Touched (12 page)

Ten

B
Y the time I returned from New Orleans, JoHanna and Duncan had come and gone. They were back in Fitler with JoHanna’s Aunt Sadie, according to Floyd. I suppose it was because Floyd was their friend, the closest thing left in Jexville to them, that drew me down to the boot shop on that Wednesday. I’d told no one about New Orleans, or about my nausea. I had begun to think of ways to do away with myself. Perhaps it was my own thoughts that drove me to seek out someone who could hold my desperation at bay with words and stories, and even the vaguest link to JoHanna. At any rate, I went to the shop under the pretense of having a pair of shoes made.

Floyd was in the back of the dark shop that smelled like leather and polish. Moses’s Bootery was a long, narrow, wooden building that shot straight back from a few racks of display boots. The front display section was divided from the larger workshop in the back by the office where Axim Moses sat stooped over his desk. The office was solid wood on the bottom but with bars going to the ceiling, more like a horse’s stall than anything else. A narrow passage bypassed the office and gave onto the room where Floyd was intently working by the natural light of a single window.

He straddled a rough wooden bench with a wooden foot situated so that he could work on the boots and shoes without having to hold them. With great care and no small degree of skill, he was piecing the leather vamp on a pair of fine boots. Mr. Moses was busy in the small office with some paperwork, so I went all the way to the back.

Floyd’s smile made me want to cry. He was genuinely pleased to see me.

“Hi, Miss Mills.”

“Don’t stop,” I told him, not wanting to interrupt his work for my make-believe mission.

“You want some shoes?” He looked down at the pair I was wearing. They were new, but they didn’t fit exactly right. My long skinny foot seemed to bunch down at the toes after I’d walked for any length of time. “Those don’t fit too good.”

“I just came to look. Maybe later I can get some shoes.”

He got up and came over to me, kneeling down at my feet, his gaze intent on my shoes, his fingers pressing at the toes. I had to catch my breath to keep from shifting away from him. Elikah pursued his handsomeness; Will took his for granted. Floyd was simply oblivious.

“These don’t fit at all. Your toes are all cramped up in there.” He pressed hard, drawing an exclamation of discomfort from me. “Sorry,” he said, looking up. “You’re gonna get the arthritis if you wear these shoes. Cripple your feet.”

Somehow he managed to lift my foot and take off the shoe. It was a relief to stand barefoot, at least on one side.

Before I knew it, he’d inserted a piece of paper beneath my foot and extracted a pencil from behind his ear. Using great care he drew the outline of my foot.

“Now the other,” he said.

“The other?”

“No two feet are alike. No point in making shoes that fit one foot but not the other.”

I let him take off my shoe, standing barefoot like a fool. And I had said that Floyd was a loon. If Elikah walked into this shop and saw me standing barefoot with a man on his knees in front of me, I’d be more than sorry.

“Floyd, I—”

He grabbed my hand and put it on his shoulder so I could balance. “Just a minute more.”

The pencil moved around my foot, tickling my instep.

“See here, it’s that heel, and right at the big toe. You’re narrow.” He’d slid the drawing out from under me and was pointing with the pencil.

I looked up to be sure Mr. Moses was still busy in his office. His back was to me and his head was bent over the papers he had out on his desk.

“Sit down.” Floyd waved me to a chair. He stayed on his knees, but edged toward me. “I have to measure more.”

“Floyd, I can’t afford shoes now.” I had to tell him. He was so completely sincere that he made me ashamed. And nervous. “I just wanted to say hi. To see if you’d heard anything from JoHanna.”

“They’ll be home tomorrow. We’re going on a picnic. JoHanna sent a note by Bruner this morning.” He reached for my foot, a tape measure in his hand. “Stand up,” he said, bending over my foot.

Moving from the length of my toes to the arch to the heel to the ankle, he took the measurements, making a note of each on the paper that contained the drawing of my foot.

“I can’t have shoes,” I told him again.

He motioned me back to my seat and lifted my left foot, examining as he turned it first one way and then another. He was so intent on his work that even I became interested. It was almost as if it weren’t my foot at all, but someone else’s. A strange, pale thing that had sprouted at the end of my leg without pain or warning. His fingers began to work over the soul of my foot, probing gently, and I was more than aware that it was my foot again.

I’d gotten a little more at ease with him hovering over me. It was just something he did with everyone who came to buy a pair of shoes or boots. It was pleasant, actually, the feel of his warm hands on my feet. His fingers probed the callouses on my heel and the ball of my foot.

“That’s because your shoes don’t fit,” he said, nodding. “You’re rubbin’ there. Sure sign of trouble.”

My feet were long and slender, but they were almost petite against his large hand.

“I’ve got some really fine leather. I’m making Sheriff Grissham these boots.” He got up in a quick, fluid movement and went to his work bench to retrieve the half-made shoe. “See. Duncan helped me with the pattern.”

I took the leather which still seemed warm from his hands. It was the vamp of a boot, highly ornate, with stitching that seemed to draw pictures, only it wasn’t a picture of anything I’d ever seen before.

“That’s timber rattler,” he said, pointing out the strange design. “I made it just like Duncan told me. She drew the picture and told me how it was, and I knew how to make it.”

“It’s beautiful.” I held it up, letting the broad shaft of light strike it. The snakeskin seemed to come to life in the sun, almost to move with the sinuous grace of its original owner. “It’s really beautiful, Floyd.” I’d never imagined he was such a craftsman. Fine leather boots, yes, he was known for his work. But the intricacy of this design was like a painting.

I looked up at him and saw that he was frowning. “What’s wrong?” My bare foot on the floor felt suddenly indecent.

“It’s from one of Duncan’s dreams. She was upset.”

I didn’t completely follow him. “What dream? What came from a dream?”

“The picture on the boot. Duncan dreams about a man in the water. It’s not like a whole dream, but only bits and pieces.” He looked up at me, his fingers unconsciously massaging my foot. “He scares her.”

More than likely it was Mary Lincoln’s drowning that had Duncan upset. I figured that was why JoHanna was spending so much time in Fitler. After that baptism scene, it was better for them that they made themselves scarce. At least until Will got back from Washington. People in Jexville were acting like it was Duncan’s fault that Mary drowned.

Floyd’s hand on my shoulder startled me. “Duncan says the dream is like being trapped underwater. She hasn’t told JoHanna. Only me.” Pride was mixed with concern. “You won’t tell, will you? Duncan would be mad.”

“No, Floyd. I won’t tell.” His secret was perfectly safe with me. I had enough of my own, and no one to share them with. “You said JoHanna will be back today?”

“Maybe right now. Miss Nell is bringing them back. She went over to Fitler to see her mama’s people and she’s gonna give JoHanna and Duncan a ride home. I’m gonna get some rolls from Mara. To surprise JoHanna and Duncan. I can get one for you, too.”

I reached out and touched his arm, startled by the hardness of the muscle on his forearm beneath his shirt sleeve. “Thank you, Floyd, but I’d better stay home and make supper for Elikah.” I couldn’t go on a picnic, but I had to see JoHanna. Alone.

He nodded. “I’m gonna tell Duncan the story of the pirates on the Pascagoula River. It’s a true story.”

“Maybe I could hear it another time.”

“The head pirate’s name was Jean Picard.” He grinned up at me, delighted with himself. “JoHanna taught me how to say his name. She said it was French. He was hanged in New Augusta. They built the gallows right by the courthouse. It was the same place they hung old James Copeland.”

I’d heard of the outlaw James Copeland, but Jean Picard was a new one on me. Very likely something JoHanna had made up, passed to Duncan, and it had finally become another item in Floyd’s treasure chest of tales. With repetition, he’d come to believe it was true. That was Floyd’s weakness. He wasn’t a loon, like I’d first thought, but he was an innocent. He believed everything people told him, even to the point that his real father had been a gunslinger. That was one of the crueler fabrications of the townsfolks, but Floyd had accepted it so completely that now not even JoHanna could dissuade him.

“I’d love to hear about James Copeland and Jean Picard, but I can’t.” I didn’t point out that JoHanna had not extended an invitation to me.

“Okay.” He leaned over toward me, his long arm sweeping up the drawings of my feet. “When you want shoes, I’m ready now. You just have to tell me what you want.”

“As soon as I have some spare money, I’ll be back.” I got up, sliding my feet into my shoes. Floyd went back to his bench and picked up a small mallet he was using to pound the leather. I stood for a moment, watching him. What illness had left him with the trust and wonder of a child? Was it a gift or a punishment?

Watching him work the leather, I had to admit that Floyd was far happier than I was.

Eleven

“H
OW about some bacon and eggs, Mattie?” JoHanna held the spatula in her hand as she turned to me. On the stove the cast iron skillet was spitting and popping with the strips of bacon that sizzled in it.

“No, thanks.” I swallowed, running my finger around the edge of the cup of coffee I had not touched. Sitting in JoHanna’s kitchen, I was terrified. I’d come to her because of Janelle’s gossip, and watching her stand at the stove, her arms pale but muscular in the short-sleeved blouse, her head covered in a fine fuzz of chestnut, I couldn’t bring myself to ask what it was I wanted.

“You haven’t been sleeping lately, have you?”

She wasn’t even looking at me. She was turning the bacon.

“No.”

“Is it Elikah?”

“No.” I swallowed again, letting the coffee warm my hands. “Well, yes and no.”

“Are you pregnant?” She turned around and held me with that blue, blue gaze.

“I think I may be.” I started to cry. “I don’t want to die.”

Her smile was immediate. “Most people don’t die in childbirth, Mattie. You know that. It’s frightening, but completely natural.” She put the spatula down and came around the table to put her hands on my shoulders, lifting the heavy braid of hair that hung down my back.

I wanted to lay my head on the table and squall. As it was, though, I fought back my tears and straightened my back. I couldn’t look at her, but I could tell her. “I don’t want this baby. If I have to have it, I’ll kill myself so it won’t be born.”

Her hands continued to pull at my hair, the slight tugs of a mother ordering a mess. At last she dropped the braid and went back to the stove and turned the bacon. She took it out, draining it on some brown paper, and moved the pan off the stove. “Let me fix Duncan’s eggs,” she said. “Then we can go for a walk.”

I’d dried up my tears, and I was determined not to cry again. She wouldn’t believe me if I cried. She’d think I was being a baby and was just upset over my circumstances.

With the skill of a practiced cook, she broke the eggs in the hot grease and flipped them. In less than a minute she had the plate ready. “Duncan gets breakfast in bed, but then she has to get up and try to walk. I think she might be getting a little stronger.”

She talked as if she’d forgotten what I’d said earlier. It made me steadier, gave me a chance to compose myself.

She put the plate on a tray with some milk and toast. Pushing open the kitchen door with her butt, she stopped and looked at me. “Mattie, would you throw Pecos those crusts of bread?” Then she vanished through the door.

I took the crusts and went outside. Pecos was still not my best friend, but we’d gotten to the point where he didn’t try to spur me anymore. I’d just finished crumbling the bread when JoHanna came out the door, her apron in her hand. She dropped it on the top step and signaled for me to follow her as she started across the backyard and into the woods.

We walked about fifteen minutes before we came to a small creek completely canopied by trees. We walked downstream to a place where the creek was nearly four times as wide, and deeper, the current a good bit slower. JoHanna began to take off her clothes. “I need a swim,” she said.

I looked down at the ground, suddenly self-conscious. I’d never taken my clothes off in front of a woman except my mother and sisters, and that had been before I was married. JoHanna had said before that she swam naked, but I hadn’t really believed her. She’d brought no bathing suit.

“In deference to your sensibilities, I shall swim in my underwear.” JoHanna was teasing me with her tone and her words. I looked up to find her standing in her bra and drawers, hardly more than scraps of lace. “I think you should give this a try. I find that I think more clearly after a swim. And we don’t have long. Duncan will need me to help her get dressed.”

She walked into the water, giving a little shriek at the coldness of it. When she was knee deep, she dove in, surfacing on the other side of the black water. “It’s cold at first, but the water’s deep enough here.” She pointed downstream. “Will gave some beavers a little assistance to dam it up so we could swim.”

The thought of Will made me blush. It was not hard to believe that he and JoHanna had frolicked down here plenty of times, naked as Adam and Eve.

“Come on, Mattie. Your underwear will dry out before you get home. I swear, it’ll make you feel better.”

I stood up and unbuttoned my green dress. It fell around my feet, and I stepped out of it, leaving my shoes behind as well. The dirt was black, hidden from the sun by the thick growth of trees. I walked down to the water and waded in, stopping at my ankles. It was bitterly cold.

“Get in a little deeper, then dive. It’s too hard to inch in.” JoHanna was doing a breaststroke, the flow of water holding her stationary.

I could swim a ragged, unrhythmic stroke that kept me afloat and inched me along in the water, but nothing like her movements. Instead of diving, I sort of squatted in the water, the cold so abrupt that it made me feel as if my heart would burst.

“I love my hair short.” JoHanna brushed her hand across the fuzz that she had managed to level out a little. Perhaps her aunt had helped her cut it. “Now, when I get hot, I just put my head under the pump. It’s so cool. So easy.” She laughed. “I always wondered why men wore their hair short. Now I know.”

I was moving my arms and legs frantically to keep from freezing. But JoHanna was right. I was beginning to adjust. “Are you … ever … going to let … your hair grow back?”

She laughed at my question. “I suppose I’ll have to. Duncan’s life is hard enough without me making it worse. She’ll have to go back to school this fall.”

I hadn’t even given school a thought. Poor Duncan. What was she going to do with all of the kids thinking she’d cursed Mary? And she would have to have a rolling chair.

“Come here, Mattie.”

JoHanna’s voice was soft. I looked up. She was standing with the water just above her breasts, which were clearly visible through the lace of her bra. She was motioning for me to come on out to deeper water beside her.

The bottom was sandy, except in places I could feel with my toes that it was hard clay. Not as slick as I thought it would be. I inched out toward her, aware, too, of the pull of the current. It was faster than it looked, even in the deep pool. If Will hadn’t built the dam just below us, the water would have been a flash. Fighting the current, I made it out to JoHanna without being swept off my feet. As I got into the deeper water, there was less pull.

“Relax.” JoHanna put her arm behind my neck and eased me backward. I had a terrible moment remembering how Mary Lincoln had struggled, but JoHanna’s voice was calming.

“Relax. I’ve got you. Just lie back, and you’ll float. I’ll support you.”

I could feel her hands beneath my shoulders. My legs had floated up of their own accord, and she had one hand under my knees.

“Close your eyes.” JoHanna was smiling down at me, amused by my rigid posture. “I won’t let you go, Mattie. I swear. I won’t let you go under.”

I closed my eyes and let my head relax back into the water until my ears were covered. I could feel the weight of my hair begin to stream out behind me. My head was pointed downstream and the water seemed to rush by me. The play of sunlight in the tree branches flickered on my eyelids. It was hypnotizing, and I felt my body relax a little more.

“Now that’s it,” JoHanna said.

She kept herself perfectly still, an act of will. She was my mooring, my anchor. As long as she held me, the current could not pull me away. I looked up into her face.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.

I watched her lips move, shape the words. They were distorted, but I could hear her. All the hard edges were removed, softened by the water.

“If I’m pregnant, I don’t want the baby. I would rather die than have his baby.” My own voice was loud in my ears. I watched her face but saw no reaction.

“Does Elikah know?”

Her lips made the words again, and they came to me from a long way away, floating down to my ears.

“No.”

She nodded. “Relax.” She closed her eyes and began to move very slowly in a circle. My body followed her movements, buoyed by her hands, and I closed my eyes, letting the sun and shade play like the quick burst of fire poppers inside my eyelids. I had spoken my worst desires aloud to her, and she had not found me repulsive. She had not abandoned me. She did not think I was a monster.

I felt her hand beneath my knees drop, and my legs lowered very slowly, until my feet were in the sand. Pulling my head out of the water was hard. My hair was wet, saturated, heavy, and it wanted to hold me down. I stood and opened my eyes.

“There’s a doctor in Mobile. When Will brings the car back, I’ll take you. But you can’t ever tell anyone, Mattie. And you should know that you might never be able to have a child.”

I felt as if the water had hold of me, as if I had no control over what I said or did. “I never want children.”

She reached out and touched my cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I knew by the look on her face what I was giving away. But she had no way to understand why I did such a thing. No words could explain it. I couldn’t even really understand it myself. But I knew it was right.

“I’m going to swim for a few minutes. Why don’t you get out and start to dry. Your hair is a lot longer than mine, and it’ll take more time.”

She knew I couldn’t go home with my hair wet, but even though it was thick and fine, it would be dry long before I made the walk back to Jexville. It was going to be at least a hundred degrees by midday. A really hot one for Duncan and her picnic with Floyd.

JoHanna was talking of the scuppernong jelly that her Aunt Sadie had made. They had gone into the swamps beside the Pascagoula River and picked the wild grapes themselves. She was chatting away, trying to move the day past my terrible confession. We had just gained the edge of the yard when we heard the crash of dishes.

“Duncan!” JoHanna tore off across the yard leaving me to follow right behind her.

Pecos was in the window crowing and squawking to raise the dead as we ran to the back door and into the house.

“Duncan!” JoHanna didn’t stop in the kitchen but ran to the bedroom.

“Mama!” Duncan’s voice was upset. “It’s the man again. He was under the bridge. He was reaching out for me. Mama, he was calling my name and reaching out for me!”

I stopped outside the room, terrified by what she was saying. Her voice was soaked in anguish, drenched in fear. I could almost hear her heart beating in her words.

“Oh, Duncan.” JoHanna’s words were both calming and afraid. “It’s only a dream, honey. He can’t get you. You know I’d get the shovel from the yard and beat him to death before I let him take you.”

I could see her on the bed, Duncan pulled into her arms. Pecos was still in the window squawking, but he’d calmed some. I wasn’t prepared for Duncan’s response.

“You can’t kill him, Mama. He’s already dead.”

I put a hand against the wall to brace myself. Then I walked to the doorway and surveyed the broken dishes on the floor and JoHanna in the bed with her daughter, holding her tight. Without saying anything I began to pick up the dishes.

“No matter that he’s dead, I wouldn’t let him have you.”

I cast a glance at JoHanna to find that she was as white as Duncan. All of the healthy glow of our swim was gone.

She felt me looking at her. “Duncan has been having this recurring nightmare.”

“I fell asleep after I ate breakfast.” Duncan looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry, Mattie. I didn’t mean to break the dishes. But I was trying to get away from him and I was running, but I was in the water and my legs wouldn’t work right.”

I put a hand on her leg and patted. “Hey, it’s okay. Your mama has lots of plates.” Beneath my fingers I felt her leg jump suddenly, as if she’d been pinched. “Duncan?”

“What?”

I stood up slowly. Perhaps it had been my imagination. “Your leg. It moved.”

JoHanna sat up and put her hands on Duncan’s legs. “Can you move them?”

Duncan’s brow furrowed, her dark eyes narrowing with concentration. Her lips pinched together and she braced against her pillows with her arms.