The Vanishing Point (27 page)

Her hands found her sewing basket and the scissors inside. A pity it was too dark to start cutting patterns. She imagined a stack of neatly folded infant clothes. When she pressed the scissors' sharp point to her lips, it was not a smiling baby she saw, but her sister's bloodless face, her body draped in a white shroud.
Will it kill me too, then, the child inside me?
How would she survive the birth with her narrow hips? If Gabriel was right and it was a big boy inside her, how would she ever squeeze him out? She imagined her sister watching over her with cold, unforgiving eyes. Outside, the owls sang and the river surged in darkness.

***

It had to be November. Only a few shriveled leaves clung to the naked branches. Frost bleached the grass, but the first snow had not yet come. November was the blood month of hunting, culling, and slaughter. Gabriel butchered two pigs and a goat. He went into the forest with his musket and returned with deer and wild turkey. The meat Hannah could no longer stomach piled on their table. She helped Gabriel salt the pork, then made sausages and blood pudding.

One day Bessie disappeared. In a panic, Hannah searched for her everywhere. Hours later, Gabriel found her in the tobacco barn with a litter of red puppies. "One of them can be yours," he told Hannah as she stroked the squirming bodies.

"I like this one." She lifted one of the females. The puppy licked her nose and playfully nipped her hand with sharp milk teeth.

"What will you call her?"

"I have to know her before I can name her. Maybe Ruby, since she's so red."

***

While the first snow fell, Hannah cut the pattern for her new dress to her old measurements. This wasn't going to be a maternity robe but a gown for the slender girl she had once been and hoped to be again, if God spared her through the birth. She stitched each seam carefully, as if the dress were a talisman of luck, promising her a long life and happy future. It was as though she were viewing the time after her labor in a fortuneteller's crystal ball. How handsome the future Hannah looked in the patterned cotton Gabriel had procured at great expense. He had clothed her like a gentlewoman, given her a jeweled ring to wear on her finger. Hannah in the crystal ball was happy, laughing the way her sister used to, her face turned lovingly to Gabriel, who held their son in his arms, the proudest father alive. When the little boy was old enough, the three of them would dance together, their feet picking a merry pattern over the floorboards, the lovely gathered skirt flying out to reveal her ankles, shapely again, no longer swollen from pregnancy. She was a beautiful young mother, gentle but strong enough to protect her child from every evil.

Keeping the vision in her head, she tried to banish her doubts and fears with each completed seam. After the dress was finished, she sewed baby clothes, tiny sheets, and pillowcases with the leftover fabric. When Gabriel praised her clever sewing, she held her tongue and didn't tell him she was a clumsy seamstress compared to May.
Our May could stitch in her sleep.

May's ghost was at her elbow, making her seams crooked. Night after night, she dreamt of her sister walking barefoot through a forest of dead trees. A piece of mildewed sacking covered her wasted body. May no longer wept or cried out to her. She was quiet as bones. Silence settled around her grave with the drifting snow. It was the silence that oppressed Hannah most, that sent her fears into a deafening cacophony. Her doubts grew and grew, just like her belly, swelling like a gourd until she thought she would burst and that the bursting would kill her. Something inside her was going to wrench her open, tear her flesh, force its way out. Something she couldn't conceal from Gabriel any longer.

***

"A lonely life we lead," she said one evening as she filled Gabriel's trencher with slices of turkey she had roasted on the spit.

"It will be less lonely when the child comes," he said contentedly.

Hannah bit her lip before she spoke. "But will it not be strange and unwholesome for the child to grow up without playmates?"

Gabriel laughed. "We'll have to give him a passel of brothers and sisters, then, won't we?" He winked at her.

How could he speak so carelessly, talking about many births when she could not see beyond this one birth? She let her knife fall against the table with a loud clang. "I don't want to drop a baby every year like one of your goats."

"Hannah, what is this? You are in a temper."

"I am lonely," she confessed. "I miss the company of other females."

"There isn't much to be done about it."

She picked up her knife. "I wish there were neighbors we could call on."

"The Gardiners?" he asked her pointedly. "Or do you prefer the Banhams?"

"I wish we had other neighbors."

He gave her a wistful look. "You used to be happy here."
Laying his hand on hers, he fingered her ruby and pearl ring. "I cannot give you everything, but I give you everything I have."

She nodded and tried to smile. "I know, Gabriel."

"You will feel better," he promised, "when the baby is here."

"What if I am not strong enough?"

"What are you saying?"

She gazed into his eyes, hoping to see what lay behind them. "It killed her. What makes you think it would not kill me?"

"You said we would speak no more of it."

"Gabriel, I do not." Her voice shook. "I do not speak of rumors but of my sister. You say she died of childbed fever."

He was already turning away from her, one hand covering his eyes. "Why must you—"

She cut him off. "It could be the death of me, too. Women die having babies. Ladies of wealth write their wills before they go into childbirth."

"You are young and strong. We love each other. I will not let you die."

"
She
was strong and yet she died."

The breath seemed to leave his body. "You are not convinced of my innocence."

"If you are innocent, then there's no harm in mentioning my own sister's name." Her voice was raw and cruel. She sounded like the worst sort of harpy, but now that she had started, she couldn't stop. "What do you know of midwifery? Will you let me have this child all alone like Bessie birthed her puppies?"

"Hannah!" He slammed his hand against the table, causing the trenchers to skid. "I told you before." He spoke thinly, between clenched teeth. "When the time comes, I will fetch a midwife."

"I am ignorant of the days. I know not when my time comes and neither do you." Her voice ripped out of her throat with a violence that astounded her. It was as though she were unleashing demons. "What in the devil's name happened to that cradle?"

"What cradle?"

"May's cradle. The one pushed under the bed." Not caring if she hurt him or not, she let the words fly. "There's a crack running down the headboard. How did it get there, Gabriel? Who would crack a cradle like that?"

He struck the table again, this time with his fist. "What are you saying to me?"

"You never told me how her baby died." She looked at him, waiting for what would come next. "Will you let me die just as she did?"

He muttered something under his breath and walked out of the house.

After a moment had passed, she found her shawl and stumbled out the door. Looking neither left nor right, she lurched down the path. There was more than one way to kill a woman. If he hadn't killed May with outright violence, then could he have done it with neglect? If he had loved and cherished May, she would have held on to life after losing the baby. Why hadn't he taken better care of her?

Looking into her future, Hannah saw the green cotton dress folded in the drawer, not her body inside the dress. She had no reason to believe she would live when so many other women died.
May the devil take you. May you fester in hell for what you have done.
She didn't know whether it was Gabriel she was cursing or herself.

When she reached her sister's grave, she knelt in the shallow snow and wailed as she had never wailed before. She shrieked and keened like a madwoman. The dogs rushed over and sniffed her. They whined softly and licked her before trotting away. The cold wind stung her wet face. Her voice grew hoarse as a crow's. Still, she didn't stop shrieking until a shadow marked the snow in front of her. Gabriel stepped between her and the cross with her sister's name on it. He held the fur cloak he had made for her last year in one hand and Ruby, the puppy, in the other. Kneeling in the snow, he pressed the puppy into her arms, then wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. He raised her to her feet. Hannah cradled the little dog, let it lick her.

"Tomorrow I will go to the Banhams and ask them to send one of their women to stay with you until the baby is born." He spoke quietly, brushing her hair out of her face. "But please don't go on accusing me and giving me those looks. You know I can't bear it. If you think me guilty and wish yourself back, I'll sell everything I own and pay your passage to England. You can pass as a widow there and find another man who will make you happy."

Hannah looked at him through her tears. Her vision of him was so blurred. She wondered if she would ever see him clearly.

"Don't blame this entire misfortune on me. What can one man do? The woman's gone, and I can't bring her back." His voice broke. When he turned his face away from her, she knew he was crying. At last the moment had come. He was standing with her on her sister's grave, crying for May as she had cried. Setting the puppy on the ground, Hannah clasped his hands.

"Come, love," she whispered. "It's so cold out here." The puppy tagging along behind, she led him back to the house. Once in the door, he dragged the old cradle from beneath the other bed and sat down to repair it. He nailed the loose side so that it was solid again. Working with his adze, he smoothed the crack in the headboard. Hannah held the puppy in her lap and ran her numb fingers over Ruby's fur while she watched him work. She longed to ask him, this time in a calm way, how such a sturdy birch cradle could have been broken. But one look at his wounded face silenced her.

O
NE EVENING, MAY PULLED
a bench close to the hearth and invited Adele to sit with her. The male servants had already retired to their shack. Gabriel had gone out for his ablutions. Nathan dozed in his chair. When he awoke, he would send everyone to his or her bed, then bolt the door for the night. But May was too excited for sleep. She felt like a dull neglected thing that had been polished and made to shine again. Not only had she regained the power and pleasure of her body, she thought she had also, in a way, regained her innocence. She could sit beside the fire with Adele, who smiled at her as Hannah once had. In Adele's eyes, May was every inch the virtuous young mistress.
Above rubies.

"You look pretty this night," Adele said shyly. "
Belle
" The girl sidled up and whispered in her ear, "You no longer need the love charm?"

"No, Adele." She touched her hand fondly, then took the poker and drew random shapes in the ashes. A rose. A circle. A heart.

"You are happy." Adele spoke with awe.

"Yes." The flames leaping in the hearth reminded May of the fire in his eyes, the fire in his flesh when he took her. An idea sparked inside her. Running her sole lightly over the ashes, she rubbed out the shapes she had made. "If you like, I will teach you
to read and write." She touched Adele's knee. "We can start with the alphabet."

Adele pointed her thumb toward Nathan, whose snores shook the floorboards. "He would forbid it, no?"

"I will persuade him," May promised. "He is a good Christian and would have his servants be good Christians as well. How can you read the Bible, Adele, if you do not know your letters?" Poker in hand, she went through the alphabet, having Adele trace each letter in the ashes beside her own. They kept passing the poker back and forth. In the meantime, Gabriel returned.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked her softly.

The girl stood up, prepared to leave, but May caught her hand.

"Soon," she said, smiling at him until he blushed and disappeared behind the bed curtains. She winked at Adele, who swallowed a giggle. Uncommonly clever, the girl mastered the letters in no time.

"Tomorrow night, I will teach you to write your name."

Adele reached down the front of her smock and pulled up a tarnished circle of silver that hung from a string around her neck. When she held it up in the firelight, May saw it was a slender bangle with Adele's name engraved on the inner rim. Taking the poker, the girl copied the letters, spelling
Adele Desvarieux
in the ashes.

May fingered the bangle. "Who gave this to you?" Flashing the girl a conspiratorial smile, she imagined a secret sweetheart.

Adele's eyes moistened. "My old mistress." She turned the bracelet round and round.

May rested her hand on Adele's shoulder. "Your mistress from the island?"

Adele nodded.

"Do you miss her?"

"She is dead."

The girl's sadness pierced May. "I am sorry. Were you fond of her?"

Nathan snorted in his sleep, but did not wake.

Adele nodded, then looked forlornly at the bracelet. It was meant for a child to wear, May noted. Too small even for Adele's slender wrists.

"It is spoiled," Adele mumbled. "The silver it does not shine."

"I have a trick I will show you. Give me the bracelet, just for a moment."

Adele passed it to her. Scooping up a handful of cold ash, May rubbed it against the silver.

"No, no!" Adele tried to snatch it back.

"Adele, just watch." May patiently rubbed ash against the bangle until the tarnish was gone. "Don't you see?" It shone in her hand, gleaming and pure. She pressed it into Adele's palm. "Just like new again."

***

On a bright afternoon, Gabriel leapt across the creek. May had told him that she and Adele were going into the forest to gather pine boughs and pinecones to make the house pretty for Christmas. It would take a woman to think of such things, he thought fondly. Before her arrival, they had never bothered about decoration. Christmas was when he and the servants received their new set of clothes for the coming year. Father read a longer passage from the Bible than was his custom. Afterward they emptied a barrel of cider while Jack played his whistle, the manservants capering like drunken fools. But this Christmas would be different. May would civilize them.