Samson and Sunset (33 page)

  “Well, I do declare, Miss Callie, you
are a sight for sore eyes.”

  Shay was always trying to make
something good out of a bad situation. I’ll bet we must have both
said at least nine times each to the other: “Isn’t the sky
beautiful today?”

  Fact is, it was cloudy and looked like
rain, but it helped make conversation. Occasionally Shay would say,
“Look at the beautiful horses, Callie.” Or, “They sure have a
good-looking heard of Angus!” Or, “Look at that neatly stacked
hay.”

  At one point I noticed a very large
field of sheep—there must have been several hundred or so. I’d
never seen that many sheep in one pasture; and standing on the edge
were three black sheep.

“Look, Shay, all those sheep and they only
have three black sheep,” I commented.

  “Do you know why they have just a few
black sheep, Callie?”

  “Because, maybe they’re rare, or hard
to find? I don’t know.”

  “Well,” Shay explained, “they use
black sheep as a counting system. A farmer may use one black sheep
for every hundred white sheep; thus three black would mean he has
three hundred white sheep in that particular field.”

  That was pretty interesting, I
decided. How else would they be able to count them?

  As we drove, Shay mentioned he would
like to raise buffalo to sell.

  “Yeah,” I said, “if you think you can
get some Native-American to sell you one or two head! What do
you
know about buffalo?”

  That did get a chuckle out of Shay. We
stopped several times to eat and to view some of the beautiful
lookout areas. I knew how much this trip meant to Shay, and whether
he believed it or not, it meant a lot to me as well. But I just
couldn’t see it changing my mind about going home to Hudson.

  The last time I came through this area
I was anxious to get home to see Kelly and talk to Cookie. Now
there was no Cookie. Oh, I so needed my Cookie to talk to.

  At one point our car radio station was
starting to static out, so Shay tuned to the only station available
in the Sand Hills. It was cattle news, country music, and who had
won what ribbons at the county fair. About thirty minutes into the
broadcast, they broke in with a news flash: two convicts had gotten
a gun from a guard and escaped from prison in Rawlins, Wyoming, in
a laundry truck.

  “Well ya see there, Shay, that’s what
I’m talking about. That’s the kind of mess I run into,” I said
nervously. “Something bad happens where ever I tread. Now we have
two convicts on the loose out here!”

  Well, that did it for Shay. He pulled
the car over to the side of the road, jumped out, came around,
opened the door and pulled me out, saying, “Woman, what in the hell
is wrong with you! Do you even know where Rawlins, Wyoming is?
Well, let me tell you, it’s far away from here. But no, now you’ve
found something new to worry about, another fear. You told me that
tragedy follows you around—hell, Callie, you drag it around on a
chain! You need to cut it the fuck loose. No wonder you’re so upset
all the time. How can you live, being afraid of everything? I can’t
live this way, and I sure as hell don’t want Kelly and Wessy
growing up, afraid of their own shadows, the way you are. Damn,
woman, you just piss me off.”

  “Oh, screw you, Shay Westover! You’re
not treating me like this. I can’t help it that things scare me. I
don’t know why! Maybe I do have an overactive imagination, but I’m
still scared when I hear things like that on the radio!”

  “Yeah, well they may have an
earthquake in California, does that scare you too, you little
brat?”

  “Stop it, Shay. You’re just being an
ass and I’m through. I’m walking home.” I started stomping down the
road toward Westover.

  “Well, don’t let the convicts get you,
Callie!” Shay called after me.

  I whirled around. “Hey, Shay,” I said,
and flipped him the bird.

  With that he chased after me, caught
me and before I could even get my finger down, he grabbed it.

  “Oh, what are you going to do now?
Break my finger, big boy?”

  “No, smart mouth. I have no desire to
break my wife’s finger.”

  He scooped me up and took me back to
the car and put me in on my side, went around, got in and we were
off again for the ranch.

  Why wasn’t I surprised that it started
raining? Not hard, just that damned mist again. I loved mist, but I
didn’t want reminders of when we were here on our honeymoon.

  After about forty minutes of silence,
Shay tried to make some pleasant conversation. “Callie, we won’t
have Samson and Sunset to ride, but there are some good old ranch
horses we can take out.”

  I wished he wasn’t trying so damned
hard to make me happy. That happiness I had in my heart for years
was gone. I knew what a disappointment that was going to be for
him. Hell, I wasn’t planning on riding. I’d thrown a couple of
books in my suitcase when Hulda was packing it; I intended on
reading the whole time we were there. We finally arrived at the
ranch at around 10 p.m. As usual there was the one little light on
inside to welcome us.

  We climbed the few steps to the porch.
Shay got his key out and let us in. Everything looked the same. It
was like stepping back five years in time. There was never a musty
smell there; it was always clean and fresh. Sherry had been there
and freshened up the place, stocking the refrigerator and
cupboards.

  “Shay, don’t you have to go tell the
guys you’re here?”

  “No, I’m not here on business,” he
said. “I’m here to spend time with you, princess.”

  “Well, I’m going to take a bath and
put my PJs on, then maybe I’ll read a little,” I said.

  “Oh, so you don’t want to shower with
me?” Shay remarked. “You think if you read you can get away from
me? Ain’t happin’, babe.”

  I did bathe and Shay showered, and
then he made us some iced tea. We sat on the sofa together and just
talked about the things we had done the last time we were at the
ranch. Shay reminded me of how happy I had been when I first saw
Samson and Sunset. Then he set his cup down, took me in his arms
and kissed me. I don’t think I gave as much response as he’d hoped
for, knowing what a real Callie and Shay love-in was like. But I
knew he was willing to settle for what I could give at the time. He
was oh so gentle—the most patient man I’d ever known. If I wasn’t
ready yet, he’d wait.

  When I awoke the next morning, I could
smell something good cooking in the kitchen. Could Shay be cooking?
He didn’t know how to cook. Curious, I got up and ambled into the
kitchen.

  “Don’t know what you’re making there,
mister, but it sure smells good,” I said.

  Shay poured me a glass of tea with a
few splashes of orange juice and said, “I had Sherry leave me a
simple recipe. Something I might be able to cook for you.”

  “So, what is it?” I asked, taking a
sip of tea. “How did you make it?”

  “Well, they’re breakfast pies!” he
said proudly. “Sherry left me directions and made the pie crusts
for me…left the ingredients in the fridge, chopped up vegetables
and chicken cubes. I had to butter the pie crusts, put it all in
just so, lay the dough on top and cut those little holes for the
heat to escape.” He grinned. “So there you have it, princess:
breakfast made by your husband. So sit down, babe, I think they’re
done.”

  They looked a little drippy around the
edges, but they smelled great and they were delicious.

  “Well, Shay,” I said, finishing off my
last piece, “I’m impressed.”

  “Impressed enough to not want to move
back to your parents’ house?”

  “Damn it, Shay.” I stomped into the
bedroom to dress. “Are you going to start that crap already? We
just got here.” I pulled on some tight blue jeans and slipped into
a big white t-shirt of Shay’s. “Why can’t we just enjoy being here
without everything having to be so intense?”

  Shay walked into the bedroom. “How do
you expect me to enjoy myself, knowing your plans are to move to
your parents’ house and take the kids?” he asked in an agitated
voice.

  “Okay, then let’s just get to it,” I
said. “Shay, the bottom line is, I am no damn good for you. I love
you more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in this whole
world. We were so young when we met, and when all your little
friends said you could do better, the fact is, Shay, you could
have. You can! Just look at that stupid argument we had coming up
here. Shay I live in fear of so many things. Ever since I was
little, things happened that scared me. It scared me that I might
lose my parents—it got so bad, Shay, that I had a hard time being
at school because I though something might happen to them if I was
gone.” My voice started to quiver. I sat down on the edge of the
bed and Shay walked over and sat down next to me.

  “What kind of things, Callie? Talk to
me. Make me understand.”

  “Little things, things that could only
affect a child. Things you’ll think are stupid.”

  “Try me!” Shay looked at me
intently.

  “Lots of things! I’m not going into
all of it, but…well, one thing I can’t forget is being eight years
old at the theatre with Martha. A written note came across the
bottom of the screen, ‘Martha Mitchell call home.’ I just panicked.
I went with Martha to the phone and it was Mom saying a bad storm
was coming and our neighbor was on his way to pick us up. Daddy had
gone to Summerfield with my uncle Jacob to go fishing. Well, the
neighbor got us home and the skies were churning a green color like
I’d never seen before. Mom took us to the basement and we stayed
there until the storm passed over. The radio news said that a
tornado had hit Summerfield and twelve people were dead. I ran to
my room, dropped to my knees and prayed for God to save my
daddy.

  “Daddy was always home by 6 p.m. and
here it was, 9:30 that night and Daddy wasn’t home. I thought he
may have been thrown in the river, or he was dead in a field. I was
numb. I couldn’t think. I just walked up and down the block from 6
p.m. to 9:30 that night. Then, there he was. He was home. He had
spent hours in farm potato cellars running from funnels, but he was
safe. It didn’t matter, the mental damage was done: tornados became
my enemy. I had for the first time experienced what the death of a
loved one might feel like. It was unbearable for me, Shay.”

  I kept talking, not looking at him.
“One night when I was probably a year or so older…our family would
all sit on the front porch at night and watch cars drive by. I
remember this big fancy car drove by—it belonged to a Hudson
businessman. Mom and Dad said to each other, ‘There’s old Arthur,
trolling again.’ I didn’t even know what trolling meant. A few
weeks later I was at the park that was a block from my house. All
the kids were there swimming in the little pool. The park was
across the street from the elementary school I went to. I saw
Arthur’s big new car come down the street real slow. Old Arthur,
trolling, I thought to myself. Then he stopped and got out and took
Vivian, a neighborhood friend of ours, by the arm and put her in
his car. Vivian was a little older than me.

  Old Arthur drove four blocks down the
road and turned by the Burlington railroad sidetrack road that went
to some pump houses, where we kids played sometimes. Well, about
half an hour later the car came back and I saw him stop in front of
the grade school and let Vivian out and drive away. I crossed the
street and went up to her, and she was all messed up; her dress was
torn and she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said
the man had hurt her. I asked her if she wanted me to go get her
daddy and she said ‘No, no, don’t do that.’ I was so naïve, I had
no idea what had just happened. But not long after that, Vivian
hanged herself in her bedroom. If I wasn’t so stupid maybe I could
have done something to help her.” By now I was standing and the
tears were really flowing.

  Shay was on his feet, standing in
front of me. “Callie, you were just a child, what could you have
done? You didn’t even know what that evil man had done! You
couldn’t have saved her, you were just a child yourself. You were
just a baby.”

  By now things were pouring out of me.
I told Shay all sorts of things right up to and including Frank
raping me in the Straw House; how it had made me feel.

  “…And then there’s my sweet Marie. Oh,
Marie.”

  I cried for several minutes in Shay’s
arms, standing in the middle of the room.

  “Those are the kinds of things I’m
talking about, Shay,” I sobbed, and with that, I clammed up. I
stopped my whole confession and became silent.

  “Oh no, you’re not getting off that
easy, Callie Westover,” Shay said with authority. “Say it, Callie.
Say it. Let it out.”

  “That’s it!” I cried. “That’s it!
There isn’t anymore.”

  “Oh yes there is, there is more. You
say it, woman. Damn it, say it!”

  “Leave me alone, Shay!” I yelled.

  “No, damn it, Callie, I won’t. You
just say it, say it right now.”

  “My baby!” I wailed suddenly. “I want
my baby and someone else has her. I can’t live without her. I want
her, Shay. I need her. I’m only half a person without my baby in my
arms, my child to love! I have Kelly and Wessy, but I have another
baby and damn it, I want her!”

  Shay put his arms around me and
stroked my hair.

  “I think when we were told to give up
on our baby was when I actually started to shut down on life. I
have days I don’t think I can go on, Shay.”

  I started sobbing and hitting Shay on
the chest, saying, “I don’t deserve anything, just let me go, let
me go.” For a few seconds, I was out of my mind. “I’m damaged,
Shay!” I screamed. “Just let me go!”

  Well, at this Shay picked me up and
took me into the bathroom, where he turned on the cold water in the
shower and put me in, clothes and all. He got in and held me while
the water pelted down on us, both of us soaked and freezing, until
I stopped hitting his chest. My sobs finally waned to a whimper as
I sunk to the floor of the shower.