The sin eater will follow us to the cemetery and then eat and drink all yer granny’s sins so she wilna walk these hills no more.”
My heart shuddered inside me at the thought.
That night I didn’t sleep much, so I lay there, listening to the hoot of the owl outside. Whooo? Who is the sin eater? Whooo? Who will Granny see first now she’s gone to the hereafter? Whooo? Who would come take my sins away?
The next day was no better as I watched everyone gather. Three uncles and their wives and Aunt Winnie and her husband had arrived. The cousins wanted to play, but I had no heart for it. I hid myself in the shadows of the house and kept vigil over Granny. When they finally laid her in her grave, I wouldn’t see her anymore. Leastwise, not until I met my maker.
Mama didn’t send me out again, but she sat in the spring sunshine with the aunts. Jillian O’Shea had a new girl baby at her breast, and most were gratified that the babe’s given name was Gorawen. I heard someone say it was God’s way to give and to take away. A Gorawen comes and a Gorawen goes.
I took no comfort in those words.
From my dim corner, I saw every member of Granny’s family and all her friends come to pay respect to her. And they all brought something to share with the others be it whiskey, sweet potatoes for roasting, corn cakes, molasses sweet bread, or salted pork for the stew pot burbling over the fire.
“You’ve got to eat summat, child,” Gervase Odara said to me halfway through the second day. I put my head on my arms, refusing to look at her or answer. It didn’t seem right to me that life should go on. My granny lay dead, dressed in her finest clothes, ready for burial, but people talked and walked and ate as always.
“Cadi, my dear,” Gervase Odara said. “Your granny had a long living.”
Not long enough to my way of thinking.
I wondered if I would’ve felt better if Granny had told me herself what was to come. Thinking back, I figure she knew. Leastwise, I think she prayed for the end to come like it did, with me somewheres else. Instead of saying she was dying, she sent me chasing after spring beauties and departed this life while I was gone.
Only Iwan seemed to understand my hurt. He came inside and sat with me on Granny’s cot. He didn’t try to get me to eat or talk. He didn’t say Granny was old and it was her time to die. He didn’t say time would heal my wounds. He just took my hand and held it, stroking it in silence. After a while, he got up and left again.
The Kai family came the second day. I could hear the father, Brogan Kai, outside, his voice deep and commanding. The mother, Iona, and her children came in to pay their respects to Mama and my other relatives. Iona Kai’s son Fagan entered and went no further than Granny, viewing her solemnly in all her finery. He was the same age as Iwan, near fifteen, but seemed even older with his quiet demeanor and grim countenance. His mother had brought corn cakes and some jars of watermelon pickles to share. She gave them to one of my aunts and sat for a few minutes with Mama, speaking quietly to her.
As the sun went down, people spoke more and more quietly until no one spoke at all. I felt the difference in the house. The quiet apprehension had given way to a darkness heavier to bear. Granny’s death had brought something into the house no words could describe. I could feel it gathering and closing in around us like the night, tighter and tighter as the day died.
Fear, it was.
Papa came to the open doorway. “It’s time.”
Gervase Odara came to me and hunkered down, taking my hands firmly in hers. “Cadi, you must listen. Do not look at the sin eater. Do you understand me, child? He has taken all manner of terrible things unto himself. If you look at him, he’ll give you the evil eye, and some of the sin he carries might spill over onto you.”
I looked up at Mama. She stood in the lamplight, her face strained, her eyes closed. She would not look at me even then.
Gervase Odara took my chin and tipped my face so I had to look her in the eyes again. “Do you understand me, Cadi?”
What good would it do now, I wanted to say. Granny is already gone. It was cold flesh that remained, not the part of her that mattered. All anyone had to do was look at her to know her soul had departed. How could anyone come now and make things right? It was done. Finished. She was gone.
But Gervase Odara persisted until I nodded. I didn’t understand anything then, and the reckoning didn’t come until a long time later. Yet, the healer’s manner sapped my courage. Besides, I had learned better than to ask for explanations by then. I had heard of the sin eater, though in no great detail. One did not speak often or long of the most dreaded of mankind.
“He will take your granny’s sins away, and she will rest in peace,” Elda Kendric said from close by.
And would he come and take my sins away? Or was it to be my fate to take them with me to my grave, tormented in hell for what my mean spirit had caused?
My throat closed hot and tight.
Whatever secret sins had burdened Granny were betwixt her and the sin eater, who would take them from her. There would never be rest for me. There was not a soul present who did not know what I’d done. Or thought they did.
“Stand with your mother, child,” my father told me. I did so and felt the slightest touch of her hand. When I looked up with a longing so deep my heart ached, she spoke softly and broke off a sprig of the rosemary she carried.
“Toss this into the grave when the service is done,” she said without looking at me.
Four men lifted Granny and carried her out the door. Papa carried a torch and led the procession up the path to the mountainside cemetery. The night air seemed colder than usual, and I shivered walking alongside my mother. Her face was still and bleak, her eyes dry. Others carried torches to light our way. A full moon was up, though it was obscured by a thick layer of mist seeping in through the notch in the mountains. It looked like dead-white fingers reaching for us. Dark shadows danced between the trees as we passed, and my heart thumped madly, gooseflesh rising when I felt another presence join our procession.
The sin eater was there, like a cold breath of wind on the back of my neck.
Papa and his brothers had built a fence around the cemetery to keep wolves and other critters from digging. Granny once told me she liked the ground Papa had selected. It was a high place where those laid to rest would be dry and safe and have a grand view of the cove below and heaven above.
I entered the gate just after my mother and took my place at her side. My Aunt Winnie carried the tray on which was the bread Mama had baked and the mazer of elderberry wine. A long, deep hole had been dug and the earth piled up. Granny, laid out on her bier, was placed upon that mound of red-brown, rocky soil. Aunt Cora spread a white cloth over Granny, and Aunt Winnie stepped forward and placed the tray upon the body.
A stillness fell upon the congregation, taking such firm hold that even the crickets and frogs were silent.
No one moved.
No one breathed.
I looked up and saw Mama’s face glowing red-gold in the torchlight, her eyes shut tight. When the gate clicked, those gathered turned away from Granny, keeping their backs to her. I did the same, the hair on my head prickling as I heard the soft footfall of the sin eater.
It was so quiet, I heard the bread tear. I heard him gulp the wine. Was it hunger for sin that made him eat like a starving animal? Or was he as eager to have done with his terrible duty and be gone from this place as were those who stood with their backs turned and eyes tight shut in fear of looking into his evil eyes?
Silence followed his hasty meal, and then he gave a shuddering sigh. “I give easement and rest now to thee, Gorawen Forbes, dear woman, that ye walk not over fields nor mountains nor along pathways. And for thy peace I pawn my own soul.”
I couldn’t help it. His voice was so deep and tender and sorrowful, I turned, my heart aching. For the briefest instant our eyes met, and then I shut mine at the strange and terrifying sight of him. Yet time enough had passed to change everything from that day forw
ard.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
“No harm done,” he said softly. His quiet footfall died away as he went out the gate. I looked toward it, but darkness had already swallowed him.
Crickets chirped again, and somewhere close by the owl hooted. Whooo? Who is the sin eater? Whooo? Who is he? Whooo?
Everyone breathed again, like a collective sigh of relief and thanksgiving that it was over now and Granny would rest in peace. Mama began to cry loudly—deep wrenching sobs of inconsolable grief. I knew it wasn’t just Granny she was grieving over. Others cried with her as the prayers were said. Granny was lowered into her resting place. Loved ones came forward one by one and threw in sprigs of rosemary. When everything was said and done, Papa scooped Mama up in his arms and carried her from the graveyard.
Lingering behind, I watched two men shovel dirt on top of Granny. Each thud of earth made a cold thud inside me. One man looked up from his work. “Go on now, girl. Go on back to the house with the others.”
As I left by the gate, I turned for a moment, my gaze traveling over the others laid to rest in the cemetery. My grandfather Ian Forbes had been first, followed by a son who had died of a Thursday after complaining of terrible stomach pains. Three cousins and an aunt had died in a week of fever. And then there was the stone for Elen.
Halfway home, I looked down at the sprig of rosemary Mama had given me. I’d forgotten to throw it into the grave. Rubbing it between my palms, I crushed the small silvery leaves, releasing the scent. Putting my hands over my face, I breathed it in and wept. I stood like that, alone in the darkness, until Iwan came back for me. He held me close for a while, saying nothing. Then he took my hand and squeezed it. “Mama was worrying about you.”
He meant to comfort, but I knew it was a lie. In truth, we both knew it.
I stayed outside on the far end of the porch, my legs dangling over the edge. Leaning on the lower railing, I laid my head down in my arms and listened to Aunt Winnie sing a Welsh hymn Granny had taught her. Others joined in. Papa and the other men were drinking whiskey, little interested in the food the women had prepared.
“What’d he mean, ‘no harm done’?” someone asked.
“Maybe he meant Gorawen Forbes didn’t have as many sins as she might have after such a long living.”
“And maybe he’s taken on so many in the past twenty years, hers wilna make much difference.”
“Leave off talking about the man,” Brogan Kai said sternly. “He done his duty and he’s gone. Forget him.”
No one mentioned the sin eater again, not for the rest of that evening while the grieving was open and unashamed.
Weary in body and spirit, I went inside and curled up on Granny’s cot. Pulling her blanket over me, I closed my eyes, consoled. I could still smell the scent of her mingling with the rosemary on my palms. For a few minutes I pretended she was still alive and well, sitting in her chair on the porch listening to everyone tell stories about her and Grandfather and countless others they’d loved. Then I got to thinking of Granny lying deep in that grave, covered over by the red-brown mountain soil. She would not rise to walk these hills again because someone had come and taken her sins away.
Or had he?
Somewhere out there in the wilderness, all alone, was the sin eater. Only he knew if he had accomplished what he had come to do.
And yet, I could not help wondering. Why had he come at all? Why hadn’t he hidden himself away, pretending not to hear the passing bell echoing in the mountains? Were not the sins of one life enough to bear without taking on those of everyone that lived and died in the hollows and coves of our mountains? Why would he do it? Why would he carry so many burdens, knowing he would burn in hell for people who feared and despised him, who would never even look him in the face?
And why did my heart ache so at the thought of him?
Even at my tender age, I knew.
Seventy to eighty years stretched out before me, long years of living ahead if I had Granny’s constitution. Years to live with what I had done.
Unless . . .
“Forget him,” Brogan Kai had commanded.
Yet a quiet voice whispered in my ear, “Seek and ye shall find, my dear. Ask and the answer will be given . . .”
And I knew I would, whatever came of it.
T W O
It was three days after Granny Forbes was laid to rest that I met Lilybet in the forest. Papa and Iwan had been out working, and I had been left alone with Mama’s silence. I had done my chores and sat watching her spinning wool, the whir and click of the wheel the only sign of life from her. No words passed between us. Not even a look. I was low and melancholy from abiding under the shadow of death.
“Can I do anything for you, Mama?”
She looked at me, and her pain was terrible to see. I had cracked the shield of silence that protected her, and her heart spilled out through her eyes. I knew she couldn’t abide me so close in her grieving. In truth, my presence only served to rekindle her sorrow and tighten the chains around her heart. She was held captive in her losses and found no pleasure or even solace in my existence. I thought then it would have been better had I died.
It was all I could think about on that sunny day, warm and clear, with themists burned away. I yearned for things to be different, for time to roll back, and knew it couldn’t. Desperate to help Mama in any small way, I took the basket from the porch, intending to fill it with garden sass. I knew just where to go for it, for while Granny had still walked this earth she had shown me where to find the savory greens and roots that added to our homegrown meals. Ramps grew aplenty under the maples in the cove; the pungent-scented bulbs added fine flavor to Mama’s soups and stews. Turkey cress grew in the woods above the house. In the meadowlands below was brook lettuce, blue violet, and dock.
I had all we needed and more long before the sun had reached its high place overhead. I thought of leaving the basket like an offering on the front porch, knowing Mama would find it when she ventured outside to wash clothes or weed and water the garden. Yet hopelessness gripped me. What good would it do? Was there any offering I could give that would buy back time and undo what was done? No. I had to live with my sins, at least until I died and the sin eater could come and take them away.
If Mama would let him . . .
It was then that I turned toward the river, which was running high from the melting winter snows.
The water was cold as I waded in and so clear I could see the orange, brown, and black pebbles and ribbons of green moss on the bottom. Small fish shot past me, keeping to their hiding places in the rocks until I disturbed them. If I had a fishing pole, maybe I could catch a big one and bring it home for supper. I paused to think about it, the ache in my feet growing until they were numb. Seeing a big trout swaying in the current, I became less inclined to think of it as supper. It was beautiful, swimming there so gracefully and doing no one any harm. Besides, its death would not elevate me in Mama’s eyes. It’d be food soon forgotten with the next pang of hunger.
What could I offer to earn forgiveness?
I was sore with hopelessness, grieving my own losses, and it was in that frame of mind that I began talking to myself in the wood, keeping myself company. Most of what I said was simple nonsense, just sounds to fill the void my loneliness was growing and to build my courage as I ventured further from home. I was making a decision and needed counsel. I thought then there was no other to listen but myself. Iwan could not encourage me, and Papa would not want to be bothered. Work was his salvation. So, seeking answers, I followed the river down to the fallen tree that bridged the narrows not far above the falls.
It was there my life had changed. And it was there I could make amends for what had happened.
I talked with myself as I went.
“You shudna be here, Cadi. You’ve been warned to keep away!”
“I have to be here. You know I have to see.”
“Yes, I know, child, but it’s dangerous. It’s n
o place for little girls to play.”
“I’m not going to play.”
I left the basket on the flat rock and climbed on the upturned roots of that great old pine, then sat down. A sick fear gripped my throat as I held tight to the root chair. The palms of my hands were slick with sweat. Thinking of Mama spinning in silence, her face so pale and forlorn, helped me gather courage. After a little while, the river’s roar seemed distant. A little longer, and it beckoned.
Closing my eyes, I imagined walking out on that rough-bark bridge. I imagined standing in the middle with my arms spread like wings. I imagined flinging myself out like a bird in flight, arching, suspended for a moment before I plunged downward into the white foam and churning currents that crashed over boulders. I imagined what it would be like dipping, rising, swirling, and being swept over the falls. I imagined going down, down into that deep blue pool below. And then I imagined my body floating onward and going wherever the river ran, never to be found again. Papa said it poured into the sea. The sea, so far away, so deep, so wide I could not even imagine it. All I knew was I would be lost forever.
Lost. And forgotten.
Granny was gone now. I was alone. There was no one left to lead me out of the wilderness of my circumstances or the blight upon my soul. There was no one to love me back from the edge as Granny had done daily since last summer. I kept thinking, Oh, God, if only I could die, maybe then the sin eater would come and take my sins away. Oh, God, would that he could do it now while my heart beats and I still breathe, so I would not have to live with pain.
And then she came, sudden and unexpected, like a shaft of light as the sun starts coming up over the mountain.
“Hello, Katrina Anice,” she said in a voice soft and sweet.
Opening my eyes, I looked around and saw a little girl younger than me sitting beside the basket I’d left on the flat rock. She stood and came toward me.