Dark Witness (31 page)

Pea was kneeling. Duncan lay on his stomach clutching one of her beautiful pillows as if it were the last plank of a sunken ship bobbing in a quiet and endless sea. He looked at his paintings and his writings, gaining no inspiration, simply lost in the stunning images he had created of a Christ that bore a surprising resemblance to him. It was too dark, and the writing too small, for him to read his poems or his prophesizing, but he knew each and every word by heart if he chose to remember them. Which he did not. In fact, the only thing Duncan Thoth had chosen to do since returning to Clara's Landing was to lie in this room. It reminded him of his childhood: The silence, the dark, the warmth, Pea and him, him and Pea. And God, of course. If Duncan were truthful, he would admit that he resented that Pea always brought God to the party. Today, He was absent and Duncan, lazy in the mind, wished Pea would remain silent forever. That would mean Duncan's work was done. There would be no prophesies, no interpretation, no need to heal. Nothing for Duncan to do; nothing for Duncan to explain.

Duncan turned his head and let his eyes rest on Pea. Now he knew why her head was perpetually bowed. She bowed it not because she was in awe of the Lord but because there was nothing worthwhile in this world to see. His head had been up for years and all he had seen was the worst of humanity, the cruelty, and the hopelessness that people refused to acknowledge. It would be so much easier if people embraced the thing that made them freakish, or slow, or unworthy. Hope was not just a bitter pill; it was a horse pill, so big you could choke on it before it did any good.

Still, he would have liked Pea to look at him once. If she did, he would know what kind of man he was: a savior, a killer, a man of God, or simply a man. It would be a pity if he were simply a man. Duncan willed Pea to look at him, because her gaze would be honest. Unlike Melody's. The minute she walked into his house unannounced and saw him clutching his pillow and cowering under a blanket, her eyes had changed.

She knew what had happened to Billy Zuni. In his eye she saw the kaleidoscope of pride, and delight, and horror, and guilt. She saw his honesty and his humanity. It was that – his strength and frailty – that at once disappointed and elevated her. He knew she would no longer fear him or beg him.

And Pea's gaze would not be like Hannah's.

He saw her distrust; he felt her wariness. No matter how eloquently Duncan spoke, nothing could convince her that Billy refused to return to Clara's Landing. Her faith was in that boy when it should have been invested in Duncan.

Pea's gaze would not be like Teresa's.

Her old woman eyes stared through him as if he was the one of no consequence. She used to desire his absolution more than anything in the world. Now that she had forgiven herself, his forgiveness was insignificant.

Duncan rolled onto his back and brought the pillow with him. He sighed. He put one hand over his face as he closed his eyes. He was very tired, very content to just be, and very annoyed when Pea chose the moment he was nodding off to trill. She burped and trilled again. His hand fell to his side and the other hugged the pillow tighter. He took a deep breath and rolled himself up until he was sitting.

"What, Pea? What do you want to tell me?" he asked, his voice soft with weariness and the love he had for her.

Mark 1:15

Matthew 10:8

Luke 13:32

She burped and trilled. Her fingers twitched and then were quiet again.

"Pea. . ."

His reached out for her, his palm upward, his fingers extended. He wanted to touch her chin, to raise her head, to see her eyes. Only Teresa could touch Pea that way and knowing that gave Duncan a revelation. He did not keep Teresa because he wanted to heal her or guide her to God's good grace; he kept her because she was Pea's handmaiden.

With that knowledge, Duncan's soul lightened. Tonight, he would have Melody attend to Pea. If Pea allowed that, Teresa would be sent on her way. She would be doomed to live the rest of her life in the world that had shunned her. She was as unworthy of being a handmaiden in the same way she was unworthy of being a mother.

Problem solved. He put his hands gently on the side of Pea's head and put his lips atop his sister's soft black hair.

"Thank you, Pea."

The healing had begun and it had started with him.

***

Mama Cecilia watched through the night. She may have slept a little because the chair in which she sat – the very chair in which Oki watched the people on the television – was soft and comfortable. She had a blanket Oki had given her and she wore the yellow jacket. Oki said it would be better if Billy slept covered by her
amaut
so that he would sleep with the spirits of the seal, and the fox, and the wolf. The yellow jacket had spirits, too. She could feel that there was goodness in it.

Mama Cecilia also watched over Oki's blue house because Oki was gone. Not his body, of course. She saw him lying on his bed, his hands crossed, and his eyes closed. He even snored as if he was sleeping, but he was not. He was
Journeying
and conversing with ancestors as he made his way through the Otherworld. She hoped he would come back with wisdom for both the boy and her. Still, if he only brought a message for the-son-of-another-mother that would be fine, too.

It was early in the morning when Mama realized that Billy was not sleeping under her
amaut
any longer. He was moving quietly in Oki's house, opening drawers and looking at the things on the tables in Oki's house. He still wore the sweater she had put on him, but he also wore some pants that Oki had found for him to wear. She thought to cry out when Billy seemed to find something he liked and took it in his hand. If he was stealing from Oki then Mama Cecilia should say something, but it seemed that he was not.

Billy went to Oki's bathroom and shut the door.

Mama Cecilia watched that room and thought perhaps he would climb out the window, stealing whatever he had taken from the drawer. That was a possibility, but then she must have slept because when she woke Oki was standing in the room. He was not watching television; he was looking at Billy, who did not look like the son-of-another-mother any longer.

He looked like a warrior.

CHAPTER 27

I am better, but I am not well.

Whatever happened to me was worse than the truck accident because it left me hollow and wrung out. I'm lying in this bed, watching outside. I know that this change in darkness is simply the passing of the day and not a storm coming. I can't hear anything, not even Glenn chopping wood. This room is like a sensory deprivation chamber. I am neither here nor there. I don't want to stay like this, but there is nowhere I'd rather go. I think this place has made me feel this way.

This was what frightened Billy.

This is what he was trying to warn me about.

This is why he left, because I wouldn't listen and he didn't want to wither away here. I can't blame him.

I think he's gone to find the sun. Or maybe he's gone to call Josie. All I know is that he's gone and most of me is gone with him. Josie faded away in that container; Billy has melted away with the snow. Duncan must not want to marry me anymore because he doesn't come to read to me or show me a drawing. That's not a bad thing. I wasn't going to marry him anyway, but it's strange to be here alone and not caring that I am. I could do something about it. I can walk. I can talk. I just don't.

I'm hollow.

Without Billy, I have no reason to fill myself up again.

So I lay here. I watch the dark.

I wonder what everyone's doing.

I don't care.

Duncan stood before his congregation wearing the jacket he preferred. His dark hair with the blond streaks fell over his brow. There were shadows under his hooded eyes, but he did not seem tired. He smiled at those gathered in the living room. No one smiled back. They were worn out and worn down.

Robert had stopped crying and fretting, but he was unable to hold himself upright any longer. He was a pile of a man made of donuts of flesh and a sad mask of a face. Teresa seemed to have gone deaf, dumb and blind. Melody served Pea, who ate her bacon and ham, she looked in on Hannah, but mostly she sat in the chair in the corner, mending and darning and watching the stairway for Duncan. Foster did not teach, Peter did not learn, Peter's parents did not fix things, and Glenn did not chop wood. He simply sat and stoked his fires and added the wood that was already cut. Of all of them, it was Glenn who seemed most content.

"I know how hard these last hours have been," Duncan said when they were all settled. "But I want you to know that the upheaval is over. In our midst was a devil–”

Teresa snorted. She put her chin in her palm and looked away from Duncan. Eyes darted her way, back to Duncan, and back to Teresa again. Only Melody looked at Duncan and he met her gaze head on. Hours ago he thought Melody was challenging him, now he realized she was showing the way. He needed to regroup and find his strength and faith as she had. He nodded to her; she nodded back.

"There was a devil," Duncan reiterated. "His name was Billy Zuni. His presence tested us and we prevailed. He is gone."

"Where did he–" Foster stuttered and everyone looked his way. "Where didd–" and once again. "–go."

"He went on, Foster. He went back to the faithless world."

"He left Hannah?" Robert piped up. "I deduced he liked Hannah."

"Yes, Duncan, tell us why he left Hannah?" Teresa mocked him without doing him the courtesy of looking his way.

"He left because he was not recognized. God only spoke of Hannah, not Billy."

"Then why didn't he leave right away?" Glenn asked.

"Because he thought he had his hooves on Hannah's neck. When Robert found them the evil came with the good."

"I let out the devil?" Robert scrunched up his eyes and the tears came again.

"But you also let out an angel, Robert," Duncan assured him. "That is why Hannah remains, and that is why Billy has gone. Our faith was too much for him." Duncan clapped his hands and grinned. "Everything is now in order. We are blessed in God's eyes. Pea has spoken and I have read the passages. And I do not need to interpret them, my friends. The message from heaven is clear. Clasp your hands. Open your hearts. I share God's word."

Everyone sat up a little straighter. Someone murmured something. Melody's withered hand jerked and she covered it with her good one. Even Teresa looked at him. He raised his chin. He looked down on her.

"Mark 1:15. The time has come. Repent and believe the good news." Duncan's Goldilocks voice hung over each of them as if he had laid hands upon their heads. "Believe the good news."

We believe

I believe

Good news

Duncan's eyes closed and he swayed to the music of their affirmations. There were tears in his eyes, warm and happy tears.

"Matthew 10:8." Duncan raised his face to a heaven that was somewhere above the roof over his head and the dark sky above that. "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse those who have leprosy, drive out the demons."

The collective breath went out of the men; there was a sweet gasp from Melody. He opened his eyes – his hooded, private, topaz eyes – and lowered his chin and whispered.

"Luke 13:32. I will keep on driving out demons and healing people. Today–”

His voice became stronger.

"And tomorrow."

And stronger still.

"And on the third day I will reach my goal."

His eyes met Melody's and his words seemed only for her.

"This is from God to Pea. This is from Pea to me. This is from me to you. The healing is upon us. The healing will begin today, and by the third day you will all be risen, perfect in God's love, whole in his heavenly grace."

Duncan raised his arms. The fire crackled. The congregation wept quietly and called loudly to God. They touched themselves: a withered arm, a fingerless hand, a leather upholstered face, broken vocal cords and legs that did not grow tall enough. Teresa, hunched in her chair, watched their ecstasy but all she felt was pain and disappointment. She looked at her son and tried to remember the little boy, so unsure of himself, safe only with his sister who spoke to God. She remembered the day she made her decision to release them from their pain and suffering. She had felt much like Duncan: blessed and invincible and so righteous. And when she woke, none of them were dead or in heaven. That was the saddest day of her life. Duncan would fare no better than she.

Teresa looked out the window again, unable to stomach the ridiculous devotion he inspired. Slowly, she sat forward, hardly believing what she was seeing. Duncan's best-laid plans were about to change. She swung her head back. As the congregation gathered around her holy son, Teresa said:

"We have visitors."

***

Billy stood in the living room. He held the white handle knife that Cecilia had brought to Oki; the one that was sharp enough to cut his hair and shave his head. He looked frightening with his white scalp and his cuts and bruises and his bandaged hand. He looked more frightening because he wore no shirt and there were bruises upon his body, too.

Mama Cecilia got up and stood beside Oki. She blinked at the son-of-some-another-mother. He looked back at them as if he didn't quite know where he was. His eyes were filled with hurt, and determination, and courage, and cunning, and knowledge of the underworld. But that was to be expected since he had worn Cecilia's
amaut
and slept under it. Surely the spirits of the fox, and wolf, and the seal had shared themselves with him. The hurt, though, was his. No spirit had given him that; only people could give that.

"What are you doing?" Oki asked.

Billy walked past them and picked up the fur coat from the couch and held it out to Mama Cecilia.