Inexplicably, Wash began to smile, and his smile frightened her. She knew how fast charm could turn cruel. She knew that men could take and take and leave the people who loved them wrecked or dead.
Naomi opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought of her mother’s sad eyes and faded beauty. She thought of Henry’s hand on hers in the pink bathroom.
“Come on, what’s bothering you? We’re friends; you can tell me,” he said.
Friends. Fury flared up in her again. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been there by your house, but I was, I was...” Naomi cast about for a plausible explanation. “I was looking for the twins, and what do I see?” She lowered her voice so that the twins would not hear her. “I see you laughing and joking on the stairs of your own house with some pretty girl in a blue dress, her holding your arm like she owned it. I saw you, Wash Fuller.” The words came in an angry rush. It was more than she’d said to him in weeks, maybe ever.
Wash began laughing and didn’t stop. The twins came running, not wanting to be left out of the joke. Naomi felt rage like she had never known before.
“Y’all do me a favor,” he said when he had collected himself. “Go on and tell your sister a bit about Miss Fannie.”
“She’s the best piano player in Egypt Town, but she doesn’t have a piano at home,” Beto said.
Naomi shot Wash a look. It seemed to her that he was digging a deeper hole, but he just nodded. “What else is important about her? How come you think I’d help her down the stairs and walk her home?”
“She’s blind!” the twins shouted together.
“See?” Wash was laughing again. “You see what you saw?” The twins laughed, too, without knowing why. Naomi just stared, checking these revelations against her own sense of things.
She eyed him skeptically and tried to recall exactly what she had seen. The girl could have been blind and his sweetheart; after all, she was pretty. But when she thought back to the hand on Wash’s arm, it seemed to her that there had been a deliberateness that was not really romantic.
Relief flooded her. She uncrossed her arms slowly, trying on this new knowledge, testing it against her sense of things.
Wash fished two dimes out of his pocket and handed them to the twins. “Go buy some candy from Mr. Mason. And a soda, too. Cari, you share it all even, you hear me? I don’t care what kind of devil deal y’all made when Beto named y’all’s cat.”
“Deal’s a deal,” she said, all mischief.
“Should I give him both dimes?”
“All right, all right, I’ll share. Come on, Beto.” She took off down the path and Beto ran after.
“Hey!” Wash called. “Save a piece of licorice for me! Keep it for tomorrow.”
When the twins were out of sight, Wash turned, beaming, to Naomi. “You sure were worked up at the idea of Fannie being my girl.”
She felt her face redden as the last of her anger evaporated. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ... I just thought ... And then—” She hesitated, uncertain what to say now.
She looked around. The sky was a gift of blue behind the delicate branches of the cottonwoods. The sun played across the surface of the river, and the breeze carried the scent of leaves and pine needles. Wash raised his eyebrows and smiled. Even in the cold, she felt all the warmth she’d fought for alone in her tree. Now, though, it was something she could give back to him.
Naomi closed her eyes and let happiness roll through her. Here they were, back together by the river. And the twins were safe—safer under Wash’s watchful eye than they ever were in Henry’s house. She felt foolish and ashamed of her panic, of wanting to tear them away from him. But that was only the beginning of what she felt.
She opened her eyes and looked at Wash. “Follow me.”
WASH & NAOMI She was there, and then she wasn’t.
Wash walked slowly, listening for her, trying to figure out where she’d gone. The only sounds were the rustling of the leaves and the cawing of a crow high up in one of the trees.
“Over here.” It was Naomi’s voice coming from near a pair of oaks, but he didn’t see her.
He skirted a fallen tree and stared at the trees. At first, he didn’t see anything remarkable. And then he did.
The opening in the tree wasn’t small, but it was screened on one side by a mess of brambles and on the other side by the second oak. A perfect hiding place.
He squatted and pulled himself inside. His eyes fell on the smooth curves of her calves, and he wanted to reach his hands out and follow those curves up, up. Instead, he pressed himself back into the opposite side of the hollow and stood.
“So this is where you vanish to,” he said.
Naomi didn’t answer. She blinked. He was still there. Wash was inside the tree with her.
The inches of air between them turned electric. She lifted her hand into a shaft of light that illuminated Wash’s face, then she laid it on his cheek. Only a few shades separated their skin color. It wasn’t far to travel, not here.
“So, Washington Fuller?” she asked.
He could feel her warm, sweet breath. His mouth opened, but he couldn’t find any words. He laughed a little, rubbed his chin. He reached up and took her hand in his, the interlacing of their fingers so right, so overdue. He tried to pretend that he wasn’t thinking about falling against her, falling into what he had wanted and tried to forget that he wanted, this hunger that was different from other hungers before. He wanted the feel of her hips, her mouth, the sweet hollow of her neck. His muscles tightened with the effort of not taking her braid in his hand. Of not working his way down the row of buttons on her dress. Of not touching her everywhere.
“I want—” he managed.
“Me, too.” She took a small step toward him and placed his hand on her waist. She slid her arms inside his jacket and pressed herself to him. His shirt buttons were cold against her cheek, but she could feel the fierce beating of his heart and the warmth of his skin. She moved her hands up his stomach and chest and over his shoulders. She pushed off his jacket. She took his arm and traced a vein from his wrist to his elbow and slid a finger under his rolled-up shirtsleeve.
His breath caught in his throat when she looked up at him. Her eyes were bright and more beautiful than he could bear. Full of the light that had drawn him from the start.
Naomi felt her shyness split. She climbed out of her self.
Wash witnessed this blooming. Color rose in her cheeks. Her fingers did not hesitate. Nor her lips. It was nothing like the awkward necking with girls from Egypt Town. It was something else entirely.
“Who are you?” he asked.
NAOMI For Naomi, everything had changed in the woods. At home, though, there was still the matter of the handgun. Naomi did not like it, but it turned out that even Muff’s husband, Bud, had one. When Naomi asked, Muff had said that carrying a revolver was usual for the oil field, or had been. “You can’t imagine how rough some of these places used to be before the women came along,” she said. So Naomi put the gun in the same category that held Henry’s Bible: things he owned but didn’t use anymore.
During the week after she brought Wash to her tree, Naomi alternated between two worries. The first worry was that she had dreamed the whole thing. When she saw him, she wondered if his warmth to her was any different from what he offered the twins. The second worry was that the kisses had been real but that she had frightened him away. Girls weren’t supposed to want any of that. And if they did, they certainly weren’t supposed to show it. Maybe the PTA mothers in the bathroom had seen something in her she hadn’t known was there.
She thought about Wash all the time. In class, at home, and—when she could manage it—inside the tree. She watched the twins run toward him after school. She wanted him for herself but did not want to take him away from them. She listened. And dreamed.
◊ ◊ ◊
One afternoon, she walked out of the school alone and saw him packing up his tools under one of the naked trees in front of the superint
endent’s house. The air was heavy with cold. The sky was gray, and Wash’s smile was the brightest thing in sight.
Naomi couldn’t say anything when she walked past; they didn’t have the twins as a buffer or an excuse. Still, she thought that Wash started putting his things away faster when he saw her. She thought maybe he gave her a tiny nod.
She ran to the tree and listened for his footsteps on the path. They didn’t come, not at first. And then, when she was chilled to the bone and about to give up, she heard him coming. A second later, he ducked into the tree. He was out of breath, and his forehead glistened.
“Came ... fast...as I could,” he said, breathing hard. Naomi leaned close. He smelled of wood, and sawdust clung to his neck. She reached up to wipe it away.
He wrapped his arms around her. She thought she might cry with the rightness of it.
“The twins?” he whispered. His face was pressed into her hair; his words tickled her scalp.
“Still at school, busy,” she said.
“I’m glad you were here.”
“I’m glad you found me.”
That was the end of their talking. The rest was touch. And once Wash caught his breath, the rhythm was slow, slow, slow. That is, until Naomi changed it.
NAOMI When school let out for the winter break, Naomi asked Henry if they could go to San Antonio for a few days. He refused. He couldn’t take the time from work, he said, and anyway they were a family and would have Christmas together. Here, in their home.
The thought of San Antonio stabbed at her. She’d written a letter to Abuelito and Abuelita and had sent along three of the dollars she’d saved with the idea that it was best to give practical help. But now she wished she’d sent them something special.
On Christmas Eve, Henry took them to Kilgore to see the lights. It was only late afternoon, but the day was gloomy and already the cars all had on their headlights. Naomi and the twins huddled with their hands under the dash to get closer to the heat.
“This cold!” Henry said. “And when are we going to see the sun again? How long has it been?”
“Seventeen days and six hours,” Beto answered softly.
“I didn’t know you were keeping count,” Henry said. He chuckled and gave Beto a playful shove. “Book learnin’.”
On the downtown streets of Kilgore, people milled about on the narrow sidewalks, looking at shop displays and admiring the strands of lights that decorated the businesses. There were illuminated stars on the tops of some of the oldest oil derricks, and across Main Street, spotlights shown on poinsettias placed on risers to spell “Merry Xmas!”
Cari wiped the condensation from the side window and stared out.
“Look,” Beto said. He pointed to a large family, all of them with the same blond hair. Everyone wore a shirt or dress made from the same fabric, and they had matching Santa hats.
“How come we can’t go see some of your family, Daddy?” Cari asked, her eyes still on the group.
Henry’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. A heavy silence billowed through the car.
Naomi’s heart pounded. “Cari,” she whispered, gripping her sister’s arm, “you know better than to pry.” She tried to think of what she could say to draw off some of Henry’s anger.
After a long moment, Henry exhaled. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s just a question.” He turned his face to Cari. “You kids are all the family I’ve got. Everyone else is gone.” He reached out and ruffled her curls.
◊ ◊ ◊
They ate Christmas dinner at Muff and Bud’s. Besides their kids, some of Muff’s family had driven up from the Beaumont oil field. As soon as the pie was finished, Henry cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I hate to say it, but we have to get going. I need to check on a rig, and I reckon the kids’ll want to open their presents before that.”
“Oh, you’re kidding!” Muff said. Her face was still flushed from all of the cooking. “Work today? You’ve got to tell Graham Salter there’s a limit!”
Henry shrugged. “I drew one of the short straws,” he said. He pushed back from the table. “At least I get double pay.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Naomi and the twins waited in the living room while Henry changed into his work clothes. Like always, she chose the uncomfortable cane-back chair to make sure Henry could not end up next to her on the couch. The twins sat in front of the small tree they had decorated with popcorn and homemade ornaments. Underneath it were seven gifts, six of which Naomi had wrapped herself—two presents for Cari, two presents for Beto, and two presents for Henry. She figured the last one was for her from the twins.
“All right,” Henry said, settling into the couch with a sigh. “Who first?”
“You, Daddy!” Beto said. He rushed a package over to Henry. The twins pressed in close as he tore away the wrapping.
“Huh,” he said when he saw the small cigarette case that they had insisted on purchasing despite Naomi’s protests. He studied the shiny surface and clicked the case open. “But I don’t smoke.”
“We think it’d be a good idea for you to start,” Cari said. Maybe they thought it would improve his mood. There had been a sign behind the department store counter: “For digestion’s sake, smoke daily!”
From the pocket of her dress, Cari produced a box of Camels.
“Cari!” Naomi said. “Where did you get those?”
Cari ignored her and filled Henry’s cigarette case.
“I’ll get you a light,” Beto said. He came back with a saucer and the matches that Naomi kept by the stove. He set the saucer on the sofa beside Henry. “For the ashes,” he said.
Henry lit one of the Camels and made a show of smoking for a few minutes. He exhaled with his lips tight and pulled down.
“Thank you,” he said as he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette. “Next?”
Naomi pointed out another gift and told Beto to give it to Henry.
“Who’s this from?” he asked.
“Me,” Naomi said. She did not wish him a merry Christmas.
“Very nice,” he said after he unwrapped the heavy gray socks she’d knitted in home economics. “Good to have something warm in the boots with all this cold weather.”
“Now we have a present for you,” Cari said to Naomi. She gave her the one package she hadn’t recognized.
Naomi pulled open the paper to reveal a small wooden box pasted over with flowers and pictures cut out from catalogs.
“It’s a jewelry box,” Beto said.
Naomi held it up and smiled. “It’s perfect,” she said, not caring that she had no jewelry to put inside it. She pulled the twins in for a hug. “Thank you.”
Then Henry squatted and reached under the tree for the gifts he’d gotten for the twins and given to Naomi to wrap. He also dropped something into her lap. The thick rectangle was covered in grocer’s paper and tied with string.
“Didn’t seem right to ask you to wrap your own gift,” he said. He tugged on his neck and waited.
“Naomi first,” Cari said. “We want to save ours for last.”
Naomi pulled on the string and opened the paper to find a folded length of yellow fabric with a tiny pattern of white flowers.
“There’s enough to make yourself a nice dress. I checked with the lady at the fabric counter. And Mrs. Wright said you could use her machine,” Henry said.
Naomi spread the cloth out and stroked it lightly. “Very thoughtful.” She did not say what she was thinking, which was that they’d buried her mother in a yellow dress.
“Good,” Henry said. Naomi could see he was proud of himself. “All right, kids. Open your gifts. I’ve got to get going.” Henry clapped his hands together. Maybe he meant to show excitement, but it looked more like impatience. Hurry up and be grateful.
The twins thanked Henry after they opened their gifts, a doll and a fire truck. They still had Naomi’s presents to open, but already Henry was pulling on his coat. “Boss man and all,” he said. “Won’t
be home till y’all are asleep. Naomi, make sure to shut off the heaters before you go to bed. You can’t be too careful.”
◊ ◊ ◊
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Cari asked Naomi when Henry had left. She poked at the doll’s platinum hair.
“Look.” Naomi tilted the doll back so that it closed its eyes, then tipped it forward again. The eyelids with their stiff blond lashes bobbed up and down over the staring blue eyes. The weight of the doll in her hands brought memory rising up in Naomi.
◊ ◊ ◊
Henry had given Naomi a doll just three weeks after he started coming to Abuelito’s house to take her mother dancing. She remembered how he had grinned and squatted down to watch her open it. How he had balanced his hat on his knee.
Estella had stood behind him, her fingers resting lightly on his shoulders. Even then, Naomi felt that an exchange of some kind was taking place. She could not be sure what she was giving up. But once she untied the thick ribbon holding the wrapping paper in place, she knew exactly what she was getting.
The doll had dark ringlets, milky porcelain skin, and pink lips parted over painted white teeth. She wore a plaid jumper, and Naomi loved her instantly, with all of her five-year-old heart. She named the doll Nana before she even found her way to gracias. And she knew that Nana would get to do the things that she—brown and tongue-tied and full of the wrong kinds of words—could not.
“Naomi, guess what?” Her mother smiled at her after she had said her thank you. “Henry’s going to be your new daddy. ¿Te gustaría, verdad que sí?”
And then Naomi knew that the trade was finished, and she could not go back.
◊ ◊ ◊
“Don’t be ungrateful,” Naomi said. “Lots of girls your age would love to have a doll like this.”
Out of Darkness Page 14
