V. The Sins of the Father
All things happen for a reason. One needs no God of any kind to believe that philosophical adage. Just as Eli's God of the Sky wrested authority from Daniel's God of the Ground by converting more congregation members from among the roughnecks, the God Below poised for reprisal. Perhaps it had been Eli's inflammatory eulogy and vatic missive that evoked it, but Daniel's black chthonic God awakened with providential violence later that afternoon.
When the momentous event happened Mary missed it because she was in the hills with Ruth and the goats. Normalcy rapidly dissolved into hellish chaos. The ground was wrong beneath their feet and, with lifetimes accustomed to the unpredictable Californian terrain, they prepared themselves for another earthquake. Maniacal shouts from the men in the distance reached them before blackness spouted from the top of the derrick's framework. The dumbfounded sisters were agape, watching the great spray rain down in fulfilment of Eli's overt prophecy, anointing the devout Sunday farm with its bursting, glossy ejaculation.
"Looks like the well's finally come in," sighed Ruth.
"Everything's going to get dirty," Mary declared, watching black droplets carried by the wind splatter at her feet.
"Yeah. Tell your boyfriend thanks for the extra work."
The sisters traded looks of amusement and irritation respectively and the elder humorously shoved the younger.
"He's not my boyfriend," Mary persisted.
The younger girl turned back to take another look at the spurting derrick when the nefarious emission erupted into a torching column of fire. Gasping in shock, she stumbled and toppled backwards across the ground.
"What's the matter, you silly goose?" Ruth asked.
Mary pointed to the inferno and when Ruth turned to see for herself she couldn't help but to take the Lord's name in vain. Scalding downdrafts from the pillar of fire smothered them even where they stood, putting tears in their gaping eyes and sweat on their singed brows.
"Is it supposed to do that?" wondered Mary rhetorically, standing again.
"I don't think so."
Ruth noticed Mary's nervous fidgeting effort to defy the need to race home, watch the events unfold and check the welfare of the boy she assumed was her sister's love interest.
"Go," she urged. "See if he's all right."
The younger girl's hasty gadarene rush to the fields had her nearly tripping as she rounded the top of the hill and stumbled over its other side. Below waited a bedlam of men playing their parts in regaining control of the enraged oil God. Her distraught eyes roved the field, seeking out first Daniel then H.W., but if the father was there she could not discern him apart from the other oil-soaked men. The one thing that was clear was the absence of H.W.'s notably smaller form.
Conscious of the peril that she would place herself into by entering the epicentre, she stopped short and watched awestruck. She was totally helpless and she hated it. At the very least she wanted to dash in, locate H.W. and make certain that he was fine yet the rashness would not fare well amid the disorder. She was never more afraid, not even during her first days around Daniel or when father beat her.
Terror for her adopted family avalanched over her, crushing her with the worst things imaginable. True, this was their livelihood and they were experienced in handling these matters, but accidents caused dramatic changes in a fraction of seconds. The recent mishap that killed Joe Gundha screamed at her with the voice of a banshee's death warning. How skilled had Joe been? How many years had he worked in the fields before his untimely death? Was he a veteran who met his demise by one trivial mistake? Was he a roustabout green to his trade and just knew no better? Anything could happen to even the most seasoned roughneck and neither of the Plainview males was beyond harm's reach. Were they as resilient in the face of trouble as she?
Hot gusts of wind irritated her eyes with the voluminous black smoke that obscured the sky and altered the prosaic repetition she cursed before Daniel's arrival. To her, it was more supporting evidence of his angelic identity, come to change things with not even a clear blue sky exempt from his remarkable reach. Euphoria clutched her when she thought she saw her cherished father figure in the foray but was disappointed by uncertainty because everything and everyone, saturated in black, blended as one. Her compulsion to run out on the cacophonous field to inquire the whereabouts of the Plainviews conflicted with immobilisation and rationale that the men had plenty to worry about without her getting in their way. In the end, she stayed put as a submissive observer.
The fire's life burnt long after the sun died with no reprieve in sight. It seemed that Daniel's drill had tapped into the deepest bowels of Hell and showed no sign of lessening its fury. Lolling at the goat corral, Mary's morbid fascination never left the chaotic inferno. Ruth returned from the pastures with the animals and paused beside her younger sister, watching with her for a few moments.
"Did you go down?" she asked.
"No way!"
"Did you see H.W.?"
"He's not down there." Silence interrupted their chat while they stared in amazement at the hysteric scene still playing out from across the foot of the hill. "Ruth? What if he got hurt?"
Despite her maddening worry, Mary had the sense to not mention a specific name, preserving Ruth's belief that H.W. was the one to whom she referred. Comforting denial was what she wanted any way.
"I'm sure he's fine, Mary. Don't worry. Mr. Plainview knows how to handle things."
"The fire is really close to our house."
"Yeah."
"What are we going to do? What if our house burns down?"
"Mr. Plainview will have to build us a new one. He built that road leading to Eli's church and he isn't even a member. If he was that generous to Eli then he'll do right by us. He wouldn't leave us to sleep out in the desert. Especially not you. He favours you an awful lot. Good thing, too, since he'll be your future father-in-law."
"Stop it, will you? He will not be my future father-in-law."
"Sure he won't. Let's go. It's getting dark. Even though we've got that to light our way," she gestured to the tower of hellfire spitting from its subterranean recesses, "we need to get home before dark. Father won't approve if we're late."
The girls half-heartedly meandered back to the ranch, spellbound eyes hypnotised by the blazing derrick along the entire way.
"Father won't hit us anymore," Mary proclaimed. "Mr. Plainview is an angel. He'll protect us."
Ruth looked at her quizzically.
"You're so strange, Mary. I think you should become a writer."
Sleep wasn't easy for Mary with the hazardous conflagration burning intensely outside her bedroom window, sending eerie shadows to chase each other across the walls. Those shadows made Eli's suppertime conviction that Daniel had tapped into Hell to set free his demonic minions upon Little Boston more plausible. The shadows looked like demons, twisting and contorting into fantastic shapes. She bargained hard with God for her sweet guardian to be left without a scratch by the licking flames and wished he was with her now, holding her in his arms and lulling her to sleep, his great diaphanous wings unfolded and securely blanketed around her in declaration that he was there.
Some day he'll do that for me. Some day he'll let me sleep in his arms and nothing will hurt me ever again!
How selfish it was of her to dream that scenario with his current predicament! Should he be injured or killed, her one chance at freedom would be forever lost. What would happen then? Would life resume as if he was still alive or would the others pack and leave? There was Fletcher, who knew the work both physical and paper, and made it unlikely that their business would be abandoned. Then there was H.W., who she assumed would own everything pending any regrettable occurrence to Daniel, even if things had to be run by Fletcher untill the boy was old enough to own and run the business himself. Mary did not know how she could continue a life deprived of her angel. Once upon a time her life was devoid of him, it was only a brief month ago when it was, and now it was inconceivable to think of life without him.
When she rubbed her eyes to clear away the lingering sting of smoke, Mary forfeited tormented consciousness to tranquil unconsciousness. At least that was what she had hoped for. The terrible thoughts could not be exclusively banished to reality but stained her dreams with nocuous images of her beloved drowning in oceans of ebony sludge, reaching out begging her for help. But she was too small to pull him up on her own. Nobody else was around and he struggled, disappearing beneath the slippery stygian tides to resurface and fight for escape again. The harder he fought, the faster he vanished untill at last he sank and never came back up. She cried and beseeched for his return but he was lost within the inky pool.
Awakening with a jump, she quickly realised it was not because of her dream but the thunderous explosion that boomed outside. Ruth was likewise disturbed by the bouleversement and both sisters made a frenetic bound to the window to find out what was happening, struggling with the entanglement of their bed clothes. The derrick over the eponymous Mary's Well Number One was reduced to smouldering rubble, systematically snuffing out the precarious tower of hell.
"I told you not to worry so much," grated Ruth. "They know what they're doing."
"Somebody could still be hurt."
"Well, the fire's out. Go and ask."
It was already Mary's intention to do so and, because of that decision, breakfast could not end quickly enough. Nearly choking on her wolfed down food, mother advised her to eat slower or suffer indigestion or worse. By this time her high-strung emotions morphed into an entity that possessed her, had uncompromised ownership of her untill, worked to an ebullient climax, she burst from her chair and out the door. Father and Eli observed her with suspicion but it went disregarded. Her objective was to reach the Plainview cottage to check if they were safe and for the moment all else meant nothing. Liberation from father's tyranny was given by Daniel's vigilant guardian eye. Governed by her need to know what happened yesterday, she excused herself then bolted from the table and out the door, leaving behind a bewildered family to watch her retreating back.
Outside, the rancid stink of oil pervaded the air, wrinkling her nose in aversion. Splattered drops of the slick goo peppered the ground as far as the eye could see. It would take forever to clean if it ever was at all. The closer she got to the cottage, the more spare the droplets became, a clear indication of which direction the wind had been blowing. The fever of trepid peradventure sickened her thoughts with every step, nearly crippling her.
Approaching the cottage, she encountered Fletcher smoking a cigarette on the porch. He saw her coming and greeted her in a genial tone. Although his words were cheerfull, his expression bared the dolorous fatigue of an insomniac.
"Morning," she returned. "Is Mr. Plainview all right?"
Fletcher smiled wearily at her inquest.
"He's fine," was the answer and she felt stupid for doubting the prospector's expertise. "But H.W. got hurt."
Akin to barbed wire binding around the internal organs of her chest, the news paralysed her. For a moment, she couldn't breathe because doing so made everything hurt. While she had been concerned about Daniel's health, her forgetfulness of H.W. consumed her with incorrigible guilt.
"He did?" she cried. "What happened?"
"The explosion knocked him off the derrick. He's lost his hearing."
"Will he be all right?"
"Nobody knows. It's too soon to tell. He's inside if you would like to see him."
"Yes, please. Thank you."
Fletcher stepped aside and the girl crossed the threshold and beyond the open door. A few steps inside the murky, stale room, she stopped when she located the father and son. Lying on a blanket stretched out over the floor, both reclining figures were drenched with oil, the son locked in the father's secure embrace from behind. It was a touching moment as much as it was a terrifying one. Her initial thought was that they were asleep since neither moved. Then Daniel's eyes opened in a severe contrast of white within the black mess on his face.
"Hello, Mary," he addressed faintly so as to not wake the boy. "H.W. can't play with you today. He's been hurt."
"Is he going to be OK?"
Daniel sat up, groaning from the stiffness in his joints, and shook his head glumly.
"I don't know if he'll be all right," he confessed. "I can't tell you anything at this point. I don't know anything. But you're welcome to stay for a while with me, if you like."
The room was thick with the man's sorrow. He ascribed all blame on himself for what transpired and had it not been for the coat of oil he wore, she would have lightened his spirits with a loving hug. Wiping the mess from his eyes, he stood with a somnolent groan and gazed upon her affectionately.
"Would you like some goat's milk while you wait?"
"I should leave…"
"No, please. You're welcome to stay. It would be a great comfort to me if you stayed. Now how about that milk?"
Caving in, she nodded, not wishing to further distress him.
He limped to the table where there was a fresh bottle of milk and poured her a glass. She complied with his gesture to join him there, glad to alleviate his despondency however possible. Discontent riddled her mind when, in a feat of magical legerdemain, he produced the infamous flask from out of nowhere and swallowed its devil liquid. Imitating, she drank some of the milk.
"He'll be happy that you came," he told her. "He's very fond of you. I can see that you enjoy his company as well. That's good. You don't have any other children your own age to play with other than H.W., do you?"
"No. There are others but I wasn't allowed to play with them. I wasn't allowed to play at all but father made H.W. an exception. I didn't mind too much though. The others are so immature."
The declaration got Daniel to chuckle and profess, "That's my sweet little girl! Far ahead of her time!"
Inspired that she was victorious in lifting his mood, she added, "But I come here for another reason too."
Daniel smiled gently.
"Oh? What reason is that?"
"I like you."
His once anguished expression switched to a radiant one.
"You do, do you? That's nice. I like you, too. I'd like to keep you here with H.W. and me but I expect it to warrant more trouble than either of us need. At least for the moment. But it doesn't matter. You already belong to me, don't you?" When there was no response he pressed for an answer. "Don't you, Mary?"
"Yes."
He cracked another benefic smile for the young girl.
"That's right," he stated softly. "You're as much my daughter as H.W. is my son. It doesn't matter where you came from or who you reside with. Home is where the heart is and your heart is always here, isn't it?"
"Always," she consigned, earning another smile, his teeth ivory in the ebon mess.
"I'm glad. H.W. will be happy to hear it too. Except…he can't hear. Not any more. The explosion took away his hearing. Accidents happen but not to my son. For the first time in my life I don't know what to do. I'm….lost. It isn't a feeling I'm used to. I always know what to do."
The once iron-strong Daniel crumbled, downtrodden by a very dark and ominous chasm of despair. The heartbreaking affair made an unsettling wreck of him that was difficult to witness. Out of his ethereal element, her guardian angel was not indestructible. Mortal hardships compromised him, reduced him to unfamiliar vulnerability, left him emotionally decimated, just as a mortal body was frail and subject to injury, and in her generated selfish wonder about how it would affect his mission to guard her. Angels were not meant to become besieged with earthly heartaches and were not indurate to them. Ultimately, his exposure to humanity's agonies would harden his tender emotions but that wasn't likely as long as the child he loved was suffering. What saddened Mary most was that it hadn't been a blow from an enemy that enfeebled the measure of her angel but that he'd succumbed to a humane love for a child, a companion, an extension of himself. Venom had been injected directly into his soul and made him wither in the sickness.
The remnants of the flask's contents were emptied down his throat and, for a split second, she swore a tear washed the grime on his face but it was only perspiration. Easy perception showed that he was not a man who wore his emotions on the outside, turning the moment of bonding between them bittersweet. Rising from the chair, she placed a hand on his dirty shoulder, offering as much solace as she was able and he instinctively placed his hand over hers. They remained statue-still for a length of time before he removed her hand from his person.
"Let me clean up," he muttered to her. "Work still must be tended to. You can stay as long as you like. I know he would be pleased if he woke up to see you here."
She watched him leave the cabin, grabbing the pail next to the door as he went, on his way to draw water from the well. It was then that she checked the small supine form alone on the floor that had not stirred from the foetal position it was curled in. Compassion for her playmate flooded out to him through her moist gaze. What would happen to him now? How was he going to get by without the gift of sound? Despite his diffidence in his ability to do so, she was confident that Daniel would figure out a solution. He had to. Like Ruth said, Daniel always knew what to do.
Another option occurred to her: the self-proclaimed holy vessel Eli. He was a healer, a claim she believed a fraudulent con that he would hide with ridicule for Daniel but it was a chance for H.W. and an opportunity for Eli to prove his gift authentic. If he was a real healer he could restore the child's hearing and do so without reluctance, were he not simply riding high on his own hype. The death of Joe Gundha compounded with H.W.'s accident and the time wasted fishing made the well a more cursed object than it already had been without Eli's blessing…and the townspeople voiced that collective opinion in gossipy mutters. Whipsawed between capitalism and religion, Little Boston's instinctual reversion back to its roots rose a universal and progressive uprising against Daniel, these accidents were the justification. Everything worked in Eli's favour, producing a bigger smug braggart out of him. Her task would be near impossible to achieve. The adversity that marred any relationship Eli might have had with the father illogically and unjustifiably tainted his actions toward the son. The hate for the innocent boy by proxy made Mary loathe her brother exponentially and further drove the differentiated wedge between the siblings' idea of who God was. No right was given by God to Eli to condemn H.W. for whatever sins he imagined Daniel to have committed. This would be her petition for her brother's help.
As much as she thought her brother false, an ancient tie of propinquity obliged her to believe there was a scintilla of truth in Eli's Biblical abilities. Like it or not, when medical science failed he was the one person with whom H.W. had a possibility of getting well. Maybe he could be persuaded to do the right thing and help the boy. Maybe not. Whatever the outcome, she needed to try. Should the imminent refusal transpire, then it was yet one thing more to blacken his soul. After the unsubtle verbal assault against Daniel at Joe Gundha's interment, appealing to either man about the other was futile. Neither one would listen. Her only hope was to mention the blameless H.W.'s need and pinpoint that the boy hadn't done anything wrong.
After all that he had done for her, she owed it to Daniel to at least try. If it was love that felled the angel then it was love that would raise him up again. Forget its effect on others in Little Boston, including her family! Her personal life was drastically improved by his arrival and nobody could rob her of that. Not even her charlatan brother.
"I'll be back," she assured H.W., stubbornly believing that he could at least feel her presence even in slumber. "Things will get better for you, too. I promise."
Eli was found overseeing the church renovations, instructing the carpenters in his customary patronising tone so that they flashed vitriolic glares at him when his back was turned. She inconspicuously sat on the back pew, legs swinging beneath as she waited unobtrusively for him to notice her.
"Mary," he addressed when he saw her. "What are you doing here? Have you come to confess your sins to the Lord?"
"I haven't sinned," was her rebuttal.
A wry smirk in the same insulting way that he'd spoken to the carpenters flashed at her.
"We both know that is a lie," he wrongfully corrected her.
"Then what have I done?"
"Mary, Mary, Mary. How selective your memory is." He sat beside her. "You prefer the Plainviews over your own family. You take their side in every argument."
"They're my friends."
Eli scoffed. "So it seems. They are your friends. But we are your family and they are far from friending the Sunday family as a whole."
"You haven't extended an olive branch yourself, Eli."
"I have tried but it is impossible. I am limited with what I can do. Daniel is a backslider and has to save himself. I can merely guide him but he must initiate by coming to me. He has to want it. What good would his repentance be if it isn't done willingly and naturally? People tend to not be what they are forced to be. I shudder to think of the other members of his Church of the World if he epitomises them. They must all be backsliders whose singular concern is the almighty dollar. The only God Daniel worships is the black devil he takes out of the ground."
"That isn't true, Eli. He's a good man. You just don't see it." Because he outsmarts you is what she really wanted to say but didn't.
"I'm not surprised by your defence of him. He coddles you and you must think yourself a princess in the spoils he lavishes you with."
Infuriated by his amplified distaste for the Plainviews, she interjected, "H.W. got hurt in the accident last night. He can't hear any more."
The gratification splashed across Eli's boyish face was uncouth and aged him. She had tricked herself into not expecting to see it but now that she did she admitted her foolishness in hoping for a different outcome. Was there such a deficiency in Eli's character that he would take pleasure in a child's injury? Hope for the best but expect the worst! Instead of pity for the young victim, the minister's face reflected a haughty, inflated ego and a detachment that was less to be desired. The simpering bastard actually believed the accident was a warranted favour from his God.
"First the fatal accident with Joe Gundha," Eli reviewed, "now our Lord God has struck another blow against this vile, demonic backslider. And on the one person he prizes most in the world. The sins of the father shall be handed down upon the son. The boy is a degenerate who got what he deserved and his father is an unfit parent with no business seeding a child let alone raising one. God has decreed H.W.'s strife for his enthusiasm to follow in his father's footsteps. I do not feel an ounce of pity for him."
"But Eli, you're supposed to forgive and H.W. hasn't done anything to you," she implored. "He's just a boy. Can't you help him? You can heal him. Daniel will be so gratefull that he would do anything for you. I know he would! Please, Eli. H.W. needs you to lay hands on him."
"I'll lay my hands on him all right but it shall be to exact God's judgement. I see through you, Mary. I suspect that your request has more to do with the father than it has with the son. Daniel has brought this abundant misfortune on himself with his syncretic ways. He says he worships one God yet he serves another. Scepticism will be his downfall. His indifference is blasphemous, for our God is a jealous God who has no others before Him. The Plainviews mock Him and God continues to put them on bended knee. The price he's already paid is steep. What more must happen before he submits? Unchecked pride is the worst of the deadly sins. The Lord twists the arm of fate to wring the tears from Daniel's proud eyes, just to break him into submission to the One True God. This is a test for Daniel, Mary. He must learn humility. I cannot do anything to help him. I will only advise you to stand down from his side before you get hurt too."
"How can you refuse to help, Eli? If you are a true healer then it's your responsibility to help H.W. regardless of how you feel about him or Daniel. God gave you a gift and you can't refuse to help someone in need!"
Eli glared at her in a doom sayer's warning which changed into an odd warmth, obversely chilling her bones.
"It is God's will. I am helpless to prevent it."
Deciding the argument futile, Mary left the church, fuming over her brother's heartless gloating. Eli complained about Daniel's unconventionality yet he was not beyond the prospector's alleged sinister concepts himself. The young minister's sole objective was procuring the money owed to the church and he would do anything to get it. One descriptive word of Eli repeated itself in her mind: phoney.
The rest of Mary's day prioritised watching over H.W. while Fletcher stood guard outside and Daniel flitted back and forth from the drilling site to the cottage. With Fletcher's aid, Daniel wrestled the petulant boy into a bath, successfully cleaning and dressing him in fresh long johns, actions that delineated the truth behind the oil man's parental capability. Love for H.W. steered him into worried delirium that refuted Eli's contaminated hearsay. What did Eli know about being a father? Nothing, and he had no credentials to criticise a man who was a father. The whole time she was in Daniel's company she pretended that Eli's gloating schadenfreude had never been spoken, for her brother's sake as much as for the oil man's.
H.W. was restive in his illness and Mary's existence brought no disparity. During one visitation, Daniel administered a glass of goat's milk laced with whiskey as his son's medicine but it only accomplished knocking the boy unconscious. It was a quick fix remedy that at least kept H.W. where Daniel knew he would stay and provide the father with less worry.
"You'll still take care of him, won't you, sweet Mary?" Daniel solicited as he carried H.W. to bed and covered him with the blankets. "I know you will because you're a good girl and you care about him. He's more of a brother to you than that ass Eli will ever be."
Mary smiled and sat vigilant in a chair he had moved to the foot of the bed for her. He kissed her forehead, as was his custom, then returned to the field.
She would stay for as long as necessary with new implicit understanding of the appeal H.W. felt in striving to make his father happy. She wanted to follow his example, to make Daniel proud of her.
Hence, this routine was re-enacted for the next few days. A doctor made a house call to check the inner chambers of H.W.'s ears but Mary was not around for it. Daniel updated her that the examination had been a calamity with H.W. fighting hard against them every second.
"Why does he fight if you're trying to help him?" she asked.
"I don't know, Mary. Maybe he's taking after his father. A chip off the old block, so to speak."
Wretched misery devastated the otherwise strong persona before her and she couldn't resist launching herself into his arms, clutching him tight as if letting go would equal losing him. If faith truly moved mountains then love could get blood out of stones. Daniel reciprocated the embrace fiercely and despite, his perfected effort to conceal all emotion, he sniffled very faintly against her. This time she knew she felt the wetness of a tear not her own trickle down her neck.
"You're a big help, Mary," he muttered. "It does me good to have you around. You're a great comfort. Thank you so much."
He held her dearly for a long while before pulling away, smoothing her hair back and kissing her tenderly on the forehead. Caught in the moment, she did something forward and uncharacteristic when she reached out and touched his roughened face. The tears she felt seconds ago were already dried before she could actually witness them; nevertheless, she didn't have to see or be told about them. Their story was clear: he needed her and she was going to be there for him. At all costs.