Seed (21 page)

We watch Papa S. He is rubbing his arms, nodding his head. “Nature has told me,” he suddenly says, “that our eyes have become greedy. Our mouths too. We have neglected our hands, the gift of touch.” We listen, waiting. “Now we shall go back to our house. Nature has ordered me to take your eyes from you.”

There is a sharp breath from Bobby. But Papa S. laughs.

“Your eyes are a gift from her,” he says, smiling. “I will not take them forever. I have been told to simply cover them. For one whole day, you will see with your hands.”

That is all he says, it is all he needs to say. His words make me uneasy, but when I look at Papa S.’s warm face, I know I must trust him. We follow him from the clearing, through the watching trees, back toward Seed.

I wait outside Papa S.’s room. Jack goes before me and when he comes out, his eyes are covered by a blindfold, his steps timid, his arms stammering.

“Are you there, Pearl?” he asks. I tap him on the shoulder without a word. “Pearl?” I tap his other shoulder. He spins around. “Who is it?” he asks.

“It’s me.” I laugh.

“Where are you?” He’s smiling.

“Here,” I say.

“It’s your turn now. I’ll wait for you,” he says.

I don’t hesitate. I push open the door and Papa S. is standing there, smiling at me. Across his hands lies a strip of black cloth.

“Come closer, Pearl,” he says. And I go to him. “Turn around,” he says. And I do. I am looking at his closed door when I hear him step up to me. He is rarely this close to me. His arm brushes my shoulder and then the blindfold is over my eyes and I can see nothing.

At once, I hear more. His gentle breathing. The ticking of a clock. The sound of the material slipping against itself as Papa S. ties it into a knot. Then he places his hands over my eyes, over the blindfold. I can feel his skin, his very being, through the tiny strip of black and I feel a strength I have never known. If it was not forbidden, I think I might cry.

Then Papa S. steps away from me. His hands have left me and I feel suddenly cold.

“You are done,” he says, his voice behind me. His hand is on my elbow as he leads me to the door. There is the sound of it opening and as I leave Papa S., the door closes behind me.

“Jack?” I ask.

“I’m here,” he says, somewhere beside me. I reach out and he must too, because his hand is there and now he holds mine.

Papa S. is right. I notice so much more. The smallest noises.
The gentleness of my skirt, the rough surface of the dining table. The breeze on my face. I listen more when people speak. I want to hear every word they say.

And everything is more difficult in this bubble of black. Even walking, we knock into each other. We’re clumsy as we fill the plates with food. I feel the knife near my fingers as I slice the bread.

Ruby spends much of the day clinging to me, scared that she will be lost on her own. I wish that she could enjoy it as I do. Because somehow, it makes me feel even more alive. But she is too young and so I hold her hand as we walk toward the sweet-corn field, where we will work this afternoon.

“Where is Bobby?” she asks.

“He will be near us somewhere.”

“Bobby?” Ruby calls, but no one replies.

Slowly, we make our way. My fingers feel nothing, until they hit the bramble hedge. We follow it until we walk steadily through the hole, my arm pulled forward in the air.

I hear the sound of the corn rustling before I feel them. Touch the height of the plants with my hands, feel their thick leaves, the ears ready for picking. There are rows and rows of them.

“Can I give you the basket now?” Ruby asks. I reach out until I feel the roughness of its weave.

It will be difficult to tell if the corn is ripe with blindfolds on. I won’t be able to squeeze the liquid out of the kernels and check for its milky color. I’ll just have to guess and hope that I’m not wrong.

“Ruby!” We hear Bobby call. Ruby giggles and I hear her walking away, her body brushing the leaves as she pushes through the stalks toward his voice. Then nothing. I stop, listen, but now it is only the corn knocking in the breeze. I reach up to try to pick one.

My hands hit something. Someone.

“Ruby?” I ask. I go to feel her face, but a hand holds my wrist back gently. I know it’s not her. This person is too tall. The breathing too low.

“Ellis?” I whisper. I feel his fingers sliding through my hair. “Is that you?”

The fingers are on my face. On my neck. The hand sweeps over my chest, to my waist. It feels wrong. I want to take off my blindfold, but I daren’t.

“Ellis?” I ask again. The hand is on my skirt and I push it away. I hear his breathing. I reach up to feel his face. There is the coarseness of hair, of a beard. He stops my scream by pressing on my mouth. He has hold of my wrist. But I shake my head free from him.

“Ruby,” I shout and it makes him drop my arm.

I run blindly away from him. The leaves of the corn hit at me and I can’t find my way through.

“Kate!” I call, but she doesn’t answer. I’m blind as I reach out into the beating air, as I stumble through the endless plants.

“Pearl.” It’s Rachel’s voice. I follow it with my hands. She is here. I touch her face and the skin is smooth. “Did you get lost?” There is a smile in her voice.

I must not cry. There is nothing to cry about. Rachel is here and I am safe.

At the end of the day, we take off our blindfolds. Everyone else is laughing, blinking in the evening sun. I’m free of the material that bound my eyes. But that touch is still on me, his breathing is in me. I try to push the thoughts away as Jack runs up.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He laughs. “It made you think, though, didn’t it? Not being able to see.”

“Yes,” I say.

It feels like my blindfold is now pulled tight across my mouth. The truth soaks into the material and stays trapped there.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I’
m collecting eggs when I hear the scream. It’s coming from the work barn. It’s Jack, or Ellis.

Before I even reach the barn, they’re bringing Ellis out. There is blood. Everywhere, there is blood. Kindred Smith and Jack half carry, half drag him onto the driveway. Kindred John walks behind them. They’ve tried to wrap a sheet around Ellis, but I can see. His hand is not there. There is no hand, it is gone and the white sheet is soaked with red.

“Ellis!” It’s Linda. She runs from the house, still clutching a cloth from the kitchen. She kneels beside him and touches his face. He’s completely still. Ellis’s blood is on her fingers. “What happened?” No one answers. “You need to hurry.” But no one moves. “You have to take him to the hospital!” Linda is shouting at us.

“We can’t do that,” Kindred John says. I see his beard and I drown the thought it brings.

Linda pushes the sheet into Ellis. “But I can’t stop the bleeding.”

This can’t be Ellis. He is strong. But this person is not moving. His eyes are rolled back in his head.

“Do something,” Linda screams at Kindred Smith. For a second he looks stunned, but then he turns to Kindred John.

“He must go to the hospital,” he says firmly. Kindred John seems to want to speak. “We don’t have time.” And Kindred Smith pushes him out of the way. He stumbles as he begins to lift Ellis.

“You are taking him to the hospital?” I ask. I feel numb. Jack is helping Kindred Smith to put Ellis into the front seat of the van.

Linda tries to clamber into the seat next to her son.

“You have to stay here,” Kindred Smith tells her. But he has panic in his eyes.

“No!” she screams.

“I will take Ellis,” Kindred John says. And before anyone can question him, he runs around to the front seat and he is starting the engine. Kindred Smith pulls Linda away from the door. He holds her close to him, so that she cannot see as the van disappears around the side of the house. It will go down the driveway. It will go to the hospital on the Outside.

Jack is next to me. He’s covered in Ellis’s blood. There is some smudged down his cheek. I reach up and touch it. It’s still wet.

“What happened?” I ask, although my words hardly form.
Jack is looking at the house, where the van disappeared. “Jack?” I ask again. He turns to look at me and he opens his mouth, but he can’t seem to speak.

“It was an accident,” Kindred Smith says. He is stroking Linda’s hair as he leads her toward the house.

“What happened, though?” I ask. I can see Sophie running back through the fields.

“I don’t know,” Jack finally says. “Kindred John was with him.”

Sophie rushes up. She’s gasping for breath, but I know what she wants to ask. I bend down to her. There’s blood on my skirt as I take her onto my lap.

“Ellis is hurt,” I say. But I am scared as I say it. I don’t want to tell her that they’ve taken him to the hospital.

“Can I see him?” she asks. She is staring at the blood on Jack’s shirt and her bottom lip begins to tremble.

“They have taken him to make him better,” I say. Bobby comes up and he starts to cry. “Hush now,” I say. I look toward the house and I can’t see Papa S., but Bobby is crying. “Come on. I need help with the eggs in the barn.” I take Sophie’s and Bobby’s hands in mine and we walk away. Away from Ellis’s blood on the driveway.

The egg is smooth and still warm. I lift it from where it lies, curled in the straw, and put it carefully in the basket. I look through the barn door, the frame of daytime, but there is no one there. All I can see in my mind is Ellis’s blood. Red as berries.

Kindred John has taken him. He’ll look after him, won’t he? The sound of the corn knocking is loud in my mind.

Sophie stayed by my side for a while, but now she and Bobby run in and out of the straw, hunting for golden gifts from the chickens. If I was a child, I too could cut Ellis from my mind. Forget how his face was so strangely tipped back. His beautiful face. Because I know now that even someone from the Outside can be beautiful. And the thought of him in a hospital makes me feel so sick that I have to breathe and keep looking at the patch of sky.

I need to talk to Kate, but she’s still Papa S.’s Companion. Who will tell her about Ellis? I want to be the one, so that I can hold her hand and we can talk and know that the doctors won’t hurt him and he will come home soon.

I can’t be in here any longer. I have to find Jack. I watch my hands put down the basket on the dry mud floor, and I hear myself walk out of the barn and into the air so that I can breathe again.