In Open Spaces (35 page)

“Nothing, hell,” David said. “He invited Blake here to play for the Cardinals’ farm club. You never went?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “It’s not really worth talking about. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“The Cardinals?” Jack asked. “They offered you a contract?”

I nodded, eyeing Jack, telling him with a look that I didn’t want to talk about it. He saw the look and dropped his eyes.

“I can’t believe this,” Mom said. “You never said a word about this.”

“Like I said, it’s not really worth talking about. I didn’t go.” I was surprised to hear quite an edge to my voice, and it had an immediate effect on the momentum of the conversation. We were all quiet for a while, just concentrating on our food. But the longer dinner went on,
and the more David talked, the more uncomfortable everyone got. In a way, as obnoxious as he proved to be, it was good that David was there, as a distraction. Even George’s entrance, about halfway through dinner, went fairly unnoticed because of the attention on David.

I watched David and remembered my first instinct, when I met him on the train to Omaha, had been not to trust him. On that trip, I’d grown to like him, and my memories of him had always been rather fond. But he’d changed. By the time Mom brought out the pan of cookies she’d baked for dessert, we had conceded all conversation to David. We didn’t have to ask questions. We just sat and listened to his unsolicited opinions about everything from the New Deal to The Grapes of Wrath (he thought that Steinbeck was exaggerating). He really brought the hair on our necks up when he stated that if he had owned a farm or ranch during the past ten years, he not only could have made money, he could have become even richer than he was.

A slight grin turned up the corner of Dad’s mouth, and I could tell he was barely able to hold back his laughter. But Mom was not amused. Her head jerked back as she took a deep breath in through her nose and pulled her mouth to a point. Rita shook her head. And Jack stood up dramatically, picking up his plate and carrying it toward the kitchen.

“Well, I have to drive David in to Belle tomorrow to catch the train, and I’m pretty well tuckered out from wrestling with that big machine, so I think I’ll turn in. Where do you want me to sleep?” he yelled from the kitchen, poking his head in, looking to Mom.

“You and David can sleep in your old house. Nobody lives there anymore.”

“Okay. Great,” Jack said, reentering the room. “Thanks so much…all of you. It’s really good to see you all.” He looked down at George, who was seated closest to the kitchen. Jack nodded to him, and to everyone’s surprise, George turned his eyes toward Jack. He didn’t acknowledge him or say a word, but he did look at him. And those of
us who knew him well realized that in his subtle way, George had turned a corner.

Jack and David were gone when we got up the next morning. Rita looked worried, and I felt as if I should talk to her, but I had to get out to the fields. I wasn’t sure what I would say anyway. That day, Dad and George and I fumbled through our work with stunned expressions, getting about half what we would normally get done, trying to adjust to the presence of this person we’d spent ten years trying to forget.

Dad looked old that day, and spent a lot of time wiping his brow with his kerchief. George’s attention was everywhere but on his pitchfork. As we dragged ourselves back to the house, all I wanted to do was sit in front of the radio for a couple of hours, then go to bed. I wasn’t even hungry. But when we got there, Jack had returned, Bob and Helen were there, and the mood was spirited.

Most of the talk passed between Bob, Jack, and Mom, and it reminded me of Bob’s almost reverent admiration for Jack when we were younger. He would be the happiest to see him, I thought, and I tried to believe that their bond would help ease us all through the adjustment.

Helen and Rita were both quiet, focusing their attention on matters in the kitchen. Rita was tense. She turned to look at Jack now and then, only brief glances, as if she was making sure that he hadn’t snuck off again, or wasn’t trying to come near her. It was hard to tell which, and I wanted very badly to know. It bothered me to think that she might be even remotely happy to see him.

We ate a big dinner without incident, and as everyone retired to the living room, I announced, “Well, I need to turn in. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Blake, just a second before you go to bed.” Jack pulled me into the
kitchen, and everyone followed us discreetly with their eyes, curious, as they walked in the opposite direction, into the living room.

It was the first moment Jack and I had been alone since his return, and I prepared myself for a showdown. I was ready for a confrontation. I imagined all kinds of things Jack might have to say to me, and I had comebacks ready for every one of them. I was ready. I was ready, and even hoping that he would start something. Because for the first time in my life, I felt like I wanted a fight. But when Jack looked at me, he was smiling in a way that was disarming—it was friendly, even playful. There was no sign at all of the usual underlying smugness in his eyes, which made me more nervous.

“Hey, I ran into Lonnie Roberts today when I was in Belle,” Jack started, a little glimmer in his eye.

My first thought was that Jack could probably use a few more positive influences than Lonnie right now, but I pushed that into the back of my mind and heard him out.

“He tells me that his sister…you remember Sophie?” He looked at me, smiling big, those new teeth shining.

“Yeah, sure, of course,” I said.

“Well, Lonnie says that ever since you came by his place a couple of years ago, you and Bob…”

I nodded.

“Ever since then, she’s been asking about you until he’s about sick of hearing it. Always wondering if you’ve been by again, or whether he’s seen you in town lately, that kind of thing.” Jack put his hand on my shoulder, still smiling, and I couldn’t hide my intrigue. A slight smile came to my lips.

“Aaaah,” he said. “You like that, huh? Well, brother, maybe you oughta do something about it.”

I blushed and said nothing, dropping my eyes, and Jack laughed. “Well, well. I didn’t know if you had it in you, old buddy,” he said.

I regretted going to bed early that night as I wasn’t a bit tired. Eventually I had to get up and take a walk, hours after I’d lain down, a couple of hours after everyone else had gone to bed. I went and sat on the bulldozer, pushing and pulling the levers, then lighting a cigarette and smoking it slowly, watching the orange glow in the dark.

Pup ran over and romped around the machine, trying to bring herself to jump up onto the tracks. But the dozer was too frightening, and she whined, staring up at me, her head tilted to one side. I told her I was too tired to come down and see her right then. Eventually she gave up and trotted away.

I sat for nearly an hour, my head full of questions. Questions about Jack—was he up to something, or did he really just want to be part of the family again? The potential for heartache, especially for Rita and the boys, made me sick to my stomach, and I tried to think about Sophie instead. But thoughts of her also made me nervous. Thoughts of her had always made me nervous, which was part of why I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of thinking about her much. I was amazed and thrilled that she asked about me. But I couldn’t decide what I should do about it. Or I knew what I should do, but wasn’t sure when or how. Especially how. The whole process, the rules of that part of life, were such a mystery to me. I knew nothing.

So I rolled another cigarette and stared up into the black sky at the stars, breathing in the smell of baked grass and dust. And I breathed in deeply, maybe hoping to inhale some wisdom from the cool evening breeze. I laughed to myself, thinking that just that morning, riding in circles on the tractor, my only complaint about my life would have been boredom. That problem had certainly taken care of itself with no help from me. It looked as if I wouldn’t have to worry about being bored again for quite some time.

R
omance happens one of two ways on the prairie—very fast, or very slow. The reason is simple. When two people meet, they generally live at least a couple of hours away from each other. It makes courtship worse than hard, especially without telephones. The only way around this is to get married and live in the same house. But for those who don’t want to rush into things, getting to know each other takes a long, long time.

This was one reason that, at thirty-eight years old, I had never come close to marriage. I had yet to meet anyone besides Rita whom I would consider marrying in short order. And of course there were a few obstacles there. But I couldn’t see the sense in a quick marriage anyway. Getting to know my wife after the wedding sounded pretty damn frightening. And I was always working too hard to put much time into courting someone who lived far away. The idea of driving to some girl’s
house several nights a week, as Bob had done with Helen, didn’t appeal to my sensibility. Sleep and rest were too rare, too valuable.

As the result of all this nonsense, when Jack told me that Sophie Roberts was interested in seeing me, I had no motivation to pursue the possibility, especially with her living in Belle Fourche, more than an hour’s drive away. So for almost a year, despite constant prodding and reminders from Jack, and a couple of encounters with Lonnie Roberts, who confirmed Jack’s reports, I didn’t do a damn thing. Except worry it over.

The road to Belle Fourche was slick and muddy, with light brown puddles dotting the darker brown every few feet. The rain was still coming down, flowing down the windshield in little rivers, right over the wiper blades. I drove Jack’s Chevy pickup, and I was stiff as new leather in my white shirt with pearl snaps and my cleanest dungarees. I kept looking down at my boots, which were fairly worn, and coated with mud.

On the seat next to me sat a fresh-baked chocolate cake Mom had made, insisting I take it with me “for the meeting,” she said with a wink. I hadn’t told anyone except Jack what my intentions were after the REA meeting that afternoon, and although I was convinced he told everyone, I don’t think he had to. I suspect all the attention I paid to my appearance gave me away. I even combed what was left of my hair, which must have been the clincher.

The grass sparkled green with moisture. The fields were still more brown than they were green, but the previous winter had dished out a generous helping of snow, and we already had more rain that spring than we’d been accustomed to getting for an entire year. For the first time in two decades, the air smelled alive, like the skin of a baby just out of its bath.

I peered through the blur of water at the swirling brown and green
countryside and smiled a little hopefully. There was no reason to believe this season was anything but a fluke, and that within a year’s time, I would be staring once again at miles of gray dust clouds. But I chose to ignore this possibility for the moment, and enjoy a bit of optimism. I waved gladly to each passing vehicle, not able to see if my greetings were returned, although I assumed they were. Only out-of-staters didn’t know to wave on a country road.

Gravel bounced off the bottom of the pickup’s floor, like an echo of the rain tapping the roof. I came to a muddy stretch, and although I slowed to a crawl, I hit a bump hard enough to send the cake flying. It landed on its side and stuck, on the floor. I swore. But the cloth wrapped around it didn’t come off, and after pulling the pickup off to the side, I lifted the cake with both hands, trying to retain its shape. Still, I could feel it breaking into chunks inside the cloth, and I groaned.

I approached Belle Fourche, where wisps of chimney smoke fought upward through the downpour. The town looked scrubbed, the dry wood buildings sparkling with water, every vehicle free of dust, and dogs romping through the streets, their hair slicked down against their hides. The people outside either held something over their heads or let the water run from the brims of their hats, like the stream from a pump. I didn’t see any umbrellas. Nobody’d had reason to own an umbrella for some time.

It was ten minutes after the scheduled meeting of the Rural Electrification Association, which was generally when they started. I stomped my boots on the porch of the Belle Fourche Town Hall and ducked inside. Sure enough, the president was just calling the meeting to order. I took off my hat and brushed the water from it as I sat down.

My mind was not on electricity that day, and I had a difficult time following the discussion. My concern was with what to say when I got to Sophie’s house. She wasn’t expecting me, so I needed a believable
explanation for showing up. But I couldn’t think of anything that made sense. The original plan had been to tell her that Mom had baked the cake for her and the children, but using the cake was out of the question now.

Behind the various ideas jumbling around in my head, I heard something about reports. Members began to stand and talk briefly, turning halfway where they stood, then settling back into the folding chairs. After the third one, I realized that the president of each regional chapter was giving a report on their last meeting. And I was president of the Albion chapter.