The Devil in Canaan Parish (28 page)

Sally seemed to notice it, and muttered,

“Got to get you up out of here, now.
 
My parents are coming and I can’t have you in here like this.
 
Got to get you upstairs.”

She put her arms around me and started to drag me out of the bed.
 
The pain was excruciating now.
 
I gasped with each step.
 
Sally’s jaw was clenched and she held me in an iron grip as she half pulled, half dragged me out of the bedroom,
 
across the kitchen, up the stairs, through the attic, and finally into the small bedroom where I had stayed when I first came to live at the Palmers.

By the time we reached it, I was crying in pain.
 
Sally threw me on the bed, and pulled me backward.
 
She had laced sheets through the head of the bed, and she placed my hands in them, threading them around my wrists like handcuffs.
 
I saw by the expression on her face that she no longer had any concern for my welfare.
 
Her only concern was for the baby inside me.

After she had tied me down, she placed a gag into my mouth and then stroked my cheek.

“Shh, shh,” she whispered, “try not to cry out so, ok honey?
 
My parents are coming in a minute to get me for church.
 
I need to go downstairs and clean up a little and tell them that I’m not feeling well – that I’ve got a headache and they need to go without me.
 
Now, you just try to be quiet, and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

She kissed me on the cheek.
 
Then she took one last peek around the room, closed and locked the door.

I bit down on the wadded cloth in my mouth and allowed myself to scream, grateful for the way the sound was muffled.
 
I thought about Marraine
,
the many times that I had been with her when she went to aid the women in labor.
 
There had been pain, of course, but Marraine had soothed them,
 
bringing them tonics and teas to ease the pain, rubbing their backs, massaging them, singing to them.
 
They called her an angel, and she was.
 
I wanted so much to see her again, to feel her cool hand on my head and know that everything would be ok.

An hour or so later, Sally returned, a bowl of hot water in her arms.
 
She was humming a strange tune.
 
She barely looked at me.

“Are you ready to come out, my love?” she crooned to the unborn baby.
 
“Momma’s ready for you.”

She kneeled at the foot of the bed and pulled out her rosary.
 
Slowly and methodically, she began reciting the
Our Father.

Our Father, who art in heaven,

“M-Miss S-Sally!” I gasped, “help me!”

Hallowed be thy name

“Please, Miss Sally,
 
please,
 
I don’t know what to do!”

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,

“Miss Sally, I beg you,
 
please get someone to help me!”

Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,

I lost consciousness then.
 
I became aware only of the pain.
 
I felt myself screaming, though I made no sound.
 
Somewhere in the distance, I could still hear Sally’s voice.

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, now and forever, Amen.

Finally the pain subsided.
 
I don’t know how much time passed. I felt as though I were floating above the bed, and when I looked down, I saw myself there, leaning lifeless against the pillows,
 
my legs askew and Sally kneeling at the foot of the bed,
 
her rosary pressed against her lips which were moving rapidly in silent prayer.
 
I gradually came back to myself, and when I opened my eyes, Sally was rising to her feet, her rosary beads clutched in her hands, her eyes wide with wonder. I glanced down at my legs and saw pools of blood and there in between, a tiny shriveled baby.
 
The baby was not moving.
 
It was not making the cries that it should be making.
 
It was too tiny to be born, I knew.
 
It was not its time.

“It’s a girl!” Sally squealed, picking up the tiny thing and wrapping it in a towel.
 
She wiped the blood from its head and kissed it, then she began dancing from foot to foot, singing a song low and softly.

“Thank you, Melee,” she said, her voice quiet and firm.
 
“You can go now.”

She turned her back to me and stared out the window.
 
I had been ready for this.
 
I’d known for a while that as soon as the baby was born, Sally would no longer need me and I’d be free to go. I pulled myself together, weak and shivering.
 
I tried to stand up, but swayed unsteadily on my feet.
 
Where would I go now?
 
There was still no answer for me.
 
There still did not seem to be a place of safety and comfort waiting for me anywhere.

“Melee!” I heard a voice shouting from below. “Melee!”
 
It was Gabriel.
 
My angel.

“Gabriel!” I called back.
 
“I’m up here!”

I heard feet running through the kitchen, and then bounding up the kitchen stairs.
 
In another moment he arrived at the door, his eyes bright.
 
The smile faded from his lips and I watched as he took in the scene, his eyes flitting from me, to the bed, to Sally and back to me.
 
I held my arms out to him, and he bounded over to my side, pulling me close to him.

“Melee, you alright honey?
 
What happened?
 
What happened?”

“Please,” I choked, “please,
 
get me out of here.”

Gabriel didn’t answer.
 
He picked me up in his strong arms and strode out of the room. He brought me downstairs and into the bathroom.

“Can you walk a little?” he asked, “Can I leave you here for a minute?
 
I’m going to get your things together.”

I nodded.
 
I could feel the strength returning to me, now that the pain was gone. I washed off the blood as best as I could, and wrapped myself in a dry towel.
 
Gabriel returned in a moment, bringing me clothes to put on.
 
He already had my little carpet bagged packed up for me.
 
I stumbled out of the bathroom, and he grabbed my hand.

“Melee,
 
I have to leave.
 
Now.”
 
I saw fear and anger in his eyes.
 
“Honey, you don’t have to go with me, but if you want to, you sure can.”

I didn’t answer.
 
I just put my arms around his neck, pulling his lips to mine.
 
We kissed for a long moment,
 
and then he picked me up and carried me outside.
 
He put me on the handlebars of his bike,
 
placing my little bag in my lap and climbing on.
 
The next minute we were pedaling on our way out of town.

The rain was pounding down.
 
Soaking me through.
 
I could barely see in front of us.
 
Gabriel put his chin on my shoulder.
 
I heard him gasping with the effort of pushing his bike through the mud and pools of rainwater. We rode that way for a long time, not speaking, nothing but the sound of the rain and Gabe’s ragged breath in my ear. I was grateful that the entire town would be at church tonight.
 
I was grateful for the rain and the darkness to cover us as we made our escape.

We reached the bridge over Bayou Teche and Gabriel started the steep climb.
 
We slowed down more and more and I could tell that Gabe was really struggling now to push the both of us up.
 

“Gabe,” I said, “Let me walk!”

“No, Melee, it’s ok,
 
I can get us up there!”

“Gabe,” I argued,
 
“please, I can walk now.
 
I’m ok.
 
Really I am.”
 
He stopped the bike and I climbed down.
 
He gave me a grateful smile and the two of us began walking slowly up and over the bridge.

I didn’t hear the car coming.
 
I guess the sound of the rain drowned it out.
 
All I know is that we were almost to the middle of the bridge when suddenly we were both blinded by headlights.
 
Gabriel stopped and turned around, his face angry and defiant.
 
The car stopped, its headlights still shining on us and then someone stepped out of the driver’s side.
 

I instantly recognized the silhouette.
 
Though I could not see his face, I saw the dark shape of his body and knew it from a thousand nightmares both waking and asleep.
 
It was the Vieux Diable.
This time, though, he spoke.

“Evening, Gabriel.
 
Well, now,
 
where do you think you’re going?”

“That – that ain’t your business, Sheriff!” Gabriel shouted. He put out his arm and pushed me behind him.
 

“Well now, Gabe, I’m afraid you made it my business earlier this evening, didn’t you?” The Sheriff was slowly walking around the car door and heading toward us,
 
his hand perched on his gun holster.

“And what have we here?” he continued, “a little companion to join you? How sweet.”

“She ain’t got nothin’ to do with this!” said Gabriel.

“I say she has!” hissed the Sheriff, “I just come from Sally Palmer’s place and I seen what’s been left there.
 
I say she has a lot of explaining to do.”

Gabriel threw a panicked look in my direction.
 
“Run, Melee!” he urged me,
 
“RUN!”

I didn’t wait for him to say it again, I turned,
 
grabbing my carpet bag and took off over the bridge.
 
I thought that Gabriel was right behind me with the bicycle.

“GET BACK HERE!” I heard the Sheriff scream, and then I heard the slam of a car door, the roar of an engine and the screech of tires peeling out on wet road. When I turned back to see if Gabriel were behind me, I saw the Sheriff’s cruiser slamming into the bicycle, Gabriel’s body was flung forward to the ground.

“NO!” I screamed, dropping my bag and running back to Gabriel. Blood was pouring from his head where it had smacked the pavement. He did not move though I called and called him, my head buried in his chest. I felt something pushing me aside. I looked up and saw the Sheriff bending over us. His face was hard and fierce. He picked Gabriel up off the ground and flung him over his shoulder. For an instant I thought the Sheriff was going to help us, but then I watched as he walked carefully over to the side of the bridge and, without pausing, threw Gabriel’s body over the ledge and into the Bayou Teche.

I felt a wave of despair and grief rip through me. I was sobbing and screaming as I ran over to the ledge to see if I could see Gabriel’s body, but when I looked over there was nothing but the violent rush of black water below.

“Hush up now,” said the Sheriff. “Don’t keep carrying on like that,
 
you’re giving me a headache! Hush up, I said!” he shouted, walking toward me.
 
But I couldn’t stop screaming.
 
I had stayed quiet for so long that to stop the flood of sadness that was coming out of me would be like trying to stop the raging waters of the Bayou Teche.

“Shut up!” he yelled.
 
“Shut up!
 
Listen, I’ll take you home, you hear me?
 
I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, just stop that screaming, would you?”

He took another few steps toward me, reaching out his hand to grab my arm.
 
At that instant I felt myself compelled forward by rage and fear.
 
There was only one place I wanted to be now, and that was with Gabriel.
 
I climbed up onto the ledge, and before the Sheriff could stop me, I jumped off into the water below.

I don’t know how long I stayed under water. I felt myself hurtling forward, spinning and tumbling in the raging current. I saw nothing and heard nothing but the sound of the water churning and rushing through my ears. Time passed, minutes, hours, days.
 
An eternity passed. I felt the water slowing down.
 
I was drifting now, cradled and rocked gently.
 
I was floating on my back.
 
The water was soothing and warm.
 
I felt safe and protected.
 
I felt as though I could open my eyes, and when I did, I saw a glow ahead of me, coming from the side of the river bank, and heard voices, kind voices singing to me.

The current slowed down even more, and I felt myself moving closer and closer to the light.
 
I realized it was the glow of candles. I began to see them as separate orbs of lights and I counted them:
 
one, two, three, four, five. I drew closer and closer to the candlelight, and the darkness began to drain away from around me. I began to make out the words of the song being sung to me from the riverbank:

In the sweet, by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore . . .

The next moment I had the sensation of strong arms lifting me up from the water. I opened my eyes and saw Gabriel’s smiling face close to mine. He pulled me out of the water and set me on my feet on the river bank.
 
He left me there, and turned to an old woman who was holding a little baby in her arms.
 
She handed the baby to him, and he took the baby in one hand and a candle in the other.
 
The little baby girl was holding a candle too.
 
She smiled up at me, giggling, shaking her curly black hair. Her skin was the color of caramel, and her eyes were gray-green like mine.