Quarrel with the Moon Page 21

  Orin spat onto the sawdust which covered the floor. "I only got one parent."

  "That's right. You never met your father."

  "I'm a bastard," Orin said evenly, then he grinned. "You knew that, Josh. What are you fishin' after?"

  "Nothing. I just wondered if you were ever curious about ... your father."

  "Why should I be? I'm here, he's not."

  "How do you know he's not here?"

  "If he were here, I'd know it," Orin replied softly. "An' I'd kill him."

  "Yeah," admitted Josh. "I guess I'd feel the same way." He looked back to the casket. "Nobody makes out a report, anything like that?"

  "Not up here."

  "Just bury them as quickly as possible?"

  "When they smell, yes. If you want to be useful, you can help me load the coffin onto the cart."

  "There's to be no wake, no service?"

  "Got to get her in the ground as quickly as possible."

  "Are you going to take her to the graveyard?"

  Orin nodded.

  "I'll come with you."

  "Don't need no help," Orin replied quickly.

  "I'll come anyway."

  ***

  A tuft of dry grass moved in front of a stained headstone. A fieldmouse, brown and sleek, emerged and scurried toward a berry bush several graves away. The snake, a copperhead, tracked the rodent's movements. Slowly it unwound its sinewy body and slid through the grass until it, too, reached the berry bush. The fieldmouse was standing on its hind legs, reaching for a low-hanging treat. The copperhead hissed and struck. The mouse squealed, but it was too late. The snake dove forward and swallowed it whole.

  Reverend. Hooper turned his head away. He should have shouted to warn the fieldmouse. The preacher railed at himself. The incident reminded him all too clearly of his impotence in other matters. As he was returning to the church, he saw two figures approaching in the distance, a horse-drawn cart between them. He ran up the front steps of the church and disappeared inside. He kept the doors open a crack and watched.

  The cart transported a casket. But there had been no funeral, no wake. Why had he not been called in? And who had died?

  As the procession neared, Reverend Hooper identified the first man - Orin Chastain. Hooper shuddered. A stormy night in November so many years ago. A young woman's agonized cries. The first birth, and then the infernal deliverance of a second child, the spawn of the devil, and praise be to God, its ultimate destruction.

  The preacher's eyes widened as the second figure walked into the sunlight. His eyes shot back to the first man and then back again. He was filled with horror. Rubbing his eyes in shock, he muttered a prayer.

  "What hath God wrought?" he whispered. "They live! Both of them live. The devil has dug his way out of the grave an' survived. Survived."

  ***

  Orin set aside his shovel. "That deep enough?" questioned Josh. The hole was no more than three feet in depth.

  "It's deep enough," replied Orin. "Now give me a hand an' we'll slip it in as easy as a finger in ...."

  The coffin fell into place with a dull thump. Orin started to shovel dirt into the hole when Josh caught his arm. "Shouldn't we say something?"

  "I got nothin' to say. If you got somethin' to say, say it."

  Josh knelt, picked up a handful of dirt, and sprinkled it on top of the casket. "Rest in peace, Jewell Runion," he whispered.

  They filled in the hole and patted the mound smooth. Then Orin erected a small wooden marker on which he had carved Jewell's name, hammering it into the ground with the flat side of the shovel. Then he looked at Josh. "Come on, we'll ride back." They climbed into the cart and sat down side by side. Orin cracked the whip over the horse and the wagon moved away, slowly disappearing in the rising dust.

  ***

  Reverend Hooper, his frightened eyes on the dissipating dust, made his way to the fresh grave. When he saw the marker he burst into tears. "Jewell, sweet Jewell. So this evil has also caused your death." He fell upon the mound of earth and embraced the grave. "God help me to stop this blasphemy!"

  ***

  Orin pulled up in front of Roma's house. He cast a sidelong glance at Josh. "Isn't this where you're wantin' to go, cousin?"

  The mocking tone of Orin's voice infuriated Josh. He drew back his fist and swung around to stare into his brother's face - his own face. Disconcerted, he unballed his fist and dusted off his pants. "I'm obliged, Orin."

  "You're a lot of things, Josh. Obliged is only one of them."

  ***

  Roma wiped her hands on her apron and went to meet Josh. "I just got back from Aunt Avvie's. I thought you'd be here." He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was an expressionless kiss, not the kind she was used to receiving. "Josh, are you all right?"

  "Yes. Yes, I am now. Orin and I just buried Jewell. I need a bath."

  "I'll put the water on."

  "It still doesn't seem right to me ... no funeral services of any kind."

  "It wouldn't do anyone any good to have to go through all that."

  Josh sat down at the table. "I know, I know. I guess I'm just a little shook up still. God! If she were going to commit suicide, why didn't she pick an easier way?"

  "Like pills or gas?"

  Josh looked at her.

  Roma shrugged. "We don't have those things here on the Ridge."

  "That's what Orin said."

  Josh watched Roma's face for a reaction. There was none. She got up and began filling pans and buckets at the indoor pump. She said at last, "What made you go to see Jewell anyhow?"

  "I just wanted to see that she was all right. She seemed to be so distraught over her friend's death. When she didn't answer I tried the door. It was unlocked. I went inside, but she wasn't there. I thought she might be working in the garden so I went out the back way." Josh frowned. "If I hadn't been thirsty, I might never had found her. I still think she deserved some kind of service."

  "Aunt Avvie said that there's a time to be born an' a time to die," Roma added. "Jewell Runion just picked the wrong time."

  "That's rather callous." Josh was quiet for a moment, then he asked, "Would you like me to stay on in the Ridge? Is that why you seduced me, Roma?"

  Roma smiled. "That's one of the reasons."

  "And what about Orin? I'm sorry. I had to ask."

  Roma sat down opposite Josh. "Orin was my first. I was thirteen when we mated. But he didn't force me. I wanted him as much as he wanted me."

  Josh winced, and the words were out of his mouth before he'd realized he'd spoken them. "And did you enjoy it?" he asked.

  "It was satisfyin' for both of us," Roma replied matter-of-factly.

  Josh couldn't hold back any longer. He stood up. "Goddamn it, Roma. You're so casual about the whole thing." She looked at him blankly. "I know Orin's your father." Roma shrugged her shoulders. He knelt in front of her and more gently said, "You don't seem to understand. That sort of thing has an ugly name attached to it. It's not right. It's not ... normal."

  Roma twisted her mouth, making it ugly. "It seemed normal enough to us," she replied sharply.

  "Roma, I don't mean to hurt you."

  She stood up. "Then don't - talk about the past." She went to check the water on the stove.

  "But don't you understand? I...." Josh caught himself. There was no point in explaining that he and Orin were twins, and that she was his niece. From all indications, the revelation wouldn't have bothered her. He decided to withhold the information a little while longer, if he ever told her at all.

  The rising steam furnished an ethereal backdrop for Roma. "The water's startin' to boil. You get undressed an' I'll fill the tub."

  Josh obeyed and, as he climbed into the tub, Roma knelt to wash him. "By the way, we finished the quilt."

  ***

  Twilight quietly drifted over the mountains and the mauve sky became feathered with rose and violet. Josh awoke with a start. The image of Jewell Runion, hanging above the well shaft, had cr
ept into his dreams. Looking around, Josh realized that he was in Roma's bed.

  Next to him the cornhusk mattress was indented with her body and the sheets smelled of sex and Je Reviens.

  "Roma?"

  "In the kitchen," she called.

  Josh threw aside the covers and rushed into the kitchen. Roma was standing next to the stove. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his nude body against her back. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered.

  "You won't lose me, Josh."

  "What are you doing?"

  "Makin' caramel apples for the fair."

  Josh clapped his hands together and laughed until tears came to his eyes. "That makes everything all right."

  "Josh, don't make fun of me. It's the only thing I can make."

  Josh swung Roma around. "With your looks and expertise in other departments," he inclined his head toward the bedroom, "you don't have to be Julia Child, too."

  "Who's Julia Child?"

  Josh began laughing again. "It doesn't matter, Roma."

  "You hungry? You want some supper?"

  "Do you have bacon and eggs?"

  Roma nodded.

  "Then let's have that. I'll fix them."

  Josh cooked while Roma continued making caramel apples. While they were eating, Roma asked, "You'll help me take the apples to the village?"

  "Do you think they'll be safe overnight?" asked Josh in mock seriousness.

  "Who'd want to steal caramel apples?" replied Roma. Then she realized that Josh was making a joke. "You can stop teasin' me."

  Roma separated the caramel apples with wax paper and carefully packed them in baskets. Then she and Josh left for the village.

  Josh was surprised by the transformation of Chestnut Ridge. The booths were finished and were stocked with homemade goods to sell. There were foodstuffs to be sold, native handicrafts as well as games of chance. As they walked, Josh asked Roma, "How many people do you expect?"

  "We'll be lucky if fifty show up. Seems like there are less an' less each year."

  "Is there any advertising?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Posters, notices, ads in newspapers. Things like that."

  She shook her head.

  "You've got to advertise if you're going to sell the product, and the product in this case is Summer's End."

  Roma looked at Josh. "Perhaps next year."

  ***

  While the fiddles cried and the banjos thrummed, the tourists and their children - eyes bright, coins ready - wandered among the booths. The turnout from the neighboring towns was surprisingly large; at least a hundred people had traveled up the mountainside to enjoy Summer's End.

  The residents of Chestnut Ridge were joyful. They were taking in more than enough money to see them through the winter months.

  Josh turned away and melted into the crowd. He tried his luck at the games of chance and bought snacks from the various food stalls. Avarilla's revelations still occupied his thoughts. She had to know who had fathered himself and Orin. Even if Sissy could not provide the answer herself, in a community as small as Chestnut Ridge, secrets were hard to keep.

  Sissy! Josh could not come to terms with having Sissy as his mother. She was a defective human being, and he had always considered himself a perfect specimen, at least physically. This made him all the more curious about the identity of his father.

  As he walked among the tourists, Josh overheard bits of their conversations. "Did you see those funny-lookin' hands?" "Get her to make change." It was just as he had suspected. Many had come out of curiosity, to see the "freaks" close up. "Do they all have eyes like that?" He was beginning to understand Avarilla's hostile feelings toward outsiders. Without realizing it, he had come to think of himself as a native of the Ridge.

  Josh found himself in front of the booth where Marinda was selling fruit pies by the slice. He watched her cajole the tourists into buying. She appeared completely unaware of their whispers and glances. When the group had moved on, Josh sauntered up to the booth and placed a quarter on the counter. "I'll have a slice of rhubarb."

  Marinda smiled sweetly. "It's the best. It's also the very last piece."

  Josh bit into the pie and without really tasting it, commented, "Mmmm, it's delicious."

  "Yes," agreed Marinda. "I'm good at pies." She looked toward the general store. "Not as good as Mrs. Balock, but still, they're right tasty."

  "Do the tourists ever stay over here in the Ridge?" Josh asked.

  Marinda shook her head. "No. They're afraid to." She seemed to enjoy this knowledge.

  "Because of the disappearances?"

  "That, an' other things."

  "What other things?"

  "We're ... different up here. People are afraid of other people who are different."

  Josh decided to take advantage of Marinda's willingness to talk. "I was curious about the preacher," he said smoothly. "Does he ever leave his church?"

  Marinda busied herself with her pies. "I don't know."

  "But you've seen him?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "I understand he's not quite right. Is he able to talk?"

  "We're not supposed to talk to him."

  "Has he always been ... strange?"

  "Ever since I can remember. You're not eatin' your pie."

  "I'll take it with me."

  When he was out of Marinda's sight, Josh chucked the remainder of the pie into a trash barrel. He visited Roma's stall. Her caramel apples were selling fast. "I ought to be able to close up early, Josh. You'll come back with me?"

  Josh grinned and replied. "I'm afraid if I come along, love, you'll not be getting to your chores. Besides, I'm enjoying myself," he added with false enthusiasm. "I'll be by later on."

  Avarilla's booth was larger and busier than the others. Josh stood behind the customers. There was a "sold" sign on the flying bird quilt. The other items were rapidly being depleted - corn-husk dolls, pickles and preserves, homemade soap and a variety of baskets. Josh figured that his grandmother had spent the entire year making these items. He admired her perseverance.

  She was charming the visitors by giving them a demonstration of how cornhusk dolls were made. She saw Josh and waved. Josh waved in return.

  Behind Avarilla's stall, Reuben was doing a brisk, if discreet, business selling his wares. He would more than make the two hundred dollars needed to get him through the months when it was too cold to manufacture liquor outdoors.

  Josh bought a pint from him and finished it off behind a tree. He was hoping that the liquor would raise his spirits, but it had just the opposite effect. He became depressed, morose. He wanted to get away from the fair and be by himself.

  Near the edge of the village Orin was using his horse and cart as a ride for the tourists' children. Josh stood in the tree's shadow. His brother was flirting outrageously with the mothers of the youngsters. Josh smiled to himself and contemplated joining Orin at his stand. That would be something to make the women take notice.

  We should have gotten together a magic act, Josh mused bitterly. One of us could be nailed in a coffin and buried. Then the other could appear behind the audience to startle and amaze all. Maybe next year. Josh was surprised at how easily that thought had joined the others. Maybe next year. Was he going to stay in the Ridge? Give up his career and New York City and ... but he almost forgot... he had already given up Cresta.

  Ten yards away a flat section which had been covered with pine boards nailed together was being used by the tourists for square dancing. Alex was doing the calling, while the three young musicians played. Josh wondered idly what had happened to the three old men. Perhaps they had retired themselves from their musical activities. A few people began to dance. Josh thought sardonically that the scene was a real slice of Americana.... unless one looked close.

  ***

  Brandishing a torch. Reverend Hooper moved through the Holiness Church of Jesus Savior. He prayed in a loud, quavering voice as he drove the serpents from their places of
sanctuary. Starting in the choir stalls and swinging the torch in a low arc, he forced the snakes through the altar rails and into the main part of the church.

  "I cast thee out! Return to the wilderness whence you came! I have set before thee an open door!"

  In the glow of the torchlight the preacher's skin looked repulsive and artificial. Lack of exercise and poor diet over the years had turned the robust man into a ruin. "An' the Lord said, 'Behold, I give you the power to tread upon serpents!'"

  The snakes, repelled by the heat, wiggled and slithered toward the open doors of the church. Some, angered, struck at the preacher. Their venom ran down his boots like spittle.

  He worked his way along the pews, one arm waving the torch, the other grabbing handfuls of snakes and flinging them into the aisle, which was now alive with writhing reptiles. His face was suffused with blood, his eyes white, the pupils cast up, as he raved his lunacies. "I shall take up serpents an' they shall not hurt me, for I am anointed!" He pulled at his hair and pitched himself from side to side, emulating the pattern of the swinging torch. "I am the weapon of the Lord!"

  ***

  When Josh returned to Roma's cabin he was silent and withdrawn.

  "You're real quiet, Josh. Is anything the matter?"

  Josh looked up from where he was sitting. He smiled at her astonishingly beautiful face. "No," he replied vaguely. "Nothing I can talk about."

  "It's that woman, isn't it?"

  "Her?" questioned Josh, but he knew who Roma meant. "Cresta? No, I wasn't thinking of her. Honestly, I wasn't."

  Roma persisted. "Do you still love her?"

  Josh gazed at Roma thoughtfully for a moment or two before answering. "I loved Cresta because she loved me. I think that can be rightly called a reaction and not true love."

  "She was beautiful."

  "So are you, but in a different way. And I might ask the same question. Do you still love Orin?"

  "Love him? I never loved him." She sighed. "But he'll want me back."

  Josh went to Roma. "I don't understand what you mean, Roma."

  "Don't you? Can't you tell by the way he looks at us? He's just waitin' for you to leave an' then he'll have me again."