Authors: Vicki Lane
The Drovers’ Road X
Love Medicine
I slipped out to the barn as soon as the house was quiet, thinking that Lydy would be lookin for me in our old place. Up in the haymow where the pallet was waitin, I stretched out to wait, smilin to myself at how easy it had been. Lydy had took the applejack from my own hand, like Mariah had said he must, and he had drunk it down in one swaller, never tastin what was in it.
When first I’d had sign that I was with child, I’d gone to see Mariah. Though they was Melungeons, Mariah and her man was well thought of in our part of the county and she was known to be a good hand with herbs and cures. She had helped me back of this when my courses begun and I had such pains every month that I had to take to my bed. Mariah had give me a tea brewed of raspberry leaves and willow bark, with honey from her bee gums and hit had stopped the pains almost to oncet.
So now I made my way through the woods, along the trail that ran above the drovers’ road. Hit was more steep-like and twistin amongst the rocks and trees but at this time of the year the drovers’ road was deep in muck and no place for a single girl to travel on anyways.
I found Mariah in her little stone house, strainin honey into the heavy brown crocks she had. Like always, she had flowers in her hair and like always she was happy to see me.
Lulie, she says, openin out her arms and smilin that way that always makes me wish I’d known my mother. I walk into her arms and as I feel her warmth, I bust out bawlin.
What is it, Lulie? she asks, when I can talk again. She puts her big hands on either side of my face and looks into my eyes, like she is seein my inside thoughts. It’s not the monthly pains this time, is it? And before I can make answer, she says, No, I see. Quite t’ other way round.
Mariah, says I, I don’t know what to do. He hasn’t spoke for me yet and I fear he may not.
Her dark face was grieved as she spoke. Lulie, you’ve not come here thinkin I’ll rid you of this child? I know what the talk is but that’s a thing I will not do.
I had knowed that, but hit had been at the back of my mind that she might help me that way. It was whispered that my stepmother Belle had once rid a girl of the bastard she was carryin but then the girl had bled to death. That girl had been sickly to start with and she’d likely have died anyway, is what was said. But Belle was still in Warm Springs and even had she been to hand, I could never have gone to her with my secret.
No, Mariah, I’ll not ask for that. But I’ve heard you can make a drink that will bind a man to a woman forever more. That’s what I want of you.
She cast her eyes down and stood silent for a minute. Mariah, I said, if I can’t marry Lydy, all that’s left for me is to fling myself into the river. I’m beggin you, fix me that love medicine.
Hit’s a powerful thing, she warned me. And oncet hit’s done, hit can’t be undone. You got to think on that. Lulie, if the boy don’t want to marry you and your daddy casts you out, you can come here. Me and Ish’ll care for you like you was our own.
Them two had never had children but Mariah mothered any sick or lame creature that came their way. She had nursed me through the summer complaint the year I was born for Belle hadn’t had no idea how to care for a baby.
But I kept on a-beggin and swearin to throw myself in the river till at long last Mariah agreed and told me what I must do. I was to dig the root of the little three-petaled woods flower that bloomed white in the spring. I knowed which one she meant and where there was a patch of them, though the pretty white flowers was long past. Next I was to wash the root in spring water and lay it to dry in some dark place. When hit was bone dry then I could crush it into a powder.
My granny said that it should be a Friday when you crush the roots and Friday midnight when you mix it with the honey, Mariah said.
Did you ever use this potion? I asked and her eyes went to the open door. Out there was Ish, bent over hoein the garden rows. He seemed to feel her lookin at him and straightened up, a great white smile on his brown face.
Only oncet, said she.
I had done like Mariah told me and the little bottle of love medicine was hid away in my feather tick against Lydy’s return. Truth to tell, I’d almost forgot hit, thinkin I might not have need, thinkin maybe Lydy would come to me on his own. But after I seen him save Belle from the hogs and carry her into the house, all unheedin of my call, a cold fear come over me and I unstitched the tick and got that little bottle out.
I held it up to the window, letting the last rays of the settin sun stream through it, lightin it up with a yellow glow. Put it in his food or drink at night and give it to him with your own hand, Mariah had said. Make sure he takes all of it and make sure you lay with him afore the sun comes up. As soon as that happens, he’ll be yourn forever more.
The moonlight sifted through the logs of the barn, making bars acrost my body and the sweet-smellin hay beneath me. I lay there, eager for Lydy and eager for the lovin that was to come, the lovin that Mariah had said would bind him to me for all time. To me and to this baby, I thought, layin a hand on my belly. I shut my eyes and begun to picture the years to come, me and Lydy with our fine family—runnin the stand and bringin up our boys to do the same. I fell asleep picturin them so clear, standin afore me like stair steps, from the tallest to the least un…
But my dreams was different. It was me in the river and Lydy on the bank, standin there where he had first helped me with the washin. He was laughin an evil laugh as he watched me bein carried downstream, wavin my arms and hollerin fer him to save me. My skirts was heavy with the water, twistin roun my legs and pullin me under. I tried to kick free and then I heard the grunt and squeal of the great fish monster Daddy used to tell of and I hollered out.
I woke all to oncet and lay there blinkin, happy to find myself not in the river but still all a-tremble. So I sat up, fearin to fall back to sleep and back into that evil dream. My heart was poundin in my ears and at first I didn’t hear the sounds outside the barn.
But when the thumpin in my head had quieted and I was full awake, I heard the small little noise in the grass and peered through a crack betwixt the logs, thinkin to see Lydy comin to me, my own true love.
Hit was the bitterest sight my eyes had ever seen. They was down there in the moonlight, Belle and Lydy, ruttin like a pair of hogs. I seen them and hit was black bile in my mouth to know what I had done by usin Mariah’s love medicine.
Chapter 31
Missing Persons
Tuesday, December 26
T
he number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Leave a message at the tone.”
Elizabeth made a face at the telephone, then, in obedience to the beep, began to speak. “Phillip, I found out some stuff. That Bam-Bam girl Thelma and Maxie were telling us about—her name was Bambi Fleischaker. And there’s a whole Web site about her—her parents have been trying to get in touch with her for years. It said they last heard from her in the spring of ’95 when she was hitchhiking through West Virginia. I’m wondering if maybe Bambi ended up here—in the old silo.”
She clicked off the telephone and sat, the instrument still in her hand.
God, what a grim message to leave. And that poor girl’s parents—all this time not knowing where their daughter was…or if she was even alive. Like whoever it is looking for Spencer Greer.
Elizabeth glanced at the clock on the computer.
Quarter of twelve. Surely Glory’ll be up by now.
With a sigh of resignation, she punched in her sister’s number.
“I
told
you, Lizzy. Amanda’s mother was married to a Spencer Greer before she married Lawrence Lucas. Of course, I never
met
this Greer; Ronnie was a widow when she and the little boy moved to Tampa. She met Lawrence through mutual friends and Lawrence fell in love with her. Very romantic—you know she’s every bit as good-looking as Amanda
and
she hasn’t let herself go like some people I could mention. Anyway, Lawrence was completely smitten and they were married within a few months. Lawrence offered to adopt the boy but Ronnie wanted him to keep his father’s name—apparently Ronnie’d been quite in love with this Greer and might have remained a grieving widow forever if not for the financial security Lawrence offered.
“Then Amanda was born a few years later and they were a happy little family. Of course, Lawrence has more money than God on a good day, so there were no problems
there.
The boy was quite attractive and evidently very intelligent—did well at school and all that. Little Amanda absolutely worshiped him—of course, he was a good deal older. Let’s see, Larry and Ronnie married in ’80—the year Ben was born—and the little boy must have been six or seven at the time. I remember him at the wedding, standing up beside Ronnie in his little white suit, so darling. So there were eight or nine years between the two children, but in spite of that—”
“Glory, what was the tragedy you mentioned yesterday?”
God, she’s getting as bad as Aunt Dodie, the way she runs on.
Elizabeth switched the phone to her other ear and began to doodle on the list in front of her as her sister continued, undeterred.
“Oh, the tragedy—that’s what I’m getting to. The boy
died
when he was only nineteen. He was traveling in South America or Africa or one of those
awful
places and there was a horrible accident or maybe it was one of those
gruesome
diseases they have. Lawrence and Ronnie flew wherever it was and brought the ashes home. Yes, that’s it, it must have been a highly contagious disease—I know there was a reason he had to be cremated. So there was a small family service and that was that. They never speak of him now. I believe it broke Amanda’s heart. We all think it’s why she’s turned out to be so odd.”
“And the father of this boy, this Spencer Greer, are you sure he’s dead?”
“Well, really, Lizzy! When a woman moves to town, a woman with connections to some of the
best
families, let me add, if that woman says she’s a widow, I, for one, don’t demand to see a death certificate. Of course he’s dead.”
Elizabeth stared at her list. The three items were almost obliterated by her spiraling doodles.
So why, if Spencer Greer is dead, is someone looking for him? And who’s paying for this ad?
Amanda. Who else? Previous ads had said to respond to a post office box in Tampa; this most recent one bore a Ransom address. Amanda had moved here from Tampa.
Quod erat demonstrandum. And didn’t the girls see her checking a post office box in Ransom? Part of her supposed tie-in with her father’s development companies, according to Laurel.
“But it doesn’t make any sense,” she explained to James, who was watching her intently, waiting to see if she was going to go to the kitchen and fix some lunch. “Even if Spencer Greer is alive, what would it matter to Amanda?”
Instantly, an answer presented itself—fantastic, but
—Okay, say Amanda’s mother wasn’t a widow. Say she wasn’t even divorced. That would make her marriage to Amanda’s father bigamous and so maybe Amanda got wind of that and—
“Baloney, Elizabeth! You’re turning this into a bloody soap opera.” She stood, stretched, and started for the kitchen, accompanied by the usual retinue of hopeful dogs. Resolutely ignoring the remains of yesterday’s duck
—there’s enough for us both to have some tonight since the kids are going out—
she made a cheese-and-chutney sandwich on one of the leftover rolls, absentmindedly tossing slivers of sharp cheddar to Molly, Ursa, and James in turn.
Besides, the ads have been appearing for years,
she thought as she took her plate to the table
—if they first started in ’95, Amanda would have been…what did Glory say, Amanda was born a few years after Ben…eighty-two from ninety-five…no way. A thirteen-year-old girl placing ads in an obscure out-of-state town looking for her mother’s previous husband? Get a grip, Elizabeth; there has to be another explanation.
A visit to Nola would be just the thing, she decided, to extract her fevered imagination from the tales it was attempting to spin. The day was clear and cold enough that a little snow still dusted the ground, but there was no wind and the air felt wonderful—invigorating rather than punishing.
A stop at the mailbox yielded a few late Christmas cards, a letter for Ben from someone in Delaware
…and that, Elizabeth, right there is one reason Amanda might choose to get her mail in town. So Ben’s nosy aunt doesn’t know all her business.
As usual, her trip off the farm included various small errands to be done:
Dumpsters, gas at Jim Hinkley’s, go see Nola, deposit those checks…I can take care of all that, pick up some groceries, and, just like James James Morrison’s mother, be back in time for tea.
As Elizabeth neared Nola’s room, she realized that the picture of a completely recovered Nola, tapping an impatient foot on the floor and demanding to be released, was tantalizing her and speeding her pace. The sound of a cheerful voice in the room ahead lifted her hopes.
“That’s okay, Michelle. You go on and take your break.” The voice was familiar but not Nola’s. It continued on. “I wish you could have seen them this morning. Those rascals PC and Opie were playing with my knitting and unraveled half of what I’d done yesterday.”
A bulky form hurried through the door, almost colliding with Elizabeth. “Oopsie, didn’t see you there! Go right in, her and her neighbor’s having a little visit.”
The aide didn’t linger but hurried down the hall, pulling a pack of cigarettes from one pocket and a cell phone from another. With a brief prayer to Whatever or Whomever that Nola might be better, Elizabeth stepped into the room.
No change.
The disappointment was like a blow. Nola lay on her bed, mouth slack, eyes glazed. She didn’t seem to register Elizabeth’s entrance, but lay unmoving. Only the labored rise and fall of her chest betrayed that she was alive.
Like the voice, the silver hair and bright blue eyes of Nola’s visitor were familiar.
It’s the neighbor…what was her name…Lee something?
“Well, hello there, Miz Goodweather. Remember me—Lee Palatt? I guess I’ve about worn poor Nola out, telling her about my kitties.”
The sweet-faced woman stood, looking ostentatiously at her watch. “I’ve got to be running along now—due at a meeting for the spay-neuter clinic volunteers.”
She leaned over the bed, raising her voice slightly. “You just rest and get better, Nola. I’ll be back to see you soon.”
As Lee Palatt turned to leave, she threw Elizabeth a meaningful look, nodding toward the door and mouthing the word
Outside.
Elizabeth glanced at Nola, then followed the other woman out to the hall.
“Poor Nola! Have
you
seen any improvement? I don’t know; it seems to me she’s losing ground. I’m surprised that so-called niece of hers isn’t around more—they were here and then they were gone. She
says
she’s a nurse at a hospital in Raleigh and can’t get any more time off. They managed to clean out that little house pretty thoroughly, I’d say.” Lee Palatt’s words dripped disgust. “Selling off everything they can…
“But it’s an odd thing—last night I saw a light in Nola’s house, moving around like a flashlight. I thought it might be those two back for something they’d missed, but when I looked I didn’t see any vehicle. I’ll tell you this: whoever it was, they were definitely looking for something. Good grief, look at the time! I’ve got to run!”