Dark Witness (17 page)

Melody pushed the plate forward, not expecting a response but hoping for one. Just once. Just to make things a little more interesting. She nudged the plate forward again.

"You have to eat now, Pea. I have things to do. There's more work with two extra people. Please, Pea. Eat now."

Melody tried not to sound irritated, but she did. What she didn't know was whether or not Pea understood or cared. Teresa said Pea knew everything. Teresa said Pea's every sense was a thousand times greater than any human being. Teresa said that Pea was so
Within
and content that she could not bear to come out and into the world. But that was Teresa talking. Teresa said that Pea used to speak to her, but Melody didn't believe it.

"Pea? Please."

If silence was golden then Pea was cast in 24 karat. Melody suffocated under the weight of her silence. When she thought she couldn't stand one more second in the presence of this woman, Pea's right hand twitched, and Melody's heart quickened. She was not immune to the magic of Pea as much as she would like to think she was. Melody leaned forward as she always did; her eyes went to Pea's right hand as they always did.

The woman's thumb moved and then the pointer and the middle finger. Finally, all the fingers on that hand arched until the hand itself resembled a spidery, spindle-legged thing with a life of its own. That hand walked over the rug at a right angle but before Pea touched her hip, the hand moved at another right angle and spider-walked toward the plate. One finger touched the pottery tentatively as if expecting it to be hot. When it was not, another joined it and then another until three fingers skittered over the plate and took up a piece of bacon.

The bacon disappeared under the long fall of black hair. Back came the fingers. Up went the bacon. Five times this happened and then the two rounds of ham. Melody strained to catch just a glimpse of the woman's face.

The one time Melody tried to part her hair so Pea could see who brought her food each day, the woman lashed out. She was crazy strong, slapping and biting at Melody. All the while, her head hung down, and her face remained hidden, and the only sound from Pea was a brutal belch followed by snake-like hiss. By the time Melody got help, Pea was
Within
again, and Melody was in
Hours
where she
prayed that her sin of trespass against Pea would be forgiven
.
Now Melody sat and watched Pea eat.

When the last piece of bacon was gone and Pea was still again, Melody washed Pea's fingers with the little cloth she carried in her pocket, picked up the plate, and started to leave the room. In a few hours Teresa would bathe her, dress her, and lay Pea down to sleep. In the morning this would start all over again.

As she turned her back, Melody heard the click and the whirl and trill of noises that signaled Pea was back in whatever world she inhabited. Melody put down the plate, opened the door, picked up the plate, and was almost through the door when she heard something different.

Melody listened more closely. When she was sure the sound had not come from Hannah's room, she bent her knees and put the plate down. Slowly, she turned and opened the door wider. She peered through the gloom. Pea was as Pea always was: hands on the floor, white gown cascading around her prone figure, dark hair covering her face.

"What, Pea? What?"

Melody inched into the room. Though she didn't think it was possible, the house had become even more still: no clatter of Teresa's pans downstairs, no thump of Glenn's ax as he perpetually chopped his wood, no moaning from Hannah as she turned in her bed. In all her years, Melody imagined very little except how it would feel to be loved. Now she imagined she had heard Pea speak. Melody tilted her head and took another step toward Pea. She shut the door with the greatest care.

She prayed that Duncan would not disturb them because the import of this moment was not lost on her. If Pea had spoken to her then didn't it follow that Melody was blessed? Didn't it follow that if Pea spoke to Duncan, and Pea spoke to Melody, then Melody and Duncan were joined in blessedness, bound together for eternity in the service of Pea? Melody's heart, so dried up and unused, could accept no other logic; her brain, so single minded and hopeful, could entertain no other explanation.

Careful not to move too quickly, Melody slid across the slick floor, lowered herself to the ground, and was on her knees in front of Pea once again. The woman was clicking like the tick of a second hand and then she trilled a scale. Melody pulled back, confused and disappointed. They weren't heading in the right direction. Still, she had heard something, she was sure of it.

Melody put her hand on the floor, ready to push herself upright and run to get Duncan. If Pea was going to speak, she should speak to Duncan. But Melody didn't push herself up. She didn't leave the room or run lightly down the stairs to get Duncan because this could be nothing more than Melody's wishful thinking. Or it could be a little trick of the silence. Possibly it was nothing more than the wind in the eaves or the house settling. Duncan disliked hysteria. He would not think more highly of Melody if she ran to him with tales, and that was why she leaned closer to Pea. Not close enough to touch her, but close enough to hear if she decided to say a word again. Melody's breath was almost gone; her heart was nearly beaten to pulp; her brain was filled up with as much anticipation as it could handle.

"Come out, Pea," she whispered.

Pea trilled.

Melody licked her lips. Ten seconds. That's what she would give Pea.

One second. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Melody could feel the hardwood beneath the pillow where she knelt waiting on Pea.

Six. Seven.

Melody felt the warmth from the stove turn to heat. She began to sweat. Still Pea said nothing.

Eight seconds.

Melody put her hand on the floor, ready to rise and leave.

Nine.

Her heart fell. She was no more special in this moment than she had been when she walked through the door. Melody stood up and looked down on the girl/woman's finely shaped head and counted the last second.

Ten.

Melody turned toward the door. Before she could take a step, she heard:

"Numbers 12:1"

Melody stopped. Her shoulders slumped. Her head fell back. She listened.

"Numbers 12:1"

Melody turned, sank to her knees, placed her hand flat on the floor and bowed her head. She listened to the seconds marked not by Pea's click and whirl, but by the voice of God himself.

"Numbers 12:1"

***

Mama Cecilia ate Cheerios. On the yellow box there was a picture of a little boy holding up a spoon filled with Cheerios, and in front of him was a bowl filled with more Cheerios. It seemed to Mama Cecilia that Cheerios made the boy very happy. Perhaps, she thought, she did not feed her son enough Cheerios and that was why he had been so unhappy. She doubted the wisdom of this, but that was how her thoughts went since her son had left and was now away for longer than ever before.

Mama finished her Cheerios and closed up the box. She washed her bowl, and put it to dry. Then, as she had done each day since her son had gone, Mama put on her
amaut
and her good moccasins. Usually, she would go to look for him, but this was not daytime. This was evening, and it was too dark to look for anything much less a son. Still, she had a place to go and a plan. She would go to Oki. The
Angakoqus
. The shaman.

Before she left, Mama Cecilia looked in her drawer and found a very sharp knife with a white handle. The knife looked like ivory, but it was not. Still, it looked like ivory and that was better than not looking like ivory. She put the knife into her deep pocket and left the house.

One small foot was put in front of the other, her plump hands hung at her sides, her back was straight, and her hair braid was so tight it did not even swing with her walking. It was a long while and far away, but eventually she was at Oki's house. He was old, so one would think he would not work any longer yet he did. One did not simply stop being a shaman any more than one stopped being a mother.

Mama Cecilia knocked on the door of his house. It was a nice house, bigger than Mama's and painted only five years earlier by a man with a camera that had come to make a film about Oki. The man never sent the movie to Oki, so no one was sure if he was in it or not. Still, his house had been painted a beautiful blue. Blue like the ocean and not like the river. Eventually, Oki came to answer her knock. He opened the door, not too fast or too slow. He was not surprised to see her, or at least it did not sound like he was surprised when he said:

"It is you, Cecilia."

"Yes, Oki. I have come for your help, please."

"I have my program." He opened the door wider so that she could see the television. People were dressed in funny clothes and seemed to be yelling at one another as well as at the man with the microphone.

"I see, Oki, but perhaps you might make an exception. I have brought you this."

Mama Cecilia took the knife from her pocket. It was best to bring something to the shaman to show your gratitude. She held the knife on the palms of both hands for him to take. He inclined his head this way; he cocked it that way. Finally, he took her gift.

"It is a fine knife, Cecilia."

When he motioned to her, she followed him into his house. The room where he spent his time was full of things: books and papers, an easy chair, a bench, a couch and a table. On the table there were Oki's things: cigarettes, a lighter, a glass to drink from, and glasses for his eyes. There was a lamp carved like an eagle that Mama liked very much.

From the small table by the easy chair, Oki picked up the remote and pointed it at the television. The screaming people in strange clothes disappeared. He sighed a little as if he missed them. Oki put the remote on the table and the knife in a table drawer.

"You wait a little," he said.

Mama did just that. She did not sit. She did not touch his things. She did not look at the pictures on the wall. She did not unfasten her
amaut
. When Oki called, she went to the back room.

This was a small space with two chairs and a table. There was a curtain and Oki was behind the curtain. Mama Cecilia sat down and put her hands in her lap. On the table was a large stone. It had a name and that name was Labradorite, but Mama did not know that name. She only knew that it was frozen fire fallen from the Aurora Borealis, and it was very precious and important to Oki's work. There were also two carvings: one of the wolf and one of the bear; one made of wood and the other of stone.

Suddenly, Mama Cecilia heard a moan and a cry. The curtain shook and in only a moment Oki appeared. On his shoulders was a cape of hide and needles. There was a hat upon his head. His old face was streaked with red.

"The spirits are warring," Oki exclaimed. He pointed to his face. "Is this not the proof that there is war?"

Mama Cecilia nodded but only in her brain. It was not her way to answer questions that had obvious answers. She saw the red upon his face. That was proof of the spirit war although Mama Cecilia knew this was not truly spirit blood. Oki had rubbed something red on his face. Mama also knew the brain was a feeble thing; it was the heart that was the center of all knowledge. She believed the spirits were at war because he said so, and because bad things had been visited upon her house, and because her heart hurt. She blinked once as Oki turned in a slow circle. When he came back, he rose up a bit, raised one crooked old finger, and narrowed his crinkled eyes.

"The bear says to the wind, 'can you not blow the other way so I can smell who it is that hunts me?'" Oki turned full circle. He raised a crooked finger on the other hand. "And the wind says to the bear, 'I can blow but one way, the way I am meant to blow. You must wait until you can smell the hunter. Until then you will use your eyes and your ears to find the one who hunts'."

Oki sang a bit and danced a little, and when he was done with his trance, he sat across from Mama Cecilia and picked up the frozen colors fallen from the Aurora Borealis. The stone helped him see into the future.

"I know what you wish to find, Cecilia," Oki said.

"Yes, I am looking for my–"

"Do not name the person you are looking for," he admonished.

For a moment, Mama Cecilia's motherly longing interfered with her good sense. She knew that it was wrong to name the thing you wanted to be told about. The bad spirits were all around. Some were looking to harm that thing that should not be named. She did not want her son harmed. She did not want anyone harmed. Mama put her lips together tightly so the bad spirits would not hear her ask for her son.

"I will tell you this. In the war there are survivors, Cecilia. As with all wars, there is a victor and one who is not a victor. Even in the spirit world. There are the deer and there are the wolves. Sometimes the victor is swift and other times the victor is strong."

Oki sat back. He slipped the hat from his head and slowly took away the cloak of hide and needles. He looked very tired as if he had just traveled a great distance. His old face was lined deeper for the spirit war, his black hair seemed dull but the silver in it still shined. He was a shaman for a while, but now he was once again a man who liked to see the people on television. That was fine. He had told Mama Cecilia what she needed to know.

"Thank you, Oki, for showing me the way. I will use my eyes and not just my nose. I will not worry about the wind and which way it blows. I think I will win the war."

"I think, Cecilia, you did not need me to tell you that," he answered.

"Still, it is good to know the spirits have spoken to me through you," she answered politely, with gratitude and respect.

"Not many believe any more," he lamented. The stuff on his face no longer looked like battle wounds but like rivers of red tears.

Mama said nothing. Oki spoke the truth and when the truth was spoken there were no extra words that would make it truer.