"Surely he's too tiny. Mama, too new."
She laughed at me and glanced at Baby Celeste, who looked to be laughing at me as well.
"It's especially when we are as helpless as he is that evil has its way with us.Ill do what has to be done to make sure it hasn't happened and won't, but as always. Noble, you have to help me, help me and Baby Celeste. It would be horrible if we exposed her to anything terrible, if we were negligent, would it not? Well?"
"Yes. Mama."
"Finish your garden work. We have a lot to do, a lot to do."
She turned back to the baby. I watched her for a moment and then went outside.
Just as I turned toward the garden. I heard Betsy's scream of frustration come pouring out of the opened window in her room.
It was shrill and desperate, but it was caught up in the breeze and carried off to die away in the forest where no one could help her.
For a moment I felt like screaming myself, like being some sort of relay runner, accepting her cry and carrying it forward. After all. I had been crying out myself, but containing it within my own troubled heart. I was caught somewhere between wanting to ally myself with Betsy and with being loyal to Mama. I took the hoe in my hands and began to work again. Don't think, I told myself. don't think.
Work.
Perhaps that was what Betsy finally told herself as well. Later, when she emerged from her bedroom and descended the stairs, she was wearing one of the clean, conservative dresses that had been hanging in her closet. She had bathed and brushed her hair, pinning it back. She wore no makeup. Dry-eyed and pale, she looked in on her sleeping baby. Mama had placed him between two large pillows on the sofa, and he did look contented. After that. Betsy went into the kitchen and began to bring in the place settings, the silverware, and the dishes and glasses for our dinner. She worked quietly, carefully. obediently. To me she moved like someone under a spell, walking in her sleep. but Mama was pleased.
"We'll make do with what we have," she declared at dinner. "We'll take care of each other and well make your father proud yet," she told Betsy, who ate methodically.
"How can he be proud if he's dead?" she asked Mama.
Mama smiled at her, smiled at me, smiled at Baby Celeste. "The dearly departed see us. The ones we love are always with us. Death dies the moment our hearts stop. It holds us only an instant."
Betsy smirked. It was easy to see what she was thinking, but she wisely kept it to herself. All she did was glance at me with some hope that in my face she would find some sympathy and agreement. Terrified that she might. I quickly looked away. Our first dinner without Dave passed with no further comment or question. Toward the end of the meal, we heard Panther cry and Mama told Betsy to see to him.
"He probably needs a diaper change." "I know," Betsy quipped.
"Then you know to do it," Mama told her, "When you're done, see to clearing off the table."
"What about the baby?"
"Ill see to him," Mama said. "Noble, go upstairs to the turret room and find Baby Celestes crib. Set it up in Betsy's room for her. I'll bring in the bedding soon and prepare the crib."
"Yes, Mama." I said.
Betsy shook her head at me and then went to change Panther's diaper.
"How lucky you are," Mama told her later, "that we have everything your baby needs here::
"Yeah. I'm the luckiest girl in the world,- Betsy said dryly. Mama smiled. "You don't know how true that is."
Betsy's first night back was difficult for all of us, although Mama never acknowledged it. No sooner had we all gone to bed than Panther began to wail. He cried and cried. I kept expecting Mama to get up to see to him, but she kept her bedroom door shut. Finally, I rose and went to Betsy's door.
"Is something wrong?" I waited, but all I heard was the baby's crying. For a long moment. I couldn't decide whether to return to my room or open her door. The baby's wailing didn't subside. Still. Mama didn't rise and come out to see what was wrong. I heard Betsy's groan. so I slowly opened her door and peered into the room.
Mama had put candles in both her windows. The glow of light spilled over the bed. where I saw Betsy lying with her hands over her ears. I stepped in slowly.
"Betsy?"
Panther did seem to be in some agony. I drew closer and finally Betsy looked my way and removed her hands from her ears.
"What's wrong with him?"
"What's wrong? Look at the stupid crib your mother set up."
At first I saw nothing, but as I approached it, I saw the greenish yellow layer over the railings and smelled the mix of herbs, the garlic, and lilac. Each scent in and of itself was tolerable, but the
combination Mama had created was so acrid and sharp, I nearly choked on the smell myself. Mama had created her formula and then apparently painted it on the crib. I knew she believed that certain herbs had protective powers and could be used to exorcise evil.
"He can't stand the stink and neither can I!" Betsy screamed. "What did she put on there?"
I wasn't sure exactly, but beside the garlic, the stench and some of the recipes I recalled suggested some wintergreen, some toadflax, snapdragon, and tamarisk. Mama created her own formulas, always expanding and improving on what had been handed down to her, so it was truly impossible to determine it all.
However, it wasn't hard to see the baby was uncomfortable. He squirmed to avoid the odors that flowed over him. I looked back through the open doorway. Mama had still not risen and come out of her room. I couldn't stand by and watch this. The baby's face was contorted. I reached in, lifted him out, and brought him to Betsy.
"He'll quiet down if he sleeps with you," I told her.
Then I pushed the crib farther away from her bed, closer to the windows. One of the candles, as if in disapproval, flickered and went out. Throughout it all, my heart thumped and raced, pounded and knocked, with my fear of being discovered. Almost immediately. however, Panther stopped crying. His sobs ran down to a whimpering, and then in moments, probably out of exhaustion, he fell asleep.
"Thanks," Betsy said.
I said nothing. I just nodded and slipped quietly out of her room, closing the door ever so softly. Then I waited to be sure Mama hadn't seen me before I hurried back to my own room. In the morning at breakfast. Betsy let loose a torrent of complaints about the things Mama had done. Mama didn't stop her. Of course, I was terrified Betsy would mention what I had done, but she didn't, either because she didn't care to give me credit for helping her or she knew I would be in trouble. Mama didn't appear to be listening. She ate quietly and gave all her attention to Baby Celeste.
However, when Betsy finally stopped, Mama nodded, smiled, and said, "After you clean up the breakfast dishes, you can go upstairs and wash down the crib. It was only good for one night."
"What was only good? What was that stink?" Betsy screamed.
"It's not important for you to know. I doubt you would appreciate it anyway. I'm going into the village today. Would you like to visit your father's grave? I won't be heading in that direction often so you should take advantage of this opportunity."
"No," Betsy said. "What for? He can't hear me, and if he could, he'd be sorry anyway because of what I would have to say."
"Oh, he can hear you. And I'm sure he's already sorry. I'll pick up things for the baby."
"He's name is Panther. Panther. Call him by his name."
"Panther," Mama said with a smile. "You know, I'm beginning to like it."
She couldn't have said anything more annoying to Betsy than that. It was just too much for Betsy to accept that she had done anything to please Mama. and Mama seemed to know it. Betsy won't be any sort of match for her now either. I thought. She was already defeated, but she simply didn't know it or know how much. It wouldn't be long before she would understand that and then... what then?
Would she become one of us, or would she wither and die like her father?
We were all in a garden of one kind or another, I thought. Some of them were of our own ch
oosing, some were places in which we found ourselves transplanted. In the end it was always the same: dust unto dust.
Betsy looked to me, her eyes no longer full of anger, but now, perhaps because of my actions the night before, full of pleading. I could hear her crying for my help, but Mama's eyes were on me. too.
I returned to my work, and later Mama brought out Baby Celeste.
"I'm leaving now. Don't you dare do any of the work for that girl that I have assigned her. She carries her own weight around here or else."
"Yes, Mama."
"You're a good boy, Noble, and your goodness will so shine in contrast to her laziness and
wastefulness, she can do nothing else but improve herself. Remember that."
"I will."
"Good. I'll be back in a few hours at most. Watch over our precious Baby Celeste."
I always do. I wanted to say, but I just nodded. Soon after Mama left, I heard and saw Betsy emerge from the house carrying a bag of garbage. She put it in the container and looked my way. I concentrated on my work, but I could feel her eves lingering on me.
"Betsy," Baby Celeste said. I turned and saw she was approaching us.
"Why did you help me last night?" she asked-- or more like demanded. "I saw how the baby was unhappy. That's all."
"Sure. Have you met anyone since I left, since you got your driver's license and all?" I shook my head.
"You just need to be introduced to people. I can do that for you if you help me," she said as a way of beginning some sort of negotiation.
"I don't need to be introduced to anyone."
"What's wrong with you?" she screamed. She stamped her foot. "Why does this child stare at me like this?"
I glanced at Baby Celeste, who was fixed on her. "You amuse her, I guess."
"Oh. I amuse her. Don't I amuse you? Even a little?" she asked with a mix of hope and flirtation.
I kept working.
She reached out and gasped my arm to spin me around. "Well?"
"What do you want me to say?"
She smiled. "When I think of something good. I'll let you know, and then you can say it. For now, thanks again for helping me." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, close to my lips, then deliberately brushed her breasts over my arm. "Um," she said with her eyes closed. "it's been too long."
To me it felt as if the whole world had stopped. everything-- the breeze, the birds, all hearts in every living thing, were on pause.
"I'm so horny," she whispered, "I'd even consider giving you instructions. We can really help each other. Noble man."
I couldn't speak, couldn't make a sound. My throat had closed.
She laughed, then turned and walked away, pausing to look back at me flirtatiously. I hadn't moved a muscle since her kiss. Her laugh floated around me. What frightened me the most was that she had awakened my own sexuality. It stirred and stretched inside, tingling at my breasts, warming the inside of my thighs, making me feel weak. I trembled and closed my eyes.
When I opened them. I looked down and saw Baby Celeste gazing up at me. She looked angry.
She looked like Mama.
And for the first time I wondered, was she really my child or was she somehow hers?
17
Unstrapped
.
Nothing Betsy did was ever done well enough
or properly in Mama's eyes. She trailed after her, finding dust where she had supposedly just dusted or found things that should have been put away. She didn't wash dishes clean enough and she always set the table poorly. Periodically, over the next week. Mama would burst into Betsy's room and find clothes that weren't hung or put in the dresser drawers, dust on her furniture, the bed awkwardly made, and the baby's things not in good order. When she saw some makeup spilled on the vanity table, she confiscated all of Betsy's cosmetics, telling her she would return them when Betsy learned how to care for her things and not make such a mess.
At the end of the week, Mama had her polishing- the old silverware. Whenever she made her do something new, she held out the possibility of a reward, but that reward was always dangled at the end of a long pole, a pole far longer than Betsy's reach.
"Rub harder." Mama told her. "You should be able to set your reflection in the spoon."
"This silverware is so old nothing will bring it back," Betsy moaned. Then she turned and demanded money and the keys to the car so she could go into the village and buy herself sanitary napkins or Tampax as well as some other hygienic things. Instead. Mama gave her some of her own from her own bathroom closet where I would go monthly to get what I needed. It was an unspoken, unrecognized thing never mentioned or in any way noted. Frustrated. Betsy declared she would walk to town and she would finish the silverware later.
"And who is supposed to babysit for your infant while you do that?" Mama asked her.
"Ill take him with me," Betsy vowed. "I've got to have some time away from this... this hellhole."
Mama glared at her. If you set foot on that highway without my permission. I'll consider it insubordination and fine you a thousand dollars for every step you take."
"You can't do that."
Mama smiled, turned, and opened a drawer under the kitchen counter to produce an index card.
"Your father's attorney and our attorney, Mr. Derward Lee Nokleby-Cook, is at this telephone number. Do you want to call him and ask him what I can and cannot do? Hell be really happy to explain it all to you clearly."
Betsy stared at the card, then looked away without reaching for it. She turned back after a moment.
"How much is in my trust? I don't even know that." Mama put the card back in the drawer.
"Your father had two life insurance policies. He has assigned two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to you to be transferred completely when you reach the age of twenty-five, as I have already explained."
Betsy's eyebrows rose. "Two hundred and fifty thousand?"
"And it earns interest, so it will be worth more."
"Well, why can't I have some of that now?" Betsy whined.
"I told you that as you show responsibility and improvement, I'll give you the funds you need or want to use for sensible things. Your father had no idea about Panther, of course, since you never bothered to call or tell him about his birth, so he didn't include him in the will, but a portion of your trust will be used to fulfill the baby's needs. As he grows, he will require more and more."
"I should decide what he needs and doesn't need. I'm his mother,"
Mama nodded, "Yes, you should. And you will when you show you are capable of making wise, mature decisions."
"I'm capable of that now!"
"I don't see that. I still see a high-strung, selfcentered, irresponsible young girl. However," Mama continued with a smile. "I think in time you will improve if you carry out your duties in a responsible manner.
"Your father placed a very serious and heavy burden on me when he made me sole trustee of your legacy and clearly assigned me the task of helping you achieve maturity and evaluating that maturity, And I," Mama added firmly, "take my obligations very, very seriously.
"Now, it's time for Panther to be fed, and don't rush the food and make him gag like you usually do. You're not going anywhere today. After you finish the silverware, we have to air out our rugs, polish the living room furniture, and vacuum the entire downstairs...
Betsy said nothing. Her eyes were full of such hate and anger, they looked red.
"I'm calling someone," she said abruptly, and marched out to use the phone in the hallway. Mama shook her head and looked at me.
Seconds later. Betsy came rushing back into the kitchen, "What happened to the phone?" she demanded.
"Use of the phone is a privilege in this house. I will decide when it can and cannot be used. I told you, if you want to call our attorney, you can do that."
"I'm not interested in the attorney. I want to call someone else. You can't tell me who I can and cannot call. My father didn't even do that. Where
is it?" Betsy demanded.
Mama turned away and took a mixing bowl out of the cabinet. "I have work to do," she muttered.
"What if someone wants to call me?"
"I'll let you know."
Betsy looked at me, her face contorted in defeat and frustration.
"I told you to look after your child,' Mama said as she opened a jar of sage.
Betsy stood their fuming for a moment, then made a mouselike sound, turned, and stormed out of the kitchen.
"Where is the phone. Mama?' I asked.
"The downstairs phone is locked in the hall closet, and the phone has a lock on it as well." She smiled at me. "Don't worry yourself about any of this, Noble. We have years of neglect and spoiling to overcome as regards Betsy.
"But." she said, running her hand lovingly over my cheek. "we have so much help around us. It's only a matter of time. Please go see if Baby Celeste has awakened from her nap." Then Mama kissed my cheek. It had been so long since she had done that. My heart filled with joy and hope.
Mama's so right, I thought. She's so right. After all. Betsy was about as spoiled as anyone could be.
Betsy heard me ascend the stairway. She came to her doorway. holding Panther in her arms. He looked awake, but still groggy.
"I know what she's doing." Betsy said. "She's stealing my money. I'll get help and she'll be in big trouble. You'll set."
"That's not true. Everything is proper and in order legally."
"I bet. God!" she cried. "Is this the way you want to live your whole life? Just working and never having any fun?"
"I'm not unhappy." I said, and went to look in on Baby Celeste.
She was awake, so I brought her down and we went outside. Betsy had walked down the driveway and stood near the road looking at it like someone looking through barbed wire. I could almost hear the argument going on inside her head, Run. Stay, To where would she run? What if she had to return? What if Mama was doing everything legally right after all and she walked away from more than $250,000?
Surely when she had returned, she had hoped to get a great deal of help from her father, now that she had an infant on her hands. With no money and with Panther to care for, she would not be able to do the things she had done in the past to get by. How manyvyoung men would want to take on an infant as well as her? No chain was around her ankle, but in her way of thinking now, there might as well be one.