Gossamer Ties

Copyright © 2012 Neala Ames

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1-(866) 928-1240

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-7139-3 (e)

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/29/2012

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

For all the Maries of this world.

Prologue

Glory lay cooling on the damp Missouri soil. Above her the oak leaves whispered together in the gentle autumn breeze. Across the moon silver clouds scudded. The harsh scraping of a spade digging in the earth was the only sound foreign to the sleeping woodland.

Hidden in the shadows was a child. Her round eyes stared at the man laboring over the growing hole in the ground. Suddenly she bolted, fleeing through the bars of moonlight. When she reached her family’s sleeping cabin she fell to her knees beside the corner and grasped the weathered logs. No longer able to contain the sobs, they burst from her thin chest.

The moon was nearly set before she crept back to the hole. It was gone. Glory was gone. The man had stopped digging and was now spreading a layer of fallen leaves over where the hole had been. Puzzled, groggy with fatigue and shock, the little girl could only stare at the deliberate actions of the man as he covered the exposed soil. Lifting her eyes toward the retreating moon, her gaze caught in the white bark of the nearby sycamore. She shivered as the tree reached its thin arms to envelop her. Panicked, she sprinted through the shadows toward the cabin near the creek

Chapter One

Nan, what is that? Marie asked, pointing toward the sun-washed trees at the edge of her cousins’ pasture.

What? Nan asked helpfully, peering in the direction Marie pointed. "Our woods?

No, Marie giggled. I know what your woods are. I mean that white thing floating through the trees.

Nan stopped walking. She searched the acres of trees. Marie, I don’t see anything white. All I see is trees. C’mon, let’s get the cows.

On Marie’s other side Nan’s sister Lena also stared at the trees. I don’t see anything either. What did you see?

I don’t know what it was. It looked like a woman’s sheer scarf floating through the trees, but it was way bigger. Kinda like a curtain. But it was thin and I could see through it.

Hmmm, that’s strange. I’ve never seen anything like that. Maybe it was some sort of trash blow over from the neighbor’s property.

It’s not windy, Marie replied softly.

Do you still see it?

Marie narrowed her eyes. She could tell that neither of her cousins believed her. But she knew she had seen something. She knew it. She shook her head. No, it’s gone.

Well, it was probably just a trick of the light. Let’s go. We’ve got to get the cows milked.

Lena strode toward the three cows standing at the edge of the pasture. Bailey trotted beside her. Marie stood watching her oldest cousin as she walked away, her mind turning to the events that had brought her to stand in this hot pasture on a July afternoon.

Divorce had shattered her family the previous autumn. The image of her tearful mother seated in Uncle Devin’ kitchen begging him to take her children troubled Marie’s mind. That image had little in common with the black and white image of her mother standing proudly before one of the buildings on the Central Missouri State College campus. Slim and mannish in her tweed suit, that Carlene had smiled into the camera with obvious pride. But now the expression was gone, snuffed out by the perpetual look of bitterness that her mother wore like a mask. Gone also was Marie’s laughing red-haired father who took her on outings and shared her love for horses.

Years before Charles had taken Marie to visit an old family friend. While there he had taken his daughter out to the ruined stables and explained that the Addisons raised blooded horses there after the War Between the States. Now all that remained beneath the Osage orange trees were the skeletons of the decaying buildings and the faint odor of ghostly horses. Marie remembered the sadness that had taken her breath away. She had always been drawn to mournful things: deep shade, fog, cemetery stones. Lorena Addison’s regal bearing impressed Marie and she never forgot the elegant coolness of the widowed woman slowly dying inside her dying house with the stone lions guarding the double row of ancient maples.

A heavy sigh lifted Marie’s chest. She noticed her cousins far ahead, nearing the drowsy milk cows standing in the corner of the pasture. With a shake of her head to clear the memories she strode toward them. Nan spread her arms wide and approached the dozing animals. Mimicking Nan, Marie walked with both arms held at right angles to her body. The uneven ground beneath her feet kept her off balance. She could see one cow give her a wary look. The animal had horns that crooked down above her eyes. They looked very sharp. The cow reminded her of the bulls she had seen at the rodeo. Menacingly, she shook her head at Marie. Don’t worry. Red always does that. She’s just trying to bluff you! Nan called from twenty yards away. Walk toward her. She’ll turn.

Marie did as Nan instructed. Go, cow. Go that way, she said nervously. With her hands she made shooing motions. Shoo. Go that way.

Nan’s two cows were already walking sedately toward the barn. Red eyed their progress, then turned back to shake her head at Marie. Walk toward her! Nan urged. Suddenly Red stomped one front foot. She began to stride to Marie’s left. Go left! Go left! Nan shouted. Marie darted left. Red darted right. She charged around Marie and galloped toward the trees. Lena dashed forward, waving her arms and shouting. Marie stood still and let the red cow lope past her much as a dog would do. Bailey came running from behind Lena, tongue lolling, eyes lit with joy. He nipped the cow’s hocks. Bellowing, Red quickened her pace and seconds later was walking with her companions.

Lena stopped running. She’s a pest, she whispered into Marie’s ear. You did okay. Don’t worry.

She trotted to her sister’s side. Marie could tell that she was giving Nan an earful. They both looked back at her. Sorry I gave you Red, Nan called. Then she walked faster toward the ambling cows.

Lena held back to walk beside Marie. She did that on purpose. Nan’s not mean but she does like to tease people.

Uncle Devin’s like that too, Marie said. It’s okay.

Daddy is mean sometimes. It starts out teasing but it goes too far. I worry that Nan will grow up to be like him. Did Nan tell you what he did to Arliss yesterday?

No. What did he do?

She followed him to the door when he went to milk. She asked to help him. There’s nothing much a four-year-old can do but Daddy took her. Mom and I heard her screaming a few minutes later. When we got to the barn we found her soaking wet and stinking to high heaven. Nan was giggling beside Red. Daddy was laughing so hard he was sitting on the floor. He had told Lissy to hold the cow’s tail up so he wouldn’t get switched in the face.

What happened to her? Did the cow kick her? Marie asked.

No. The cow peed on her. Gallons.

Oh my gosh! Did Uncle Morgan know that would happen?

Lena looked at her cousin in surprise. Of course! That’s what I mean about his teasing being mean sometimes.

The two cousins fastened the barn door behind Nan and the cows. Lena showed Marie how to milk but the city girl wasn’t very successful. Lena milked her cow and then finished Marie’s. Nan emptied a bucket of feed into the trough. Each girl carrying a bucket of fresh, foaming milk they walked through the bright evening toward the milk house.

Go on down and candle the eggs, Lindy. Would you like to help her Marie? Jeanne asked when the three entered the kitchen. Lena immediately walked to the stove while Nan reached for the plates.

Sure, Marie answered, though not at all certain what candling eggs meant. Soon she stood beside her eight-year-old cousin in the damp cellar watching as the girl set an egg basket on the table beside a 60 watt bulb. Lindy plugged in the light, reached for an egg and held it over the bulb. She peered into the egg. This one is okay. Put it in the carton. Lindy handed the egg to Marie. Marie looked around for the egg cartons stacked against the cellar walls. She grabbed one and put the egg carefully in the cup. Lindy rapidly candled all eighty-seven eggs. Only two were questionable. Those she put back in the basket. Come on. Let’s go up.

Marie followed Lindy. The filled cartons remained in the coolest part of the cellar. Marie carried one partially filled carton onto the porch. Lindy passed by the door and headed toward the chicken yard. Where are you going? Marie asked, holding the door open with her backside.

In response Lindy threw the two eggs into the chicken yard. A dozen hens ran to the gooey mass and quickly devoured it. Marie stood watching, her mouth fallen open. She noticed that three of the hens in the enclosure were missing feathers. What’s wrong with those?

Lindy followed Marie’s pointing finger. The other hens pick on them. I don’t know why. Sometimes they kill each other and eat each other.

What? Marie exploded, her face twisted in an expression of horror. They eat each other?

Yeah. The pigs do that too.

That’s awful!

Yeah. But that’s life, the farm child replied fatalistically. She hung the egg basket from one of the fence supports. Mom’s calling. Let’s go eat.

Moments later everyone sat around the big dining table. Marie felt awkward, out of place. But her aunt and cousins included her so completely that she soon lost her uneasiness and enjoyed the lavish meal. After dinner the two older girls gathered the plates and pans. Marie leaped to help them. They spent almost thirty minutes washing, drying and putting away all the dishes. Then Lena turned to her visiting cousin. You want to be first in the bath?

Thanks. I’ll go get clean clothes.

Marie dashed up the stairs into her cousins’ large, square bedroom and returned with a clean short set. She walked into the new bathroom and ran a tub of water. Quickly she bathed, rinsed the tub and joined the family sitting in the living room watching Bonanza. Lindy and Arliss were already in bed. When The Andy Williams Show ended Marie and her cousins trooped up the stairs and within short minutes were in bed.

Nan switched on the table fan as she passed the dresser. Good night, Marie, Lena murmured from her bed. Nan stretched out beside her cousin and closed her eyes. Soon the sound of deep breathing surrounded Marie. She laid looking out the window toward the trees beyond the pasture. Finally, in the quiet, she could think about what she had pushed to the back of her mind during the busy hours of the day.

The family had driven from Kansas City that morning. Sitting beside Uncle Devin Marie watched the scenery whiz past her window. Behind her Aunt Evelyn sat crocheting and humming to herself. Sister Dawna dozed beside her. Devin stopped first at Grandma’s house in California to unload the supplies before taking Marie to her cousins’ house. Grandma’s house had always seemed far out in the countryside to city-born Marie. Perpendicular to the house was a narrow, low building that had been the stable and shelter for a flock of chickens. A smokehouse, outhouse, brooder house and rabbit hutches completed the structures. Beyond the chicken house was Grandma’s quarter-acre garden, now grown to weeds. In the back acre was a small orchard and overgrown cow pasture. When the Dodge station wagon came to a halt beneath the shade trees Marie eagerly swung the door open and leaped out. Help carry in, Marie! Evelyn’s voice ordered.

Devin opened the tailgate. Marie reached for the box of food, balanced it a second on the tailgate, then staggered toward the house. Evelyn had already unlocked the front door into the hall and was propping open the windows to freshen the stale interior air. The rooms were dim and cool. The uneven linoleum floor was evidence of the house’s many additions. Step from the porch into the hall, up into the dining room, down into the kitchen, up into the bedrooms. Marie walked carefully through the dining room to set the box beside the huge kitchen sink, opened the kitchen door and ran over the overgrown yard to the well. She pumped hard for fifteen seconds. Then a cold rush of water splashed over her hand. Gratefully she ducked her face under the flow. Marie! Don’t get all wet. Finish carrying in the supplies, her aunt demanded.

Marie wandered around the house to the car in time to catch Uncle Devin gazing at the deserted garden. Along the near fence twelve bushy peonies held evidence of prolific bloom. She touched the nearest papery remains. These were sure pretty this year.

Devin blinked away his thoughts and slid a look sideways to his niece. Your grandmother loved peonies. She grew the best of anyone in the area.

Mama says I’m like her, Marie confided.

Oh? In what way?

I love flowers and animals. Again Marie touched the spoiled flower head.

Yes, I’ve seen Mom out here many, many times just watching the birds. I remember once she shot her favorite barn cat because she caught him raiding a bird’s nest.

Oh! Marie breathed. That’s terrible. Poor kitty. It was only being a cat.

Devin chuckled softly. That’s what I said. But she disagreed with me. She said it was always the duty of the strong to protect the weak. She said even the weak were precious.

They stood silently listening to the birds in the rose hedge. Marie thought about her Grandmother Ehlers. She didn’t know much about the woman. What she did remember was a short, impatient person with abundant dark hair that never turned grey. Devin’s remark was at odds with her memory. Uncle Devin? Why was Grandma sad?

Devin’s head swiveled and he stared at his niece. What do you mean, she was sad?

I don’t know. She was sad. Marie sighed softly. I saw her cry.

When? Devin asked.

We visited here once, after Grandpa died. Grandma and Mama had an argument. It was about Daddy I think. He slammed the kitchen door and walked out to the cow pasture. Mama slammed out the front and drove away. I was out by the chicken house petting the chicks. I saw Grandma go into the garden. She picked some beans. Then she just stood there looking into the sun. She cried. When I asked Mama about it she said it was because Grandma always hated her. Did she, Uncle Devin?

Devin lifted both hands to rest on the stout corner post. He stared toward the far fence hidden by a thicket of thorny gooseberry bushes. Clearing his throat, he answered his niece. Carlene was never a happy child. Everything had to be her way. If she thought something was wrong she said so. If you didn’t agree with her she would punish you by silence. Forgiveness was never a strong characteristic of your mother even as a little girl. I think she thought our mother was weak, and weakness is unpardonable to your mother.

She thinks I’m weak too, Marie whispered confidentially.

Uncle Devin reached to pull Marie close. He smiled down into her pooling eyes. You’re not. You are very like your grandmother was.

Mama calls me Little Miss Priss, or Miss Spic and Span, or Pollyanna. I know she means I’m silly. Marie caught her breath to stop the sob. She blinked hard. She says I’m devious because I don’t like to fight. Uncle Devin, I wish Mama liked me!

Oh, Marie, don’t say that. Your mother loves you. She’d give her life for you, Devin countered.

I know. But she doesn’t like me. I’m not blaming her, Marie quickly explained. It’s like you said, she hates weakness. She called Daddy weak all the time. I heard her.

Devin released his hold. He turned to the station wagon. Let’s finish unloading and have a donut. I’d like to check the apples before we go to Jeanne’s. Want to come with me? With a grin of appreciation Marie reached for another box of food. Together uncle and niece unpacked the car and strolled into the kitchen.

Marie closed her eyes and drifted with the memory. She was shaken from her troubling thoughts by a sudden burst of cool air through the window. The breeze redirected her to the fun she was certain awaited her here with her cousins. First would be to ride the chestnut mare, Ladybird. There would be picnics, time to explore wooded acres, and hours of unfamiliar chores with her fun-loving cousins. Beside her Nan murmured in her sleep. Shhhhhh, Marie soothed. Nan rolled over, held her breath for a few seconds, then sighed and moved no more. With a matching sigh Marie rolled onto her back, closed her eyes and followed her cousin’s example.

She startled awake hours later. In her mind she saw again the menacing sky she’d been dreaming about. In the dream she searched through the smothering darkness for a person who had called her name. A long black funnel laced with icy green descended from the boiling cloud mass. It churned toward her. She knew she couldn’t run fast enough to escape. Still she tried. In her hands she clutched a metal box, encrusted with earth and time. Before she could reach the safety of the log house in the center of the yard she was caught by the whirling wind. It enveloped her with stinging gravel. The box was torn from her hand. She watched helplessly as it blew away. It skittered across the impossibly green lawn dotted with white clover. A young woman in her teens bent and picked it up. Her long dress whipped around her legs. Her small hands lovingly caressed the box. Mutely she gazed at Marie standing frozen before the approaching tornado. Her imploring eyes mesmerized Marie. Then she presented the box. One whispered word passed the dream girl’s lips: Marie.

In the stillness of the bedroom Marie again heard that same voice drifting through the darkness. Marie………

She raised herself on her elbow to peer around the room, searching for the girl who was calling. Her eyes caught the face of Lena’s alarm clock. It was after two. A flash of heat lightning lit the window. Though her heart was pounding she lay back down, careful not to disturb Nan beside her. Once more the whisper floated through the quiet room. Startled, Marie’s head whipped around. She stared at the doorway into the common hall. Another flash of heat lightning revealed the closed door. But nothing, no one, entered the dark room. Rolling onto her side, she put the door behind her. Mingo, she spoke to the fictional character in her mind, help me be brave like you are. I know there’s nothing there. But I’m scared anyway.

Staring through the window into the summer darkness, Marie looked at the lowering woods five hundred yards away. The blackness was complete. Now. The wisp she had seen at sundown tugged at her mind and would not release it. The misty floating veil seemed connected to the dream somehow. She worried the possibilities until she was exhausted. Nan’s even breathing finally lulled her back to sleep. While she slept the night dissolved around her.

After breakfast Nan disappeared. Marie helped Lena do the dishes. Lindy and Arliss put them away. When they finished Marie walked outside and looked toward the barn where Nan was waving excitedly. Come on! Dad’s waiting.

Waiting for what? Marie asked when she arrived at the open barn door.

You’ll see. It’s fun. C’mon!

Marie followed Nan around the barn. How are the kittens you showed me yesterday?

I don’t know. I didn’t look. We’ll look when we come back. Get in. Nan climbed into the bed of the pickup truck. Marie followed and found herself atop a load of ear corn. The hard cobs poked her legs. Morgan winked at her as he opened the truck door. The engine roared and in seconds they were bouncing over the pasture.

What…are…we…doing? Marie asked between bounces.

Hold on! Morgan shouted from the open driver window. Nan gripped the side of the truck. Marie reached to do the same but she didn’t have time to brace herself before the truck rolled through a dip in the pasture. She was nearly flung out of the bed. Nan grabbed her just in time.

Daddy likes to try and throw us out, Nan explained. He thinks it’s funny.

I think it’s dangerous!

You didn’t fall, did you? Just sit back and have fun, counseled Nan.

What are we doing? Marie asked again.

Taking corn to the pigs.

Where are they?

Out in the woods about a mile from the house. The truck stopped. Nan leaped from the bed and opened the gate. She pulled herself back in just as Morgan gunned the engine and the truck lurched forward. Nan peered through the trees. She pointed. See, there they are. Look through the trees.

What are they doing out here? Marie was obviously puzzled. Nan grinned.

They’re rooting for their supper. Pigs like to root around. They’re real smart animals and if you don’t keep them busy they do a lot of damage. Out here they can dig all the holes they want. Look, there’s one of their wallows.

Marie looked where Nan pointed. All she saw was a shallow pool of muddy water. What’s a wallow?

Where they cool off. Pigs hate to be hot.

Marie giggled. Maybe I’m a pig. I sure do hate to be hot!

Nan gave her a shove and laughed. Get ready to throw the corn. Now! Suuuuuuu-eeeeeee! Nan called. She launched five ears of corn over the pickup’s fender. Marie copied her cousin. Morgan drove slowly and the girls soon emptied the bed. Through the trees a dozen hogs trotted rapidly. Hungrily they fell on the field corn. Marie watched as their strong jaws bit the tough cobs in two and munched happily. Drool and bits of corn dribbled from their lips. I never knew pigs had such big teeth, she observed, thinking about the conversation with Melinda.

Yeah, they can bite you bad, Nan said. But the babies are really cute.

Do you have any babies now?

Nope. See that black sow over there? She might have some piggies before you go home. Her udder is swollen.

I hope so! I want to see one, Marie said brightly.

Morgan leaned out of the truck window. You girls want to walk back home or do you want a wild ride? Instantly Marie scrambled out of the truck. Morgan laughed delightedly. Okay, then. I’ll see you girls back at the house.

He gunned the engine again and bounced recklessly through the trees. Marie watched as he dodged the thick trunks. Nan punched her arm. Let’s go. He’ll be fine. He likes to do stuff like that.

Slowly the girls walked through the shady woods. They didn’t talk and Marie was able to let her mind wander. She pretended Mingo was walking beside her. She glanced over to the right and nodded as though she was acknowledging him. In her mind she saw him nod back. He saluted her with his long fingers, the muscles of his arm bulged by the action. Marie sighed in contentment. She wondered what it would feel like to be hugged by those arms. Suddenly she realized that Nan was gone. She stopped walking. Nan? Lena’s warning revived to make her uneasy. Nan, are you trying to scare me?

Nan burst through the trees to her right. Come here, I want you to see something. Come on!

Her eyes narrowed in doubt, Marie followed her cousin. Nan stopped after a few hundred yards. I wanted to be sure this was where I saw it. It is. Come over here.

Marie didn’t budge. I don’t trust you.

Nan sighed impatiently. I’m not fooling with you. Come here!

Step by step Marie advanced to Nan’s side. Nan pointed toward a stunted sycamore thirty feet away. The round trunk was a smooth white. Splotches of thin grey bark dappled the white. Look there. See it? In the side of the tree.

What?

The face! Don’t you see it? Nan’s eyes were wide. In the filtered sunlight her ginger freckles popped out all over her cheeks and nose.

What face?

There! Look about half-way up. See….there’s the eyes, wide open. And the mouth open too. There’s even hair going up away from the forehead. Can’t you see it?

Marie narrowed her eyes again and stared at the trunk. The pattern of blotches did resemble a face. She tilted her head for a better view. Nan reached out and pulled her close. Again she pointed. Look now. This is a better angle. See it?

Two bulging eyes stared at the girls. The mouth was open in a silent scream. Locks of wild hair seemed to blow in a ghostly breeze. A shiver ran through Marie’s sweaty body. I see it!

Lena wouldn’t even look. She’s such a scaredy cat. But I knew you’d see it. Nan breathed rapidly beside Marie.

I wonder what it is? whispered Marie.

"I think it’s an old Indian that got trapped in the tree when a witch put him there. You know there