Miserere

by Caren J. Werlinger

  Inside the house, a shout could be heard. A moment later, Conn saw a shadow through the flames now almost completely obscuring the window.

  “Help me!” Joe called from inside the bedroom.

  Conn hesitated for a moment, as a part of her felt a cold wave of hatred. All she had to do was… nothing, and he would get what he deserved. It only lasted a couple of seconds, and then she shouted, “You have to jump! I’ll help you!”

  She could see Joe approach the window, terror in his face. “You’re not strong enough to catch me!”

  Suddenly, Abraham was behind her on the branch. He leaned out as far as he dared, reaching toward the house. “Come on!” he yelled. “We’ll catch you, but you’ve got to jump now!”

  Even through the flames, Conn could see the hatred twist Joe’s face as he hesitated. Without warning, the floor gave way and he disappeared with a scream. She pressed her face into Abraham’s shoulder as the screams continued to rip the fabric of the night. When they finally stopped, all that could be heard was the roar of the flames as they devoured the house.

  CHAPTER 32

  The war was over.

  What was good news for most was a renewed sense of worry and anxiety for Caitríona and her family, which now included little Moses. Lucy and Hannah had assisted Ruth with the birth. Henry had broken into tears of joy as he held his son and declared him a free man.

  Life had been good for the little family. They’d slowly explored around the cabin to discover they were in Pocahontas County, near a small town called Largo. The mountain residents had built an iron furnace of stacked stone, and as Henry was the most accomplished blacksmith in the region, he soon was not only making his own tools, but was forging for others as well. By bartering his services, they had acquired nearly everything they needed to be comfortable: cooking utensils, cloth for new clothes, provisions. While they initially downed trees and hand-cut all their own lumber, there was a nearby sawmill whose machinery was in constant need of repair. Caitríona negotiated Henry’s expertise in exchange for rough-sawn boards which sped the work on their building immeasurably.

  They had no idea if the original owner of the cabin, someone Lucy called Jacob Smith, might return home, expecting to pick up where he’d left off, but if he did, he would not recognize the place. By now, nearly two years after they’d first discovered the cabin, Henry and Caitríona had built a barn over the rocky outcropping where Caitríona had first fallen into the tunnel. She was now nearly as handy with a hammer and saw as he was, having long ago used the material from her dress to make britches for herself. He didn’t understand her insistence that they build over the tunnel, making a trapdoor for access, but he did as she instructed. In secret, they worked on the tunnel, enlarging and supporting the one that extended toward the cabin so that it would be accessible under the new house they were adding to the original log structure. Henry came up with an ingenious design for a hidden staircase that would allow access to the tunnel.

  Though the people around Largo had accepted Caitríona’s story about being a war widow, she was always on guard for strangers. Hannah and the others sensed that there was something she knew that she had not shared with them, but did not press her for an explanation. Hannah would often find her sitting by herself in the evenings, when work had stopped for the day, brooding on thoughts known to her alone. Knowing better than to ask what was wrong, she would simply sit and rest her head against Caitríona’s shoulder, enjoying the feel of Caitríona’s arms holding her tightly. Without any drama or discussion, Ruth and Henry had accepted that their family now consisted of two couples and their children.

  The one person they had met whom Caitríona trusted completely was Lucy Peregorn. Lucy knew everything about these mountains. She helped Ruth learn the local herbs and roots and, together, they exchanged their secrets for making medicines and salves. The old woman no longer surprised Caitríona with the things she knew or gleaned. Lucy had generously given them a milkcow so they were able to have fresh milk and make their own butter and a little cheese.

  As weeks went by, more and more men returned home from the war. When none claimed the cabin as his own, Caitríona began to relax a bit.

  “Where’s Mam?” Deirdre asked one day. Nearly four years old now, she was Orla in miniature.

  “I don’t know, darlin’,” Ruth answered, stirring a pot she had heating over the fire. “She was down below.”

  She went into the new part of the house to where the hidden staircase zigzagged down to the tunnel and called out, “Caitríona?”

  Hannah appeared at the base of the stairs. “She’s not here. She’s carrying.” All the extra dirt and stone from their work in the tunnels had been carried, bucket by bucket, to one of the branch tunnels they had discovered. “We can’t have people wondering where this great bloody pile of dirt came from,” Caitríona had insisted.

  “Come to think of it, she’s been gone a long time.”

  Alarmed, Ruth said to Deirdre, “You stay here with Moses, darlin’. We’ll go find your mama and be right back.” She quickly descended the stairs. She and Hannah took an oil lamp and headed toward the tunnel where they had been dumping the debris. They found their way clogged by a cloud of dust. Coughing and choking, they came upon a wall of dirt closing off the tunnel all the way up to the roof.

  Disregarding the possibility of another cave-in, Hannah screamed, “Caitríona!” Scrabbling at the dirt, she tried to claw her way through, sobbing and yelling.

  Ruth grabbed her and restrained her tightly. “Don’t. We might be trapped, too. Let’s get Henry.”

  Within minutes, the three of them were back at the cave-in. Henry methodically explored the wall of rock and dirt facing them. “It’s too big, and it’s holding the roof up now,” he said, pointing. “We can’t move it without bringing more down on top of us.”

  “We can’t leave her in there,” Hannah sobbed.

  “We won’t,” Henry assured her. “We’ll bring back some timbers and try shoring the roof up, so we can dig her out.”

  Late that day, exhausted and covered in dirt from head to toe after hours of work, they climbed dejectedly back up to the house. “We’ll eat and rest a little, and then go back,” Ruth said.

  She and Henry forced Hannah to eat a few bites. “You’re gonna need your strength to keep digging,” Henry said.

  Just as they were lighting more lamps in preparation for returning to the tunnel, Caitríona appeared out of the darkness, limping and bedraggled and caked in mud and dirt, but very much alive.

  Hannah cried out in relief and joy, flinging herself into Caitríona’s arms.

  Sitting shakily, Caitríona told them of being caught in the cave-in. “I didn’t have time to run,” she said. “It just came down.” Ruth handed her a bowl of stew. She ate a few bites. “Thank the Lord, I wasn’t buried under the full weight of it. I was able to dig myself out on the far side. We never went further than the underground lake, but that tunnel comes out near Lucy’s house. I got back as soon as I could.” Deirdre crawled into her lap, clinging to her and crying. “I’m fine, child,” Caitríona said, kissing her head and holding her tightly.

  “I don’t think we should go back into those tunnels,” Hannah said.

  “No!” Caitríona said vehemently. “No, we need those tunnels. Those tunnels are going to save our lives one day.”

  §§§

  Conn woke with a start to find herself in her own room. For the past three days, she had been confined to bed, her feet treated with one of Molly’s salves and wrapped in bandages to give her burns and cuts a chance to heal. Her arms and chest were also healing from her scratches and cuts from the tree branches. She heard them whispering – her mother and Molly and Abraham and the doctor. They all thought she was distraught over the horrific events of that awful night.

  The sheriff had taken the surviving members of the erstwhile Klan into custody. It turned out, they were no more members of the KKK than he was, he reported to Elizabeth. They
’d just gotten to drinking and as they got each other all riled up, they had decided to try and scare Abraham and the Mitchells, taking it a step further than Grady and Joe’s first clumsy attempt at warning the Mitchells away from their friendship with Abraham. The others hadn’t counted on Joe and T.R. getting so carried away. “They’re all gonna be charged, though,” Sheriff Little said smugly. “Either as accessories or with attempted murder and arson.” This was the biggest case of his career, and was sure to get him re-elected until he was ready to retire.

  Abraham’s house was gone. The firefighters had had no chance of putting out the blaze, accelerated as it was by the kerosene. The most they could do was contain the flames and prevent them from spreading to the nearby woods. Joe’s remains had been found, but the fire had been so intense, there wasn’t much left for his family to bury.

  Molly had found Elizabeth and Will safe in the tunnel where Conn had left them, the men there at the house scattering as Molly drove up, brandishing her shotgun. By the time the three of them drove over to Abraham’s house, it was fully engulfed. Conn and Abraham had managed to climb down from the tree that saved them just moments before it, too, caught fire and burned.

  What none of them knew, for Conn had confided to no one the thing that was tormenting her, was how close she had come to willfully letting someone die. She had been certain, after watching her trout die, that she could never kill again. But, she had come so close to doing just that. That flash of hatred had been so powerful… And part of her couldn’t help wondering if her hesitation had cost Joe the time he needed to jump from that window. The prophecy had said the curse could only be ended by “a soul blessed with light.” She felt soiled, stained by that moment, and was sure she could no longer be the one.

  Yet… she had just had another dream. She lay there now, remembering. She didn’t know if the tunnels had ever saved the lives of Caitríona and the others, but she knew they had saved four lives the other night.

  A knock on the door roused her from her reflections. Her mother appeared. “Are you up for a visitor? He’s been waiting three days to see you.”

  Conn nodded and sat up against her headboard as Abraham came in.

  “Hello, Connemara,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. Dr. Jenkins wasn’t sure the damage to his trachea would ever heal completely. She scooted over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said. “How about you?” She could see the raw stripes around his neck and wrists from where the ropes had bitten into the flesh.

  “I am healing,” he said.

  “Where are you living now?” she asked.

  “Miss Molly invited me to stay with her until I can rebuild,” he said.

  Conn couldn’t help but smile. “That must be interesting.”

  He laughed a little, but then coughed as his throat was still easily irritated. “Yes, it is. She’s a little set in her ways; then again, so am I. But, she’s a good person.”

  Conn leaned over to her nightstand. “Here,” she said, holding out the little leather-bound volume of The Song of Hiawatha that Abraham had given her on her birthday. “You should have this back.”

  He shook his head. “You keep it. I’ll start a new collection of old books once I have bookshelves again. Maybe you’ll help me?”

  He looked down at his hands, long-fingered and callused. He blinked rapidly as he said, “I can never thank you –”

  “You don’t have to –”

  He looked up at her with soft eyes. “I know how you felt. Out on that limb, when he called for help.” Conn stared transfixed into his eyes, wondering if he could possibly know... “Part of me wanted to leave him in there, after what he did…”

  “But we didn’t.”

  “No,” he agreed. “We didn’t. It was his choice.”

  And to Conn’s mortification, she began crying. Abraham hesitated, then reached out to hold her as she cried.

  CHAPTER 33

  One of the first things they did when Conn could walk again was to go to Walsh’s. Molly told them that Mrs. Walsh had come out to her cottage to bring Abraham three pair of blue jeans and some shirts, plus some new underclothes and a pair of boots.

  “You’ll be needing things to re-build your house,” she said, staring at Abraham’s shoulder. “I’d… I’d be pleased to get you anything you need. I’ll give you a good price.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Walsh,” Abraham said. “That is indeed generous of you. I’ll see you soon.”

  “You could have knocked me over with a feather,” Molly declared. “Though it did look like the words were being dragged out of her.”

  “It must be hard for her,” Elizabeth said, “with everyone knowing what her husband did.”

  “But he at least tried to stop it,” Conn said quietly. “He could have tried harder, but he wasn’t part of…”

  Elizabeth looked at her closely. “Are you all right with going back to that store? Mr. Walsh is there now, until his trial. You’ll probably see him.”

  Conn sat up straight. “He’s the one who should not want to see me.”

  When they entered the general store, the ceiling fans were humming as the early August heat was oppressive. The change in the atmosphere was once again palpable, but this time, in a different way. Everyone present parted to make way for Elizabeth and the children. The men and women gathered weren’t exactly friendly, though there were some respectful nods of greeting. Most of them seemed embarrassed, as Conn felt they should be. She was a bit of a curiosity, as they couldn’t seem to help staring at the girl who’d done the things they’d heard about.

  It was Mrs. Walsh who boxed up their grocery order. Mr. Walsh gave them a cursory nod and disappeared into the back. As Elizabeth gathered the box in her arms, Jed and his father came in. Conn almost didn’t recognize either of them. Jed was wearing new blue jeans and a clean shirt, and his father was newly-shaven and cleaned up as well.

  Sam Pancake hurried over. “Let me carry that for you, ma’am,” he said.

  Conn grinned as she looked Jed up and down. She plucked at the sleeve of his shirt as they followed the adults outside. “Where’d these come from?”

  He grinned. “Pa got a real job. He figured I better start dressin’ a little better.”

  “Except when we’re fishing,” she said, grinning back at him.

  His smile broadened. “Yeah.”

  They were quiet for a minute, and then Jed asked, “Are you doin’ okay?”

  Conn shrugged. “I guess.”

  He shook his head. “I just can’t believe – everything. I can’t believe they did that, tried to string Mr. Greene up, and the way you saved his life. Thank the Lord you got out of that house.” He looked down at his hands, cleaner than usual, but still with dirt under the nails. “I don’t know what I’d do if you died. You don’t know how much y’all have changed things ‘round here…”

  There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

  “How are things at Mr. Greene’s house?” she asked.

  “We got most of the burnt stuff hauled away now,” he replied. “Gonna start the new foundation next week, he said.”

  “Ready, Conn?” Elizabeth called.

  “You wanna go fishin’ tomorrow?” Jed asked as he walked Conn to the car.

  “Sure. Early?”

  “Yup. I’ll come get you.”

  “See you,” Conn said, hanging out the car window.

  “See you,” he said with a wave as they drove off.

  §§§

  It was the first autumn after the war, and America was still reeling, both from Lincoln’s assassination and from the efforts to re-unify the divided country. Things such as sugar and coffee were still scarce, but the continued somber atmosphere could not dampen Caitríona’s pride the day they nailed the last clapboard on the new house. “Isn’t it grand?” was all she could say.

  Hannah’s eyes glistened with tears as Caitríona led her inside. “A proper house,” sh
e murmured. “A proper house all our own.”

  For Henry and Ruth, there were no words.

  There was still a great deal of work to do inside – plastering and putting mouldings around the doors and windows, but with the exterior finished, the sense of pride was overwhelming. They invited Lucy over for their first real dinner in the house, sitting at a table and chairs that Henry had made.

  “We’ll have better someday,” he promised.

  Caitríona showed her the hidden stairs.

  “A wise precaution on thy part,” Lucy said, nodding her approval.

  The autumn days were busy with cutting firewood, and harvesting the potatoes and carrots they had planted. With all the building they’d been doing since they arrived, they hadn’t had time to plant much, and would have to buy or trade for most of what they needed to get through the winter, but they all felt immeasurably wealthy.

  The first blast of winter arrived in the form of a mid-November snow, driving them all indoors unless they had to be out. Ruth made a large batch of pumpkin bread, setting the little loaves aside to cool. Hannah was reading to the children while Henry worked on trimming out one of the windows in the sitting room where a cold wind was blowing into the room. They already had lamps lit as the dreary afternoon light was giving way to an early dusk.

  “I’m going to take a couple of these to Lucy,” Caitríona said, wrapping two of the dense, fragrant loaves in a towel.

  “You best take a lantern with you,” Ruth called. “It’ll be dark early.”

  Caitríona pulled on a heavy wool coat and lit a lantern hanging near the door before stepping into the frigid wind outside, which was blowing the falling snow sideways. Her unruly red curls were blown into her face along with stinging pellets of ice and, as she trudged through a light layer of snow toward the woods, she thought she heard something. Looking around in the early twilight, she couldn’t see anything unusual. Deciding it was only the wind, she continued on her way. When she arrived at Lucy’s house, it was dark. Leaving the wrapped bread at the door, Caitríona made her way back through the woods, glad she’d brought the lantern as the trees closed around her.