Seed (26 page)

When Kindred John walks in, something in the air changes. He goes over to Ellis, puts his hand on his shoulder. “How are you?” he asks.

Ellis moves away. “Never better,” he replies. He’s staring hard at Kindred John.

“You helped save him,” Linda says. She goes toward Kindred John, kisses her palm, and places it on his chest. His cheeks sprinkle red, just a bit, as he puts his arms around her and she tucks her head into him, like a child. She looks safe, like nothing in the world can hurt her.

“I never want him to go near that hospital again,” Linda says.

“They saved my life,” Ellis says.

“If you hadn’t lost all that blood, I never would have allowed it,” Linda says.

“He’s back now.” Kindred John smiles at her. “That’s all that matters.”

Ellis walks out of the room. When he goes, something pulls me with him and I can’t help but follow. Out in the hallway, when I reach out to him, it’s his bandaged arm that I touch. A shiver goes through me. I try not to show it.

When he was at the hospital, I kept hoping that everyone had got it wrong. That Ellis would come back and play piano with Ruby on his lap. He’d take my hands in both of his.

The bandage is rough under my fingers.

Ellis pulls his arm away. “What work are you doing today?” he asks.

Looking in his eyes, I can see that he’s changed. Maybe they
have done something to him after all. “I’m in the orchard. With Kate and the children.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ellis says, just as Kindred John comes out of the kitchen.

“Ready for work, Ellis?” he asks. Has he been listening to us?

“I’m going to help Pearl in the orchard,” Ellis replies. I can hear the sound of plates being washed in the kitchen. The clatter of the clean dishes on the draining board.

“I’m not sure you should do that,” Kindred John says. He’s taller than Ellis and he’s standing close to him.

“I can’t work the engines with one hand,” Ellis says. And then he turns his back on Kindred John and walks away. I hold my breath. In the kitchen, someone splashes water into the sink.

Kindred John looks at me. He doesn’t move. He looks lost and I should reach out to him, but I don’t.

“Be careful,” he says to me. His words make me run out the door.

The children are already waiting by the baskets outside. Sophie and Ruby dance around Ellis, and he reaches out to touch their heads as they duck and weave away from him. Their laughter is all I can hear. Things will get better now. Autumn will bring its shorter days and we’ll all curl up and listen to the stories that the Kindreds will tell. There’s so much to look forward to.

“Right, who wants this one,” I say, holding up the smallest basket. Bobby looks up from the tiny mound of sticks he’s piling up.

“Is it an ants’ house?” I ask him.

“It’s a bonfire,” he says.

The skin was melting.

“We had a bonfire,” Sophie says to Ellis. She’s pulling on his hand, jumping from foot to foot.

The memory of it makes me feel sick. At night, the burning face keeps me awake. It creeps into my bed. The hand holds my mouth so I can’t scream.

I breathe in the fresh air. “Here,” I say, and I put the basket in Sophie’s arm to make her stop talking about the flames.

Kate comes out just as we’re walking through the meadow. She runs to catch up with us, hitching her skirt so high that you can see her bare thighs. “How did you manage to avoid the work barn?” she asks when she reaches us.

“I told Kindred John I was coming here,” Ellis replies.

Kate looks at him. “Race you, then,” she laughs. She’s running ahead with her basket in her hand. Ellis chases after her, easily overtaking her. I run too, but all I can see is the bandage on Ellis’s arm. He can’t hold the basket in that hand. He won’t be able to pick the apples with both. I want to scream into the air. I want time to go back. Back to the sunshine days by the lake,
where Ellis pushed through the water with both of his hands. Back to happiness.

There’s so much fruit in the orchard. I kiss my palm and touch the giving trunk of a tree. I feel its heart within as I close my eyes. I must remember that Seed is good. That Nature protects us. That here, we are safe, we are free.

“This one?” Ellis breaks the spell. He’s standing with Kate underneath some branches. She tucks her skirt into her underwear and begins to climb.

“Throw your basket up,” she says to him when she’s settled on a bough, her own basket hooked over a sturdy branch.

“No, I can do this,” he says. And he follows her. He is slow, awkward, his arm pressing against the bark, where his hand should grip. I want to look away. I want to help him. I do neither. When he gets to her branch, Kate laughs at him.

“You took your time,” she says. She puts her legs on either side of her branch, lies flat on her front and starts to pull herself along.

“You might have to hold me. I don’t want to fall,” she says, looking back over her shoulder at Ellis.

He reaches out his hand and puts it on her bare leg. She stops moving, stretches out her arms until her fingers are on an apple.

“Ready, Pearl?” she asks. I run underneath her, just as she unhooks the first apple and drops it from the tree. “Good catch,”
she laughs as I put it in the basket. There’s another and another. And all the time, Ellis has his hand on her leg.

We pick apples until the baskets are full, almost too heavy to carry. The children have already struggled back to the house, so we can walk slowly, just us three.

The sky is white. Maybe it will rain.

“Pearl saw someone in the bonfire,” Kate says. I look at her. She had asked why I had been screaming, and I had whispered it to her when we’d been collecting eggs. I hadn’t expected her to tell.

“What do you mean?” Ellis asks. He doesn’t laugh at me the way Kate did.

“Shapes in the flames,” she says. I move my basket from one arm to the other and stare ahead at the house as we get closer.

“What sort of shapes?” Ellis asks.

“A hand, a face,” Kate says, her voice whispering like the wind.

“I saw it, Kate,” I say, the heat rushing up my neck. “Bobby believes me. He saw it too.”

Ellis looks at me, as though he wants to say something, but he stops as Ruby comes running out of the kitchen door.

“Pearl,” she’s shouting. “Linda needs you to take cold flannels to Elizabeth.” I put the basket on the grass and run into the house.

Elizabeth’s room smells sickly sweet. She’s twisting in her bed as Linda tries to hold a cloth on her swollen arms.

“Is the baby coming?” I ask. Cold water splashes from the bowl I’m carrying and falls onto the wooden floor.

“I don’t know,” Linda replies. She looks at me and I know she’s frightened. Elizabeth’s blonde hair is spread in wet strips across the pillow. She’s grinding her teeth, rocking her head from side to side. I put the bowl on the table next to the flowers Jack picked this morning, before I squeeze a flannel and press it onto her forehead.

“I’m here, Elizabeth,” I whisper close to her.

“Pearl?” she says, but she doesn’t open her eyes.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m here.” The cold flannel on her skin seems to calm her. I hold it there.

“Help me,” Elizabeth says, her words slicing through her teeth. She opens her eyes and tries to touch me with her hand.

“What can we do?” I ask Linda as she rinses her cloth.

“This will help keep her temperature down. And we have to try to get her to eat. She needs strength to deliver the baby.”

Elizabeth moans. She’s twisting her body again, moving onto her side. Her hands grip the pillow.

I feel angry, suddenly. Because this baby is doing this to her.
I want the baby to disappear, to shrivel up to nothing. Leave Elizabeth’s skin alone, let her run, cook, and eat with us again.

Elizabeth’s swollen fingers clutch at her pillow. Her hair sweeps around her neck like white ivy. She’s whispering, over and over.

“Hurry,” she says. It’s her only word. “Hurry.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I
n this murky day, where everything seems wrong, Papa S. comes to us. He has gathered us under the afternoon sky, where we sit at the edge of the meadow in the creeping cold. I had wanted to stay with Elizabeth, but he wouldn’t allow it. She was asleep when I left her, but still I don’t like to think of her alone upstairs.

Papa S. turns and looks at all of us. One at a time. I wait for his eyes to meet mine. He has not spoken to me since my time in his chamber, and I am waiting for his anger. But he is smiling. Has he forgotten that I ran from him? That he wants to punish me? Fear makes me want to run away now, but Papa S. holds me with his invisible thread.

He will go first, as he always does. Even the children do not move. They barely breathe. Maybe they’re afraid, as I used to be.

We all watch as Papa S. picks up the knife, presses it to his skin. The blade cuts, and there is the sparkle of red on his palm. He raises his hand to Heather’s lips and she takes his blood into her. Her eyes are closed. He has chosen her. This only happens once a year and he has chosen her.

Rachel sits on the other side of Papa S. He passes her the knife and we see her skin as she pushes it into her palm. She does not flinch as the blood oozes out and she holds her hand up to Papa S.’s waiting lips.

Bobby takes the knife. We watch as he leans it into his tiny palm. His skin doesn’t break. He presses hard again, his eyes a mixture of panic and fear.

Kindred Smith walks across the circle. He pushes the knife gently into Bobby’s palm until his blood eases out. Bobby has a proud little look on his face as he raises his hand to Sophie. She looks bewildered.

“Go on,” Linda says encouragingly. Sophie bobs her head in quickly, her lips wrinkling with disgust as she feels Bobby’s blood on her mouth.

Then Bobby passes the knife to Sophie.

“I don’t want to,” I hear her whisper.

“You have to,” Linda says. Sophie’s lip trembles. She’s going to cry in front of Papa S. Someone is moving. It’s Ellis. He’s trying to stand up, but Kate is holding him back, her hand on his bandaged arm. He stays sitting, but his fist is clenched and he glares straight ahead.

We are all watching Sophie, who still has the knife in her hand. Perhaps Papa S. will tell her that she won’t have to do it, that she’s too young, too new? But he doesn’t say a word. His
smile has disappeared and he’s staring at her. I want him to comfort her, but he doesn’t.

Linda takes the knife and holds her daughter’s little wrist. “It won’t hurt,” Linda tells her softly, but Sophie screams as the blade is pushed into her palm. Then Linda is licking her blood. “See, it is done. All over.” And Sophie becomes silent.

When it’s Ruby’s turn, Kindred John helps her. She winces, but doesn’t cry. The knife is passed to Ellis, but he passes it on.

“I shall help you,” Kindred Smith says, coming toward him.

“No. I won’t be doing it,” Ellis says, staring hard at Kindred Smith. No one else moves. Then Kate, too, passes the knife to Jack. What is she doing? We’ve done this many times. It’s something we love. Isn’t it? It binds our family, holds us to each other. I cannot look at Papa S. But I can hear the angered breathing of Kindred John beside me.