Running Barefoot (34 page)

I shrugged off my dad’s worry. On my morning runs I’d never seen anything but chipmunks, birds, livestock, and the neighbors I’d known all my life.

“Samuel, come on in, and I’ll get us something cold to drink, since I’m sure Dad doesn’t really want to share.” I smiled at my dad, and Samuel followed me, excusing himself with another
polite “Sir” to my dad. I liked that.

“The manners, is that a Marine thing?” I said over my shoulder as we walked through the living room into my cheery kitchen. “Water, orange juice, milk, or caffeine?”

“Orange juice - and yes. Definitely a Marine thing. I couldn’t not say “yes ma’am” or “no sir” if my life depended on it. You live around it for ten years and it becomes pretty ingrained.”

I poured Samuel a tall glass of orange juice and handed it to him, then gulped down my requisite 8 oz of water before I let myself pop the tab on a cold can of caffeine. We leaned against the counter together, nursing our drinks in thirsty silence.

“So what comes next?” I propped my hip against the counter, turning to face him. “I mean, as far as the Marines?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Samuel face was contemplative. “I got back from Iraq three weeks ago-”

“Three weeks?” I yelped, stunned that he had so recently returned. “How long were you there?”

“All told, except for some leave stateside, I’ve spent almost three years in Iraq. Two 12 month tours -- with the last one being extended by six months. It was time to come home, whatever that means.”

“Whatever that means?” I repeated, puzzled.

“I don’t really have a home to come home to,” Samuel said matter-of-factly. “I have been in the
Marine Corp since I was 18-years-old. I’ve been stationed all over. I did two tours in Afghanistan after 9-11, and then did the two tours in Iraq. When I haven’t been deployed, I’ve either been receiving specialized training, or stationed at Camp Pendleton, or on a ship. Anyway, once I was through debriefment, my platoon was given a month’s paid leave. I’ve stored up more than that in the last ten years - I haven’t taken much. I borrowed that truck from a member of my platoon. I don’t own any wheels. No house, no wheels, all my possessions fit in a suitcase. Anyway, it’s been two weeks since I got here, and I have about two weeks more.”

“And then what?” I couldn’t imagine going back to Iraq for round three. I was exhausted just listening to him.

“And then I have to decide.” Samuel’s eyes met mine.

“Decide?”

“Decide whether I want something else.” Samuel was being cryptic again.

“You mean, something besides the Marine Corp?”

“Yeah.” Samuel set his glass down and pushed himself away from the counter. “What are you doing today?”

He changed the subject abruptly, as if his future was not something he wanted to discuss, and my brain spun with thoughts of his last ten years - wondering at his experiences, his losses and
triumphs, his friendships . . . his life. Somehow, because his letters had dwindled after boot camp, I had always imagined him in the context of that environment, in the relative safety of a military base with drill instructors watching his every move. In actuality, he had spent most of the last ten years in very hostile environments, in very dangerous places. I shuddered a little bit, and shook my head in wonder. Even when his Grandma Nettie had marveled at his sniper skills and his prowess as an ‘assassin,’ I had not processed the fact that he had most likely spent the majority of his time as a Marine in different war zones.

“Josie?” Samuel’s voice prodded, and I realized he had asked me a question.

“Hmm?” I found myself back in my kitchen, Samuel looking down at me with one eyebrow peaked, patiently waiting for my response.

“What are you doing today?” He repeated.

I glanced at the clock. “I go into the shop at 11:00 - work until 2:30, and then I walk over to the church and teach piano lessons until 7:00ish. What about you?”

“Kick around with my grandpa until you’re done at 7:00ish.” His eyes crinkled a little, hinting at a smile, and softening his assumption that I would be at his disposal as soon as lessons were over. My heart skipped wildly, and I resisted the urge to glance down at my chest to see if the skipping was noticeable under my thin shirt.

The back door off the kitchen swung open,
and I jumped guiltily, although Samuel stood several feet away. My dad stuck his white head around the door frame, standing a few steps down on the back stoop. “Hey Jos?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“I don’t think I told you, me ‘n Jacob are headin’ out to the Book Cliffs this weekend. Jacob drew out a tag in the bow-hunt out there. We’ve got some days comin’ now that shut-downs are done at the plant, so we’re gonna take the trailer and the horses and go see if we can get us an elk.”

The Book Cliffs were in Moab, about five hours Southeast of Levan. They were named the Book Cliffs because that’s what the mountains looked like - books lined up in a bookshelf. It was breathtaking country - and every hunting tag in that area was hard to come by and highly coveted. The only thing my dad liked as well as horses was hunting, and I knew he must be tickled pink about Jacob drawing out.

“Are Jared and Johnny going too?”

“Jared hasn’t been given permission,” my dad grumbled, referring to Tonya’s position as head of the household, “and Johnny’s afraid to leave with the twins being so close to comin’, so it’s just Jake and me. I think Marv might come with us, though.” ‘Marv’ was Jacob’s father-in-law, who didn’t miss many hunts either.

“When are you leaving?”

“I’m thinking we’ll head out later on today - probably be gone til’ next Thursdee or Fridee.” My
dad hemmed and hawed, as if I would complain about him being gone the six or seven days he was suggesting.

“Sounds fun.” I shrugged.

“You can come,” my dad offered insincerely.

“Ha, ha, ha, Daddy,” I said sarcastically. “Now, what if I said I wanted to, what would you do? Whose bed in the trailer would I take?” I laughed at his chagrined expression. I walked to him and kissed his scratchy cheek. “No thank you, but have a lovely time. And thank you for giving me the heads up. Actually, while you’re gone, I think I will play the piano until all hours of the night and eat chocolate cake for every meal,” I teased.

My dad eyed me soberly for a moment. “That’d be real nice, Jos. It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play - maybe you could play a little somethin’ for me when I get back -- I sure do miss it.” He said the words softly, searching my face as he spoke them. I flushed, realizing Samuel was hearing the exchange.

“It’s a date, Dad,” I said lightly, patting his cheek and turning from him.

I expected Samuel to comment on my dad’s request, but he let it rest, kneeling to greet Yazzie as he lumbered into the kitchen from his ‘bed’ in the washroom. Yazzie didn’t sleep in my room anymore. He was ten years old, an old-timer in dog years, and he didn’t like climbing stairs, although every once in a while I would wake with him
sprawled across my feet. I think sometimes he missed the old days. I missed them too, although on his rare visits I awoke to no feeling in my legs and feet.

“Hey Samuel,” my dad swung his gaze to where Samuel crouched. “You’re welcome to come along. I wouldn’t mind seein’ some real shootin.’ We got room for one more man.” My dad glanced at me apologetically as he clarified ‘one more man.’ Apparently my dad had learned a little something about Samuel’s expertise at the barbeque on Sunday.

“No thank you, Sir.” Samuel said politely. “I’ve done all the hunting I want to do for a while.” A flicker of embarrassment crossed Samuel’s face, as if he’d spoken without thinking.

My dad grinned as if Samuel had said something funny and ducked his head back around the corner without further comment, the screen door banging behind him.

“Hey, boy.” Samuel didn’t do the baby talk thing when he talked to Yazzie. His voice was mild and low, and he spent another minute scratching and stroking the big dog. Yazzie yawned widely, leaning into Samuel’s big hands, his eyes rolling back in his noble head and his tongue hanging out in sheer delight.

Eventually, Samuel looked up at me and said simply, “I’ll see you later.” Yazzie and I followed him to the front door. Samuel waved a hand and stepped outside, striding across the lawn and up the
street towards his grandparent’s house. Yazzie and I watched him forlornly - identical expressions on our mugs. “Oh for goodness sake!” I laughed, looking down at Yazzie. Yazzie ‘ruffed’ back at me, as if to say “Look who’s talking,” before he shuffled away to find breakfast.

Samuel must have tested all the doors and found the one that was unlocked, because he was waiting outside the church’s little side entrance when I walked my last student out to her bike. I was ridiculously glad that I didn’t have to make friendly small talk with a waiting parent. Or introduce Samuel. I’d had some well-meaning friends try to fix me up in the last few years, and I had had to get downright obstinate with a few folks who just couldn’t stop playing matchmaker. I’d refused every date they’d arranged. Imagine how the tongues would wag when I was seen with Samuel. All bets would be off - I would have no excuse. I would be lined up with every cousin, brother, and sister’s roomate’s uncle from now ’til Christmas. I shuddered at the very thought.

Samuel walked toward me as little Jessie Ann Wood peddled away. I double checked to make
sure I’d gotten the light and pulled the door closed, sliding the key into the lock.

“That’s your bike isn’t it?” Samuel halted beside me, nodding his head towards my old-fashioned bike leaning up against the side of the church. I felt goose bumps dance up my arms. He didn’t invade my space or reach out and touch me, and I wondered if the kisses last night had been a fluke - an impulse brought on by too much moonlight and sweet remember when’s.

“Yes. I rode this morning. It was easier than walking. My legs are shot from this morning - I’m not used to running that fast. You’ve pushed me hard twice this week, and my legs are like jello.” I smiled up at him wryly.

“In that case, I know just what you need.”

Samuel picked up my bike and began walking towards his borrowed black pick-up, lifting it up and setting it in the bed of the truck.

“What do I need?”

“You’ll see. Are you hungry?”

“Always,” I admitted honestly, and Samuel looked at me and chuckled. “Well let’s go put a little meat on those bones.”

He opened the door, and I stepped up into the passenger side, smoothing my violet skirt around my legs as I sat. Samuel reached out and fingered the crinkly material gently. “You wear skirts alot - I like that. You don’t see a lot of women who enjoy being feminine. It’s nice.” His hand dropped from my skirt and shut the door before I could respond
with more than a smile.

Samuel climbed in and turned the key. Immediately the sounds of Tchaikovsky’s
Octobre - Chant D’Autumne
slid into the space around us. I forced myself to relax into the leather seat, hearing the music and letting it in. We drove for a few minutes, listening, before Samuel spoke.

“In Iraq it’s hot more often than not, and the sand is this constant presence. I used to dream of Autumn - the cool mornings with my grandmother herding sheep away from home, waking before the sun rose and actually being chilled - sitting by the campfire and eating jerky and cornmeal cakes and Navajo tea.”

“Is that why you’re listening to
The Autumn Song
?” I smiled.

“Exactly.”

“Tchaikovsky was paid to create a short piece for each month of the year. He named the entire work The Seasons. He had to have an assistant remind him when it was time to write another ‘month.’ He joked that there are two kinds of inspiration, one that comes from the heart, and one that comes from necessity and several hundred rubles.”

“She’s ba-ack,” Samuel said under his breath in a sing song voice, and I giggled like a little kid.

“I used to play
Octobre,”
I sighed dreamily. “It always made me think of fall, too.” I shifted my attention back to Samuel, “I could feel it in the air this morning when we ran.”

“Is that why your face lit up, and you smiled that great big smile? You looked like you were about ready to take flight. I thought I was going to have to hold on to you to keep you with me.” Samuel teased, his eyes touching mine briefly.

“I’m always pretty eager for autumn to get here.” I tried to be matter-of-fact as I confessed the reason why. “Both Kasey and my Mom died when summer was just beginning - and I guess summer brings back bad memories. I’m always glad when it’s over.” I twiddled my thumbs uncomfortably in my lap. “Fall has always felt like a chance to start over. I know nature hasn’t designed it that way - it’s actually the opposite. The leaves fall off the trees, the flowers die, and winter rolls in… but I love it all the same.”