair. You were really concentrating on something, I guess. I gave a holler this time. I swear I was not trying to sneak up on you. Is everything all right?” He truly looked concerned for her.

  “I’m fine,” she said shortly and went back to turning the handle as though he were not there.

  “Can I help you with that? I mean, I know a thing about doing wash. I help my ma all the time. I don’t think anything so strenuous should be called women’s work, do you?”

  “Huh?” She was far off again.

  “Blair, let me do that for ya. Are you sure you’re okay?” Sean carefully pushed her aside and started in.

  She did not answer right away. She walked a few feet closer to the water and sat down on a large stump.

  Talk to him, you idiot, the inner voice told her. In case you have not thought this through yet, he is freedom. Blair, he is our way out.

  “Huh?” she asked aloud.

  “Did you say something, Blair?”

  She turned around to look at him, really seeing him for the first time. He was awful handsome and was always so nice to her. She wondered why. She knew she wasn’t very pretty, and she knew that people in town thought her odd. The Marshall family had money, stature, and good looks.