“And then he leaves. But he can’t swim back. He has to move the rock in the garden and go down a tunnel that’s too small for him now, until he gets to the sad and lonely mine. He walks for miles in his bare feet past all the quiet soldiers and miners resting against the walls. And every time he makes the journey back to the pool, his heart breaks. So you see how much he loves you, Lily, to make such a trip night after night.”
Silence. Lily pees her pants.
Frances’s footsteps trot away and around the bend until Lily can’t hear them any more. Her Brownie stockings are soaked. She passes out.
When Frances doesn’t hear Lily cry or holler, she runs back through the darkness and lights another match. Oh my God, “Lily!” But Lily lies motionless, dead of a heart attack at ten, it could happen, “Lily!” Frances shakes her, splashes water on her face, and she wakes up. Frances piggy-backs her out of the mine and slides half the way down the hill in stones and dirt. When they get to the bottom, she props Lily against a mossy tree and catches her breath, hands on her knees.
Lily opens her eyes. “Frances, I peed.”
“That’s okay, we’ll go straight home and change, come on.”
Lily stays sitting. “Frances. What if Ambrose is the Devil?”
“He’s not the Devil. I know who the Devil is and it isn’t Ambrose.”
“Who’s the Devil?”
Frances crouches down as if she were talking to Trixie. “That’s something I’ll never tell you, Lily, no matter how old you get to be, because the Devil is shy. It makes him angry when someone recognizes him, so once they do the Devil gets after them. And I don’t want the Devil to get after you.”
“Is the Devil after you?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus can beat the Devil.”
“If God wants.”
“God is against the Devil.”
“God made the Devil.”
“Why?”
“For fun.”
“No, to test us.”
“If you know, why are you asking me?”
“Daddy says there’s no such thing as the Devil, it’s just an idea.”
“The Devil lives with us.”
“No he doesn’t.”
“You see the Devil every day. The Devil hugs you and eats right next to you.”
“Daddy’s not the Devil.”
“I never said he was….”
Frances has got a dry look, tinder in the eye; her voice is a stack of hay heating up at the centre, her mouth a stitched line. “I’m the Devil.”
This is the moment Lily stops being afraid of anything Frances could ever say or do again. Stops being afraid of anything at all. She reaches out and takes Frances’s hand. The white hand that always smells of small wildflowers, lily of the valley. The hand that has always done up Lily’s buttons and laces, and produced wondrous objects. She holds Frances’s hand and tells her, “It’s okay, Frances.”
Frances’s bruised face crumples and her forehead drops to her knees knocking her Girl Guide beret askew. Her stick arms encircle her legs and she cries. Lily strokes the sinewy back while Frances mumbles something over and over.
Years later, Frances remembers that she was saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Lily, I’m sorry.”
But memory plays tricks. Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable.
The First Miracle
My own soul cries out in anguish, it thirsts so much for purification and cleansing. Even while I sleep my soul groans for complete surrender to Jesus. Ah my Saviour, my heart bleeds with pain and love. Oh, Jesus — You know it — My Jesus!
While Frances and Lily were at the old French mine, Mercedes was home in the coal cellar keeping her promise to God.
“Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.” Penance has not only eased her soul, it has been the occasion for Our Lady to put the idea into Mercedes’ mind of a Lourdes fund for Lily. Why didn’t I think of it before? But Mercedes knows the answer. She wasn’t worthy to receive the inspiration until she acknowledged her sins and humbly begged God’s forgiveness.
Naturally Mercedes has made a full confession: “Father forgive me, for I have sinned…. I wished my lame sister dead of a fall, I grieved my poor father, I allowed my favourite sister to suffer for my sin. I have a favourite sister.” She has been assigned a standard penance of prayers, but she has devised an additional private penance here in the cellar.
Although she has told no one of her penance, she has told Daddy and Frances about the Lourdes fund so that they may contribute, and she has told Lily so that Lily may have hope. There is nearly two dollars in the cocoa tin already and it’s only been a week. At this rate, Lily will be able to go to Lourdes when she’s fourteen. That’s a good age for a cure. The brink of womanhood. Think how perfectly lovely Lily would be without her affliction.
Mercedes rises, takes off the white shift and hides it behind the furnace. She stands naked for a moment in the darkness and says a prayer of thanks to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. Most Blessed Virgin, Merciful Mother, Virgin Most Powerful, Seat of Wisdom, Tower of Ivory, Mystical Rose, Queen of the Apostles, Martyrs and all the Saints, Mother Undefiled, pray for us. White Rose of Purity, Winsome One, the Daintiest Jewel that God hath ever made, Great Casket of Mysteries, Princess Fair, that death may be but a prelude to thy kiss, amen.
Then she gets dressed and goes upstairs to wash her tongue before everyone gets home.
She has set the table for supper by the time Lily and Frances arrive rather late from Brownies and Guides. Lily goes straight up to the bathroom to launder her uniform and woollen stockings “for a cleanliness badge”. Frances goes straight to bed to avoid the meal. No one has invented a badge for that yet. Mercedes tells Daddy that Frances is “indisposed” knowing he will not enquire further. Lies like that are not a sin, they are a sacrifice. Mercedes goes upstairs to get Lily.
Lily is kneeling barefoot at the tub which is how Mercedes notices that the wound on her left heel has reopened. That’s not good. It’s two weeks now since Armistice Day. Mercedes wrings out Lily’s Brownie uniform and soaks the bad foot in warm salt water.
“We’ll have the doctor look at it tomorrow.”
Lily has noticed something different about Mercedes lately. For example, now — her movements. They’ve gone … glidy. Mercedes gets a clean dressing from the cabinet. She binds the wound gently and efficiently, not too tight this time, so why does Lily feel frightened as she watches the white cloth go round and round and round her little foot?
“There.”
“Thank you, Mercedes.”
Mercedes smiles at Lily with the peace that penance brings. Lily makes her mouth stretch east and west simultaneously. And again she feels a little scared because Mercedes’ smile is the kind of smile you figure must be meant for the person standing behind you, but behind you is the wall.
They have sardines on toast for supper since no one is very hungry tonight.
When Lily crawls into bed, Frances is already asleep. And soon, so is Lily.
It’s Ambrose. Standing at the foot of her bed, looking down at her the way he does. Lily is in that place again between the lines. This time she looks at him carefully. His wide green eyes, wincing even in this dim light. High smooth forehead with the hint of a bump. His pale body, green shadows drowned beneath his skin. Ivory belly, strange soft segments nestled between his thighs. Hairless but for his head of fine-spun angel orange.