Into The Deep

by Lauralee Bliss

  Cornbread and potatoes. Potatoes and cornbread.

  She winced. I am no better. I love this new life as much as anyone. God, please help me trust in Your will and not my own wants and desires. Help me know what is right and good in Your eyes alone.

  Three

  “Go away!” A door opened. The muzzle of a gun poked out, gleaming in the sun’s rays. “I’m warning you. Not another step.”

  Jared walked tentatively into the yard. It had been awhile since he had been back. He’d stayed away, in his cabin, thinking and praying about his circumstances, giving them each some time alone. Suddenly he caught sight of his uncle’s rifle.

  “Uncle Dwight, it’s me.”

  “I know who it is. Don’t make me use my gun now. Go away!”

  “Please, can we talk? We need to talk about this.”

  “I have nothing more to say to you. Go away!”

  “Uncle, I. . .”

  The gun fired. Jared jumped as a bullet whizzed by him and lodged in the wooden fencing behind him. A chill swept over him.

  Uncle Dwight, visibly shaken, lowered his weapon. “I didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident. Please, just leave me alone.”

  Jared needed no further urging, not after feeling the breeze of a bullet brush by him. He took to his heels, racing by his uncle’s fields, which Jared had started to plow before all this happened. Past the fields, he pressed onward into the woods where spring plants were emerging from the cold ground. He paused to catch his breath, looking to see if his uncle had followed. Through the naked tree branches, he saw the faint curl of smoke rising out of the cabin’s chimney. He could see the man’s rage as he stood in the doorway of the humble log home, waving his fist and shouting. The hard voice echoed in the glade. Go away! And never come back!

  Jared sank to the hard ground. How could this have happened? Why, God? He scooped some clay from the ground and formed it into a ball. Pitching it against a stout tree, he watched the clod hit, then break apart. Just like his life. He had hardly eaten or slept since that terrible day at Mammoth Cave when they buried his aunt. In fact, this was the first time he had mustered the courage to visit his uncle, hoping the tide of grief had passed and reconciliation might be in his grasp. He had never been more wrong, he realized, as the faint smell of gunpowder reached his nostrils. Nothing had changed. The anger, the hurt, the pain was ever alive, even more so now than before. He had no idea what to do about it, either.

  Just then, he heard the rustle of fragile bushes. Footsteps crunched through the downed leaves left from last autumn. Fear rose up in his throat. He began to inch himself away, behind a tree trunk that he prayed would offer him some protection. His heart began to race. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Uncle Dwight appeared from behind the trees, his boots covered in mud, his face swathed in anger. At least he didn’t carry the gun. “What do you want here, Jared?” he sputtered. “You sneaking around my place all the time, up to no good.” He rubbed his face.

  Jared was thankful to find his uncle talking to him. “I miss you, Uncle. We need each other. The fields need plowing. We need to get the crops planted soon.”

  “I don’t need you no more. I trusted you. I trusted you with my Mattie. You told me to take her to the place and leave her in a pit of stone. And look what happened. She’s gone. Gone forever, buried in the cold ground. She went into some cold ground and never came out again.” He began to cough.

  “Uncle, please believe me. If I had known any of this would happen, I’d never have considered sending her there. I loved her, too. I never would have put her life in danger. I wanted to save her life.”

  His uncle stood there, rubbing his face. He looked tired, worn out, frail, and fragile, like a dying tree ready to fall if hit by a breath of wind. “You just don’t know anything about love, Jared. You don’t know what it means to have the love of a good woman—someone to care for and someone who cares about you, standing by your side. You don’t know what we had, your aunt and I, and what you stole. Now I want you to go away and leave me alone.”

  The look on his uncle’s face sealed it. Jared could say no more. He took to his feet and walked deeper into the woods, away from his uncle’s grief, headed for the road. He paused. Where would he go? He refused to return to his cabin right now. There was nothing for him there. It was a cold and lonely place. Whenever he saw the tablecloth his aunt had made or the flower the young woman had given him at the burial, lying in the Bible all withered, his throat ached. Great heaves filled him. Why was he blamed for this? His uncle should blame the people who had done this to Mattie, that doctor who had made all those fancy promises and then broke every one of them. The doctor who had sentenced Mattie to death by his impressive words of healing and miracles. Tears clouded his eyes. He had believed in the miracle, and the miracle had failed him.

  He walked along, kicking up the ground as he pondered his uncle’s words. No, he didn’t know the love of woman. Maybe he needed to. Maybe a woman’s love would help him understand his uncle’s hurt and help redirect his life. For some reason, he thought of the young and pretty woman at the hotel. He didn’t even know her name, but he remembered her very well—the white dress, the small bouquet of spring flowers she had given him for his aunt’s burial, the solemn vigil she had kept during the service. He looked often at the flower pressed inside the only book he owned, his Bible. Her fine dress of pure white reminded him of freshly fallen snow and illustrated her rich status. Why would he even consider her as someone who might introduce him to the kind of love his uncle described? How could he think she would so much as give him a second glance? She didn’t know any more about him than he knew about her. She was wealthy, without a care in the world. He was only a farmer caught up in a spiral of grief and uncertainty. But he did desperately want to know what it meant to care for someone, to have a marriage like his uncle and his aunt had known, to understand Uncle Dwight and maybe himself.

  Jared returned to his cabin and saddled his tar-colored horse. He decided he wanted to take another look. Not at the death cave or the fancy hotel, but at the woman who’d been thoughtful enough to be there for him in the saddest of times. He wanted to know her name. Where she came from. Who she was. Why she cared.

  He took off down the dusty road. It was a fair piece to the hotel. Along the way, he passed wagonloads of patrons traveling to and from the cave. He didn’t know how he would gain the young lady’s attention. Maybe he could just be a shadow among the many visitors, a silent observer as she had been, quiet and thoughtful, perhaps even prayerful. Maybe she would be as attracted to him as he was to her. On the other hand, maybe he was being downright foolish to even think she could fulfill the role of which his uncle spoke.

  “Whoa, there! Whoa!”

  Jared hadn’t even seen the horse and rider barreling toward him. He pulled at the reins to slow his mount, guiding it off the road.

  “Hey, you’d better look where yer going! I plum near ran you over.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  The rider peered down at him. “You look familiar. You Dwight Edwards’s nephew by chance?”

  “Yes, I am. Jared Edwards.”

  “I’m George Higgins. Heard about your aunt. Sorry. Death has struck again, it seems. Some kind of curse in that cave, that’s what it is. I just come from there myself.”

  Jared shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. “What do you mean?”

  “I lost my cousin in Croghan’s cave. He died the day before yesterday. Now I’m heading over to talk to your uncle. I want to know what we can do about this.”

  Someone else had died in the cave? Thoughts of the young woman vanished upon hearing this news. While Jared realized he should mourn the man’s loss, he wrestled with a sense of relief. Someone else shared in the grief, the confusion, and the pain. Someone else had trusted in this Dr. Croghan and found their loved one taken away. He was not alone.

  “Where are you headed?” the man asked. “Not back to that cave?�
�

  “Uh.” He panicked. “I, uh.” He didn’t dare tell him what he was up to. . .how he was seeking the woman who worked there.

  “Come on and ride with me to your uncle’s.”

  Jared shook his head. “We’re not on speaking terms after my aunt passed away. Uncle Dwight blames me for it. I convinced him to take Mattie there, you see—to let that doctor cure her. Now he hates me for it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I understand, though. My son Riley don’t say much to me neither. Well, we can’t let this get to us. We gotta come together and see what can be done. Can’t let no rich doctor come up with some kinda no-good idea that takes away our loved ones. I miss my cousin something awful. He and I, we went fishing there in the river all the time. I sure do miss him.”

  “Did your cousin have the consumption?”

  “Yes, and he insisted the doctor could heal him in that fancy cave of his. Said how the air there could do wonders. I tried to talk him out of it. Told him he needed to go somewhere warm, like the Carolinas. But he just sat there, skin and bones he was, and said, ‘George, I don’t have long to live in this world. If the good Lord gave us this cave as some miracle, then I’d be a fool not to try it.’ And I believed him.” He paused, his face darkening as if storm clouds had drifted across it. “Now I wonder who’s the real fool?”

  Jared had been told he was the fool for taking his aunt there. But there must be more to this than what he could see with his own eyes. Surely God could make something good come out of this—maybe by bringing people into his life, people he never would have met otherwise. “So, what do you think we should do?”

  “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m gonna find out what that doctor’s gonna do about this.”

  “Nothing we say or do is going to bring back our loved ones,” Jared said.

  “You’re right about that. But we can do something so’s no one else dies. In my mind, he ought to close down that place. Seal that cave up. Keep everyone out of it. It’s a death cave now. No more grand Mammoth Cave, no siree. We’re gonna put a stop to it somehow. Think your uncle might be willing to help?”

  The idea of building a bridge to his uncle’s affections, a way to span the chasm that kept them apart, appealed to Jared like no other. With his own family gone, he had no one else. Just the thought of reconciliation made his heart leap. “I’m sure he would. He misses Aunt Mattie. I think he would do anything to make sure no one else suffers like he has.”

  “That’s it, then. I’ll see who we can get to go talk to that doctor as soon as possible. And we’re gonna make such a noisy fuss, they won’t be able to do anything else but close that cave.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll put in a good word for you to your uncle. Make no mistake.”

  “Much obliged.” He was glad to see someone willing to break through the storminess in his life. Maybe a rainbow was about to appear, a promise of something new, a hope for the future.

  ❧

  Back inside his cabin that night, sleep eluded Jared. He tried to rest but soon got up and started a fire in the fireplace. He was hungry and decided to make some biscuits. He hadn’t been hungry these days and often skipped meals, but tonight he would make biscuits in honor of his aunt. She often told him that a young man should be able to do his own cooking—especially once he got married and the woman was tending to the younguns—but even before that. He could still envision the gentle form of his aunt in front of the fireplace, showing him how to bake biscuits in the Dutch oven over a bed of glimmering coals. Then came her recipe for apple pan dowdy. Corn pone. Flapjacks. Sourdough bread. He ate well on the heels of her tutoring. That is, until the dark day when his appetite vanished into the bowels of the earth along with Mattie.

  He set to work making the biscuits and spooning the dough into the Dutch oven. He then opened the cabin door for a breath of air. It was a cold night. He saw something dart by in the air. Then another. Bats. They were frequent visitors with all the caves in the area. He didn’t like them. They were too swift and mysterious, nearly invisible. At least he didn’t feel the night itself mysterious and without hope. In fact, he felt better tonight than he had in a long time, as if hope had been restored. Jared had prayed all evening that this man named Higgins could get through to Uncle Dwight and make him see that Jared wasn’t the enemy. Afterwards, Higgins stopped by his place as he was putting up the stock to tell him the meeting with his uncle went well. Uncle Dwight and Higgins got along famously, and in the end, they agreed to confront the doctor at the hotel. Maybe on the heels of this meeting, healing and forgiveness would soon follow. Both Mattie and this fractured relationship with his uncle could finally be laid to rest.

  For Jared’s part, he told Higgins he would try to help, perhaps by convincing the young woman at the hotel to intervene in their circumstance. She had been there at his aunt’s burial. He felt certain she would help. There was something different about her, something unlike the others in that place. For one thing, she cared. She had a semblance of mercy. She must be sympathetic to the agony of death to be there at some stranger’s burial. She wouldn’t have given him the flowers for his aunt’s grave or stood by in silent reverence otherwise. Jared intended to appeal to her merciful heart.

  He returned to check on the biscuits. Maybe out of all this, good would come. God would knit him with a woman who would teach him about love and life—such as his Aunt Mattie had shown until death snatched her away. Maybe it would make him appreciate life more. Maybe he wouldn’t feel so lonely either. He would finally have a purpose.

  He turned the biscuits over one by one. They were browning nicely. There were good changes coming, like the deep red of a sunset signaling fair weather. For the first time since his aunt’s passing, hope filled his heart.

  Four

  A golden glow formed on the distant horizon with the first rays of sun awakening the new dawn. Susanna arose from her bed and stretched her arms. A knock sounded at the door. She answered it to find Martha, bringing linen towels and fresh water in a porcelain pitcher.

  “Good morning, Martha,” Susanna chirped. For some reason, she felt happy and carefree today. Perhaps it had to do with the delightful dream she’d had of strolling through the woods beyond the hotel and encountering a handsome man on horseback. He had tipped his hat to her like a true gentleman. He asked if she cared to ride with him on his black steed—an offer she hastened to accept. He offered his stout hand to help her astride the animal. They rode fast and furious through the tall grass and into the Kentucky woods filled with flowers all in bloom. Susanna could still feel the wind in her hair and hear her laughter.

  “Miss?” Martha asked, her face as rigid as stone with nary a smile to be found.

  Susanna sent her a quizzical look before turning to dip her hands in the cold water, splashing it onto her face. She patted her face dry with the towel Martha offered. “I do hope we are having a wonderful breakfast. I’m starving.”

  “Eggs and ham, Miss. Yankee dough cakes. Applesauce.”

  “How grand.” Susanna grew hungry just listening to it all. None of the hateful potato soup and cornbread could be found here except for an occasional corn pudding or fancy potato dish.

  She hummed a tune as she began the lengthy task of dressing for the day. There were the long, itchy stockings held up by garters. Drawers separated at the waist. A linen chemise. Several stiff starched petticoats, one on top of the other. A corset, which Martha helped to tie. Then a dress with a tight-fitting bodice fastened with hooks and eyes. The skirt arced in a fashionable style, taking on the shape of a bell from the many petticoats underneath. She sighed in satisfaction at her image in the mirror. Perfect for her man on his black horse, if only he would come. She began to twirl around the room, feeling giddy and a bit light-headed. I am a fine lady at last. How she dreamed of this while sitting by the brook, dressed in ugly calico stained by Luke’s clumsiness. Soon there would be no end to the suitors who would arrive, asking permission to court her.

  “Susanna!�
� Mother said from the doorway. “Please contain yourself. You’re a lady, after all.”

  “But today I will be whisked away by a handsome stranger on a horse darker than even that cave,” she said with a giggle.

  Mother shook her head. “I don’t know where you come up with these ideas of yours. Hurry now. Breakfast is being served. Your brothers are already seated. And we have guests.”

  Susanna took a brush to her hair and quickly wound it in a knot at the nape of her neck, fastening it into place with combs. Curly ringlets graced each cheek flushed with excitement. “Do you think it will be busy at the cave today now that pleasant weather has come?”

  “Every day is busy. Since the tourists now arrive at the hotel by stage, there is never a day it isn’t. Everyone is curious. And yes, I do believe the warmer weather brings more people.”

  Susanna took one more look at her appearance before following her mother to the dining area. Several guests were seated at the large table along with her family, some of whom she didn’t know. She offered a greeting and took a seat.

  “The day is already half gone,” Luke teased. “Where have you been?”

  “I was having a wonderful dream, if it’s any of your concern.”

  “She dreams of riding in a fine carriage,” Henry added with a smirk.

  Susanna held her head high. “As a matter of fact, I did dream of a noble on his black steed who will carry me away to a grand palace on a hill.” She unfolded the napkin across her lap and waited expectedly for breakfast to be served on pewter platters.

  The brothers hooted until Papa and Mother glared at them, silencing the rowdiness. “You would do well to remember yourselves,” Mother said. “We have guests.”

  Only then did Susanna pay notice to the three men at the table, dressed in their stiff coats, staring at her family. She recognized Mr. Archibald Miller, who managed the hotel, along with two business associates of Dr. Croghan’s, though the doctor himself was not present.