Scarecrow (26 page)

A cold draft blew across the floor…stirred the covers around me…a dank, graveyard smell…

I saw a movement—an outline—framed by the blackness of the hall, as something shambled awkwardly in between the door and the wall—misshapen, hunched…I knew it watched me…my breathing stopped as I waited to meet its empty, lifeless eyes…

Blackness rose around me in a fetid dream.

I saw the door tremble…swing noiselessly back into place.

Snow hissed against the windowpane, slithering…sliding.

I couldn’t move.

As breath seeped slowly back into my lungs, as my heart picked up an erratic rhythm and began to send blood back into my limbs, I sat like a statue, not feeling, not thinking…

My body began to live again, but my mind closed in upon itself, cowering behind wide-open eyes, staring out numbly through a haze of sour whiskey and total terror.

The room lightened, shadows waning to silver gray.

And still I sat.

The morning dawned, and I was cold. My hands began to shake.

Sick and frightened, I felt sleep descending at last….

And though I fought it, it dragged me down, deeper and deeper into darkness.

If I had only known what was coming, I would have welcomed that darkness.

For the reality ahead of me would be the worst nightmare of my life.

I
HAD NEVER FELT
so sick.

Balancing precariously on the edge of the bed, I willed the room to stop its incessant spinning and crushed my pounding head between my fists.

For several moments I couldn’t remember anything—why I felt so miserable…so terribly apprehensive…so empty and alone…. If I could only get downstairs with Rachel and Seth…

Seth.

Groping my way to the door, I strained to hear his voice, his footsteps downstairs, but whatever might have been there was drowned out by the dizzying roar between my ears.
Bad whiskey…bad dreams…you should know better.
Without bothering to dress, I pulled my shawl around me and reached for the doorknob.

Immediately last night’s panic came back to me. As my fingers closed around the cold metal knob, I recoiled as if the thing had burned into my flesh.
That noise! That thing.
For an instant my breath stopped, then with a sheer effort of will, I jerked open the door and stumbled across the threshold.

No stains. No footprints. No telltale water or mud upon the floorboards…no blood or slime, no worms smeared on the door…

With a wry smile I clutched my head and shut my eyes against the light and felt my way to the landing and down the stairs.

It was hard to tell how late or early it was. The house was translucent in that strange pearl gray light that had lingered throughout the night, only now it was cleaner somehow, stripped of its blacker shadows. I found Rachel in the kitchen, her own shawl clutched around her, staring out the window with her back to me. As I paused in the doorway some sense must have alerted her. She spun quickly, a look of hope brightening, then leaving her face in an instant.

“Oh.” It came out with forced pleasantry, though I felt the disappointment behind it. Her knuckles were white where they clung to her shawl. Her eyes looked haunted, strangely glazed with sleeplessness.

“He’s not back,” I said softly.

She shook her head, squaring her shoulders. “He will be,” she said firmly. “It wasn’t such a big snow, after all.”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at the floor and heard Rachel pull out a chair.

“Mercy, you look like death warmed over.”

I nodded as best I could. “And I feel even worse.”

“Oh, I should have guessed. That stuff Seth makes can really do you in, if you’re not used to it.”

“What’s in it, for heaven’s sake? Poison?”

In spite of herself Rachel looked amused. “Close. But I promise it’s not fatal. Here, sit down. This’ll make you feel better.”

“Oh no, please. I can’t handle anything right now—”

“This’ll be good for you.”

“Even if it’s good for me,” I finished.

“You’ll see,” Rachel said wisely, and I leaned over onto the table as she began rummaging through some tins and burlap bags, shaking small amounts out into a bowl. The smell was peculiar, but not unpleasant, and as I watched with interest, she added a syrupy liquid from a jar and began to stir it all with a spoon. Then she poured it into a cup and set it before me, standing back to survey it with a satisfied nod.

“Yes, I reckon that’ll do. Now drink it down—”

“I can’t, I’ll really be sick.”

“It’s never failed before; I don’t figure it will now.”

Somehow I managed to choke the stuff down, then lay my head miserably upon the table.

“Seth’s the only one who can handle that moonshine of his.” Rachel rinsed my cup, setting it to dry. “It’s really too strong. I’m used to it, but I still have to water it down. It can work a powerful spell.” She smiled understandingly. “Make your head spin something awful—give you terrible dreams—”

“Dreams,” I mumbled. “Dreams…of course…” I was glad then that I hadn’t told her about last night, how the hallway had crawled with demons that couldn’t have been real.

“I remember one time,” Rachel said with a soft laugh, “I had the scariest dream…so real…. Woke up screaming and carrying on, like to scared everybody to death…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes going wistfully to the window. “And Seth…why, he just told me what it was—that whiskey I’d had after supper—nothing to worry about, he said…nothing’s gonna hurt you while I’m here, he said…nothing’s ever gonna hurt you…ever again…”

She loves him, I thought with a heart-wrenching stab, as I watched her eyes fixed on that window and the empty yard beyond.
She really does love him…

“But anyhow,” Rachel said brightly, catching herself, pulling her gaze firmly back to my face, “it can surely work on the mind. So how do you feel now?”

“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully.

“Give it five minutes.” She nodded. “Five minutes you’ll be able to tell.”

I nodded doubtfully, wondering how I was ever going to be able to face the grits she was stirring into a pan. She gave me a knowing smile and jerked her chin toward the back door.

“Fresh air’ll make you feel better,” she assured me. “And the snow’s mighty pretty.”

I went out on the back steps, where my breath was stung cleanly away by the most beautiful picture I’d ever seen—everything covered with a mantle of pure white—the yard, rooftops, fields, fences—and the trees, laced together in intricate patterns, shivering in the wind, sifting soft flurries onto the shifting ground. I stood there in silence, the solitude enclosing me from the world. Maybe, I found myself thinking, just maybe it wasn’t so wrong to want to keep the world away, to be your own world within yourself…and yet…

Something cold smacked into my shoulder, and I saw Girlie at the side of the house, another snowball already aimed in her hand. Her solemn eyes gauged my reaction, and I surprised myself by laughing out loud. My head was beginning to feel delightfully clear.

“Let me get dressed!” I called to her. “And then we’ll play.”

One corner of her mouth tilted up, giving her a comically quizzical look, and I scooped up a handful of snow, letting it fly as she ducked behind the wall. Rachel smiled as I came in, and I almost felt guilty. For a few moments I’d forgotten about Seth.

“He knows this land like the back of his hand,” Rachel said, as if reading my thoughts. “And like I said, he’s been gone before…only if he’s hurt or something—well, we won’t worry about that yet.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” I gave her a quick hug. “And you were right, my head feels wonderful. What was in that stuff anyway?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, I know lots of things passed down from my mama and Seth’s mama and their mamas before them. But it’s secret.”

“I can tell you one thing. If you bottled that and sold it, you’d be a very rich woman.”

“Yes?” Rachel looked so surprised that I laughed.

“Absolutely. By the way, where’s Franny this morning?”

“I thought I heard her go out earlier,” Rachel said, turning back to the stove. The grits were beginning to bubble, filling the kitchen with a bland, grainy fragrance. “She and Girlie are probably off playing somewhere.”

“No, I just saw Girlie, and Franny wasn’t with her. Maybe she got worried and went to look for Seth.”

Rachel’s eyes went automatically to the window, her face troubled. “I hope not. It’s such a long way, and with this weather and all. No, more than likely she’s gone off on her own in the snow. Mercy, I never did see a girl love winter the way she does—why, she and Micah spend
hours
—” She checked herself, her back going straight, hands clenching into quick, defensive knots. “I mean…they
used
to spend hours…playing…” Her voice dwindled, and I left the room quietly, feeling tears come to my own eyes.

I hurried upstairs, keenly aware of the difference in temperature from the toasty kitchen, but as I passed Franny’s room, I slowed down and looked curiously at her door. It was standing open several inches, not wide as was her usual custom when leaving it in the morning. Hesitating, I tried to peer between the edge of the door and the wall but could only see dim light beyond.

“Franny?”

Feeling like an intruder, I pushed cautiously on the door. It creaked open several more inches and stuck. I could see the warped floorboard that was holding it, and as I stuck my head into the room I gave a tentative knock. “Franny?”

But obviously there was nobody here. Franny must have left the house earlier like Rachel said. Her bed was unmade, which wasn’t like Franny at all.

I gave the door a jolt and nearly fell as it gave beneath my weight. Franny’s bed was not only unmade, it was a real mess. Covers drooped down upon the floor, the blankets all untucked and heaped about as if they’d been thrown. Her pillow lay across the room in a corner. Her shawl still draped the foot of the bed, her shoes stuffed carelessly beneath a chair…

Her shoes…

Frowning, I took a few more steps into the room. I’d never known Franny to wear any other shoes but these, and now here they were, still caked with mud from our walk to the barn last night. I remembered how Rachel had scolded her for tracking in puddles, and how Franny had deliberately clumped on up the stairs, leaving a trail behind her. I stared at her bed, my bewilderment growing. It wasn’t like Franny to leave her room in such disarray…unless something had happened…unless something had called her urgently from the house that morning—something more important than straightening her room and putting on her shoes and upsetting the routine…
Seth?

The floor creaked behind me and I whirled, gasping in relief as I saw Girlie standing there.

“You scared me,” I scolded her, laughing. “I thought you were outside.”

Her mouth trembled up in a tentative smile. “Are we playing?”

“Yes, just as soon as I get dressed.” I swatted her playfully on her bottom, then stopped in surprise, staring at her feet. She was wearing a pair of shoes I hadn’t seen her in before, lace-up things like hunting shoes, suited to the snow and the cold.
Of course, Franny probably changed into snowshoes or winter boots; she was just eager to get out into the snow.
Shaking my head at my stupidity, I pulled Franny’s door shut behind us. Maybe if Rachel didn’t see the mess, it would save Franny a scolding.

Playing outside helped keep my mind off Seth, at least for a while. Girlie and I constructed a fort near the barn and had a battle with invisible dragons which we won; then we built a snowman, his wife, and several children of varying ages, personalizing them with broken twigs, rocks, leaves, and feathers from the chicken house. I could see Rachel watching us from the back door; after much coaxing I managed to get her interested in our game, noting with satisfaction that the worry lines began to fade from her face, which relaxed into laughter as she began to share our genuine feeling of fun. I wished that Franny would show up to join in our exploits, but I purposely kept my thoughts to myself, not wanting to upset Rachel needlessly. Instead we had snowball fights and games of tag, and they showed me how to make snow angels by falling back in the snow and moving my arms up and down to form wings. I’m not sure how long we were outside, but the morning passed quickly, and before I knew it, Rachel was looking anxiously toward the woods again, her instincts telling her it was dinnertime, and still no Seth.

I was beginning to grow uneasy about Franny now, too. I hadn’t known her to be gone so long, and it was even stranger to me that she would miss a meal. When I questioned Rachel about it, she gave me a look that told me she’d been having the same thoughts.

“There’s only one thing I can think of,” she said, standing Girlie near the stove to warm her up. “I reckon you might be right. She must have gone to look for Seth.” She told Girlie to wash up and shrugged out of her damp shawl, hanging it on the back of the kitchen door. “But why?” She faced me, puzzlement and exasperation battling over her features. “It’s not like Franny to care that much about Seth—”

“I think you’re wrong,” I said quietly. “I think she cares a great deal for Seth. More than she knows. Didn’t you see her last night, waiting for him to come home? She was terribly worried about him. Even her scarecrow—”

Rachel’s brows raised. “Her scarecrow?”

“Yes. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how much it resembled Seth?”

“Well, I know she used Seth’s clothes, but…” Rachel’s face was totally confused.

“Even the face, crude as it was,” I said, smiling fondly. “I think Seth’s the hero that Franny’s always dreamed about, only she just doesn’t know it. She doesn’t realize how much she really loves him.”

“Oh, mercy.” Rachel put a hand to her cheek, shook her head slowly. “Then I guess we better not tell her, or she might be worse than ever.”

In spite of ourselves we laughed. It helped to break the tension for a moment, but as the minutes ticked away, a kind of gloom began to settle over us once again. Rachel dished up some bean soup, which we hardly touched, and after we washed up the dishes I wandered into the parlor to look for Girlie. When I couldn’t find her there, I went upstairs and stopped at Franny’s door. After several moments I pushed it open, once more scanning the room, the disorder, the shoes, with growing consternation. Suppose Franny really
had
gone after Seth. Surely she knew her way though these wooded hills as well as he did. And if by chance he
had
met with some mishap, it was unlikely that something would happen to her, as well. Still…there was something about this room that bothered me and I didn’t know what.