Mother died two nights after Christmas, as Father held her, singing hymns to her. The next day, he dressed her in her favorite dress and sent word to the undertaker. The stonecarver had already completed her headstone, and her burial place had long been chosen.
Noah wrote to me of Nathan’s illness in late January of 1892, and I hurried home again. That first night back, as I studied my father’s face, etched in grief, I saw that my mother’s death had wounded him even more deeply than I had imagined. I had never doubted their love or devotion to one another, but I had not before realized how much of his strength must have come from her. If this great man could be made so weak, what would become of us? I suddenly felt as small and frightened as a boy of Nathan’s age.
“Papa!” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
He looked at me and smiled a little. “It is some time since you called me ‘Papa.’”
“You-you need your sleep,” I said. “Won’t you go up to bed?”
The smile faded. “So empty, that room…” he murmured.
“Please, it’s so late and you seem so tired-”
“I cannot-I will not be able to sleep there.”
Understanding dawned. “Then I’ll make a place up for you here, near the fire. But you must sleep. Please. Nathan and Noah need you. I need you.”
And so he consented, but when I left him to go back to Nathan, he was staring into the fire.
The next morning, my father gently shook me awake. I sat up stiffly in the chair next to the bed where Nathan still slept. I could hear our dogs barking. Father gestured for me to step into the hallway.
“Winston is on his way up the drive! I’ve asked Noah to delay him all he can. But I must tell you this-make sure Nathan hears nothing of his foolish talk.”
I started to tell him that Nathan’s head was already full of Winston’s foolish talk, but he had hurried off.
I stood near the window of Nathan’s room, straining to hear the conversation that was taking place below. Winston was a large man, whose new derby, well-made coat and fine boots signaled his prosperity, but could not improve his rough features. As my father approached, Winston’s pock-marked cheeks were flush. He eyed the dogs warily, until Noah called them to heel.
“Will you not ask me in, neighbor?” Winston asked, fingering his heavy gold watch chain.
“My youngest is ill,” my father said firmly. “I would not have you disturb him.”
My father’s lack of hospitality did not delay Winston from his mission. He took a deep breath, and said in loud voice, “I fear for my community, for my neighbors and their families! I know you’re scared for what remains of yours, too. I can see it in your eyes, Arden. Rebecca took the boys, then they took Sarah. Now, Sarah’s taking Nathan. John and Noah will follow, and you’ll be last. Julia may be far away enough to be safe, but there is no certainty of that.”
“My family’s safety is my own concern, Winston.”
“Your obligation is greater than you perceive, Arden!” Winston shot back. “The vampires look beyond your family! Lavinia Gardner has the consumption.”
“Isaac’s wife is ill?” my father asked, dismayed.
“Yes. And she’s dreamt of your wife! There’s only one way to stop this-the ritual must be performed! It has worked for Robinson, and others as well. This is a warning, Arden! If you’re afraid to do what is necessary, I’ll do it myself!”
“You’ll go nowhere near the graves of my beloved!” Father shouted. “I know of your ritual, Winston. I’ve spoken with Robinson. He’s not the same man-he’s alive, but he looks for all world as if he believes himself damned.”
“Nonsense!” Winston blustered. “What’s more important, Arden? Maintaining your own selfish prejudices, or the survival of Carrick Hollow? Our eldest sons and daughters are fleeing-they’ve taken factory jobs in Providence and Fall River.”
“There are many reasons they leave. You have no wife or children, Winston. Allow me to take care of my own.”
“A fine job you’re doing of it! Half of them dead!”
Noah stepped forward, his fists clenched. I could not make out what he said to Winston.
“Noah,” my father said, “it’s all right. Try though he may, Mr. Winston can not harm me with his words.”
“Think of your neighbors, Arden!” Winston said. “Think of Isaac if you won’t think of your own sons!” He turned on his heel and strode quickly down the lane, dried leaves swirling in his wake.
“Johnny?” I heard a small voice say.
I turned from the window to see Nathan watching me. “So you’re awake, Mr. Sleepyhead!”
“I heard Mr. Winston yelling at Papa.”
“Yes, and had known you were awake, I would have opened the window and used this fine slingshot to knock old Thunderpuss’s fancy derby right off his silly head.”
Nathan smiled and said, “I should have liked to have seen you do it,” and went back to sleep.
The thaw broke the day Lavinia Gardner died. Isaac Gardner came to visit us two weeks later. Noah stayed with Nathan as I sat with Father, watching Isaac wring his hands.
“You know what I think of Winston,” he began. “And I would not come to trouble you, Amos, except-except that, before she died, Lavinia called Sarah’s name several times.”
“Our wives were good friends,” my father said.
Isaac shook his head. “That’s not what I mean, Amos. I mean, called her name as if she were within speaking distance. I’d tell her, ‘Sarah’s dead,’ and she’d say, ‘No, Sarah Arden is rattling me again. She comes at night and shakes me and the cough starts up.’”
My father sat in stunned silence.
“Your wife was very ill-” I began gently.
“Yes, John,” Isaac said, “and I told myself that she was right out of her head, although of course Neighbor Winston had a good deal to say otherwise, and he’s caught my daughter’s ear. Even before Jane took ill, she was asking me if maybe we should pay attention to what Winston had to say.”
“The news of Jane’s illness only reached us yesterday,” my father said. “I was sorry to hear of it, Isaac. I had always hoped that she and Noah-well, I can only offer my prayers for her recovery.”
“She’s all I have left in the world, Amos,” Isaac said. “As hard on you as it has been, losing so many-well, I don’t know what I’ll do if Jane suffers like her mother did.” He paused then said, “But I’m here, Amos, because I want you to know what things have come to-and God forgive me, but I need your help. Jane no longer doubts that Winston’s right.”
“What?”
“Yes. Just last night, she told me, ‘Mother will take me just like Sarah Arden took her.’ And she pleaded with me, Amos-‘Mr. Winston knows the way to stop this. You can’t let me die!’”
My father was silent.
“I told her,” Isaac said, his voice breaking, “I told her, ‘Jane, think of it! Think what you ask me to do! Your mother-let her rest in peace!’ And she said, ‘But father, she’s not resting in peace now. She can only rest forever with your help.’”
“Good God, Isaac!”
“I don’t believe in it, not for a minute, Amos. But she does. And what’s worse, now more than half the village does, too! Winston’s got them all stirred up. What they say of you, I’ll not repeat.”
“I’d as soon you didn’t!” Father said, casting a glance at me.
“I’ve gone to Pastor Williams. He doesn’t promote the ritual, but he doesn’t oppose it, either. He’s only human, and Winston holds some sway with him, too.”
“With his coffers, you mean. I hear Winston’s most recent donation makes up what is needed for the new roof on the church.”
“Amos!”
“Yes, yes, I’m ashamed of making such a remark. Forgive me, Isaac.” He sighed and said, “What do you need from me?”
“Help me to do it.”