45. Chapter 36
Chapter 36
E lijah's mother sat at Dawdi's kitchen table, head in her hand. She looked up when he walked in, and her face went pale. "Elijah!" She sprang up and started to rush to embrace him, but she stopped herself. Her face was a misery. "Dawdi said you'd left us. Why'd you come back?"
"Had a dream he was in trouble. I had to come."
She shuddered and drew back, closing her eyes in what Elijah knew was a prayer of protection. It hurt. His mother had always been afraid of braucherei. Dawdi was his father's father, so his mother hadn't grown up with it. But her fear of him was a tiny sting compared to the fact that she'd been willing to shun him in the first place.
"Where is he?" Elijah asked.
She shook her head. "There's nothin' you can do. We've tried everythin'. The elders were here prayin' with him for hours. They just left. They said it's in God's hands now."
Elijah walked past her into the living room.
"Elijah!" She hurried after him, reaching out but not quite daring to touch him. "There's nothin' you can do. Don't make it worse!"
"I have to see him." Elijah headed up the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, ignoring her hissed protests. The steps squeaked and complained just as he remembered from all the years he'd spent here with Dawdi. It felt like no time had passed at all.
But it had. He was no longer the quiet Elijah who did everything he was told.
In the upstairs hall, he opened the door to his grandfather's room. Dawdi was in the bed looking half dead already. He'd lost at least thirty pounds since Elijah had last seen him. His face was hollow and gray with dark circles around his closed eyes. His hands were palms-up atop the covers, as if hoping for a blessing.
Father and Uncle Josiah were keeping watch in chairs at the foot of the bed.
Uncle Josiah sprang up, his face thunderous. "Get out! This is a holy place!"
Father stood shakily. "Elijah! You should not be here."
The two men, so familiar to him, showed not a trace of the longing his mother had shown for him. So Dawdi had told them of his sin, of the reason he'd left. They had cut him out of their hearts, and easily enough, it seemed. Elijah died a little inside. Part of him wanted to turn and run away. But he looked again at Dawdi. If he left now, and the man died, he'd carry that forever. "I'm here to help him."
"Help him?" Father said. "Your presence will only cause him misery."
Elijah ignored him. He moved to go to Dawdi's side, but Uncle Josiah stepped in front of him, fists clenched. Elijah walked around him and went to the bedside. He knelt on the hardwood floor and took Dawdi's hand.
How could he love the old man, when he had been so at odds with him? But Dawdi was what he was, and he believed what he'd been raised to believe. Elijah found he could not blame him for that.
"Dawdi." He squeezed the old man's hand. It was cold and hard, as if already tinged with death.
Dawdi cracked his eyes open and looked at Elijah.
"I had a dream." Elijah said. "I came to help. Sorry I didn't know what was goin' on sooner."
Dawdi said nothing, but he found the strength to tug away his hand and turn his back to Elijah.
"Go now," Father said, exasperated. "You can see he doesn't want you here."
Elijah addressed the old man in the bed. "I know who's hexin' you. They found me where I'm livin' in Mount Joy and tried to get me to join up. I left you a letter in the mailbox, back near Thanksgivin'. Did you get it?"
Dawdi didn't turn around, but he relaxed slightly, and Elijah felt the shift in the air.
"They said if they got you out of the way, they'd rule the county. You can't let them win. We can't. We have to fight."
Dawdi slowly turned onto his back and his eyes burned with anger, but it wasn't aimed at Elijah. "I tried." His voice croaked. "Fought them off for a while, but they're too strong. Too strong for me alone, and Amos left. And you."
The old man's blue eyes were filled with accusation. If Elijah hadn't left, if Dawdi hadn't been forced to take another apprentice, one that wasn't trustworthy. If, if….
Elijah wasn't going to take on that guilt. Dawdi had made his choices. He'd laid down the ultimatum. It was not Elijah's fault that he wasn't willing or able to bear Dawdi's yoke forever. But all of that could wait.
"I'm here now, and I can help you clear it."
"Too late." Dawdi's head thrashed weakly on the pillow.
"It's not too late," Elijah said firmly. "You and I. You know the power we can make together."
"You're not right with God! You can't do braucherei."
"I promise you, I can. Look at me and see."
"I'm too weak!" Dawdi cried.
"I can make you stronger." Elijah stood, absolutely sure of what he needed to do.
"Uncle Josiah, fetch the wooden bucket in Dawdi's workroom. Fill it three-quarter with water from the pump and set it here." He pointed next to the bed. "Da, get some cedar shavings and burn 'em in here. They're in the workroom, and the tin to burn 'em is there too. I need a yellow candle and some of Dawdi's special oil."
The two men hesitated. "Da?" his father looked at Dawdi.
Dawdi covered his face with his hands. "Mein Gott. Do as he says."
The two men silently obeyed. Elijah himself went down to the little room where Dawdi stored his herbs. He gathered the ones he needed and a gauze pouch to put them in. He made two pouches—one for him and one for Dawdi, working as fast as he dared. He knew Dawdi weakened by the hour.
By the time he got back upstairs, Father had the cedar chips alight and sickly sweet smoke curled through the room. The wooden bucket filled with fresh spring water was on the floor and his mother was helping Dawdi sit up and drink a glass of milk. It was clear he didn't want it but was forcing it down.
"For strength," he said to Elijah, taking another sip before waving her away.
Elijah nodded. He propped pillows up behind Dawdi's back, then sat on the edge of the bed and took Dawdi's hand in his. They prayed together and Elijah called down golden light from above and sent it into his dawdi's arm. He would need strength for this fight; as much as Elijah could give him.
He poured light in until Dawdi said, "Enough. Save your energy."
Elijah opened his eyes. Dawdi's face was less gray and his eyes sparked. He was looking at Elijah as if he didn't know him. "You have gotten stronger. It shouldn't be."
Elijah didn't know what to say. He could say it had something to do with feeling loved and valued where he was now, or Jolie's advice, or being madly in love, or learning to accept who and what he was. But now was not the time for that conversation. He doubted it would ever be the time.
"I'm as strong as I need to be to help you," he said instead. "By the will of God."
Dawdi studied him a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "By the will of God. Ja. He sent you. It is by the will of God."
"Ready to begin?"
"Ja."
Dawdi's grip was firm now as he grasped Elijah's hand. Elijah put his other hand in the bucket of cold water. Dawdi said the invocation in German, his voice deep and grave.
"Trotter Head, I forbid thee my house and premises; I forbid thee my horse and cow-stable; I forbid thee my bedstead, that thou mayest not breathe upon me; breathe into some other house, until thou hast ascended every hill, until thou hast counted every fence-post, and until thou hast crossed every water. And thus dear day may come again into my house, in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost…"
They began to pull the dark curse from the house.