by Noelle Carle
“What, Esther? What are you saying?”
“Momma’s dead. She’s dead. My momma is dead!”
Instinctively Alison pulled Esther closer in, as her body went cold. Stunned, she gasped then she choked out, “No! What happened?”
But Esther was unable to answer as she dissolved into sobs that seemed to strangle her. Her body shook with them. They sat on the steps for a time, frozen in shock, until Mrs. Reid came out and almost fell over them.
“What on earth?” She knelt to look at them. “Whatever is wrong?”
Alison didn’t realize that she herself was crying until she tried to explain. Mary Reid closed her eyes and seemed to shrink inside herself. “Oh, no, no, no,” she moaned. She sat down beside them, her hand across her mouth and her skin like the wintery sky. Rain started then, pouring down in sheets. Mrs. Reid straightened and took an arm of each girl. “Come on then. We can’t be sitting out in this weather. Let’s go home, Esther, and see what’s to be done.”
The icy rain beat against them as they pushed their way up the long hill. Alison and their teacher gripped Esther between them. Alison couldn’t tell if she had stopped crying because of the rain, but Esther seemed to walk without seeing, stumbling over every rock or hummock in their path. Her face was pale, shock pulling her features into a tight mask.
Alison could not fathom that what Esther had said was true. Her insides were quaking. Tears still coursed down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.
Aubrey Newell was huddled on the porch outside. Brute lay beside him and his tail thumped languidly when they rushed up the steps. When Mrs. Reid urged Aubrey to come inside, he shook his head mutely. His look said plainly that he’d rather brave the elements than be inside the house.
The usually active home was alarmingly still. The kitchen was smoky from food left forgotten on the stove. Reg Eliot sat in the rocker by the stove, holding little Caroline, who was sound asleep. Sam was nowhere in sight. Mrs. Reid hurried to remove her coat, and then knelt by the rocker. “Reg. I just heard. I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.”
His face remained taut, as if one movement would let loose an avalanche of feelings. He looked beyond Mary to his daughter. “Esther,” he said, his eyes studying her ravaged face. “Take the baby to bed. Then you lay down too.” He rose. Turning over the sleeping child to Esther, he sighed, his voice catching. “Mary, I can’t even think what’s to be done.” His arms hung loosely at his sides.
She went to him and drew him close, tears now pouring down her own face. “Have you eaten today?” she questioned in a broken voice, while pulling away and wiping her cheeks.
He shook his head. Then he seemed to notice Alison standing there. “You can go on up, Allie, deah. Your father’s up there, making…getting…” his voice faltered then and he looked away.
Alison turned for the staircase. After making her way up the stairs, she moved along the dim hallway. She heard her father’s voice behind a closed door. She tapped on it. Aunt Pearl opened it and peered out at her, her eyes red-rimmed. “Allie,” she breathed. “Come in.” Then she seemed to hesitate. “If you want to,” she added.
Alison said, “Of course I want to!” But she realized that her breathing was uneven and there was an odd feeling in her head, as if it were floating above her. The room was warm, redolent with the smell of sweat and the unmistakable steely odor of blood. Her father was bending over the other side of the bed, examining the body of a tiny infant.
“Oh, what happened?” she breathed. She knelt on the other side, looking at Olivia Eliot. It hurt her to see her so still. Her warm brown eyes were forever closed, her velvet skin had lost all color and her pale blonde hair still clung to her neck in damp tendrils where Aunt Pearl had bathed her. A blanket covered her, but Alison hadn’t failed to notice the bloody sheets and towels piled in a basket by the door.
Alison stroked Olivia’s cheek with the tips of her fingers, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. All her odd feelings evaporated. “Papa?” she questioned through her tears, calling him by her childhood name for him.
He was wrapping up the baby in a clean towel as he spoke. “She suffered from premature labor, complicated by the afterbirth, the placenta,” he always tried to use the proper medical terms, “being in the wrong place.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was delivered first, resulting in massive hemorrhaging and…” he lifted the tiny blue infant, “loss of blood supply to the little boy.” He sighed, peering at Pearl over his glasses. “We couldn’t stop the bleeding.” The doctor laid the baby by its mother and stood gazing at them for long moments. Knowing how it tore at him to lose both a friend and a patient, and in this way, so like his own wife, Pearl moved and stood beside him and quietly took his hand. “What a terrible loss,” he whispered. Pearl hugged him closely and Alison saw his shoulders shake for a moment until he composed himself. He swallowed and moved across the room, stopping to lay his hand on Alison‘s cheek. The sorrow in his shimmering eyes mirrored her own. He was clearly struggling as left the room. “I’ll go get the buggy,” he said to his sister, lifting the bundle of dirty linens. He knew Pearl would try to clean them, but some of them would best be burned.
“Aunt Pearl, would you please explain this to me. I don’t understand how this happened.”
Her aunt said listlessly, her voice muddy with tears, “We can talk about it later,” then descended the stairs, leaving Alison to follow. She moved down to the next room where she knew Esther would be.
Her friend was lying curled up on one of the four beds, but she lifted her head when Alison carefully opened the door. “I’m so worried about Sam, “she said. “When your father came down to tell us about Mother, he just jumped up from the table and ran out.”
Alison put her arm across her friend’s shoulders. She felt Esther trembling as she leaned to whisper in her ear, “I’ll find him.”
“I’d say take Brute with you but he can hardly walk anymore. He’s going to die too, I just know it!”
“Oh, Esther, don’t!” Alison commiserated. “You can’t think about that now.”
“Sam’s cold, and he’s hurt,” Esther said, crying again. “I can feel it.”
Alison nodded. “Of course he is, just like you. I’m so sorry, Esther. Will you be…?” Then her voice died away. She realized that her friend wouldn’t be all right for a long time.
With a slight shrug Esther laid back down, looking over at Caroline who lay sleeping in the next bed. “I wish I could be like her,” she said hopelessly. She pushed her hair off her forehead and closed her eyes. Slow tears seeped down her cheeks.
Alison kissed her and rose, wondering not for the first time at the bond Esther and Sam shared. Esther shared the Eliot looks with her nine siblings– blonde hair, brown eyes, a broad forehead and high cheekbones. In her these features were softened by long lashes, an expressive wide smile and an awareness and compassion that showed every emotion she felt, unlike Sam who maintained a stoic exterior like his father. But they were alike in all else. They both shouldered the care of their many younger siblings with cheerful responsibility; they adored their mother, respected and feared their father, were strong, lithe and tanned. They were closer to one another than to anyone else, despite Sam being thirteen months older. They had a connection that mystified Alison. She remembered a time when Sam was out fishing and got pulled into the water after getting caught in the bait lines. He was barely rescued from drowning by his father. Esther, without knowing what had happened, felt ill all day and fretted until they got home. She knew his moods, interpreted his behavior and served as a spokesman for the pair. They weren’t twins, but they might well have been.
Her aunt was waiting downstairs, while Doctor Granger fetched the buggy. Mrs. Reid was putting on her coat, too. “I’ll notify the minister, and send these telegrams at Coopers. Some of the kids can stay with me, Reg, and I’m sure Esther won’t mind keeping the rest.”
Reg Eliot shook his head, his lean fac
e taut as he emphasized, “I want ‘em home - all of ‘em. You tell Cleo.”
The teacher nodded, sighing shakily. Reg added, as if remembering to be civil, “I thank you.” His gaze skimmed across the room, his dark eyes brimming with tears. “Allie, ask Aubrey out there where Sam run off to. I need him home.”
With a nod, Alison slipped out into the gusty wind where Aubrey was still hunkered down, sitting on an old bait barrel. “Did you see Sam, Aubrey? Which way did he head?” she yelled over the wind.
Aubrey raised his head and studied her for a long moment without answering.
“Did you see him?” she prompted, stepping closer, her voice rising higher in frustration.
A slow smile creased Aubrey’s face. “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.”
Without a thought, Alison stepped forward and slapped him smartly. “That’s what I’ll give you,” she shouted.
Brute lifted his head, whining and Aubrey’s smile vanished. The door opened then and Pearl and Mrs. Reid hurried out as the buggy pulled up by the steps. “Come on, lovey,” her father barked from the seat of the buggy.
Alison raised her eyebrows in question to Aubrey. “Well?” she demanded.
With a nod toward the village, Aubrey said, “He went down the hill…lovey.” His eyes followed Alison as she ran down the steps and across to the buggy. He rubbed his cheek and his smile returned.
Chapter Four
Our Hearts Shall Beat in Unison
As they rattled down the hill in the buggy Alison told her father she needed to be let off in the village. “I’ve got to look for Sam.”
“It’s getting too cold,” her father protested grimly. “You’ll freeze without a coat on.” When she left for school in the morning, her sweater had been sufficient, but the temperature had fallen as the daylight waned.
“When you let me off, Dr. Granger, I’ll get one of my wraps. She can use it,” Mary Reid told him.
The wind had broken off branches throughout the day and they littered the road. Through the line of trees Alison could hear the rote of waves, less forceful now with the tide out. Alison was shivering in the cold rain, but her thoughts were only for Sam.
When they were younger, the village kids used to play at an old fort on the headland at the top of the hill past Eliot’s. It was crumbling down, having been erected before the Revolution. Half of it was missing where its bricks and timber had been carried off for local construction. Three years ago their classmate, Chester Gilman, got a concussion when he fell off a stairway portion during a playful but vigorous reenactment of the battle of Waterloo. Since then the kids were forbidden to play there. Not only were their parents vigilant about keeping them away, with poor Chester’s head held up as an example, but also the local historical society patrolled the grounds for disturbances or vandalism. Still, young people went up there. It afforded a panoramic view of the harbor from a peaceful, serene place. Alison knew Sam went there often to get away from the clamor of his family. Yet Aubrey said he went down the hill, not up.
Alison was relieved. To get to the fort she’d have to cross through the Eliot’s thicket of woods, which she always thought of as the forest primeval. Bears were seen there on occasion, along with coyotes and bobcats. Alison was afraid of those woods.
They drew up to Mrs. Reid’s house. Alison’s father jumped down and hurried around the buggy to help her down. “I’ll just run in and get my shawl,” she said to the doctor, then looked back at Alison. “Just a tick!”
Dr. Granger reached up and helped Alison out of the buggy. “I didn’t bring a lantern with me this morning,” he said. “See if you can borrow one from your teacher. It’ll be dark soon. How about if I send Owen back for you after a while?”
With a shrug she answered, “I don‘t know how long I‘ll be. I’ll walk home. Both Esther and Mr. Eliot asked if I’d look for him. I’m kind of worried now myself.”
“He’s had a bad shock today. People react in different ways.” He drew his daughter tenderly into his arms. “You’ve had a shock too.”
Alison nodded, feeling her tears begin again. She felt a sudden and fierce pain – a longing and a fear. She longed for her mother and feared she’d lose her father. She leaned into him as he hugged her.
Feeling Mrs. Reid drape a large heavy shawl over her shoulders, she drew away from her father. “Oh, this is good!” she said, wrapping it across her chest and holding it tightly against her body. “Thank you.”
“Ta. Now here’s another blanket too, in case you find your young man and he’s run off without a coat. And I’ve brought you a light too. It’s coming on nightfall.”
“Thank you. You read my mind,” Dr. Granger told her with a grateful smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”
The rain slapped at them on a gust of wind and they all cringed. At an impatient movement from his sister waiting in the buggy, Alison‘s father said, “We must be going. See you at home, Allie. Good-bye, Mrs. Reid.” He scrambled up to the seat of the wagon and headed home.
“Where are you going to look?” Mary asked Alison as she held off the rain with an umbrella she had carried out. “He could be anywhere!”
Shaking her head, Alison spoke above the noise of the weather. “Maybe at the lighthouse or on the dock. Aubrey Newell said he ran down the hill.” The wind was carrying her voice away.
“Oh no, dear. Don’t try to go to the lighthouse in the dark.” The lighthouse on Old Bald Head stood on top of a high spit on the northern edge of Little Cove and it was accessible by a winding road over the rocks. Everyone knew the way, but also knew it was treacherous without a light. “I must get these telegrams over to Coopers. If I see you about when I come back, I’ll go with you.” She turned swiftly and started up the road, then yelled back. “Try the church, why don’t you, before you go anywhere else.”
The church was set back in a grove of trees near the school. As she headed that way, she thought about Mrs. Reid’s words: your young man. Was that how people saw them? Was that how she thought of him? She rolled these words through her mind as she trudged across a field and approached the dark building. There were no lights glowing through the windows, but, she reasoned, there wouldn’t be. Sam ran from the house while it was midday. “Please, Sam, be here,” she murmured as she tried the door. It swung open and she had to grab its edge before the wind pushed it back against the wall. She closed it carefully for it seemed wrong to make any noise in here. It was so silent. Alison drew in a slow breath, inhaling the familiar scent of old wood, slightly mildewed curtains and lemon oil. Reverend Whiting liked to light the candles sometimes, so there was a more subtle smell of candle wax and lamp oil.
Walking slowly through the cloakroom, Alison lifted her lamp high. The sanctuary was very dark, almost forbidding, made more so by a whisper of sound she could now hear after shutting the door. Someone was moving in the next room. Alison tiptoed in, even as she was thinking there could be no subterfuge with her lantern held up before her. Ahead of her there was no one, but off to the side was a darker shape. Turning, she recognized Sam, huddled in the pew furthest back, his arms crossed in front of him, leaning on his knees. His eyes had a startled squint and she lowered the lantern as she hurried over to his side.
“Here you are!” she sighed, then “Sam?” as he turned his face away and leaned his forehead on the seat in front of him.
Alison set the lantern on the floor, and slid in beside him, her heart thumping with alarm. She unfolded the blanket and spread it over his shoulders, which were shaking slightly. “You must be frozen,” she said in a low voice, her head next to his.
He made no movement or sound.
“Your father and Esther are worried about you,” she continued, her hand slipping across his shoulders. He tensed slightly, but didn’t draw away. “You just ran off…and they don’t know where you are.”
“They don’t want to see me,” he breathed in a low strangled voice.
Alison’s hand inched up the back of his neck and furt
her up into his thick blonde hair. This was how she comforted her younger brother Davey by rubbing his head and soothing his neck. But her own heart beat harder and the cords in his neck were hard and stiff under her cold hand.
“Of course they want you home. Why wouldn’t they?” she persisted, speaking softly.
He drew himself up straight and shook off her hand. The blanket slid off his back as he shrugged it off. “Because I killed her,” he cried, turning to grasp her shoulders. “Don’t you understand? It’s my fault!”
His words filled the room and seemed to echo over and over as Alison stared at him, shaking her head. The light from the lantern made shadows on his face, which looked ravaged and unfamiliar. He stared back at her, and then he seemed to crumble inside and his hands loosened, sliding down her arms. She picked up his hands and gripped them tightly as she asked, “Why do you think that? Because I know what happened to her, physically. No one could have stopped it or made it happen, for that matter.”
Confusion spread across his face as he answered. “I enlisted. I told them last night. I leave for training in two weeks and I heard her crying all night.” His voice broke. He started to pull away, but Alison put her hands onto either side of his face and drew him back until he was looking at her. In the lamplight his eyes shone with tears, and she swallowed back her own grief.
“My father told me what happened. The afterbirth came out first, and they couldn’t stop the bleeding. It was that way from the start, Sam. You couldn’t cause that.”
