October

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October Page 2

by J. Grace Pennington


  “It proves they like hymns,” I said meekly, then shut my mouth, partly because I didn’t think I ought to say anything else, and partly because the tears were already starting to spill out of my eyes and Mom had always said that I wouldn’t cry as much if I kept my mouth closed when chopping onions.

  “I’m just saying be careful, Em. That’s all.”

  I nodded. Something told me that Mom would not be inclined to favor my idea of an impromptu visit to the Rivers sometime during the week. She’d say I ought to let October settle in. I wasn’t sure why grown-ups always thought people ought to have time alone to settle in. I was sure that if I had been coming to a new place, I would have wanted lots of friendly people around to keep me from getting lonely and missing my old friends. But grown-ups were grown-ups, and generally supposed to know better.

  Of course, Daddy said I was basically a grown-up. I was already old enough to drive, and in less than a year I would be old enough to go to college, even to get married. To do nearly anything I wanted except drink, which I didn’t want to do anyway. But I knew better. There are grown-ups and grown-ups.

  Real grown ups didn’t just drive and have jobs and get married—real grown-ups were just—not the same. They had an indefinable something that set them apart, made them act, and think, and see the world differently than I did. Some people my age had it—maybe even most. But I knew I didn’t. Not yet.

  Was October a real grown-up? She looked like one—the way she dressed, the way she carried herself, the way she wore her hair. But something about her eyes and her smile, something I couldn’t quite explain, defied such a label.

  I finished cutting the onions and backed off, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “Done.”

  “Thanks, hon. You can go now, I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  I smiled, blinked, and trotted out of the room.

  Chapter Two

  Jax came over for dinner that evening. It was sure to be a regular occurrence, since he didn’t know how to cook and didn’t want to learn. Since lunch was our big meal on Sundays, Mom had just made a plate of sandwiches and a big salad for dinner.

  I didn’t talk much, an unusual state for me. Jax, too, was quiet, which was not unusual, but he seemed to speak even less tonight, only answering my parents’ questions in between bites of turkey-on-rye.

  Patrick Charles, on the other hand, rattled on as much as always—more, since the two of us left more silence for him to fill.

  “Freddy and I found a dead squirrel today. At first I thought it was hurt, and I wanted to try to catch it, but then Freddy poked it with a stick and we realized it was dead. Then Freddie said we should feed it to the bears, and I said we should bury it, and that there weren’t any bears around here, anyway.”

  “Did you bury it?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah. After church I went into the shed and found a shovel and then I dug a little hole for it, and Freddy put it inside and said a little sermon for it while I put the dirt back in. Then I made a little cross out of sticks and stuck it on top, but Freddy said that wasn’t right ‘cause a squirrel couldn’t be a Christian, so he broke up the cross and threw it away.”

  Daddy laughed. Mom gave him a look. Jax grinned at me.

  As Patrick Charles chattered, I found myself wondering whether Jax was actually quieter than usual, or whether I had just never noticed it because I talked too much. He had teased at times that it was a good thing I had no twin brother of my own, because if such a creature existed, he would have been stuck with me. Jax, as a cousin, could always leave and go home.

  I didn’t take him too seriously. After all, if he wasn’t going to talk himself, why should he care if other people did?

  “...the dishes?”

  I turned at the sound of Daddy’s voice, staring. He stared back.

  “Sir?”

  “I asked if you and Jax could please do the dishes so Mom and I can watch our show.”

  “Oh... yes sir. Jax?”

  Jax nodded. “Sure thing.”

  Mom turned to Daddy and shook her head. “She’s been like that all afternoon. That new girl has enchanted her, I believe.”

  “New girl?” Daddy scraped up the last dregs of his salad and pushed his bowl away. I stood up to begin clearing, feeling my cheeks pink again.

  “The Blake girl? Niece of the Rivers’.”

  “Oh, right. Red haired girl?”

  Mom nodded, wiped her mouth, and stood up. “Try to keep your mind on your work, Em.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Daddy winked at me and stood up. Unlike Mom, he never seemed to mind how much I liked things. When Mom complained that I was obsessed with dragons, he just said that couldn’t hurt me and bought me a necklace to commemorate my interest. When she objected to me spending too much time with Melissa, he said to let me and that I might do “that silly girl” some good. When I got in trouble for reading instead of doing my homework he condoned my punishment, yes, but he winked, and I knew he didn’t really mind that he had a daughter who loved a good story even more than he did.

  Jax stood up and picked up his plate along with mine. Mom held her hand out for Patrick Charles. “Come on, young man. It’s nearly your bedtime. Jax, you’re welcome to stay the night here.”

  Jax bobbed his head. “Thank you, but I’d better get back in awhile.”

  “Come on Jax.” I gathered up the salad bowls and tried to balance them on one arm. “It won’t hurt you to be away for one night.”

  He looked at me, then back at Mom. “It’s just that I’ll have to get up and milk the cows early.”

  “Of course. Just please be sure you lock all the doors when you get home—I did promise your mother I’d look after you.”

  “Yes ma’am, of course.”

  “You two behave, now!” Daddy called as he and Mom and Patrick Charles all left the room.

  Jax and I cleared the dishes in silence, Jax organizing them so as to stack them in the most efficient way to carry them while I balanced them any which way. When we reached the kitchen, he deposited his stack carefully in the sink, leaned against the counter, and picked up an apple.

  I snatched it away from him and put it back in the fruit basket. “You just ate.”

  “But I’m still hungry.” He followed me out into the dining room.

  I picked up some more dishes. “You are always hungry. All boys are.”

  “All right. So why do you want me to stay, anyway?”

  “It would be fun.” That was the truth. It would be fun. Jax could be quite decent company, when he put his mind to it. Besides, I felt like talking about October, and I didn’t feel like being cautioned against my budding affection.

  “You have something up your sleeve,” he insisted. The only dish I’d left on the table was a fork, and he picked it up and toyed with it as we returned to the kitchen.

  “Whatever. Help me wash these.” I dumped the last few dishes into the sink.

  “Left or right?”

  “I’ll take left.” I scooted to the left side of the sink and turned on the water. He tackled the dishes on the right, and for awhile the only sound heard was that of running water, clinking glass and metal, and my protests when Jax poked me in the shoulder or arm with his elbow.

  He finished his portion of the dishes first, then wiped the counters and vanished, leaving me to rinse the last few. I grumbled.

  “Some gentleman, leaving a lady to do the last of the work. What will I do with that boy?”

  When at last I had rinsed the last plate, I dumped some detergent into the dishwasher, gave the floor a quick sweep, and rushed upstairs to find where Jax had gone off to.

  I found him about where I had expected, reclining on the guest bed with a book in his hands.

  “Hey Jax, I’m going to take a walk. Want to come?”

  He lowered the book and peered at me over it. “You shouldn’t take a walk by yourself this late.”

  “Of course. Why do you think I want you along?”
r />   Whatever else might be said of Jax, he was always what they call a nice guy. He laid down his book without further complaint, got up off the bed, stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and followed me out the door, down the stairs, and outside.

  I didn’t bother interrupting Mom and Daddy’s show to tell them we were going. I just pulled out my new cell phone, slid out its keyboard, and texted them on my way out. Jax opened the door and stood aside to let me pass. I closed the phone, put it in my pocket, and jumped off the porch.

  “Nice evening, isn’t it?”

  “I guess so.”

  The weather had already begun to feel summer-like, and with only a few weeks of spring left, I wanted to take advantage of the mild temperatures. We started down the dirt path, Jax lagging slightly behind, and walked towards the sunset rays that streamed through the wooded patch between our house and Jax’s.

  “You going to let your hair grow more than an eighth of an inch this summer?” I teased.

  Jax shrugged.

  We passed into the woods, feet padding on the unpaved ground.

  It normally didn’t take much for me to get Jax talking, if I really tried. Occasionally, if he was very relaxed, he could even get almost chatty around me. But tonight, after a couple of tries, I gave it up and just walked, appreciating the speckles that the trees created in the setting sunlight.

  “I might go shopping with Mel tomorrow after school,” I said at last.

  “Okay.”

  “You want to tag along?” I looked over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of the horrified look on his face. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I can’t think of anything worse.”

  “Really? Not a single thing?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not a long and painful death? Marching off to war? Being rejected by your true love?”

  “Nope. Still not as bad.”

  I laughed. We kept walking, and I reached up to brush a tree with the tips of my fingers as we passed it. He kept his hands in his pockets.

  “Whatcha thinking about?” he asked at last.

  “I don’t know.” I held one arm behind my back and squinted ahead. “Things.”

  We kept walking.

  “What things?” he asked at last.

  “Things. What are you, the thought police?”

  We only walked a few more steps before I amended my answer. “I was just thinking... well... what did you think of October?”

  He looked straight ahead and tilted his head first to one side, then the other. “She was... different, you know?”

  “Yeah. Different.”

  After another few steps, I asked, “What do you think was different about her?”

  “I don’t know. She... looks different. The way she dresses, I guess.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know her any better than you do. Hey... why are you so obsessed with her?”

  I turned away and looked at the trees as we passed. “I don’t know. She’s different, like you said. And anyway, I’m not obsessed.”

  Jax grinned. I made a face, and reached up to pull a few leaves down from a branch above me. Even this far into spring I was still relishing the green that had returned after a long winter. I liked spring and summer. I didn’t like when the trees were all dead, with empty arms stretching every which way as if looking for something and never finding it.

  The sun dipped below the horizon until it disappeared, leaving a pinkish glow over the woods.

  Jax pulled on my sleeve. “Hey Em, we’d better get back, you think?”

  “Just a few more minutes?” I begged.

  Jax always was easy to win over. He agreed.

  It only took a moment for us to reach the end of the trees, where we found ourselves staring at Jax’s farm. The cows were still out, grazing, tails swishing flies away mundanely against the romance of the glorious sunset behind them.

  “Let’s go back, Em.” Jax poked my arm with one finger. “I didn’t bring a flashlight.”

  “Okay.” I let him grip my arm and turn me around, then give my back a little shove down the path we’d come by.

  A few yards in, I heard a rustle in the trees. I stopped.

  Jax kept walking. “Jax!” I hissed.

  He stopped, looked to both sides, then back at me. “I thought...”

  “Hush. Listen.”

  He stood still and cocked his ear towards the trees. I kept listening, then I heard the rustle again. “You hear that?”

  “Yeah.” He scurried to my side. “Probably an animal. Come on, let’s get you home.” He put a hand on my shoulder.

  I pulled away. “It doesn’t sound like an animal.” I cupped my hands over my mouth and hollered, “Hello?”

  “Em!” Jax clamped an arm around my shoulders and tried to steer me away, but I resisted.

  “I think it’s a person, Jax.”

  “All the more reason to leave it alone and get out of here. Come on.”

  “But...” Before I could finish my protest, the trees parted and a form came stumbling out onto the path.

  Jax jumped between me and the person. I stared.

  October Blake stood before us, shaking the leaves out of her clothes and laughing. She stopped laughing when she saw us, but kept on smiling. “Hello.”

  Her hair was in two long braids down her back now, and her clothes were different but still notably distinct. A green blouse, a brown skirt that reached halfway down her shins, and brown, lace-up boots. Her pale face caught the pink afterglow of the vanishing sun, which turned her hair almost magenta.

  “I’m sorry... I... just meant to take a walk, like I do at home. But I’m not used to this place... and I got a bit lost.”

  “You’re trying to get back to the Rivers’?” Jax asked.

  She bobbed her head once. “They’ll be wondering where I am... I forgot to bring my cell phone.”

  Associating a cell phone with October seemed wrong—out of place.

  “We’ll help you,” I spoke up.

  Jax agreed. “It’s late... I mean, it’ll be dark soon, but we can get you back to Em’s and then drive you home.”

  She smiled, a full, grateful smile, making me feel I’d gladly do ten times as much to keep it there. “Thank you! I’d really appreciate it.”

  “‘Course.” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’ll lead the way. Uh, you girls can follow and talk about whatever it is girls talk about.”

  I rolled my eyes and October laughed, showing her teeth in a wide smile, crystal green eyes sparkling. “What do girls talk about, anyway... remind me of your name again? I’m sorry, I’m not good with names.”

  We fell into step behind Jax. “Emily. And I don’t know. Makeup and shopping and boys, I suppose.”

  “I don’t care for shopping. Makeup is boring to talk about.” She seemed different here than she had been at church—more relaxed, as if the woods were really her home, and now that she was among the trees she was in her element. But her voice still had a grace and refinement to it, even when saying the word “boring.” “Boys now, boys are rather fun to talk about, I suppose. Though I’m not sure exactly what we would say about them.”

  “Me neither.”

  I thought I could see Jax’s neck turning pink below his one-eighth-inch hair.

  “Well we must talk about something.” She frowned in thought, her dark red eyebrows furrowing over her eyes. She wasn’t looking at me now, so I took the opportunity to stare for a moment. Her eyes showed the workings of her mind, like windows through which I could see the thoughts whirring inside.

  She turned to me after a moment, and I dropped my gaze to the growing tree shadows on the ground. “I don’t know,” I said. “We don’t have to talk. We could just... walk. And look at the trees.”

  “I love trees,” she said. That was all, and we fell into silence.

  I kept stealing glances at her, watching the way she walked, the way her eyes expressed her mood. She carri
ed herself so differently from any other girl in Pleasanton—like a duchess, or even a queen, standing straight and tall, seeming slim, though with her right beside me I realized her weight was quite average. Her braids fell more than halfway down her back, tied with green ribbons that matched her shirt perfectly.

  I hadn’t seen a girl tie her hair with ribbons since I was nine years old. Again, I got the sense that October did not belong here. She was a bright jewel in a setting of dark bronze rather than just another person. Something out of a book; something that didn’t belong in this century at all, let alone in a sleepy farming town.

  I looked away towards the last bits of sunlight that stretched beyond us and past them to the darkening eastern horizon. Mom was right—I didn’t know anything about this girl. Being beautiful and dressing like she was either royalty or from a time past told me no more than the fact that she knew the hymns by heart. I knew nothing of her, of what lay beneath. I didn’t even know why she was here.

  Not yet, at least.

  We didn’t speak anymore until we came to the Millers’ truck, which was still parked in our driveway. “I’ll get the keys,” Jax said, then dashed off into the house.

  October and I stood outside, waiting.

  “This is very kind,” she said.

  I shrugged. “We’re here to help.”

  I saw her gaze dart down to my dragon necklace. “What’s that?” she asked, nodding her head towards it.

  Jax burst out the door with the keys and clicked the button on them to unlock the truck. I reached forward and opened the back door.

  “My dragon necklace. Daddy found the charm on the clearance aisle when Mom sent him to the craft store to get glue, and he brought it home. I put it on a chain.”

  I held the door for her, but she made no move to get in. After a moment, I slid in to the seat on the opposite side. She followed, and Jax closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “You like dragons?” she asked.

  “I like books about them.”

  “I think she thinks you like real ones, Em,” Jax called from the front. He backed the car out of the driveway as the last bits of sunlight slipped away.

  October chuckled, and I made a face at him.

 

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