Scarecrow (15 page)

“I’m…I’m really kind of tired,” I gave what I hoped was a disappointed shrug, but before Rachel could answer, Seth shoved back his chair and got up.

“Won’t be going anywhere today.”

“Oh?” Rachel smiled up at him, as if every word he uttered was of the utmost importance.

“Got that smokehouse to finish, and it looks like rain. I’ll have to go another time.”

“Well, maybe tomorrow,” Rachel consoled me.

I averted my eyes quickly so she wouldn’t see the relief there. “Yes…maybe I’ll feel better.”

“You just rest up today then. Do you like to read?”

I stared at the empty place beside her, trying to keep my mind on what she was. saying. “Yes, very much. Uh…where’s Micah?”

“Lord only knows. Outside somewhere. In his own little world, I reckon.”

I gripped my fork so tightly that it hurt. Girlie picked up her spoon and began to lick it slowly, watching me the whole time.

“I never see him. Doesn’t he like being inside?” I asked casually.

“About as much as an animal likes a cage.” She passed me more bacon but I shook my head. “There’s a few books in the front room if you want to look at them. I’m afraid they’re pretty old, though, and not up-to-date—”

“This whole
place
is old and not up-to-date,” Franny muttered.

There was a stab of fear in the air—I felt it just as surely as my own intake of breath—and as I glanced up at Seth, I didn’t like the expression I saw.

“Why don’t you go think about what you just said.” Seth’s voice was low with controlled fury, and he never batted an eye, not even when Franny jumped up and stormed outside, slamming the door behind her.

“She didn’t mean anything,” Rachel said gently. “She’s just—”

“Ungrateful,” Seth finished. “And disrespectful.”

“She’s restless,” Rachel reminded him. “All girls her age are. Aren’t you going to finish your—”

“I don’t care about other girls her age.” Seth drained the last of his coffee and strode to the door. “Franny doesn’t know how lucky she is.”

I gritted my teeth as he banged the door behind him, and Rachel sighed, smoothing back a strand of Girlie’s hair. I wished I had the nerve to tell him that Franny wasn’t totally wrong, that this whole place was like a backward alien world. Instead I met Girlie’s vacant eyes and said nothing, feeling another twinge of guilt that my refusal to take Franny away with me was still contributing to her foul mood.

“I really think things will be better once I leave,” I told Rachel truthfully,

“Oh, Pamela, please—this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I’m afraid it does,” I said, not wanting to give too much away.

“She’s moody, that’s all it is. She’d be that way whether you were here or not.”

“Do you think Dewey might come today?” I looked anxiously out the window as if my saying the words might somehow conjure up his arrival.

“I’m just as worried as I can be.” Rachel turned her cup slowly around and around on the tabletop. “I just can’t figure what’s held him up. It’s not like him to be so late…and I’m almost out of salt.” She paused, then laughed lightly. “Will you listen to me—here I am fretting over salt while you’re so worried about getting home.”

So she really did understand. Somehow her statement made me feel better. I wasn’t a prisoner here and never had been. Rachel was just as concerned as I was that I get back home, where I belonged.

She gave Girlie a playful swat on the rear and began spooning food onto a clean plate. “I wish Micah would come have something. I swear he’d starve to death if we didn’t remind him to eat.”

The dank hole…the chains…it doesn’t make sense.
I blocked the image from my mind and spoke up eagerly. “I’ll be glad to go and find him.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you, but Girlie can usually find where he’s hiding—”

“No, really, I don’t mind,” I said cheerfully. “I’d like to walk a bit after that good breakfast.”

Rachel stared at me. “But I thought you weren’t up to walking today.”

My eyes remained on hers, my mind racing. “Well…I just meant I’m not up to walking long distances. In fact, I was just thinking maybe some fresh air would be good for me.

“Well, you’re probably right about that, but you hardly ate enough to even fill you up,” she scolded laughingly. “All right, then. Thank you, Pamela.”

I followed Girlie out back, feeling strangely—what?—disappointed? What had I expected anyway, secrets and mysterious looks when Micah’s name was mentioned? Frantic excuses for his absence? Hurried cover-ups for his whereabouts? Suddenly last night’s fears seemed very silly. For all I knew, Girlie’s overactive imagination had entangled me in a favorite tale of make-believe: an old abandoned cellar, a brown stain on some straw, some chains in a wall that had probably been used to hold barrels in place…Yes, suddenly I felt more than a little foolish.

Seth’s prediction wasn’t unfounded. As Girlie and I headed into the woods I felt weighted down with dampness, and the sky hung low and black. Before we’d gone ten yards I heard the first patter of raindrops on leaves, but it stayed at a sprinkle, so we went on. I was ready to turn toward the smokehouse, but Girlie, after pausing and gauging the air, turned the opposite way. I hesitated, remembering that Franny’s secret place lay somewhere in that general direction, but when Girlie gave me an impatient wave, I followed reluctantly.

I needn’t have been so concerned. We heard the raised voices before we even reached the hollow.

“Franny, what are you
doing?”

“Micah, get out of here, you got no right!”

“If Seth found out, he’d skin you alive, and you know it!”

“Well, he’s not gonna find out unless you tell him!”

I stood there looking guiltily at Girlie. “Let’s go,” I hissed, but she only took hold of my hand and pulled me closer.

“Get rid of it, Franny.” Micah was speaking again, and there was something in his tone, a terrible urgency that frightened me.

“I won’t. You can’t make me. He’s my dream man and he belongs to me—”

“He’s just a dumb old scarecrow—”

“He’s not! Don’t you call him that!”

“Franny, please! Something awful might happen if you don’t get rid of it.
Please,
Franny, put it in the trash heap now and I’ll take a match to it. Seth won’t ever have to know.”

“I won’t, you hear me?” A sharp note of hysteria had crept into Franny’s voice, and as I heard a sudden movement through the brush, some instinct made me grab Girlie and haul her back with me into the cover of the trees. A second later Micah crashed through the woods just inches from where we were hidden. His face wore a grim expression of fear.

“You hear me?” Franny shouted again. “Micah? You hear? He’s mine. I’m not giving him up just ’cause Seth says I have to! It’s not good enough!”

I’m not certain how long we stood there, Girlie and I, pressed against each other in the shadows. It started to really rain then, big fat drops that plopped down all around us, thick and cold like globs of melted ice. I prayed Franny would never know we’d eavesdropped—I felt I’d betrayed her enough already. After a long while when she still didn’t appear, I gave Girlie a nudge and we hurried back toward the house, racing across the yard just as the sky opened up and soaked us to the skin. Rachel met us at the door, laughing, and after I babbled something about not being able to find Micah, I saw his golden head bent over the table where he was finishing his breakfast.

“Why, he just now came in. Here, get out of those wet things,” Rachel shook her head in amusement as Girlie took a step and slid in a puddle across the floor.

“I’m fine, really,” I assured her. “I’ll just dry off by the fire.”

“All right, but put a blanket around you.” Rachel steered Girlie down the hall and I heard them whispering as they went upstairs. It was a relief to be in, but as I looked down at Micah, the whole scene in the woods rushed back to me, and I began to shiver.

“Aren’t you cold?” I asked him conversationally.
What’s the matter with you? Don’t you even remember talking to me that day? Did I imagine the whole thing?

He shook his head, though I could see his clothes clinging to him damply, outlining his thin shoulders, his wiry arms…
Sometimes Micah has to stay here
…I turned abruptly to the stove and filled a cup from the ever-ready coffeepot. Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to be by the fire, its light, its warmth…

The parlor was deserted. I pulled a blanket around me and perched on the hearth, cupping my hands around my coffee, squinting through the steam that caressed my face. I closed my eyes, letting out a weary sigh. When I opened them again, Micah was standing there looking down at me.

My heart leaped, but my voice managed to come out sounding calm. “Micah, I didn’t hear you come in.”

He looked so small beside me now, his skin so fair, his eyes that startling blue of midsummer skies. His build was so slight that he seemed only a little boy, and for one split second I actually had to fight back a crazy urge to smooth the damp hair from his forehead. A slight flush crept over his cheeks as I stared at him, so I tactfully redirected my eyes to my cup. The silence stretched between us, yet I had the distinct feeling that he was trying to work up nerve to tell me something. At last I peered up at him again.

“Micah, what is it?”

He threw a wild glance toward the door; his hand clenched at his side as he leaned toward me. “I…Dewey…”

My mind leaped at the name. I, too, leaned forward, my voice a whisper that matched his. “What?”

“Dewey—” he began, but just then Rachel came down the stairs and into the hall, and Micah recoiled from me as if he’d been burned. Trying to conceal my annoyance, I settled back in my place, forcing a smile as Rachel came into the room.

“I think she’s part duck, she loves the water so!” She laughed as she hung Girlie’s clothes neatly over the firescreen and moved it nearer the heat. “I reckon it’s all right. She never seems to get sick.”

Physician heal thyself…
I frowned at the random thought and Rachel slipped an arm around my shoulders.

“Are you getting warm?”

“Yes, thanks. This feels wonderful.”

Micah was staring out the window, not saying a word. Rachel patted his shoulder as she passed him, and he ducked his head.

“Gonna stay in for a while?” she asked him.

“I reckon.” He gave a small nod and she ruffled his hair. I waited for her to go back to the kitchen, but to my frustration she sat down in the rocking chair and picked up a basket of sewing.

“Mercy, this mending’s the biggest bother on God’s green earth, but I reckon it’s gotta be done.” She allowed herself a resigned sigh and began to rock gently back and forth as she threaded a needle. I bit my lip and stared at Micah’s back. He would never talk to me now.

“Well, this one’s past hope,” Rachel announced good-naturedly, dropping a sock to the side. “Guess we’ll put it in the scrap bag. Could be some scarecrow’s Sunday best come spring, right, Micah?”

The boy gave a vague nod and looked down at his boots.

“Mercy, all that fuss we go through…” Rachel smiled, and her fingers flew swiftly, in and out, with the needle. “It’s almost sad when they have to go.”

I felt an impassive mask settle slowly across my face. “I don’t know why you couldn’t just keep them.”

“Keep them, Pamela?” Rachel eyed me in mild surprise.

“Yes, you know. From year to year.”

“Oh, we couldn’t do that. They have their season, like everything else. Why, to keep them alive would be…unnatural. Like a person outliving his time.” Her eyes locked with mine, holding them with a composure I found strangely unsettling. I tried to look away but couldn’t.

“But they’re not people,” I reminded her.

“It’s wrong to go against nature, Pamela.” Her voice, like a silken thread, wove around me gently.

An icy finger worked its way up my spine. I tore my eyes from hers and saw that my blanket had slipped off my shoulders. Micah put his hand slowly to his head but never moved his eyes from the rug.

“I guess…” I said lamely, “I guess I just find them so fascinating.”

“They are fascinating, aren’t they?” She rocked and sewed, the creak of her chair, the popping of coals, the tick of the clock. “And it’s funny how so many of them end up looking just like the people who made them. Reminds you of God a little, doesn’t it—though I expect I’m being blasphemous even to mention such a thing.”

“No, I don’t think so,” I said slowly. “Scarecrows have the same problems we do. They’re at the mercy of the elements. They don’t have any say about how they’re going to look when they’re created.”

“You’re right. My, I never thought of that, did you, Micah?” But still the boy said nothing and Rachel added, “I’ve always liked them being here just to brighten up the place. But Seth, well, he only sees them as things to scare away the birds.”

“It’s all in the way one looks at it, I suppose,” I said uncomfortably.

She nodded, then glanced at the mantel and put down her work. “I’d love to sit here and chat all day, but if I don’t get started on that washing…Mercy, I wish Dewey would get here with that salt! I’m going to feel it, come baking day.”

“Are you sure I can’t help you?”

She shook her head. “I’ll call if I need help. You finish drying off.”

For a second I thought Micah was going to go with her, but instead he crossed to a bench and sat down.

“In France,” he said quietly, “people call them ‘the terrifiers.’”

I stared at him, surprised. “What?”

“Scarecrows.” His voice was a low monotone, and I had to strain to hear. “They call them ‘terrifiers.’”

“How do you know that?”

His shoulders lifted ever so slightly. “Some people believe scarecrows can see everything going on around them.”

That chill again, only colder this time, raising the hair on my arms. “But of course you know those are only superstitions, don’t you?”

“Are they?” He faced me and his eyes were clear and honest and—frightened. “Then why are scarecrows put up to keep evil away and strangers out?”

I gave a wry smile. “I’m sure Seth would say they’re one and the same.”