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The Slough

Lena touched Esther lightly on her shoulder to get her attention, withdrew her hand and said, “What would you think if I married Mr. Ross?” She looked directly at Esther when she spoke. Esther found she couldn’t return Lena’s gaze, so she kept her eyes focused straight ahead of her, on the dirt road they’d taken out of Yorkton. A matter of a few minutes walking and they’d put their small town behind them; now they were surrounded by row after row of wheat that had reached full height and shone a vibrant supple green in the sun. Esther and Lena were going in the direction of a slough which Esther had heard people swam in. Neither of them knew how to swim; they intended to go wading.

When they’d left their boarding house that morning, Esther had assured herself that they weren’t sneaking away even though she knew that, in spirit, they were. It would have been a pity to run into Mrs. Anderson, their landlady, just as they were leaving, Esther felt. Mrs. Anderson wouldn’t have forced them to stay but, she would have ruined the mood of their outing with her suspicious eyes, her unhappy mouth, the lines from its corners pulling down. She looked at you and you remembered your evil nature, all the grossness of character and impulse that you hid from the world. And so they’d avoided Mrs. Anderson at breakfast. Instead, they’d spoken with Mrs. Uithoven, the cook, as they hurried out of house: ‘We’re going out for a walk, could you tell Mrs. Anderson? We won’t be long.’ Mrs. Uithoven had put her coffee cup down on the kitchen table and looked at them with a congenial, baffled expression. She didn’t speak English.

Esther and Lena took their shoes off at the very beginning of their walk through the wheat fields. The long skirts they wore forced them to take short steps; nevertheless, they were both fast walkers possessed of tough feet, capable of covering many miles without becoming tired. Esther had brown hair and intelligent brown eyes set close together, a square shaped face and regular features that had never been called pretty or plain. She was considerably taller than Lena, who was petite and, also, quite beautiful. All her life she’d been admired for her thick auburn hair, her pert nose, her aquamarine colored eyes and her skin that was smooth and plumped as a cherub’s. During the summer she wore her hair in a long braid and was never without a hat. “I’m not meant for this climate,” she explained to Esther. “My family is originally from England, where I’m told it always rains. I really don’t belong here, that’s why I’m always getting sunburned.” She talked in a childish voice that had indeed a trace of foreign accent; Lena was almost eighteen, but she hadn’t given up her child voice and girlish way of giggling when she smiled.

As Esther and Lena made their way through the green wheat, Esther told herself that she must answer Lena’s question, but she remained speechless instead. She’d been under the impression that she and Lena were so close they could almost read each other’s mind. It hurt her to think that she hadn’t read Mr. Ross, or even the outline of Mr. Ross.

“Why do you ask?” Esther finally said, stalling. She knew that her voice sounded critical; she couldn’t help feeling critical.

“I ask because he’s made me an offer, of course,” Lena answered. She’d taken her eyes off Esther since she’d asked her question. Now she turned to her again, smiling. “Funny. You are funny, Esther. Do you think I came up with the idea on my own?”

“Of course not,” Esther said. She glanced quickly at Lena. Her friend’s blue eyes were laughing underneath the brim of her hat.

“It’s just. I just.” Esther began explaining and then stopped, embarrassed.

“It’s just that Mr. Ross is married to Mrs. Ross. It’s just that I’m Mrs. Ross’ nurse.”

“Yes,” Esther said. Lena’s boldness of speech amazed her.

“Mrs. Ross is dying, Esther. The doctor told Mr. Ross that she might not live to the end of the year. Mr. Ross needs someone to carry on with. We’ve become very close during these four months.”

Esther realized that she’d seen it, almost read it in Lena’s mind – not the closeness, but its resulting happiness. Little pictures came to her and clicked, formed a whole: Lena humming as she hung her clothes to dry; Lena petting the cat, Blossom, and smiling to herself; Lena coming into her bedroom and dancing with her. “I will teach you how to dance one day! No, I’ll teach you now.” Putting her arms around her waist. Showing her the steps. One-two-three-four-one-two-three-four. Esther had wanted to say, ‘I can’t. My religion prohibits dancing.’ She’d been speechless then too. The most beautiful person she’d ever known was dancing with her in her room. She’d thought, here is how it feels to live; people live for precisely this.

“Mrs. Ross would like us to marry. She loves Mr. Ross so much that she doesn’t want him to be alone, and she thinks I’d make him the perfect wife.”

Esther said, “My father promised my mother that he wouldn’t remarry if she died. And then she did die. I think he’ll keep his promise.”

“Esther, your father has eight children. It’s different. He has your two older sisters and brother to help him and keep him company. Mr. and Mrs. Ross don’t have children because Mrs. Ross became an invalid immediately after they married. Mr. Ross is still young and handsome, smart. It’s right that he should have a family of his own.”

“I suppose it is,” Esther said carefully. She couldn’t refute Lena’s reasoning, but there was no conviction in her voice.

“Don’t say, suppose,” Lena answered playfully. She touched Esther’s shoulder once more, withdrew her hand. “You must agree with me wholeheartedly, Esther. Agree that Mr. Ross deserves a second chance. Agree I’d make a good wife. Say he’ll be a good husband. Keep in mind that this isn’t his idea alone. Mrs. Ross encouraged him and has given us her blessing.”

“You talked to her?” Esther asked abruptly, still looking straight ahead, down the dirt road.

“Not exactly. Mrs. Ross sleeps all the time, she doesn’t have the strength to speak. Her heart is failing a little every day. Have you ever seen someone die?”

“No,” Esther said. She thought of her mother’s glittering eyes during the last days of her illness. She would stand at her mother’s bedroom door to watch her sleep and feel her throat constricting with premature grief; she hadn’t been at her mother’s bedside when she died.

“Mr. Ross wants me with him when Mrs. Ross passes away. I’m scared. Tell me, what’s he like at school? Does everybody love him?”

Lena had stopped going to school at the age of fifteen, after her father was killed in a logging accident. She and her three sisters had been hired out across Canada by their mother: respectable positions in respectable homes.

Esther had heard one rumor about Mr. Ross. People whispered that he was poisoning his wife. A terrible rumor to repeat; in fact, she wouldn’t repeat it. She said simply, “I can’t tell you much about school. I’m a bookworm, people don’t talk to me.”

But Mr. Ross had talked to her once. Esther decided that she wouldn’t tell Lena about that either. Mr. Ross had called her into his office. She sat down in the chair he pointed to, her hands shaking. He smiled at her from behind his desk. He had big white teeth.

“I wanted to meet the best student in the class. I’ve had several of your teachers say that they’ve never taught a student as bright as you.”

Esther was taken aback. She replied, “Oh, that can’t be correct.”

“I’m afraid it is,” Mr. Ross answered. He seemed amused. He had dark eyes and flashing black hair, a neat mustache above his big teeth. She held still her trembling hands while he asked questions. What’s your favorite subject? What’s it like at Mrs. Anderson’s? How many brothers and sisters do you have? You miss the country? He seemed amused again. He told her she was a nice young lady, then he stood up. Esther thought that he wasn’t as tall as he seemed when he was sitting behind his desk. He held her eye and she had to look away. Esther left his office. She could hear springs creaking when he sat back down in his chair.

The doctor said that Mrs. Ross might not last till the end of the year. What day was it? Esther asked herself. August eleven, in the year nineteen-fifteen. That meant that her mother had been dead almost nine months. Esther had promised her mother that she would become a teacher, not a farmer’s wife. Her mother had sent her to room at Mrs. Anderson’s in order to finish school in town. She’d sent her off with three dresses and a list of rules: never swear, play card games or dance; attend mass every Sunday; think carefully before you speak and never lie; don’t make friends with just anyone, no matter how lonely you are. Esther had been more lonely than she’d known possible at Mrs. Anderson’s, and then one day, Lena had appeared. Lena was certainly not just anyone.

A willow stand came into their view – this was the slough’s marker. They had half a mile more to walk, Esther estimated, some of it uphill. She felt the sun becoming warmer, penetrating; moisture formed on her nose and she wiped it away.

“Is that where our slough will be?” Lena asked, pointing to the trees.

“I think so,” Esther said. She was grateful for the way Lena always asked her opinion. She should give her opinion – there would be a scandal if Lena married Mr. Ross, because of the poison rumors and because Lena was beautiful, bursting with health, while Mrs. Ross had been introduced to everyone when she was already sickly and dull. And she should tell Lena that, scandal or no, it couldn’t be right for Mr. Ross to fall in love with another woman while Mrs. Ross lay dying. Esther remembered her own father breaking down after her mother’s funeral; he held onto a cedar tree in back of their house, wept.

Esther felt a breeze come from behind; it lifted her dress and bent the sea of green wheat, stirred the long branches of the willow trees ahead of them.

“It looks like we’ll have to leave the road now,” Esther said.

Their dirt road veered away from the willows, so they abandoned it and began making their way through tall rough grass, always going in the direction of the trees. Esther’s skirt hampered the movement of her legs as they climbed up. She gathered the front of her skirt in her free hand and raised it so that her calves were exposed. Her walk became natural again.

“Ah,” Lena muttered suddenly. “Drat and double drat.”

Esther stopped and turned around. Lena was bending down to examine her foot.

“I stubbed my toe. Or maybe something bit me. I’m fine I think.”

“Are you sure?” Esther asked.

“Yes, yes,” Lena answered. She spoke a little curtly, Esther thought. Lena was irritated with her for not being enthusiastic about Mr. Ross’ proposal. What could she do?

They continued walking. When they reached the trees Esther let go of her skirt; she parted the willow branches and stepped inside their opening, entered the umbrella of shade. She held the branches aside for Lena, who stepped in immediately after her. They put down their shoes and Lena took off her hat. Esther could see that some of Lena’s hair had escaped her braid and was sticking to her temples, her bare feet were dusty and her breath was short because of the strenuous walk.

“Oh, it’s nice here,” Lena said. She smiled, blue eyes lighting up. And Esther

thought – just like an angel. She had to look away. It was too hard for her to believe that Lena had asked whether she should marry Mr. Ross; too hard to believe that she would consider doing something so indelicate.

Lena said, “Where’s the water?”

“It should be on the other side,” Esther answered. She left the cover of willows and stood in the sun again, looked west, shading her eyes. She found that they were standing on top of a significant ridge. The slough was immediately beneath them, glossy and narrow like a platinum knife slicing into the earth. Esther searched the slough’s surface for movement, but there was nothing to be seen, not a single reed or even a stray bird.

Lena ducked out of the willows to stand beside Esther. She said, “I’d imagined that it would be bigger. It’s not what I pictured.”

“I know,” Esther agreed.

“Still, it’s cool water on a hot day,” Lena offered. Enthusiasm had entered her voice, Esther could hear it, and she felt relieved. Lena wasn’t angry with her any more.

Lena put her arms out like wings. “Let’s race,” she said. Immediately, she began running downhill, towards the slough’s sandy banks. Esther waited an instant and then followed, feeling light headed. She was glad that Lena arrived first.

Once at the water’s bank, she and Lena took off their long dresses. Lena folded her dress neatly and so Esther, who had let her dress simply drop to the sandy ground, picked it up and folded it too. In their long slips they remained almost entirely covered, only their arms and their collarbones were more exposed.

“I’ll turn red as a tomato out here,” Lena said.

Esther laughed and Lena play-acted devastation. “You’re cruel. You have no idea how mortifying it is to look like a vegetable.”

“We’ll stay just long enough to cool off,” Esther answered.

As she spoke she walked to the slough’s edge and stepped into the water. Instead of touching ground she plunged downwards. Reflexively, as she plunged, she caught and held her breath. She didn’t have time to cry out and she didn’t feel afraid. Then her feet hit bottom, her falling stopped short and she pitched forward, regained her balance just before going under.

Esther heard her name being called by Lena but she couldn’t respond. The slough water reached the middle of her neck and this simple reality paralyzed her. She stayed entirely immobile except for the inhaling and exhaling of her breath, which came and went in gasps. Lena shouted that she should turn around. Esther lifted her arms up out of the water. It would be impolite, she felt, not to do as Lena said. She willed herself to turn in order to face Lena and the slough’s bank. As she began turning she had the sickening sensation that she would pitch forward again and go under; she fought the sensation off. When she finally faced the bank her eyes were level with the land.

Esther lifted her gaze up and saw that Lena had dropped to her knees. She was leaning towards her, arms stretched out.

“Hang onto me, Esther,” she directed. Her voice was hoarse; it had lost its usual girlish quality.

Esther lifted her arms up and out of the water – they seemed grotesquely weak to her. Lena grasped Esther’s hands firmly in hers, then pulled back. Esther could feel her arms stretching out of their sockets while her body remained put. She realized at once that Lena couldn’t lift her out of the slough, and neither could she climb out by herself. Lena would have to get help, but the idea of remaining there alone, immersed in water, terrified her; she would not let Lena leave.

“I think we should rest a minute, then try again,” Esther said. Lena let go of her hands and Esther allowed her arms to sink back down into the water. She put her palms forward against the muddy wall of the slough and thought, in a matter of fact way, I will probably die here. And then she told herself that she wouldn’t drown as long as she stayed near Lena and the bank. Lena continued kneeling above her, her face flushed red and her auburn braid almost completely unraveled.

“I can lift you out, I know I can,” Lena said. She spoke bitterly, as though she’d lost an argument.

“I know you can too,” Esther answered. She was putting her friend to a terrible amount of trouble, she felt. “I’m not cold anymore.” She had just become aware of the water’s slick iciness.

“I could get a branch to pull you out with,” Lena said, standing up and scanning the slough’s banks. “There are more willows over there.” She pointed to her right. Esther looked down the length of the slough in the direction of Lena’s finger. Young willows were growing at the narrow end of the bog. Esther knew that they were important, but she wasn’t sure why. She stared at them and told herself to think. When her idea came to her it was fully formed, directive.

“Lena,” Esther said, “if I can get to those trees I should be able to pull myself up by their roots. Their roots will be growing along the slough’s walls. I can walk to the trees, I think.”

Lena clapped her hands. “That’s a good idea, Esther. You’re so smart, so quick. Mr. Ross told me that you’re the best in your class. Lucky for me. I’d never have thought to use the roots.”

Esther kept her left hand against the smooth slough’s wall for security and, her right arm out for balance, she began walking. Lena took small birdlike steps alongside of her, encouraging her the entire way. Twice Esther stopped and wouldn’t continue because the slough’s floor dipped down and she was sure that the water would become impossibly deep. Both times Lena urged her on. Esther kept her eyes trained straight on the willows and tried not to think about what had happened to her; if she thought about it, the sickening sensation of losing her balance and pitching forward returned.

Before arriving directly under the trees, Esther’s hand brushed against a protruding root. “I’ve got one,” she said.

Lena jumped from foot to foot excitedly. “Thank God, Esther. Thank God.”

Esther held onto the root with her left hand and began exploring the space above it with her right. She found another larger root that was high enough for her to use as a rung. She held onto this large root with both hands.

“Here I go,” she said. She counted to three and hoisted herself up with her arms, digging her feet directly into the bank and climbing as she lifted up. She left the muddy floor. Now the water reached below her shoulders. Keeping her grip with her left hand and her feet, Esther began probing the bank again, searching for a still higher root for use as another rung. She could sense the slough sucking her back into itself, and she could feel her heavy clothes flowing stupidly down. A quiet anger filled her. She found a mass of small roots and grasped them as a group with one hand, hoisted herself up again, forcing her toes into the slough’s walls so that again she wasn’t supporting herself solely with her arms. Esther could hear the water dripping from her underclothes into the water.

“You did it Esther,” Lena shouted. “You’re almost out.”

Esther couldn’t let go of the roots that she clung to. Her toes began slipping from the wedges she’d forced in the slough. She wasn’t angry any longer.

“Give me your hand, Esther,” Lena ordered.

Esther held out her hand. Lena took it with both of hers and pulled, using her entire body for leverage. Esther scrambled her feet up against the slough wall and then fell forward. Lena let go of her as she fell and Esther hit the ground stomach first and then with her face. She turned her head so that one of her cheeks rested against the soft earth. From her new position, the world seemed to her all blinding sun and blue sky.

“Esther, say something. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Esther answered.

“Esther, I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to pull you out. And when I first saw you step in the water and go down, disappear, well, I think my heart stopped.”

“It was awful, Lena. It was horrible,” Esther answered. She had a bad taste in her mouth. The water had been the ugliest in the world; it had pulled her backwards, sucked her in. Lena had saved her. Her hand hurt from the force of Lena’s grip. Esther remembered Lena in her bedroom holding her waist and saying, ‘I will teach you how to dance. One-two-three-four.’ As they walked out of Yorkton she had asked, ‘What would you think if I married Mr. Ross?’ She had said, ‘Mrs. Ross might not live to the end of the year.’ The year was nineteen-fifteen; the day August eleven. One day her mother said, ‘I have a stomach ache.’ Her illness had started like that.

Lena said, “Sit up, would you? I don’t like to see you lying there so still.”

Esther sat up. She saw that sand was sticking to her arms and underclothes. How would she clean herself? A desperation came over her; she wanted to cry. She looked at Lena who was sitting across from her. Lena’s blue eyes were brimming with tears that didn’t fall. Esther realized neither of them would cry.

Lena said, “A little walk will help now.”

Esther didn’t understand what she meant, but she guessed that Lena was probably right. Together they stood up and walked side by side to where they’d left their dresses. Lena put her dress back on but Esther hesitated. She said she thought she should let her underskirts dry first. It was terrible, to be so dirty. Lena agreed. They walked back uphill to the cluster of willow trees. Lena sat in the tree shade while Esther sat outside of the cool circle. She spread her underskirts around her so that they would soak in the late morning sun, she was too modest to take them off. Esther could see that the slough beneath them was absolutely still again. This stillness shocked her a little; it was strange that she hadn’t left even a temporary mark.

Lena spoke from the willows behind Esther. She said, “I’d have drowned if I’d stepped into the slough before you. I’m a head shorter than you are. I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself above water.”

This statement gave Esther another shock. Immediately she began to answer Lena. She wanted to comfort her, assure her that she wouldn’t have drowned if she’d fallen in first; for Esther felt positive that she would have managed to save her friend, somehow. Esther began to speak but then checked herself; she had to admit that the slough had been very deep, and it was true that neither of them knew how to swim. She lost confidence. And so she remained quiet, she never answered Lena, because she couldn’t be sure that the words she wished to say were true.

altri racconti di Natalia Nebel

In addition to the four novels I've written, my short stories and translations have been published in a variety of magazines, including Triquarterly, Chicago Quarterly Review, Seems, ELM, Greene Magazine, Primavera, Free Verse Magazine, Fifth Wednesday, Prague Review, and Great Lakes Review. I've had the pleasure of writing book reviews for Chicago's Newcity and Another Chicago magazine, and articles of mine on Italian cultural events can be found in i-Italy. I've had a short story nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and my novel FALLING was a finalist in the John Heekin Unpublished Novels contest.