Out of Darkness (20 page)

Naomi blushed for the first time inside the tree. “Something for you,” she said. “Hold on.” She turned away, meaning to get it out herself. Suddenly the game she had planned seemed crude, not sweet and playful as she'd imagined it.

“Wait.” He twined his fingers through hers and leaned close. His breath was warm on her neck, and she could almost feel his lips. “Did you hide something for me to find?”

“Yes, but...” She hid her face. “I can't ... Now I feel...”

“Nope,” he said, lifting her chin with a finger. “Don't even say it. If there is one thing you're not, at least inside this tree, it's shy.”

“I'm fast, then?” she blurted out.

“No,” he said, “you are bold, and I love it. I love it about you, Naomi. Do you hear me?” He tilted her face toward him.

“I hear you,” she whispered.

He undid the buttons of her dress until he could slide a hand inside the top of her slip. There was a small roll of fabric nestled warm and tight there. He leaned over her and tugged it free with his teeth. When he had it, she could feel him smiling mischief at her. “What do you say I save this and keep looking to see what other treasures I can find?” He nuzzled her neck and kissed her behind the ear. He smelled of wood and pepper.

She exhaled slowly and buttoned her dress back up with shaky fingers. “It's not as beautiful as the ring, but I did make it for you.”

It was a linen handkerchief with a scalloped edge and a line of embroidery all the way around. In the corner was a cursive capital W. She had studied the twins' penmanship notebooks to make sure she got it right.

“Thank you, Naomi,” he said.

They held each other tight. The hunger between them grew fierce. But it was Christmas, and they both had to get back, so they pocketed their presents and said good-bye.

 

BETO
Back at home, Beto and Cari sat by the heater in the bedroom and waited for Naomi to come. Beto spun the wheels on the truck, and Cari folded her ribbons. When she was done, she picked up her doll, then dropped it with a sigh by the side of the bed she shared with Naomi. Her eyes were fixed on the guitar case under the bed.

“Don't,” he warned.

“I'm not doing anything,” she said, but he could tell she knew what he meant.

Beto picked up the small red book Naomi had given him. “Cari,” he whispered, “come here.” He handed her the notebook. “Does this seem heavy to you?”

She balanced the book on her palm. “No,” she said, “but maybe I'm stronger than you.” She was, Beto knew, but that wasn't it.

He took the book back. There it was again, that strange weight.

Not good.

Not bad.

Powerful.

 

NAOMI
Naomi spent the days before New Year's Eve making herself a dress. She thought about saving some of the yellow fabric to make an Easter dress for Cari, but Cari said she absolutely did not want to match. And so Naomi gave herself permission to be extravagant with the cloth. She planned a full skirt with two layers and a broad waistband. And she would sew in a pocket. She wanted to make sure that she had a place to put Wash's ring.

The more she worked on the dress, the better she felt about it. She was finishing the project on New Year's Eve when Edgar stalked in and began to paw at the skirt of the dress. Naomi looked up and saw Beto in the doorway.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought you and Cari went to get firecrackers with Katie and Jean.”

“Edgar didn't like the Black Cats,” he said.

“I don't need her putting holes in anything with those claws,” she said.

“Don't wear it,” Beto blurted out.

“Pardon?”

“That dress. I've got a bad feeling about it. Just ... throw it all away.” Beto gestured at the last of the carefully pinned pieces of cloth waiting to be stitched together.

“Throw it away! Of course not. You know very well that that would be rude and ungrateful. And anyway, I have to make a dress for one of my classes. This is homework.”

Beto's shoulders slumped.

“Go play,” she said. “There'll be some good treats at the party tonight.” The church was having a potluck dinner and bonfire to celebrate the New Year. The gathering was intended as a wholesome alternative to rowdier festivities for the night, and she hoped she could make sure that Henry attended.

Beto stalled. “Can I help make something?”

Henry came up in the hallway behind him then. “Cooking is women's work, same as sewing. Act like a man, Robbie. Go outside and get your hands dirty. You don't start toughening up, I might have to drown that cat of yours.”

The blood drained from Beto's face, and he rushed to pick up Edgar. “Going fishing,” he called shakily. A moment later, the screen door clattered behind him.

Naomi opened her mouth to tell Henry that he had been too harsh, then she stopped herself. For all she knew, it took more toughness than a woman could manage to help a boy grow up. She went back to work, but she could feel Henry standing there, watching her. She heard him open his cigarette case and strike a match.

“Want one?” he asked her, holding the case out in her direction.

She shook her head. “Thanks, anyway.” Still, the offer made her feel strangely proud, like her adulthood had registered to him. Like he had noticed how much she did to keep things running for him and the twins. Or maybe he'd already been drinking and was in the friendly stage of intoxication.

“You're going to look real pretty in that,” Henry said, nodding at the pieces of the dress. Then he went off toward the kitchen.

◊ ◊ ◊

At the bonfire, Naomi saw Tommie and Dwayne Stark holding hands, and she smiled. Tommie had told her that all she wanted for Christmas was for Dwayne to ask her out. When Dwayne rested his chin on top of Tommie's head, she looked up at him with the sweetest smile. For once, Tommie wasn't talking.

“Hi, stranger,” Gilbert said. He handed her a metal rod and then slid a marshmallow onto the end.

“Hello,” she mumbled. She stared intently at her marshmallow, holding it outside the lower flames to avoid blackening it. She used her left hand to hold the rod and kept her right arm behind her. The burn was mostly healed, but echoes of the pain came back if she got too close to heat.

Gilbert stood close beside her. “Too bad you got that pretty new coat. Now you don't need my jacket,” he said. “Did you see Tommie and Dwayne? They make a swell couple.”

She smiled. “They sure do.”

“We would, too,” he said softly. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

There was a long pause while Naomi tried to think of some way of moving the conversation away from this notion. “You could have any girl you want,” she said.

“You're the one I want, though,” he said. His voice was low, and the flickering firelight played across his tan cheeks.

“Surely not,” she said. She felt herself stiffen, and it was all she could do not to back away and run.

“Don't you know how pretty you are?”

“You know I'm ... not like other girls here.”

“You're good as anybody!” he said, his voice rising a little. “Sure, some people have their ideas, but where you're from don't bother me none. Nothing wrong with being Mexican. And anyway, my pa always said it's a man's job to bring his woman up a bit.”

Naomi bit her tongue; she knew he meant to be kind. “I can't,” she said finally.

“How come? You ain't seeing anybody else, are you?”

“What difference does it make?” Naomi asked, dodging his question to avoid an outright lie. “It's not enough for you to like me.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “You mean you don't like me. Sure, I understand.” He nodded slowly and stepped back.

“It's not that,” she said quickly. “I like you, but not that way. Let's be friends.”

He laughed. “That excuse is more used than a box of Ivory flakes on wash day.”

She shrugged. “I'm not like everybody else,” she said again. Her left hand disappeared into the pocket of her skirt, and she ran her finger in rapid circles around the birds on her ring. Wash, Wash, Wash.

“Friends, then,” Gil said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

“Friends,” she said.

◊ ◊ ◊

It was a quarter till midnight before Naomi could get away from the bonfire. She raced from the church, following the edge of the river. When the land started to rise, she cut sharply to the north. She needed to hurry if she was going to make it in time. She got to the top of the hill and scanned the area as she caught her breath. A moment later, she saw movement in the bushes, but it was only a small covey of bobwhites startled from their roost.

She had come across the huge magnolia tree while out on a walk with the twins the week before. The tree's thick limbs draped all the way to the ground, forming a kind of low-ceilinged room surrounded by the waxy evergreen leaves. The branches were strong all the way up into the crown of the tree, which stretched fifty or sixty feet into the sky. The twins had begged her to help them climb it, so she'd pointed out the footholds and handholds all the way up.

Now, her hands itched to find their way up again. She untied the yellow ribbon Cari had put in her hair and draped it on a low branch so Wash would know that she was in the tree. She wanted to share this view with him, and their regular spot was too far from the church for her to manage a meeting. He'd promised to come at midnight if he could get away.

She made her way up the tree, working carefully to avoid snagging her new dress. The view from the top was even more breathtaking at night. She could see the county laid out across the hills. There was the Baptist church, its steeple partly illuminated by the high flames of the bonfire. She could see lights on in the Humble camp and in houses scattered here and there in clearings. The moon was reflected in the Sabine for a moment, then heavy clouds darkened the sky again. In distant clearings, firecrackers went off. Across the landscape flares burned bright blue and gold as far as she could see.

She had counted forty-nine flares when she thought she heard movement at the bottom of the tree.

“Is that you?” she called down softly, but there was no answer. “Wash?” she whispered.

For a panicked moment, she imagined that someone had followed her from the church. Even the twins would cause her problems right now.

“Say something,” she pleaded with the darkness.

“I love you?” came Wash's voice.

“That
is
something,” she said, laughing. “Say it again, but not like a question.”

“I love you.”

The branches beneath her creaked. The heavy dark leaves rustled. Closer. Closer. She sucked in a breath, felt it cold in her chest.

“Again,” she said.

“I love you.” He was on the branch beneath hers, and his hands slid up her stockings slowly, slowly. His fingers crept over her knees, then stopped. “Well?” he said.

Naomi closed her eyes and listened and felt the age of the tree trunk under her hands. She remembered all the lights she'd seen over the countryside, only now they were compressed in the center of her chest. Her heart was a ball of light, and it was Wash who had made it so.

She tried on the words. “I. Love. You.” Nothing had ever felt truer.

Wash let out a breath and slid his hands up to her thighs. He lifted her down onto his branch and held her tight, and she knew for certain that hers was not the only heart full of light.

Then fireworks exploded over the church in red and green and blue bursts.

Midnight.

Their kiss outlasted the fireworks.

JANUARY 1937

WASH
Wash was so busy finding ways to be with Naomi that he all but forgot the scheme to get money to improve the colored school. But the seed of his idea had sprouted in his father's imagination, and a week into the new year, Wash found himself walking with his father toward Mr. Crane's back porch. They'd had a meeting set with the school board, but the entrance to the main hall and all the side doors of the school had been locked tight.

Wash stopped in the middle of Mr. Crane's yard, but his father continued up the porch steps and knocked softly at the door.

Mr. Crane's stern-faced housekeeper answered it. “Can I help you?”

“Good evening, Miss Cayla,” Jim began. “I hope you can. I'm looking for the superintendent. We had a meeting with the school board set for this evening. I thought it would be in the administrative office, but the school is locked.”

Cayla's eyes drifted toward the school before settling on Wash. “Mr. Crane isn't available tonight, sir.”

“I'm sure the meeting was today.” Jim said.

“Mr. Fuller, I'm telling you, the superintendent isn't available.” Her words rang out sharply, and her hands were at her hips. Jim frowned and glanced back at Wash.

Wash shrugged and checked his watch. It was almost six o'clock, and the meeting was supposed to be at five thirty. When he looked up, he saw a curtain move in one of the parlor windows and a glimpse of Mr. Crane's long, sharp nose and close-cropped white hair.

“Come off it, Miss Cayla. I can see Mr. Crane up there in the parlor.” Wash raised his voice. “Evenin' Mr. Crane! We're hoping to speak with you.” He flashed a grin in the direction of the window, but the face was gone.

“Y'all best go on quick now. Don't wanna find no trouble or make none,” Cayla said softly, urgently. This time her words were just for them.

“Thank you, Miss Cayla,” Jim said. He headed down the steps.

“There's no trouble here. We can wait a spell,” Wash called. His father shot him a warning look, but he stopped and waited next to Wash.

Cayla twisted a dish towel in her hand and went back into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, the screen door opened, and there was Mr. Crane.