Authors: Lisa Heathfield
Seed (29 page)
Linda lets go of me and she runs after Elizabeth. But Papa S. puts out his arm. Papa S.
Is it your fault? All your ideas about doctors and the Outside.
I breathe. Try to swallow a hideous anger that is beginning to curdle my blood. But my love for Elizabeth is too strong. I am walking up to Papa S. I am so close that his beard brushes against me.
“This is your fault,” I shout at him. I cannot stop. “You let Elizabeth die.”
I notice nothing but his hand, holding back my arms. Then he pushes me hard and I stumble as he walks away. He doesn’t see what we do. That Kindred John is talking to the man and the woman and letting them put Elizabeth into their white van.
The flashes of blue start again. They are going. They are taking Elizabeth and her baby and we just stand and watch as they go down the driveway and disappear.
Bobby has woken. He’s standing at the top of the stairs and he walks down to me, his bare little feet hardly making a sound. Wordlessly, I sit, and Bobby curls onto my lap.
“Why have they taken Elizabeth?” he whispers to me. I cannot answer him. “What about the baby?”
“I think Nature has taken the baby,” I say.
Nature? We could have stopped it.
“Why?” he asks.
I thought I’d know, but I don’t. How can it have been the baby’s time, when it had not yet stepped a foot on the Earth?
“Because that is Nature’s plan,” I say. But my words feel hollow.
“When will she give them back?” Bobby asks.
Never. They are never coming back.
It is a physical pain I feel. My heart is cut. It hurts to breathe. We cannot be happy without Elizabeth.
I am not your mother, Pearl.
Kate comes from the kitchen. She puts her arms around Bobby and me. Her tears are wet against my cheek.
Kate and I have watched the dark outside the window change into a morning of gray light. Bobby is still sleeping on my lap. He is not my brother.
Kindred Smith walks in. His boots seem too heavy and his face no longer looks the same. He shakes his head and I know now, for definite, that the baby is with Elizabeth, will always be with Elizabeth.
“It was a boy,” Kindred Smith says, his voice low, and he looks like he wants to say more but he walks past us. We listen to him going wearily up the stairs.
A boy. I want to count his fingers, count his toes. I want to see him kick his feet. I want to hear him laugh, I want to hear him cry.
I want to see Elizabeth. To hold her hand, to hear her voice, to stand with her in the meadow, weave flowers into her hair. Anger takes root in my bones.
Kate reaches up and silently brushes away the tears on my cheek. But I don’t care who sees them.
“We have to make morning meal,” Heather says. She’s standing in front of us, her arms by her side, her hair falling uselessly
over her shoulder. Bobby opens his eyes. He looks confused, as he finds his mouth with his thumb and nestles into me again.
I realize that I am aching. I’ve not moved for hours. My bones and my muscles hurt. My neck is stiff. My arm numb from holding Bobby.
“I need some help for morning meal,” Heather says again.
“We heard you,” Kate snaps at her. Elizabeth would hate this.
“Come on, Bobby,” I say quietly to him. And I move, so that he has to sit up and peel himself away from me. “Go and wake the others. You can tidy your room before we eat.” Slowly, he stands and walks up the stairs. Already I miss his warmth.
Elizabeth’s room. Her sweat on the sheets.
I let her die.
Papa S. let her die.
The pain reaches into me and squeezes me and I have to blink and breathe, blink and breathe.
Kate gets up and reaches out her hand for me. When she hugs me, she’s crying again. “I don’t think I can do this,” she says.
“You can,” I say. But I don’t know how. “We have to.”
Then we follow where Heather went, into the kitchen, because there is nothing else we can do.
We’ve finished preparing morning meal and are sitting at the
table, silent. Jack’s head is bent forward, as though it is too heavy to hold. Ellis’s eyes are filled with fury.
Papa S. walks into the dining room, with Rachel by his side. I should be terrified that I shouted at him, but I’m not.
I look at his face, at his eyes. The mole on his cheek and the dry hair of his beard.
Is Ellis right? Are you just a normal man?
Rachel is holding a flower to her lips, but I don’t like it there. Elizabeth is gone, yet Rachel is walking in as though nothing has changed. Anger fuses in me, but it’s so mixed with grief that I find it hard to know it.
Papa S. kisses his palm and faces it to the sky outside the window. I do the same, but I can’t look there, because I want to reach up into Nature’s endless blue and rip it into little shreds. And then burn it.
Ruby sits by my side. Her thin arms rest in her lap. She’s looking at Papa S. and I know that she doesn’t understand why Elizabeth has gone.
I’m struggling to eat the porridge. It is sticking in my throat and I can’t swallow.
“It is my fault,” Linda starts as a whisper. “I knew she was ill. She died because of me.”
“Shh, now,” Kindred Smith says. “You did the right thing.” He reaches over to take her hand.
She looks up at him. “I should have got her help.”
Suddenly Papa S. slams his fist onto the table. “It is Nature’s way,” he shouts, and he stares at Linda with a look I never want to see again.
There is silence.
The air in the Eagle Room is thick with grief. We have been told that this was the way it was meant to be. But how can we live without Elizabeth, without the baby we were promised?
Jack holds my hand, but he hasn’t said a word, not one word. Papa S. comes in. He is carrying a stick wound with leaves. He steps into the middle of our circle and when he looks at us, his face is gentle, his eyes warm. But I feel cold.
“We must feel hope,” he says. “We must feel happiness. Because Elizabeth can now travel on the wind, fly to the sun. She will grow in the flowers, in the fruits, in the fields.” He smiles. “We may no longer be able to see the shape she had on earth, but you can still feel her warmth, her voice, her laughter in the trees.”
I look over at Ellis. His face holds hard as a stone. He stares at the wall, won’t look at Papa S.
“The pain we all feel is rooted in love,” says Papa S. “And we must thank Elizabeth. Thank her for all that she gave us.” Papa S. kisses his palm and raises it up. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” he says. “Thank you.”
We kiss our palms. “Thank you, Elizabeth,” we say. But it hurts. It doesn’t feel right, because I just want her here with me. “Thank you.” Louder, over and over. “Thank you,” we call. Papa S. stands in the middle of us all, both hands raised, his arms striking the air. “Thank you.”
I see a figure move. It’s Ellis standing up, walking from the circle, leaving the room.
Kate follows him.
W
e stand around the hole dug in the forest. The soil is dark. They lower the coffin, with Elizabeth and her baby, into the ground. The Kindreds and Jack hold the rope, letting it slip slowly through their fingers. Bit by bit, the coffin goes down. I don’t want to think what is in it. I cannot think of the baby curled with Elizabeth.
They throw the rope down into the hole and it thuds onto the wood. The memory of the coffin in the fire grasps at me, but I have to move it into blackness or I won’t be able to breathe.
Papa S. stands in front of us. He’s smiling as he kisses his palm and points it toward the deep, black hole. I cannot do the same, when all I want is for Elizabeth to climb out and stand with me and hold my hand.
They’re pushing the soil over the coffin. It is trickling down and locking her in.
I look toward the sky.
They fill the hole.
“Thank you,” I whisper under my breath.
I love you,
I hear her reply.
Kate and I stay, standing at the mound of earth. One by one the others have left us, but I can’t leave, not yet.
Kate touches my arm and I turn to her. Grief sits in her eyes, in her mouth. “We have to go,” she says to me.
“You can,” I reply. “I want to stay here, just a bit longer.”
“No,” she says. “We must leave Seed.”
Leave Seed?
“It’s bad here,” Kate says. She’s looking at the mound of earth that holds Elizabeth and our baby to the ground. “I want to go.”
“We’ll be all right.” I’m trying to convince myself.
Kate looks at me. “This place isn’t what you think,” she says.
Then she’s running away through the trees, back toward the house.
I look once more at the dark earth.
Everything here is based on lies. And fear.
I try to straighten my thoughts as I look at the leaves twisted into the mud. But nothing is right. We let Elizabeth die. And Kate doesn’t want to live here anymore. Is there a part of me, somewhere, that wants to run away too? Looking around me, the trees whisper their reply.
Slowly I walk away, and leave Elizabeth and her baby there.