“Brogan!” Iona screamed, tearing down the steps. “Brogan! Oh, Brogan . . .” She fell to her knees, drawing him close. Fagan came and knelt down, crying as his father wailed in agony while his mother rocked him.
“Ye fool!” Cleet said to Douglas. “Ye loaded too much pow der again! Dinna Pa tell ye a hundred times?” Douglas shoved past his brother and ran, disappearing into the woods.
Sim looked on in pity. He came forward, hunkering beside the fallen man and the woman who held him. He grasped the Kai’s wrist tightly to stop the bleeding.
The Kai’s screaming stopped as he went limp in his wife’s arms.
“He’s dead! Oh, he’s dead,” Iona said, weeping.
“No he ain’t, dear,” Sim said. “He’s just unconscious.”
“Let him die!” an angry voice shouted. “We’d be well rid of him!”
Sim raised his head and looked around solemnly. “Would ye curse a man who’s down? He ain’t no worse than any of the rest of us.”
Gervase Odara came forward. “We’ll need some clean cloths.”
Miz Elda pushed herself up from her chair. “Bring him on inside.”
Sim Gillivray, the man who’d been tricked in the lottery and cheated out of twenty-two years of his life, lifted Brogan Kai from the dirt and carried him into the cabin. And it was the old woman that Brogan had so wronged who helped her forsaken daughter and the mountain healer tend him.
People milled around, waiting for news and mumbling of what should be done. Sim came out after a long while. “He’ll make it, folks. He won’t have no use of his right hand, and he’s blind in one eye, but he’ll live.”
I gave a start when my father, Angor Forbes, came forward. “We’ve been talking among ourselves, and we figure if any man’s deserving to be cast out as a sin eater, it’s Brogan Kai himself. He done ye wrong, Sim. He ought to pay for it.”
Sim frowned, looking from my pa to the others. “Ye all agree with him?”
“Aye!”
“Ye think I was the one wronged?”
“Yes!” they called out loudly.
“We’ll abide by whatever ye want to do,” my father said.
Sim stood on the porch looking down at him. “It’s what ye’re hoping I want, ain’t it, Angor? Revenge.”
Color seeped into Pa’s face. He looked ashamed but spoke out in his own defense. “He’s held us all in fear all these years. Me as much as any man here. We’d live easier if we never had dealings with the man again.”
“Ye need not fear Brogan Kai anymore,” Sim said simply. “He’s never had power over ye but what ye’ve given him yer-selves. And I’ll tell ye this. Ye say you’ll abide by whatever I want to do? Then here it is. I forgive him. I ain’t gonna judge the man. What right have I to judge anyone? What right have any of us?”
Fagan had been standing in the doorway, tense, listening to them discussing the fate of his father. I could not take my eyes from him, for at Sim’s words his eyes caught holy fire. He came forward and stood at the railing, looking out over the men who’d wanted to make his father the sin eater.
“Judge not, lest by your own measure will ye be judged, say-eth the Lord!” he said in a loud voice.
“Amen,” Sim said quietly. He smiled. “If I’ve anything to say about it, I’m the last sin eater this valley will ever know. Ye heard God’s truth from this lad and this girl. Jesus is the way, brothers and sisters. Jesus is the truth. He is the life.”
I felt the nudging and leaned on the railing, looking out among our people. “Ye’ve all heard the truth now. Life and death are before ye. Which will ye choose?”
T W E N T Y - F O U R
Only a few folks went down to the river to be baptized that day. Sim carried Miz Elda ’cause she was too old to walk herself and said she wanted to be a witness to what was going on. Bletsung walked beside Sim, touching his arm tenderly every now and then. And my brother, Iwan, went. Cluny Byrnes broke away from her father’s hold and ran after us, him shouting after her that she was no longer welcome home and no daughter of his.
All in all, there were only seven of us that praised the Lord for what he’d done. Seven who asked him to reign in our lives. Only seven out of so many.
Even Pa turned away and went on home. It near broke my heart in two when I saw him go. I ran after him, clinging to him and pleading with him to come with us to the river and be baptized.
“I got work to do and your ma to see to. She took to her bed four days ago. She ain’t been up or et nothing since.”
I let him go then, weeping as he walked away. The sadness of it stayed with me at the river while I watched Iwan and Cluny be baptized. Even the laughter and rejoicing could not dispel the feeling inside me that things was left undone, that God wanted me to do something more. As Sim carried Miz Elda up the path once more, I followed with the others. Fagan took my hand. He knew how I was feeling.
When we reached the cabin, we found it empty, Brogan Kai having been carried home by Cleet and Cluny’s father.
Miz Elda was fit to be tied, she was so happy. She looked shriveled and ancient, but her eyes were sparkling with life like never before. She kept smiling like all her cares had been washed away. And well they had.
If we could all just let them go.
“What’s troubling ye, Cadi?” she said to me.
“Pa didn’t come.”
“He will, given time. I’m sure of it.”
“It’s Mama I’m worried about,” Iwan said. “She come home four days ago after a long walk and took to her bed. Pa and I both tried to find out what’s wrong with her, but she just turned her face to the wall. She’s just given up on living, and nothing we can say makes a difference. It’s like she don’t care anymore.”
The wind in the valley had stirred Miz Elda’s white hair so it stuck up in all directions like a porcupine. “Four days ago, ye say?” She raked some back from her forehead.
“Yes, ma’am,” Iwan said.
“She come by here four days ago asking after Cadi. I told her she’d gone to Bletsung’s place.” She looked around. “Where’s my brush? Land sakes, I can’t see for this straw. Stop laughing, Fagan. It ain’t respectful to laugh at your poor ol’ granny.”
“Here it is, ma’am,” Bletsung said, stifling a grin. “I’ll brush your hair for you.”
“Well, someone better.”
“Mama come by and seen me,” I said, remembering how she’d stood at the edge of the meadow by the mountain laurel near the creek. “She didn’t come up to the house or call out or nothing. She just stood looking at me. Then she turned her back and walked away.”
Miz Elda grew thoughtful. “Then maybe it’s you she’s mourning, child.”
“It’s Elen she loved. Not me. She’d be happy if she never had to look at me again.”
“That ain’t true, Cadi,” Iwan said, leaving Cluny to come hunker before me where I was sitting. “She loves you. I’m sure she does.”
I shook my head, the ache inside hurting worse than it ever had before. Why now? Oh, God, why now? This should be a time of joy, not sorrow.
“Ye ought to go and talk to her, child. Find out what’s ailing her.”
Everyone was looking at me, and I felt stripped naked and vulnerable. “I can’t!” My throat closed up like someone was choking me. I fought the tears, but they came anyway, burning hot, searing right down into my heart.
“Yes, ye can, darlin’,” Sim said. “Ye had courage enough to come looking for the sin eater, didn’t ye, when all around ye lived in fear of me? And because ye sought a Savior, ye found the one who takes sins away, Jesus Christ our Lord. He showed ye the way to salvation. Now show your mother.”
“I reckon it was your prayers brought that man of God to bring us the truth up here into the mountains, Cadi,” Fagan said.
I wondered. I had a strong feeling there had been someone else crying out to God long before I was born. Sim Gillivray.
“The Lord answers prayers,” said a familiar voice
and I glanced up. Lilybet stood in the doorway. “Let love lead ye home, Katrina Anice. All ye need will be given. Ye’ve only to ask.”
I got up and went out the door, thinking to follow her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Cadi?” Bletsung said, leaving Miz Elda. She came to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “What is it, honey?”
I was shivering violently. “I’m going home now. Only would ye all do summat for me?”
“What, darlin’?”
“Pray for me. And pray for Mama. Pray real hard.”
I ran all the way home because I knew if I walked, I’d have time to think and change my mind. I had to do it while whatever it was within me was impelling me to go home. My side ached and my lungs burned, but I didn’t stop. I came up the steps and stood in the doorway.
Papa was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand on Mama’s shoulder. When he glanced up, I saw he was crying. “Cadi’s here, Fia,” he said softly. I saw her body tense. Papa got up slowly and left her. “She won’t listen to me. She’s just plain given up.” He looked at me beseechingly and then went outside to sit on the front porch, leaving me alone with my mother.
Panting, I stood in the doorway until my breath eased. “Mama?” I said softly and came forward. She kept her back to me as I came close. “Mama, I’m sorry for what happened to Elen. I was jealous of her.”
“I know.”
“That day I said such terrible things to her. And you.”
“I remember.”
I didn’t want to say it was because I missed my mother’s love and attention. I didn’t want to make excuses for myself. “I saw her coming across the tree bridge, and I was still so mad I wished she’d fall. And when she did, I tried to see her. I wanted to undo it. I knew when she fell I didn’t hate her or you, Mama. Not deep down. But it was already too late. I didn’t push her, Mama. I swear on my life, I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t,” she said hoarsely. “I never thought you did, even for a minute.”
“Ye didn’t? I thought . . .” I didn’t want to hope.
She turned over slowly. Her face was so thin and ashen and drawn with grief. “I never blamed you for what happened to Elen, never, not once.” She touched my dress, pinching a little of the worn cotton between her fingers and rubbing it. “Is that what ye thought? It’s ever been the same in my mind since it happened.”
“What, Mama?”
“It should’ve been me,” she whispered brokenly.
A feeling swept through me, like a warm spring breeze, clearing all my misunderstanding. “Oh, Mama, why?” I said gently, though with sudden insight, I knew.
“Because I sent Elen to find ye.” Her face convulsed. “I sent her.” She gave a ragged sob. “I knew I’d done wrong when I took your doll away and gave it to her. It meant so much to ye. It was a cruel thing to do, and I sorely regretted it. Before I could put things to rights, you’d run off. Granny said you thought I favored Elen more than you, and I knew it must seem that way at times. She was little for her age, and we’d near lost her when she was a wee bairn. She was sickly and needed me more is all. Ye had spunk right from the beginning and an independence that tested me at times.”
“Granny called it my questing spirit.”
Mama smiled sadly. “Aye, she did, didn’t she?” She touched my hair. “She understood you so well, Cadi. Better than I ever did. There were so many times when I was envious of the way you could sit with her by the hour, talking, while we hardly ever had a word to say to one another.”
“Oh, Mama . . .” How I’d longed for her to sit with me and Granny and pass the time with us even for a few minutes. I thought she’d stayed away because she hated me, because she blamed me for Elen’s death.
“I never meant for ye to blame yerself, Cadi. It was my doing. I told Elen to go and find you and give your doll back. And she went. And she died.”
“Ye dinna know I’d gone to the river, Mama. Ye dinna know I went to the Narrows.”
“I should’ve been the one to find you.” Her mouth trembled. “I should’ve been the one to follow after ye. Not Elen. It should’ve been me hunting for ye so I could tell ye I was sorry for what I’d done. It’s my fault she fell down into the Narrows. It’s my fault she died, Cadi, not yours.”
“It was an accident, Mama.”
“An accident that never would’ve happened if I’d been a proper ma.” She withdrew her hand fromme, clutching the sheet over her. Her heart was breaking all over again. “I lost ye both in the river that day. Ye wudna get near me after that day, and I didna blame ye. Oh, and when ye’d look at me, I’d see that terrible grief in your eyes and know it was my fault it was there. Ye were suffering so, I thought I’d lose my mind. I’d lost both of my girls that day. Both of ye.” She closed her eyes and turned her face away.
Aching for her, I brushed my fingertips lightly over her wan cheek. “Ye dinna lose me, Mama.” I stroked her hair the way she used to stroke mine when I was small. Her muscles relaxed. Perhaps she was remembering, too. Turning her head slowly, she looked up at me again, her eyes awash with tears.
“Ye looked happy with Bletsung Macleod. There seemed to be an understanding between ye.”
“Aye, there is.”
“I know what people say about her, but they’re wrong. She’s kind and loyal. She’s lived all these years close to that terrible mountain, hoping, I guess.”
“Yes.” I laid my palm against her cool cheek. “Bletsung’s all those good things, Mama, but if you’d opened your arms to me that day ye came and stood beneath the mountain laurel, I would’ve run into them.”
She blinked, searching my face. “Ye would? Truly?”
I smiled shakily and nodded, for I couldn’t speak.
Hope flickered in her eyes, the tiniest spark of it—and fear, too. A fear I recognized only too well. She lifted one arm. It was all I needed. I leaned down to her. When I felt her arm slip around me in a firm embrace, I let out my breath. “Oh, Mama, I love you so much!”
She pulled me close then, holding me tight so that I was lying next to her on the bed. We clung to one another, weeping.
“Oh, Cadi,” she said, kissing me. “I love you, too.” I drank in the sound of her tender voice.
And then she called me the name she had when I was very small. “You’re still my wee l’il bit of heaven. . . .”
Lilybet. Little bit of heaven. They do sound some alike. And it’s raised questions over the years, though whether Lilybet was an angel or no ain’t for me to say. Fact is, I don’t rightly know what she was. I’ve thought about it from time to time, and what’s come to me is this: some things we’ll never know until we face the Lord and ask him. Granny Forbes told me that as a child, and Lilybet said it again in her own way. She was ever pointing the way to God’s high path.
I can’t tell ye rightly whether Lilybet was real or not. All I know is she was there when I needed her most. I never saw her again after the day of the new covenant. That’s what we came to call it. A new beginning, it was. I didn’t need Lilybet after that, ye see? I had the Lord.
I like to think God sent Lilybet to me and she wasn’t someone I made up in my own mind, though I had a surefire imagination. I can tell ye this, though, if God’d come himself in a burning bush the way he did with Moses, I’d’ve died of fright on the spot. No question about it. Instead, I’m thinkin’ the Lord gave me a little girl who looked like my sister, Elen, and spoke like Granny Forbes. And I’m pure thankful for his tender mercies in my regard.
Those tender mercies extended to many of us in ways too many to count. Light came into our highland valley that day so long ago, and it’s been shining bright ever since. What started with seven of us grew with each passing day. Soon more joined us at the river. Some took months, even years, to believe in the truth and make the journey to be baptized.
I’m sorry to say some never went at all.
Iona stayed by Brogan Kai, taking the blame for everything that happened, making gui
lt her mantle. The Kai stayed proud and bitter to the end of a long, miserable living, and then fell into the hands of almighty God.
Douglas was never seen again after that day. Everyone figured he headed over the mountains, wanting to get as far away from his father as possible. His brother Cleet was killed the following spring when he got between a she-bear and her cubs.
As for the others in our valley? Well, some was just too proud to believe they’d ever sinned bad enough to deserve hell. Gervase Odara was one who said so. She held to that conviction right up to her last day on this earth. She helped others hold to the same way of thinking, and no amount of talking and praying swayed or softened their hearts. I reckon they put all their faith in her medicines and their own good works. And though it made ’em feel right good during this life, it grieves me to know it didn’t do much to save ’em in the next.
Some of the folks who went down to the river later was driven there, like I was, by guilt over sin, by shame and despair. They longed for forgiveness and peace. And by God’s grace and mercy, they received it and rejoiced in it all their livelong days.
I kept up praying, from that day forward ’til now, that every last one of our folks in our highland valley would make the decision to pursue the Lord rather than serve the devil. Sadly, some never made a choice. Some thought living as they had was armor enough against Satan. So they just walked on through life, mortally wounded and never even knowing it.
But to those of us who opened our hearts, God Almighty gave us peace and joy beyond any we’d ever known. And ye know the rest of the story, for I’ve told ye young’uns the tale often enough.
We renamed Dead Man’s Mountain for the man of God who brung the word of the Lord to us. Prophet’s Peak it is to this day.
Sim Gillivray took Bletsung Macleod as his bride, and they had a fine son the following spring. Morgan Kerr Gillivray. Your father.
Fagan Kai left our valley for a time. He went down into the Carolinas and worked so that he could get some schooling. When he learned to read well enough, he came back to the mountains and brought a Bible with him. First place he come was my folks’ house to see how I’d growed up. Guess he liked what he saw, ’cause he asked me to marry him not a month after he come home to stay. The Lord blessed us with a baby girl two years later, Annabel Beathas Kai. Her name means beautiful and wise, and so your mama is.