Chapter 37 #2
Hasil squinted at the photo. “She had a birthmark that went clear from her belly button to her neck that looked just like a tree. I saw it when they pulled her out at the hospital. Craziest thing I’d ever seen.” He shook his head. “It was part of why my wife wouldn’t take her in.”
Her mark was a tree, and mine was a branch.
I handed him the blanket and the photo, and he put them back in the box and gave me the whole thing. “You should have this.” His eyes paled and watered, but I couldn’t tell if it was emotion or just old age.
“What happened with the uncle who raised her? The sheriff mentioned an incident,” I asked.
He scowled. “I don’t rightly know ’cause I only heard the rumors, but they said her aunt found him near dead on the kitchen floor and Ernestine gone. I saw ’im in church a few weeks after, and he looked like a daggum monster.”
He sucked his teeth, and I interjected, “In the cave church?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, yes. We held services in a cave back then; thought it brought us closer to the land. A little wacky, but it made worship feel more ancient-like. They stopped doing it years ago.” He cast his eyes around as if he’d lost his train of thought.
“You were saying about her uncle…”
“Oh, yes, he told people he’d been thrown from his horse, but we all knew the truth.
I thought about tryin’ to find ’er, but I figured she left for a reason, and she was better for it.
” The old man’s face sagged. “I should have looked out for her. I promised Aileen I would. But I was a coward…” He trailed off, and his head drooped to the side.
Enoch turned to his father. “Dad, why don’t you take a nap? I’ll entertain these ladies.”
The old man nodded distantly and shuffled into a back room without another word.
We sat in silence for a beat, just looking at each other. Then I said, “Enoch, is there anything else you can tell us?”
Enoch put a finger up, then made a show of cocking his ear toward his father’s room.
Soon, we heard a low snoring coming from inside, and he leaned back in his chair.
“I do, actually.” He lowered his voice. “When Ernestine showed up in ’82, she didn’t look good.
Real thin, and like she hadn’t slept in a week.
Dad told her the same thing he told you.
They tried to stop the curse; it didn’t work.
But later, when he was out of the room, I told her that wasn’t the whole story. ” He took a deep breath.
“Growing up, Dad didn’t tell me about the curse, but I heard about it from other kids. It’s sorta like a ghost story in town—everyone knows it. Dad never said anything, but he must have been relieved he didn’t have any daughters. Just me and my two brothers.
“Years ago, Dad got real drunk on Christmas Eve. He went out to the porch to sober up, and I sat with him. He started talking about his mother—his only memory of her was one Christmas Eve when it started snowing. He and Aileen went out with her into the backyard and tried to catch snowflakes with their tongues. He started crying a little bit, and I didn’t say anything. I don’t think I’d ever seen him cry.
“Then he started talking about the day Aileen died. He kept saying he found her hanging from the tree, and I asked him what he meant. He said she was hanging from a rope. I was confused because I knew she’d been hit by a truck.
He said no, she hung herself in the tree and he found her.
He could barely say the words. He said he climbed up and cut her down.
She was still warm, and he could feel a heartbeat when he checked her, so he ran with her over his shoulder to his car and took her to the hospital, and they cut Ernestine out, like he usually tells the story.
“I didn’t know what to say to him. I couldn’t believe he’d kept this secret all those years.
I asked him why he lied and told everyone the truck story, and he said people out here don’t like it when someone takes their own life, especially back then.
It woulda been real bad for our family, and for Ernestine growing up.
Her daddy’s sister might not have taken her in.
“Then at Aileen’s funeral, an old friend of his mother’s told him his mother hadn’t fallen from that bridge. She’d jumped.
“You have to understand that back in the day, people thought mental illness was a sign of devil possession, or something supernatural. Not sure how’d you diagnose it, exactly, but my guess is that the family curse is a mental illness of some kind, passed down through the genes.”
But what about Belle’s birthmark in the shape of the tree? The branch on my chest? Each woman dying exactly on their 33rd birthday? The dog? And the man in white?
It was all too strange to be explained so easily. Ever since I was a child, before I even knew how to give it language, I had carried a creature inside me, and I had sensed a terrible fate looming on the horizon. As much as I wanted there to be an easy solution, I knew there wasn’t.
I could see how it might have looked like a suicide from the outside. But he didn’t know how evil could crawl inside you, fill your head with poison, make you do things you never imagined doing.
This thing didn’t play by their rules; it was governed by an older, more elusive force.
When I didn’t respond, Hess jumped in. “Thank you for sharing that with us. We really appreciate it.”
“Is the granny witch still around?” I asked.
“No, she passed.” He paused, deliberating, then he sighed. “But her granddaughter is. She still sees people, if that’s what you’re after.”
I asked him where she lived, and after another long hesitation, he showed us on the map.
The witch’s property sat deep in the woods, and I could tell Hess was a bit nervous as we pulled up to the cabin.
The place was surrounded by wildflowers, and I could hear a low buzzing like someone humming in my ear.
A few women were draped across couches on the front porch, smoking cigarettes, one of them with a black eye.
She hollered into the house for someone named Belva, and a woman in her fifties with dark hair came out in her apron.
“How can I help you?” she asked.
Hess pulled the photo of Belle from her purse and held it up. “Do you remember this woman? She would have come here about thirty years ago, in July of 1982.”
The witch studied the photo and nodded her head. “Yes, ma’am, I remember her. My grandma was still around, and she talked to her. She’d tried to heal her mother, Aileen, and she told her the story.”
“Do you remember it?” Rhea asked.
She closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes.” She gestured for them to sit down, and the other women disappeared inside the house.
When she was settled, she took a deep breath and began.
“Hasil brought Aileen to my grandma when Aileen was about six months pregnant. She wasn’t sleeping or eating.
She told my grandma it was the family curse that was tormenting her.
Of course, she knew what she was talking about.
She’d heard from her own granny about it.
Aileen was just shy of her 33rd birthday, and it wouldn’t be long before it took her.
“Hasil asked my grandma if she could get rid of the curse. She’d done it before for others in the community: mostly little hexes people placed on each other when they’d had words and a few bigger curses put on by angry spirits. Those were tougher, but she’d always been able to pull it out of them.
“So she said yes. She lit the candles. She anointed Aileen with her most powerful stump water. She passed her hands from head to foot. When she made the final motion of the work, the candles snuffed out. In the darkness, she saw the outline of a figure looming above Aileen’s body.
Its voice slithered through her skull and said, Old woman, this ain’t your place. Do not try this again.
“She told me she was paralyzed for a while, staring out into the room, looking for that outline. But it was gone. When she could finally move, she relit the candles and woke Aileen up. Aileen was angry, and she told her she’d only made it worse.
“Grandma wanted to help her so badly, try to take away her pain. But it was bigger than her. She told Hasil the birth would probably get rid of it to give him peace of mind, and they left. She never saw Aileen again.”
I nodded, taking it all in. “What about you?” I asked the witch. “Do you think you could get rid of the curse?”
“Your mama asked the same thing. I wish I could help, but I wouldn’t dare.”
My blood went cold. “How’d you know she was my mother?”
The witch’s eyes crinkled in a sad smile. “I could taste it the moment you set foot on the property. Like rotten eggs in my mouth.” She paused, as if she wanted to say something else, then thought better of it. “How much time you got left?”
“Three days.”
“Lord have mercy,” she whispered. “You know, she asked about you. Asked if I could take the curse from a child before it had gotten its grip on them. But I told her it’d been inside you since the moment you were born.”
“Can you please just try? Please.”
“I told you no, and I meant it.”
“What about… what if I made a new deal with the devil? Could that work?”
The witch studied her. “Your mama tried that, too.” Same track. “Even if you did, the devil knows how to twist your words to get what he wants. You could end up in worse shape than you are now.” She gave me another long look. “You keep that in mind.”
“How would I talk to him?” I asked, ignoring her warning.
The witch sucked her teeth. “You go to a crossroads at midnight and think about what you want to tell him.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. People like to add all these bells and whistles, but the devil don’t make it hard. He’s always looking for new friends.”