Mama didn't open her eyes, didn't move her lips. I touched her face lovingly and called to her, but she didn't react. She doesn't hear me. I thought. It was what I had always feared. Facing the reality of Noble's death drove her down so deeply, her own body had become her coffin and she was about to close the lid on herself.
"Oh. Mama," I moaned, lowering myself to press my cheek to hers. "can't we live happily as we really are? Can't I be your Celeste again? Please. Mama."
My tears rolled off my cheeks and onto hers, but she didn't open her eyes. I felt the vibration of a moan within her, a vibration that sounded like a long, hollow N000000000! Then I stepped back, looked at her, and waited to see if she would react before I left the bedroom. I had to go. I had to calm down Betsy and &lire out some sort of solution until I could get Mama some help. Perhaps I would call Mr. Bogart, I thought. He would know what to do. Or I could call the Reverend Mr. Austin and his wife. Tani. They were so nice, so understanding. They would help us.
I'll tell Betsy my plan, I thought. It will calm her down to see I'm trying to do something.
When I went looking for her, I did find her in the kitchen. She had put up a pot of water and brought it to a boil. She heard me behind her and turned.
"Has the queen decided to play ball? Is she up and ready to make the call?"
"No. Betsy. I told you. She's not pretending. I've decided to call Mr. Bogart or the Reverend Austin and ask them for help. They'll know what we should do."
"Oh, is that your solution? Call her herb distributor or that silly reverend, who'll probably come here and make wonderful speeches about how lucky we all are to be together? Maybe she isn't pretending. Maybe she is crazy. but I'll snap her out of it. I have everyone waiting for me. Tad is getting it all together. We're leaving tomorrow after I get my money. Timers up." She put a pot holder around the pot handle, lifting the boiled water off the stove.
"You can't do that. She won't even know you're threatening her."
"Oh, she'll know. NI let a drop or two fall on her face and she'll suddenly see the light," Betsy said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Get out of my way or I'll throw it all on you." She brought the pot back and up, poised to cast the water at me.
"Please. Just give me the chance to get us help. It's the best way." "Move!" she shouted.
I had no doubt that she would throw that boiling water at me. I stepped aside and she walked quickly out of the kitchen with me following and cajoling her to be reasonable, to give me an opportunity to do the things she wanted.
She didn't respond or pause until she was halfway up the stairs. "If this doesn't work, then we'll go to your plan. but I think it's going to work. Trust me." Then she continued up, stopping about three steps from the top.
Baby Celeste had come out of her room and was standing glaring down at her. "Get that kid out of my way or I'll scald her."
"Celeste, get out of her way," I screamed, and hurried to catch up.
Rather than get out of Betsy's way, Baby Celeste held her arms out to prevent her from going past her and, to my shock and surprise, stepped down toward her, practically challenging her to attempt to go farther.
"She's as crazy as your mother," Betsy said, and brought the pot back to cast some of the boiling water at Baby Celeste.
I charged up the few steps that separated me from Betsy and seized her right arm.
"No!" I shouted, and wrenched her back. She missed a step, but the force of my pull sent her flying against the wall on my left. She hit it hard with her forehead, spun like a ballerina in the air, and then came down two steps below, her legs crumbling under her weight, sending her head over heels down the remaining steps. The pot of boiling water seemed suspended in midair for a moment, then came crashing down behind her, the water leaping out of the pot, some of it splashing on her legs. She landed at the bottom of the steps, her body twisted awkwardly so that her torso was going in one direction, but her head in the completely opposite. The pot clanged on the floor and rolled to a stop.
Betsy's right arm was turned and bent all the way back at the elbow. Her left arm had slapped against the step so hard. I could see that it had broken at her forearm, the jagged bone actually piercing the skin and starting a trickle of blood. I stared down at her, astonished at the strange ballet I had caused, a ballet I realized almost immediately was a dance of death.
I stood there in shock, not realizing for a good minute that Baby Celeste had come down the steps and taken my left hand into hers. She was staring at Betsy, too.
"Oh, my God," I said. "I think she's dead."
Then I realized Baby Celeste was there and I looked at her. She was as still as a statue, intrigued with the sight before her. I lifted her into my arms and slowly descended toward Betsy's broken body. Her eyes were still wide open, but had already taken on that glassy appearance of two marbles, no longer bringing any information into her head. They were now two snuffed candles, not even smoldering. Darkness had entered her and quickly drowned every thought, every memory. She was filled with silence.
"What are we going to do?" I moaned.
Baby Celeste stared down at her and then turned to me, her little eyelids blinking rapidly.
"Put her in the garden," she said.
The shock of her suggestion truly hit me like a bolt of lightning, but instead of making me feel hot, it drove the blood into my feet and turned my heart to ice. Still carrying Baby Celeste in my arms. I turned and ascended the stairway. Mama will know what to do. I thought. Mama will tell me. She has to wake up now She has to help me.
I entered the bedroom as quickly as I could and went to Mama's side. lowering Baby Celeste to the floor. She stood there beside me looking at Mama. I took Mama's hand in my two hands and went to my knees, lowering my head like someone in prayer.
"Mama, a terrible thing just happened. I tried to stop Betsy from throwing boiling water at Baby Celeste and coming up here to throw it at you. and I made her fall down the stairs.Im sure her neck's broken. Imm sure she's dead. Mama. She's dead. What should I do? Please. Mama. Please wake up and help me, help us. Please."
I waite