Days of Little Texas (20 page)

A lightning flash practically rips open the window. I can hear rain hammering the yard outside. Wonderful. Perfect match for my mood. The clock in the corner reads 2:04. I fall back on my pillow.

“Are you okay?”

My mouth goes dry. Lucy’s in bed with me—only this time she’s
under the covers
. Her leg is against my leg. The heat of her body fills the bed with warmth. I reach and turn on the lamp on the table.

“Do you have to do that?” I manage to say.

“It’s just so much fun,” Lucy says, smiling. “You’re constantly ready to be freaked out, you know that, Ronald Earl?”

I’m in bed with a girl. She’s still a
girl
. I look at her sideways. Her arms are on top of the covers. She has one of the little Bible pillows pulled up against her stomach. I can see enough of the words to know what they say. Mark, chapter fourteen, verse twenty-two.
TAKE, EAT: THIS IS MY BODY
.

“Did you look at it?” Lucy says.

“Huh?”

She’s pointing at the Vanderloo property ledger.

“Oh,” I say. “I’ve been looking at it all day. I figured out what it is. It’s the slaves from the old Vanderloo Plantation, isn’t it? The people we’re supposed to help. That’s what they’ve been trying to—
wait a minute
.”

“What?”

“Where did you go last night? I didn’t know what happened to you! I fell into the kitchen, you were right behind me—”

“It was too close to you. I couldn’t let it get you. I had to go somewhere else. Somewhere that would pull it away from you.” Her hair is limp against the pillow.

“So where did you go?”

“Home
.”

“Shoot. You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I just did.”

“Oh, forget I said it. But what would that thing have done
if it had caught us down in the cellar? Can it hurt me? Can it hurt
you?
”

Lucy looks hard at me, her frosty eyes making me blink.

“Is there anything that can’t be hurt?”

“I don’t know. No, I don’t guess so.”

“Anything can be hurt, Ronald Earl.
Anything
.” She shifts around. I can feel her pressing against me under the covers. “But your body is nothing.
My
body is nothing. You understand?”

It sure doesn’t feel like nothing
.

“‘Your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost,’” I say. “First Corinthians, chapter six, verse nineteen. It’s just a vessel. Dust.”

“Except it doesn’t really hold anything,” Lucy says. “What we are can’t be held. Not by a body. We’re too
big. You’re
too big.”

She brushes against me.
Her skin against my skin
. I can’t help it. I don’t care what she is. She feels like a girl. A hot, soft girl. It’s starting. I can feel everything stirring. Just like in my dreams.

I sit up. Slide my legs around out of the covers, away from her. I can’t let her see.
Can’t let her feel
.

“What’s wrong?” she says.

I’ve got my back to her, sitting there on the edge of the bed, head down.

“I can’t—it’s not you. I mean, it’s
you
, but it’s not you. It’s
me. I’m the problem. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t. I’m sorry.”

She lays a finger on my back, making me buck a little. I can almost hear her frowning.

“Shhhh. Don’t talk like an idiot. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“Perfect? Lord. I’m about the furthest thing from perfect you can get.”

“I meant… perfect
for me
.”

We don’t talk for a little while. Another lightning bolt rips the night to shreds.

“You’ll never show me what it’s like, will you?” I say.
“Home
. What it’s like when you go there.”

“Maybe,” Lucy says. “Maybe I can show you. We’ll see.”

She’s running her fingers through my hair. It feels …
indescribable
. “Don’t you ever miss your parents?” I say.

“No. God, you’re so sweet and dumb. I’m still with them. Every day.”

“How?”

“Well… let’s see. When you’re
home
, everything is right
there in front of you, all the time. You never have to miss anything. It doesn’t go away. It can never go away. You just reach out—it’s there.”

“So you can see your parents any time you want? Be with them?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

I sit up on my elbows, making her pull her hand away. “I don’t get it.”

Lucy sighs. “See, what you think is them—my parents—
that’s not them
. That’s only the tiniest little part of them. They are way bigger than that.”

“Damnation.”

Her lips turn down, eyes sad. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

“Just wish I was smarter.”

She grins. “It’s not a smart thing or a dumb thing. Just telling you the way it is.”

I lay back against the pillow again. “Have you got any brothers or sisters?”

She does that funny little searching thing with her eyes, rolling them up and to the right.

“You can’t
remember?
” I say.

“Cut me some slack. I just don’t think about him much. I have a brother named Vincent. He’s a lot older than me. Went off to Christian college in Virginia when I was still a little kid. What about you?”

“It’s just me. I’m kind of adopted. My original folks—I was an accident.”

“There’s no such thing as accidents, Ronald Earl. That’s one of the first things you learn.”

“When you’re …
dead?
”

“I told you, there’s no such thing as—”

“I know. I know. But did it hurt? When you died? What was it like?”

She sits there looking at me as if I should know the answer.

“It’s not important,” she says at last.

“It’s important to
me
.”

Lucy laughs and pushes me with her arm. “Well, of course it hurt. What do you think?”

“But I mean … is it… something to be scared of?”

“It depends on the person, I guess. I bet there are people who are scared of rabbits.”

“I got bit by one once.”

“There you go.”

“Hey, I didn’t say
I
was scared.”

Lucy smiles. “I don’t know, Ronald Earl. Bunnies.
Brrrr
.”

“You know what I’m talking about. The
experience
. Did you see lights? A tunnel? Any folks come to greet you?”

“Hmmm … let me see. Publishers Clearing House. That check really is quite big.”

“Aw, come on, Lucy.”

“It was … foggy, okay? The important part is after. When you’re
home
, the important part isn’t
me
, it’s
us
.”

“So we all have to act the same, think with the same brain?”

“Nope. You’re still
you
. Completely you. But we’re all
connected
. Safe.”

“So there’s nothing to be afraid of?”

Lightning blasts outside the window again, making the outdoors move and jump.

“I didn’t say that,” Lucy says. “You’re asking me things … I just don’t know. Turn over.”

She rubs my bare back, laying her fingers there so light it’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. There has never been anything better than that.
Never
. I feel my eyes welling up. I’m so afraid to let her see me. Afraid to speak. Afraid of what she might hear in my voice.

Lucy slips out of the covers and sits next to me, pulling the blue dress up to her knees. Her legs look so white. She touches my arm. Her fingers are scorching—“hot as hellfire,” Certain Certain would say. But I don’t want her to move them. I don’t care if they scorch my arm off.

“I thought…” I stop myself.

She looks at me, beautiful eyes a scary, milky blue. “Please. Please tell me.”

Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

“I thought…
ghosts
… I thought they were supposed to be
cold
.”

Lucy looks away. “Is that what I am?”

I breathe slowly in and out.

“You’re a girl. That’s what you are to me.”

Now the tears are starting up in my eyes for real—I growl low down in my throat and clench my jaw to stop them up.

“I did my best,” I say. “Please. I did the best I could. To heal you, I mean. Same thing I’ve done all these years. I always
believed
I could do it. There was never any doubt in my mind. Because it wasn’t me doing it, you know what I’m saying?”

“It’s all right.”

“But I know I’m nothing special. I never have been. The power wasn’t
mine
to begin with. The power to heal. It was just… like something I was borrowing … no, something I was
given
. It was a gift. I was supposed to …” I cover my eyes with my fingers. “I was supposed to give it away. To other folks. You know?”

She squeezes my arm tighter. The storm booms outside, a rolling, cracking sound drownding me out. But I have to keep going, have to spit it all out at once.

“But to think … I was the one … I let you …”

“What?”

“Die. I let you
die
, Lucy. I’m so … I’m so …”

“I know,” she says. “You don’t have to say it.”

She leans up against me, drapes her arms around my neck. I keep my hand over my eyes, crying into my fingers. My shoulders are shaking. I try not to make any noise. I try, but sometimes I do.

Sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m nothing. Nothing. Nothing
.

The words run over and over in my head. Neither of us says anything for a good while. She lets me get it out, all of it. Finally I raise my head up and look over. She’s looking straight into my eyes.

“You are not
nothing
,” she says, touching my chin. “You’ve
never
been nothing. Even before you ever became Little Texas. You understand me?”

I just look at her, her face blurry and smeared through the tears; Lucy takes up a corner of the blanket and rubs my cheeks dry.

“If that’s what happened, if a ghost is what I am … then it’s all right,” she says. “You have to know that. You were just doing what you … do. Right? It’s okay.”

“But… you’ll never grow up, or get married. Become a
mother
, you know, any of those things.”

I swipe at my eyes, feeling my throat crinkle.

“Yeah. That’s true. That’s true. But I figure it this way-it’s kind of a
trade
. Because they need me. They need me here, to help them. They need
us
. Besides, I still get to love you, right?”

I think about that little piece of brick. “I don’t see how … how you can say that, Lucy. Not after …”

She shakes her head, her eyes still locked on mine. “You don’t understand, do you?
You believe so hard
. Even when you’re wrong about something. You’re pure, Ronald Earl. Pure light. Everybody’s got some light, but yours … it’s so
bright, they see it all around you.
It
sees your light. That’s what it wants, to take it away from you. It wants your light.”

“Tell me, please, what am I supposed to do?”

Lucy smiles. “Get your clothes on.”

I start putting them on, sniffing and feeling embarrassed. Nobody has ever seen me cry before. Not even Certain Certain.

“Are we going somewhere?” I say, still wiping my eyes.

“Outside. Get dressed. It’s a good time to show you.”

A shiver runs across my back. “What’s so important you want me to see it in the middle of a lightning—”

“Where it lives,” Lucy says.

Lucy kicks off the bed and glide-walks across the room.

“I wish I could do that,” I say.

“You can,” Lucy says. “You just don’t know that you can.”

“But—”

“Come on.”

As she moves up the hall, her dress ripples like she’s traveling underwater.

“Hey, you’re moving better,” I say.

“It’s the moisture in the air. It’s—it’s better for me when it’s raining.”

“Why?”

She turns to glare at me. “Just because a person can drive a car, it doesn’t make them a mechanic.”

“But you know way more than I will ever know.”

She smiles a wicked smile. “Ever? You’ll get there eventually. Who knows? Maybe tonight.”

“Real funny. Will it be … dangerous? Like in the cellar?”

“I won’t lie to you. It’s not the smartest thing in the world to do. But it’s safer when it’s wet. We need to go before the heavy rain stops. It probably won’t come in this kind of rain.”

“Probably?”

We stop in the kitchen.

“Can we at least get a flashlight this time?” I say.

“Hurry.”

I find an umbrella and a big, square flashlight on a shelf in the laundry room. The flashlight is the kind that runs on those heavy, square batteries. I click it on, but it’s persnickety; from time to time I have to beat it against my leg to keep it burning.

“Best we can do, I guess.”

I start for the front door, then swing the light around to see if Lucy is coming—

“Holy Jesus,” I say, stepping back.

The beam passes right through her. Just as if Lucy is built of glass, solid but somehow clear. When I pull the light away, she’s whole again.

“It’s the contrast,” Lucy says. “You can’t see it so much with the lights on.”

“But—you’re
real
, I know you’re real.”

Lucy looks at me hard. Her voice turns deeper, more faraway than ever.

“Don’t fool yourself, Ronald Earl. I have to slow down so much to be here. To be … solid. Don’t get too used to me. Don’t forget what I am. Do you think I can stay this way for good? I can’t. I’m
holding
myself here. For
you
. Because they
need
you.
I
need you. But I am what I am. And there’s nothing I can do about it. Don’t ever forget that.”

“But I can touch you….”

“And I can touch
you
.”

The way she says it makes my heart wrench. “Let’s go,” Lucy says.

I follow shaky-legged, half expecting her to flow right through the big oak front door, but she waits for me to open it. Outside the eaves are gushing rain. I pop the umbrella open and hold it over our heads.

But Lucy scoots away down the steps and out into the yard, so fast it’s hard to keep up. I can see slashes of rain splattering her arms and shoulders, the blue dress turning dark. The umbrella strains like a dog on a leash.

The sky blazes with fire, and thunder cracks overhead like a mountain sliding into the lake. I hunch my shoulders as Lucy drifts on ahead. She stops at the edge of the dock, skinny arms at her sides, waiting.

“You know how to run this thing?” she says, pointing at Tee Barlow’s Chris-Craft.

“No way. Besides, I don’t have the key.”

A big push of wind nearly carries the umbrella off, and me with it. Instead of walking out on the dock, Lucy glides down to the bank.

“Help me find it.”

“What are we looking for?” I say, watching her cut her head left and right.

Then I see what she’s looking at, Faye Barlow’s little canoe nosed up into the milfoil.

I look at the canoe, then out at the black, churning lake, hearing the rain fall. “I’ve only been in a canoe one time. What if we tump over? Or the canoe fills up with rain? We’re liable to drown!”

“Get in. There isn’t time. The storm will slack off soon.” She gets up so close, I can smell the water on her skin. She puts her hands on my arm, drawing me to her.

“Please, Ronald Earl. I need you.”

“Lord.” I stand there a few more seconds watching her drip, then step in and start furiously untying the tether.

“Come on, then,” I say. “Get in.”

Lucy looks at me, eyes glowing, face wet. She’s so close, it nearly stops my heart. She’s got her hand on the edge of the canoe.

“No,” she says. “I’d rather walk.”

And she gives the canoe a big heave, shoving me backward, and I’m spinning out into the current, alone.