Light Over Water (6 page)

          Alison kissed her and
rose, wondering not for the first time at the bond Esther and Sam shared. 
Esther shared the Eliot looks with her nine siblings– blonde hair, brown eyes,
a broad forehead and high cheekbones.  In her these features were softened by
long lashes, an expressive wide smile and an awareness and compassion that
showed every emotion she felt, unlike Sam who maintained a stoic exterior like
his father.  But they were alike in all else.  They both shouldered the care of
their many younger siblings with cheerful responsibility; they adored their
mother, respected and feared their father, were strong, lithe and tanned.  They
were closer to one another than to anyone else, despite Sam being thirteen
months older.  They had a connection that mystified Alison.  She remembered a
time when Sam was out fishing and got pulled into the water after getting
caught in the bait lines.  He was barely rescued from drowning by his father. 
Esther, without knowing what had happened, felt ill all day and fretted until
they got home.  She knew his moods, interpreted his behavior and served as a
spokesman for the pair.  They weren’t twins, but they might well have been.

Her aunt was
waiting downstairs, while Doctor Granger fetched the buggy.  Mrs. Reid was
putting on her coat, too.  “I’ll notify the minister, and send these telegrams
at Coopers.  Some of the kids can stay with me, Reg, and I’m sure Esther won’t
mind keeping the rest.”

          Reg Eliot shook his
head, his lean face taut as he emphasized, “I want ‘em home - all of ‘em.  You
tell Cleo.”

          The teacher nodded,
sighing shakily.  Reg added, as if remembering to be civil, “I thank you.”  His
gaze skimmed across the room, his dark eyes brimming with tears.  “Allie, ask
Aubrey out there where Sam run off to.  I need him home.”

          With a nod, Alison
slipped out into the gusty wind where Aubrey was still hunkered down, sitting
on an old bait barrel.  “Did you see Sam, Aubrey?  Which way did he head?” she
yelled over the wind.

          Aubrey raised his
head and studied her for a long moment without answering.

          “Did you see him?”
she prompted, stepping closer, her voice rising higher in frustration.

          A slow smile creased
Aubrey’s face.  “Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you.”

          Without a thought,
Alison stepped forward and slapped him smartly.  “That’s what I’ll give you,”
she shouted.

          Brute lifted his
head, whining and Aubrey’s smile vanished.  The door opened then and Pearl and
Mrs. Reid hurried out as the buggy pulled up by the steps.  “Come on, lovey,”
her father barked from the seat of the buggy.

          Alison raised her
eyebrows in question to Aubrey.  “Well?” she demanded.

          With a nod toward the
village, Aubrey said, “He went down the hill…lovey.”  His eyes followed Alison
as she ran down the steps and across to the buggy.  He rubbed his cheek and his
smile returned.

Chapter Four

Our Hearts Shall Beat in Unison

          As they rattled down
the hill in the buggy Alison told her father she needed to be let off in the
village.  “I’ve got to look for Sam.”

          “It’s getting too
cold,” her father protested grimly.  “You’ll freeze without a coat on.”  When
she left for school in the morning, her sweater had been sufficient, but the
temperature had fallen as the daylight waned.

          “When you let me off,
Dr. Granger, I’ll get one of my wraps.  She can use it,” Mary Reid told him.

          The wind had broken
off branches throughout the day and they littered the road.  Through the line
of trees Alison could hear the rote of waves, less forceful now with the tide
out.  Alison was shivering in the cold rain, but her thoughts were only for
Sam.

          When they were
younger, the village kids used to play at an old fort on the headland at the
top of the hill past Eliot’s.  It was crumbling down, having been erected
before the Revolution.   Half of it was missing where its bricks and timber had
been carried off for local construction.  Three years ago their classmate,
Chester Gilman, got a concussion when he fell off a stairway portion during a
playful but vigorous reenactment of the battle of Waterloo.  Since then the
kids were forbidden to play there.  Not only were their parents vigilant about
keeping them away, with poor Chester’s head held up as an example, but also the
local historical society patrolled the grounds for disturbances or vandalism. 
Still, young people went up there.  It afforded a panoramic view of the harbor
from a peaceful, serene place.  Alison knew Sam went there often to get away
from the clamor of his family.  Yet Aubrey said he went down the hill, not up.

          Alison was relieved. 
To get to the fort she’d have to cross through the Eliot’s thicket of woods,
which she always thought of as the forest primeval.  Bears were seen there on
occasion, along with coyotes and bobcats.  Alison was afraid of those woods.

          They drew up to Mrs.
Reid’s house.  Alison’s father jumped down and hurried around the buggy to help
her down.  “I’ll just run in and get my shawl,” she said to the doctor, then
looked back at Alison.  “Just a tick!”

          Dr. Granger reached
up and helped Alison out of the buggy.  “I didn’t bring a lantern with me this
morning,” he said.  “See if you can borrow one from your teacher.  It’ll be
dark soon.  How about if I send Owen back for you after a while?”

          With a shrug she
answered, “I don‘t know how long I‘ll be.  I’ll walk home.  Both Esther and Mr.
Eliot asked if I’d look for him.  I’m kind of worried now myself.”

          “He’s had a bad shock
today.  People react in different ways.”  He drew his daughter tenderly into
his arms.  “You’ve had a shock too.”

          Alison nodded,
feeling her tears begin again.  She felt a sudden and fierce pain – a longing
and a fear.  She longed for her mother and feared she’d lose her father.  She
leaned into him as he hugged her.

          Feeling Mrs. Reid
drape a large heavy shawl over her shoulders, she drew away from her father. 
“Oh, this is good!” she said, wrapping it across her chest and holding it
tightly against her body.  “Thank you.”

          “Ta.  Now here’s
another blanket too, in case you find your young man and he’s run off without a
coat.  And I’ve brought you a light too.  It’s coming on nightfall.”

          “Thank you.  You read
my mind,” Dr. Granger told her with a grateful smile.  “You’ve been very helpful.”

          The rain slapped at
them on a gust of wind and they all cringed.  At an impatient movement from his
sister waiting in the buggy, Alison‘s father said, “We must be going.  See you
at home, Allie.  Good-bye, Mrs. Reid.”  He scrambled up to the seat of the
wagon and headed home.

          “Where are you going
to look?” Mary asked Alison as she held off the rain with an umbrella she had
carried out.  “He could be anywhere!”

          Shaking her head,
Alison spoke above the noise of the weather.  “Maybe at the lighthouse or on
the dock. Aubrey Newell said he ran down the hill.”  The wind was carrying her
voice away.

          “Oh no, dear.  Don’t
try to go to the lighthouse in the dark.” The lighthouse on Old Bald Head stood
on top of a high spit on the northern edge of Little Cove and it was accessible
by a winding road over the rocks.  Everyone knew the way, but also knew it was
treacherous without a light.  “I must get these telegrams over to Coopers.  If
I see you about when I come back, I’ll go with you.”  She turned swiftly and
started up the road, then yelled back.  “Try the church, why don’t you, before
you go anywhere else.”

          The church was set
back in a grove of trees near the school.  As she headed that way, she thought
about Mrs. Reid’s words: your young man.  Was that how people saw them?  Was
that how she thought of him?  She rolled these words through her mind as she
trudged across a field and approached the dark building.  There were no lights
glowing through the windows, but, she reasoned, there wouldn’t be.  Sam ran
from the house while it was midday.  “Please, Sam, be here,” she murmured as
she tried the door.  It swung open and she had to grab its edge before the wind
pushed it back against the wall.  She closed it carefully for it seemed wrong
to make any noise in here.  It was so silent.  Alison drew in a slow breath,
inhaling the familiar scent of old wood, slightly mildewed curtains and lemon
oil.  Reverend Whiting liked to light the candles sometimes, so there was a
more subtle smell of candle wax and lamp oil.

          Walking slowly
through the cloakroom, Alison lifted her lamp high.  The sanctuary was very
dark, almost forbidding, made more so by a whisper of sound she could now hear
after shutting the door.  Someone was moving in the next room.  Alison tiptoed
in, even as she was thinking there could be no subterfuge with her lantern held
up before her.  Ahead of her there was no one, but off to the side was a darker
shape.  Turning, she recognized Sam, huddled in the pew furthest back, his arms
crossed in front of him, leaning on his knees.  His eyes had a startled squint
and she lowered the lantern as she hurried over to his side.

          “Here you are!” she
sighed, then “Sam?” as he turned his face away and leaned his forehead on the
seat in front of him.

          Alison set the
lantern on the floor, and slid in beside him, her heart thumping with alarm. 
She unfolded the blanket and spread it over his shoulders, which were shaking
slightly.  “You must be frozen,” she said in a low voice, her head next to his.

          He made no movement
or sound.

          “Your father and
Esther are worried about you,” she continued, her hand slipping across his
shoulders.  He tensed slightly, but didn’t draw away.  “You just ran off…and
they don’t know where you are.”

          “They don’t want to
see me,” he breathed in a low strangled voice.

          Alison’s hand inched
up the back of his neck and further up into his thick blonde hair.  This was
how she comforted her younger brother Davey by rubbing his head and soothing
his neck.  But her own heart beat harder and the cords in his neck were hard
and stiff under her cold hand.

          “Of course they want
you home.  Why wouldn’t they?” she persisted, speaking softly.

          He drew himself up
straight and shook off her hand.  The blanket slid off his back as he shrugged
it off.  “Because I killed her,” he cried, turning to grasp her shoulders. 
“Don’t you understand?  It’s my fault!”

          His words filled the
room and seemed to echo over and over as Alison stared at him, shaking her
head.  The light from the lantern made shadows on his face, which looked
ravaged and unfamiliar.  He stared back at her, and then he seemed to crumble
inside and his hands loosened, sliding down her arms.  She picked up his hands
and gripped them tightly as she asked, “Why do you think that?  Because I know
what happened to her, physically.  No one could have stopped it or made it
happen, for that matter.”

          Confusion spread
across his face as he answered.  “I enlisted.  I told them last night.  I leave
for training in two weeks and I heard her crying all night.”  His voice broke. 
He started to pull away, but Alison put her hands onto either side of his face
and drew him back until he was looking at her.  In the lamplight his eyes shone
with tears, and she swallowed back her own grief.

          “My father told me
what happened.  The afterbirth came out first, and they couldn’t stop the
bleeding.  It was that way from the start, Sam.  You couldn’t cause that.”

          Then he closed his
eyes and tipped his head back, tears trickling down onto her fingers.  A low
whimper escaped his throat.  In one swift movement he pulled her onto his lap,
wrapped his arms around her and leaned his face into her neck.  He cried for
his mother, his shoulders straining as he sobbed, and Alison’s heart broke to
hear his sorrow.  She wanted to ease his pain and soothe him.  She wrapped her
arms around his neck and rubbed her cheek on his hair, her own tears flowing
now.  She held him until he quieted.  She wasn’t aware of time passing, or of
the slow dying of the wind.  The lamp sputtered in the growing quiet, and
Alison held on to Sam, aware and knowing for the first time that what she was
feeling, more than any sorrow, was love.   She wasn’t surprised.  It had been a
seed in her heart since they were little, but she was overwhelmed at the
immensity of it.  She felt as though she would burst and she could never hide
it from him.  For what seemed natural to her may be utterly foreign to him.

It was curious to
her.  She’d known Sam always.  They were as comfortable together as brother and
sister.  She’d listened to his dreams and longings, and helped him diagram
sentences and measure angles.  They had competed fiercely in all their
childhood games and sparred over everything from sleds to politics.  But in
this one thing his heart was hidden.  She never knew if he loved anyone.  All
these thoughts came to her in an instant and as she mused on this, she realized
that she should move out of his arms.  She was indulging herself in the
nearness of him while he was simply seeking solace.