The Sudden Star (35 page)

Simon was trembling. Ildico rested her forehead on Aisha's shoulder. Her long blond hair fell forward, covering the small dark figure with gold. He gasped and stumbled toward the window, struggling for breath. Something fled from him, a gossamer wisp, rising lightly on the spring air, flowing out over the meadow. It vanished. There was a cold, numb spot within him, blackened and dead.

Ildico sighed. He looked back. She pressed the lifeless body to her and moaned softly.

Simon sat on the hill, next to Aisha's grave. Below him, the grass rippled, a green sea. Ripening wheat swayed in one field, promising food for the winter. In the corn field, the small figure of Larry Cott and the slightly larger form of Gunnar Allman toiled among the tall stalks. Closer to the house, Ildico was digging among the vegetables.

A summer breeze bathed his face. He leaned against the oak tree, feeling the ragged edges of bark through his shirt. A butterfly darted past him, circling over Aisha's grave before alighting on one of the wild violets that grew on the mound covering René. Its black and gold wings fluttered as it lifted again, flying from him.

Simon rubbed his chin, feeling the bristles of a beard. He struggled to his feet and stood unsteadily, clinging to the tree. There was a twinge in his shoulder; he shook his arm. He cupped his hand over his eyes and peered down the road. A wagon, pulled by two white horses, was rolling slowly by the apple orchard; a small woman dressed in red slouched in the wagon, holding the reins. Burris, on the bare back of a gray mare, rode ahead of them.

Simon hobbled down the hill. As he came nearer to the house, the brightness of the summer day grew dimmer, as if a veil was enveloping him. He walked toward the garden, toward Ildico. The veil settled around him; his eyes filmed, making Ildico's overalls a blue blur, her hair a golden smear. Her head turned toward him as she rose. She stood in the garden, strong and alive, apart from him.

"How long?" he asked. His ears hummed, hearing the words of a ghost. "How long was I gone this time?"

"A week," she said. The veil fluttered as she spoke and faded. She pointed at his shoulder. "You're hurt."

He looked at it. His shirt was torn, blood had clotted along a groove in his arm. "That has to be cleaned," she went on. She came to him and took his arm. "I'll take you inside."

"Someone's coming here," he said, motioning toward the road. She peered at the approaching wagon. Burris rode up to them, sliding quickly off the mare.

"You have visitors," he said. He jabbed a thumb at Simon. "Better get him inside. You might scare them off."

She shook her head. "He's all right now, he can sit on the porch. Who is it?"

"Enid Van Wyck. She's got two kids with her."

Ildico led Simon around to the front of the house. He climbed the wide steps and sat next to a pillar, propping himself against it. Ildico stood two steps below him, watching the wagon approach. It rolled to a stop. The small woman dropped the reins and leaped out, brushing the dust off her red shirt. Her silvered brown hair was in a knot at her neck; her handsome face was marred by lines around her eyes and mouth. She stood in front of Ildico, her brows knitted together, her mouth tight.

"Hello, Enid," Ildico said.

The woman looked uneasily at Simon for a moment, then turned away. "I'm sorry we didn't get here for René's funeral," she said quickly. "We were so busy then, and Randolph—well, we were very sorry to hear about it."

"It doesn't matter," Ildico replied. "Do you want to come in?"

Enid shook her head; a loose strand of hair fell over her face. "I have something to ask you, Ildy, I know it may seem kind of strange, but I came here because I know you keep your word. If you say you'll do something, you'll do it."

"What do you want me to do?"

Enid waved an arm at the wagon. A little boy sat in the back, his arm around an even smaller child. "I don't know how to say this. Those two kids, they're my sister's. She died right after the little girl was born, that was last summer. I think I might have said something to you about it. Well, their father died this spring, and after that their older brother sent them to us, just for a visit, you understand. And when I wrote him and said it was time to take them back, he said he didn't want them." Her voice shook. "He said he had enough to worry about, what with trying to find a husband for his other sister, but that wasn't the reason." She drew her brows together. "Right after his father died, he moved a girl into that house, some hired man's daughter, and with his wife Nancie pregnant and all. I'm ashamed he's my nephew."

Ildico went over to Enid. "Tell me what you want."

"I don't know how to say it. Could you take care of the kids? I don't know who else to ask." Enid clasped her hands together. "My sister Jane wanted them. She's a scholar, but her university said no, they have to worry about their own kids, and all the students. I didn't know what to do, and I thought of you, I guess it's because—" Enid's head drooped. "Part of it's that you run this county, I knew they'd be safe here, and you have different people here, I hoped you could make some room for two more. Everybody else thinks of their families first."

Ildico put her hands on Enid's shoulders. "And Randolph told you that you have to think of your own kids first, didn't he?" Enid nodded. "Let me see them."

Enid went to the wagon and lifted the baby out. The boy climbed over the side and followed them. "This is James," Enid said, gesturing at the boy, "James Boleyn. He's seven, he's a good boy, kind of quiet, but he'll work hard, he never gave us any trouble. And this is Paulette." She set the baby, clothed in a ragged blue top and gray pants, on the ground at Ildico's feet. "I know she's little now, too little to work, but she's strong and healthy. She never gets sick, not even colic."

Simon glanced toward the little girl. She gurgled and blinked, pulling at her black hair with a chubby, olive-skinned hand. "Did Randolph tell you to bring them here?" Ildico asked.

Enid shook her head. "He wanted to turn them out, make migrants out of them. I told him I'd try to find a home for them. I didn't tell him I was coming here. He doesn't like what you did with your tenant farmers, giving them land. Ours have been making trouble ever since they heard."

Ildico said, "I’ll take them."

Enid sighed loudly and took her hand. "Oh, thank you, Ildy, I don't know what to say. I wish I could make it up to you."

Ildico smiled. "You will. Come back when Randolph dies." The brown-haired woman seemed puzzled. "A lot of people'll think these kids have a claim on some of your land, and I might need some friends in your county. So don't forget, or I might have to go there, and a lot of people who don't like Randolph'll help me."

Enid's face sagged. She stepped back. "I see," she said softly.

Ildico squatted next to Paulette and peered up at Enid. "Don't worry, I'll be fair. I’ll leave your kids enough to farm, if they don't fight me."

Enid spun around on her heel and strode to the wagon. "Shouldn't you stay here for the night?" Ildico called after her. "You have a long way to go."

Enid climbed into the wagon. “I’ll stay in town," she shouted back. "I'll go home, and I'll tell people what you said."

"Better not," Ildico said in a loud, harsh voice. "Your tenants might think it's such a good idea that they won't wait, and then Randolph'll be really mad at you."

Enid picked up the reins and lashed at the horses. They turned and trotted back down the road. Ildico picked up the baby and stood.

James wandered over to Simon. He stood in front of him, looking up at his face. Ildico trailed after him. The boy said, "I seen you before." Ildico stiffened, still holding Paulette. "I seen you," the boy repeated.

"Where?" Ildico asked softly.

"I don't know."

Burris hurried to Ildico's side and she handed the baby to him. "Take the kids inside," she said. "Tell Big Gus to feed them something. The little girl probably needs milk."

James continued to look at Simon until Burris took his hand and led him inside. Ildico came over and sat down. "You know that boy," she said. "I saw it on your face. What happened?"

"I didn't know it was him, I wasn't sure until I heard the name. Aisha and I, we stopped at that farm the summer before last, when I was trying to go south. They took us for migrants."

She said, "The little girl looks like you." His head jerked up. "She has your eyes." She peered at him closely.

"A lot of people have eyes like mine."

"She has your coloring, too. You screwed the mother, didn't you?" He was silent. "You don't have to answer that. I can tell. You'd do it if you could get away with it. You tried that stuff on me."

"It didn't work on you."

"It wouldn't have even if I liked you," she said. "I can't stand having a man touch me that way, not after the way I lived in New York, take my word."

"That's too bad," he muttered. "It's too bad for you. You should have children, they'd inherit your strength, your abilities. Someday the whole world'll be made up of people like you. The rest of us are finished."

"If I ever want kids, I’ll go over to the university. They have a way there to do it."

"It's called artificial insemination," he said wearily.

"She's your daughter, isn't she? Paulette. She's yours."

"I don't know. You can't prove it one way or the other." He turned the idea over in his mind, wanting to believe it, wanting to accept it, but knowing he could never be sure.

"I know she is. I know it."

Simon said, "I have Mura's Syndrome."

Ildico said, "I know." She stood up, hiding her hands in her overall pockets. "I saw it, I saw it a long time ago, just like I saw it in Aisha. That's why I let you stay. I knew it wouldn't be long. It means Paulette's like me. I saw that, too. It's what Norita said. Kids of people like you are stronger."

His ears hummed. Ildico glowed; her blue eyes seemed to pierce him. Then she grew blurry. The gray veil covered his eyes. She put out her hand; the touch of her fingers burned him. He jumped to his feet and retreated from her, running across the dirt road, through the underbrush, and up the hill.

He threw himself down between the two graves, pressing his face to the ground. His shell had been stripped away; claws reached for him, tearing, scratching. He rolled over on his back, looking through oak limbs and leaves at the clear blue sky, and knew he was lying on his own grave.

Ildico was telling a story:

"Once, a long time ago, a bright star came out in the sky. It was brighter than the moon, so bright that you could see it in the daytime. And all the people on Earth said it was a sign, forgetting that the heavens are vast and the stars unknowing of Earth.

"And the earth shook, and gave birth to a spirit. And the spirit appeared before all the people with two gifts from her mother the earth. In one hand, she held a tree, a beautiful tree with shiny green leaves and golden peaches. In the other hand, she held a thorny bush, with sharp thorns like knives and branches like snakes. And she showed them to all the people of Earth, and asked them which one they wanted.

"The people cried out and said the star had sent them a spirit. They looked at the tree, and they looked at the bush, and they said the tree was pretty, but they wanted the bush because they could make tools from the thorns and use the tools to build things, and that would be more useful. And they bowed before the star and thanked it for the present.

"The spirit was very sad when she heard that. She said that the earth was her mother, not the star, but the people were bewitched by the bright star and didn't hear her. She planted the bush, and then she took pity on the people, and planted the tree next to the bush.

"The bush grew very large. Its roots went under the ground and its thorns grew bigger and bigger. It waved its branches and the wind blew, and the thorns flew out and stabbed deep inside the people, and the people forgot about making tools and stabbed one another with the thorns. And the bush wrapped itself around the tree and choked it, and finally the tree died, and its leaves turned black and its fruit rotted. And the bright star began to grow smaller, and the people cried out to it, saying it had given them the bush and must take it back. And the spirit wept.

"But without the tree, the bush got weaker. It had to bury itself deep under the earth to stay alive. The tree was dead, but there were seeds left from it all over the ground. The spirit took the seeds and planted them all around the world, deep inside people, and some of the seeds died, killed by the thorns that were there, but others grew strong. And someday, if they keep growing, all of them will be part of an even more beautiful tree.

"And the spirit returned to her mother and was part of the earth again.

"Someday, the thorny bush will grow back out of the earth and try to choke the tree again, so the tree will have to be strong. And the star will die, and the sky will be as it was, and the people will know the truth before they choose again."

Paulette's face glowed. She gurgled, not understanding a word. She crawled across the porch to Big Gus. He moved a lantern out of the way and picked her up. She grabbed at his thick moustache and he grinned. Ildico watched them and smiled.