Seventh Daughter Beta

“The seventh daughter must pass the gift to her seventh daughter.” 

       Her mother’s words swirled around her, and Mona struggled to find where the voice was coming from, knowing it was useless. Her mother had passed years ago.       

“She must, Mona.” The voice was stronger, more insistent.

         Mona, lying in her hospital bed, let out a moan, and her breath became shallower. The words pulsated, and she made a feeble attempt to block her ears. 

       “The seventh daughter must pass the gift to her seventh daughter.”

        “Mother,” Mona screamed, but only a whisper escaped, “I don’t have a daughter.”  

       A small hand tugged hers, pulled her from the half dream and back to the room. Mona opened her eyes, and pulled her lips into a smile.

       Joey, sweet Joey, smiled at her, concern in his eyes. How could such a little guy, he was only eight years old, have so much gentleness? He took a wet cloth from the side table and pressed it to her forehead. She didn’t like the cool cloth on her face, but didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

       “Feel better, Mom?” He held her hand.

       She smiled and squeezed. 

       Her mother’s words broke through.             

       “The seventh daughter must pass the gift to her seventh daughter.”

       Inside, Mona yelled at her to shut up, and then took a deep breath. Gathering her courage and her strength, she tugged at Joey’s hand, and motioned for him to get closer. 

       Her words were low, and she felt Joey’s soft breath as he bent closer to hear her.

       “Joey, ... giving you the gift...my mother gave me.” Her words, stronger than they had been in days, were slow and she paused often. 

       “Use only if necessary.”  She paused and looked at him to make sure he understood. He nodded. “Hold my hand. .... Repeat the prayer after me.”

       Joey put the cloth down, and held both of her hands. Eyes on him, to make sure he was listening, Mona whispered the words handed down from generations to generation. 

       Much later she awoke. Joey sat on a chair beside her bed reading. 

       Mona motioned for Joey to get closer, and with effort said,  “Don’t... use ... too often... always a cost.”  

       Exhausted she fell back asleep.

       That night, Mona passed away and Joey lost the brightest star in his life.

***

       After the funeral, Joey went home with his stepfather, Dillan, to the little flat on top of Gerry’s Meat Shop. Dillan changed into his old jeans and a fresh shirt.

“Joey I’ll be back in an hour,” he said as he walked out the door.

Joey knew Dillan probably wouldn’t be back that night, and if he did come back, he would probably be drunk.

       The sun was beginning to set when Joey fixed supper; beans and wieners with toast. He ate by the window and looked out over the street, thinking about his Mom, unwilling to let the tears flow.

He noted the activity below, but it didn’t quite register. City traffic was light. The wind picked up a loose newspaper, and Joey watched as it tumbled down the street. A small white dog sniffed along the sidewalk keeping close to the stores. Across the street, a woman came out of an apartment building, and beckoned to two girls playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. 

       Three boys came careening down the street on roller blades. Joey stopped munching when he saw one of them point to the dog. The boys slowed, and one by one they surrounded the tiny animal. The taller one, he knew it was Cody, knelt and beckoned to the dog. The other two made a wall so it couldn’t get through. The dog made a bolt for it, but wasn’t fast enough. Cody caught him. Joey saw the dog nip Cody in an effort to get away. Cody yelled something, and raised his hand. 

     "Hey, leave the little dog alone." Joey yelled although he knew they couldn't hear him.

     The little dog cowered. Joey could feel the fury in Cody’s actions, but not quite the anger Joey felt when he saw what was happening. The three boys, with the dog held firmly under Cody’s arms, made for the alley at the back of the meat shop. 

       Joey left his supper, and barreled down the stairs. 

     "Arrrfff!" he heard the mournful yelps as soon as he opened the door.

Darn, they’d better not have hurt him. He ran to the alley, but before he got there the three boys came barreling out. Cody’s hand was bloody, and Joey’s heart sickened at the sight. He hurried down the alleyway.         

       The dog lay curled up in front of a garbage can licking blood pouring from his paw. A large chard of bloody glass lay on the ground. It looked like he’d stepped on it, maybe trying to get away from the boys. The blood flowed steadily. Soft puppy moans came from him, and Joey almost cried to see his misery. Joey approached with caution. 

    "It's okay doggie, I'm not going to hurt you." The little dog seemed past caring, and paid no attention as Joey sat beside him. Gently, Joey put his hand on the small animal. He felt its body tremble beneath his touch.

"Nice dog, nice dog, it's going to be alright." Joey patted the dog's head.

       Joey’s mind went back to his mother, and to the words she had whispered to him in the hospital He remembered repeating words after her, and then the surge of warmth running through his body, and the pleasant tingling which passed from the top of his head down to his toes.

       Without thinking of the consequences, Joey repeated the prayer, hoping his mother’s words were true. As he whispered the words, the warmth in his body surged, and the pleasant tinkling started at his head and spread. The tinkling didn’t reach his toes, but went to his hands, and seemed to pass to the little dog.

The dog whimpered, and then Joey felt it relax. Tears flowed as Joey gazed where the big gash had been. The bleeding had stopped, and there was a raw scar where the cut had been. 

       “Feeling better now?” Joey picked the puppy, and snuggled it in his arms. 

       He tried not to think of the pain in his foot that had started at the same time the little puppy had stopped bleeding.

The dog licked him on the neck as Joey limped his way back to the flat. Joey thought he understood what his mother had meant by the cost. His left foot was sore and stiff. He wondered if it would ever go away.

       Joey brought the little puppy to the kitchen sink, and washed away the remnants of blood as best he could. He got a bowl from the cupboard, and put half of what was left of his supper on it. He placed it on the table next to his plate, and brought the dog up to the table. They ate with the gusto of long held hunger.

       “So, what’s your name, puppy? Fluffy? Misty?” The puppy wiggled in his arms.

       “I know, I’ll call you Curly, ‘cause when I first saw you, you were all curled up and your fur’s curly. What do you say, Curly?”  The dog let out a squeaky bark, and licked Joey’s cheek.

       Later that night, Curly stirred and Joey heard the doorknob turn. The little dog growled, and Joey put his hand over his mussel so he wouldn’t bark. Joey heard the usual noises as Dillan made his way to the room he had shared with Mona. Joey’s door was closed, and he knew that even if he were drunk, Dillan wouldn’t come in without knocking. He might crash into furniture, shout out choice words, swear at him, but wouldn’t come in without permission. Tonight, Dillan didn’t make any noise and didn’t knock. Joey snuggled closer to Curly, and went back to sleep.

       “Hey, sport, breakfast is ready.” Dillan knocked and peeked in. Curly growled. 

       “What’s this?”

       “I found him, he was hurt.”

       “The blood I found on a rag in the kitchen?”

       “Yes”

       “How’s the dog now? Still bleeding?”

       “No.”

       “How’d you stop the bleeding?’

       “Don’t know.”

       “What’re we going to do with a dog? We can’t take care of ourselves?”

       “Can we keep him please, Dillan.”

       “We have plans to make today, Joey, plans for the future, and I don’t see a dog fitting in”

       “I’ll do anything, I promise, please let me keep him.”

       “You’re Auntie Pam’s coming today. We have to clean up. We’ll talk about the dog later.”

       “His name’s Curly.”

       “All right, get Curly out of bed, and come have breakfast.”

       Joey rushed through his morning routine with Curly following wherever he went.  Dillan had made him peanut butter on toast. Joey looked up at Dillan. He was clean-shaven, and had no morning shadows under his eyes. Joey cut his sandwich, and put half on a plate for Curly. He grabbed the dog, put the plate on the table and sat down.

       “No way, Joey. No dog at the table. Put him on the floor.” 

       Joey looked up pleading.              

       “On the floor.”

       Joey put Curly down, and was about to sit when the bell rang,

       “Dang it, she’s early. Look at this place.” Dillan rushed to pick newspapers off the floor as he made his way to the door. 

       “Good morning, Dillan” Auntie Pam went back in the hallway to grab two suitcases.

       “ G’morning Pam.” Dillan hurried to help.

       From that moment, and until she left the next day, Auntie Pam took over. She gave the apartment a thorough clean, made menus and shopping lists, and helped Dillan and Joey plan what they had to do to stay together. 

       Late that evening, she went to tug Joey in and asked him about the dog. 

       “Tell me how the bleeding stopped, Joey.”

       “Don’t know.”

       “Sure you know. She passed you the gift, didn’t she?”

       Joey nodded.

       “It’s a dangerous gift Joey. Don’t use it anymore.”

       Joey nodded.

       “One time, Mona helped one of her friends who had cut her foot on a rock swimming in the river. She stopped the bleeding... but Mona could never unbend the little finger of her right hand after that.”

       Joey wiggled his foot still stiff and sore. All day it had taken super effort to walk naturally.

       “How did this gift come about, Auntie,? Where does it come from?”

       “You’re Mom and I are Acadians, descendants of the French who settled on Canada’s east coast.” Auntie Pam sat on his bed.

       “A long time ago, at the time when there were pioneers, a family, our ancestors, lived by the sea. They had twelve children. Times were pretty rough but they managed.

They had five boys and seven girls. It suited the mother and father quite well for they each had children to help with the daily chores.

Trouble was, they were far from everything. Their closest neighbor was twenty miles away. That was pretty far to go by horse and even worse in winter.

A priest came to visit once a year. The early Acadians were very religious. They prayed together every night and every morning when they got up they consecrated their day to God. 

       One cold winter day, the eldest boy, out cutting wood, missed the tree  and got his leg. There was a big gash and they couldn’t stop the bleeding. The family began to pray.

As they prayed the youngest girl, Marie, had a vision. She went to her brother put her hand on his arm and said some quiet words. The wound stopped bleeding. Marie was told in the vision to pass the gift to every seventh daughter. And that, dear Joey, is about all I know.”

       “But I’m not a girl, and I’m not the seventh child.”     

       “I know, I don’t know if it’s is going to change the gift. Be careful, Joey. They say the first girl who had the gift ended up a cripple. Some say she got better once she passed the gift on, but who knows?”

       “Did Mama’s finger ever get better?” Joey remembered his mother not using her left hand very much and wondered.

       “Not as far as I know.”

       Joey nodded. It took a long time to get to sleep that night. He snuggled up to Curly, glad the gift had been able to save the dog, but he didn’t want it any more. He didn’t want to grow up handicapped. 

       Mona didn’t leave the next day as they had expected. She was waiting for Dillan at the breakfast table with bacon and eggs when he finally got up at ten past nine.

       “We have to talk, Dillan.”

       “I’m listening.”

       “I’ll get right to the point. I want Joey to come live with me.”

       Joey was listening from his room, the words coming loud and clear through the vent.

       Dillan didn’t answer right away, and Joey held his breath.

       “There’s nothing to talk about.”

       “What do you mean?”

       “Joey stays with me.”

       “But he’s not yours.”

       “He’s not yours either.”

       “She was my sister, you were just living with her.”

       “Common law, Pam, just as good as married in this country.”

       “But this is not suitable for a kid.”

       “What do you mean?”

       “You drink, you’re never around.”

       “Haven’t touch a drink since the funeral.”

       “How long is that going to last?”

       “As long as I want it to. I told you the answer is no, conversation closed.”

       Joey heaved a sigh of relief. He liked Aunt Pam, but Dillan was the only family he knew. Aunt Pam had never been around much, and he didn’t like where she lived, in a small town where there wasn’t much to do.

       There was more arguing from the kitchen, but Joey didn’t listen. Once Dillan made up his mind about something he didn’t change it.

       Later, Auntie Pam left, but not before having words for Dillan and for Joey.

       She took Joey aside, “Joey I don’t want you to use that gift. It’s not right, more like a curse. Leave it alone, if I can figure a way you can get rid of it, I’ll let you know.”

       As she got out the door, she shot back at Dillan, “I’ll be back.’

       The good thing about the next few weeks was that Joey and Dillan began to talk about important things, about their future, about how each was dealing with the death of Mona, and about day to day things. It was difficult for Joey to open up. He liked being on his own, dealing with his own problems, but when Dillan admitted he was the same way, that he wanted them to be more like a family, it became easier to share.  

       One thing worried Joey more and more. A few days after he had rescued Curly, he went to the playground. The boys were getting ready for a ball game. Freddy, his friend from school, called him to his team. The other team was made up of Cody and his gang. 

       “Hey, Freddy,” Cody called, “don’t think because you have Joey on your team you’re gonna win.”

       “Yeah, well, Joey could beat your team with his eyes closed and one hand behind his back, standing on one leg.”

       “Yeah, he got two homers last time because Harry pitched when he wasn’t feeling well.”

       “Excuses, excuses.” Freddy called as his team got ready to bat.

       The bases were loaded when Joey took the bat. He wasn’t feeling as confident as Freddy. The first ball came at him, and he swung and missed. He hit the second ball to left field and started to run.

It should have been a home run but he barely made it to first base. His foot was so stiff and painful that he just made it before the ball came flying in. Freddy called time, and rushed to first.

       “What’s the matter with your foot, Joey?”

       “Don’t know.”

       “Want me to get someone to run for you?”

       “Yeah.” Joey didn’t want to run again, didn’t want to play anymore, wanted to go home and think this thing out.

       He left the game early and limped home. Sometimes the limp seemed to be getting better, and at other times it appeared worst than before. He had no idea what to do about it. Maybe it wasn’t the gift, maybe he had twisted it without realizing it.

       Dillan was sitting on the stoop when he arrived home.

       “Hey, what’s with the leg? Hurt yourself at the park?” 

       So far, Joey had managed to keep the limp from Dillan, walking straight with superhuman effort when Dillan was around. 

       “Don’t know, Dillan.”

       “Did you fall or something?”

       “No.”

       “How did this happen?”

       “Don’t know.” Joey turned so Dillan wouldn’t see the worry in his eyes.

       “Okay, Joey, we’re going to see a doctor. This doesn’t look good.”

       The doctor examined the leg, took x-rays, and then sent them in the waiting room to wait. Finally, he came out and talked to Dillan.

       “There doesn’t appear to be anything physically wrong with his leg. I suggest he do some gentle exercises for a week, if that doesn’t help, bring him back and we’ll do more tests.”

       Joey was quiet all the way home, and he wondered what would happen if the foot got worse. Maybe he’d have to use a wheel chair.

       “Okay, Joey,” Dillan said, as soon as the apartment door closed behind them. “what’s troubling you? Want to tell me what this is all about? Is this the mumbo-jumbo, your Auntie Pam was telling me about, the gift Mona gave you?”

       Joey nodded.

       “Darn it, Joey, that stuff’s for the birds. It’s all in your head.”

       Joey looked up at him. 

       “You have to make up your mind this thing isn’t real, then it’ll go away. Otherwise, we’ll have to see a shrink, not a doctor.”

       Joey nodded, but he had tried everything he could think of already.

       “Look, let’s give it a week like the doc said, then if it’s no better we’ll do something about it.”

       “Okay,” Joey agreed. “I’ll do exercise, it should go away.”

       Over the next few weeks Joey did his exercises, and it seemed to help but the pain never totally left. He walked more naturally, and Dillan seemed to take that as a sign it was getting better, and didn’t mention the shrink or doctor again.      

       Joey went back to playing ball, and most days could run all the bases. He jogged in the park with Curly, another exercise that seemed beneficial.

Looking for feedback. Will be posting new chapters every few days until December...

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