The Last Sin Eater

  He blinked. “What for?”

  “To see if ye was all right, that’s what for!”

  His expression darkened. “Why wouldn’t I be? You was the one attacked. Not me.”

  What could I say to that without blurting out it was his own father who’d done it?

  “By the devil himself, I heard,” Miz Elda said. I blushed, avoiding Fagan’s steady, if somewhat bemused, gaze. The old woman sat staring at me. “Got nothing to say about it?”

  “What’s to say?”

  “Tight-lipped. Now, there’s a change.”

  I sat glumly on the bottom step and kept my back to her. Her chair creaked as she began rocking again. “No flowers today, Fagan. She must be carrying a grudge agin’ me for something.”

  I glanced up at her, annoyed. “What reason would I have?”

  “No reason. But then, most folks don’t need reasons for holding grudges, leastwise not up in these mountains.” She rocked some more. “Since that ain’t what’s bothering her, Fagan, I reckon she must’ve thought I was dead and buried.”

  “I did not!” I turned to stare up at her, appalled at the suggestion.

  “I don’t see no flowers.”

  I turned away again.

  “Well?” she said after a long pause.

  Tired and frustrated, I got up and marched off. I half expected Fagan to catch up with me, but he stayed put. The old woman was growingmore cantankerous every time I saw her. Returning with a bouquet of mountain daisies, I held them out to her.

  “What am I going to do with ’em out here? Put ’em in some water.”

  When I went inside, I saw the flowers I had brought her last time still in the mason jar. The stalks were wilted, the petals dry and scattered upon her table. I thought of Mama tearing up the flowers I brought her, and here was Miz Elda keeping ’em until they was long dead and should be thrown out.

  “Fresh water!” Miz Elda called from outside.

  All the hurt and frustration seeped out of me. I made the trek to the creek, scrubbed out the slimy mason jar, filled it with fresh water, and carried it back. Smiling, I arranged the daisies, swept the dead, dried petals into my hand, and went back outside. I sat on the top step this time, just opposite Fagan, and leaned back, making myself more comfortable. I felt more at home on Miz Elda’s porch than with Papa and Mama and Iwan.

  Miz Elda fixed her rheumy, blue eyes on me. “Now, what happened to ye, child? And tell us the truth.”

  I pinched pleats in my dress and avoided her gaze. “I don’t rightly remember.”

  “Ye remember all right. Ye just ain’t willing to say.” I looked at Fagan and then away.

  Miz Elda caught that look, and her eyes narrowed. “Where was ye coming from when it happened?”

  “I’d just been down by the river, where the man of God’s camped.”

  Fagan’s head came up, his quiet gaze more intense. “Thought ye was scared of him and never going back.”

  “I dreamed he’d been killed.”

  “And?” Miz Elda said. She stopped rocking.

  “He ain’t dead,” Fagan said.

  “I was asking Cadi.”

  “He’s hale and hearty,” I told her. “He was lying on the ground on his face when I come up on the other side of the river, but he got up fast enow and started in talkin’ to me.”

  Fagan leaned forward. “He saw you?”

  “No, but he heard me.”

  “What’d he say to ye, chile?”

  “Nothing I could understand, Miz Elda. He kept telling me to cross the Jordan, wherever that is.”

  “The Jordan,” she repeated, leaning her head back. “The Jordan. Where have I heard that before?” She made a sound of disgust. “There are times when things tickle my mind, and I can’t scratch ’em out.”

  Fagan frowned. “What kind of things?”

  “Things just out of reach. Things my mother said to me when I was but a wee chile. I can half remember ’em sometimes when I’m dozing, and then they just slip away like flour through a sifter. Frustratin’ as all get-out. It’s like having a buzzing gnat in your ear. I can’t swat ’em dead without deafening myself in the process. Ain’t even sure why they’re comin’ on me now, after all these years and me so near the grave. You’d think an ol’ woman like me’d earned some peace in her old age.” She sighed heavy. “Sure do wish I could hear that man down there.”

  She rocked again and looked at Fagan. “It’d give me pure pleasure to have him come up for a cup of elderberry wine.”

  “Don’t look at me! I ain’t askin’ him. Pa’s warned everyone to stay clear of him.”

  “Oh, your pa. Ain’t stopped you before.”

  Fagan turned his head and glared at me.

  “Don’t go looking at me, Fagan Kai. I dinna tell her.”

  “No one had to tell me. Plain as the nose on his face.”

  “What is?” Fagan said belligerently, testing her.

  “Ye telling me I’m wrong?”

  Pressing his lips together, he didn’t say anything.

  “You and Cadi got a lot in common.”

  “We ain’t got nothing in common,” he said, annoyed with both of us.

  She cackled, enjoying his discomfort. “Well, you’re both listening to voices other than your ma and pa’s.”

  “What voices you talking about?”

  “Well, now, if I knew that, I’d be a whole lot wiser than I am, now wouldn’t I? But I’ll hazard a guess. Cadi’s been listening to her heart, and you’ve been listening to your head, and neither one of you are getting anywhere that I can see.”

  Fagan gave me a look to say she was just an old woman who was rambling on, but sometimes I wondered if there weren’t more to Miz Elda’s words than what she said. Sometimes I had the feeling she was testing us both. Or prodding. Hadn’t she been the one to point the way to Dead Man’s Mountain? Not that it had done me much good.

  Now she was pointing toward that man by the river.

  “Ever thought of asking your pa why he’s so dead set against him?” she said to Fagan.

  I jumped to Fagan’s defense. “Why would he want to do that when asking about the sin eater got him knocked clean off the porch?” By his glance, I could tell he did not appreciate my help.

  “Pa said he dinna want anyone going near the man,” he said, looking away. “That was the end of it.”

  Miz Elda gave a snort. “That’s enow to start things off.”

  Fagan threw his straw away. “Why do ye hate him so much?”

  “Hate’s a mighty strong word. I don’t hate him, boy. It’s just that he takes too much on himself. Always did. Ye canna think for people. They gotta think for themselves.”

  There was more to Brogan Kai than wanting to think for people, but I didn’t want to talk about the look in his eyes or his hand squeezing off the air to my lungs and blood to my head.

  Miz Elda sighed. “Sure do wish I could hear that man. I ain’t for this world for much longer, and it sure would be nice to know what the Lord has to say afore I have to go and meet him face-to-face.” She looked between the two of us. “If one of ye was brave enow, ye could extend the man an invitation to visit a poor, sick, old woman with one foot in the grave and the other on shaky ground.”

  “Don’t say that, Miz Elda! Why do ye have to talk about dying all the time?”

  “Why wouldn’t I talk about it? I’m old and it’s the way of all flesh. No getting around it.”

  “Sometimes ye sound like you’re in an all-fire hurry!”

  “Well, there’s nothing holding me here. My family’s all gone over the mountain, and my friends is all dead.”

  “What about us?” I fought back tears.

  “You’ve got each other.”

  “You shudna talk about death so much, Miz Elda. It upsets Cadi, and she just lost her granny not a month ago.”

  “See what I mean?” she said with a faint smile, looking between us. Then she grew serious. “Fine and dandy. We won’t talk a
bout me dying anymore. We’ll just sit and listen to Fagan tell us what that man’s been saying while he’s been hiding in the tall grass and bushes.”

  Fagan blushed. “I don’t always hear everything he says ’cause of the river.”

  “Just tell us what ye have heard.”

  He let out his breath and scratched his head. “First time I heard him, he said the sins of the father are visited on the sons to the fourth generation.”

  “Reckon that’s why we have ourselves a sin eater,” Miz Elda said, watching Fagan’s face. “So trouble don’t rise up to haunt us.”

  “And then he said, ‘I will proclaim thy name to my brethren, in the midst of the congregation I will sing thy praise.’”

  “Well, if that don’t beat all.”

  “Yesterday he was talking about a rock and swallows.”

  “A rock and swallows,” she said, thinking. “Maybe he meant the cliffs where the swallows build their nests, the ones near the Narrows.”

  “And he was talking about building houses on sand.”

  “That’s pure foolishness,” Miz Elda scoffed. “Anyone knows better than that. What would he say a thing like that for?”

  Fagan shrugged. “I heard him say, ‘the stone which the builders refused is become the head stone of the corner, and this is the Lord’s doing.’”

  “A rock and swallows, houses built on sand, and a rejected cornerstone,” Miz Elda said and shook her head. “Maybe your pa’s right and ye ought to leave him alone. He sounds crazy.” She started rocking again, slowly, gazing off toward the valley as she sometimes did. “You two go on now. I need to rest awhile.”

  It wasn’t rest she wanted. It was time to think on the things Fagan had told her. I wished she would tell me what was in her mind, but reckoned she was probably harkening back to a time past and trying to remember what it was she had forgotten.

  “Did the sin eater ever come for the preserves?” Fagan said as we was walking down Miz Elda’s path to the meadow.

  “Never did. The jar’s probably still sitting there.” A sudden idea came to me, and I started running.

  “Where ye going?”

  “To the graveyard!” I called back over my shoulder.

  The jar of preserves was still there. I took it up and dusted the jar off with the edge of my dress.

  “What’ve ye got in your head to do with ’em now, Cadi Forbes?” Fagan asked, panting from the run.

  “I’m going to give ’em to the bee charmer.”

  “What bee charmer?”

  “The woman who lives in the cabin at the bottom of Dead Man’s Mountain.”

  “The crazy woman?”

  I glanced at him. “Who said she was crazy?”

  “My ma. I told her I’d seen the cabin, and she said to stay far away from it. The woman living there is crazy.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Ma said she murdered her own mother and father.”

  “Miz Elda said Rose O’Sharon killed herself, and no one knows how Macleod died.”

  Fagan blinked in surprise and then his jaw set, his eyes darkening. “Just stay clear of that woman, ye hear. My ma wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “I never said she lied.”

  “Yes, ye did.”

  “Miz Elda’s older than anyone else on these mountains, and I reckon she knows more than anyone. Even your ma.”

  “Maybe ye oughta stay well away from Dead Man’sMountain, too! Chasing after the sin eater’ll get ye nothing but trouble.”

  “Ye sound just like your pa,” I said, angry now. His face reddened. As I came out the graveyard gate, he blocked my way.

  “Ye’re not going, Cadi.” When I tried to pass, he snatched the jar of preserves and hurled it against a pine, shattering the glass and splattering Mama’s blackberry preserves in all directions. “Now, what’re ye going to do?” Fagan spread his feet.

  When I threw a punch at him, he caught my arm and swung me around, pinning me back against him. I twisted and jerked, trying to kick at his shins with my heels, to no avail. “Listen to me, you stupid girl! I did it for your own good!”

  “People gotta think for themselves!”

  “Ye gonna repeat everything that old woman says?”

  “Are ye gonna choke me just like your father did?”

  His hands tightened briefly in shock, and then he shoved me away from him. “What’d you say?”

  I spun around, glaring at him. “I hate you, Fagan Kai! I hate you, and I hate your father! Did ye hear that?”

  His expression fell slightly, and I knew every word struck hard and deep. “I heard you.”

  The look on his face dissolved my anger and made me cringe. Feeling guilty, I tried to defend myself. “Ye shouldn’t have broken the jar. It wasn’t yours to break!”

  “It was Pa?” he said in a small voice.

  He looked so hurt, I wanted to take the blame away. “He caught me coming back from the river. Said I was going against him.” My conscience smote me something fierce and I felt sick. My tongue had been like a fire, and I feared it had burned up our friendship. Seems like when you destroy something, you realize too late how much it meant to you in the first place. “Nobody knows, Fagan. I swear. I dinna tell my pa or anyone. And I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to die. I wouldn’t’ve told you if ye hadn’t broken the jar!”

  “What’re you crying for? It’s me who’ll burn in hell.”

  “Burn for what?” I said, sniffling and rubbing my nose.

  “For every mean thing my pa’s ever done. Just like that man says. The sins of the father’ll be laid on the sons.”

  “That ain’t fair! Ye must’ve heard wrong.”

  “I heard him right.”

  “Ye said the river—”

  “I heard him plain, I’m telling ye!” His eyes teared up, and I remembered the day he’d come back from the river crying.

  I came closer. “Then I reckon we could both use the sin eater.”

  “And what good would it do to find him?We ain’t dead yet.”

  “Maybe we could ask him to take our sins now.”

  “Why would he want to do that?”

  “I don’t know! But it’s worth asking him, ain’t it?”

  He chewed on his lip, thinking. “All right,” he said, looking grim. “Tomorrow. I’ll meet you where Kai Creek joins the river. We’re going hunting.”

  T E N

  Hiding behind a curtain of mountain laurel, Fagan and I watched the crazy woman’s cabin, waiting for some sign of her. Neither of us was brave enough to hello the house and bring her out, nor willing to admit our fear. It was early yet, and we used that ready excuse as we waited for the sunlight to spill over the valley floor and chase the shadows away. Both of us sat, getting wet with the heavy dew that dripped down from the leaves.

  “I went down to listen to the man last night,” Fagan whispered.

  “What’d he say this time?”

  “He kept calling out for us to come to him and hear the word of the Lord, and we’d have rest for our souls.”

  “We’d be resting, all right. In our graves after being struck dead.”

  “It dinna sound that way to me, but I wasn’t going to walk across that river. Pa or one of my brothers would’ve seen me. They’ve kept watch off and on.”

  “I’m afeared of the mon, too, Fagan.”

  “I ain’t afeared of him. I’m afeared what he’d do.” He raked his hair back, frowning. “I don’t reckon even Pa would do nothing to a man come from God.”

  I didn’t say anything to that, for I was troubled in my mind remembering my nightmare. Besides that, Brogan Kai had looked able to do anything the day he had me by the throat. I reckoned Brogan Kai thought he was God. In this highland valley, at least.

  A deer with her two fawns came into the open, grazing in the shadows not far from where we were hidden. Fagan sat up straighter, his attention fixed not on them but further on toward the forest. “Will ye look at that?” At the awe on his f
ace, I looked to see a huge buck standing among the trees out of the edge of light, his antlers a majestic crown for a proud head. “Never seen one so big. Wish I had a gun.”

  “How con ye say that? He’s so beautiful!”

  “He’d feed a family through winter.”

  I glared at him, thankful all he had was a slingshot.

  When the cabin door opened, the doe’s head came up sharply, and she bounded away, the fawns on her heels. The buck melted into the forest. Fagan and I both leaned forward, peering through the dangling vines and waiting for Bletsung Macleod, the crazy woman, to appear.

  She came outside in her long white nightgown, blonde hair curling down over her like a golden cascade clear past her waist. Stretching, she put the back of her hand to her mouth as she yawned. She walked along the porch and stood there at the end, gazing up at the mountain. She whistled like a bird and waited for a long moment. Then she whistled again, waiting once more.

  “There it is,” Fagan said. “Did ye hear it?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, for a whistle had come from the forest above.

  “It’s not like any bird I’ve ever heard before.”

  After that, Bletsung Macleod went back inside her house.

  “Why don’t you make her something, Katrina Anice?” Lily-bet said, sitting not far away.

  “Such as what?”

  “I dinna say nothing,” Fagan said, glancing back at me.

  “It was Lilybet.”

  “Don’t start acting crazy on me!”

  “I’m not acting crazy!” Hurt, I got up.

  “Where ye going?”

  “Down to the creek to find some flowers.”

  “Flowers? Now?”

  “To make a garland for her, Fagan. She might take more kindly to us coming to her place if we have summat for her. And since ye took it into your head to break the jar of preserves . . .”

  “Go on then and get the flowers. I’ll keep watch.”

  I picked my way through vines and briars and reached the water. “Why can’t he see you?” I said to Lilybet. I was tired of her mysterious answers.

  “You know why.”

  “Because ye don’t exist. Because you’re in my head.”