Lake in the Clouds (66 page)

They were all waiting for Cookie to speak. She might end all of this with a nod, a word, a shrug of her shoulder; she
might open her mouth and let the truth pour out, hot and sour. She had the power now; she could take everything away that Jemima had worked so hard to get for herself.

Or maybe she would not say out loud what she knew; maybe the anger to be seen in the sea of black faces burned too hot for such a reasoned and hopeless gesture. Jemima thought fleetingly of the riots in the French Indies, blacks rising up and white blood spilled. Heads on spikes, women raped until they begged for death, children flayed raw. She saw the possibility of blood in Cookie’s face, the black eyes fixed on Dye without blinking.

Cookie was the only slave allowed to stay in the main house at night. Every evening she sharpened knives, set bread dough to rising, put oats or peas to soak before she went to sleep on her pallet in front of the hearth. The weapons available to her were many: fire, steel, the leaves of certain plants cut up fine and sprinkled like rosemary over a joint of lamb. The question was whether or not she was beyond caring about the bloodbath that would follow.

The others were touching her, but she would not be turned away. She held Dye’s gaze and things passed over her face too terrible and terrifying to name.

When she opened her mouth the sound that came out was strangely her own, calm and steady. She said, “It’s hard times when folks got no safe place to go but the other side.”

Then she held out an arm, elbow locked, and opened her fist. A shower of earth fell over the coffin that held her youngest child, her son. With one last look, first at Isaiah and then at Ambrose Dye, she turned her head to the side and spat on the ground, turned further and walked away.

The crowd parted for her and then fell in behind.

Jemima heard herself breathing fast and hard. Whatever they suspected, whatever they knew, they would not speak the words out loud, not today. She was safe, for the time being.

The rain started to fall in earnest while Hannah, Bump, and the Freemans walked away from the graveyard in the direction of the Todds’, so that conversation was impractical. Hannah was not unhappy to have the quarter hour to think. Once she had presented herself to Richard Todd she would be too busy
to do anything but answer his questions, and there was a great deal to think about.

She walked behind Curiosity, who had taken her husband’s arm in a gesture that would look to most as nothing more than the companionable ways of a couple long married. Hannah thought that it probably had as much to do with the fact that Galileo’s eyesight was so poor, but she liked to see them together regardless of the reason. Their easy familiarity and the comfort they took from one another was soothing after the things she had seen this day. She had helped lay out many a person for burial, but seldom had she seen anything as sad as Reuben or his mother, washing the boy’s ruined body with gentle hands.

At the burial Hannah had been overwhelmed by a strange but persistent image of Cookie hovering over them in the air, suspended there by the pure force of her anger, skirts fluttering in the wind while she spat a curse down on Ambrose Dye’s head.

They all held Dye responsible for Reuben’s death, even Curiosity, in spite of the fact that she had no proof, and admitted that openly. In the long hours by his bedside she had heard him speak only a few words, and those came in fever delirium at the end.
Come dance with me, Mama,
and
Hand me that fiddle,
and
God strike me blind if I don’t.

The truth was twofold. First, they would never have enough proof to accuse Dye of anything, and that made him innocent in the eyes of white law. Second, and more important, the widow’s slaves, the people who knew him best of all, could not, would not, imagine Dye innocent of anything at all.

The part of Hannah that was Kahnyen’kehàka understood that second truth better than the first one. Cookie and her sons wanted revenge, yes. Of course. But they could not have it without bringing a world of trouble down, a bloodletting that would move far beyond them to other people they cared about.

Curiosity glanced over her shoulder at Hannah and produced a small and very tired smile.

“I’ll call a meeting at the trading post tomorrow evening.” Richard Todd did not bother to look up from the sheaf of
papers on the desk before him. He was reading through Hannah’s notes from the Kine-Pox Institution office for the third time with a quill in his hand, making notes to himself and asking her questions now and then, sometimes questions he had asked already and she had answered; whether to test her memory or her ability to keep her temper, Hannah was not sure.

Richard had worked out a plan to vaccinate the whole village, and he was so well satisfied with it and himself that anything Hannah had to say was of no interest at all.

Hannah knew the people of Paradise, a cautious and distrustful lot on the whole. Many of them would no more line up to be vaccinated than they would walk up to a bear and slap it on the nose. Richard knew that too, of course, but he intended to bully them all into seeing things his way. He told Hannah about his plans not because he wanted her thoughts or suggestions, but because he thought out loud.

He would send Bump down to the trading post, the tavern, the church, and the blacksmithy to start the word moving. Any man who showed up to listen to what he had to say tomorrow night at the trading post and brought his family along would get a free tankard of ale for his troubles.

Hannah drank the last of her cold tea and put the cup down on the tray with the remnants of their dinner. The study was crowded with boxes brought back from the city, books Dr. Simon had sent as a gift to his colleague, gifts from Will and Amanda, all the supplies that Richard had ordered.

A deep basket of nuts, candied fruits, and sweetmeats from the Far East sat on top of the new edition of Thacher’s
Dispensatory;
boxes of tea and coffee and tobacco vied for space with six dozen sealed jars of raw chemicals. A scarf woven of silk and fine wool had been flung over a box of vaccination supplies. Amanda had worked the pattern of twining ivy in silk thread, but Hannah knew that Richard might well use it to pull hot plates from the furnace and never even notice what he had done if it were not put away soon.

The most expensive item he had asked for was a new lens for the precious microscope that sat on its own table by the window. Hannah had carried the lens herself for the entire length of the journey, wrapped in many layers of silk and
muslin inside a canvas bag, like the most fragile and valuable of eggs.

“Now maybe I should send you to Philadelphia to learn Dr. Rush’s treatment for yellow jack. As you did such a fine job with Dr. Simon. His letter is full of praise.”

“You needn’t sound so surprised,” Hannah said.

He cleared his throat, which she was meant to understand as an admonition. She went on anyway. “I have no interest in going to Philadelphia, or anyplace else for that matter. Don’t you want to talk about Kitty?”

Then he did look up, his head cocked to one side. “Your letters were very detailed. I have all the information I need. Or maybe you want to complain about Dr. Ehrlich to my face.”

Hannah shrugged. “No, the less said about him the better. But I would like to talk about her treatment.”

He narrowed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest to peer over the tops of his spectacles. “There is no treatment, you know that. Good food to build up her blood, restricted exercise.”

“And something to occupy her mind,” Hannah finished for him. “You haven’t said a word about the baby.”

He grunted, a low and dismissive sound but not an angry one. “She may keep the child if it amuses her.”

A flush of anger took Hannah by surprise; she had believed Richard could not shock her, and she was wrong. She said, “She is a little girl, not a puppy.”

Richard blinked at her tone, a little surprised, not entirely displeased. “She shall have what she needs,” he said, unruffled. “Short of adoption. Do we understand each other?”

“Which ‘she’ are you talking about?”

He threw up both hands in surrender. “Both of them. Both of them. I’ve had enough of this topic. What of the vaccination schedule? When will you take care of your own family?”

“This evening,” said Hannah. “I brought enough stored virus to vaccinate everyone at Lake in the Clouds, except Runs-from-Bears and Pines-Rustling, of course, as they both have natural immunity. But there’s one more issue about Kitty that we must have clear between us.”

“Oh really,” Richard said, shifting in his seat in high agitation. “And what is that?”

“It would be disastrous for her if she should …” In spite of her best intentions, Hannah found the words she had practiced so faithfully, the sentences she had gone over with Curiosity again and again, had failed her. But it didn’t matter, because Richard knew already what she was trying to say. His usual disdainful and impatient expression drained away to be replaced first by regret and finally by a combination of fear and embarrassment and simple vulnerability; things he managed to hide from the world day by day.

He said, “There is no need to fear. I will not endanger my wife’s health. I am surprised that you would suspect that I’m capable of such irrational behavior.”

Hannah exhaled. She said, “Everyone is capable of everything, at any time. Another lesson from the city, one of the less pleasant ones.”

Richard held her glance for a beat too long, and then looked away without troubling to challenge her on anything at all.

“Now you tell me if I’ve got this wrong,” said Anna McGarrity. “But it seems to me that I ain’t seen the two of you together in my trading post for more than a year.” She leaned over the counter and held out doughnuts to Elizabeth and Nathaniel, one in each sugary hand.

“Why, Anna,” Nathaniel said. “I’m surprised you take any note of who comes in here. Newlywed as you are, and all. And you still blush like a bride too.”

Anna looked pointedly at Nathaniel’s free hand, which was planted firmly on the small of Elizabeth’s back. “Some folks never do stop acting like newlyweds, looks like to me. For my part, I thank the good Lord for a man who knows what to do with his hands. Ain’t that so, Elizabeth?”

It was true that Elizabeth liked Nathaniel’s habit of touching her, just as it was true that Anna’s willingness to talk of such things made her uncomfortable. She bit into the doughnut to save herself the trouble of an answer, and in response Nathaniel’s fingers curved around her waist.

“You see, Anna, you’re not the only one who can still blush,” he said, laughing.

Elizabeth swallowed and said, “Two can play at this game, Nathaniel Bonner. Just you wait.”

That made both of them laugh. Elizabeth would have walked away, but they had been propelled to the counter by the
slow tide of people filling the room, and there was nowhere else to go.

Anna said, “There’s no running off now, Elizabeth. Look at this crowd. It ain’t often we see so many folks in here at once.” She began to stack the doughnuts in neat pyramids. “Except maybe the time Charlie LeBlanc lost his wager on a shooting match and had to set still and let Old Man Cameron shave his head. Now just stay put and keep me company while I’m busy feeding these folks.”

Nathaniel caught Elizabeth’s eye and winked. In spite of all there was to worry about he was in a good mood, with an easy smile for anyone who came his way. It was having Hannah home again, Elizabeth reasoned, and word of Luke. All four children present or accounted for, all of them healthy and safe.

“Missus Bonner!” called Molly LeBlanc from across the room. “Good to see you again. Be glad to see my Willy getting back to school!”

“I’m sure she will,” Nathaniel said under his breath. “Anything to be shut of that scoundrel for a few hours.”

When Nathaniel was in such a mood the only course was to ignore him, and so Elizabeth kept her attention focused on the room. It was the first she had seen of many of her students and their families since she dismissed the school, and they greeted her so warmly that she was a little ashamed at her reluctance to come into the village.

Nathaniel was right in one thing: those who seemed happiest to see her were the parents of her most difficult students. Jock Hindle worked his way up to the counter to tell her as much.

“Seems like those boys of mine get into three times as much trouble when school is out. I still don’t understand how you get them to mind without a switch or at least a primed rifle over your arm.” He reached over to help himself to the doughnuts.

Anna smacked good-naturedly at his hand so that a cloud of sugar and cinnamon rose into the air. “Hold on now, Hindle, let me see your money before you go stuffing yourself.”

With a grimace the older man fished a few coins from the deerskin pouch tied to his belt. “Never thought so many folks would take the doctor up on his offer. A man cain’t turn around in here without getting a mouthful of his own hair.” He scowled down at the coins in his palm, stirred through them
with a thick finger, and flipped the one he wanted to Anna with a flick of his thumb.

Nathaniel said, “Oh, I don’t know. Cain’t imagine many folks passing this up.”

“I won’t complain about the business,” Anna said. “But I got to say, it don’t seem quite right, a doctor bribing folks with ale. See Mr. Gathercole over there with my Jed, I swear he’s going to bust trying to figure out how to disapprove of the drinking without saying anything that’ll get in Richard’s way.”

“Poor Mr. Gathercole,” said Elizabeth, sending Nathaniel a sidelong glance. “Doomed before he even begins.” She could not quite avoid his pinch, but she did manage to swallow the squeak that followed. Mr. Hindle had turned away, and Nathaniel took the opportunity at hand.

At her ear he said, “You and me are going to have a Mr. Gathercole talk right here in front of the whole village if you don’t stop rubbing up against me, Boots.”

“Empty promises,” she hissed back at him as she pushed Nathaniel’s hands away. To Anna she said, “I am surprised to see the widow here.”