All That Lives (11 page)

I was quite disappointed that evening when the Thorns arrived, for they did not bring her with them. Neither did the Porters
bring their daughter Becky, and Kate Batts left her children also at home. Clara Lawson and the Randolphs stayed away, but
the Reverend and Mrs. Johnston came. Drewry, Richard, Joel and I were alone as children amongst the many adults gathered at
our house. Chloe had put away the Johnstons’ pallets and every chair of ours was arranged in a wide circle around the parlor.

The community took their seats exchanging pleasantries, but were markedly intent with the purpose for which they had gathered.
Only Kate Batts could not get properly settled. She made a show of laying her riding skirt over first one chair and then another
as if none of our fine furniture suited her. She sighed loudly, then turned abruptly to Mother.

“Have you an extra hairpin, Lucy Bell?” She raised her hands to her massive head and shook her fingers in the nest of hair
piled there. “I believe my hairdo is about to come undone.”

“Of course, come with me.” Mother led Kate back toward the bedroom, where her hairpins were kept.

“Witness how tolerant our community is in the face of the eccentric!” I heard Mrs. Thorn whispering to Mrs. Porter. “She’s
had a pin off me each time she’s called.”

“What does she do with them?” Mrs. Porter asked, at the same time raising her hand unconsciously to check if her own hair
was held in place, secure.

“Most likely she plans to save them up and sell them back to us!” Mrs. Thorn and Mrs. Porter laughed together, though I did
not understand why, since it seemed to me Old Kate could easily be guilty of inventing such a scheme.

Mr. Thorn had brought a jug of coal oil and extra lamps so though the evening darkened, our house glowed with golden light.
The Reverend took Father’s chair and put it before the hearth, for we had no fire. The night was gentle, with pleasantly cool
breezes floating through the open front window.

“I am pleased to see you here this evening, but I must warn you, the phenomenon experienced on previous evenings, should it
descend tonight, will most certainly be unlike anything you have witnessed before,” the Reverend said. “Pray, keep your faith
in the Lord at all moments. I will read from the text of John, how Jesus prays for his followers.” He opened his Bible at
its mark.

“That would be us, then, Reverend, Jesus prays for us!” Old Kate called out loudly as she and Mother returned to the room
and crossed it to sit on the bench by the doorway. I noticed Old Kate took up most of it, leaving just enough room for Mother’s
delicate form on the end.

“Yes, he does, Kate, now hear the text.” Mother spoke softly, giving Kate’s fleshy arm a warm but prohibitive squeeze, for
she wished to hear the Reverend read and I believe she was worried Kate might fill with Spirit and thus prevent the recitation.
The golden air in the room was tense with expectations.

“I know the text, Lucy,” Kate responded, not lowering her voice. “I came to see the torments. My girl says it is demons you
have here.” Mother dropped her arm and turned away and I saw a troubled frown pull on her usual calm countenance. How could
Old Kate say that? Mrs. Thorn, on the other side of Mother, responded instantly.

“What do you know you about it, Mrs. Batts? My slaves say what ails the Bells is some old hag practicing witchcraft in these
parts.”

“Helen!” Mother looked upset with both of them and pulled her woven shawl close, folding her arms across her chest, her face
terribly sad.

“And who might this old hag be? What say you?” Old Kate raised her voice to Mrs. Thorn and the Reverend turned to her, clapping
his Bible mightily to his chest, a gesture which brought the focus of the room to him.

“Have you some knowledge you wish to share with us, Mrs. Batts?”

“Ask Helen Thorn for knowledge, Reverend, as she claims to have some, but first, let us hear how Jesus prays for us.” There
was silence for a moment and Mrs. Thorn looked away, out the parlor window. The Reverend decided not to pursue the matter
and instead cleared his throat, commencing his reading.

“Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good
cheer; I have overcome the world.” I wondered, what did it mean exactly to overcome the world? Did it mean to die and go to
Heaven? All my friends and family were on earth, and I did not wish to leave them to overcome my tribulations, however horrible
they might be.

“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you.” There was a sharp drop in
the temperature of the room and a windy whistling sound descended on us. The Reverend continued quickly. “For everyone that
asketh, receiveth; and he that seeketh, findeth; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened.”

Our great front door swung open at the close of the Reverend’s sentence and gasps of shock came from the lips of the startled
crowd.

“Is it an apparition?” Mrs. Porter spoke in a frightened whisper and the rush of wind walked through the hall, billowing Old
Kate’s skirts, chilling the boys and me on the floor.

“It is only the wind.” Father crossed the room to shut and bar the wooden door but abruptly we heard smacking thuds against
the wall of the parlor, as though someone threw cobblestones against our house with force. I drew my arms around my knees
and Joel and Richard did the same. The adults rose and went to the windows. They opened the door Father had just closed.

“There’s nothing there!” Mr. Porter shouted with surprise.

“But we hear it and can feel the strike!” Mrs. Porter was not brave enough to look, but she seemed to believe there must be
someone outside, throwing the rocks.

“The stones do not always appear.” John Jr. held a lamp aloft for Mr. Thorn, who squinted out the window. We heard the sound
of wind rushing through the leaves in the forest, as if the forest stood inside the very room.

“What is this noise?” Mr. Thorn inquired.

“Look, there is no wind up in the trees, and yet, I hear it blow.” Mr. Porter was puzzled and stood beside my father at the
door.

“Pray, good people, grasp hands together now!” We stood and made a circle in the parlor, holding hands, while the blowing
winds continued, so fierce I expected any moment the walls would dissolve and we would stand in a clearing under a rage of
wind in the woods. I held tight to Joel and Richard’s fingers.

“In the name of God, reveal yourself.” The Reverend raised his hands and so did every pair about the circle. There came a
sudden silence of the wind and stones, but the next moment the bristling coldness returned to the air, and I knew it meant
to hurt me.

“No! Please!” I cried out, just before a stinging slap was laid into my cheek. I heard the noise of furniture flying apart
upstairs and general cries of fear as all our eardrums were set to vibrating. I was pulled from my place and something grabbed
my hair in fistfuls while I stumbled to the center of the parlor rug.

“The girl’s possessed of demons! God forbid!” I heard Old Kate shout above the noise.

“I’ll not have such blasphemy inside my house!” Father shouted back. “To speak of evil is to be of it!”

“Nay, to be of evil is to
not speak plainly of it
when it raises its ugly head inside your home. How long has this demon been in attendance here?” Kate demanded.

“What do you see? I see nothing but invisible tortures to my girl!” Father came to where I’d fallen to my knees and Mother
was already there, stroking my back.

“Bear up, Betsy, trust the Lord will keep you safe,” she tried to soothe me.

“Be quiet!” The Reverend silenced everyone in his loudest voice. “In the name of the good Lord, tell us, who are you? Why
are you present here?”

An unnatural silence filled the house and everyone waited, surprised to feel they might hear an unearthly answer to the Reverend’s
query. I though it promising that when he spoke directly to it, the violence did cease. I sat up and did not cry, for I was
strengthened by the numbers of people populating the room. I felt a cold shiver at the base of my spine, traveling up my neck,
causing me to shake slightly. A high-pitched whistle was heard, faint as a sharp wind at first, but as we listened the sound
grew so loud, all present were forced to cover their ears with their hands.

“If you can whistle, can you communicate with us?” the Reverend bellowed, and the whistling ceased. And as if in direct response,
we heard a loud thud against the door. “Good!” The Reverend was obviously pleased, but Father looked grim and angry. “Jack,
I believe we must try to communicate with whatever it is,” the Reverend began to explain his enthusiasm, but Father cut him
short.

“Reverend, I believe it is your responsibility to expedite its return to whence it came.” Abruptly I was slapped again without
a warning, so I reeled backward and the blow was loud enough for everyone present to hear.

“Look, it leaves a mark!” cried Mr. Thorn with concern.

“Don’t let it hurt our sister!” Richard began to sob and Mrs. Johnston hurried to comfort him and Joel too. She drew them
close to her ample chest.

“Good people, pray unto the Lord! Hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come …”

I screamed in pain from a new slap to my cheek and fell forward pressing my forehead against the rug, suffering more blows
descending on my arms and back. Mother and Father and the Reverend tried to shield me, but it was impossible. They were pushed
aside, while the invisible blows fell fast and furious along my spine.

“Good Lord, is this the Devil’s arm?” Old Kate did sound more curious than frightened.

“You would be the only individual to recognize it,” Father snapped at her over his shoulder, as all two hundred and fifty
pounds of Kate moved closer to see me flinching, beaten to the carpet.

“Darkness covers a multitude of sins.” Old Kate looked down at me as if I were a squirming creature of the dirt.

“Be quiet, Kate, or leave this house.” The Reverend spoke with severe authority, and I believe the larger audience was helping
him adjust to the ways and means of the mysterious force. “The Lord will stand by us, and by this innocent, the Lord shall
deliver us from every evil work.” The blows increased against me while the Reverend prayed, and he was quick to return to
speaking directly to the phenomenon, as if it could hear and understand.

“Cease this torment of Betsy Bell! Tell us who you are and why you are present here.” At this, the blows stopped again. I
lay prone, my knees to my chest, grateful for the woolen cushion of the carpet under my cheek. I saw the trousered legs and
skirts and petticoats of our visitors and I heard them rustling in the sudden silence. The guests spoke softly, seeming very
far away.

“What can it be?” I heard my brother Jesse ask.

“What should be done?” Martha posed the more relevant question.

“Pray, goodly assembled, let us combine our prayers. Deliver us from evil, O Lord …” The wind started up again and I heard
a general gasping for air amongst the startled persons. There was the noise of a slap and a cry of pain, but it did not issue
from me. Instead, the Reverend found himself abused.

“O Heavenly Father, deprive us not of our dear emissary.” Mother closed her eyes and raised her arms to the ceiling in a posture
of devotion.

“No, not my John!” Mrs. Johnston rushed to his side and put her hand to his cheek to soothe him but she too was slapped, whereupon
she burst into tears. The Reverend bore his attack with great stoicism, barely flinching, and in this he was a fine example.
I placed my arms above my head, expecting blows across my back, bad as a whipping, but instead the blows were laid unto my
dear community, across the backs of my brothers and the adults gathered, so I was mercifully spared the full energy of the
force. Amid the rushing wind and the furious whistling I heard the guests call out.

“Something has pinched my ear!”

“There’s a pin stabbed in my hand!”

“I have been slapped!”

I felt a disgusting sense of relief that persons other than me were suffering the physical abuse, but as soon as that thought
crossed my mind I felt hands jerking back my head.

“I will out from this cursed place!” I saw Kate Batts turn toward the hallway to fetch her coat.

“Kate, you cannot, the night is black.” Mother stood and followed her with kind concern for her welfare, ignoring the storm
of noise and blows about the room.

“I have a lantern, Lucy, and more would I trust the night animals of the forest with my fate than would I remain where evil
is at work.”

“Let her go if she is not inclined to help,” Father shouted after Mother with disregard for Kate’s welfare.

“I am inclined to return home and see what I can do to mix you up a remedy!” Old Kate shouted back across the room.

“Wait, you must not go alone,” Mr. Porter called out, rising, with Mrs. Porter clinging to his arm, suddenly anxious to accompany
Old Kate.

“Good people …” The Reverend rubbed his stricken cheek with his hand and looked after them with some dismay.

“When will this visitation take its leave of us?” Mr. Thorn looked to my father, and I saw his brow was deeply furrowed with
fearful concern.

“Be there any amongst us that knoweth how long,” the Reverend said, quoting what was apparently his favorite psalm on the
subject, as an answer to Mr. Thorn. “O God, how long shall the adversary reproach? Shall the enemy blaspheme thy name for
ever?” He offered it up as a prayer with his hands raised to the ceiling.

Mother bolted the door after Old Kate and the Porters departed and the rest of us endured the night alternating between our
prayers to God, our direct entreaties to the thing itself, and our suffering of maddeningly cruel abuse. All suffered save
Mother, who remained untouched. She ministered compresses and cups of tea and fervent prayers to everyone in torment, and
eventually, in the early hours of the morning, she was able to hand out pallets and quilts and we were again allowed a few
hours of rest before the dawn.