All That Lives (35 page)

“Whoa, there,” Josh quieted him, and removed his arm from me. I stood solid, my lips tingling from the cold or the kiss I
could not tell. It had happened naturally and been so brief I was not certain it had happened at all.

“I’m sorry, Betsy. I should not be so forward. I did not plan to kiss you. It’s just … you are so pretty, in the snow.” Josh
shrugged, embarrassed, and I did not immediately soothe him.

“I am a girl of good repute!” I decided to tease him a little, holding my nose up and turning my face away, hoping he would
know I was not serious. Almost instantly I longed for him to kiss me again.

“Shall we walk the path a ways?” Josh suggested, changing the subject, loosely tying the horses to a tree. “I saw the mouth
of the cave has icicles of glory.”

“Did you see them last year? They grew almost to the length of the opening!” I was excited we were to walk together.

He reached for my hand and I gave it to him, happy when he squeezed my fingers inside the lamb’s wool gloves, acknowledging
the heat that passed between us in the bitter cold. The ground was frozen hard beneath the snow and it was slippery going
as we climbed the bank. Down below, the river grew wider, cutting an ever deeper swath through the rock. I had not come this
way since the summer storm. The path was steep and we labored in our ascent, until we reached the top and achieved the best
view of the cavern and the clearing below. Winded, I gasped at the winter glory before us. The ten-foot-square mouth of the
cavern held icicles the size of horses’ heads hanging across the top.

“Which one is the longest?” Josh asked and I pointed to the center one. It occurred to me if I were standing with my brothers
instead of Josh, they would be hurling snowballs across the river, hoping to strike an icicle and send it tumbling below.
I felt decidedly pleased they were not present and I squeezed Josh’s gloved hand in mine.

“Did you know …” I thought to tell him a family secret, only it wasn’t really a secret, just something private. “Did you know,
that cave leads all the way to our cold storehouse near the sinkhole? We have a rocky knoll in the hillside way behind the
orchard and across the stream where the entrance lies. You must see it, Josh, for inside the storehouse far in the back, there
is a passageway underground leading after some time to the mouth of that cavern.” I raised my arm to point and noticed Josh
was slow to follow my gaze, preferring to look on my face.

“I hear that cavern is larger than the church.” Josh smiled at me and turned to look where I did, sharing my enthusiasm.

“It is! And it has the most remarkable view in all of Adams, perhaps in all of Robertson County. You can see forever, past
Kate Batts’s pond. John Jr. showed it to me.” I paused and thought of John Jr. on the day he’d taken me into the cave. I had
balked, disgusted by the slimy look of the smooth wet walls, the spiders magnified by the shadows thrown from his candle,
but he had insisted I go on. He encouraged me step by step and I was never more grateful than when I emerged into the great
cavern, hung with olive and purple stalactites, revealing the most lovely view. “Come springtime, perhaps I might ask Mother
if you could help with the storing of the cheese and we might slip away. Then I could show you.”

“I’d like that.” Josh nodded, his cheeks pink with the cold.

Betsy Bell, do not have Josh Gardner.

I was attacked by the sudden arrival of the Being, and a terrible empty feeling struck the pit of my stomach.

You will not go to the cave with him.

Abruptly I sat down on a snow-covered boulder beside the path and Josh sat with me, undisturbed by the cold snow against his
clothing, and equally undisturbed by the Being.

“I have thought a long time on our last encounter, Betsy. We must not listen. It does not speak the truth.” He took my hand
in his with great sensitivity and resolve, having clearly decided the best course of action was to ignore the Being.

Today! Today!

The Spirit’s voice trailed away, dissolving like our frosty breath. I tried to recover my enthusiasm for the moment, but I
was shaken, and remained silent, turning my feelings over in my mind. What if the Spirit spoke the truth? I felt afraid. Why
could I not enjoy a walk through the cave with Josh? What would happen? Why did it speak so certainly against this happy plan
for my future? I felt sorry for myself afflicted as I was, even in my most joyful moments, with strange forebodings of my
future. I thought of Mother’s advice to me to trust the unknown powers watching over us all. Josh squeezed my hand, kind attention
in his face.

“Look at the majesty before us, Betsy! Is not God’s world a lovely place?”

“It is, if God is with you,” I answered, without thought or premeditation, and I believe I was nearly as surprised as Josh
to hear myself profess such lack of faith. He turned and took my shoulders in his hands and looked into my eyes.

“Dear Betsy, never doubt that God is with you! Believe, there can be no greater God than He who walks with you.” He drew my
shoulders to his own and my cheek pressed against the cold wool of his gray jacket. He held me gently, silently, as if he
knew I needed several moments to force away the tears rising in my throat. I think he understood I did not wish to cry. For
several minutes we remained in our embrace, the sound of the snow-covered river a bubbling accompaniment to our quiet stillness.
I felt again the rightness of our being together, but when I could breathe naturally, I drew away. Josh took his hands from
my shoulders and for a breathless moment held my cold cheeks between his leather gloves. Lifting my chin just slightly he
closed his eyes and kissed me again, this time so slowly and deliberately I could not doubt that it was so. His lips were
warm and soft and he pressed them into mine with some certainty, and I pressed back, whereupon our two mouths gently opened
and I tasted the sweetness of his soul. I allowed this ecstasy only for a moment, for though I knew his intentions were honorable
with me, I remained troubled by the Spirit’s words. I pulled back and looked quickly away, afraid to see disappointment in
his eyes.

“How cold it has become.” I noticed the gray air had darkened around us. Without further words, we stood and began our descent
down the path. The wind picked up as we walked, and whistled as we reached the clearing.

“I wonder if we might soon see more snow?” I hugged my arms across my front, watching Josh untie the horses.

“Not yet,” Josh said, frowning at the sky and then at our two restless animals tossing their heads, as if there was something
in the air they could smell or see that we could not. “Here, Betsy, let me help you.” Josh lifted me onto Moses and I recalled
his hands about my waist in the fall when we were tormented with branches. At least the Spirit had not unleashed violence
on us. I was attempting to comfort myself, as I felt unable to return to my prior state of pure enjoyment. The kiss we’d shared
lingered with me as a precious gift I wished to take home and examine privately, but at that moment I had hidden it away.
I watched Josh mount and settle himself, thinking the black snow-covered branches around us, so recently magical, seemed menacing
and strange to me now.

We set out together walking on the path until the river turned again to stream, and there we steered our horses up the bank
so we might ride beside the meadow. Abruptly Moses strained beneath me and reared up, as though startled by some hidden menace.
I held fast, attempting to shorten his reins as we came down to regain control, but suddenly he seemed to be a steed I knew
not. He jerked his head so my grasp was loosened and leaped up the embankment. The laden branches of the trees along the bank
whipped at my hair and back as I struggled to stay astride him. I tore past Josh, who was meant to lead the way.

“Hang on, Betsy,” he cried, as Moses raced to the crest of the hill. I heard the hooves of his horse pounding as he kicked
her to come up behind me. Overcome with fear, I felt frightened and doubted my abilities.

“What should I do?” I called when Josh reached my side.

“Go faster!” Josh shouted, laughing, slapping Moses so hard on his behind he vaulted forward and I was forced to throw my
arms around his neck and simply hang on for dear life as he burst from the trees and soared across the snow-covered field.
As Moses let loose his strength, the ride became smooth as flying in a dream. My fear disappeared, swept away by the tremendous
rush of cold air. Josh raced only a short distance behind me and we flew all the way to the southern boundary before Moses
slowed for a break and Josh reined in his horse so we might stand together.

“Did you enjoy that, Betsy?” Josh’s laughter burst from behind the frosty smoke of his heavy-breathing horse and I could tell
he knew I had.

“Yes, thank you!” I laughed with him. The tension and fear I’d felt as Moses shot up the bank had dispersed like the flakes
of snow kicked up and pummeled by the horses’ hooves.

“It is like flying,” Josh observed.

“Like riding on the wind!”

“I wanted you not to be frightened, dear Betsy.” Josh was cautious in confronting my emotions, but kept a shy smile and his
eyes on mine.

“I was frightened!” I readily admitted the truth, “much more than I care to say.” I wanted to tell him how often I felt frightened.
I wanted to tell him nothing could have been more right than his mastery of my moment of fear. I wanted to say how grateful
I was that he had seen a strength in me I had not known I possessed.

“Sometimes when I am frightened, Betsy, I try simply to
feel
my heart racing, my wild eyes, my quick movements and tension in my limbs. This concentration allows me then to surge forth,
as I bade you do, just now, and in the progress there I find release.” Josh looked endearingly bashful as he spoke his wisdom
and I knew I could trust him with my thoughts.

“Nothing could have been more perfect, Josh.” Holding his smiling eyes to mine, I wanted nothing more than to stay in that
white field for eternity, enveloped in our horses’ breath, warmed by our inner excitement.

“I wish it were not so, but I must get home,” Josh informed me reluctantly, looking away. “I promised my father.”

“If you must, so be it,” I replied, with more acceptance than I felt. I hoped my expression would convey my sincere dismay
that we must part.

“God go with you, Betsy,” Josh said and I smiled at his reminder as I turned Moses to home. Looking back, over my shoulder,
I saw he was watching, not leaving, and I was glad. He waved and I kicked Moses hard, into another flying gallop, wanting
again that exalted feeling of speed, feeling distinctly unafraid. I rode as fast as I could, churning the snow, all the way
back to the stables. I tore into the barnyard, and scared Zeke, who came startled to open the stable door, scowling his greeting
to me.

“Where’s the fire, Miss ’Lizabeth?” He grasped Moses by the nose and helped me down.

“It is Heaven in the meadows, Zeke, sheer Heaven.” I left him to feed Moses, thinking Josh was Heaven sent to me, a light
amidst the dark things in my life.

The boys and Mother were gathered at the dining table for the midday meal. The boys had red cheeks and shiny hair, slick from
their wool caps. They were amusing Mother with tales of their morning frolics and a general air of merriment occupied our
house. Mother had mixed and baked more fruit-cakes than I cared to count and they were cooling on every sill, desk and table.
Their luscious aroma filled our noses, and made the boys dip their bread deeper in Chloe’s winter potato and onion soup.

“If only John Jr. were here, he’d take us for a sleigh ride, Mother.” Joel raised his eyes from his bowl, but I saw him glance
quickly at Drew and Richard, as though they shared a plan. I sensed a movement amongst my brothers to prevail on Mother in
Father’s absence for permission to hitch up the sleigh for an afternoon ride. They had thought of it, just as I had. “The
whole winter will be ruined without John Jr.,” Joel pouted, and I could see he had rehearsed. “Wait!” he sat up brightly as
though a brilliant idea had just occurred to him and we all waited, expectant. “Drewry is old enough to drive the sleigh,
and Betsy too!” He clapped his hands together with unrestrained excitement. I had to smile and I saw Mother do the same. I
hoped she had been taken in.

“Please, please, Mother, might we take him for a ride?” I begged with more enthusiasm than I had shown for many weeks.

“ ’Tis good to see you so robust and happy, dear Betsy,” Mother said, smiling and radiating contentment as strong as the sweet
smell of her cakes. She looked at all our pleading faces. “All right then, you may take the sleigh. Enjoy yourselves, but
be careful, and have Zeke help you bring it from the barn.”

We stood in unison, noisily scattering our chairs, rushing to crowd around the fire and gather our steaming boots and gloves.
“Warm well your feet before you go,” Mother cautioned. “I’ll take back my permission if you don’t!” she threatened, but we
knew that was unlikely. It was just words, called after us like blessings, for she was already picturing her house still and
silent, her fruitcakes cooling in peace. Drewry and I helped Joel and Richard with their things, then raced back outdoors.
We ran down the hill toward the stables and again I was overcome by a feeling of wild abandon at the thought that Father was
not present and could not object to our outing. I felt free and full of energy.

Our family sleigh was a true delight, considered a rare luxury by most in the county, who were not so fortunate to have one.
Dean had taken months to carve the rails from rich mahogany, and it glided like magic across the snow.

“We’ll have to fetch it from the tobacco barn,” Zeke said. He was not enthusiastic, but when we reached it, he helped Drewry
lift and carry the sleigh outside while I got the skins from the cedar chest. Father’s owl was sleeping on its perch and I
avoided looking at it. I concentrated on lifting the big bearskin and the two woolly sheepskins Mother had sewn together with
her strongest spun thread. They would cover our laps and protect our shoulders from the cold. In the yard, Zeke had hitched
Dipsy and another old mare to the harness and the boys were protesting.