Deep in the Heart of Me (13 page)

"Why do you move? Are you moving?"

She looks at me, and I see those fresh tears roll and I want to punch my own face. "Tell me Sobe." My hand is on her arm, but I'm older now, I'm not fumbling.

She cries for a minute, and I remember my handkerchief thanks to Maman, and I dig that out, and it's not foul, so I give it to her, and she says, a small thank you that breaks my heart, and she wipes at her darling face.

Then her eyes on me, so tragic and wet, and I try not to go to my knees and say, "Anything, Sobe Bell. Anything at all…."

"I don't leave friends behind me, Tonio. I don't have friends."

It's no thought at all when I smooth her hair away from her face and over her shoulder. I'm reading her features like Ezra read the hidden scriptures he discovered when they rebuilt the temple. I'm reading her with that care and concern.

"I'm your friend, Sobe. Just like you said."

"I feel safe with you Tonio. I haven't felt so safe…except with Dad."

"You are safe with me. I would do anything…." There, I have said it. "But why have you moved—your father's job?"

I've been in the same place all my life, and my family before, and before, right here. Three generations on Clannan land. I can't imagine moving. For us, it would be like ripping away the umbilical cord to the Earth. To who we are.

"Because of what he does, Tonio. But you can't tell. You can't tell your family or anyone. I'm…I'm breaking the code. Right now."

"What code? You think I would tell something…I would never tell.”

"Tonio-io-io," we hear on the wind.

I take Sobe's hand, and we run once again, across the paddock and into the next field, and the next, into the trees and the woods, all the way to the creek.

When we get there, it's a long time before we speak. I take off my shoes and roll my pants and wade in and the water is cold as the ice in the truck the man brings around. She sits on the bank, holding her dress around her legs and looking at me.

I go back and drop beside her.

"Won't they think we're terrible for running?" she says.

"They'll get over it," I say, picking up a pebble and throwing it into the water.

"Your mother…she'll worry maybe?"

I laugh. "No." But if she thinks I'm rude for taking Sobe, I will hear about it.

"You have things to tell me, Sobe."

"I'm not allowed," she says. "Can we drink that water?"

"There's a well up that hill." I put on my socks and my shoes and unroll my trousers.

"A hill? Finally," she says.

So we go there, and I take her to the well, and I move the rocks off of the wooden cover and lower the can on the piece of rope and bring her up the water. She drinks. Then I do.

"It's good," she says.

It is good. Sweet and cool. This is where one of the original homesteads were before the fire. The well is all that survived.

"Are you moving then?" I say, but she doesn't know how much feeling there is in me, fear almost and I keep control.

"I never know. It's quick. It's always quick. One minute I take a breath and the next I'm packing my valise again, leaving everything behind."

We are seated next to the well. She sits with her legs crossed but I'm facing her. "Is someone after him?"

She stares at me. "He says that. But…."

"But what? Don' stop now."

"I think it's me, Tonio. I know it's me."

She looks at me, and the crying starts again, but this is the one that makes her fall toward me, and I catch her and straighten my legs as I pull her into the V of me. I hold her then, and she is like a rag doll, crying in her hair. It settles on me, the weight of her fear and my powerlessness. I want to go to Sheriff and get every blasted detail, but I can't betray her. I want to go to Dad and get his help. I want to get my shotgun and round up the boyos.

"Sobe," I say, taking the handkerchief from her hand and starting to wipe over her face. "Sobe. Sobe."

Sobe Bell has come from other places. I don't know how many or how often, but it will be my mission to discover these answers.

I have some things to figure out. One, how to steal a mule. That shouldn't be so perplexing. Trick is not to be seen. And to take it far enough away it won't come back on us.

I am no thief as a rule. But I am riding that high, high horse. Ever since I went back to school and met Sobe, ever since I found out about the baby. Thing is Otto Smith, and his sons are a burr under the saddle of this county, and I say tough on him. He comes on my land, he'll have me. My dad never let us live under threat, and we're not starting now. That's what I want Sobe to know.

Two is the greater quest. How to keep Sobe safe, so safe she doesn't ever have to leave me. I can't protect her if she's not where I can see. So I have to win her father.

Three. I might be in love. I think I probably am, but it's too difficult to think about. No one will believe it. They will say I'm too young to feel this, to know this. And maybe they are right about a thousand other boyos. But not me.

It doesn't matter what anyone thinks. Just Sobe.

One thing for sure. I have to know if there is threat to Sobe. I can't just ask all the questions I want because it upsets her.

If her father knew I was told as much as she has told me, they would move at once, she says.

Who are they? Who is she running from?

When Sobe and me return home that first evening, the grasshoppers get out of our way. The family is at the tail end of croquet, and Elsie is arguing with Pat. The others have left, but Pat is the one most aware of Sobe. He sees us coming right before he strikes Elsie's ball. She screams and charges after him with her mallet and my sisters come running off the porch where they sit around Maman and Dad, they come with mallets, all of them and he takes off laughing.

"Oh my," Sobe says.

Above it all, my father laughs. It makes me smile to hear it, it does.

Sobe has been quiet on this walk home. It is good to hear her come around. I haven't known how to pull her back, but I've stayed with her like I have with an animal needing to walk off sickness. For all our crazy games in the yard, we are patient here. We have learned to coax life, out of everything God has given us. That's what it means to farm, Dad says. Patience. He says it comes from God. He's put it in each of us. But we have to let him coax it. And that means knowing how to be still.

So I am walking Sobe slowly, and she is coming away from her worries, coming back to us.

"There they are," Colleen says, and they leave off chasing Pat then, all but Elsie. My sister is strong. She's had to be. She can take care of Pat and his brothers. She uses the mallet to try and whack his foot, and he's dancing before her even as he laughs and screams like a girl. I have to smile too. It's the best when he gets Elsie mad.

It is time to milk. Ebbie and Joseph are bringing them in. I feel it after all this time, milking. I feel it to the minute, we all do. That's why Mike and Uncle John are gone, and Shaun is in the barn. Pee-Wee is looking over the banister on the porch steps. "Tonio-io-io," he calls mimicking the girls. They've ruined him.

Elsie leaves off chasing Pat and comes to Sobe, and the girls surround her like a swarm. They are scolding me for keeping her, but she doesn't seem to mind. She looks at me, looks over her shoulder as they take her away. I feel our parting. But it's all right. I'm anxious to do chores and wait for her father.

The girls have brought Sobe in to see us milk. She's been given a tour of the main section of the barn. Ebbie is driving the cows out, and Joseph is bringing them in.

I look up at her, move a teat and squirt at her and a few drops land on the hem of her dress.

Elsie rebukes me but Sobe is all smiles, and it's good to hear her giggle. I might of made her sad, but they have made her happy again.

"Can I try?" she says, and I tell Elsie to get her a stool. I move enough to set it there, and she gets on it, tucking her dress.

We are close now, and I'm holding the teats and showing her. This cow is not the most gentle, but gentle enough with me so near.

My sisters are helping me with instructions and I say, "One of us at a time." I mean me and they seem to know it.

Shaun starts to sing, and they all get going then, and I have a few seconds with Sobe again, and I tell her to pinch off and squeeze, and she tries and most don't get it first time, but once they do they see how simple. And when it squirts she's not sure how she did it, but she's very happy.

She's determined to learn and leans in closer.

"Sobe," I say, and she looks at me, and I kiss her then, her mouth is open, and I just get the corner, but I pull back, and she is letting her eyes open, and she's staring.

"Tonio," she whispers.

And they are back then, the gaggle, singing and everything, Colleen takes Sobe's hand, which is now in her lap like a new piglet or something, too weak to move. And they lead her off the stool, and I watch her stumble away, and I am smiling until I see Ebbie with my next cow, and I've barely started on this one.

I set a record then I finish so quickly. I've been saying it over and over. I kissed her.

I remember how Sheriff asked me if I knew how to use my rifle.

I can shoot an eye out of a gopher from the hip, on the run, while I eat an apple.

Would that be enough to make him happy? It makes me happy.

Everything does now. Everything.

An hour later I am pulling the milk cart, taking the cans to our stand on the main road. I look over the fields. I've grown by ten years today. Dad said he did that in the war—and that has always made me scratch my head, but I've done that now.

One day. Ten years.

Our bins are full and most of our crops—wheat, corn, oats, milo-went to the mill.

At the mill, they weigh the full wagon and we drive it up the ramp to the second story and unload our crops into the bin.

From that bin, they will fill the railroad cars and take our bounty to market.

I love the sounds there, the creak of the ramp as we go up, the horses' hooves clomping on the wood and the spillage of the grain into the bin—that sound is the best of all.

They weigh the empty wagon again. Each crop pays so much a pound. Each load is tallied and once harvest is in they do some final figuring and we get paid.

It's a time of satisfaction. We feel the reward of our work. We get new boots, new overalls if the crops make good, and Dad plans what to repair, what to replace before next year's planting.

Well, I'm thinking all this, what's good about farming. I'm thinking of Sobe liking the city, and I'm asking myself why I love it here. I'm asking that, and I've got some answers although they aren't much. I like it because it's what I know. And now I know this: I have kissed Sobe, and her lips are soft. And she's sweet. And inside she's brave. And afraid. And someone is after her father. And more likely—her. See? Ten years.

I set the full cans on the stand at the end of our lane and lo and behold here comes that Ford Sheriff drives.

Same time the milk truck is coming from the other way, early again.

I don't have it figured yet. It's best he comes to me. I have to go to him he's got the upper hand, but if he's the one asking, then I got some advantage.

So I wave to the sheriff, and he stops and watches me help Winston and his son Duane load the milk cans, and he gets out and says, "Evening." He wonders if they saw anything, heard anything on their route. He's looking into the robbery at Shaun's.

They have seen nothing. Sheriff doesn't know--it will be handled without the law.

He says he'll ride me to the farm. He says, "Get in."

I tuck the cart behind the stand, and I get in the Ford.

"I want to talk to you for a minute," he says.

I think God is surely on my side here. Finally.

"Well, that business at the school is taken care of. You boys did a good job up there. You go in ready tomorrow to behave. Sobe told me all about it and…," he looks off, and I think he must be looking through every which word wanting to get it right, and he's looking for it, the way to go, and he can't find it yet.

I rub my hands along the legs of my pants.

He peers at me. All my life Dad's been telling me to try and look bright, but I'm not trying now. I go on and rub my nose.

We pull to the house, and the girls are inside setting supper, and Sobe is probably with them.

"Mom will want you to stay to supper," I say.

"Supper?" he says like maybe he is hungry.

"Yes, Sir. It's just what's left over from dinner. Chicken with biscuits over, green beans and ham, noodles and gravy, applesauce or pie. Pumpkin too." I scratch on my ear like I have a flea.

"You're persuasive," Sheriff laughs a little.

We get out. I have not seen Sobe since that kiss. That kiss. I try not to think it now. Not around Sheriff.

So we go in, and the girls are here and Maman fusses and flurries around the sheriff. If he does not trust, he will trust her.

She makes him sit in her chair and gets him coffee. She is not mad he put her sons in the jail, but she will try to win him so it never happens again. She believes in love.

I believe in love. I'm just not sure how much it can accomplish without help.

Sobe comes to her father and hugs him. He pats her back. He is looking at her. Maybe he is looking for 'lonely,' but he will not find it here.

"Wash Antonio," Maman reminds me like I'm Pee-Wee. And that one is hanging on my leg, and I take him to the lean-to with me. I set him next to the sink and rebutton the strap that hangs down his back to the bib on his overalls. He is looking at me so sincerely. I ruffle his red hair. Dad says that's the Irish getting out.

He pumps my water. Pumping the water is his job, and he takes it serious.

The spray hits the pan and I lather soap and wash my face and look in the mirror over the sink and my hair goes every which way like always. I take the brush there and brush it off my face. It doesn't want to stay so I use some water.

"I sleep with Tonio," Pee-Wee informs me. That's happening too often.

"Elsie," I say. I've no wish to wake up peed on.

"No," he says. "Tonio." He's angry, and he works the pump and water splashes into the pan and wets my shirt.

"Pee-Wee," I say pulling him off the sink and making him stand.

"I sleep with Tonio," he says.

"Your mother says to stop preening. She needs kindling," Sobe says from the doorway. Her arms are out for Pee-Wee, and she scoops him up and sets him on her hip. He's already holding onto her braid.

I smile at her, and she at me.

I am not preening. But I can see in the mirror, and it's not so bad, what she sees. She is looking like I'm okay.

She is okay. I can see my sisters worked over her hair. They do that for one another and their friends. Constantly. But she is beautiful and can't be anything less.

Maman is laughing over something the sheriff has said, and Dad and the rest come in, and I go to the sink and dump the pan.

Pee-Wee gets down from Sobe's arms and gets on his stool and climbs on the flat part next to the pump. He's ready to get their water.

"I'll show you the woodpile," I say.

"Oh…I've seen it," she says looking quickly back at her father who is standing to shake hands with my father.

"Come see it again," I say, and I don't wait, I go out then.

I grab the basket off the steps and back I go to the woodshed. She closes the door behind me. I am smiling, but she can't see. We get back there and go around, and I am filling the basket not looking at her too much. Not talking.

"You should ask him to let you stay," I say.

"Stay?"

"Here," I say, taking a log to make small wood while I'm at it.

I take the ax off the wall and go to the block with the log. I stand it on end and knock off some shives.

She is watching. "You mean…what do you mean?"

"Stay with us. He can come to see you. You don't have to be alone."

"Tonio…I…."

"You don't want to stay?"

"And ask your parents to take on…."

"We've room," I say.

"But they can't just…adopt me. I have a father."

"We won't work you too hard," I say. She doesn't know it's okay to smile. I'm joking about the work. I think.

We gather the small wood off the ground. We take this to the outside wood box and fill it. This is my sisters' job, but they've been distracted, and I don't mind doing it for a chance to have a few words with Sobe.

At the side of the house, I'm tempted to try and kiss her again. We fill the box, and I try to go in for another, and she pulls back. "Tonio. Do you just want me here to steal kisses?" she says.

I feel like a fool with my lips puckered, meeting air. I must look like a chicken. But I straighten and stare at her refusing to be ashamed. "You don't like it?"

Now she grows red. "Tonio," she says softly, but it's rebuke. Like she's talking to Pee-Wee.

"Just forget it," I say.

I am walking off while I swing the basket. There might be plenty of girls wouldn't find my kisses so terrible. Corrine for one.

"Tonio," she says catching me. "It's not fair that you're angry. I've never…I just…I don't know what I should do. I can't ask my father. And I really can't ask your mother! Or Elsie, or any of them."

"Ask me," I say.

"You?"

"That's right. Ask me," I say.

"Well, that's…I mean…should I be letting you…kiss me? I mean…."

"Do you like it?" I say.

We both know we can't do all we like. She is studying me, and I know that's what she's thinking.

"I don't know. It…it wasn't exactly…you got the corner." She points to the corner of her mouth.

She doesn't know if she liked it? That's not what I'd hoped to hear. And I'm well aware I only got the corner. She hadn't turned her head enough, and there was a cow for god sakes.

"Just forget it," I say again.

"No!" she says so loudly I imagine if her father heard it I'd soon be shot. She swallows and I think she hasn't meant to cut me down. She's just nervous.

"Let's try once more," she says. "Then I'll know. If…it's…you know."

I'm somewhat offended still that she doesn't know already. It may have been just part of a kiss, but the intention wasn't faulty, and she should know that.

Her father is right there in the kitchen. Maman pulls the wood box inside the house, and it moves from being pitched toward us to slamming shut so Mom can fill the stove. We both have jumped I guess we're so guilty but unable to see through the wall they cannot guess we are standing there.

I am not letting any of this stop me. I drop the basket, and I step to Sobe and put my hands on her arms, and I draw her closer, and she lifts her face to me. And I can feel her heart hammering through my hands and no, that's my heart, I think, and I am close to her, so close I can see her tear ducts in that light from sunset and the tiny spaces between her eyelashes and the dark center in her brown eyes and the unbroken rays around her pupils and the tawny golden brown there, and questions and willingness, willingness, and I've been an ass, a proud crabby ass, and her skin so sweet and maybe a little damp, and her perfect nose, with nostrils flaring just a bit, just once, and her lips then, parted and red and I know how soft. I have lowered until my forehead rests on hers, and I close my eyes and we just breathe, her and me, and I don't know time, I just…I am overcome.

"Sobe," I whisper. "Stay with us. With…me."

I hear her swallow first. Her hand touches my cheek, her hand softer than any I've known and I groan to be touched by her.