250
whither
WILLOW ?
by
Peter J. Ponzo
PROLOGUE
"Why, that Miss Cassandra, she was standing on the table, naked as the day she was born, 'cept fer stuff tangled in her hair, vines or somethin'."
It was January 27, 1917, in Martin's Bar, and Doc Manner was leaning on the table in the darkest corner, and the others, Jonah Winnich and Saul Shulom and Grubby Baker, they all listened intently, barely breathing, their beer standing untouched. The good doctor sucked once on a dead pipe and continued.
"And her body, covered in black - black streaks, all over her body - like she was painted from head to toe in black streaks. Like wavy lines, all over, head to toe. She was hummin', sort of. Her eyes was closed and she was hummin' and the others, they all was hummin' too, 'cept fer Jake who kept lookin' at me. Even the two gals, pregnant, they just started right in hummin'."
Doc shook his head and frowned. The others were silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I'll tell you, I was scared, just a little mind you, but I was scared. They're weird, this family. The whole lot of them, there in that room, their eyes, they was weird."
He put down his pipe and stared into his beer mug and took a deep breath. They all waited.
"Then Miss Cassandra opened her eyes. You never seen anythin' like those eyes. Fiery red and flamin' and shinin' as to light up the room, which was pretty dark just the same. Well, I starts to back out, toward the door, and bumps right into Arnie. He pushes me into the room ag'in and starts to point. He points at Miss Cassandra, then at the others, then he points to the window and starts to cry, shakin' all over. He runs to the window. The others they just ignore him, but Arnie points at the window. It was dark and I couldn't see nothin' out there, just the branches of that big old willow tree bangin' on the window. Arnie looks scared and keeps pointin' at that old willow, so I starts to go and Arnie runs back and grabs me, pullin' me into the room. Now they's all on their feet, Mrs. Kumar and the others. The eyes, funny ... Miss Cassandra is still standing on the table just starin' at me and I could swear ... I could swear ..."
Doc stopped and dropped his pipe. He looked nervous. He stooped to pick up his pipe, but instead leaned heavily against the table.
"Well? What happened then?" Saul whispered. "Doc? You okay?"
"The lines on Miss Cassandra's body. They was movin'. I could swear they was movin', just movin' back and forth, like snakes or somethin'. Twistin' and turnin' and coilin' back and forth, up and down, and she was starin' right at me, eyes burnin' a hole in my head, those red, fiery eyes burnin' a hole …"
CHAPTER 1
Joshua Kumar: June, 1895
The house stood tall and narrow beyond an expanse of lush green lawn. Skyrocket junipers echoed its height as did the narrow stained glass windows, each surmounted by an arc of brick and ornate white woodwork. The massive, carved wooden door was set in the center of the building, bordered on each side by slits of glass that now reflected the morning light.
Joshua Kumar walked directly away from the house, down the walkway covered in white gravel. When he reached the dirt road he turned and looked back, admiringly, at the house. It was perfect, even more perfect than he had expected. The warm spring rains had supported a burst of growth, the lawn and junipers and squat mugho pine, planted just months before. A neatly trimmed forsythia had finished blooming and was now thinly covered in bright green.
The front door opened and Melissa stepped onto the small porch and waved. Joshua grinned then beckoned his wife to join him and together they admired the new home. Beyond the house was an aspen forest and beyond that, barely visible, rising in the morning mist, was Tooly Peak.
Joshua looked down and ran his hand gently over her swollen belly.
"He'll like my new house, ain't that the truth?" he said.
"Oh Joshua! Why do you say he? You may be surprised." She paused and looked down, running her hand carefully over the thin cord which held her apron. "Would you be very disappointed if it's a girl?"
Joshua stared intently at the house, then turned slowly and looked at his wife.
"Melissa, my sweet, you will give me a boy. Don't even think about anything else, a boy, I want a boy." He pulled his wife closer and gazed at the house. Suddenly he brightened. "Melissa? What is missing?"
"Missing? Nothing is missing my dear. Your house is perfect. Nothing is -"
"No! Something is missing. What is it?" Joshua pushed his wife gently aside and stared at her, frowning. "Well? What is missing?"
"I'm sorry Joshua, I don't know what is -"
"A tree! A very large, very beautiful tree. My house needs a tree. Every house needs a tree. My Pa told me that, every house needs a tree ... and that's what's missing." He stared down at Melissa, pride in his face.
"Yes, Joshua. It needs a tree,” she whispered. “What kind of tree do you think -"
"Think Melissa!" he growled impatiently. "A huge tree with branches that hang down, all covered in fine leaves. A tree that you can hide under. The branches will hang to the ground, my boy can hide under the tree. What kind of tree is that?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Joshua."
"Melissa! Think!" Joshua glared. "A tree with branches that my boy can climb. He can hide in the branches. The tree will grow very large and -"
"I don't know -"
"Don't interrupt! I don't like it when you interrupt. Now ... do you know what kind of tree? I will tell you since you seem to know so little about trees." He paused for a moment, until Melissa was attentive to his words. "It is a willow tree!"
Joshua looked triumphantly at his wife. She smiled weakly and he pulled her to him and stared again at the house. "See? Right over there by the left corner, just beside his bedroom window. This tree will grow quickly and will shade his window."
"Joshua, that is a wonderful idea. Now I must go and finish my washing. I am pleased that you have decided on a willow tree. It will make your house even more beautiful than -"
"Yes! Even more beautiful! Now my dear, you go in and do your washing and I will dig the hole for the tree, the very big, very beautiful willow tree."
Melissa walked to the house, holding her stomach carefully as she climbed the stairs to the porch.
"Melissa!" Joshua shouted. "I will call you when it's time to plant the tree! You will help me put it in the ground."
His wife smiled weakly, turned and pulled open the massive door then entered the house.
Joshua walked to the left front corner of the house and stared at the ground. A small rose bush that Melissa had planted stood precisely where he would plant his willow tree. He plucked the bush violently from the ground. A thorn stuck into his thumb and he cursed and threw the bush aside, sucking his thumb and staring at the door through which his wife had entered. She had planted that thorny bush where his willow tree would grow. She was not very bright, but she was pretty.
Joshua smiled to himself. Perhaps he had married her just because she was pretty. Hadn't the boys said that she was quite a catch? Hadn't she refused to go out with any of the boys? When he had taken her to Moss Hill, hadn't he been the envy of the others? The stories he told to the boys about his trips to the Hill, the admiration he had won, and the envy. He grinned at the thought. Moss Hill had done the trick. Her father had insisted that they be married.
Joshua laughed out loud. He was very clever, very clever. His wife was not very bright, but she was pretty.
***
When the hole was deep enough Joshua stood back and wiped his brow. He was a tall thin man with a narrow strip of black beard which ran from his sideburns to his chin, framing his face in a neat border. The rest of his face was clean shaven, his cheeks ruddy and his nose hawkish with a severe corner. Small, bright blue eyes gleamed from beneath shaggy black brows. His hair was straight and long and black, hanging almost to his broad shoulders. Joshua had pulled up his sleeves, the sinewy cords of muscle embossed with veins.
He thoroughly enjoyed manual work. At the mill he amazed his friends by carrying logs that no two others could carry. They talked about that at the mill and he was clearly the envy, and the terror, of the other mill hands. That was because he was just like his Pa. His Pa had been big and strong and everybody in the county feared him. Joshua revered his old man and tried to be just like him, never backing away from a fight and never losing one either. When he was ten his father had taught him to fight, and use an axe. "Don't never mind schooling," his Pa had said. "Learn to fight, to use an axe. Now that's what makes a man."
His father had died when Joshua was sixteen. That was the worst day of his life and he ran away from home and never returned. He cried for days, hiding in the bog so nobody could see him or find him. His Pa had died in a fight. It wasn't fair either. There were four of them against only his old man. But his Pa had killed one of them with an axe, two others had broken bones and had to be taken to the hospital over in Dundee and the last had run away. A coward, Joshua thought, infuriated. When Joshua had come out of the bog he swore that he'd find that last one, and he did. Most people in the county knew Barney Fellows. He and his three friends were always seen together, and when Joshua learned of the three who had attacked his Pa he knew right off who the fourth was.
Joshua found Barney in a bar in Badenberg, waited in Deakins Alley until Barney left the bar, drunk and unsteady, then followed him to Drumbo Creek and jumped him just as he was about to step across the stones which spanned the creek. It wasn't much of a fight. Joshua, even at sixteen, was larger and stronger than Barney so he just plain knocked him down, and chopped off his head with an axe.
"For my Pa. For my Pa and for me," he had said, as the axe fell. "We don't take none to cowards."
Sparrow Lake was more of a swamp than a lake and it was said that it had no bottom. Joshua dragged the body to the lake and threw it in. The body of Barney Fellows vanished immediately and was never seen again.
When Joshua labored alone, he thought of his Pa. Indeed, his Pa seemed closer to him in death than in life. Joshua Kumar was just like his Pa, and his boy would be just like Joshua.
***
Joshua looked into the hole he had dug for the willow tree, wiped his hands on his heavy cloth shirt, stared down at the streak of dirt and smiled. Melissa would clean his shirt just like new. She was good at that. He looked around and saw the tree lying on the ground, almost a single branch with three small yellow leaves at the top. He stooped and picked it up, placed it into the hole and hollered. "Melissa! C'mere! It's time!"
He waited until she had walked carefully to his side, holding her stomach.
"Now, 'lissa, you just hold this here tree in the hole, just like that, and I'll pile the dirt in. Don't move it 'cause it's gotta be straight and true. It's gotta grow tall and straight. Just hold it."
He waited for a moment until his wife held the tree in place, then began to shovel dirt into the hole, stomping it every once in a while. Melissa tried to stand back to avoid the dirt, but her dress was soon covered in mud. She didn't say anything. She knew better than to complain. Her husband had a terrible temper.
Done, Joshua backed up to admire the tree. "It ain't straight 'lissa! You didn't hold it straight! How can it grow tall and true if'n you don't hold it straight! You ain't too bright but ... but, Melissa," he smiled, "you're pretty, right?" Joshua chuckled, grabbed the tree and jerked it. It straightened and he stomped on the ground around its base. "Good! That's done! Now you can git back to yer washin'."
He lifted the large pail of water and poured it carelessly about the tree. Streams of mud ran onto his boots, but he took no notice. Melissa walked slowly back to the house, turning once to see Joshua sitting on the damp ground, admiring his willow.
"She's a beauty," he muttered. "This here tree will shade my boy's window. My boy will climb the branches, the branches will hang to the ground, big branches covered in little leaves. Yup ... she's a beauty, this tree." Suddenly he laughed aloud at the joke, throwing back his head. "Melly is just like this tree ... not too bright ... but she's pretty!" He laughed again and fell backward onto the ground, still laughing. He'd tell the others about Melly and the willow. "Not too bright, but pretty."
When he jumped to his feet his boots and shirt were covered in streaks of dark mud. He walked to the porch, punched open the door and entered the house.
Melissa was stirring the soup. Joshua sniffed the air, patted her on the buttocks then slumped into an upholstered chair, sliding down so his feet were sticking straight across the small carpet.
"I'll have my wine now," he said.
Melissa slid the pot off the fire and walked carefully around Joshua's feet, to the cabinet. Joshua watched her intently. He had admired this little woman. She was half his size, slender and dainty. She was just a piece of fluff. Her hair hung in long neat curls and her eyes sparkled. He had always admired the way her hair hung down and how the dress clung to her slim body.
That was then. Now, she was almost grotesque, with distended belly and a walk, once so delicate, a waddle. He grunted as she placed the jug and glass on the small hand-made table next to the chair and returned to the stove. Lifting the jug to his lips, he drank deeply, the red liquid trickling down his cheeks, vanishing into his beard.
"'lissa? I have an idea. What do you think it is?" Joshua banged the jug onto the table.
"I'm sure I don't know, Joshua." She stopped, turned to look at him, then continued with the soup.
"I'll give you a little hint. It's about my boy. It's when he's -"
"Joshua, what if it's a girl - what if -?"
"Don't interrupt! I hate it when you interrupt!" Joshua leaned forward, frowning, his huge hands clasping his knees. His baby would be a boy. He would be the son that Joshua was to his Pa. "Now listen to me. When my boy is one year old," he said harshly, emphasizing the word boy, "guess what I'll do?" Joshua stuck out his legs and leaned back, frowning and squinting at his wife.
Melissa shook her head and continued to stir the soup, occasionally looking over her shoulder at her husband, cautious not to anger him.
Pleased that he had her attention, Joshua continued. "You can't imagine? Just think a little. Can you do that, think a little?" He laughed at the words. "Can you do that, think a little?"
Melissa shook her head again.
"Okay 'lissa, this is what I'll do when my boy is one year old. I'll take him out to the bog and we'll get us some ducks. That old swamp has lots of ducks in the Fall. They'll jest drop down into the bush and set there in the water, jest awaitin' for me 'n' the boy. I'll teach him to shoot, to catch rabbit and groundhog. When he's one year he'll know how to shoot a gun, handle an axe and -"
"Joshua, that's much too young," she said tentatively.
"Melissa! I don't like it when you interrupt! Hear?" He rose suddenly and stalked out of the room.
Melissa looked at the chair. It was covered with streaks of mud. She sighed and continued to stir the soup.
October, 1895
The first snow had come in early October and stayed on the ground. The aspen in back of the property still waved a few yellow leaves and the dark mushrooms made the ground lumpy, pushing through snow and fallen twigs. Joshua finished chopping the wood, pulled off his woolen cap and wiped his brow. There was enough wood for the Winter even if the snow did come early this year. He was prepared for an early snow, he was prepared for anything. His Pa had taught him to be prepared. His Pa was very clever and he, Joshua, took after his Pa, and his boy would take after him. Now he would go into town and have a beer with the boys. He spun about and marched into the house.
After stoking the fire and changing his cap Joshua stood by the kitchen door. His wife was enormous, her belly hanging before her like a cow's udder. He gazed at her for some time as she folded the laundry. He wondered when his son would arrive. He had already warned Doc Manner to be prepared, as prepared as Joshua was: he had made a crib and a rocking horse, a rack to hold the boy's rifle and a box to hold the toys. Melissa had asked for the toy box. Joshua had resisted, his boy would not be playing much with toys, but Melissa had asked and asked and he had finally given in. She was sometimes very persistent. She had a way of repeating some wish so often that he just gave in, instead of listening to her nagging.
Wives shouldn't nag. There was no reason for them to nag. They had no worries, they just had to do the washing and cooking. A simple life, just wash and cook, sometimes darn socks. Once in a while they would do a little wood chopping, but not often. Just darn socks, maybe mend his shirt ... and clean the house once or twice a week. He had to prepare for everything, worry about everything. Wives just darn socks ... maybe touch up the porch with a little paint or carry water from the well or fold laundry or buy groceries or ...
Joshua shook his head. Why was he thinking about such things? The boys were waiting at Martin's Bar.
"Melly, I'm goin' to town ... keep supper hot. The fire's stoked and there's more wood in the back porch."
He turned and walked to the front door without waiting for her response. Melissa nodded and continued to fold the pile of laundry heaped on the kitchen table.
Melissa Kumar was a pretty young woman with pink complexion and, except for the distended belly, every feature was miniature: small nose, lips, ears and twinkling blue eyes. She had let her hair grow since before she was married because Joshua had insisted. Now it cascaded in rolling curls down her back. One day she would cut it short, but only if Joshua agreed.
When she heard the front door close with a thud she went to the window and watched Joshua until he had walked over the hill on his way to town. Then she went to the cupboard and reached behind the pile of dishes. She sat wearily at the table and read the letter, a letter she had read many times in the last week. It was from Doc Manner and it was addressed to Joshua. She had opened it knowing what it would say. Joshua must not see it, but he would know soon, and what would she do then? Joshua was a good provider and almost always had work, mostly in the mill over Dundee way. And she thought she loved him, yes, she was sure that she loved him, but she must not make him angry.
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 shook 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.
She gently placed her first born into the hole. It was wrapped in her shawl, but she arranged the small body so that it wasn't defiled by the touch of Joshua's body.
***
"Hey! Melissa! Still planting willow trees? Is Josh about? I come to help him with the haulin'."
Arnie vaulted easily from his horse and walked toward the corner of the house. Melissa dropped the shovel and ran to meet him half-way. It had started to snow.
"Arnie, come in for a coffee," she panted. "Joshua is in town. What hauling were you going to do?" She took a deep breath and spoke calmly, smiling broadly and sweeping the curls from her face, straightening her wrinkled dress and gazing warmly at Arnie.
"I told Josh I'd help him haul some wood from the bush, back o' the house there. Can't imagine how he'd forgot that. What's he doin' in town? He asked me only yesterday. Coffee? I'd love some coffee, hot 'n' black."
Arnie admired Joshua's wife. He always hoped that Arnie would share her, like the other girls. She was slim and... slim?
He looked at her stomach. She was slim! She had had her baby!
"Doc Manner said you would have a girl," he said excitedly, expecting Melissa to confirm or deny. She just smiled. Arnie waited, staring intently at Melissa then, realizing that she wasn't about to say nothing, he continued. "Guess Josh weren't too happy hearin' that, but he'll get used to it, in time. I told him, I says, a gal is jest as good as a boy, but ol' Josh he was real fired up and hoppin' mad."
Arnie followed Melissa into the house and sat at the table in the small kitchen. She smiled as she poured the hot water into the pot. "He got over it soon enough," she said. "Here, have a cup of fresh coffee."
Arnie drank the coffee in several quick slurps. "You shouldn't oughta be diggin' in the garden you know. I'll jest go out there and finish yer diggin' for yuh."
"No! I mean ... it's finished, now. I'll wait for Joshua to come home. He can put the tree in. It's his tree you know. I planted roses but he wanted... he insisted on a tree. Not just any tree, had to be a willow."
Arnie grinned and rose from the table. "Yup. That's Josh alright. Got everythin' figured down to the last sliver. Well Melly, gotta go. Tell Josh I been here."
"Yes," sighed Melissa. "Joshua planned for everything, almost ."
Arnie walked to the front door and looked back at Melissa. She sure was a pretty gal. Dainty, petite, just a piece of fluff. Why didn't she speak of the baby? He waved and left.
Melissa watched through the window. Arnie walked partway down the path, his footprints clear in the newly fallen snow, then he turned and looked at the willow tree and the open hole. He paused, then began to walk toward the shovel leaning against the house. Melissa ran to the door.
"Arnie, please leave it for Joshua! He asked me to let him plant the tree, his tree. He'd be mad if it was already planted, you know Josh." She smiled, a sweet and pretty smile and Arnie nodded.
"Yeah, I know ol' Josh," he said shaking his head. He turned and continued down the walk toward his horse, tied to the hitching post by the road. He waved again as he disappeared over the hill.
Melissa looked at the hole and walked over to fill it with dirt. The body had been covered with a light covering of snow, but the bloody nose still showed, and the eyes looked open again. She pushed the first shovel of dirt onto his face.
After a time she pushed the slim willow into the hole and stamped on the dirt around the base. She finished just as the sun vanished behind a cloud. She looked up at the darkening sky. It was going to snow again. They had been predicting it for several days. It was going to be a real heavy snow. She stamped the ground once more and went inside to light a fire and rest. Tonight she would make a nice hot stew with potatoes from the root cellar and carrots and squash and some of the venison which hung in the shed. Tonight she would sleep soundly, she and her baby girl. Tomorrow she would go to town and buy groceries: bacon and sugar and flour and maybe some candy, some sweet chocolate. She loved sweet chocolate. And the Martin folk had puppies, so she might just pick one up. A brand new puppy. That was good.
She pulled open her blouse and the baby suckled contentedly, and Melissa closed her eyes and leaned back and smiled.
Life was good.
CHAPTER 3
Arnie Brubacher: December, 1895
It had begun to snow early in the morning and didn't let up until late in the afternoon. It was a gentle snow, but before long it was difficult to distinguish the road from the shoulders. Arnie Brubacher stared out the window, then at his pocket watch: 4 o'clock. He had been staring out the window for some time. It was Christmas Eve and he was alone. Tomorrow it would be Christmas and he would still be alone. Last year at this time Joshua Kumar had invited him for a turkey dinner; Melly made a fine dinner with sweet potatoes and kale and Brussel sprouts. She had asked him to collect the kale from out back, covered in snow. It’s best after a frost, she had said.
This year he would be alone. Melissa would be alone too.
Josh had left Melly and not returned. Josh was a fool, a crazy fool. Josh had everything a man could want: a fine house, work at the mill and a pretty wife, a very pretty wife. Why would he give it all up? Why would he leave Melly? Somebody would be sure to come courtin' before long. Somebody, for sure.
Arnie leaned out of his chair, stood up and looked again at his watch. Melly would be alone too. She would sit alone at the table, eatin' alone. What would she be eatin' for Christmas? He could bring a turkey, the big tom out back. He could go to Melly and suggest that they eat together, a big turkey with stuffin' and sweet potatoes and kale. No, that would be wrong. Joshua would have to give him an invite. But Josh was gone. Left poor Melly and the baby alone. They would have to eat alone at Christmas, he and Melly. It wasn't right. Everybody needed somebody, at Christmas.
He walked to the door, pushed his feet into the tall boots, pulled his heavy coat from the rack and left. Maybe he should walk. His horse could stay in the barn this Christmas Eve. If he showed up at Joshua's house without a horse then Melissa would say Arnie, you must stay for the night. It's such a long walk back. You really must stay for the night.
Arnie smiled and went around the back and into the barn and got himself the big turkey and lopped off its head and stuffed it into a burlap bag. Then he started to walk toward Joshua's house.
Melly was sure pretty and Josh was sure lucky and he, Arnie Brubacher, had no a wife, even one not so pretty. Sure, he had gone out with lots o' gals and they seemed to like him, but now that he thought back it was better, much better when Josh was around. Together they could always find some gals for the night, but ever since Josh went away, well it weren't so easy any more. Even after Josh got married up with Melly they would still go after the gals in the next county, which was more than Arnie could figure: Josh already had the prettiest gal in Waterloo County. But now Josh was gone and maybe Melly was a little bit lonely and needed somebody to look after her ... now that she had a baby and all. Especially at Christmas. Everybody needed somebody at Christmas, to share a meal and laugh together and drink hot wine by the fire.
Arnie walked through the early evening, kicking the little piles of snow on the road, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, collar pulled high about his neck, the burlap bag tied around his waist. His parents hadn't thought Christmas was so special, just another day. He had to clean the barn, feed the chickens, brush down the horses and gather fire wood. No fancy dinner, no presents, just another working day. Then his Ma and Pa died, one right after t'other, and Aunt Paula had taken him to live with her. He didn't even know they were sick. They just died, first his Pa then, a week later, his Ma. His Pa was even chopping wood, just the day before he died. He didn't really know his Pa all that well, never talked much. Pa spent most evenings sitting by the window, looking over the weekly tabloid. Arnie was sure his Pa couldn't read, but he spent most evenings turning over them pages just the same.
Aunt Paula lived alone in a big old house just outside the village, never got married and never seemed to know anybody outside the family. But she would say everybody needs somebody to share a meal at Christmas, so, come December, she would start on her cookies and Christmas day all his cousins showed up real early and the house was warm and filled with laughin' and they would have a big turkey dinner with all the trimmings then sit by the fire and tell stories and Aunt Paula would pass around the fancy box of little cookies. She never used that box for anything except those cookies and she never made them except at Christmas. The year she was real sick she still got out of bed and made those little cookies and when they all sat on the floor around the fire Aunt Paula was wrapped in that red blanket on the big old chair by the chimney with her eyes closed, and it wasn't until they all started talking about going to bed that they saw that she was dead.
Everybody needs somebody to share a meal at Christmas.
This Christmas he and Melly would share a meal. Arnie stopped and hitched up the burlap bag and tightened the knot, pushed his hands deep into his pockets again and started down the hill to Josh's house, smiling.
It was dark when he got there, but he could see a light from the window running warm and soft across the snow, almost to the road. Just one light, in the kitchen window. He walked up the driveway and around to the side of Josh's house and through the window he saw Melly at the stove. She was wearing a bright red dress and her hair was different, short and curly. And her lips, they were red; she was using red stuff on her lips and powder on her cheeks. He stared through the window for a long time. He had forgotten how pretty she was. Melly slid the pot off the stove and took a plate from the cupboard. Now was the time to knock on the door, just in time for supper. He walked quickly around to the front door stopping only for a moment to gaze at the small willow tree covered in snow.
"Arnie, what a nice surprise," said Melissa, stroking her hair and straightening her dress. "You must have some stew, hot from the stove. I was just about to eat and I would be pleased to have you join me."
"No Melly, I can't stay ... jest came 'cause I brought this tom turkey." He held the burlap bag at arms length, standing as tall as he could manage."Thought you might like -"
"Arnie Brubacher you come in this minute," she scolded. "And you will have some stew. Take off your coat, put it on the hook right there. The stove is hot and the kitchen is warm. Don't track snow into the kitchen. Put your big old boots there."
Arnie grinned and did as he was told. She sure was jest full o' fire.
He finished his plate of stew, filled with potatoes and turnips and beans and thick slices of bacon. Melissa placed the pot in front of him.
"You've a long way to go and it's cold. Dig into the pot. There's more hot stew at the bottom."
She sat back and watched him scooping out the last of the stew with a chunk of freshly baked bread. Finally he leaned back and grunted, placing his stubby hands on his stomach.
"Melly, you sure cook good. Never tasted a better stew. Josh ... he's jest a fool for runnin' off and leavin' you like this." Melissa hung her head and blushed. "You look fine Melly, very fine indeed. I ain't never seen you so pretty."
Arnie stared at her for a moment, grinning. Then, as though he had forgotten something, he jumped up and walked to the window, staring out across the moonlit fields covered in snow, cocking his head to one side.
"Hear that wind? Looks like it's gonna storm."
He looked at Melissa from the corner of his eye and continued. "That big tom turkey, it's for your Christmas supper. It's the last of my toms, but don't worry yourself none. Next Spring I'll get me some more from Jason over in Badenberg." Arnie paused and shook himself. "Did you ever see a wind like that? It's jest blowin' like it was in some big hurry." He looked at Melissa. She was clearing the table. "Well, guess I should head home ... walk home ... in that howlin' wind."
"Arnie, I thank you kindly for the turkey. You must come for supper tomorrow ... unless of course you have plans for Christmas?"
"No! No! None at all. I'd be most pleased to come for supper tomorrow. Indeed, yes. Everybody needs somebody ...," he started to say, then thought better of it and looked once more out the window and shivered. "Well, guess I should be walkin' home."
Melissa walked to the front door and Arnie followed. He put on his coat and slid into his boots, very slowly. She opened the door and he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek as she stood, her back to the wall.
"Mr. Brubacher! What are you thinking, kissing me like that? What if someone saw us?" She closed the door and leaned back against it, staring at Arnie, her hands behind her back, her body arched toward him, breasts pushing tight against her blouse. "I'm surprised at you ... what if someone -"
Arnie pulled her into his arms. "Melly, I need you, I love you. I've always loved you ever since ... since before ol' Josh married you." He blurted it out, stumbling over the words, held her tightly and she clung to him, then abruptly pushed him away and looked up at him.
"Mr. Arnie Brubacher. Take off your coat. It's much too cold to walk home tonight, especially in a storm. You'll stay the night and you'll split some firewood and you'll help me with the turkey tomorrow."
Arnie grinned, put his hand to his cheek, pulled at his nose, stepped back a step, took a deep breath, stumbled to the coat rack, put his heavy coat on the rack and slipped off his boots. His face was bright red, his eyes wide with delight. Melissa stood with her hands on her hips. He never saw her act with such authority. She was just wonderful. He backed awkwardly toward the kitchen, still looking at Melissa. She turned and stared out the strip of glass at the side of the front door. The night was calm and bright. There was no sign of any howling wind. She smiled, then followed Arnie into the kitchen.
"Melly? I can sleep in the living room, on the sofa. I don't even need a blanket, I'll be plenty warm with my coat. I'll just stay on the sofa -"
"Arnie," she said slowly, with exaggerated deliberation, "you will sleep with me tonight."
Arnie stopped talking, stopped breathing, his mouth open, and he stuttered. "Melly, in your ... do you mean ... uh -"
"Arnie Brubacher, tonight you will sleep with me ... in my bed."
Arnie closed his mouth, suddenly. His face lit up the room.
***
Arnie woke to the smell of hot coffee and bacon. He lay in bed, Joshua's bed, staring at the ceiling, hands behind his head. He went over the events of the previous night. Melissa was wonderful. How could he have imagined that she was just a piece of fluff? That's what Josh always said, but she was full of fire and brimstone. He arched his back, stretched, closed his eyes.
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