All That Lives Read online

  “Perhaps they are confused of their direction, Jack.”

  “That would be so, dear Lucy, if only they were present! I cannot see what we can hear.” Father opened my window and the sound grew so intensely loud I grabbed Mother’s cotton nightdress in my fists and buried my face on her shoulder so as not to feel the talons and beaks I was certain would descend in the next moment.

  “Impossible!” Mother pried me loose and bade John Jr. come and sit beside me, as she wished to see the source of the noise for herself. I clutched my brother’s arm and peeked fearfully over his shoulder watching Mother squeeze in front of Father at my window. She bravely thrust her head outside and in a moment she drew back into my room and shut the window tight, diminishing the roar, but only slightly.

  “This is most unusual.” She stood frowning with concern and the light of Father’s flickering candle accentuated a dark shadow on her forehead.

  “Indeed.” Father exchanged a glance with her, then looked away, into the empty raging night.

  “Let us pray,” Mother cleared her throat and spoke with her usual composure. “Let us entreat God, with all His wisdom, to allow us to discover the origin of these strange noises.”

  We joined hands around my bed and bowed our heads beneath the sound of beating wings. Mother led a prayer but I could not focus on her words for I felt my head would soon split from the pressure of the noise. The sound grew louder, then louder still, and Richard and Joel woke up and came in crying.

  “It’s all right, boys,” Mother tried to reassure them. “Hold hands and join us in silent prayer.” Joel squeezed my fingers tight as the thick log walls of my room began to tremble and the house began to shake. What was happening? What were we to do? We prayed. Only when we had burned three candles down and the gray light of dawn graced the edges of the sky, only then did the striking wings and rumbling cease.

  Mid-morning we gathered at the breakfast table. School was not a question, as all of us were tired and distraught.

  “The Reverend Johnston will visit us today and I shall make inquiries, but I forbid all of you to speak a word of these disturbances.” Father looked first at me, then to my brothers, making certain we understood the serious nature of his directive. It was easily conveyed, for though we often saw him stern, he rarely was this somber. John Jr., Drewry, Richard, Joel and I avoided speaking to each other, since all we wished to speak of were the possible causes of the disturbance. Our house thundered an unusual quiet.

  When the Reverend arrived, I made it my business to trail behind him and Father, as they took their walk out on our lands. The day was lovely and the air buzzed with the flitting wings of hummingbirds drawing nectar from the fruit tree blossoms. White butterflies flew out of the new grasses as the men took the back path through the orchard down the hill to the stream. I followed at a good distance, excited to see the young corn stalks uncrooking their new green necks when we crossed the flat field at the foot of the orchard.

  “ ’Tis a good and loving God who sends such a spring to Adams!” the Reverend called loudly to my father, apparently hoping conversation would slow his pace, for the Reverend was stout and wheezed slightly when he walked. His long silver hair lay over his collar, splayed out by his black top hat. I saw it glinting in the sun before I slipped behind a tree.

  “We must give thanks at every step for our blessed fortune,” Father answered and they carried on awhile in silence winding down the path through the woods until they reached the stream where the air grew full of rambunctious water song. They stopped at a small clearing of sandy beach, where a little waterfall the length of Father’s boots rushed over gray stones into a shoal. I hid behind a large boulder on the bank above them and I was able to hear their every word.

  “Pray, Reverend, what do you recall of the great earth movements felt throughout this part of Tennessee in recent years?”

  “I recall an angry God reminding us we are as nothing to the force of His will and nature.” The Reverend bent and cast a stone into the stream with unusual playfulness for a man of his years. “I recall the tremors of the ground moved the souls of many, and attendance in the house of the Lord was greatly increased!” He laughed, watching the ripples he’d made in the water with his rock.

  “Have you felt any such earth movements of late?” Father did not respond to his humor and appeared deeply preoccupied with unspoken concerns. He bent and cast his own stone, only it hit another rock and bounced to the other side of the stream.

  “No,” the Reverend turned to him, “have you, Jack?”

  “I have felt something.” Father nodded, and I wondered if the Reverend could see as I could, even from my distance, Father’s reluctance to discuss the matter.

  “Describe it.” The Reverend waited.

  “It was a rumbling, and shaking, and trembling of the house.”

  “A rolling of the ground, a tremor of sorts?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  I wondered why Father did not more accurately convey our experience.

  “This was yesterday?”

  “It was.” Father bent at the knees and picked up another stone, casting it expertly to the center of the stream.

  “Well.” The Reverend moved his hands to his hips and flapped the tails of his jacket out sideways, appearing deep in thought. “I have just come from town where I paid a visit to Thorn’s country store. There were several folks gathered there sharing pipes with Thorn and sampling the hyson skin and bohea tea he has recently carted in from Nashville. No one mentioned an earth movement and I do believe if anyone had felt such a thing I would be among the first to hear of it.” He rolled his heels deeper in the sand, contemplating my father’s face, but Father kept his eyes on the ripples his stone had made in the stream.

  “Well, you are the first of whom I have inquired and I consider my original question now moot with your gracious reply.” He stood again, showing his white teeth in a smile, appearing satisfied, but I was much dismayed, for the Reverend clearly could shed no light on what the disturbance in our home might be.

  “Say, Jack, you have a sinkhole near the cold storehouse on your land, do you not?”

  “We do,” Father nodded.

  “Well, might your rumbling be the ground settling around your sinkhole now that spring has thawed the frozen earth?”

  “A good suggestion, Reverend. I will look there for an answer if we experience such rumbling again.”

  I thought of the place he mentioned where the ground curved down to make a grass lake of sorts by the entrance to our cold storehouse. How could a sinkhole be related to the flapping wings of invisible birds, or a tapping at the window glass? What could it have to do with the shaking of log walls? I laid my cheek against the smooth boulder that hid me well, and shut my eyes, tired and deeply concerned. I allowed the men to move away without me, continuing their stroll along the stream. They were clearly finished discussing the only subject I was interested in.

  I was good for nothing the rest of the day, dreading the setting of the sun. I gathered warm eggs from the chicken coop for Mother, and attempted a spell of mending in the afternoon, but I feared each stitch brought me closer to the evening and the hours were not long enough, so soon was it time to gather for supper.

  Our family joined hands around the table and bowed our heads to our wooden bowls. The steam off Chloe’s early spring pea soup filled our noses as Father recited the usual prayer.

  “O heavenly Father, dear Lord, we thank thee for thy gifts from Heaven and pray to serve with our souls, that they may be ever worthy of your blessings.”

  I prayed silently, Grant us an uneventful, quiet night of sleep, O Lord. I promise to be a better girl in every aspect, pleasing to my father and mother, compassionate to my brothers, and a dedicated listener in church, please God.

  “Amen.”

  “Amen,” we repeated, then sat in silence while Father sliced the biscuits in the basket.

  “Children,” Mother waited until all ou
r eyes were turned onto her face. “The prayers we say at table have more depth of meaning than you may be aware.”

  Joel shook his golden curls, anxious to get at his food.

  “May we begin?” Drewry lifted his spoon in inquiry.

  “Listen to your mother.” Father’s tone was sharp as his cutting knife.

  “You may,” Mother answered, looking to Drewry, seeming somewhat distracted in her thoughts. She continued, “To be ‘ever worthy’ you must strive to put your faith in the Lord and know you will not be misguided. I wish each of you to remember this.” I watched her competent fingers smoothing her napkin on her lap and I could tell she was concerned, and wished us to be brave. For her sake, I did want to try, but it was difficult. Already I felt unbearably anxious and as the last light of day disappeared from the windows, I found myself unable to lift my head and look at anyone. Chloe’s normally light biscuits went down my throat like rocks, and I felt so tired I was barely able to raise my spoon to my mouth.

  “Betsy dear, I believe you should retire.” Mother excused me from the Bible reading after supper and, exhausted, I went directly to sleep in my own bed, only to be awakened in the middle of the night by Richard and Joel climbing on top of me, chattering.

  “Sister, sister, there is a rat gnawing on our bedpost!”

  “Quiet. Let me listen …” I cuddled them under my quilts and, stretching my ears into the darkness, I heard it too, faint but distinct, the sound of an animal, gnawing wood. Joel began to cry.

  “What’s the matter? Did it bite you?” I was relieved, thinking nothing of a rat at the bedpost compared to a flock of invisible birds beating down the walls. A rat could not produce a shaking of our house. The sound stopped and I heard Drewry’s steps before I saw the light of his candle in the hall.

  “There is nothing there again!” He entered my room shaking his head in disbelief. “I was quite near to it, sister, and plainly heard the gnashing of its teeth, but it took some time to catch a spark on my char cloth off the flint and steel in the dark. When I lit the wick I was standing right beside where I heard the rat but I saw nothing there. Nothing scuttered under the bed, nothing ran from the room. I saw no evidence of gnawing and the noise ceased with the light.” Drewry pushed away the hair fallen on his forehead, struggling to make sense of his experience.

  “But hear it now!” Richard cried and I realized the gnawing had started up again. The boys and I huddled close together on my bed. With great courage, Drewry strode back to his room and when his footsteps ended, so the noise did stop. There was silence across the upstairs.

  “Betsy, bring your candle and come quick,” Drewry called and I did as he asked, repeating to myself, be brave, be strong and trust the Lord will protect you from harm. Joel and Richard each clutched one side of my nightdress in their solid fists and we made our way down the dark hall into their bedroom.

  “Light it.” Drewry took my arm and passed the flame to my wick and we held both our candles aloft. We searched every nook and corner, inspecting even the tiniest cracks in the plank floor, as if a rat could thin itself and slip between them, but we saw nothing. We stayed close together, uncertain of what we might find, investigating each shadow with great trepidation. Richard and Joel had a firm grip on our nightclothes and bumped against our backs as we moved along.

  “Betsy, my neck’s gone prickly,” Drewry whispered in my ear.

  “Shhh, the little ones are frightened enough,” I answered. Neither of us knew what to do next.

  “What is this about?” John Jr. entered and the way our lights cast shadows on his long jaw reminded me with comfort how much he did resemble Father. We told him of the gnawing sound.

  “Retire to my room,” he insisted, but no sooner had we passed the landing and entered his dormer than the gnawing commenced again and this time it was accompanied by the ear-splitting sound of wood cracking apart.

  “It sounds as though my bedroom furniture is on its way to kindling!”

  “Run, Betsy!”

  We raced across the hall to witness what could cause such destruction, but when our candles reached my door the noises ceased. Everything was as it always was. My rocking chair sat unmoving by the open window, my wardrobe stood in its place against the northern wall, my chamber pot was inconspicuous in the corner, and the china bowl of my washstand gleamed under our candle flames by the doorway. Only my quilts had fallen to the floor. All was silent.

  “Fetch the lamps from the parlor, Drewry.” John Jr. could even sound like Father when he gave commands and Drewry did respond, setting off downstairs. I picked up the quilts and wrapped up Joel and Richard on my bed, trying to keep from shaking with apprehension. I moved with caution, afraid the very bed stand might give way beneath us as we settled, for I had most certainly heard the sound of furniture breaking coming from my room.

  “May we keep the lamps lit through the night?” I asked John Jr., hoping he would support such an effort. Father was not stingy with the lamp oil as many were, but he was not wasteful, and burning a lamp through the night without good cause would mean a certain trip to the barn.

  “I know not.” John Jr. looked confused regarding what to do. “Perhaps we should wake Father …” he suggested, but he did not start for the door.

  “I am awake, my son.” Father was on the stairs and spoke curtly. He entered with Drewry behind him carrying the lamps, unlit.

  “Blow out your candles, I have brought the tinderbox should we need it.” Father had a plan and we obeyed him, blowing out our flames, but I grew most anxious and concerned, for as Drewry had just described, I knew the flint and steel of the tinderbox could take an eternity to light. In the dark we listened and immediately there came again the sound of the rat gnawing the bedpost, only now it was in my room, right beside us, and the sound of wood splitting came from Drewry, Richard and Joel’s room, accompanied by the discordant tinkle of metal screws falling to the floor.

  “Don’t let it bite me, Betsy!” Richard wailed, turning his face to my shoulder while Joel hiccuped a sob of fear. I pulled the two of them up to the head of the bed, moving as far away from the sound as possible. The gnawing grew louder, evolving into a hideous scratching on the floor, as though an animal as large as a dog or a deer was trapped beneath my bed. I held tight to the boys and was about to scream for Father to hurry and strike the flint and catch a spark when Mother appeared in the doorway with a lit lamp in her hand, revealing my bedpost, whole and uneaten, and nothing present except ourselves in the room.

  “The good Lord gave us light and so be it. We will burn a lamp in each room this evening and consider this matter with the sun on our faces tomorrow.” Mother was calm, as always, and made this pronouncement as though nothing was amiss that we could not address. “Richard dear, no rat will bite you, Father and I will guard your beds.” She took Joel from me into her arms and there was no further discussion of the trauma. She managed to balance him on her hip so his curls mashed against her shoulder, while motioning with her other hand that held the lamp for Richard to follow her. He jumped quickly off the bed and rushed to her side, clutching her nightdress with tight fingers. I saw Joel gripped her waist with his legs and her neck with locked hands as though he planned never to let go.

  “I want to sleep with Richard and Joel!” I cried, though I knew it was not brave. I was too scared to lie in my own bed.

  “I will sleep with John Jr.” Drewry volunteered to give his bed to me and I believe he needed his elder brother’s comfort as much as I needed not to sleep alone. Father nodded his agreement, but his attention was not with our sleeping arrangements. He lit the two remaining lamps with Mother’s flame and held them high above his head, illuminating as much of my room as possible.

  “Give one to the boys, Jack.” Mother saw him hand a lamp to John Jr. and then she left to tuck Joel and Richard in their beds. I wanted to jump from my bed and run after her, but her departure left a darkness at my doorway I feared to cross and I decided to wait until Father had f
inished his inspection so he might walk me down the hall.

  “What is this, Betsy?” His voice was low and quiet and his inquiry so sincere I thought he had found something previously hidden. I stretched forward on my hands and knees, craning my neck to see off the edge of the bed what he was referring to.

  “What is what, Father?” He did not reply to my question, but turned instead to face me, allowing the lamp to dangle from his hand so the room darkened and only a portion of the floor received the light.

  “Darling daughter, shall I lie with you awhile?” He suggested this, but I could see he did not really want to lie with me. I could hear the tiredness in his tone.

  “No, please, Father. Rather, I would go to sleep in Drewry’s bed for I am frightened, and I wish to be near the little boys should they awake, for they will inspire me to be brave.” I stood up quickly and Father took my hand in his and pulled me to him in the dark.

  “Fear not, darling daughter, I will be close at hand.” I was greatly relieved he did not wish to lie with me, for though his hand on my back was reassuring and his skin warm and comforting under his worn cotton nightshirt, I found the smell of the drink he had consumed after dinner sour and disgusting on his breath. He stepped out of our embrace but kept hold of my hand, raising his lamp to light our way down the hall.

  Mother was tucking the quilts around Richard and Joel when we reached the bedroom. “Go to sleep now,” she told the boys, managing to make it sound reasonable to try again.

  “You too, Betsy.” Father patted my behind as I hurried to be near Mother. Her lamp burned on the golden pine table under the window between Richard’s and Joel’s beds and there was plenty of light, enough to see that neither Richard nor Joel were crying, and they both looked fairly sleepy. I did not think I would sleep again, as my eyes felt stretched and widened by my furtive glances into the dark corners of the room, but Mother kindly agreed to stay awhile. We climbed together into Drew’s bed along the wall and, pulling my body against hers, she snuggled her knees into my own.