When the Wind Blows (32 page)

Dan Gurley glanced up at the sky, then casually
strolled over to the little group that included Diana Amber.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked. Bill shot him a look of warning, but Dan ignored it.

“It’s fun,” Diana said, smiling at the marshal in spite of the headache that was beginning to prod at her. “I’ve missed a lot in my life, haven’t I? Do you suppose it’s too late to catch up?”

“I doubt it.” Dan sat down on the blanket and stretched his long legs out. “Hear your mother wants to blow up the mine,” he said suddenly. He watched Diana carefully and was sure he saw her flinch.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Bill said quickly. Dan glanced at him, then his eyes returned to Diana.

“What do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I know how dangerous the mine is, and I know all the horrible things that have happened there, but I have the oddest feeling. It’s as if, with the mine destroyed, something will be taken away from me, something that I don’t want to lose.”

“What?”

“That’s what bothers me. I don’t know. All I know is that it would be like … losing a child.”

Dan Gurley frowned. “That’s an odd thing to say,” he observed.

Suddenly Diana felt trapped. She looked from Dan to Bill, then back to Dan again. Were they looking at her strangely? She couldn’t be sure, but she knew she had made a mistake.

The wind was blowing harder, and her headache was getting worse.

   The children’s games began, and Diana tried to concentrate on them but it was difficult. Something was happening in her mind. Sounds were coming to her, calling to her.

The three-legged race began, and Diana was dimly aware that Christie was out there, her left ankle tied
to Jeff Crowley’s right, but she couldn’t seem to make out exactly where Christie was.

Instead she saw herself on the field, but it was another field, a field near her house, and she was playing with Esperanza. And then she saw her mother moving toward her, her face angry, her clenched fist raised in the air.

“No,” she whimpered. “Please, no …”

Beside her, Bill Henry squeezed her arm. “Diana? Is something wrong?”

It seemed to bring her back to reality, and her vision cleared. But her head still ached, and dimly, in the back of her mind, she could still hear a voice.

A baby, crying out to her. She forced herself to ignore the sound.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little headache.” She searched the field, then saw Christie.

The little girl was running, leaning heavily on Jeff, and anger suddenly welled up in Diana. Where was she going? Was she running away? Her head was throbbing. Suddenly she called out Christie’s name and took a step out onto the field.

Christie turned at the sound of Diana’s voice, and the motion threw her and Jeff off-balance. They fell to the ground, and Christie felt a sudden pain in her leg. When she looked at it, blood was pouring from a deep gash in her calf. Horrified by the sight of the blood, she began screaming.

Diana, along with everyone else, was running across the field now, but inside her head chaos raged. Images, real and imagined, mixed together. The baby was calling to her, screaming in agony, and ahead of her she could see it, lying on the ground, its face contorted with pain. She had to get to it, to ease its pain and make it stop crying.

But there were people around it now, and she couldn’t get to it. Someone was lifting her baby, carrying it away.

“No,” Diana mumbled. “It’s my baby. You can’t take my baby away from me.”

But they were.

Diana Amber, her head throbbing with pain, the wind moaning loudly in her ears, watched as Christie Lyons was carried away.

She couldn’t let it happen. She lurched forward, determined not to let them take her baby away from her.

21

Diana opened her eyes and looked up. She was lying on her back, a blanket covering her body. Bill Henry’s face loomed above her.

The wind, in its capricious fashion, had faded away as fast as it had come up.

“Diana?” Bill’s voice seemed far away, as if he were speaking to her through a tunnel. “Are you all right?”

“Wha—what happened?”

“There was an accident.”

Fear clutched at Diana and she struggled to sit up, but Bill restrained her.

“It’s nothing serious,” he told her. “Christie tripped and fell on a piece of glass. When you saw the blood, you fainted.”

Diana heard the words, but they had no meaning. Blood? What was he talking about? She couldn’t remember any blood. All she could remember was—what?

It was gone, all of it.

She sat up slowly. “Christie? Where’s Christie? Is she all right?”

“I’m okay, Aunt Diana.”

Diana looked around and saw Christie standing near her, a bandage wrapped around her right calf. “It isn’t as bad as it looks,” Bill told her. “There was a lot of blood, but I didn’t have to take any stitches. It won’t even leave a scar.” He looked into Diana’s eyes
and took her wrist, checking her pulse. “In fact, I’m more worried about you than I am about her.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for a clue. What had she said?
What had happened to her, and why couldn’t she remember it?
Desperately she tried to sort it out in her mind, but there was nothing there. Only one more of those terrible voids, as if she had stood still and time had passed her by. She tried to get up, but Bill stopped her.

“Just lie there awhile,” she heard him saying. “You only fainted, and you’ll be all right in a few minutes. Between the sun, the wind, and the blood, it was just too much.”

Diana closed her eyes but couldn’t relax. She could feel her heart pounding, and her whole body felt clammy, as if she’d just thrown up.

But everything was all right. All that had happened was that she’d fainted. Everybody did that now and then, didn’t they? Except that other people remembered what had happened, and she didn’t.

She mustn’t let them know. If they knew, they’d think she was crazy, and they’d take Christie away from her. Again she struggled to sit up.

“I’m all right now,” she insisted when Bill still tried to restrain her. “I just feel like an idiot, that’s all. Is there any water?”

Joyce Crowley handed Diana a glass of iced tea, and she gulped it, though she wasn’t really thirsty.

“Thank you.”

She looked around now and saw that she was surrounded by a crowd of people. As they saw that she was recovering they began to drift away. Soon no one was left but their own small group, which Dan Gurley had joined. He was staring at her.

“I’m not sick,” Diana said quickly. Too quickly? She searched the faces around her, but except for Bill, no one seemed concerned. Only Dan, whom she was almost
certain was eyeing her strangely. But before he could say anything Matt Crowley distracted him.

“What do you think? Calm enough for the fireworks?”

Dan seemed to forget about Diana as he scanned the sky. “Looks good to me. Shall we start setting up?”

As the two men walked away Diana spoke to Christie. “Honey, don’t you think we ought to go home?”

“I want to stay for the fireworks,” Christie said. “My leg doesn’t hurt. Really it doesn’t!” Then, her eyes pleading with Diana: “Besides, we have to plan the camp-out!”

The camp-out. Diana had forgotten all about it, but suddenly that day with Jeff and Christie came flooding back to her. Except for that moment in the mine, it had been a good day; out of the house, away from her mother. And there had been no wind to plague her that day.

Today had been a good day, too, until the wind had come up.

But the wind was gone now. Everything was fine.

   In Shacktown, Esperanza and Juan Rodriguez sat on the porch of one of Esperanza’s friends and watched the fireworks in the distance. The Shacktown people never went to the picnic, but instead gathered together in front of their houses while their children played in the dusty streets. It was hot, and as the day wore on, bringing the searing wind, tempers, ever-edgy, frayed, and fights broke out.

This year the people of Shacktown were talking about what was happening in the cave of the lost children. Ever since Jay-Jay Jennings had died, the women had been murmuring among themselves, sure that Jay-Jay’s death had not been an accident. But they were equally sure that no human being had been responsible for it either.

No, it was the children, angry over their rest being disturbed. The women of Shacktown were sure that
los niños
had reached out and taken Jay-Jay, and they were also sure that more was going to happen.

It was the wind that convinced them. This year the wind had blown too much, and too late into the year. And to them the wind and the children were inextricably entwined, for it was only when the wind blew that they could hear the children crying.

Eddie Whitefawn listened to his elders talk and wondered if he should tell them about the night Jay-Jay had died, and how he had been there that night, and watched as Miss Diana had come to the mine. But the mine was forbidden to him, and he knew he would be punished if his grandmother found out what he had done. So instead of speaking out Eddie listened and remained quiet.

Esperanza, too, listened to the talk and nodded her head wisely, knowing that what the women were saying was true. She wondered if she should speak to Miss Diana and warn her to watch out for the little girl, but deep in her heart she knew she wouldn’t. Miss Diana was a
gringo
, and wouldn’t understand.

Besides, Esperanza realized as she watched the rockets burst into the night sky, there was such a thing as fate. A person could be as careful as possible, could pray and watch for signs, but in the end fate was all that mattered. It was fate that had given her her place in life, and fate that had sent her Juan. If fate chose to send the children screaming vengefully from the cave, then it would happen.

There was nothing she could do, though she would continue to pray.…

   The last of the fireworks flared in the night sky, and Diana gratefully got into Bill’s car for the ride home. She was tired and wished that they could have left a long time ago. Ever since her fainting spell, she
hadn’t felt well, and she slumped against the door as Bill drove out of town.

“It wasn’t such a good day after all, was it?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“I guess not.” Diana sighed.

Bill glanced at her, and there was something in his look that made her suddenly wary. And when he spoke she was frightened.

“What was it exactly that made you faint?” she heard him ask.

What was he saying? Was he testing her? Trying to find out if she remembered?

“The heat,” she said. “And the blood. I’ve never been able to stand the sight of blood.” She made herself produce a sound that wasn’t quite laughter. “I guess I wouldn’t have made a good doctor’s wife, would I?”

“Well, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,” Bill said, turning into the Ambers’ long driveway. As they approached the house, they could see lights blazing from the living-room window. “Damn,” Diana said softly. “I was going to invite you in.”

“Do it anyway,” Bill suggested.

“Oh, no.” Diana sighed. “Why make a bad day worse? Mother will have a long list of complaints and do her best to make me feel guilty for having left her alone so long. Well,” she went on, “I just won’t let her do it.” But in her mind she wasn’t so sure.

Bill parked the car and walked her to the door, carrying Christie. As Diana put her key in the lock Christie stirred and woke up. She scrambled out of Bill’s arms and scooted through the front door.

As Diana was about to go inside Bill gave her a quick hug. “Keep up the fight,” he whispered, then was gone into the night. Diana stood on the porch, trying to interpret what he might have meant by the comment until his taillights had disappeared, then
went into the house. Edna was in the living room, listening to Christie chattering about the picnic.

“And Aunt Diana fainted!” Diana heard Christie saying excitedly. “It was right after I cut my leg, and everybody thought she was dead or something!”

Edna’s eyes left Christie and shifted to Diana. “Go to bed, child, and let me talk to Diana,” she said. Christie said good night to both of them and went upstairs. Only when she was gone did Edna speak to Diana.

“What did she mean, you fainted?”

Instantly Diana became wary. “It was hot, and I ate too much too fast, and I fainted. That’s all.”

“What time did it happen, Diana?” Edna’s voice was low and her blue eyes were flashing. Diana hesitated and Edna spoke again. “I can find out. I can call your friend Joyce Crowley, and she’ll tell me exactly what happened. You fainted when the wind was blowing, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“What else happened?”

“I—I don’t know, Mama,” Diana said miserably. She shrank back as if expecting her mother to hit her.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” Edna raged. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Now, tell me!”

“I already told you, Mother,” Diana shouted back at her. “I don’t know what happened. I was watching the children, and then I fainted. I don’t remember anything else.”

“That’s always your excuse, isn’t it? You don’t remember. Do you really think you can live that way, remembering only what you want to remember? It won’t work, Diana. I tell you, it won’t work! What will you do when I’m not here to protect you?”