Visitor

Anya believed him a wild spirit from the first she seen him. An animal caught in the blindness of winter, astray of both kin and kind. She said later he meant no true harm, just sought warmth in the keep of a good Christian home. That he were a sinner just as us and that we should forgive him. Was our fortune to have him on the holiday, as we praised Him for our fortunes and our health and our fire. All us yet encircled by some white obscenity. Hills and sunlight bled together. Can’t recall it as she can, bless her, but I remember much. Addled and forgetful as I am. Unforgiven as I been.

* * * * *

On the night of Christmas the nor'easter set upon the village, settin us firmly inside round that whisperin fire. Gales pressed the house but it were sturdy and had stood more savage winters. Ben, my eldest, asked if he could play in the snow afore it got too high. I looked across the room at Suzi, not three yet, in Anya’s arms, her new copperhead doll held loosely in one arm and her blue eyes starin thoughtless at the flames. I said to Ben, “if your ma’s alright with it.” And I thought of Suzi playin outdoors. Wondered what her laugh sounded like. She stared forward as if none of us were there, livin in some other moment. Captive in ours.

Anya bounced her a bit and said to Ben, “you bundle up and stay about the house and come back in if you start feelin nothin.”

Ben slapped the table and rushed for his coat.

“Gloves and hat,” I chided, “take my boots if they’ll fit ya.”

Was only a few minutes afore he was out the door and howlin at the wild. Yippin like the coyotes do when they banter forward and back. Anya smiled faintly and gently lifted the doll from Suzi’s hands as if in play. With a murmur and pout, she pulled it back and fussed with the dress Anya made for it. Saw her look to the door and back to the hair of her doll.

“She’s a pretty girl, ain’t she?” I said, my face warm.

Suzi nodded only slightly and stilled. She then wormed out of Anya’s arms to sit by her lonesome in the rockin chair. She clutched the doll close to her body, as if to keep it warm. Anya’s eyes were wet and she stood and brushed the folds from her dress and said, “I’ll start dinner now.”

She wiped her eyes and looked outside and passed into the kitchen. She said I needed to light the stove and keep an eye on the boy since he mightn’t have sense in him. I nodded to no one and silently followed her into the kitchen. Afore breathin I said, “she’s still young.”

Anya was pullin a bag of oats off the wall and paused a spell as if she’d respond. Then she began pourin em into an iron pot. I pitched a dry log into the stove and fixed to light it, thought about sayin somethin I’d regret and lit the stove and said it was lit and took my leave of the kitchen.

Suzi had her eyes then fixed outside, all wide and wondrous. The first great snow she’d recall. A dream she could keep and tell tale of again and again. I sat beside her chair and watched the snow dance and dash against the window. Wondered what she thought caused it all. Where the winds hailed from and what made it so cold and malefic. 

A groan and snap in the joists above gave her a start and I laughed near silent to myself. Whispered, “we’re safe in here, lass. No force of nature can take us.” She clutched the doll tighter and I whispered, “none can take her neither.”

Anya called from the kitchen, “Clayton! Best be checkin on Benjamin afore he loses himself out there.” And I said aye and stood with my knees poppin like the fire. Stood at the window first and seen the boy doused in white and troddin slowly to meet me at the door. I saw him in, brushin him off and askin if he were numb. He shook his head and said, “there’s a man out there.”

“A man. Near the house?”

“I saw him wavin and he called and asked if we could spare the warmth.”

“Get on. Your mum’s makin supper for ya.”

I stood and looked out into the distance. In the sideways snow there was a tall black silhouette, balkin and steadyin himself against the gales. I opened the door and stood at our threshold and heard his voice clear as day.

“Ya spare some heat?”

Thought a bit afore speakin back, but said, “for a neighbor in need.” To which he began to advance my way, stumblin as if he were hobbled or numbed himself. He said, “I thank ye. Much obliged.”

Anya appeared behind me then, whispered that I best know what I’m doin and that she wouldn’t put up with no vagrant bargin in at this hour. I barked back firmly sayin we wouldn’t turn away a soul in need. I felt her throwin daggers and heard her step back into the kitchen.

The man were ill-suited for traversin the cold. No hat or gloves. Just heavy boots he threw before him as if he were a babe learnin to walk. As he approached the light of our lamps, I saw he were a sinewy man. Gangly and awkward, but his face, doused as it were in white powder, were handsome and warm. The teeth of his smile never met, as if he were heavin a breath and greetin me at once.

“Much obliged, sir. Much obliged.”

I stood aside and let him past the threshold, offered to take his coat and hang it near the fire for dryin. The man breathed heavy, repeatin that he was obliged several more times afore I offered him a chair. He sat quickly and closed his eyes and I thought him already asleep. I pulled a chair for myself from the corner and placed it to the other side of the hearth.

“Colder’n hell out there, I say,” he suddenly spat. His eyes opened and fell around the room, landin finally on mine. They were sleepless, near ghastly from the firelight. In the deep hazel of his eyes were streaks of flickerin gold and bronze. Was a hypnotic gaze the man had and I struggled to stammer, “aye. Happy Christmas all the same.”

I sat and the man chuckled and repeated, “Happy Christmas all the same…”

“My wife, Anya, is makin us porridge, if you’d like some,” and I looked toward the kitchen to see no one, “Ben is who you seen outside and our littlest there is Suzi.”

“Deakin,” he said, and stretched out a hand for me to shake. I took it and felt little more than bone to grasp. He pulled back, recognizin his frailty and laughed at himself again, “ya forgive me. Season’s been unkind. On my lonesome a bit. Quarrels with kin and such. Much obliged.”

“Of course,” I said, and looked back at Suzi, who stroked and pulled at the hair of her doll. I said that I wouldn’t be a good Christian if I didn’t seek to aid those in need. Deakin gave a firm nod and said, “much obliged.”

I asked, “how is it you found yerself in the storm?”

He closed his eyes again and continued noddin, “was misfortune, ya see. Out speculatin. Lost myself north of the village. Fell from my horse. Woke up alone in blindness. Seen yer light as that of Christ Himself.”

I then nodded and said, “think He heard you in yer need.”

“Aye. He’s a listener, that’n. Always hears the truth of your sufferin even if you don’t know it yourself yet. I reckon He saw me out there and lit your fire for me to find.”

“He works in such ways,” I said.

“Aye. And He’s watchin us now. All of us here, ain’t he?”

“Aye.”

He fell quiet and I reckoned he were snorin even, but he threw open his eyes and offered a most wily glance, “y’aven’t anythin… strong… about, do ye? Somethin to warm the bones a bit? Not a drinker myself, I assure you.”

Stammerin again, I said, “I… I’m afraid we don’t keep such… strength… in our house.”

“And not in yer shed out back, neither?”

“No sir, I can assure you we are a dry, Godly house.”

“Aye, fair enough. Fair enough,” his face fell slack again before he said, “wouldn’t mind if I help myself?” He patted at his coat hangin there and a thick hum of metal tolled within. My eyes widened as he pulled a flask out and felt around it like he were tryin to warm it up too. He chuckled, “suppose God don’t mind what I do in his house. Fair enough to say this’d be an occasion to share a toast to His only boy.”

I stared at the flask a long spell afore saying, “no… I mean, yes. A toast. To our Lord and Savior on this, the day of His birth.”

“There’s a good man,” and Deakin tore the cap, winked and pulled from the flask. Pitched it near upright that the weathered tin mirrored the flames. He thrust it before me and coughed a thick cloud of burnt sugar and rotted fruit. I held the flask and stared at the mouth and thought of things both sacred and cursed and recalled my young’n seated and softly rockin behind us. Either of us caught in a reverence we couldn’t truly know.

“To the day of His birth!” said Deakin. And I nipped and raised the flask and returned it.

The man held a wide grin and I saw again that his teeth never met. In the cold, his visage were warm and kind, and before the fire it read fearsome and mad. Vapors of rum bled with my words, “I’ll have ‘nuther, if you please.”

Was then I heard faint patter behind us as Ben returned to the room. He met eyes with Deakin and then me and I looked away and told him to be kind to our guest and introduce himself.

“I’m Benjamin. A pleasure.”

“Aye, Benjamin. A pleasure indeed. Yer pa’s a good man for takin in a stray at this hour, would ya say?”

Ben paused but said, “Aye, sir.”

“Ha! I ain’t no sir, my boy, but the honor ye bestow me is taken.”

The boy looked at me puzzled and said mum were wantin me to have a look at the stove. I stood and patted him softly on the shoulder and said he should get to his readin. Deakin nodded and closed his eyes again, offerin a yawn and a whisper about feelin his toes again. Ben left for his room and I stood a moment with the howlin outdoors and inside my head. Saw Anya across the threshold starin fiercely at Deakin. I trod into the kitchen to ask about the stove. 

“I don’t want that man in our house,” she angrily whispered, “who goes wanderin about in a storm like this? And where’s he come from, now?”

“I say…” I spoke with my eyes shut and with calmest breath, “that he’s welcome in any house of God’s so he is welcome in ours. He’s lost, is all. Had a spot of tough luck and he’s here with us in warmth and safety. We’ll get him back out when the storm breaks. When there’s day again. I need your trust.”

Her eyes turned hard, then glistened with fear, “nothin gained is nothin lost. Where was he keepin it? You said you’d keep such a thing outta this house.”

“For the sake of…” I started, and ran my fingers through my hair, “that’s not who I am no more. I’m stronger, but I need ya with me.” She stared down at nothin for what seemed ages and looked up again with greater fire than before.

“I see what you are and I smell it too. You’ve a lot of answerin ahead of you, but I’m keepin the kids with me tonight. I’m lockin the door and bringin a poker with me.”

“Christ, Anya…”

“Don’t Christ me nothin, Clayton. You just worry bout yourself. Now step away so I can fetch Suzi.”

Deakin held his eyes shut as Anya gathered Suzi and strode again to the threshold. Then he said almost under a breath, “yer lass has the loveliest voice.”

Before I could reckon what was said I saw Anya’s eyes well up and stab at mine.

“Wh… what?” she moaned.

Deakin turned his head to us and his eyes opened, “she’s a lovely voice. Said she misses her pa. Told her he’s here with her now and will always love her dearly.”

Anya turned back to me and I saw the tears fallin now. Could feel my chest heavin and had nothin to say could make sense of it. Deakin held the look of a man lost to a new wilderness. Only heard a faint murmur from Anya afore she was gone and the clap of a far away door put a point to it. I stood quiet for some time.

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” the man almost whispered, “didn’t mean anythin by what I said. I’ve said somethin most offensive, I fear. Betrayed yer good charity.”

“Not… not at all,” I said, unsure of my words, “we’ve had difficulties of late.”

“Bless you! My sympathies, of course!” he raised a hand to his forehead, “and on Christmas I dug it all up! Beg yer forgiveness, sir!”

“Please, it’s my doing. Think nothin of it.”

“Oh, much obliged, but I can be a wretch at times.”

Deakin pulled from the flask once more, light dancin all over it and such. He held it out for me and I took it and pulled from it myself. Let it pull me.

“Been dry for months,” I said.

“Aye, the season calls you. A time for cheer!” and he took the flask.

“I can’t handle it like that, you see. It ain’t cheer that comes from me. I get angry. And jealous. And I say all the worst things. And then I say it’s the last time. And it isn’t.”

Deakin nodded thoughtfully, “aye, you can keep time by the sin and promise of man.”

“It is a sin,” I said and pointed to the drink, “that. Me.”

“Mustn’t talk that way, sir.”

“I done so much wrong by it. I ask for forgiveness. For love. And I can’t feel it.”

The man waved his hand about, “and what’d you say all this is but love? What more can you want? Stores of food, healthy pups and a fine lass to hold ya. Devil’d pay a good price for such a blessing.”

I said nothin and reached again for the flask. The man looked back with a knowin that it would happen this way again and again. He and I shared sips and prayers and tears and laughter. The thrummin in my ears pulsed louder and louder til my head swam into a twilit cloud and I sensed my body twist and jerk and lastly settle numb to the ground. And there I slept.

The next I could recall, daylight were crestin and I were bundled and seated in a tomb of white. Ice had formed about my beard and brow. Saw that I was outdoors near the house among tracks leadin to and from the shed. Tried the door of the house and were blessed to find it unlocked. There was no man and no coat and no great boots and no tin flask inside. I stumbled forward mutterin to somethin. I then sat in the rockin chair and slept afore our dying fire.  

* * * * *

Can’t say as it were god or devil sent that man out in the storm that night, or if I fashioned him out of a wild fever. All I know is I’ve made a work of things in the time since. My boy’s off in the western provinces, fine job at a refinery what stills the petrol into kerosine and what have you. Made himself a man who can light fires with a switch. Night to day. Powers of the gods! Ha! Anya, bless her, found greener pastures, if ye take me. A stronger fella of wealth and courage. Aye, stonelike, he was. Wouldn’t harm a soul if you paid him. A teetotaler. A teetotaler right til the derailment took him years back. I say if there’s a heaven and hell, I know one on the right side of things. She’s alright, my girl. Better off aside the ghost of a good man than the demon of another. 

Suzi wrote me this here letter after it all. She was always a girl of few words, and I can respect how she’d have nothin to do with me. Wouldn’t want anythin of me either, but I can’t help that. Only in dreams do I hear her speak, and only then it’s Anya’s voice. It ain’t fear in it, though. It’s sadness and pity. As though I were a sickly cur what carried a rat in the house.

Someday I’ll see her again, but I gotta earn myself. My whole. Gotta chase this devil outta me and run him back to hell. Show them all the man I see in myself. That’s all. Nuther pour if you don’t mind, barkeep. Aye. Ain’t nothin for you but mash and vapor. I’m takin it for the road. Swear on my soul. After all, winds a pickin up out there. Nor'easter a comin and I’m fixin to stay warm come the ice of damnation.

Much obliged, sir.