Jessie 2004 – ten years old
I heard Samuel before I saw him. I’d made Albert come out to the barn to help me put Ezzie’s saddle on because I couldn’t do it by myself. I wasn’t tall enough to get it on her back, and I could never cinch it tight enough either. Eddy always saddled her for me and he’d let me try the cinch myself. Every single time I’d think I had it right, and every single time he’d test me by pulling on the straps. The whole saddle would slide around and end up sideways.
“You’re not quite strong enough just yet,” he’d tell me, pulling the wide strap though the metal rings again and tightening it up. “You’ll get there.”
I couldn’t ask Eddy this time, though. And I definitely couldn’t ask Grandpa. I wanted to ride up to the old church and neither one of them would let me do that alone. It was a long way up the mountain, and I wasn’t allowed to go further than the end of the pasture by myself.
I got the saddle off the sawhorse and carried it over to Ezzie’s stall. It was a lot heavier than it looked. The stirrups drug on the ground and banged against my legs. Albert was scratching Ezzie’s ears, paying no attention as usual.
“Albert, help me,” I said, letting the saddle slide into the floor. Dust and hay bits poofed up into the air. “I can’t do this myself, remember?”
He looked over at me. “Do what?” he said.
“Put her saddle on!”
“Oh,” he said, and picked it up off the floor. “Hold still,” he told Ezzie, and slung it easily onto her back. Albert was as tall as Eddy, and way older. He just didn’t act like it. She flattened her ears, annoyed at him, but didn’t move.
“I don’t know how to tie it on,” he said.
“You don’t tie it, you cinch it. I can do that, but I don’t think I can get it tight enough,” I told him. “Move.”
He stepped back, and I ran the leather cinch through the rings, careful to do them in the right order, and then tied the knot. I pulled the strap as hard as I could, but I could tell it was still too loose. Ezzie looked over her shoulder at me and shook her head.
“Just pull on these places so it’s really tight,” I said, showing him where. He pulled on each spot, and I checked by hanging off the saddle horn. The saddle stayed put and I smiled at Albert.
“That’s good!” I told him. “That’s as tight as Eddy gets it.”
He beamed at me. I didn’t mention that he really ought to know how to do this by now. Grandma always told us that Albert was special and we had to treat him differently than we did other grown ups. He needed a lot of praise and we shouldn’t upset him. If you upset Albert he’d pitch an absolute fit. He cried way more than I did. Ordinarily he was sweet natured, though, and easy to get along with. Even if it did usually seem like he was from another planet.
I got the bridle on without any trouble. Ezzie never minded that, and would put her head down so I could do it by myself
“We’ll take her outside and I’ll get on her there,” I told him. “I think you’ll need to give me a boost up, though.” I couldn’t wait to get taller.
“Okay,” said Albert, and pulled on the reins gently. “Let’s go, Ezzie!”
We were going out the door when I heard tapping coming from underneath Samuel’s big pile of junk over in the far corner of the barn. Tapping and humming. I knew it was Samuel. I also knew he was supposed to be up in his room doing the extra homework he got for skipping three algebra classes in a row. He wouldn’t tell us where he went instead of class. I expected Grandpa to be a lot madder at him about it. So did Ben.
“I’d be locked upstairs the rest of my life if he caught me doing that,” Ben said the night the principal called Grandpa. We were in the living room arguing about whose turn it was to pick a TV show. “I’d never be allowed to leave the house again. But when the Golden Child skips class he just gets patted on the shoulder and told to do his homework.”
“Well, you better not get caught doing that then, ” Samuel said. DELETE SPACE BEFORE QUOTATION MARKS; ALSO ADD MAYBE SAMUEL SAID *TO HIM* TO EMPHASIZE HE’S TALKING TO BEN HERE He said it like he was joking but he wasn’t smiling. “And I’m not the golden child. Trust me, you’re better off being you.”
Then he went up to his room even though he’d won the what-to-watch argument and Eddy had switched over to that UFO special on the Discovery channel.
Albert and Ezzie and I changed direction and went over to the pretend Time Machine instead of going out the door. I could see Samuel’s dirty white Keds sticking out from underneath it. I didn’t understand the time machine. Ben said there was nothing to understand, it was just Samuel being weird, as usual. Eddy said it wasn’t real but it didn’t hurt anybody and kept Samuel out of trouble. Joel said Samuel could do anything and one day he’d get it to work. It was a big pile of smashed together pieces from machinery parts and old junk. He’d been messing with it for so long that I could hardly remember it not being in the barn.
“What are you doing under there?” I asked. The tapping didn’t stop and I could still hear him humming. I reached down and jiggled his ankle. He jerked his foot away and something out of sight crashed. CRASHED TOO LOUD A NOISE HERE?
“Dammit,” I heard him say, and then he came sliding out from underneath the big pile of metal rubbing his head. He was wearing his Walkman and pulled the little headphones off as he sat up and looked at us. Ezzie sniffed his hair, and he rubbed her nose.
“Hey Samuel,” said Albert cheerfully. “You aren’t supposed to say dammit.”
“Are you supposed to say dammit?” Samuel asked him. Albert shook his head. “No.”
“Well then. We’ll just forget any of us said it,” Samuel told him. “You scared me. I had my headphones on and didn’t hear you guys.”
“Jessie shook your leg,” Albert told him.
“Sorry,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“Just mildly concussed,” he said, smiling at me. He looked at Ezzie and her saddle, then looked back at me. “Are you going somewhere?”
“No,” I said.
“You seem to have saddled up Ezzie and it does look like you were headed out the door before you decided to give me a heart attack.”
“I’m just going for a ride around the pasture,” I said. “Albert helped me with the saddle. I couldn’t find Eddy.”
“You know Eddy’s upstairs doing his homework,” Samuel said. “And you always twirl your hair around your finger like that when you’re not telling the truth.”
I quit twirling my hair around my finger. “Well you’re supposed to be upstairs too doing all that extra math stuff,” I said.
“Right,” he said. He looked at me. I glared back at him. Albert scratched Ezzie’s ears and stared at the air over our heads.
“Have a good ride,” Samuel said finally, and tickled Ezzie under the chin. She snorted and started for the door, pulling Albert along with her. I ran after them before he could say anything else.
Albert gave me a boost into the saddle, and I headed Ezzie up the hill beside the barn. That part of the pasture ended at the woods way above the house, where I wasn’t supposed to go alone. I was diverting attention. You could still see us from the house and I wanted to be sure it looked like I was just riding the big loop around the far edges of the pasture. I nudged Ezzie with my heels and she broke into a reluctant bouncy trot, jerking at the reins in annoyance.
“Sorry Ez,” I said to her. “We need to get this over with so we can get to the good part.”
She glanced back at me and rolled her eyes.
“It is not a bad idea,” I said. “Nobody will suspect a thing and it will be fun!”
She gave me one of her annoyed snorts.
“Well, you’re not the one that will get into trouble if they catch us,” I said. “You get to have the fun without the consequences. No worries for you!”
Ezzie’s jarring trot got us to the old wire fence at top of the field pretty fast. That’s where the dark thick woods started. And it was almost where we were going. But first we had to go down through the pasture again as a decoy. I turned Ezzie around and we headed back along the edge of the woods, close to the fence. Riding beside the fence moved us farther away from the barn and the house as we went down the hill. Finally we came to the nearly hidden narrow stretch of grass where the pasture took a curve back towards the mountain, and then we were out of sight of anyone who might be watching.
I knew where the trail started because I’d walked it with my brothers the year before. I’d always wanted to ride Ezzie up there but knew better than to ask. The pasture was my limit. We stopped at the old overgrown gate that closed with a rusty chain looped over a hook. I was afraid if I got off Ezzie I wouldn’t be able to get back on again, but when she stopped and stood quietly beside the gate I realized I could use it to remount. I slid off, pulled the gate back far enough for Ezzie to get through, then drug it shut and hooked it again.
Once we were past the gate and I had climbed back onto Ezzie we headed up the trail. It was overgrown 2 MENTIONS OF OVERGROWN (WORD) IN SUCCESIVE PARAGRAPHS HERE and full of rocks and limbs so we went slow. The trees crowded in on both sides of us, reaching out with their gnarly arms. I kept having to duck so they wouldn’t hit me in the face. It didn’t take long to reach the old road. That was rocky too, full of potholes and weeds growing up in the middle. We had to stop a few times and pick our way around big fallen trees that were blocking the road. Being alone in the woods made me nervous. I could hear skittering creatures in the leaves and my own heart beating above the sound of Ezzie’s hooves crunching on the rocks and hard dirt. I tried not to think about how the skittering might be bears, or mountain lions, or wolves. I kept telling myself it was just squirrels. Ezzie would surely realize if there were bears or mountain lions or wolves that close. Realize, then run away, and I’d probably fall off and get eaten by some wild COMMA? bloodthirsty creature.
My favorite teacher at school, Miss Peake, told us if we were thinking about things that made us nervous or worried or sad, that we should redirect our thoughts. Think about something else so the thing that bothered you would fade away. Worrying about falling off Ezzie and getting eaten by a bear seemed like a good time to redirect my thoughts.
I had a purpose for this ride. I wanted to see the old church on top of Snake Mountain because that time I’d walked up there with my brothers I didn’t know anything about it. At least not the important things. Eddy said I’d been there a bunch of times when I was a baby. That was where we went to church a long long time ago. Of course I didn’t remember. It was what Grandma said yesterday that made me want to go see it again. To see what was there and how it felt.
I’d been sitting on the porch swing reading “The Road to Oz” ITALICS HERE INSTEAD? when Grandpa came up the front steps. He’d been down at the barn.
“What’s that you’re reading?” he asked. He paused to look at the cover, a big orange pumpkin house with windows and Jack Pumpkinhead peering out of the door. He frowned a little.
“It’s one of the Wizard of LEAVE OUT?: WIZARD OF Oz books,” I told him. The church said we weren’t supposed to read books about fantasy or magic or witches and wizards, but he made an exception for The Wizard of Oz. EMPHASIS He’d seen it at the movies way back when he was a kid, and he let us watch it every year when it came on television.
“One of them?” he asked. “I thought there was just the one. Dorothy and the tornado.”
“There are a bunch of them!” I said. “Dorothy goes back to Oz for Ozma’s birthday in this one, with the Shaggy Man and Button Bright.”
He looked at me blankly. “I did not know there were more of those stories,” he said.
“I remember them,” Albert said. He was standing right inside the screen door, watching us. “They came from the library.”
“Who was reading them?” I asked. “Did Eddy read them? He never told me that.”
“She used to read them,” he said. “She would read them to me sometimes. I remember that rainbow woman. That was her favorite.” Then he stopped, and looked at Grandpa.
“Grandma read them to you?” I asked. “Why didn’t she read them to us?”
“No, not her,” Albert said.
Suddenly Grandma pushed the door open from behind Albert and came out onto the porch.
“Albert, have you fed the horse yet?” She was looking at Grandpa, not at Albert.
“No ma’am,” he said.
“Well go do it right now,” Grandma said.
“Who was reading the Oz books?” I asked. “Who’s he talking about?”
Grandma and Grandpa were looking at each other. Albert jumped down the stairs and ran towards the barn like he was escaping.
“They need to know,” Grandma said to Grandpa. Her voice was calm but her eyes weren’t.
“They do not,” Grandpa said. “It’s not time.”
“Not time? ADD?: SHE SAID (TO INDICATE GRANDMA IS TALKING BACK STILL) When IS the time? Will it be time after the same thing happens to Samuel because you are a stubborn old fool who believes he has all the answers? How on earth do you think this is going to end differently?”
“I know what we are meant to do,” Grandpa said. “She paid the price for doubting it. Samuel will not. This is how we make it right.”
They were glaring at each other, neither one of them moving. I suddenly thought of our cats fighting, facing off with their ears flat, ready to attack. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so scary.
“You are not taking him to that church,” Grandma said. “You promised that you wouldn’t. I won’t stand for it.” Her face was white. She had her hands clenched. I tried to make myself even smaller in the swing.
“Opal, we have to let the Lord take control,” Grandpa said. His voice was oddly gentle. “That’s more important than what I promised. He only wants the best for all of us. This is what He means for Samuel to do. It will set everything right again.”
Grandma drew a breath just as The Road to Oz QUOTES OR ITALICS HERE fell off my lap and landed with a thud onto the porch. They both turned towards me. ADD? IT’S AS IF They’d forgotten I was there.
“Jessie, go inside,” Grandpa said. “Right now. This is not your concern.”
“What church?” ADD? I SAID I scrabbled for my book.
“It is her concern,” said Grandma. “It concerns them all, and you can’t keep hiding what happened up there.”
I knew she meant the church on the mountain. I clutched the book tight against my chest, wanting to run away like Albert but wanting to know what they meant even more.
“The old church,” Grandma said. “The one we used to go to. The one where your…”
“THAT’S ENOUGH”, Grandpa boomed, making us both jump. “We are not having this conversation and if you do not get inside of that house immediately, Jessie, I will get the belt.”
The belt was all the threat I needed. I ran for the door and let it slam behind me, leaving them still facing each other down.
Redirecting my thoughts had taken my mind of CHG: OFF getting eaten by wild animals, but I was getting tired, and so was Ezzie. She walked slower and slower, and I wished I’d remembered to pack something to eat. And something to drink. I knew better than to drink out of a stream because our Health teacher had given us a lesson about all the icky invisible things in mountain streams that would make you sick if you drank the water, but I was getting thirsty enough to not care. I didn’t remember it being so far. The sun was suddenly a lot lower in the sky and I was going to be in really big trouble if anyone realized I was still gone at supper time. I was starting to wonder if we should just give up and turn around when Ezzie pricked her ears up and turned sideways in the old road, looking behind us to where it disappeared around a curve.
“What are you doing?” I said to her, pulling on the reins. “What is it?” She looked happy about whatever was back there, at least. She wouldn’t look happy about a bear.
When Samuel came around the corner I was too relieved to be mad at first. He waved at us, and then I got mad.
“You followed us!”
“I did,” he said, catching up and patting Ezzie’s neck. “Somebody told me you were just going to ride around the pasture, yet here you are out in the middle of the woods.” He smiled at me, but his eyebrows were scrunched up. “What are you doing up here?”
“None of your business,” I told him. I nudged Ezzie with my heels but she just stood there letting Samuel pet her.
“It’s kind of my business,” he said. “You’re ten years old. You can’t just go wandering off up the mountain by yourself.”
HOW OLD IS SAMUEL?
Samuel was looking at me with that expression he’d always get when he was trying not to laugh, but there was something else too. Something serious.
“I want to know what happened,” I told him. “Everyone is always keeping secrets.”
“That’s true,” he said. “So you’re going up to the old church?”
“Yep,” I said. “You need to get out of our way.”
“What do you think you’ll find?” he asked. That was a good question. I thought about it.
“I don’t know,” I finally told him. “But I do know it’s got something to do with what happened to her. Our mom.”
It was weird to say that. Our mom. I was a baby when she died. She’d always just been a big empty space, and that tiny photo on the bookshelf. A space everyone pretended wasn’t there.
Samuel stood looking up at me for a minute, scratching Ezzie’s ears.
“Can I go with you?” he asked. “It’s kind of a long way to go by yourself.”
I considered it. I’d wanted to go on my own but having somebody who could maybe keep me from getting eaten by a bear seemed like a good idea. And Samuel would also keep me from getting in too much trouble if Grandma and Grandpa found out. Samuel could get away with anything. He’d make sure I got away with it too.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess so.”
“Good answer!” he said, and tugged at Ezzie’s bridle. She snorted and tossed her head, but followed him.
“You can ride with me,” I said. “There’s room for both of us.”
“Ezzie might dispute that,” he said. “It’s okay, I like to walk.”
We didn’t say anything else for awhile. I was thinking about the secrets. Our dad was dead too – he died in a car wreck before I was even born – but we knew what had happened to him. His name was Robert. Grandpa said he’d been drinking, and drinking was a very bad thing. Eddie had an old watch that belonged to him. It didn’t run and he kept it in a cigar box with his other special things. A few arrowheads, an old matchbox race car, a cracked compass. He wasn’t a mystery like our mom was. Nobody ever talked about her. Nobody ever said what happened.
Samuel pulled a canteen of water and some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of his backpack. He passed one up to me as we walked.
“I had to sneak those out of the kitchen,” he said. “I was afraid you’d get hungry, though. It’s a long trip.”
“I am hungry,” I said. “I didn’t think to bring anything. Thanks.”
It seemed to take forever to get there. It was warm and all the bugs in the woods were buzzing. Once I’d eaten my sandwich Ezzie’s rocking gait started making me sleepy. I was thinking I better get down and walk before I fell off when Samuel reached up and took hold of her bridle.
“There it is,” he said.
I could see it through the trees. It looked like I remembered. Not very big for a church, but definitely more like a real church than the community center where we went now. It had a tall steeple that was tilting sideways a little, and dark pointy windows, and rock steps up to the door. The steps were missing big hunks. Samuel led us into the weedy COMMA?overgrown yard.
“Can we go inside?” I asked. We’d just looked at the outside of it last summer. Eddy said it was too dangerous to go inside.
Samuel stared up at it for a minute with his head cocked a little sideways. “Sure,” he finally said.
He helped me slide off Ezzie and tied her reins to one of the metal rails that were cemented into the steps, close to the bottom so she could reach the tall grass. I started up and he put a hand on my arm. I was a couple of steps above him so AGE? we were eye to eye.
“First, you have to promise me you’ll be careful. No dashing off by yourself in there. It’s a big mess, and the floors are probably rotting out. Plus no telling what kind of creatures have turned it into their home.” His green eyes were staring right into mine. I felt a little shiver. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.
“Ok,” I said. OKAY? “I promise.”
“Good,” he said. “Although Ben would be much more of a worry than you are, honestly. BEN’S AGE HERE? Still, if anything happens to you Grandpa will kill me. I won’t ever be able to go home again.”
He gave me a kind of funny look, then said, “Let’s go!” And headed up the steps so fast I had to take two at a time to keep up with him.
He paused at the big wooden door like he was listening for something, then turned the handle. I was afraid it would be locked, but the door creaked open when he pulled on it. I tried to see LOOK? around him, but it was so dark inside I couldn’t see MAKE OUT? anything.
“Hang on,” he said. He rummaged around in his pack, then pulled out a flashlight. NO NEW PARAGRAPH?
“Always be prepared!” he said, and turned it on. There was a little entryway in front of us, separate from the rest of the church. The flashlight beam lit it up and I could see leaves and dirt and cobwebs all over the place.
“Ewww,” I said. The cobwebs were enormous, hanging down nearly to Samuel’s head, and I didn’t want to think about how big the spiders must be.
“We don’t have to go inside,” Samuel said, looking down at me. “We can just give it a look from here.”
“No, I want to go in. I’m not scared,” I said. I was a little scared.
“Of course you’re not,” he said. “I don’t think you’re scared of anything.”
I knew that wasn’t true – I was scared of everything – but it made me happy that Samuel thought I was brave.
“Come on, let’s see what we’ve got here,” he said, and let LED the way through the leaves and dirt and cobwebs, picking his way along carefully. I followed as close behind him as I could get. I wanted to grab onto his shirt but that wouldn’t be brave.
When we got through the entranceway and to the row of pews closest to the door we could see a lot better. There was so much light coming through the big broken windows on both sides of the church that Samuel turned the flashlight off. It was a mess, pews on their sides and turned over backwards, beer cans and bottles and all sorts of trash in the floor.
“Wow,” I said. “What happened?”
Samuel was looking around slowly. He took so long to answer that I’d opened my mouth to ask him again when he finally said, “Everybody left.”
“How come?” I asked. He looked at me.
“You were just a baby, way too little to remember this place. I barely remember it. I think I was about six when they stopped having services here. GOOD TO HAVE YEARS OF AGE HERE Well, not only stopped – they deserted it. Obviously.”
“But why?”
He didn’t answer, just picked his way up the middle aisle, past the crazy pews and through the leaves and papers and stuff. I pushed a book that was open facedown on the floor with my sneaker. Its pages were torn and damp. It was a hymnal, but not the one our church used now. I bent down for a closer look and Samuel said, “Be careful – no telling what’s hiding under all this stuff.”
I stepped around the book and followed him up to what used to be the stage. STAGE? (BUT I THINK A KID LIKE JESSIE MIGHT CALL IT THAT, NO MATTER WHAT THE OFFICIAL NAME (CHANCEL)) The pulpit was knocked over, like everything else. I saw a few pieces of loose paper off to one side and picked up one that didn’t look like anything would be waiting underneath it to jump out at me.
“September 18, 1994,” I read. “Was that the last time they had church here?”
“It must have been,” Samuel said. He looked over my shoulder. “That sounds about right. They just left everything here that last day. This looks like somebody’s notes.”
“Why did they do that? Leave it all?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, reading the notes. “They’ve got Grandpa listed as the preacher. I can’t make out their scribbles about the sermon, though. This handwriting is worse than Ben’s, and the ink’s nearly faded away.”
He sat down on the edge of the stage, and after trying to knock some of the dust off I sat down beside him. He folded up the notes and stuck them in his pack.
“Do you think Grandpa would tell us what happened?” I asked. “He must have been here that day.”
“Don’t ask him,” he said, so sharply I flinched. “For one thing we aren’t supposed to be here. And you know he doesn’t talk about the snake church. He doesn’t want you…us…to know about it. About what went on. You don’t need to know. It isn’t good. Wasn’t good.”
DEAL WITH “…” PROBLEMS LATER
“Do you know what went on?” I could tell he knew what went on. He wouldn’t look at me, just stared off at one of the broken windows. He sighed, and said, “I know enough. And I hate to play the ‘you’re too young’ card kiddo, but you are too young. It’s way too much, and things are going to have to settle down before we can talk about them.”
“What do you mean, settle down? What things? Is something happening? Is it about you?”
He finally looked over at me and gave a little laugh. “Jesus, Jessie, you are too smart for your own good. Nobody is pulling anything over on you, are they?” He rumpled my hair up, which normally would make me mad, but the look on his face worried me. He seemed far away and tired and it scared me.
“It is about you, isn’t it? That’s what I heard Grandma and Grandpa arguing about. About Grandpa taking you to the church, and Grandma was mad about it and said the same thing would happen to you…what thing? What’s going to happen to you?” My eyes were stinging and I swiped at them. Samuel stared at me, then hopped down off the stage. He stood in front of me so we were face to face, and took hold of my hands.
“Listen to me,” he said, staring right into my eyes again. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, Jessie, not right now. But I can tell you that everything will be fine. Nothing is going to happen to me, I’m making sure of that.”
“What would happen? How are you making sure?”
“I can’t tell you that either, but I’ve got a plan. An escape route. And some help.” He grinned at me, looking more like our normal COMMA cheerful Samuel. “Grandpa does want me to do something with the church, and I don’t want to do it. It’s really important to him. You know how he is. Everything’s supposed to be like he wants it to be. He thinks he’s always right and that God’s telling him what to do, so he has no choice but to do it.”
“You don’t think God’s telling him what to do?” I was afraid to even ask that for fear God would strike me down, or Grandpa would read my mind and get the belt.
“No. I don’t. I know Grandpa believes it, but I don’t think it’s true. I can’t let him force me to be this person he thinks I am. I’m not that person.”
I couldn’t do anything but stare at him. The idea that Grandpa might be wrong was crazy. We all knew Grandpa was never ever wrong. GOOD KID THOUGHT
He was still holding my hands and squeezed them, almost too hard.
“One day I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “I promise. But not yet. I just want you to know that it will be okay, and you don’t have to worry. No matter how things turn out. Even if someday I’m not around to remind you.”
“Why wouldn’t you be around?” My eyes were stinging again. He let go of my hands and said, “No reason! None at all! I just mean one day you’ll be grown up and off on adventures of your own and you’ll leave all us behind. Jessie the Magnificent!”
He grabbed me and swung me down from the stage so fast it made me laugh.
“Come on,” he said, “we better get back home or I’m going to be in big trouble yet again! Me, not you, of course. You’re just an innocent little girl and would never run off alone to a haunted church on the mountain!”
QUESTION: IS CHURCH RIGHT ON TOP OF MTN.?
I laughed as we hurried out the door and into the sunshine, glad to be getting out of there and leaving the ghosts behind. Ezzie looked up at us and nickered, stomping a foot like she was agreeing. As Samuel gave me a boost onto the saddle I looked back at the church one more time, then we were headed off back down the old road a lot quicker than we’d come up it.