Scarecrow (10 page)

“Pamela, there you are!”

I looked up to see Rachel coming toward me, a basket swinging from her arm. Girlie got up and trailed behind her.

“Hi. Where, are you off to?”

“Taking the men a bite to eat. Why don’t you walk with me, and I’ll tell you my idea.”

“And what’s that?”

To my surprise she reached out and took my hands. “Oh, I
know
how much you want to go home and I know Seth’ll never find time to drive you to a phone…”

My heart pounded in anticipation and I looked hopefully into her soft, smiling eyes.

“So I was thinking, Dewey’s due to come most anytime now with our supplies, and I know he’d take you anyplace you needed to go—”

“Oh, Rachel, really?” I grabbed her shoulders in relieved joy and she laughed.

“Does that make you happy?”

“Oh, yes.
Yes.
Very happy.”

“Good, then.” She nodded, more to herself than to me. “Good.”

I followed her companionably, chatting as we crossed the pasture and trekked the ten-minute walk to the cornfield. As we neared the area where Seth and Micah were working, I could smell the acrid warning of fire. And then I saw the burned wasteland, spread like a grave before me.

A jet of flame roared up unexpectedly. Seth leaned forward, resting his weight on his hoe, surveying the inferno, the charred patterns of stubble and ashes already heaped between the trampled furrows of earth. I coughed as an errant breeze fanned me with thick, black smoke, and instinctively reached out for Girlie, who had flung up one skinny arm to shield her eyes. To my surprise the child had a strangely woeful expression, her round saucer-eyes pitifully sad, her pale little face streaked with grime and sweat. I couldn’t tell if she’d been crying from the smoke or from something else. I saw Micah watching her, but he deliberately avoided looking at me. I pulled Girlie against me, gently stroking her matted hair.

“There, now, it’ll only burn for a little bit,” I assured her, thinking yes, yes, the child’s eyes were watering and hurting from the smoke—but as Girlie clutched my hand and pointed, I felt my own heart chill within me.

Seth had picked up Girlie’s scarecrow. As we watched him in a kind of slow-motion horror, he snapped it in two over his knee, the fragile limbs popping apart, the clothes going limp as he wadded them all into a careless bundle.

Rachel stood quietly by, a detached smile on her face.

I felt a tremor go through Girlie’s body, heard a whimper that seemed to hang forever in the crackling air. And then slowly, slowly, Seth picked up the lifeless scarecrow head—
the eyes like mine! the hair like mine!
—and even as I felt Girlie shivering, even as my own body began to tremble in a violent kind of fascination, even as we stood there helplessly, foolishly mourning the death of this scarecrow, the head pitched forward, shrinking, splitting, shriveling black before our eyes, staring at us in silent, burning agony.

I
COULDN’T GET
it out of my mind.

Leaning against the door frame I wiped absently at a chipped plate with my dish towel, scarcely hearing Rachel’s laughter in the background, the funny little dance of Girlie’s feet as she sang a high-pitched song. For all her earlier sorrow, Girlie seemed perfectly all right now, but I couldn’t get the grisly picture out of my mind: Seth snapping the scarecrow into pieces…Seth tossing that head into the flames…and all the while Seth’s face totally unmoved, unfeeling.
Unfeeling!
But what
should
he have felt, I argued with myself. It was only a scarecrow, after all…
even if it did look like me…
Yet still I felt oppressed—all this talk of Seth and his ridiculous rules. There was an uneasiness in me that had been growing worse all day.

I jumped as Franny slammed a glass down on the table. She hadn’t said more than three words all through supper, and I thought she looked strained and tired. Rachel walked over and gently retrieved the glass, and as Franny threw down her towel and left the room, Rachel shook her head and sighed.

“Her and her moods. Growing pains, I reckon.”

“And nowhere to grow.” It was out before I could stop it, and Rachel looked at me curiously, nodding.

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re right.” She leaned down and kissed the top of Girlie’s head. “Time for bed pretty soon. Why don’t you go get ready?” She waited until we heard Girlie’s slow ascent up the stairs, then turned back to me. “I
do
worry about Franny, you know. Even though Seth really means well…I wonder it may not be right.”

“She feels trapped, I think.” I finished the last plate and set it down carefully with the others. “You can’t really blame her, can you?”

“No,” Rachel said slowly. “She’s always been different from me. Wanting different things. He can’t understand that.”

“It’s not like your situation, Rachel. You and Seth already had each other.”

“I never wanted as much as her. Never dreamed of leaving. Mercy, I’d die away from here.” Her hand went up, cradling her scar.

“But shouldn’t Franny have a choice?” I asked earnestly. “Shouldn’t she be able to decide for herself what she wants to be? And Micah, too? And someday Girlie?”

Rachel looked troubled. “Girlie’s not like other people. And Micah…”

I leaned forward expectantly.
What about Micah?
I’d hardly seen him since I’d been here, never heard him, was scarcely even aware he was part of the household. And why had he acted so afraid of me—and then acted so afraid
for
me?

Rachel’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I can’t talk about Micah.”

“Why not?”

She glanced at me; for one split second her eyes seemed to be pleading with me, but just as quickly the emotion was gone.

“Micah could never survive in your world.”

“But…is that fair? Shouldn’t he have the chance to see for himself?” I spread my hands in appeal, noting the nervous look she cast about the room. As if we were being overheard. As if we were being watched. It was making me nervous, too, and I jumped as she scraped a chair across the floor.

“You’d best forget about Micah,” Rachel motioned me to sit down, then leaned low over the table, her voice a whisper. “It’s really Franny I’m worried about. I’ve known for a long time, really. Sensed it, I reckon, but you’ve noticed it, too, haven’t you? That she’s not happy? And if
you
know that, then it
must
be true, ’cause—”

The shadow fell out of nowhere, slicing between us across the table so that we both gasped, fear and guilt written all over our faces.

“If Franny’s unhappy, it’s cause
she’s
here.” Seth’s voice was low, but sounded almost vicious to me. In the shadowy lamplight he seemed to stretch, to touch the ceiling.

“No, Seth, it’s not her fault, she hasn’t done anything.” Rachel’s hands trembled, but her voice was reasonable and soothing.

Seth lifted his head and glared back at her. “Franny was satisfied with things the way they were. Now she’s got all these crazy ideas in her head.” The look he turned on me was icy. “That’s what happens when strangers come. I told you it would happen, and I was right.” His eyes brushed over his wife with deadly calm. “I’m always right, Rachel. You know that.”

He turned on his heel and strode from the room. For several moments neither of us spoke—just sat there as we were, staring at the empty doorway. As I felt my breath return, little by little, I realized I’d been gripping the chair so hard that it was imprinted on my palm.

“Well,” I sighed, not knowing what else to say. What I really wanted to do was draw Rachel out again—about Franny, about Micah, about Seth—but sad composure had returned to her face, and she busied herself filling the kettle, stirring the coals in the stove, hanging the dish towels to dry. “I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I’m always causing problems.”

“No,” Rachel faced me with that sweet, resigned smile, one hand trailing absently over her cheek. “No, you didn’t. He’s private, is all. He doesn’t mean anything.”

For the hundredth time I tried to reconcile the two of them in my mind—Rachel and Seth—her simplicity and his brutality. Still I couldn’t see it; still it didn’t make sense. The only thing that managed to come from the unlikely picture was a sense of emptiness and sorrow.

“What?” I realized Rachel had spoken, and I focused in again guiltily. “I’m sorry…”

“Your bath,” Rachel smiled. “Didn’t you say this morning that you wanted a wash-off?”

“Why, yes.” I was pleased that she’d remembered; during the strange course of the day I’d completely forgotten about it. Now I looked dubiously around the darkened room. “On the
porch,
did you say?”

“It’s too cold out there now.” Rachel laughed. “Let’s move the tub in here next to the stove.”

“Here?” Between the downstairs hall and the back door, there wasn’t a bit of privacy. “Well…I wouldn’t want to get your floor all wet and—”

“That’s why the good Lord made mops. You’ll have privacy here. Nobody’ll bother you.”

I looked around at the windows, the darkness and woods beyond, and I couldn’t suppress a shiver. Rachel went out onto the porch and stood there, hands on hips, finally turning to me with a baffled frown.

“That’s funny.”

“What is?”

“The tub. It’s always right here.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to have a—”

“No, don’t be silly. I just can’t figure where it’s gone to. Well, no matter, you can just use the one in the barn.”

“No, really, I—”

“It surely couldn’t have walked away by itself, and I can’t think for the life of me why anybody would have moved it. Seth or Micah must have needed it for something or other.”

“It’s really not important. I can do it tomorrow.”

“You’ll have the place to yourself now. The men won’t be going in and out.” Rachel bustled around the stove, and I could tell I’d already lost the battle. “It’ll be cold, but once you’re down in the water, you won’t feel a thing. And I’ll put your nightgown by the fire and bring it out to you nice and warm.”

“I’ve never taken a bath in a barn before.” My misgivings clearly showed on my face, and Rachel laughed.

“Well, now, it’s a real experience,” she teased, and taking up her shawl and a lantern, led the way out into the night.

I knew it wasn’t far to the barn, but somehow it seemed like miles. The air was thick with frost, and a full yellow moon shone down through the webwork of the trees, swathing our path with twisted shadows. Rachel pulled open the barn door, and the groan of old wood and hinges echoed and reechoed throughout the dark, dusty corners. The horses stirred; Rachel spoke to them in hushed tones, and they settled down at once. I followed close behind her past a row of stalls, pausing at the last one as she raised her lamp high.

“There—see? Like having a room all to yourself.”

Of course it was far from being a room, but at least the partitions gave it some privacy, and it seemed rather snug at the back of the barn. The tub was old and small and not particularly clean, but while Rachel went off to heat water, I gave it a few good rubdowns with some old rags I found in a corner. At least, I thought wryly, it was better than nothing.

After we’d carried out the last buckets of water, Rachel nodded approvingly. “Nobody’ll bother you, so just take your time. And holler at me if you need anything.”

I had no idea where the rest of the family was, and I looked around uncomfortably. “Oh…aren’t you staying?”

“Oh dear.” Rachel was instantly concerned. “Did you want me to stay? Are you scared to be alone?”

Something in my room…something outside my window…
Shoving those thoughts firmly away, I gave a sheepish grin. “Of course not. I just…that is, I didn’t want you to feel that you
had
to stay, even though I enjoy it when we talk—”

Rachel smiled understandingly. “Oh, I like it, too. I like it so much that you came here.” She poured the last bucket of water in, stepping away from the cloud of steam that rose from the tub. “I’ve got to tuck Girlie in, and then I’ll be in the kitchen. Now you just relax and have a nice wash-up, and I’ll be back with rinse water just as soon as it’s hot.”

Have a nice wash-up.
I watched her leave, then looked down at the cramped tub, rubbing at the rash of gooseflesh on my arms.
I’m just chilled, that’s all…just chilled…

The barn seemed deathly cold. Deathly quiet.

Throwing a timid look over my shoulder, I tried to dissemble the dark shadows blotted around me, the shadows skulking along the walls, the ones slithering across the floor, distorted by the flickering glow of the kerosene lamp. Very carefully I moved it away from the wall, positioning it on the floor just outside the stall. The horses had dozed off—now I could only catch the sluggish stamp of hoofs on floorboards…a sleepy rustle of hay…a sigh…With one eye on the barn door, I tried to convince myself that I was really alone—yet I shivered uncontrollably as I unlaced my shoes, tossed the socks aside, as my jumper fell to the floor at my feet, as I pulled off my shirt and glanced again, fearfully, around the shadowy barn.
Stop scaring yourself…you’re being so paranoid…
yet I trembled even more as I stepped quickly out of my underwear and into the tub.

I caught my breath at the scalding shock. Instead of plunging at once into the water, I was forced to stand for endless minutes, testing and retesting it, hugging myself to keep from freezing, then finally, gratefully, sinking down into the blessed warmth, feeling it close over me like a safe cocoon.

Besides being narrow, the tub was also annoyingly short; I had to angle myself in awkwardly to keep the water over me, propping my feet against the end, bending my knees so I could slide farther down. Rachel had been right—now that I was in the water I scarcely felt the cold—but my whole concentration was on keeping my shoulders down out of the draft.

The barn was drafty. The lamp flickered, and as I started up in fear, the flame caught itself, brightening for an instant before settling down again. I let out a deep sigh of relief and reached over for the bar of soap Rachel had left me. It smelled of lavender, and I wondered if this was a treasured possession she was sharing. I worked the bar between my palms, coating them with lather, then began to rub the white froth over my neck, my breasts, leisurely, soothingly, around and around, closing my eyes, savoring the heady perfume that rose around me in steamy waves, saturating me with sweetness. The suds melted, dripping slowly down onto my stomach, between my thighs, and I worked them into my skin, gently, lazily, my mind floating like lavender droplets in an endless sea…
Brad…and the soft, warm raindrops of an endless summer…
a
sprig of lavender in my hair…“I’ll never leave you, Pam…never.
”…
But you lied to me…you lied!—and with you went my feelings…my will…my life…
And the soap was in my eyes burning like tears, and as I sat up a cold wind slid across the floor, scattering leaves and hay and bringing the sound of a footstep.