Excerpt:
It was now January 27, 1917. The others were listening, not making a
sound, just sipping their beer at the table in the far corner of the bar.
It was their favourite spot. When the door opened the cold wind swept over
the other tables, but not this one. Besides, it was close to the fire and
old Abe Martin always kept the fire goin' strong at this time of year. Doc
had his back to the fire and the others, Jonah Winnich and Saul Shulom and
little Grubby Baker from Dundee, they were leaning heavy on the wood table,
staring at Doc, mouths open, clutching their beer.
Old Abe owned the bar and was related to the other Martins, but then
it seemed that all the Martins were somehow related. Nobody could figure
how and nobody ever asked. None of their business. But they all knew Jake
Martin and his daughters, knew that they got themselves pregnant ---
together it seemed --- then lost the babies just last week or so,
even
before they was born --- again, together. Everybody in town talked about it.
Nothin' much else to talk about. Two gals, both pregnant together, both
lose their babies, together.
Doc Manner sucked his pipe. It was dead and he peered into the bowl
then banged it against the side of the table. Jonah leaned over the table
and dropped his tobacco pouch next to Doc's beer. The good doctor filled
the pipe, slowly, and they waited impatiently for him to continue. He
slowly lit his pipe, inhaling deeply. It was a good story and he had all
the time in the world to tell it. He knew that nobody would leave the table
until he was finished, right to the end. He watched the long spiral of
smoke rise from the pipe and leaned back in his chair. The others all
leaned forward.
"Like I was sayin', the wind was somethin' fierce. I started on the
road back to town. That's when it happened."
He drew on his pipe. They all inhaled deeply. The doctor exhaled and
blew a cloud of smoke across the table. They all exhaled.
"That old beech tree, the one that hangs over the road, just this
side of Jake's farm? Well, it came down in a crash, near fell right on top
of me. Old Sally, my horse, old Sally just jumped about two yards in the
air and left me on the road. I wasn't hurt none, just a sore backside."
He rubbed his backside and they chuckled and each took a quick
swallow of beer then leaned forward again.
"When I looked, Sally was nowhere to be seen. Gone. There I was on
that road, the old wind howlin' somethin' fierce. It was five mile to town
and it was cold and I wasn't about to walk. Not at my age ... too old for
that."
He took another draw from his pipe and they all took a quick swig of
beer.
"So I walked back to the Martin's figurin' I'd maybe stay there.
Jake, he'd take me into town just as soon as the storm let up. Then I saw
him."
He leaned back, put his pipe on the table and picked up his beer. The
others waited.
"It was Arnie Brubacher. He was comin' down the road in his wagon,
bundled up good. He stopped and asked me to get in. Well, you know Arnie,
can't talk, just pointed at me and pointed at his wagon, and I got in. He
kept on goin', down the road past Jake's house. I wanted to get off and
said so, but Arnie kept pointin' at me and at the wagon then up the road.
Couldn't understand what he was tryin' to say so I just sat there figurin'
maybe I'd stay at his house until the storm let up."
Abe Martin came to the table and Doc stopped talking. Abe asked who
wanted what, the others quickly ordered more beer, Jonah paying for Doc's
beer. Then they waited for the good doctor to continue.
"Well, we got to Arnie's house and he let me off at the porch and
brought his horse round back to the barn. Right nice barn he built. Goes
straight up in front and sort of ---"
"Doc, keep goin' on the story," said Jonah and they all grunted
agreement. Doc smiled and took another drag on his pipe.
"Well, I went to the front door and bangs on it expectin' Melissa to
come, but it wasn't her. No, it wasn't. Can you 'magine who't was?"
"The kid, the daughter, whats-her-name?"
"No, wasn't Miss Cassandra."
Doc waited. They knew he expected another guess so they mentioned
names at random:
"Joshua, he come back?"
"Melly's Pa? Ma?"
"Chad, Jake's boy?"
"Nope. It was the Martin gals," Doc said with a grin.
"But you said ... you said you jest saw them gals at Jake's place.
How'd they get so soon to ---"
"That's just it," said Doc leaning over the table, his pipe poised in
his hand. "They hardly had no time to get there. And it was howlin' that
wind, somethin' fierce. Yet, there they was, standin' at the door, both of
'em, pregnant and all. They just upped and ran across the field after I
left Jake, right to Arnie's place they ran. And that's not all. Guess who
else was there, sittin' right there in the livin' room?"
There was no response. They all just leaned farther forward. Doc
smiled and puffed once or twice. "Can't guess? I'll tell you. It was Jake
and his wife, and Mrs. Kumar, and Chad and the other Martin gal, the one
who ain't pregnant."
Doc leaned forward and puffed once. He stopped talking, as though he
had finished his story.
"Well Doc? What then? What happened then? What about Arnie? Where was
Arnie?"
"Arnie? He was still out back, in the barn I guess. I walked in and
Jake looked sort of surprised. Well ... he was surprised. Didn't expect to
see me again so soon. But let me tell you the strangest thing."
Doc took another long swig of beer, coughed once and settled back.
"Cassandra. That little gal ... you won't believe this. Of course
she's not a little gal any more. She don't look more than about ten, but
I'd say she was, let's see, she was born in '95 so that makes her ...
about ---"
"Doc! What happened!"
"Why, that Miss Cassandra, she was standing on the table, naked as
the day she was born, 'cept fer stuff tangled in her hair, vines or
somethin'. And her body, covered in black --- black streaks, all over her
body. Looked like she was painted from head to toe in black streaks. Sort
of like wavy lines, all over her, head to toe. She was hummin', sort of.
Her eyes was closed and she was hummin' and the others, they all was hummin'
too, 'cept for Jake who kept lookin' at me. Even the two gals, pregnant,
they just started right in with this hummin'."
He continued, telling of how Arnie was afraid, of how the willow was
banging on the window. Doc stopping frequently to catch his breath, then
dropped his pipe and leaned heavily on the table.
"Well? What happened then?" Saul whispered. "Doc?"
"The lines on Miss Cassandra's body. They was movin'. I could swear
they was movin', just movin' back and forth, like snakes or somethin'.
Twistin' and turnin' and coilin' back and forth, up and down. And she was
starin' right at me, eyes burnin' a hole in my head, those red, fiery eyes
burnin' a hole ---"
Doc Manner leaned back and started to breath heavily.
"Doc?" asked Saul. "You okay?"
"Yeah ... okay," said the doctor. "Guess I'd better be gettin' on.
Got to visit Mrs. ... Mrs. Goodman, got a pain in her stomach. I'll just
tell her to take oil and wash it down with hot lemon. That should do it.
Then old Samuel Forcher, he's not up to snuff. Got to see him."
Doc Manner got up from the table and wandered to the door of the bar.
The others watched him go. He seemed confused. Saul jumped up. Doc had left
his pipe.
When Saul Shulom left the bar, clutching the pipe, Doc was nowhere to
be found.
January 31, 1917
The doctor was confused. He had seen it and had put it out of his
mind, the young woman, dancing, the shadows, moving, her eyes ... her fiery
eyes.
But now it was gone, done with.
Then he had told the story ... to the boys at Martin's ... and it had
all come back, rushing, crashing, filling his mind, and the voices began,
deep inside, talking, whispering, urging. He stayed home, alone, huddled
behind drawn curtains and closed doors, not eating, not sleeping, ignoring
the banging on his door from the sick who sought his help --- and still the
voices spoke to him.
It was less than a week after his visit to Martin's bar: he had
fallen to the floor, weak and shivering, the empty wine bottles by his
side, a single slim ribbon of light creeping from the tear in the curtain,
from a full moon. Suddenly the ribbon of light grew, brightened, expanded
to fill the small room with an eerie glow and he began to shake,
uncontrollably.
He pulled an empty bottle from the floor and put it to his lips,
sucking in vain. He flung it to the floor and it shattered and the light
began to vibrate and the voices to reverberate and they gave birth to a
new glow, a new luminescence, rising before him, shimmering figures ... and
the voices were now shouting, silently, screaming in his mind.
Then, suddenly, they were gone. The luminescence, the light, the
voices --- all were gone and he lay alone in the dark ... and he knew what
he must do.
Slowly, painfully, he staggered to his feet, brushed the thinning
hair from his brow, pulled at his beard, coughed, again and again, then crouched and held his stomach and slipped once more to the floor. Then the voices began, whispering, calling, urging, shouting --- and he rose again, faltered, stumbled forward, groped in the corner, insistent whispers urging him on.
He pulled the heavy rope to his shoulder, coughed, fell back ---
and the voices began to chant, a noiseless drumming in his head ... and
he obeyed.
The following week, Jonah visited Doc's house to return the pipe.
He found the good doctor dead, swinging from the ceiling, a rope
around his neck.
|
Whither
Willow
