The Scarlet Thread (57 page)

Alex wasn’t the only guilty player. She stood stripped before a

mirror, seeing herself as she had been: childish, self-centered,

filled with self-pity, casting blame, complaining.

It is better to live in the corner of a roof than in a house shared with a

contentious woman.

She was ashamed and grieved, yet oddly enough, a sense of

peace followed her self-examination. She was reminded of her

mother in the attic, the window open, the fresh air blowing in as

she dusted, swept, and sorted out trash from the treasure.

Oh, Lord Jesus, do that for me. Please. You know me better than I know

myself. Open my doors and windows and let the Holy Spirit move through

me. You are welcome in my house. Come into me, into my foyer and my

living room. Wander at will through my parlor and kitchen. Be with me in

my bedroom and bathroom. Go through every closet and every drawer,

from the basement to the attic of my life. I belong to you, Father. Stay with

me forever. Jesus, please remove everything in me that doesn’t glorify you.

Make me your vessel.

Oh, God, you are my God. I seek you. My soul hungers and thirsts for

you. My body longs for you as dry land beneath a heavy rain. Your love is

better than life.

“Are you falling in love again?” Alex said softly late that night

after they had talked for two hours.

Eyes closed, her head resting against the back of the sofa, she

smiled. “Yes.” But not with Alex—she’d never stopped loving him.

She was falling in love with Jesus.

We found our dear Koxoenis shot dead near the

banks of our stream today.

Lord, who would murder such a gentle man

who did nothing but show kindness and hospital4 3 6

ity to others? Kavanaugh thinks Koxoenis was

badly wounded and tried to reach us for help.

Thinking of him suffering fills me with anguish.

Oh, God, that we had found him sooner.

Kavanaugh said the wound was mortal and we

could not have saved him, but we could have at

least comforted him in his last hours upon this

earth. We could have held him close and prayed

for him.

Kavanaugh carried Koxoenis to our home. We

washed him and wrapped him in a blanket and

buried him beside James.

Lord, I am so grieved. Please do not hold it

against Koxoenis that I failed to explain You to

him. I tried so hard each time he has come to

visit, but sign language leaves so much unsaid. He

did not understand me, and I did not know how

to explain. And now he is lost forever.

Father, please let me speak on his behalf.

Koxoenis was kind and generous, and obedient to

Your will. He heard Your voice that day we were

so hungry. He came to us and gave us meat. He

showed us the food You had planted all around

us. He taught Joshua how to build us a shelter so

that we were warm and dry through the cold winter months. He was our first and dearest friend,

and though he did not know You, Lord, I believe

in my heart he was your child in spirit. I have

never known a man more humble and loving.

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into Your kingdom.

Beth and I gathered flowers today and took them

to the small knoll where James and Koxoenis lie.

But when we reached it, we found Koxoenis’s

grave empty. The cross we had made for him lay

upon the mound of fresh earth and on it was a

Pomo gift basket. It is the most beautiful thing

I have ever seen with designs woven with red,

yellow, and green feathers and small beads.

Around the rim are tiny black topknot quail

feathers.

I have placed the basket upon our mantel and

will remember our beloved friend and his people

each time I look at it.

Kavanaugh brought supplies back from the settlement near the river yesterday. Beth and I walked

to Koxoenis’s village today to bring apple pies to

his wife and children, but when we reached it,

everyone was gone. No fires were burning. No

children were playing. No smoke came from the

sweathouse. No women sat working with stone

mortar and pestle crushing acorns. The village

was deserted and desolate.

Kavanaugh said Indians move where the food

is. He thinks this village site may be their winter

home. Spring and summer must be spent else4 3 8

where. The money beads the people wear are

made of clamshells. So I suppose the people must

spend time each year near the ocean. Perhaps

they are there.

We learned from Joshua that Koxoenis’s people ate fish, acorns, pepperwood nuts, buckeyes,

and a mixture of toasted seeds and grains ground

in a stone mortar and sifted in a basket. They

called it pinole. Now that spring is here, everything is green and growing. There must be a hundred different things to eat that we have not yet

discovered. And come summer, the berries and

wild apples will be ripe. They will taste better

than the dried ones I soaked to make the pies.

I hope we will see Koxoenis’s people again

come fall, but my heart tells me we will not be so

fortunate.

Lord, please be with them and protect them

from harm.

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26

“ R E D R O S E S , M O M ! ” C A R O L Y N C A L L E D F R O M

the front door. “Come see!”

Sierra came down the stairs and gasped as she saw the arrangement being brought in. “Living-room table, ma’am?” the

deliveryman said. He was young, sporting a T-shirt that said

“God spoke and
BANG
it was,” long black hair, and a single hoop

earring.

“Yes, that’d be fine.”

When he set the arrangement down, he gave her a saucy grin.

“Someone’s either smitten or in deeeep trouble.”

She laughed.
Smitten
was such an antique word for such a

modern young man. “Hang on a minute,” she said and gave him

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breath and ferns:
Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you. Alex.

Twenty-four red roses in a crystal vase.

She called him. “Thank you for the roses.”

“What do you say we take the children out tonight? Dinner

and a movie.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

“How about letting them sit in the front row while we sit in a

back corner and neck the way we used to?”

She laughed. “How about we all sit in the middle
together?”

They had a wonderful evening together. As it turned out,

Clanton and Carolyn pleaded to sit closer to the front, and she

and Alex sat in the middle. At first Alex didn’t touch her. They

sat side by side, both staring up at the big screen with the animated Disney characters frolicking, both wound up like a couple

of two-dollar clocks. Halfway through the movie, Alex took her

hand. When she didn’t try to withdraw, he finally relaxed.

“Aren’t you going to invite him in?” Carolyn said when they

reached the condo.

“I want to show him my new game,” Clanton said as though on

cue.

Sierra looked between them and knew what her children were

hoping. How could she explain she wasn’t ready?

“Another time,” Alex said, coming to her rescue. He took a

step back.

“Mom,” Carolyn whined, her heart in her eyes.

“It’s all right, Alex,” she said. “Come on in. I’ll fix us some hot

cider while you take a look at Clanton’s game.”

She was in the kitchen putting cinnamon sticks in the cups of

steaming cider when Alex came back. “Are the children coming

down?” she said, glancing toward the stairwell.

“They’re playing a video game.”

“Carolyn?” She had never been interested before.

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He shrugged. “You look nervous.”

“I am a little,” she said, giving a self-conscious laugh. “Why

don’t we sit in the living room?” She gave him a mug of hot cider,

took one for herself, and led the way to the couch she’d recovered. She sat at the far end, curling her feet up beneath her.

Neither knew what to say to break the tension. She remembered other nights on this couch. The silence stretched along

with her nerves.

“It does get in the way, doesn’t it?” Alex said heavily.

“What?”

“Wanting you this much. Knowing you want me, too.” He

looked at her, hiding nothing.

Sierra’s heart began to drum hard. Alex set his mug of hot

cider on the hatch-cover table and stood up. She looked up at

him, afraid he’d kiss her and start something she couldn’t let him

finish. Or worse, he would leave.

His expression softened. “As much as I’d like to, I’m not going

to rush you.”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Alex.”

“Yo sé.
You’ve got to learn to trust me again.”

She looked down into her cider. “So much has happened to me

in the last year. I’ve changed in ways I don’t think you understand.” She looked at him again. “The Lord is the center of my

life, now. I can’t go back—”

“Dennis and I talked about it.”

She was surprised. “You did?” She knew Dennis wouldn’t

hold back; he’d lay out salvation one, two, three.

“I go to Mass, Sierra. I have every Sunday since I moved

here.” He glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured

it was time I confessed and did penance. Dennis talks about

grace, but there’s justice, too.”

She put her mug down and stood up. “I forgive you, Alex.”

He looked at her, his eyes moist. “I knew that when you said

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doesn’t matter that they were in Reno and not in a church. I

could have been saying them in a parking lot and I still would’ve

known I was speaking before God. The last thing I ever thought

I’d do was commit adultery. And then I did. I never thought I’d

be capable of hurting you. And then I did that, too. Deliberately.

Every chance I got.”

She wanted to put her arms around him, but he moved away

slightly, putting distance between them. He was gripped with

guilt. It was eating at him. She knew that look. She also knew he

wanted to tell her something—something she wasn’t going to

like. The muscles in her stomach tightened.

No more, Lord. Please, no more.

“Father O’Shea asked if I’d had a blood test.”

Sierra could feel the blood draining from her face. She blinked.

“Yeah, you look exactly the way I felt,” he said bleakly. “That

aspect never occurred to me, either. Not until a celibate priest

brought it up. I called Elizabeth and asked some blunt questions.

She wasn’t very happy about them, but she was honest. I knew I

wasn’t her first. But I didn’t know how many. Do you know

what I’m saying, Sierra? Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“She’s been with five other men, one in high school, two during

college, one afterward, and the guy she’s marrying. She said she

didn’t think there was a chance any of them were HIV-positive,

but there’s no way of knowing, is there?” His eyes were haunted.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” His eyes filled. “You came to me a

virgin. You never even kissed another guy before me.”

“Are you telling me you’re—?” she couldn’t finish the question.

“No. I’ve been tested four times over the past few months. All

negative, but who knows? Are we hearing the truth about this

thing?” He came to her and cupped her face. As he stroked her

cheeks, his eyes welled with tears and torment. “How do I ever

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