John set out one of the dining chairs beneath the willow for Louis. The air was cool and gentle there. John hooked a thumb in a belt loop of Louis' trousers. His arm was slung across John's shoulders. It proved a fair test of that hurt hand as he helped Louis downstairs and out into the yard. He could feel the bifurcated flesh moving independent of one another. John pursed his lips and felt tears fill his eyes. Didn't help that Louis' legs were about as firm as wet spaghetti. Felt like no small milestone when at last they reached the back step.
“Step down,” said John, wanting to scream from pain. Instead he clenched his teeth and gave hardly more than a stifled groan.
“Just a little farther,” he said.
John was already dreading the idea of getting Louis back up the stairs. If it was a warm enough night, he mused, he'd just as soon leave Louis under the tree. Throw a blanket over him and that would be that. Or maybe set him out on the curb with a bushel of apples that Louis could sell at 2 cents a pound to help earn his keep. The thought made John smile, tempering the pain in his hand just enough.
It was a near perfect day. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. Now and again small puffy-white clouds glided eastward, carried on a silken breeze that washed through the yard with the lemon-pepper scent of fresh cut grass somewhere. John breathed it in deeply, carried bck to his childhood for a moment, and the perfectness of rolling in freshly cut wet grass. The breeze headed off across the yard to the tree line and small creek. Beyond the line of trees a pair of burly brown horses pulled a plow across the hillside.
“Feel like an invalid,” said Louis as John deposited him in the chair.
“Far cry from last night.” There was fresh blood in the bandages. John held the hand to his chest. “Suppose you don’t recall running across the yard like your pants were on fire?”
“Not a thing.”
That so?” John gave Louis a long suspect look. “Screaming to the stars. Suppose you don’t remember none of that either?”
Louis cocked his head, as if he didn't or couldn't understand what John was saying. Just then a car pulled up out front. Three doors opened and shut quickly. On that quiet little street such a thing was enough to draw John's attention immediately.
It wasn’t a moment before George Bremer rounded the corner of the house with two young deputies in tow. Their expressions were artificially austere, as if any affront to the law was a personal assault. By contrast Old George was serious but aloof, as though this was nothing more than a task, akin to washing the dishes or tending some meddlesome repair. John stepped forward, placing himself squarely between Louis and the lawmen.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Emmetsburg: Forty-four
“How's the wife?” asked Bremer, following C.W. around to the back of the coupe. The heat of the day made him sluggish and distracted. He fought for focus on the grim task before him, concentrating on the dead girl’s family. There was nothing to be done for her. It was the family who would cry for justice and vengeance. Theirs would be the burden of the living. Justice is never for the dead.
“She runs good,” C.W. winked with a grin. He laid a hand in the trunk. “Ready for this?”
George drew a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth, to little effect. “Sure is a stinker.”
“That she is, poor thing.”
“Welp,” Bremer rallied himself. “open her up, let's have a look.”
The latch had broken in the crash. C.W had to lean on the trunk with his full weight and pull at the edges at the same time. It opened grudgingly, creaking loudly. Bremer's brow crumbled. He turned his head aside, then shook it slowly. He gave a weighted sigh and spit into the ditch.
“Haven't called the State Police just yet,” said C.W. “Wanted to run all this by you first.”
“Close her up.”
George went around the side. C.W followed. He could see it in George's face. He could see George knew something more.
“Got an idea you know who did this?”
“State Police will just come in and make a circus of things, claim credit and get folks all riled up.”
“I'm listening.”
“Keep this quiet a bit,” said Bremer. “I'll take her over to Brennan's funeral home, get her cleaned up a bit.”
“Got an idea who might have done this.”
George waved over the tow truck driver. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and squinted against the bright sunlight at C.W. He'd heard of the stranger up at John Perkin's place. Putting two and two together was about as simple as things get in the Sheriff-ing business. He'd have a chat with the tow truck driver and ask Joe Brennan to keep this quiet for a while. No need to give folks a reason to worry, have them locking their doors at night and getting all out of sorts for no reason. He nodded slowly.
“Got an idea.”
“She runs good,” C.W. winked with a grin. He laid a hand in the trunk. “Ready for this?”
George drew a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth, to little effect. “Sure is a stinker.”
“That she is, poor thing.”
“Welp,” Bremer rallied himself. “open her up, let's have a look.”
The latch had broken in the crash. C.W had to lean on the trunk with his full weight and pull at the edges at the same time. It opened grudgingly, creaking loudly. Bremer's brow crumbled. He turned his head aside, then shook it slowly. He gave a weighted sigh and spit into the ditch.
“Haven't called the State Police just yet,” said C.W. “Wanted to run all this by you first.”
“Close her up.”
George went around the side. C.W followed. He could see it in George's face. He could see George knew something more.
“Got an idea you know who did this?”
“State Police will just come in and make a circus of things, claim credit and get folks all riled up.”
“I'm listening.”
“Keep this quiet a bit,” said Bremer. “I'll take her over to Brennan's funeral home, get her cleaned up a bit.”
“Got an idea who might have done this.”
George waved over the tow truck driver. He stuffed the handkerchief back into his pocket and squinted against the bright sunlight at C.W. He'd heard of the stranger up at John Perkin's place. Putting two and two together was about as simple as things get in the Sheriff-ing business. He'd have a chat with the tow truck driver and ask Joe Brennan to keep this quiet for a while. No need to give folks a reason to worry, have them locking their doors at night and getting all out of sorts for no reason. He nodded slowly.
“Got an idea.”
Emmetsburg: Forty-three
I, searching
I, absurd
Am, the wind
Am, contradiction
You, the world
You, salvation
Are, absurd
Are, searching
C.W. settled down on the running board of the Twenty-eight black Chevy wrecker. The cool shade of the square two seater cab fell across his shoulders, in stark contrast as C.W. tilted his face to the warm morning sun. He gave a burdened sigh, unable to escape the image of the woman in the trunk of the car on the hook at the back of the Wrecker. He thought about her life, about her death and about the man who might have killed her. The thought left him far colder than the sun could possibly warm him.
There was only so much he could tell about the woman. She’d been dead about a week, as near as he could tell. There was a fair amount of guessing in that estimate. Time, the creek nd the elements had seen to whatever beauty she possessed. In such a state it was difficult to surmise her age to any safe degree. By the tone of her slender calve C.W. thought she was in her Twenties, but anything beyond that was pure speculation.
In the still humid air the sickly-sweetness of decomposition was inescapable. It was evident right from the start, chasing the owner of the tow truck up the road a ways, leaving C.W. alone to discover the body. Her hands and ankles had been tied with long strips of cloth. A robe was wrapped tightly around the woman’s throat, enough that her blackened, swollen tongue protruded grotesquely from her lips. The eyes, now dark plastic pools were open wide.
It was difficult to remember the last time anyone had seen a murder around in Emmetsburg, or the county. Murder was something that happened far away. It was the product of a frustrated soul who could see no other way. It was the product of a weakened and selfish soul who lacked the will of muscling through and the culture of getting by. Murder was, in the end, a lack of commitment to God and the community for the believers, and humanity and civilization for the non-believer. It was a rare thing for folks in these parts to fail at a commitment. Like bad harvests, cruel winters and broken hearts, they somehow found the strength to weather through the toughest times.
A car approached from Emmetsburg. C.W. looked up, recognizing George Bremer’s dark Ford instantly. It cleared a rise, bouncing almost comically as it came down the other side. Inside Bremer’s elbows, the hands wrapped tightly around the wheel, flapped like clipped wings on a goose. C.W. stood, removing his hat and fanning himself with it. Bremer pulled to a stop across from the Wrecker, partly off the road. Climbing out, George managed a respectful smile. He met C.W. in the road with a handshake, the smell of death drawing his attention instantly.
“Came as quick as I could,” said Bremer.
“Wish it was under better circumstances.”
The two met in the middle of the road with a warm handshake. Still holding firmly to C.W.,s strong calloused hand, George looked back along the road to the tow truck driver. George knew him from St. Mary’s, knew him to be a good family man with two small girls. He seemed terribly upset by all this. Wasn’t a regular thing for a murder to happen here. He was standing up a ways, far enough to keep away from that awful smell. A cigarette burned away in the man’s trembling fingers. He nodded sharply to George and looked off across the fields.
“He find the body?” asked George.
“Said he knew something was amiss the moment he got out of his truck. He hauled the car out of the creek, but I found the body.”
“Looks pretty shook up.”
“I’d say so,” C.W. agreed.
Bremer laid a hand on C.W.’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You holding up okay? Heard about that mess at Bert Himmel’s place.”
C.W. thought a moment, squinted through the bright sunlight. “Trying to be mindful of folks through these inspections. Tell ya, George, got my own misgivings about those tests.”
“Can see that. Think a lot of folks do.”
“Getting out of hand, though. Think this’ll get worse before it gets better.”
“Can’t have a bunch of rabble-rousers putting you off your sworn appointments either. The law is the law. Pay a lot of smarter people than us to make ‘em.”
“Trying not to start a war here, George.”
Bremer agreed, twisting his mouth trying to figure all the permutations. “If it was me, I’d stop this cold, C.W.”
“How so?”
“Bring up a bunch of State police bruisers, and if this keeps up, give ‘em what for.”
“Violence.”
“I’ll bet there’s a couple stirring things up, like this fella, Avery Lysander, who was stoking things in town the other night.”
“Pegged old Avery right.”
“Maybe someone ought to go havea look at his place.”
“Reckon?”
“Show of overwhelming force and most of ‘em will run from Lysander,” said Bremer. “Then you put the fear of god into him.”
“Coming your way next with these inspections.”
Bremer nodded agreeably, “I’ve already been on the phone with the governor. He talked to Hoover himself, n they’re both inclined to send down the National Guard.”
I, absurd
Am, the wind
Am, contradiction
You, the world
You, salvation
Are, absurd
Are, searching
C.W. settled down on the running board of the Twenty-eight black Chevy wrecker. The cool shade of the square two seater cab fell across his shoulders, in stark contrast as C.W. tilted his face to the warm morning sun. He gave a burdened sigh, unable to escape the image of the woman in the trunk of the car on the hook at the back of the Wrecker. He thought about her life, about her death and about the man who might have killed her. The thought left him far colder than the sun could possibly warm him.
There was only so much he could tell about the woman. She’d been dead about a week, as near as he could tell. There was a fair amount of guessing in that estimate. Time, the creek nd the elements had seen to whatever beauty she possessed. In such a state it was difficult to surmise her age to any safe degree. By the tone of her slender calve C.W. thought she was in her Twenties, but anything beyond that was pure speculation.
In the still humid air the sickly-sweetness of decomposition was inescapable. It was evident right from the start, chasing the owner of the tow truck up the road a ways, leaving C.W. alone to discover the body. Her hands and ankles had been tied with long strips of cloth. A robe was wrapped tightly around the woman’s throat, enough that her blackened, swollen tongue protruded grotesquely from her lips. The eyes, now dark plastic pools were open wide.
It was difficult to remember the last time anyone had seen a murder around in Emmetsburg, or the county. Murder was something that happened far away. It was the product of a frustrated soul who could see no other way. It was the product of a weakened and selfish soul who lacked the will of muscling through and the culture of getting by. Murder was, in the end, a lack of commitment to God and the community for the believers, and humanity and civilization for the non-believer. It was a rare thing for folks in these parts to fail at a commitment. Like bad harvests, cruel winters and broken hearts, they somehow found the strength to weather through the toughest times.
A car approached from Emmetsburg. C.W. looked up, recognizing George Bremer’s dark Ford instantly. It cleared a rise, bouncing almost comically as it came down the other side. Inside Bremer’s elbows, the hands wrapped tightly around the wheel, flapped like clipped wings on a goose. C.W. stood, removing his hat and fanning himself with it. Bremer pulled to a stop across from the Wrecker, partly off the road. Climbing out, George managed a respectful smile. He met C.W. in the road with a handshake, the smell of death drawing his attention instantly.
“Came as quick as I could,” said Bremer.
“Wish it was under better circumstances.”
The two met in the middle of the road with a warm handshake. Still holding firmly to C.W.,s strong calloused hand, George looked back along the road to the tow truck driver. George knew him from St. Mary’s, knew him to be a good family man with two small girls. He seemed terribly upset by all this. Wasn’t a regular thing for a murder to happen here. He was standing up a ways, far enough to keep away from that awful smell. A cigarette burned away in the man’s trembling fingers. He nodded sharply to George and looked off across the fields.
“He find the body?” asked George.
“Said he knew something was amiss the moment he got out of his truck. He hauled the car out of the creek, but I found the body.”
“Looks pretty shook up.”
“I’d say so,” C.W. agreed.
Bremer laid a hand on C.W.’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You holding up okay? Heard about that mess at Bert Himmel’s place.”
C.W. thought a moment, squinted through the bright sunlight. “Trying to be mindful of folks through these inspections. Tell ya, George, got my own misgivings about those tests.”
“Can see that. Think a lot of folks do.”
“Getting out of hand, though. Think this’ll get worse before it gets better.”
“Can’t have a bunch of rabble-rousers putting you off your sworn appointments either. The law is the law. Pay a lot of smarter people than us to make ‘em.”
“Trying not to start a war here, George.”
Bremer agreed, twisting his mouth trying to figure all the permutations. “If it was me, I’d stop this cold, C.W.”
“How so?”
“Bring up a bunch of State police bruisers, and if this keeps up, give ‘em what for.”
“Violence.”
“I’ll bet there’s a couple stirring things up, like this fella, Avery Lysander, who was stoking things in town the other night.”
“Pegged old Avery right.”
“Maybe someone ought to go havea look at his place.”
“Reckon?”
“Show of overwhelming force and most of ‘em will run from Lysander,” said Bremer. “Then you put the fear of god into him.”
“Coming your way next with these inspections.”
Bremer nodded agreeably, “I’ve already been on the phone with the governor. He talked to Hoover himself, n they’re both inclined to send down the National Guard.”
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Emmetsburg: Forty-two
Silk Black. The crunch of shovels offended the midnight peace behind Avery Lysander’s barn. The air was scented with newly disturbed earth, diesel and the sickly musk of the dead calf still chained to the back of Avery’s tractor. It was the second of his cows to die in as many months. Not far away the first grave was conspicuous by hay and some rusting farm implements strewn to appear random upon the rectangular patch of barren earth.
Avery paused with a shovel full of dirt and loose stone and warily tried to gauge what might be running through the minds of Ernie Vogel, Myron Himmel. The men were at the far end of the hole, curiously quiet. They were a good three feet into the dark earth. The moon was just coming up, filling the hole with silk black shadow, so that it appeared the three men were wading in some nocturnal pool. Empty fields and hills swallowed the sound of their work, long before it might have been heard. The nearest farm was the better part of a mile away. Myron lifted another shovel full of dirt and paused.
“Government really run by Communists like you say, Mister Lysander?” Myron threw another hovel full of dirt onto the growing pile beside the hole.
“Communists in the government,” said Avery, “bank-rolled by the Jews who own the banks.” He wiped line of sweat from his brow.
“Can’t imagine they own all the banks,” Ernie Vogel scoffed a bit, pulling another shovel full.”
“Awe, don’t listen to that sap, Myron. What do you think this whole cow scare is all about, huh? It ain’t about some sick cows. It’s about money, pure and simple.”
“How’d ya figure?” asked Myron.
“Simple, boy. Can’t ya see what is staring you in the eyes?”
Vogel spit into the would-be grave and leaned heavily on his shovel. He’d been ruminating over a thought all night. Fatigue and the late our only served to encourage it. “Cows got the bug, Avery.”
“Because two come up sick,” Avery shot back bitterly, “don’t mean they’re all sick.”
“Got to admit, there’s a pretty good chance…”
“Just have to get the rest to slaughter. One more week, that’s all.”
“What if it makes someone sick, that meat,” offered Myron, “like Sherriff Saunders said?”
Avery let the shovel fall. It hit the ground with a combined metallic wood sound. He went to Myron and Ernie, folding his arms and looking upon them as if he was about to recite a sermon. The building rage in his expression drew both men to a wrapped and humbled silence.
“Boys, its all nonsense! We’ve all been around sick animals all our lives. The tuberculosis has come and gone before. Any of us ever come up sick? Anyone we know? Don’t buy all this crud. We don’t look out for one another against the Jews and Communists in the government, who will?”
Avery knew. He knew that to rule meant to divide and sub-divide the world into simple parts pitted against one another, and then to carefully manage those divisions. It is a simple thing, as that is simple heart’s singular weakness. The door to that heart was fear and ignorance masquerading as anger. It wanted to rush through that door and rampage in the world as an orgy of self interest. Avery looked into the wavering souls before him and threw open their doors fully. If that failed there was always the law.
“I don’t know,” Myron shook his head, staring into the ground.
Ernie Vogel was staring at the dead cow a few yards away. “Got to go with the kid on this one, Avery.”
“And what do you think’s gonna happen if someone gets a whiff about my two,” he emphasized two, “my two cows when they hear you fellas helped me bury the evidence? You don’t think those inspectors’ll be at your door like yesterday?”
The boy looked to Vogel, who gave a heavy sigh. Crime and secrets were the scoundrels surest road to guaranteeing obedience among the weaker willed..
“Myron,” Avery continued, his voice firm but sympathetic, “you went from a man overnight. Didn’t even let you catch your breath and that Commie sympathizer Sheriff brings the government right to your door! They pick on the weak and all alone. I mean, we all know them tests don’t work, but what do you suppose would happen if them inspectors didn’t find a single sick cow? What’s some young kid and his widowed mom gonna say when they condemn your whole herd, huh? Nothing, that’s what! A holy man without a congregation is just talking to the walls. A Jew is poor like an honest Catholic without someone else’s money, and a Communist from the government takes power by enslaving the working man. Only way for folks like us to keep what we worked and fought and bled for it to stick together.”
Vogel wasn’t entirely convinced. “Don’t know, Avery. Besides, bunch of poor farmers can’t fight the federal government.”
“Know what?” Avery was indignant. “Don’t want anybody in this fight who doesn’t have the stomach for it. No half way here, boys. Think the founding fathers of this great land, fighting for the freedom of all of us, went half way? God no! They risked everything, their lives, their families, their fortunes. They stood together.”
Avery picked up the shovels and held them out, begging and daring each to reach for one. In doing so Avery could count that he held them fully. Myron was first. Ernie Vogel bowed his head and looked away. Avery sneered and shook his head. He tossed the shovel on the grass beside Vogel and went back to work with Myron. Ernie stood and picked up the shovel. He studied it in his hands a moment before joining the others.
Avery paused with a shovel full of dirt and loose stone and warily tried to gauge what might be running through the minds of Ernie Vogel, Myron Himmel. The men were at the far end of the hole, curiously quiet. They were a good three feet into the dark earth. The moon was just coming up, filling the hole with silk black shadow, so that it appeared the three men were wading in some nocturnal pool. Empty fields and hills swallowed the sound of their work, long before it might have been heard. The nearest farm was the better part of a mile away. Myron lifted another shovel full of dirt and paused.
“Government really run by Communists like you say, Mister Lysander?” Myron threw another hovel full of dirt onto the growing pile beside the hole.
“Communists in the government,” said Avery, “bank-rolled by the Jews who own the banks.” He wiped line of sweat from his brow.
“Can’t imagine they own all the banks,” Ernie Vogel scoffed a bit, pulling another shovel full.”
“Awe, don’t listen to that sap, Myron. What do you think this whole cow scare is all about, huh? It ain’t about some sick cows. It’s about money, pure and simple.”
“How’d ya figure?” asked Myron.
“Simple, boy. Can’t ya see what is staring you in the eyes?”
Vogel spit into the would-be grave and leaned heavily on his shovel. He’d been ruminating over a thought all night. Fatigue and the late our only served to encourage it. “Cows got the bug, Avery.”
“Because two come up sick,” Avery shot back bitterly, “don’t mean they’re all sick.”
“Got to admit, there’s a pretty good chance…”
“Just have to get the rest to slaughter. One more week, that’s all.”
“What if it makes someone sick, that meat,” offered Myron, “like Sherriff Saunders said?”
Avery let the shovel fall. It hit the ground with a combined metallic wood sound. He went to Myron and Ernie, folding his arms and looking upon them as if he was about to recite a sermon. The building rage in his expression drew both men to a wrapped and humbled silence.
“Boys, its all nonsense! We’ve all been around sick animals all our lives. The tuberculosis has come and gone before. Any of us ever come up sick? Anyone we know? Don’t buy all this crud. We don’t look out for one another against the Jews and Communists in the government, who will?”
Avery knew. He knew that to rule meant to divide and sub-divide the world into simple parts pitted against one another, and then to carefully manage those divisions. It is a simple thing, as that is simple heart’s singular weakness. The door to that heart was fear and ignorance masquerading as anger. It wanted to rush through that door and rampage in the world as an orgy of self interest. Avery looked into the wavering souls before him and threw open their doors fully. If that failed there was always the law.
“I don’t know,” Myron shook his head, staring into the ground.
Ernie Vogel was staring at the dead cow a few yards away. “Got to go with the kid on this one, Avery.”
“And what do you think’s gonna happen if someone gets a whiff about my two,” he emphasized two, “my two cows when they hear you fellas helped me bury the evidence? You don’t think those inspectors’ll be at your door like yesterday?”
The boy looked to Vogel, who gave a heavy sigh. Crime and secrets were the scoundrels surest road to guaranteeing obedience among the weaker willed..
“Myron,” Avery continued, his voice firm but sympathetic, “you went from a man overnight. Didn’t even let you catch your breath and that Commie sympathizer Sheriff brings the government right to your door! They pick on the weak and all alone. I mean, we all know them tests don’t work, but what do you suppose would happen if them inspectors didn’t find a single sick cow? What’s some young kid and his widowed mom gonna say when they condemn your whole herd, huh? Nothing, that’s what! A holy man without a congregation is just talking to the walls. A Jew is poor like an honest Catholic without someone else’s money, and a Communist from the government takes power by enslaving the working man. Only way for folks like us to keep what we worked and fought and bled for it to stick together.”
Vogel wasn’t entirely convinced. “Don’t know, Avery. Besides, bunch of poor farmers can’t fight the federal government.”
“Know what?” Avery was indignant. “Don’t want anybody in this fight who doesn’t have the stomach for it. No half way here, boys. Think the founding fathers of this great land, fighting for the freedom of all of us, went half way? God no! They risked everything, their lives, their families, their fortunes. They stood together.”
Avery picked up the shovels and held them out, begging and daring each to reach for one. In doing so Avery could count that he held them fully. Myron was first. Ernie Vogel bowed his head and looked away. Avery sneered and shook his head. He tossed the shovel on the grass beside Vogel and went back to work with Myron. Ernie stood and picked up the shovel. He studied it in his hands a moment before joining the others.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Emmetsburg: Forty-one
John lay in bed, still clothed, staring at the ceiling. Anna was sitting beside him, her legs curled under her buttocks. The long hair fell down across one shoulder and over the breast. Leaning on one hand, she gently stroked his stomach. John frowned out of frustration of not knowing where to begin, and feeling the fool for ever considering any aspect of all this. He finally looked over, feeling even more foolish for her sympathetic smile.
“You must think I’m losing my mind,” he said.
“I think maybe we should call someone.”
“Whom?”
“Someone who can better care for Louis,” she replied. “It’s all too much for us, with your hand, and God forbid he hurts himself or someone else.”
John’s brow furled in thought. He took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling again. He was quiet, struggling with a thought, and then struggling with the words.
“If,” he paused again, “if something happened to me, what would you…”
She cut him off quickly, quite upset at even the suggestion.. “John, I won’t hear another word.”
John’s eyes moved wildly, searching the air, fighting thoughts and emotions not easily framed by mere words. He tried to think of Anna without him, and he tried not to think of such things. Both threatened to tear the heart from his chest. His mouth fell open in a silent lament. He took a deep breath and forced tears back, then looked to Anna again.
“I would want you to be happy if…”
“John, where is all this coming from?” She stroked his chest reassuringly. It tortured her to see him this way. “John, I intend to grow very old with you, whether you like it or not. We can’t predict what will happen today or tomorrow or five years from now, but I love you and while we are together on this earth that isn’t going to change.”
He nodded, though hardly satisfied with the answer. John chose not to press it any further. It only made him feel more foolish at believing any of this. As Anna laid her head upon his chest a single tear escaped. It ran from the corner of one eye, cool and slick, and into his hair. John closed his eyes tight, glad she couldn’t see any of this. He stroked her back and shoulders and gave a long deep sigh that drained away his heartache. Anna was already asleep against him. John held her close and kissed her hair, breathing her in as if his very life depended upon it.
“You must think I’m losing my mind,” he said.
“I think maybe we should call someone.”
“Whom?”
“Someone who can better care for Louis,” she replied. “It’s all too much for us, with your hand, and God forbid he hurts himself or someone else.”
John’s brow furled in thought. He took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling again. He was quiet, struggling with a thought, and then struggling with the words.
“If,” he paused again, “if something happened to me, what would you…”
She cut him off quickly, quite upset at even the suggestion.. “John, I won’t hear another word.”
John’s eyes moved wildly, searching the air, fighting thoughts and emotions not easily framed by mere words. He tried to think of Anna without him, and he tried not to think of such things. Both threatened to tear the heart from his chest. His mouth fell open in a silent lament. He took a deep breath and forced tears back, then looked to Anna again.
“I would want you to be happy if…”
“John, where is all this coming from?” She stroked his chest reassuringly. It tortured her to see him this way. “John, I intend to grow very old with you, whether you like it or not. We can’t predict what will happen today or tomorrow or five years from now, but I love you and while we are together on this earth that isn’t going to change.”
He nodded, though hardly satisfied with the answer. John chose not to press it any further. It only made him feel more foolish at believing any of this. As Anna laid her head upon his chest a single tear escaped. It ran from the corner of one eye, cool and slick, and into his hair. John closed his eyes tight, glad she couldn’t see any of this. He stroked her back and shoulders and gave a long deep sigh that drained away his heartache. Anna was already asleep against him. John held her close and kissed her hair, breathing her in as if his very life depended upon it.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Emmetsburg: Forty
“Jesus!” John exclaimed. Anna recoiled, finding, for just a moment, the strangest expression she'd ever seen in John. It was the way he looked at her, as though he hardly recognized her. Believing she had imagined the whole thing Anna reach to him again, but John threw up a hand, as if protecting himself.
“John?” she said. He seemed to snap out of the moment. Instead of coming to her he sat in the grass, washing a hand through his hair.
“I'm sorry,” she shook his head. His thoughts spun wildly. He recalled Louis' words, that Anna would get along without him, that she would find another love and marry again. John knew it was all foolish, but couldn't help himself.
“John, are you...?”
“I'm...its just...” he looked up at her, almost in judgment. Suddenly he felt so foolish and ashamed for it. “You'll help me get Louis back to bed?”
“John, what's going on. I'm getting scared?” she fell to his side, stroking his hair.
He searched her eyes, finding the world and eternity in them. More than that he found truth and love. He reached for her cheek feeling like a child before her decency and beauty. He supreme commodity of that moment, that simple touch rushed through him like warm electricity. The precious nature of that moment, one that would not again be repeated in all eternity filled him with a sudden sense of light and loss all at once.
“I'll explain everything inside,” he said. He could not keep any of this to himself any longer, yet he had no clue to what he might say to Anna.
Anna lifted Louis to a sitting position. He was limp and peaceful, as though he was in a very deep sleep. John knelt beside him and stretched one of Louis’ arms across his shoulders. With a slight groan John hauled the man across his back and stood. They went into the house and up the stairs. The crickets returned in their wake, filling the noght with their eternal song of summer.
“John?” she said. He seemed to snap out of the moment. Instead of coming to her he sat in the grass, washing a hand through his hair.
“I'm sorry,” she shook his head. His thoughts spun wildly. He recalled Louis' words, that Anna would get along without him, that she would find another love and marry again. John knew it was all foolish, but couldn't help himself.
“John, are you...?”
“I'm...its just...” he looked up at her, almost in judgment. Suddenly he felt so foolish and ashamed for it. “You'll help me get Louis back to bed?”
“John, what's going on. I'm getting scared?” she fell to his side, stroking his hair.
He searched her eyes, finding the world and eternity in them. More than that he found truth and love. He reached for her cheek feeling like a child before her decency and beauty. He supreme commodity of that moment, that simple touch rushed through him like warm electricity. The precious nature of that moment, one that would not again be repeated in all eternity filled him with a sudden sense of light and loss all at once.
“I'll explain everything inside,” he said. He could not keep any of this to himself any longer, yet he had no clue to what he might say to Anna.
Anna lifted Louis to a sitting position. He was limp and peaceful, as though he was in a very deep sleep. John knelt beside him and stretched one of Louis’ arms across his shoulders. With a slight groan John hauled the man across his back and stood. They went into the house and up the stairs. The crickets returned in their wake, filling the noght with their eternal song of summer.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Emmetsburg: Thirty-nine
John knelt in the damp cool grass, With his good hand he gripped Louis by the collar. Instantly Louis took hold of John’s arm, using it as leverage to pull himself close. Taken aback John tried to pull free, but again Louis and that impossible strength held him fast.
“Poor babies, John,” he sobbed in that far away voice, “All burned up. All burned up.”
“Who?, what are you talking about.”
“Them three pretty little girls up at Spirit Lake,” said Louis. “Nothing to be done, John. Nothing to be done. All burned up...” his words trailed away.
John shook him hard, feeling himself at the end of his patience. He growled, fighting emotion and not wanting to worry Anna, still standing in the door. “What the hell are you?”
“You'll be next, John. Go to meet your maker. Anna will get on. Be all right. All for the good.”
“What's for the good? I don't understand.”
“World goes on without us John,” said Louis. “Fills in the gaps. Sun rises and the sun sets. A new day comes. The dead are forgotten, but their actions and deeds live on in all the rest.”
John shook Louis again. He felt pushed to the edge. The blood charged madly through his veins, exploding in his temples.
“What if I break your neck?”
“You'll go, John Perkins.”
“Go where?”
“You'll go to save that boy. You'll go for Anna. You'll go.”
“To die?”
“Of course, John!”
“When? How?”
“One week's time, no more. You'll go, John Perkins, shot by your own hand.”
Louis released him and went limp, as if someone had simply flipped a switch. John pushed away, coming to his feet and backing away to regard Louis Stanton from a distance. He was sleeping, though John might have wished far worse for the man at that moment.
This was all so absurd, he thought. Either he was had or Louis was. Maybe both of them were mad. A shiver ran through him for just a moment as he entertained the thought that all this was true. He shook the thought away instantly. John was still languishing in the aftermath of that dark thought when a hand upon his shoulder startled him.
“Poor babies, John,” he sobbed in that far away voice, “All burned up. All burned up.”
“Who?, what are you talking about.”
“Them three pretty little girls up at Spirit Lake,” said Louis. “Nothing to be done, John. Nothing to be done. All burned up...” his words trailed away.
John shook him hard, feeling himself at the end of his patience. He growled, fighting emotion and not wanting to worry Anna, still standing in the door. “What the hell are you?”
“You'll be next, John. Go to meet your maker. Anna will get on. Be all right. All for the good.”
“What's for the good? I don't understand.”
“World goes on without us John,” said Louis. “Fills in the gaps. Sun rises and the sun sets. A new day comes. The dead are forgotten, but their actions and deeds live on in all the rest.”
John shook Louis again. He felt pushed to the edge. The blood charged madly through his veins, exploding in his temples.
“What if I break your neck?”
“You'll go, John Perkins.”
“Go where?”
“You'll go to save that boy. You'll go for Anna. You'll go.”
“To die?”
“Of course, John!”
“When? How?”
“One week's time, no more. You'll go, John Perkins, shot by your own hand.”
Louis released him and went limp, as if someone had simply flipped a switch. John pushed away, coming to his feet and backing away to regard Louis Stanton from a distance. He was sleeping, though John might have wished far worse for the man at that moment.
This was all so absurd, he thought. Either he was had or Louis was. Maybe both of them were mad. A shiver ran through him for just a moment as he entertained the thought that all this was true. He shook the thought away instantly. John was still languishing in the aftermath of that dark thought when a hand upon his shoulder startled him.
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