The Endless Forest (64 page)

“That better?”

She smiled at him sleepily and began to drift in and out, aware of the rise and fall of his voice and the crackle of the fire and little else.

“‘For my own part,’” Daniel continued reading, “‘I was far from pleased with his excessive regard for feminine modesty and fragility. He believed me to be innocent and so I took it upon myself to demonstrate a truth he, for all his sophistication and worldly experience, had failed to comprehend. And that is, if one wishes to attain full enjoyment of love, restraint must be overcome and modesty banished. My woman’s body was made to give and receive pleasure, and we need fear nothing but artifice. There was no sin in our enjoyment of each other, and nothing to regret as long as the fucking brought pleasure for both.’”

Martha bolted upright so that water sloshed onto the hearth and the fire hissed in complaint.

“Daniel Bonner!”

He cocked his head at her, his expression calm, though a twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

“What? Gulliver was putting you to sleep so I thought this might interest you more—”

She made a grab for the book, and he scooted backward out of reach.

“You—you—” She heard herself spluttering. Then she realized she was kneeling upright in the tub, naked, her skin rose pink from the heat. Martha sat down again and more water sloshed.

“I’ll put it away,” Daniel said, “if you don’t want to hear any more.” He was smiling broadly. “In fact, I’ll toss it in the fire.” He turned toward the hearth.

“Daniel!”

One eyebrow arched. “You object?”

“Yes. No. Yes!” Martha reached for the towel on the empty stool beside her, but Daniel was there first.

“Oh, look, it’s wet,” he said with great solemnity. “Let me hang it up to dry. Now what was it you wanted me to do with the French Lady of Leisure?”

Her choices were extreme. She could climb naked out of the tub and stalk, just as she was, into the bedroom to dress; she could sit back down, close her eyes, and listen to Daniel reading.

Martha made an effort to examine the book. Plain dark green binding, gold-edged pages, and a lot of them. A long book.

“Did you want me to keep reading?”

“You are merciless.”

“Let me go on a little more, and maybe then you can decide. Where were we? Oh, yes. ‘I am well spoken, it has often been said, for a woman, and in this instance I could see the power of my words working on his—’”

Martha cleared her throat and Daniel paused, one brow raised.

She said, “I thought this young lady was French? She sounds very English to me.”

“She travels a great deal between England and France in pursuit of adventures.”

“I suppose she’d have to.”

Daniel turned back to the page.

“Where was I? … ‘As I shared these thoughts with him he attained a fierce erection with a head as large as a plum—’”

“Plum?” Martha said. “Plum?”

“The French Lady of Leisure is prone to exaggeration.”

“But a plum is—”

“Large?”

“Purple.”

He inclined his head thoughtfully, and began to read again.

“‘Now I almost regretted my speech, for he wasted no time in placing me in a position to receive his invasion and at once I felt him there at the threshold—’”

“Invasion,” Martha muttered.

“The French Lady of Leisure has a wide and imaginative vocabulary. Isn’t that water getting cold?”

Martha nodded tightly.

“Well, then,” said Daniel. “Let’s get you out of there and go to bed, what do you think?”

“I am very tired.”

“I can see that.”

In one movement he snagged the towel he had put out of reach and offered it to her.

Martha said, “Will you read to me some more?”

“Darlin’,” Daniel said. “I’ll read until you beg me to stop.”

On the second Sunday in May in this year 1824 I examined the remains of a young man of African origin, about seventeen years of age. In life he stood about five foot eleven inches tall. The remains indicate that this was a healthy, active young man.

There were no wounds on the body visible to the eye or closer examination. The bones of the head, limbs, and torso were all intact. The examination of the internal organs confirmed the subject’s health.

Upon opening his chest both his lungs were found to contain water, which indicates that he was alive when he went into the lake and drowned. There is no evidence of foul play.

I, Lorena Webb, hereby swear that the earthly remains showed to me this day were those of Harper Washington, free man of color. Harper was employed by the same family as me, Mr. and Mrs. Focht. He was no blood relation of mine. I have known him about six months. I am told that his ma died a few years back of a lung fever.

I can’t hardly imagine that he’s really gone.

Pardon? Oh, yes, I’m sorry to let my mind wander. I last saw Harper early this day, about an hour after sunrise when he brought my breakfast to me from the kitchen. Harper and me, we wasn’t to eat in the dining room. His appetite was good and he was talking at a gallop, the way he always talked.

He did like to swim, that’s true. Liked the lake too. Said it was all kind of cool on a hot afternoon. I guess maybe he got him a cramp.

No, sir, I can’t imagine any reason Harper might do hisself harm. He was such a lively boy, always interested in everything around him. Uncommon smart too. Mr. Focht saw to it that Harper learned his letters and numbers. Sometimes he would lend Harper the newspaper and then they would talk about what was going on in the world. Mr. Focht put a lot of trust into that boy, and is going to be mighty disappointed to find him passed on.

I suppose I’ll just set tight right here, looking after young Nicholas though truth be tolt I’d just as soon go back home. What choice do I have?

I did know the boy, he come around here pretty much every day to visit. A friendly boy and curious about the world. Never heard anybody ask so many questions. The boy had a loose jaw.

He wanted to know about everything. How we make nails and where we got our charcoal from. Wanted to know everything about everybody. Who was courting and who was increasing, who was getting along and who wan’t. But there didn’t seem to be no harm in him.

No, I never did talk to him this morning, but I saw him setting off. I don’t know where he was going, but it wan’t the lake, at least not to start with. No, sir, Harper set off that way, downriver. How he ended up all the way on the far end of Half Moon, I fear we’ll never know the answer to that question. May God have mercy on his everlasting soul.

Yes, Harper come in to get his breakfast as usual and took it up to Lorena. The boy Nicholas who claims to be a Wilde, he had already had his fill and gone out to run with the Bonner children, and good riddance say I.

No, I don’t like him. I don’t like the way he looks at me. There’s something wrong with him. Like he was blind on one side and can see more than the rest of us on the other.

I’ll tell you once more. I don’t know a thing about what Harper got up to when he left here. If you say he went swimming, well, then most likely he did. Ain’t no concern of mine one way or the other, though I am sorry to hear he’s dead at such a young age.

Did you ask Levi Fiddler? I saw them talking more than once. Maybe he can tell you more.

My name is Levi Fiddler, and I work for Miss Callie. Yes, sir, I mean Mrs. Middleton. Been working in the Wilde’s orchard ever since I got my manumission papers. I do all the heavy work at the orchard, and the pressing, come fall.

Yes, sir, I knew Harper to talk to. He come by to call almost every day, and he took up whatever work there was to hand. I got the feeling he was lonely ever since the other servants went off with the Fochts.

That’s all I know to tell you. Can I get back to work now?

I knew young Harper Washington through my half brother Nicholas. Harper was supposed to be looking after my brother.

I can’t deny he was a helpful and friendly young man, but he was far too green and flighty to be looking after a young boy like Nicholas. Now I ask you, Jim Bookman, what if my brother had gone down to the lake with Harper? I hate to think of it. And that Lorena was just as bad. I have been saying it all along that Nicholas should be with us, and he will be by the end of the day, that I promise you.

T
he day after Harper Washington was fished out of the lake was Sunday, and on Sundays everybody came home to Uphill House for dinner at midday. There were so many of them that they couldn’t fit around the dining room table, so the men set up trestle tables and benches in the open space between the house and the gardens, and the women spent all morning cooking. It was Birdie’s job to see to it that the little people all kept busy and out of the way, which was a lot better than scraping potatoes or cutting up onions.

Ever since she got out of bed Birdie had been wondering how she could get to Daniel and Martha before anybody else. She wanted to be the one to tell them about Harper Washington, because she was the only one who would tell them the whole story and not leave anything out. But the little people were everywhere and impossible to shake off, and so she had just about given up the idea when the Hidden Wolf folks showed up early to help.

Susanna and Annie had baked pies and Birdie’s ma came out to admire
them. There was a lot of talk about dried currants and strawberry preserves, and then Birdie couldn’t hold back her question any longer.

“What about Daniel and Martha?” she asked. “Why didn’t they come down the mountain with you?”

Gabriel said, “You’ll understand when you’re newly wed yourself.”

The kind of answer that made Birdie hopping mad. She said, “You and Annie are newlyweds. And so are Callie and Ethan, but all of you are here.”

“Don’t begrudge them a few hours sleep,” Ma said. “They’ve had a very strenuous week.”

“That’s right,” Gabriel said, grinning. “They need their sleep.”

Then Annie had stepped on his foot, hard enough to make Gabriel squawk.

Blue-Jay said, “Let me at that other foot,” and with that the wrestling started.

It was the best chance she’d have. Birdie slipped away and headed down to the village at a trot.

It was a beautiful day, warm but not warm enough to raise a sweat unless you were working in the sun. She found a spot out of sight in the shadows next to the schoolhouse, because it wouldn’t do if some neighbor saw her. There would be questions about what she was doing sitting there on a Sunday, and didn’t she need to get home for dinner? She was better off where she was if she could just stay awake. That would be hard in such fine weather, because she hadn’t got enough sleep in the night.

Because of the dead boy in the lake
, the little people had whispered among themselves.
Because she saw that dead boy
.

They were right, and they were wrong too. Birdie had seen more than a few dead people. Her aunt Many-Doves, for one. People as old as her grandfather Hawkeye, and as young as the little boy Friend Verena Henry had brought dead into the world. There was nothing to fear from dead people, but there was something about Harper that didn’t sit right.

She had begun to drift off despite her best intentions when she heard Daniel’s voice. He was laughing. He laughed a lot these last few weeks, and because he was laughing and happy, it seemed other people were happier. Birdie realized she herself was smiling to hear him.