Alvin Journeyman: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume IV (12 page)

Wouldn’t it be a hoot if Harrison actually took Calvin’s advice?

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Amy Sump didn’t care what her friends or anybody said. What she felt for Alvin Maker was love. Real love. True, deep, abiding love that would withstand the test of time.

If only he would pay any attention to her openly, so others could see it. Instead all he ever did was give her those glances that made her heart flutter so within her. She worried sometimes that maybe it was just his Makerness, his knack or whatever it was. Worried that he was somehow reaching inside her chest and making her heart turn over and her whole body quiver. But no, that wasn’t the sort of thing that Makers did. In fact maybe he didn’t even
know
about her love for him. Maybe his glances were really searching looks, hoping to see in her face some sign of her love. That was why she no longer tried to hide her maidenly blushes when her heart beat so fast and her face felt all hot and tingly. Let him see how his gaze transforms me into a quivering mass of devoted worshipfulness.

How Amy longed to go to the teaching sessions where Alvin worked with a dozen or so grownups at once, telling them how
a Maker had to see the world. How she would love to hear his voice for hours on end. Then she would discover the true knack within her, and both she and her beloved Alvin would rejoice to discover that she was secretly a Maker herself, so that the two of them together would be able to remake the world and fight off the evil nasty Unmaker together. Then they would have a dozen babies, all of them Makers twice over, and the love of Alvin and Amy Maker would be sung for a thousand generations throughout the whole world, or at least America, which was pretty much the same thing as far as Amy cared.

But Amy’s parents wouldn’t let her go. “How could Alvin possibly concentrate on teaching anybody anything with you making cow-eyes at him the whole time?” her mother said, the heartless old hag. Not as cruel as her father, though, telling her, “Get some control over yourself, girl! Or I’m going to have to get you some love diapers to keep you from embarrassing yourself in public. Love diapers, do you understand me?” Oh, she understood him, the nasty man. Him of the cranks and pulleys, pipes and cables. Him of pumps and engines and machinery, who had no understanding of the human heart. “The heart’s just a pump itself, my girl,” he said, which showed him to be a deeply totally impossibly eternally abysmally ignorant machine of a man his own self but said nothing about the truth of the universe. It was her beloved Alvin who understood that all things were alive and had feelings—all things
except
her father’s hideous dead machines, chugging away like walking corpses. A steam-powered lumbermill! Using fire and water to cut wood! What an abomination before the Lord! When she and Alvin were married, she’d get Alvin to stop her father from making any more machines that roared and hissed and chugged and gave off the heat of hell. Alvin would keep her in a sylvan wonderland where the birds were friends and the bugs didn’t bite and they could swim naked together in clear pools of water and he would swim to her in real life instead of just in her dreams and he would reach out and embrace her and their
naked bodies would touch under the water and their flesh would meet and join and . . .

“No such thing,” said her friend Ramona.

Amy felt herself grow hot with anger. Who was Ramona to decide what was real and what wasn’t? Couldn’t Amy tell her dreams to
somebody
without having to keep saying it was just a dream instead of pretending that it was real, that his arms had been around her? Didn’t she remember it as clearly—no, far
more
clearly—than anything that had ever happened to her in real life?

“Did so happen. In the moonlight.”

“When!” said Ramona, her voice dripping with contempt.

“Three nights ago. When Alvin
said
he was going out into the woods to be alone. He was really going to be with me.”

“Well where is there a pool of clear water like that? Nothing like that around here, just rivers and streams, and you
know
Alvin never goes into the Hatrack to swim or nothing.”

“Don’t you know
anything!
” said Amy, trying to match her best friend’s disdain. “Haven’t you heard of the greensong? How Alvin learned from them old Reds how to run through the forest like the wind, silent and not even so much as bending a branch? He can run a hundred miles in an hour, faster than any railroad train. It wasn’t any kind of pool around
here,
it was so far away that it would take anybody from Vigor Church three days to get there on a good horse!”

“Now I know you’re just lying,” said Ramona.

“He can do that
any day
,” insisted Amy hotly.

“
He
can, but
you
can’t. You screech when you brush up into a spiderweb, you dunce.”

“I’m not a dunce I’m the best student in the school
you’re
the dunce,” said Amy all in a breath—it was an epigram she had often used before. “I held Alvin’s
hand
is what, and he carried me along, and then when I got tired he picked me up in those blacksmith’s arms of his and carried me.”

“And then I’m
sure
he really took off all his clothes and you
took off all of yours, like you was a couple of weasels or something.”

“Muskrats. Otters. Creatures of water. It wasn’t nakedness, it was naturalness, the freeness of two kindred souls who have no secrets from each other.”

“Well, what a bunch of beautifulness,” said Ramona. “Only I think if it really happened it would be
disgustingness
and
revoltingness,
him coming up and hugging you in your complete and utter
starkersness
.”

Amy knew that Ramona was making fun of her but she wasn’t sure why making up words like
disgustingness
made the idiotic girl laugh and almost fall off the tree branch where they were sitting.

“You have no appreciation of beauty.”

“You have no appreciation of
truth
” said Ramona. “Or should I say, of ‘truthfulness.’ ”

“You calling me a liar?” said Amy, giving her a little push.

“Hey!” cried Ramona. “No fair! I’m farther out on the branch so there’s nothing for me to grab onto.”

Amy pushed her again, harder, and Ramona wobbled, her eyes growing wide as she clutched at the branch.

“Stop it you little liar!” cried Ramona. “I’ll tell what lies you’ve been saying.”

“They
aren’t
lies,” said Amy. “I remember it as clearly as . . . as clearly as the sunlight over the fields of green corn.”

“As clearly as the grunting of the hogs in my father’s sty,” said Ramona, in a voice that matched Amy’s for dreaminess.

“Of course true love would be beyond your ability to imagine.”

“Yes, my imaginingness is the epitaph of feebleness.”

“Epitome, not epitaph,” Amy said.

“Oh, if only I could have your sublimeness of correctness, your wiseness.”

“Stop raising all the time.”

“You
stop.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Do so.”

“Do not.”

“Eat worms,” said Ramona.

“On brain salad,” said Amy. And now that they were back to familiar playful argument, they both broke into laughter and talked about other things for a while.

And if things had stayed that way, maybe nothing would have happened. But on the way back home in the gathering dusk, Ramona asked one last time, “Amy, telling truth, cross your heart, friend to friend, swear to heaven, remember forever, tell me that you didn’t really actually with your own flesh and blood go swimming naked with Alvin Smith—”

“Alvin
Maker
.”

“Tell me it was a dream.”

Almost Amy laughed and said, Of course it was a dream, you silly girl.

But in Ramona’s eyes she saw something: wide-eyed wonder at the idea that such things were possible, and that someone Ramona actually knew might have done something so wicked and wonderful. Amy didn’t want to see that look of awe change to a look of knowing triumph. And so she said what she knew she shouldn’t say. “I wish it was a dream, I honestly do, Ramona. Because when I think back on it I long for him all the more and I wonder when he’ll dare to speak to my father and tell him that he wants me for his wife. A man who’s done a thing like that with a girl—he’s got to marry her, doesn’t he?”

There. She had said it. The most secret wonderful dream of her heart. Said it right out.

“You’ve got to tell your papa,” said Ramona. “He’ll see to it Alvin marries you.”

“I don’t want him to be forced,” said Amy. “That’s silly. A man like Alvin can only be enticed into marriage, not pushed into it.”

“Everybody thinks you’re all goo-goo over Alvin and he doesn’t even see you,” said Ramona. “But if he’s going off
with you a swimming starkers in some faraway pond that only he can get to, well, I don’t think that’s right. I honestly don’t.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think,” said Amy. “It
is
right and if you tell I’ll cut off all your hair and tat it into a doily and
burn
it.”

Ramona burst out laughing. “Tat it into a
doily?
What kind of power does
that
have?”

“A six-sided doily,” said Amy portentously.

“Oh, I’m trembling. Made out of my own hair, too. Silly, you can’t do things like that, that’s what Black witches do, make things out of hair and burn them or whatever.”

As if that was an argument. Alvin did Red magic; why couldn’t Amy learn to do Black magic, when her Makering knack was finally unlocked? But there was no use arguing about that sort of thing with Ramona. Ramona thought she knew better than anybody. It was a marvel that Amy even bothered to keep her as a best friend.

“I’m going to tell,” said Ramona. “Unless you tell me right now that it’s all a lie.”

“If you tell I’ll kill you,” said Amy.

“Tell me it’s a lie, then.”

Tears sprang unbidden to Amy’s eyes. It was
not
a lie. It was a dream. A true dream, of true love, a dream that came from the paths of secretness within her own and Alvin’s hearts. He dreamed the same dream at the same time, she knew it, and he felt her flesh against his as surely as she felt his against hers. That made it true, didn’t it? If a man and a woman both remembered the realness of each other’s bodies pressing against each other, then how was that anything but a true experience? “I love Alvin too much to lie about such a thing. Cut my tongue out if any part of it is false!”

Ramona gasped. “I never believed you till now.”

“But you tell
no
one,” said Amy. Her heart swelled with satisfaction over her victory. Ramona finally believed her. “Swear.”

“I swear,” said Ramona.

“Show me your fingers!” cried Amy.

Ramona brought her hands out from behind her. The fingers weren’t crossed, but that didn’t prove they weren’t crossed a few moments ago.

“Swear again now,” said Amy. “When I can see your hands.”

“I
swear
,” said Ramona, rolling her eyes.

“It’s our beautiful secret,” said Amy, turning and walking away.

“Ours and Alvin’s,” said Ramona, uncrossing her ankles and following her.

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