by Peter Ponzo
Joshua had always been wild and unpredictable, like an animal, like a storm, like a violent wind that sweeps across the corn, bending all before it. When she was a girl, she had watched him in awe, thrilled. When Joshua's father had been found, dead, she knew that the violent wind would become a hurricane, a volcano, raging.
Barney Fellows had been a close friend, working on her father's farm, a gentle boy who loved her very much and came courting in the Fall of '93. When Barney vanished, everyone knew that it was Joshua's doing: the volcano had erupted. Yet, she did not mourn the passing of Barney Fellows. She fantasized. The hurricane had taken Barney from her, the hurricane must now come to her - and it did, and she was overjoyed, ecstatic, and she gave herself to the raging wind on Moss Hill, and she told her Pa, weeping tears of hidden joy, and her Pa insisted: Joshua must marry her ... and her fantasy became reality.
She married the hurricane in the dead of Winter, January, 1895, and he was gentle and kind as she knew he would be, a warm wind that caressed her, fondling, embracing, loving. And he built a house, even as it snowed and the cold Winter howled, and life was a dream fulfilled. No more the hurricane, no more the violent wind, no more the raging volcano.
Then he killed her dog.
It was acting like any little dog, it was a good dog, she had loved that dog ever since before she got married. It was old, sort of a mongrel, but it was good company. Her mother had let her take it to their new home. It had grown up with her. It just barked when Joshua came home late from his night with the boys. Just one or two tiny barks. Any dog would bark if there were strange noises in the night. Joshua had no right to kill it.
He had staggered into the living room, in the dark, and the small dog had jumped up on his leg, barking, barking. He had kicked it across the room but the dog had squealed, then run back, barking. When Melissa reached the room Joshua had already swept the axe from the wall and was swinging it in a great arc above his head. She screamed, but it was too late. Joshua just left the dog lying on the blood-stained floor, in halves, and had gone to bed. She buried the poor dog that very same night. She had loved that dog dearly, yet she hadn't cried, not one bit. But she was careful not to mark the grave. Joshua should not know where it was buried. She never mentioned the dog again and neither did Joshua.
She was living in the eye of a hurricane, and it was suddenly frightening.
She had left him then, gone home, to her mother, crying. But her father would have none of it. A marriage is for better or worse. A marriage is forever.
Then Joshua came, wringing his hands, tearful. He begged and promised and touched her, once more the gentle breeze on her cheek, and she followed him, again, to his house, tall and narrow with stained glass and arched brick.
Yet the hurricane was there. When would it rage?
Melissa looked at the letter from Doc Manner again.
What would Joshua do when he discovered that their baby was bound to be a girl?
Martin's Bar
"Josh, can't yuh talk about anything ceptin' that boy o' yours?"
It was Saul Shulom talking. They were sitting in almost total darkness at the table in the farthest corner of the bar, as was their custom. Saul, bearded with red cheeks, and Bart with leather cap pulled tight, and Arnie with dancing eyes; they sat facing Joshua.
There were about eight round tables distributed randomly about the small room, all dark cedar with straight back chairs and several tin ashtrays at each table. Most of the other tables were empty and old man Martin was in back. Two oil lamps glowed from the counter and behind that was the beer and whiskey, lined up on the shelves.
"Yeah! What about the little woman? Tell us 'bout her? She still good in bed?" Saul said what all wanted to ask. "Tell us about that. You used to tell us about that little gal in bed. What about -"
Joshua banged his mug on the table, spilling half of the beer. "She's as big as a house. What do you think? She's like a cow. Ever go to bed with a cow?" They all laughed and Joshua grinned and settled back in his chair.
"You know Josh, you may get a gal ... ever think o' that? What if that little wife gives yuh a baby gal ... ever think o' that?" Arnie was serious as he said it.
The grin left Joshua's face and he stood up, fingers resting on the edge of the table. He was much taller than the three other dark and swarthy men. Even in the dim light they could see the fire in his eyes. They stopped laughing. Now he was angry. Best to wait until he calmed down. Best not to say anything. After a minute Joshua did sit down, solemn, frowning.
"You may get a gal," repeated the man across the table, quietly, almost whispering. "Better get used to the idea."
The others looked at Arnie with surprise, then at Joshua, anticipating a violent reaction. Arnie continued. "Ain't nothin' wrong with a gal, Josh. Maybe ... jest maybe it will be a gal and -"
Joshua reached over and grabbed Arnie by his shirt and dragged him across the table. The others jumped up, grabbed Joshua, pulled him away until he had dropped Arnie.
"It'll be a boy!" Joshua was leaning on the table and shouting directly across. "Melly will ... it's for sure ... she'll drop a boy, hear?"
They all stood, watching. They had never seen Joshua this mad. Arnie was on the floor and stayed there, carefully straightening his shirt. The door of the bar opened. The setting sun was at the end of the street this time of year and flooded the dimly lit interior with a band of blinding light. Joshua squinted and sat down abruptly, shaking his head. The others sat. Arnie picked himself up from the floor and began to leave. Joshua raised his hand.
"Arn ... sorry. C'mon, I'll buy the next round of beers. Sorry Arn, I jest get crazy when I think - well, jest come back and set. We'll drink to my son ... uh ... to my baby, okay?"
Arnie looked back and smiled. Josh and he had been friends forever, or so it seemed. They had done everything together: fishing, hunting, climbing Tooly Peak. They even took turns with the gals in town, and the gals from over Badenberg way. Josh had a terrible temper alright, but it never lasted. Now he was real mad. Arnie hadn't seen him so mad since old man Kumar was killed. After that Josh had disappeared, suddenly. Then Barney Fellows disappeared, too. Most folk figured that Barney and his buddies had killed Josh's Pa, and Arnie figured that Josh had done away with Barney ... but who's t'know? Just the same, that would be just like Josh.
Arnie walked back to the table and sat, staring across the beer mugs. Joshua reached over the table and Arnie took his hand. They shook vigorously, smiling across the dimly lit table, the others all relaxed, then Arnie grabbed his mug and raised it in the air.
"Here's to Josh, and his son!" cried Arnie, his eyes bright, his face lit up with a wide grin. Saul and Bart raised their mugs. Joshua grinned too, head bowed just a little, blushing lightly, and put the mug to his lips.
"Don't you mean his girl?" said Doc Manner.
The doctor had stood by the door for some time, getting accustomed to the dark before he noticed Joshua and Arnie and the others. Now he stood by their table, directly behind Arnie, looking very pleased that he had this news to tell.
"I've seen it before, many times," he continued. "Melissa's face is a little puffy and the way she holds the baby, high up ... it's bound to be a girl."
Joshua dropped his mug and stared at Doc Manner, his face contorted, his grin turning to grimace.
Arnie leaped to his feet. "Josh! Wait ... ain't nothin' wrong with havin' a gal."
It was too late. Joshua roared, rose violently to his feet, hands gripping the edge of the table, lifting the table from the floor, flinging it to his side, staggering forward. The others fell back, raising their hands to protect themselves. Arnie grabbed Josh's right arm and was dragged across the floor, in pursuit of the doctor now backing away toward the door. Joshua lunged forward and hit Doc Manner full in the face, then stood for a moment, towering dark and furious above the prostrate form, Arnie still holding on to his arm. Arnie let go, fell to the floor and Joshua sho
ok his head slightly as though to clear it, then turned slowly and stalked out of the bar.
As the door opened the setting sun leapt momentarily across the dark room illuminating the group as they bent over the doctor who lay quietly, bleeding profusely from the mouth.
Then the door closed.
Joshua was heading home, to see Melissa.
***
The sky was streaked with curious red wisps of cloud and the wind began to whistle across the eaves when Melissa heard the front door bang. She continued to mend the shirt, staring intently at her work, fearful and nervous. Joshua stood in the doorway for only a moment then walked briskly to her chair and dragged her to her feet.
"It ain't a boy! You ain't gonna give me a son!" He shouted directly into her face. Melissa shrunk from his grasp and whispered something. "Speak up woman! Why do you not give me a boy! Doc says a gal. Hear?"
"Doc can't be sure. I was going to tell you ... but I knew you would be angry ... I knew that -"
Joshua pushed her and she fell to the floor. He stood over her and stared, his body vibrating with anger, his hands trembling, saliva running thinly down his chin.
"You knew! You knew it wasn't no boy!"
He removed his belt in one long gesture and raised it above his head.
"Bitch!" He struck out and a bright red welt leapt across her cheek; she curled on the floor.
"You won't drop no gal!"
He struck her again and she curled more tightly, shielding her head with one hand, her belly with the other.
"You will not !" He struck her once more then paused, shook his head quizzically, then stalked out of the room.
Melissa pushed herself to her feet. There was no telling what Joshua would do now. She had to get away. She had to protect her baby. Struggling to the door which led to the back porch, she pushed it open and walked through, shaking, then opened the outside door and began to run across the field. It was cold. There had been a snowfall that morning and the welts on her head stung in the light wind. She lost her slippers but continued with bare feet, her thin dress rising behind. Then she heard Joshua bellowing at the back door and quickened her step. She fell, looked back and rose again to her feet, with difficulty. Joshua was running across the field holding in his hand something long and black. She fell again, gasping and he was standing over her.
"You will not give me a gal!"
He was holding a shovel and she cringed, terrified, shaking. He grabbed her by the arm, lifted her from the cold ground and dragged her, stumbling, back to the house, to the left front corner of the house. He pushed her to the ground. The slim willow tree had been removed and only the hole was there, but much larger, much deeper.
Joshua pointed into the hole.
"There! When it comes, you drop your gal there!"
CHAPTER 2
Melissa Kumar: November 6, 1895
Melissa didn't sleep. She hadn't slept in two days, had locked herself in her room. She was still sore from the welts on her face after the beating, but that didn't matter now. Her baby was coming, soon, very soon. What if it were a girl? What would Joshua do to her, to the baby? Joshua slept downstairs in the living room, on the sofa, but she was still frightened. He had threatened to bury her baby under the willow tree. That's what he had said. He had pointed to the spot and said that her baby girl would be buried there. Then he had carelessly replanted the thin willow tree, outside in the snow, by the corner of the house. She was horrified and had cried almost constantly since that night. She never cried before, never. Even when Joshua killed the dog, she never cried. But this was different. It was her baby.
But then, sometimes, Joshua would be so gentle, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear, saying that he was sorry, he hadn't meant what he said. For two days he had been gentle, bringing plates of food, crying at her bedside. This huge hulk of a man, his black hair hanging loosely to his shoulders, sobbing and holding her hand.
***
Joshua was sleeping when the pains came. Melissa would not ask him to call Doc Manner. She must save her baby, somehow, alone. She must have her baby, her baby girl, and Joshua musn't know.
She began to breath heavily, panting. Not too loudly. Joshua was sleeping. Could she protect her baby? She leaned forward then fell back on the bed in agony. Sharp pains, pulsating, her body vibrating, her cheeks wet with perspiration. What would he do? Would he be gentle? Would he fly into a rage?
How could she protect her baby?
She rolled out of bed, holding her swollen belly, pains shooting up her legs. She crawled slowly to the closet, paused, breathed heavily, pulled open the door. The throbbing increased and she moaned softly. Not too loudly. She pulled out the shoes and boxes, then she found it, leaning against the back wall of the closet. She must save her baby .
***
Joshua awoke at the first sound. A small cry. A baby. Melly was having his baby. He leapt to his feet and ran up the stairs, three-at-a-time, to her bedroom. She had locked herself in, but now she would let him enter. He was the father. It was his boy, she was having his boy and they would both admire the baby, plan his future. He had the right, he was the father, it was his boy. He knocked gently.
"Melly? It's Joshua. Please open the door. The baby, I can hear my boy. Let me in."
He could hear the baby but Melly wasn't coming to the door. He had the right.
"Melly! I have the right! Open this here door!"
His face reddened and he pushed, then raised his fist and brought it hard against the heavy wooden door. It splintered. He stepped back and ran against it and the door fell away, crashing into the room. There was his boy, in Melly's arms. He ran and knelt beside the bed, his head bowed. He began to weep, then looked up at his pretty wife holding the baby tightly against her breast, covered in a blanket.
"My boy," he muttered, tears glinting in the dim light. "My son."
Melly looked frightened. She was hiding something. Then he knew: it was not a boy. Melly was hiding a girl. She had given him a girl. He rose slowly to his feet and stared down at his wife. She was trembling, holding the baby girl to her breast, moaning softly.
Joshua towered above her, shaking with uncertain rage. Melissa carefully set the baby on the sheet and reached over the side of the bed. He jumped forward, grabbed the baby, tore off the blanket.
It was a girl.
He roared in anger, held the baby in the air, naked and red, turned and ran out of the room, still holding the baby in the air, the umbilical cord flailing. Melissa screamed.
Joshua ran to the corner of the house, tore the small willow from the snow-covered ground and held the baby in the air, directly over the hole.
"You will not give me a girl! Curse you! You will not!"
***
Melissa cried, trembled; she had been too slow. He had taken her baby, her baby girl, and she had not been able to protect it. She held her face in her hands and cried bitterly, shoulders shaking, the double barrelled shotgun now lying across her knees. It was the only way she knew to protect her baby, but she didn't have time. She had hid the shotgun in the closet, but she hadn't saved her baby.
Then she heard the front door. Joshua had slammed it closed. She could hear him cursing. He was coming up the stairs, cursing, his boots pounding on the stairs. He had taken her baby. She had not been able to protect it. He was an animal. She would be next. He had killed her dog. He had taken her baby. Now he would kill her. She must not be too slow.
Melissa raised the shotgun to her shoulder, pointed it at the open door. It was heavy and she was weak and the long barrel wavered as Joshua leapt into the room, his face red, his hands covered in blood and dirt. He stood for only a moment, staring at Melissa, trying to comprehend, shaking his head. She was holding his shotgun. What was she doing?
Melissa pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing.
Joshua raised his head and roared, leaping forward, hands extended, fingers like claws, a
raging storm. The gun wavered. She pulled the second trigger, a violent roar and a thin flame shot from the barrel ... and his face exploded in a stream of bloody shreds which fell over the floor,
over the sheets,
over her face,
and over the twin.
***
Twins.
She had twins and she had protected this one, this beautiful, beautiful baby. This baby girl.
Joshua had taken the first-born, but she had saved the twin girl.
She would never let anyone threaten her or her baby again.
Never.
Melissa rested for a day, leaving Joshua's body on the floor and suckling the baby girl. The next morning she dragged his body down the stairs, across the living room and out the door to the corner of the house. She was weak and rested often, but somehow she found the strength. She carefully removed, once more, the slim willow. The hole was too small, but the shovel was still leaning against the house and she took it and began to dig. When soft pink flesh came to the surface she stopped and cried silently. After a time she straightened, her jaw firmly set, and held the tiny body in her arms, whispering, caressing. Melissa removed her shawl, wrapping her first born carefully, then placed it to the side of the hole and continued to dig, stopping frequently, breathing heavily, leaning on the shovel.
The sun had come up and it looked like it was going to be a nice day even though they had expected snow. She stopped digging and smiled at the sun. Yes, it would be a very nice day.
She looked about, saw Joshua's dead body. The lower half of his face was almost completely missing, hanging strips of flesh, red with dried blood, but his eyes, they were still open. Melissa stared at him for some time then, slowly, deliberately, raised the shovel above her head and brought it down with as much force as she could. Blood spurted briefly from Joshua's hooked nose, but his eyes closed. She smiled, her blue eyes flashing, and returned to her digging. It took nearly an hour to make the hole large enough. She dragged the limp body to the edge of the hole, levered it in with the shovel. He was a big man but somehow she managed, for her and for her baby, she managed. The hurricane was no more. The storm had ended.
