The Deepening Shade

by Jake Hinkson

  “I do too,” I told him.

  That night, laying on the floor, I thought all about me and Ezra. I thought about being a preacher’s wife. Margie said I wasn’t married yet because I was too stubborn to let a man have me. I’d had my share of callers but Ezra, even though he was a boy, moved me more than the rest of them did. I thought about a lot of things that night and it got late—so late the grasshoppers outside were roaring at each other in their heat—and I thought about Ezra as a man. I was curled up against the wall, and I felt my breath on my face and imagined it was his, and I wanted to be with him right there.

  And then I knew how evil I was. I knew that Ezra didn’t want that and that he wanted us to glorify the Lord, and here I was thinking about wickedness. I crept up and past Margie snoring in the corner. I unlatched the door, closing it behind me and stood in the front yard. I looked up at the distant sky all dark blue around the moon and thought of my Jesus looking down on me, giving me the strength to hold on, promising me a good husband and children and a lifetime of service for His kingdom if I could just hold on. That sky was beautiful.

  I looked down. The dirt was cool on my feet. Inching my toes down into it, I smiled at it.

  ***

  “A man of God has got to stay clean before the Lord,” Ezra would tell me with his blue eyes all sad and sweet at the same time.

  “You are clean,” I’d tell him, “and I want to be clean for you. I love you so much, and I want to be clean for you.”

  We had a hard time with that, and he prayed for us, and I told him I prayed for us, too, but I guess I lied about that. I tried to pray for us, but that’d only get me thinking about Ezra and me, and I’d think sinful thoughts right there in the middle of praying. I don’t know where the evil come from to make me do that. I don’t know if it was just me or if it was that natural evil that goes back to the Garden.

  Ezra prayed for us, but I wasn’t strong enough. I’ve thought a lot about it in sixty years, but I still ain’t sure why I let it happen. One day we laid a blanket down out in the woods and it was like Ezra kissed me for the first time. We’d been holding and hugging and pecking before that, but that day he kissed me real and deep, and my old dark heart slowed down, like a water pump. I lost my breath and lay on my back and pulled him to me.

  Even this afternoon, sitting in my chair with my hands folded on my Bible, I can feel his skin and muscles and smell the pine trees and the strawberries. The air was so thick it was like a damp sheet on our bodies. My ancient skin, eighty-five years old, still quivers a little at the thought. But, of course, the shame always comes with it, too.

  ***

  I cried that first time because it hurt me. But Ezra cried, too, because he felt so bad about it. He stood up and stuck his hands in his pockets and looked through the leaves at the sky and prayed aloud for us while I cried and prayed and bled.

  “Oh Mighty God, forgive us,” he prayed. “Forgive me for this evil deed and for my damnable weakness.” He squeezed his eyes shut and raised his hands and cried, “God damn this evil deed that we done! Purge us of this evil desire! Forgive us, we beg You, Jesus! We know You are an angry, vengeful God! Please! Please, dearest Jesus, forgive this woman for what she has done and purge her of these evil charms and purge me of my damnable weakness!” He was like that for a long time, standing on the blanket and yelling at the empty blue sky, while I lay by his feet and sobbed.

  Laying on the floor that night, I prayed for forgiveness for what me and Ezra had done. I was hoping that Jesus was forgiving me for it as I prayed, but I wasn’t sure, so I promised Him that I wouldn’t do it again.

  Ezra come to see me the next day, and Margie asked him to stay for lunch.

  “No thank you,” he said sticking his hands in his pockets. “I thought me and Clara might take a walk.”

  Margie smiled at me and said, “Why don’t y’all take some biscuits with you? I’m gonna skin them rabbits the boys shot, and if y’all get back in time y’all can have some.”

  “Okay,” I said, slipping on my shoes.

  We walked down to the road and went across it to Mr. Anderson’s field. We hadn’t said nothing by the time we slipped through the barbwire and started across the field.

  “Ezra,” I said finally, “you mad at me?”

  He was quiet and there was no sound but the dry grass crunching beneath our shoes. It was windy that day, so I took a piece of yarn out of the pocket of my skirt and tied my long brown hair back into a ponytail. When we reached the trees he said, “What we done was evil, Clara. We knowed better than to do what we done. We both have the Spirit to hold us back, and He done His job, but it’s me and you that sinned.” Ezra’s thick black hair was whipping around his head like a storm cloud and his face was pink.

  I started to cry. We walked through the woods and after a little ways, the ground sloped down into a clearing of stumps, muddy tracks and some tore-up ground leading off onto a trail.

  I sat down on the slope, and Ezra walked down into the clearing and looked around.

  “This is where Mr. Anderson’s new house is gonna be I reckon,” Ezra said, not looking at me when he said it. “Must be nice to own land yourself.”

  I cried harder and I couldn’t see nothing but the blurry ground, but I heard twigs snap and leaves crinkle, and Ezra put his arm around my shoulder. His hip was pressed next to mine.

  “I still love you,” he said.

  “I’m dirty to you,” I cried into my hands. “You ain’t gonna want nothing to do with me.”

  “Did you pray through last night?” he asked. His voice was soft like he was kneeling at the altar with a sinner, trying to lead them to Jesus.

  “Yes, I prayed all night.” It wasn’t strictly true, but I had prayed a lot.

  “So did I,” he said, “and He’s faithful and just to forgive us, Clara.”

  I looked up at his smile and hugged his neck. “I wanted to be pure for you, and I know you wanted me to be pure.”

  He put his arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him and kissed me. His eyes were closed hard, and he tried to gently lower me on the ground.

  I pulled away a little. “Ezra, what are you doing?”

  His smooth face was empty and he kissed my cheek. “Nothing,” he said. “I love you. I want to kiss you is all.”

  I wanted to ask if that was all right, but I didn’t. I nodded and said, “I want to kiss you, too.”

  But that wasn’t all and after we lay down and kissed for a long time, he unbuttoned my blouse and lifted my skirt. When we were finished, he stood in the scarred clearing and prayed aloud again, begging forgiveness and screaming at the sky.

  ***

  After that, I’d make him stay at Margie’s with me, and we’d sit there and talk about the crop we’d brought in or about church.

  Sometimes though, Ezra would get me out to the woods on a walk, or even, once, on the way home from church and we’d lay in the leaves and make love and then, most of the times, I’d cry and he’d pray. Sometimes when he prayed, he’d pray so hard that he’d weep himself.

  Then, not too long after we had the crop in, I realized that I was pregnant. Margie had told me all about it when I had my first lady’s time, and when I started missing, I knew what I’d done. I ran out to the bare strawberry fields and wailed like I was gone mad. I kicked the dirt and ripped one of the wooden row markers out of the ground and flung it as hard as I could. Cursing my body for its wickedness, I fell to the ground.

  Then Margie was beside me.

  I looked up at her, and she seemed to fill the sky. Her back was to the sun, and its light spread out behind her, darkening her face. Strands of her hair whipped at her rough cheeks as she said, “You’re gonna have a child, ain’t you?”

  I looked at the dirt.

  “Stop crying, girl. Does Ezra know?”

  I shook my head.

  “Then you need to get up and go tell him. Come on, stand up.”

  I climbed up and looked at her. I re
alized that I was a little taller than she was. Her thick jaw jerked from side to side as she ground her gums together and wrinkles spread out from her chin like spider webs.

  “You’re mad at me,” I said.

  “I’m ashamed of you. I never wanted no girl because I always knowed I’d do a poor job raising one. You knowed better than to do this to yourself. Men ain’t got the same good sense as a woman. That’s all you got on a man in this world. They’re bigger and stronger and they run things, but the last man with any kind of good sense was Jesus Christ Hisself.”

  “I done lost that, I reckon.”

  “Get it back then. The Lord didn’t hang on that cross for nothing. You got the free will He give us all, and you got to throw yourself on Him, cause only He’s going to see you through. You do that on your way to tell that boy you’re gonna have his child. You throw yourself back to Jesus.”

  I wiped my face and leaned over. I put my arms around her, but she stood there like she was made of rock.

  When I let go of her, she nodded toward the road. “You best go tell Ezra what y’all done to yourselves.”

  ***

  I found him behind the church, where the woods came up to the edge of the yard and the children had their Sunday School. He was chopping down a tree, and there was already a pile of wood in a big square wheelbarrow beside him.

  “Howdy, Ezra,” I said behind him.

  He turned and smiled at me. “Hey there, Clara, what are you doing?”

  “Just coming to see you.”

  He sunk the ax into the tree and left it stuck there while he told me, “I’m chopping wood for the pastor. He says it’s gonna be snow early this year on account of the leaves turning so quick. That new stove we got for the church can hold more wood than I ever seen…” He stopped and looked at me, and said, “What’s wrong, Clara?”

  “I’m gonna have your child,” I said.

  He didn’t do nothing. He just stood there without even his face changing. Just looked at me like he was still waiting for an answer to his question.

  It was getting cold, but he was sweating from his work. He reached up and ran his thumbnail across his eyebrows, and sweat dripped off his hand.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  His Adam’s apple jerked out from his throat like he was swallowing something big, and he looked down at his hands. I watched him and thought how his hands was just skin and muscle and bone like ever one else’s.

  Spinning around, he jerked the ax out of the tree and then slammed it back and the tree shook and scarlet leaves sparkled down on him like fire from the sky. He flung the ax head at the tree again, but he was too mad and he missed it and snapped the handle in two. Throwing the handle away, he started beating the tree with his hands till he was out of breath and his fists was red.

  “What are you gonna do?” I whispered, moving behind the wheelbarrow.

  He leaned against the scarred up tree and said, “I’m gonna marry you.”

  ***

  We got married a week later and got a little place joining onto Margie’s. We all made a deal with Mr. Anderson that we’d work both tracts with Margie’s family, but he’d pay us like we was each working our own land separate.

  Since our house was close to the water, it was built off the ground and had a wide, railless front porch. Margie had never wanted that house, even though it was a bit better, because she said that when the floods came it wouldn’t matter that the house was a few feet off the ground because it would flood anyhow. Still though, I was happy about getting a place for me and Ezra.

  Something bad fell over him after we got married, though. He didn’t touch me much. I reckoned I didn’t attract him on account of being pregnant, but he didn’t even kiss me good night nor hold my hand in church.

  He didn’t speak in church no more after we got married, neither. There was about thirty of us in the congregation, and we’d sing, and the preacher would ask someone to testify, and where once old Ezra would have shot up and preached, now he just sat there looking down at his hands, mumbling a prayer.

  He’d sit out on our porch in the morning and read his Bible and pray. One morning, because he was praying so loud, I woke up. Laying there I listened:

  “Oh God, I’m Your servant. Forgive me. Forgive me. Burn this flesh away till there is only a soul. Only a soul that longs for You.”

  I laid there and closed my eyes and shut his voice out. Rubbing my stomach I smiled because I could feel the little body inside me, pressing against my flesh and breathing the fluids in my body. My back ached something terrible, but the pain was warm and the ache in my swelled breasts made me cup them gently and imagine the child in me feeding from them one day.

  Outside Ezra moaned louder:

  “Please, please, please. Burn away this evil flesh. Hurry that day when it is no more and there is only a soul. Only a soul in love with You.”

  ***

  The creek lowered and froze up not long after that, and we had to break through the ice with hammers and haul the water up to the house in buckets. It’d freeze up overnight, and the next morning we’d have to break it up again.

  One morning, Ezra woke me up. He was standing there nudging the bed with his foot. “Hey. Hey, Clara.”

  “Yeah,” I said, opening my eyes as the bed shook.

  “C’mon and get your clothes on and help me get some water.”

  I got up and slipped on a thick coat and some wool leg warmers Margie made me. I pulled on my boots, and we walked outside. The sun was just a white smear in a sky that was just a bigger gray smear, and I was freezing the second we got out there. Ezra got the hammer and handed me one of the buckets, and we started for the creek. The ground was froze hard and it felt like we was walking on iron.

  “I’m gonna go get us some wood before breakfast,” he said.

  “We got some of them eggs left, and I’ll mix you biscuits to take with you if you want.”

  “I’ll eat em when I get back,” he said. “I ain’t got time to wait for em.”

  The tree limbs along the way was stripped bare and a sharp wind blew through them and seemed to peel your skin off. I was shuddering by the time we got down to the muddy creek, which was froze so hard you could mistake it for rock. A few dead weeds around the bank stuck out of the brown ice like hairs on a man’s chin. Ezra leaned down at the bank and took a couple of hard whacks at the ice.

  “Son of a bitch,” he cussed.

  I never heard him cuss before. I couldn’t believe he said that, but I didn’t want to say nothing about it. I asked, “Is it harder than yesterday?”

  “What do you think?” He hit it again a couple of times and cussed again. “Damn water,” he said and threw the hammer at it. “Damn water,” he yelled stomping on the ice. He tried for the hammer but slipped on the ice and come down heavy on his knee. He grabbed the hammer and scrambled to the bank. He let out a scream like I never heard come out of any man before or since. He beat the ice and sharp chips of it flew up. “Damn this ice,” he yelled. “Damn this world!” Standing up, he struck himself in the same leg he fell on and he grunted curses at his own body.

  “Ezra,” I yelled.

  I grabbed his arm, and he shoved me to the ground. I fell on my side and he come toward me. I covered my stomach. “Damn that wicked flesh,” he grunted. “That filthy growth ruint me.”

  “Please, Jesus,” I prayed. “Please, Jesus. I call on Your holy name, Jesus.”

  I wasn’t crying. My head was down, and my eyes were closed and when I looked up, he was gone. I climbed up and rubbed my stomach.

  I started back home. He hates my flesh and his own, but he still loves me, I told myself. He just hates our evil old flesh. It was only calling on the name of Jesus that stopped Ezra from hurting me.

  The thought come to me that the Spirit had stopped the flesh.

  I got to the house and went inside. Ezra was gone to cut the wood, and I sat down on our bed. I knew I needed to get up and fix him
some breakfast, but I got to thinking about how I was eating more than before, feeding my growth.

  I’ve thought a lot about what was going through my head that morning. I was crazy with fear and sadness. I told myself how I wouldn’t have to eat so much and how I could work more, but none of that was really why.

  I loved my body. I loved the ways it was changing and the little legs and arms stretching in my belly. I loved everything good and bad about it. And, I figured, that was my sin. It was ruining Ezra and it was ruining me. We both wanted to be closer to God, and my evil old body was a ugly thing sitting in our path.

  I walked outside and the air stung my face. The fields were gray with a hard solid frost. I looked down from the porch at the iron ground. I didn’t cry. Looking up at the gray sky I took a deep breath, spread my arms, and fell forward.

  Falling, the ground flying up at me, I knew in a instant that it was wrong. But the ground crashed into me like a train, and my nose shattered and my arm snapped back. My stomach felt like a crushed grape. Warm blood spilled onto the frozen ground, and I wept.

  ***

  He put me in bed and ran and brought the doctor, and the doctor told him the baby was dead. After the doctor and his nurse had operated on me, cleaned up and gone, I lay on the bed with my face to the wall.

  “Clara,” he said.

  “Clara,” he said again, even softer. He sat down on the bed, but he didn’t touch me.

  I could feel where the little body had been, and I was still crying, holding my stomach.

  “Clara, he’s with Jesus now.”

  “It was a boy?”

  “Yes.”

  That made me cry a little. I told him, “I wish I was dead, too, so I could be with him. So I could be with my little baby and not with you.”

  I was looking at the plank in the wall. He didn’t say nothing for a long time and then all he said was my name.

  I told him, “I hate you. I hate you and I’m gonna hate you all my life. The only feelings I got left in this world is my love for that baby and my hate for you.”

  He sat there for a long time and then the mattress shook as he got up. He blew out the lamp and left. It was dark in the room cause the sun hadn’t come out in days and the moon hadn’t risen yet.