Face the Winter Naked (16 page)

"Well,
I've obviously done something to upset you. But I'm not a mind reader. Have you
found someone else? I'll understand if you have." She waited for a reply,
and when none came, she continued. "Why won't you talk to me? I need all
the help I can get with my husband away, Elizabeth. I appreciate you've trusted
me with your baby all this time. He's like my own—"

Elizabeth
sighed and shook her head. "You were good for Ralphie, and I hate to put
him strictly on cows' milk because it makes his stools hard."

"Then
why?"

Elizabeth
met LaDaisy's eyes briefly, then glanced away.

"It's
the men."

"Th—"
LaDaisy caught her breath.
"Men?"

"Actually,
just one man." The words spilled out in a torrent of embarrassment.
"The man who comes to—to
visit
you during the day. Don't think
people haven't noticed. They've—I've seen his car parked down the road. Oh yes,
he tries to hide it. But I know what's going on, you without a husband and
all."

LaDaisy
sat down in the rocker, staring past the woman, seeing the yard and trees
through the screen door, dreading what she knew was coming.

"Go
on."

"Oh,
this is embarrassing for me, Mrs. Tomelin. Your husband is gone. Everyone in
town knows he's gone. But you're still married, and this man comes to your
house—"

"What
are you talking about?" But LaDaisy knew the answer.

"I
can't risk coming here and walking in on you and ...
him
."

LaDaisy's
breasts tightened and shut down the milk supply. God help her if she dried up
and had no more milk for Mary.

"Surely
you don't think?"

"I
don't know what else to think."

LaDaisy
covered her face with her hands.

"The
man is ... he's my sister's husband, my landlord, for God's sake."

"Your
brother-in-law? That's even worse."

"No,
no!" LaDaisy jumped up and faced Elizabeth, angry and afraid at the same
time. "You don't know what you're saying. I'm—he comes to collect the
rent. He—"

"You
have money for rent?" Elizabeth was aghast. "Or do you pay it another
way? I know Mr. Tomelin isn't here to provide the rent. I
know
this
because you already told me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have needed to wet-nurse
my son in exchange for food."

"Let
me explain."

Elizabeth
turned to leave. "You can't explain anything I'll believe."

Unable
to take any more, LaDaisy jumped up and got in her face. "Who made you so
goddamed high and mighty? How
dare
you come in my house and accuse me of
being a whore."

Elizabeth
quickly left the house, slamming the door behind her. Only then did LaDaisy
allow the tears to fall.

No
more milk for my kids.

She
collapsed on the davenport. After a few minutes, she looked at the clock
through tear-swollen eyes and realized it was time to feed the kids. Feed them—what?

Chapter 11

Traversing
hills and streams en route to Springfield was torture for Daniel. His body
ached. The soles of his feet burned and new calluses crusted old ones. In late
afternoon, the sky turned dark, and nasty green clouds appeared in the
southwest. The smell of ozone tainted the heavy, moist air and left him
struggling for breath. He stopped walking, mopped sweat from his brow and stood
very still, surveying his surroundings. It was too quiet. Not a leaf stirred;
no bird sang.

Something
was up.

He
recalled that more than a hundred years ago, the earth had shuddered violently
and split open at New Madrid, some distance behind him in the Bootheel region.
The temblor had rocked, not only Missouri, but states as far away as Boston,
and when it was over, the Mississippi River flowed backward.

The
earth was restless and wobbly—and Daniel Tomelin was right out in the open.

A
brilliant flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed a moment later by a loud
thunderclap that almost peeled his skin off and set his ears ringing. A sharp
wind rose and blew dust up his nose and in his throat. He coughed, and looked
up as a drop of rain splashed his glasses. He pulled his rain slicker from the
gunnysack and pulled it on just as the rain began in earnest, then stashed the
banjo in the bag.

There's
no bed for a man to hide under.

Rain
fell soft and cool on his face, relief from the scorching heat his body had
endured since spring. When the sky opened and heavy rain pelted the ground, the
thirsty soil soaked it up. The storm's front was still some distance away, but
he squinted to see through the downpour.

In
the distance appeared a stone house with a thatched roof. And not far from the
house stood another building. A church?
If I can reach it, I'll be safe.

When
a male voice filled his head with song in a strange language, Daniel recalled Grandma
Susannah's stories about a distant relative from Wales.

His
skin tingled, and the foreign thoughts startled him. Through misty lenses
appeared an old mill house.
A woolen mill
? How did he know that? White
sheep dotted the hillside—he could almost smell the wet wool. What were they
doing out in the rain? Where were sheep dogs bringing them to fold?

What
had these to do with tramping through southern Missouri in a thunderstorm? He
was thousands of miles from his grandmother's homeland.

He
turned his rain-soaked face away as the wind swirled leaves and twigs in his
path. The rain had slowed, but the storm rumbled and crashed overhead as
lightning spiked around him. He realized his life was in danger and dove into a
ditch by the side of the road.

Crouching
with the gunnysack over his head, his heart lurched as a terrifying rumble
filled the air. His ears popped, bringing pain. A blast of cold air seemed to
split his soul in half as the wind tried to suck his body from the shelter ...

...
Fog and mist lay over the open meadow and the sky was just beginning to darken.
The air hung still and damp. Not even a blade of grass moved. Poppies stood
like bright orange sentries near the tents and ditches, oblivious to the war
ravaging their homeland.

This
night was quiet along the front.

Too
quiet.

Fritzie
was up to something.

Shine
crouched in a trench surrounded by sandbags, and waited. His skin prickled as
he shifted his eyes back and forth like small searchlights. There were no signs
of enemy soldiers—they'd expected to see them, but much farther ahead. But he
knew they were there and he sensed stealthy movement behind the stand of trees
that edged the meadow. Soon his battery would be under cover of darkness. But
safe? Not bloody likely. He glanced toward a nearby trench, feeling alone, yet
comforted by the nearness of his friends. Most of them were just kids who had
no business fighting a war, young men who grew up fast when faced with unseen
enemies.

"Man,
I wish I had a smoke."

Shine
jumped at the sound of Milt's voice and glanced over his shoulder as the young
soldier rested his arms on his rifle stock.

"Don't
sneak up on me, Milt!"

"Okay,
okay."

"Good
thing this gun was pointed the other way—I might've shot and asked questions
after."

"Okay,
Shine, take it easy."

Shine
nodded, reached out and lay a hand on Milt's arm. Everyone was jumpy. This was
no time for arguments; they were all in it together.

Milt
opened his mouth to speak, but Shine shook his head. "Shhh—listen."
His heart drummed in his chest. His nerves were as tight as a banjo string as
he tightened his grip on the rifle, fingers opening, squeezing. "You hear
something?"

A
shadowy form appeared at the edge of the field near the front trench. A moment
later, three shells whizzed through the air, the first hitting a sandbag, the
others almost blowing the ground out from under them.

"Jesus."
Shine grabbed his worthless helmet and ducked.
"They've seen us!"

"Cover
me," Milt said. "I'm going after the son-of-a-bitch!"

He
climbed out of the hole, bayonet fixed, and waved toward the trenches where the
other guys waited. Someone joined him. In the dim light it was hard to tell
who. Leonard. In a matter of seconds Leonard was out of the trench and running
at a crouch through the shadows to join Milt.

A
burst of machine gun fire kicked up the dirt around them as they ran, ducking
shells. More soldiers appeared in the clearing. It was almost too dark to see
now. Milt and Leonard opened fire as they ran. Streaks of light burst from
their guns. Loud shouts came from the direction of the targets. Then a chilling
scream. From the front trenches came a barrage of rifle fire.

Shine
broke out in a cold sweat as he took careful aim in the near darkness and squeezed
the trigger. A man screamed; a soldier went down.
Kill or be killed, soldier
.

Someone
jumped in the trench with him.
Frank
. He smelled like cigarettes as he
took a position next to Shine.

Sporadic
gunfire continued for a few more minutes, then stopped abruptly.

"They
got Woody," Frank said, gasping for breath.

"Dead?"

"Yeah."
Frank's voice broke. "It was too fast, Shine, too fast! He—he went down
without a sound."

"Maybe
he's not dead, maybe—"

"We
both know better. He ain't moving, Shine. Goddamit, he's dead!"

"The
bastards!"

Shine
listened to the stillness. Dense fog moved in and hovered above the field. It
crept close to the ground, leaving a foot of space at the bottom through which
the men watched.

"Someone
should be with Woody," he said.

"Aw
no, the poor bastard's beyond help."

Gunfire
started up again. Through the opening under the mist they saw a cloud of dirt
fly through the air where they'd last seen Milt and Leonard. Piercing screams
rent the night, and Shine knew without a doubt they didn't come from Fritzie.

With
Frank beside him peering over the edge of the trench, he tried to take aim. The
growing darkness made it hard to see. All was quiet from their side, the bursts
of gunfire having died down. They used the time to reload.

But
the lull was deceptive as another round came at them. The two men returned
rapid fire and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Shine jerked as something
banged his head and almost tore his helmet off. Forgetting himself for the
moment, he jumped up. Frank grabbed his legs to pull him back down.

"Get
your ass down!"

But
Shine could not hear nor see. He was intent on getting out of the hole alive.
Something snapped inside his head and he swore at Frank.

"Fuck
that, they're killing us!"

"Stay
down!"

His
feet flew out from under him. His shoulder screamed in pain as he rose in the
air, then slammed onto the ground and screamed. The blast loosened dirt from
the edges of the trench and buried him.

He
blacked out a minute from intense pain in his right shoulder, then came alert
and frantically clawed the soil. Reaching air again, he expanded his lungs and
dug out his rifle.

His
hands touched something hard. Not a rifle. Something round. He ran a hand over
it, onto the face of his friend.

"Frankie!"

The
concussion from a shell bursting overhead knocked him down on top of Frank. He
waited, his heart pounding. As he listened, the gunfire stopped abruptly.

He
got to his knees and touched Frank's arm. His hand came away wet. Frank gasped
for air, and a gurgling sound came from his mouth when he tried to speak.

He
pulled Frank from under the debris and cradled his head in his arms.

"Mama
... Shine ... tell Mama I—"

Frank's
chest no longer rose; his mouth stopped bubbling. When daylight came up through
the poppies and burned the mist away, Shine found Frank staring up at him,
eyelids partly closed and mouth open. But even in the midst of this hellish
war, the dead soldier's face looked strangely at peace.

Shine
wept unashamedly. And when he'd cried himself out, he laid the still body on
the soil and brushed his hand across Frank's eyes, pushed up gently on his chin
to close his mouth. When he pulled his hand away, he looked down upon the bloody
stump of his ring finger …

Susannah's
voice carried over the wind:

He
was a well-known bard; he was straight and honest.

Daniel
forgot the storms of weather and war swirling around and inside of him and
listened to his grandmother's words.

Over
the ocean he came. Despite the dangers, he traveled with a strong heart to a
new country without fear in his breast.

He
raised his head and listened—the sound of the storm was distant now and gentle
rain fell upon the parched earth.

The
earth is restless.

He
wiped his glasses on his wet shirttail, then checked his sack to be sure his
supplies and the banjo were intact. He arose slowly, knees creaking. His body
ached from the cramped position and he stood a moment finding his balance. His
cap lay on the wet ground nearby, and his lower back complained when he reached
down to get it. The old cap was soaked; he shook off the water and put it on
anyway. His shoes squished when he walked, and his latest Hoover insoles
disintegrated.

He
didn't know if the long finger of a cyclone had touched the earth. All around
him lay broken twigs, leaves, and branches. He hadn't even heard them crash, so
intent he'd been on listening to his grandma's strange lessons about a relative
he never knew.

She
had calmed his nerves and saved his sanity. Few people knew how afraid he was
of storms. Susannah had known. So did LaDaisy. But he'd had to bear the fear
silently when the kids were around.

Wherever
she was now, did Grandma know loud claps of thunder and bursts of lightning
brought back his horrible war nightmares?

As
he walked, Daniel searched for food in the thickets by the side of the road.
His sharp vision for edible plants rewarded him with a thorny bramble of wild
blackberries, which, despite the dry year, had grown plump and sweet. He picked
his pockets full, turning his hands dark with juice.

There
was no sign rain had fallen the farther west he traveled. Signs of wind damage,
for sure. But the ground beneath his feet lay hard, cracked, and dusty. Heavy
as the torrent had been, the soil had soaked it up in a few minutes.

Sunlight
slanted through the trees along the road and dried his clothes. His shadow
lengthened as he walked a southerly course to keep the sun out of his eyes. The
farther he walked, the taller it grew. At times he thought the shadow on his
left was someone walking beside him. If only it were true; his loneliness was
almost unbearable.

By
late evening, he came to a farm and bedded down in a tractor shed with rusty
plows and assorted other implements. He himself was not yet rusty, though his
body creaked and groaned with each movement. Exhausted, he fell asleep
immediately, and woke the next morning when the shed door swung open and
blinded him with sunlight. A large man stood in the doorway, a faceless shadow
with the sun behind him.

"Howdy,"
said the man. "I didn't expect to see anybody here."

Daniel
sat up, shook his head and blinked. He pulled off his cap and nodded,
embarrassed to be caught.

"Howdy
yourself. Sometimes any building's a good place to lay your head when you can't
keep your eyes open no more."

"Been
walking long?"

"Long
enough." Daniel thought for a minute. "By the way, where am I?"