by Diane Guest
"I have never known you to be so benevolent to those in need before," she said. "Why now?"
Sylvanus shrugged his shoulders and started for the kitchen.
"Sylvanus." Her voice was low but he had no trouble hearing her. "I think I 'm owed some explanation."
"You're owed nothing, Caroline, but a roof over your head. But if you must know, John Meade asked me to take the children in as a favor to him."
"John Meade?" She raised an eyebrow. "What concern is this of his?"
"Susannah Snell is John's friend. He wanted to help her. I'm John's friend. I did what he asked. I couldn't expect you to understand what that means, though. In any case, it's none of your business."
When she spoke, her voice sounded lifeless. "Are you involved with that woman?"
Sylvanus looked at her with mild amusement. "Involved? What does that mean?"
"Are you sleeping with her?"
"Caroline!" he said in mock horror. "I'm shocked. How could you think such a thing?" He turned and crossed to the drawing room. Then, to his surprise, he heard himself say, "What if I am?"
She followed but said nothing. He repeated it. "What if I am sleeping with her? Again, it's really none of your business. You're in no position to discuss morality."
When she spoke, her voice was like a shard of ice, cold, sharp, vaguely threatening. "Your whores are one thing, Sylvanus. The minister's wife is quite another. I won't tolerate the insult."
"You won't tolerate it? What the hell do you have to say about it?" He threw his head back and began to laugh. He didn't know why he was continuing with this farce. But still, he rarely had the opportunity to make Caroline uncomfortable and he was enjoying her displeasure. "You needn't worry, my dear," he said softly, "I'll be discreet."
He turned back toward her in time to see a look of rage flash across her face. "I won't allow this, Sylvanus," she said. The threat in her voice was no longer veiled. "You'll not make a fool of me."
Sylvanus shook his head and turned away. "You stagger me, Caroline. First of all, you have absolutely nothing to say about how I live my life. And second…" His voice matched her own in its open hostility, "… anytime you want to, you may leave Morgan House. Nothing is preventing you. Absolutely nothing."
"Would you like that, Sylvanus? If I left on my own? Then you would need feel no guilt, would you?" She was so quiet for the next minute that Sylvanus thought she had left the room. But when he turned, she was still there. Her next words echoed from a long way off, repeating over and over until there was no sound left but the barest whisper. "I'll never leave Morgan House, Sylvanus. Not ever. You'll pay until the day you die."
OCTOBER 4, 1871
Some miles to the west, the bear reared up on its hind legs and sniffed the air. Then he sank down again on all fours and began to lumber away through the underbrush. Normally he would have stood his ground to do battle. But not now. This was no mortal enemy to be struck down with one blow of his mighty paw. This was death itself that drifted after him on the breath of the wind.
High through the trees the fire passed, never touching the ground, born a moment before from a single flash of lightning that had split the air in half and had turned the tops of the trees into crowns of liquid flame.
The fire created its own wind, its own jet of flame, and high aloft it began to run with devastating speed through the endless forest, eastward toward the bay.
"Your father's soft in the head."
"He is not."
"He is too. Soft in the head. My father says they're going to take him to the madhouse."
"Don't you ever say that again." Ethan was a good-natured boy, not easily riled, but with all his schoolmates standing around, he knew that unless he stood up for himself there would be no end to this torment.
The boy responsible for the abuse was Pee Wee Gillis, not usually a troublemaker, but unable to resist being a hero by saying aloud what the others had been whispering all along under their breaths.
"I'll say it if I please." He turned to the group. "We all know it's true, right?" There was a low murmur that Pee Wee interpreted as general agreement.
"I don't want to quarrel with you," Ethan said, painfully aware of Pee Wee's superior size, "but if you say that again, I'll have to fight you."
"I don't fight babies," Pee Wee retorted.
"You better stop it, Pee Wee." Matthew stepped up beside Ethan.
"It's none of your concern, Shepherd." Pee Wee wasn't so sure that he wanted to take on both boys, especially Matthew, who knew how to fight even though he was little.
"I don't think you ought to talk about Reverend Snell," Matthew said in a low voice. "He's a minister."
That was something Pee Wee hadn't thought about. What if he got sent to Hell for what he had said? He had an instinctive feeling that his support was fast melting away. He was trying to think of some way to save face when the school bell rang, signaling the end of the recess period. "I'll get you for this," he said to Matthew as they filed back into the schoolroom.
Pee Wee didn't have a chance to put his threat to the test, nor was he awfully disappointed when Susannah herded her children and Matthew and Jenny across the schoolyard and home as soon as the dismissal bell had rung. Pee Wee pushed his cap to the back of his head and set off down the road toward home, hoping that by the next day all would be forgotten.
Susannah had not lingered after school. She was determined to take her children up to Morgan House herself and therefore, as soon as the school day ended, she hitched up the horse to the buckboard, amid protestations from Abby, Jenny, and Matthew.
"It's not safe, Susannah," Abby said. "Why don't you wait until Mr. Morgan comes to get them?"
Susannah shook her head. "He didn't come down to the Landing today. He's going to have to send someone especially to get the children and I won't have it. They're my responsibility and it's time I took charge of my own affairs."
"But you know what John said. About you and Matthew."
"I know." She put her arm around Matthew's shoulders. "And that's why he'll stay here with you and Jenny. Don't worry, Abby. If we leave right now, I'll be back long before dark. And I'll take the shotgun." She dismissed her cousin without further discussion and climbed up on the high seat. She took the reins and headed the horse up the road toward Morgan House.
Susannah held her breath every inch of the way, more horrified by the fires with each passing moment. She hadn't been out of Penobscot Landing since her trip to Morgan House two days before, and what she saw now on both sides of the road made her feel weak. She began to wish that she had listened to Abby, and it was with untold relief that she approached the house. One of these days, she told herself, you're going to get yourself into real trouble. Pride goeth before a fall.
It was only when they pulled up in front of the house that she realized no one had spoken a word since they left town.
"Whew," Aaron whistled.
"Whew is right," Ethan said.
"I'm not even going in with you," she told Hester. "I'm going straight back before things get any worse." She kissed them all and turned to leave when Sylvanus appeared in front of the wagon and grabbed tight to the traces.
"God, madam," he said. "Are you insane?" Poor choice of words, he thought, under the circumstances.
"No such thing," she said. "I just wanted to save you an inconvenience."
"I thought it was agreed that you would travel nowhere alone."
"I never agreed." She was surprised at the concern in his voice.
"Get down from there at once," he said, reaching up to help her. "Now, you'll just have to come inside and wait until I can find someone to take you home." He swung her down and with his hand still touching her waist, he stood looking down at her. "Rough trip?" he asked.
"The worst you could imagine. Everything is burning. Slowly, to be sure, but there are so many fires. Heaven help us all if the wind begins to blow before it rains."
"I know. I think it might be worth your co
nsideration to have the children miss the next few days of school. Then you won't have to worry about them traveling back and forth."
She was so aware of his closeness that she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. They stood, inches apart, his hand still around her waist, and Susannah did not dare to breathe, didn't dare to think about what she thought she saw in his face.
Then she became aware that Caroline Morgan was standing in the doorway. Disgusted with herself, she pushed the thoughts of Sylvanus to the back of her mind and, smiling, went toward her up the stairs. Kate is right, she thought. No one has any business to be so beautiful. She held out her hand. "I did so want to thank you, Mrs. Morgan, for your kindness in offering my children the comfort of your home," Susannah said with genuine sincerity.
Caroline Morgan did not take her hand, nor was there a flicker of expression on her lovely face, but Susannah had the most horrendous feeling that, had Sylvanus not been standing at the foot of the stairs, Caroline Morgan would have spat on her. She pulled her hand back, shocked by what she had seen in Caroline's eyes. Caroline never moved, her face was still a blank, and yet Susannah felt engulfed by a wave of violent emotion. She took two quick steps backward, as if Caroline Morgan had reached out to strike her. She looked down quickly to keep herself from falling off the step and when she looked back up, Caroline Morgan was gone.
"I'm sorry she was so rude," Sylvanus came up the stairs. "I seem to spend a good part of my life these days apologizing for Caroline."
Susannah nodded. Her throat was dry.
Taking her by the hand, he led her up to the door. "Come in and rest for just a while and then I'll take you home." He hadn't intended for a minute to take her himself. Now he realized that he had never intended not to.
When they stepped into the hallway there was no sign of Caroline. "With any luck," Sylvanus said, "she'll keep out of sight until we've gone."
Susannah shivered. The thought of Caroline Morgan gave her a queasy feeling. It was more than discomfort. She felt the same kind of cold apprehension that she felt whenever she was with Edwin—a strange inability to predict either cause or effect. A feeling that all the rules that governed human behavior were null and void.
Sylvanus took her arm and led her through the house to the kitchen, where she was invited to sit to talk with Quint McCormick's wife, Mary, and Mrs. Deidrick, while Sylvanus went off to finish some business that required his attention.
Mrs. Deidrick had put a few of the children to work in the kitchen; one of the McCormicks' and Susannah's two oldest.
"I love to see this house alive," Mrs. Deidrick said, pounding a ball of bread dough with something close to vengeance. "That's the way it should be. Takes some of the ugliness out of it." She jammed her fist into the center of the raw dough. "Just like it takes some of the ugliness out of me when I knead bread. Makes me feel good just to beat it, like I could beat someone else around here."
"I hope we aren't responsible for your present passion," Mary McCormick said.
"No such thing," Mrs. Deidrick said. "Only one person responsible." She jerked her head toward the upstairs. "That woman is inhuman, that's what she is. Inhuman."
Mary was about to ask what Caroline had done now, when Aaron came into the kitchen. "Mother, Mr. Morgan said to tell you he's ready."
Susannah stood and said to Mrs. Deidrick, "I want to thank you for being so kind to my children."
"Nonsense. Children make life worth living."
Indeed they do, thought Susannah, as she kissed her children good-bye.
Mary walked with Susannah to the front of the house. The sound of a baby crying broke the stillness. "I expect nap time is over," she said, and turned toward the stairs. She and Susannah became aware at the same time that Caroline Morgan was standing motionless at the top landing looking down at them. Susannah threw a quick sideways glance at Mary and was comforted to see that she had the same nervous expression on her face that Susannah knew must be on her own.
"I'm sorry if he bothered you, Mrs. Morgan," Mary said, and hurried off to quiet her child.
Susannah slipped across the hall and out the front door and stood, breathing hard, hoping that Sylvanus would appear before Caroline came down and grabbed her. She had to admit to herself that she felt a lot safer with the heavy oak door closed tightly behind her. She found herself wondering whether or not she could outrun Caroline if she had to. What foolishness, she told herself. What do you think she's going to do to you, beat you up? All the same she couldn't suppress a sigh of relief when Sylvanus came up the drive. Uncle Arch was tied to the back of the buckboard.
"You look like you've seen the devil," he said, lifting her into the wagon.
About as close as I've ever come, she thought, and wondered whether she should have left her children at Morgan House.
They weren't five minutes along the road when they knew they were in trouble. The smoke was so thick that it made their lungs ache and there was a curious sound coming through the haze. Sylvanus reined in the horse. "Listen," he said.
"What is it?"
"I'm not sure, but I don't like it."
Susannah could see nothing through the smoke except for an occasional tree, charred and blackened, reaching up through the clouds like an ancient Druid monument. Then she heard it too. A low whistle, like the sound of wind in a tunnel.
Sylvanus motioned to the south. "I can't believe it. We've already burned out that area. How can it burn twice?"
Even as he spoke, a puff of scorching wind hit them, as if someone had opened the door to a steam furnace. Susannah looked up and through the smoke she could see the flames high up in the trees, spreading with lightning speed from one to the other.
Sylvanus laid the whip on the horse's rump, just as a tree came smashing down like a monster club, pinning the shrieking horse to the roadbed, knocking the wagon aside like a child's toy, throwing Susannah and Sylvanus into the smoldering rubble at the side of the road. Susannah could feel the earth vibrating under her body, could see the silhouette of the wagon wheel spinning in slow motion upside down.
They lay face down in the dirt while the flames passed high overhead. Sylvanus was the first to move.
"Are you hurt?"
Susannah didn't know. She hadn't tried to move. He dragged her up. "If that's any indication," he gestured up at the tree tops that were being engulfed in monstrous, onrushing waves of fire, "we'd better get the hell out of here before the ground fire catches up with us. It can't be too far off."
Uncle Arch was still tied to the back of the wagon, but somehow he had managed to get to his feet. Sylvanus put his arm around Susannah and, taking the reins, began to lead the terrified horse back up the road toward Morgan House. There was nothing they could do for the other horse, crushed by the weight of the tree.
"At this rate," Sylvanus muttered, "that fire is going to burn right up to the edge of town." No sooner had the words been spoken then they heard the mill whistle. "Jesus," he said.
The smoke was so thick that Quint almost ran them down. "Mr. Morgan," he said as he swung down off his horse, "what the hell is happening?"
"The road is burned out. Christ only knows what's going on down there." He gestured toward the town.
Quint took Susannah by the arm and helped her onto his horse. The two men led the horses in silence back to the house. As they approached the drive, Quint shook his head and said, "It beats all. It sure as hell beats all."
Sylvanus lifted Susannah down from the horse and she sat on the steps in a heap, realizing for the first time that the bottoms of her shoes were burned off right down to the soles of her feet.
Susannah winced as Mrs. Deidrick applied an even layer of Dr. Smith's Soothing Salve to her burns. She wasn't sure how competent Dr. Smith had been in the preparation of this miracle ointment, but Mrs. Deidrick swore that it could cure anything from head lice to dropsy.
Waves of pain spiraled up her legs. The side of her face had been burned too, although she couldn't re
member when it had happened. She touched it with hesitant fingers, feeling the blister that had already begun to form.
"You're going to find walking a painful experience," Mrs. Deidrick said.
"I'm just thankful that we got back here without anything worse happening," Susannah said, and wondered what what they were going to do without her horse. She cringed when she remembered the noise he had made when the tree hit him. "You can't imagine what those woods are like," she said to her children who were gathered around her, noses wrinkled up at the sight of the livid red blisters on the soles of her feet. "Mr. Morgan is right. You'll have to miss school until we get these fires under control. It's too dangerous going back and forth to town."
"Will you go home, Momma?" Hester asked.
"As soon as I can," Susannah said. "Mr. Morgan and Mr. McCormick are trying to get to town through the woods along the bay. If they make it, we'll have a better idea of what's happening. But for now," she hugged Aaron, "you'll have to put up with me."
"Shall I set another place for supper?" Hester asked Mrs. Deidrick.
"No. Mr. Morgan wants your mother to dine with him as soon as he gets back from the Landing." She turned to Susannah. "I hope your stomach can hold out. He may be quite a while."
"I'm not very hungry," Susannah said. She turned her head away as Mrs. Deidrick covered her feet with strips of white cotton.
"Maybe you'd like to lie down for a while," Mrs. Deidrick said.
Susannah stood, but found she was able to walk only on the outside edges of her feet. She felt like a duck, and after a few steps decided she really did need to lie down.
"I'll make up one of the guest rooms," Mrs. Deidrick said. "It won't take a minute."
Susannah followed her to the second floor and, after an eternity of baby steps, they reached their destination. Susannah was shocked to realize how tired she was; almost as soon as the bed was ready, she collapsed on it and fell into a deep sleep.
It was dark when she awoke, but she knew she was not alone in the room. "Hester?" She turned her head, wincing as her burned cheek made contact with the pillow.
