Chapter 26
December 20, 1997 – somewhere on the other side of the world
The old four-wheel-drive approached that steeply inclined lane that led into Paw Paw's place, both girls waiting with eager anticipation in the back seat. Daddy always stopped the car at the top, winked his eye, said, "Hold on to your butts," then steered the rusting jeep into the valley of the fairies. It looked magical with purple-flowered shamrock clover, wild strawberry, and lush green rock cap moss dripping off the clay cliffs on either side.
More magical still was that the valley of the fairies culminated in a wooden bridge over the runoff channel that ran through Paw Paw's property. Overgrown with eighty-year-old tree roots, the channel's flow ran under the twisty root bridges through elephant ears, wood fern, and banks lined with flowering water plants.
The mysterious world of Paw Paw's place was the reward for the monotony of the ride from Lafayette Parish to Livingston Parish over the long, boring bridge through the Atchafalaya Basin. Eighteen miles of highway suspended over a swamp was just too much for two preteen girls to abide.
The outside world tried to break through - moans and crying, chains dragged across stone floors...but she would have none of it.
The ponds...the ponds at Paw Paw's house...
Daddy and Paw Paw fishing...
The bald cypress trees...
...soft lime green, with delicate, fern-like fronds tipped with tiny balls of cone at the ends of the branches...draped with Spanish moss, like gray Christmas tinsel, and knees poking up out of the water - a light breeze made soft ripples through mossy algae covering half the surface of the pond. Next to the old party barn that got shredded in Hurricane Betsy, a goose on the other banks protected her eggs. Some mothers did that.
Both girls had taken off their sandals and stretched their legs out over a carpet of mossy ground, watching Daddy cast his line. A dragonfly landed on Mignon's toe, making her giggle. Katie shooshed her so as not to scare the helicopter bug away. It stayed there for a couple of minutes until Mignon couldn't stand it anymore and had to shake her leg.
"I couldn't help it. My leg went to sleep," she cried, "I'll do better next time."
They both giggled. Dragonflies and snake doctors had no reservations about landing on one's hand or toe or head if you sat still long enough. But Mignon was ten and ran out of patience sooner than her sister, Katie, twelve and a half. Half years made a big difference to preteen girls who were growing up too fast.
Katie dug around in the ratty old tote bag that Mama had given her before she left and pulled out a book. It was their favorite, hers and Mignon's. One would think that in this magical world two little girls would want to read about fairies and wood nymphs and sprites. But not Katie and Mignon. Their favorite book was "The Collected Poems of Edgar Allan Poe.' Mignon loved to recite 'A Valentine.'
"For her this rhyme is penned, whole luminous eyes,
Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,
Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies
Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.
Search narrowly the lines! – they hold a treasure
Divine – a talisman – an amulet
That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure –
The words – the syllables! Do not forget
The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor!
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot
Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus,
Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets – as the name is a poet's too.
Its letters, although naturally lying
Like the knight Pinto – Mendez Ferdinando – Still form a synonym for Truth – Cease trying!
You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do."
Mignon had memorized the poem when she was nine...when Daddy was himself. He had rarely been himself since Mama left...only on these soft Spring days when he could take his girls to fairyland and fish with Paw Paw.
Mignon challenged anyone and everyone who would listen to decipher the riddle. One had to read the verse in written form to break the code and find out the woman's name for whom Poe had written it.
Hiding things in plain sight used to be Mignon's favorite game...
...before it stopped being a game.
The ceiling was dripping on her face, and the moans became louder.
The book...
Katie and Mignon reading Poe...
Katie and Mignon reading Poe by the pond...softly breezy days, old shredded barns, and a Great Blue Heron passing overhead, casting its shadow like a prehistoric pterodactyl...
While Mignon's favorite Poe was a riddle, Katie's was "Annabel Lee.'
"It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;..."
The ceiling of the cell was dripping again with that tortuous ping, ping, ping that droned through her brain like rail spikes into steel track and tried to overpower her resolve.
She realized now that the liquid on her face was not limited to the foul droplets from the ceiling and reached up as far as the chains would allow wiping away hot tears. She couldn't remember what day it was or how long she had been there.
This too shall pass...
Dragonflies.
Must think of dragonflies and soft Spring days...
...and Annie.