Disappearances

by Linda Byler

  No answer. A log fell in the stove, the sparks pinging against the glass front.

  “What did I do wrong now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why do you hate me?”

  The word hate got his attention. It was a strong word, one he would never have chosen to describe his feelings toward his wife.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  What had happened? How had it come to this? That day when Nevaeh lay sick and dying in the snow, the jays screaming in the treetops, hadn’t her knees gone weak with … what? His perfect mouth, that cat-like grace with which he jumped down from the cattle truck. Could she ever remember that feeling? Here was this same person, the perfect mouth in a pout of self-pity, slumped dejectedly in his lair, that same recliner he always slouched in when he was in a bad mood.

  Was love meant to be this way? Was it truly all her fault? She knew firsthand what it felt like to be heartsick. She was shaken when Mark sat up quite suddenly, slapped down the footrest of the recliner, grabbed the armrests but stayed seated. His face changed color as he spoke. Why did she remember the color of his anger when the words pelted painfully in a hailstorm of hurt?

  “It’s all about you, Sadie! You and Paris. You and Tim. You and Anna. That’s all you care about. I mean tomato soup one evening, Cheerios the next. You don’t care how my day went, you don’t even ask. Tonight, when you talked to Tim, you were happier than you’ve been with me in weeks! You don’t care that I come home from work with my back aching from shoeing horses, you’re too worried about Paris or Anna or Tim. You don’t love me; you never did.”

  Somehow Sadie could picture her spirit being hit by a flying object, blown off course, righting itself, and continuing.

  “Mark, that is simply not true. How am I supposed to smile and talk animatedly at length with a person who is always blind to anything or anyone other than himself? You walk around the house like an angry wolf, and in plain words, I’m scared of you. All right, I confess. I have spent too much time with Paris, and I do worry about Anna. But … ”

  Suddenly she burst out. “How in the world would you ever cope if we had a baby? Babies take much more time than Paris ever did.”

  “Maybe that’s why we don’t have one. You don’t want a baby as long as you have Paris.”

  Sadie’s mouth literally fell open in disbelief.

  “Mark! Are you … jealous of Paris?”

  There was no answer as he wrestled visibly with his pride. Sadie sat back, watched Mark’s face. When he lowered it into his hands, she held her breath. Muffled now, his words came from beneath his fingers.

  “Sadie, I’m jealous of everything and everybody around you.”

  His words tumbled over each other then, dark muddy waters that crashed around rocks, assaulting her ears. Pain of his past. A mother who chose to leave with a stranger rather than care for her children. Always, he searched for her love. If he found a tiny morsel, it evaporated the minute she left him alone with five hungry siblings, the responsibility a life-sucking parasite he could never get rid of.

  Now, if he loved Sadie and she did not return it, the only thing that kept the monster of failure at bay was his anger. Anger slashed through failure and disappointment. It made people do what you wanted them to. If he got no respect or attention, if Sadie didn’t act the way he thought she should, anger brought her around. It made her submit. So he lifted his dagger of anger and everyone straightened up, including himself. He didn’t have to be afraid of responsibility. Of feeling unloved.

  Through his volley of words, Sadie shook her head repeatedly, completely incredulous. How could she explain? She understood, then, a vital part of living with Mark. He did not have the solid foundation of two parents’ love for a child. Instead he’d been left alone in a cold, filthy house with his needy, hungry brothers and sisters, watching his mother leave, succumbing to the terror of responsibility and never being enough. Having to put cherry Jell-o in Tim’s bottle instead of good, wholesome milk that a loving mother warmed in a saucepan.

  When Sadie talked and cared for others around her, he felt left out and wrestled with falling down a deep dark hole of discrepancy. The Cheerios. Cherry Jell-o. How could she be so blind to his unending sense of loss and inadequacy?

  But he had been okay with it. Said he wasn’t hungry. He had even smiled. She had offered a grilled cheese sandwich. He waved her away, and she was glad, ran to the barn, grateful. But … inside, he was churning with resentment. It was her turn then.

  She apologized for any wrong she had done, but warned him that using anger as a means of controlling her would not work. Yes, she was afraid of his pouting, more than she could ever explain. And, yes, it made her submit to him, but more out of fear than anything else, which in the end brought loathing.

  “You know, Mark, when you lie in that recliner and pout, what I really want to do is hit you over the head with a broom and seriously knock some sense into you. But I have to realize, you’re not normal.”

  Mark snorted, asked her what she meant by that remark, and she told him. The fat was in the fire now, she said, and kept right on going. A good hard thunderstorm clears the oppressive heat in summertime, and so a good long talk does the same in a relationship. They ended up at the kitchen table, dipping cold soft pretzels in congealed cheese sauce, making sandwiches of deer bologna, mayonnaise, bread and butter pickles, and onion, drinking the rest of the sweet tea, and talking some more.

  They talked longer than they ever had. The clock struck midnight, the moon began its descent down the star-studded night sky, casting rectangles of ghostly light across the rugs on the oak floor, and still they talked.

  Mark told her the worst part of his life was trying to overcome it, which clicked in Sadie’s understanding. Excitedly, she told him maybe that was his whole problem. He couldn’t give up. But he had to give up and accept his childhood. Stop trying to get away from it.

  It had happened, through no fault of his own. Why God chose to single out one small boy to suffer in such a harsh way they could never know. God’s ways weren’t their ways. He could not blame other people now. Yes, they had done wrong. But it was over, in the past, and they were in God’s hands. Not in Mark’s hands. The past was over, as soon as he accepted it.

  Tomorrow was Saturday, and they could sleep in. Sadie had a long, hot shower sometime after one o’clock, while Mark put logs on the fire, checked on Paris, and locked the doors.

  As Sadie covered herself with the heavy quilts, her whole body ached with fatigue. It had been a long day, scrubbing floors with Erma Keim, having her parents visit, but far above all of it, she had the opportunity of taking a giant leap in the journey of understanding her husband.

  When he came to bed, she asked him if he thought Tim would ever fall in love with Anna. When he laughed and said Tim had already fallen so hard he’d never get over it, Mark took Sadie in his arms and told her he knew the first time he saw her he couldn’t live without her. It was like God’s hand came down and used an enormous eraser, obliterating every hurt that had ever been between them. The beauty of a relationship was not in the outward show, but in transforming the dark valleys to new heights of joy and love, brought about by the ability to forgive.

  Chapter 20

  THEY DROVE TRUMAN TO Sadie’s parents’ house after a late breakfast, their necks craning to find the secret enclosure containing the horses. At one point Sadie thought she saw a pair of tracks but couldn’t be sure.

  They unhitched the horse, and Sadie slipped and slid along the walkway to the house, scolding Dat for his lack of work shoveling the sidewalk. She could have fallen. Wasn’t he ever going to improve? He laughed as Mam welcomed her warmly, reminding her what a treat this was, being with her last evening, and here she was again!

  “Can I go along to see the horses?”

  “Guess you can ask Dat. Or Mark.”

  As it was, they all piled into the buggy to drive to the location. Reuben was acting as if he was the town hero u
ntil Anna told him to get down off his high horse. He was acting like a banty rooster.

  There was no doubt about it—Reuben was on to something. When they followed him down the side of the ridge, over the creek, and up the adjacent hill, Sadie’s heart was pounding more from excitement than the strenuous climb.

  She watched Anna’s face, afraid she would not be able to make it in her weakened condition. But there was a healthy flush in her face, her eyes were bright with excitement, and her gloved hand slid guiltily out of Tim’s when Sadie turned to look at her.

  And then she saw them. It was a concentration camp for horses. It was a scene of deprivation, heartlessness, and just plain cruelty. The horses stood in their long shaggy coats, pitiful sentries of death, calmly awaiting its arrival. Some of them milled about, snuffling the snow, lipping it as if it were nutritious.

  They made their way down slowly. A cloud of disbelief led them over the fallen logs and debris. How long had these horses been here? How many horses had come and gone since this lean-to had been erected?

  No one spoke at first as they absorbed the sadness. It was the same as when Nevaeh was sick. What broke Sadie’s heart entirely was the calm acceptance of these animals, the way they patiently endured the hardships men inflicted on them. They existed in this squalor and neglect, living in the only way they knew how, to be obedient, grateful for the few bales of hay thrown to them on an irregular basis.

  Dat spoke then. “It’s enough to make you sick.”

  Reuben was talking, talking, but the words faded for Sadie. She saw the rib cages, the jutting hipbones, the poor bleeding feet, and then knew she was going to fall into the snow in a completely uncharacteristic faint.

  The cold of the snow was a rude awakening. Mark bent over her, calling her name. Dat assured him it was all right, she’d come to. He could believe this was too much for Sadie, the way she loved horses and all.

  Tim leaned on the heavy steel gate, extended a hand, but the horses kept their distance, the whites of their eyes showing their fear.

  Anna yelped, pointed with a shaking, gloved finger. “There … beside the fence,” she said softly.

  They all turned to look and saw the gory sight of a freshly ravaged carcass, the bones protruding from the mass of unchewed flesh where the carnivores had eaten their fill, leaving the remains for a later snack.

  Nausea overtook Sadie, and she stepped aside to deposit her breakfast neatly into the snow. A hand patted her back, and Anna said dryly, “I stopped doing that. Don’t you start now.”

  Sadie wiped her mouth, then smiled. “I wasn’t planning on following your example.”

  Mark was very attentive, searching her eyes, asking her if she was sure she could walk back to the buggy. She assured him everything was fine, but for the remainder of their stay she sat on a bale of hay and refused to look at the horses.

  Anna sat beside her. “I quit cutsing (throwing up).”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, I’m eating, too. I ate a whole entire slice of bacon.”

  “One whole slice?”

  “Yep. And one slice of whole-wheat toast.”

  “When did you decide to change?”

  “I didn’t. Tim made me. He said if I don’t quit doing this, he was going to go back to New York.”

  “You don’t want him to?”

  “No.”

  Sadie closed her eyes as another fresh wave of nausea approached her senses. She just wanted to leave. Get away from this sadness, these poor creatures. It was more than she had bargained for. She should never have come.

  Later they called the police and Reuben escorted them to the location. Dat told him it was all right to do that, but he was not supposed to talk to reporters or have his picture taken. The ministers had warned strictly against it. They had hoped all this publicity would stop after the horse thieves had been arrested and sent to prison, so Dat was very stern with Reuben, who, he knew, was much too fond of the limelight to begin with.

  So when Reuben’s full length picture landed on the front page of the local paper, along with members of the Humane Society and the police officer, he had an awful time explaining it to his father. But, as usual, he talked his way into Dat’s good graces, was forgiven, then had the audacity to tell Sadie he thought he looked pretty tall standing beside that officer, and how did she like the way he wore his beanie low like that?

  Sadie began waking up at night, crying out, covered in cold sweat. She had never experienced nightmares like this, even following her accident. When her nausea persisted, Mark became extremely concerned, but she assured him it was only the flu and nothing to worry about. She’d just have to get the whole scene of those starving horses out of her head.

  How had Paris ever managed to escape? Sadie was convinced she had been there, her emaciated state being a dead giveaway. She would have been close enough to her home that she would have been ferocious in her will to escape. Over and over, Sadie mulled this subject, playing out one scene after another. She imagined Paris running at breakneck speed, and, in desperation, clearing that fence at the last minute. That terrible, rusted, filthy gate.

  She shuddered as she leaned on Paris’s gate, watching as she lifted a right front hoof daintily, as if to remind Sadie that she was healing nicely.

  “Yes, I know. You’re a royal wonder, Paris. All you need is a tiara, and you’ll be the princess you think you are.”

  She turned, her ears tuned. What had she heard? Someone calling her? Quickly, she stepped outside, looked up and down the driveway and toward the house, but the sun shone on the snow with blinding intensity, so she ducked back into the barn, shivering from the cold. She swept the forebay and was reaching up for the small canister of saddle soap, when she heard it again. Voices.

  Then a pair of boots hung over the ladder that went to the haymow, followed by denim trousers, which turned and crept down the ladder, followed by black, fur-lined boots.

  Tim! Anna!

  When Anna completed her descent, she was holding her right arm close to her body.

  Tim said, “Hey, Sadie. What’s up?”

  Anna looked at Sadie completely guileless, as innocent as a child. “Look. I knew your Mama Katz had kittens somewhere.”

  Sadie was furious. “What were you doing in the haymow? Anna, why are you here this early in the evening, and Tim, why aren’t you at work?”

  They were completely taken aback, surprised at Sadie’s suspicion.

  “Come on, Sadie. Grouch. Look at these kittens. Can I keep them after they are weaned?” Anna begged.

  “No.”

  Tim frowned, watching Sadie’s face. He couldn’t believe the mood she was displaying.

  “Hey, just calm down. Anna wanted to look for these kittens last week already, and I promised her the first Tuesday I’d be off early, I’d help her, and today it worked out. Why does that make you so angry?”

  “It doesn’t.”

  And then because they just stood and looked at her, she began to cry, slammed the barn door, and went to the house. Someone had better tell that couple what was proper and what was not.

  When the nausea worsened, the moodiness increased. Mam figured it all out, telling her she honestly thought they would soon be grandparents. Dat grinned behind his paper, Leah and Rebekah whooped and giggled and ran around the table, hugging each other with sheer excitement.

  Reuben grumbled and told her in no uncertain terms that he had been right. What else could she expect, getting married the way she did, just out of the clear blue sky? Now he was peeved at this improper celebration.

  When Sadie found Mam’s predictions to be true, she was scared, excited, flustered, and caught completely off-guard.

  When she told Mark, after Tim had gone upstairs, he took a long, deep breath, tears came to his deep brown eyes, and he said there was no way he could express his feelings just then. He held her in his arms with a new tenderness, almost a sort of reverence, and told her this was the happiest day of his life, besides t
he day she promised to become his wife.

  He got his coat and went outside. He didn’t return for a half hour or more, and when he did come in, his eyes were swollen, although he kept them hidden whenever he could. He soon showered and went to bed, which was puzzling to Sadie.

  During the night, the bed shook with the force of his sobs till Sadie lit a kerosene lamp and forced him to look at her. She saw all the emotions in his dark eyes, a roiling mass of joy, pain, remembrance, hope, resolve, and she knew he was letting go, bit by bit, of his self-hatred.

  “If God lets us have a child, he must think I’ll be an okay sort of dad, don’t you think?” he asked.

  The humility in his voice was unbearably sad. Was this, then, how low his self-esteem really was, as he made his swashbuckling way through life much too often? She assured him this was so true, and it was wonderful of him to think along those terms.

  Dorothy was not pleased, making absolutely no effort to hide this fact. She fumed and scolded, asking Sadie what she was thinking, and just who did she figure would take her place helpin’ in the ranch kitchen. Huh? Just who?

  Erma Keim was taken by surprise at Dorothy’s reaction, so she said nothing.

  Sadie went to work, slicing the cooked potatoes for home fries, then smelled the raw sausage Dorothy was shaping into patties for frying, gagged, swallowed, and made a desperate dash for the bathroom.

  Dorothy brought her a cup of hot ginger tea with two teaspoons of sugar in it, saying, “Drink this. Put some peanut butter on these saltines. Eat ’em.”

  Sadie knew she’d come around, although grudgingly for awhile yet.

  “You won’t be able to be table waiter at my wedding!” Erma hissed when they were away from Dorothy.

  “Yes. Yes, I will. I won’t always be nauseated.”

  Work in the ranch kitchen became a challenge, then an unbearable drudgery, as her nausea worsened. She only had to smell the dish soap and her day was ruined. She finally told Dorothy if she fixed her one more cup of ginger tea she was going to turn it upside down on her head, and Dorothy became so insulted she didn’t speak to Sadie the remainder of the day.