‘What about Sunday school?’ Katie asks, smiling and waving to Kristen Maylor across the church. ‘Aren’t we stayin’?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ Mom mutters. ‘I think it’s best we head on home.’
Uncle Jasper rises slowly. Stretches as he rises. Yawns.
Mom turns to him. ‘You got what you wanted here?’
He meets her gaze. ‘Not quite.’
They stand, eyes locked, unmoving.
‘I don’t reckon it’s wise to stay long.’ Her eyes dart around the church then search his. She folds her arms across her like she’s cold, but Joanne can see small beads of sweat running down the nape of her mother’s neck, leaving trails of moisture in their wake as they race beneath the collar of her dress.
He smiles. ‘We’re in God’s house now, Liz. I don’t aim to live free like I’m still locked in prison.’
‘I ain’t controlling you, Jasper. I ain’t your guard. But if you don’t want to walk home, I suggest you listen when I try to steer you clear of trouble.’
He looks at her a long moment. ‘There’s unfinished business here.’
‘There’s unfinished business everywhere, Jasper.’
He smiles then. Nods once. ‘Ain’t that the understatement of the day.’ Then he turns from them and starts up the aisle, heading towards the door, the congregation parting like a sea around him, opening to let him pass.
When he’s honest with himself, Jasper knows full well there are three reasons why he’d wanted to go to church. First off was the routine of it. It seems to him that coming home and going to church go hand in hand. It would feel wrong somehow not to go. He associates church with his mother. And he’d like to see her grave. Where she lies next to Daddy. He’d like to see his parents, and just sit by their graves awhile. He’d like to belong somewhere, like Mama and Daddy always belonged here. He’d thought, maybe, that God would have him, that the church might have opened its arms to him, but sitting on the hard pew, Jasper could not block out the whispers. Most of his life, Jasper has felt unwelcome. Like he doesn’t quite fit wherever he is. He had hoped that that could change.
Jasper had wanted to go to church for the freedom of it. He wanted to go because he could. Because no one could stop him. Because it was his choice freely made and because it was something as a free man that he could say he’d done. Something normal to do. He never would have guessed he’d spend so many hours in prison thinking on freedom like he had. Defining and redefining for himself all its contexts and possible meanings. Ten years is a long time to study a word’s definition. He would like to feel free again. It is hard sometimes to remember just what it means exactly. To be free.
The third reason Jasper wanted to go to church was to see her. He realizes that now. Not that he’d expected her to be there. Not really. But a part of him had hoped. And now, walking back up the aisle through the church towards its exit, he feels the anger boiling up inside him, rotting his insides. But he does not want to go home just yet. He does not want to run away, to give them reason to whisper louder. He aims to live and to live a normal life, God willing.
He’s nearly to the church door before he stops. Roy stands with a few other men just to the left of the exit. The church doors are open wide again, and the reverend and Regina both shake hands with all who pass, saying goodbye to those few not staying for Sunday school. He can’t remember the last time he saw so many women. So many bare ankles, slender calves going up, bare knees … It makes it hard to focus. Hard not to think of lifting up a woman’s skirt and ramming himself inside her. When was the last time he parted a woman’s thighs? He thinks of her again. That mole just below her pelvic bone. He shakes his head to clear it. Looks again to Roy.
There’d been a time, as boys, when they did not part company. Sat beside each other at elementary. Shared their lunches. Would walk out across the prairie that separated their homes and meet there in those wild fields to play cowboys and Indians or to throw a baseball back and forth. When they were older, they would walk across the prairie late at night, his daddy’s old Hungerford held tight in Jasper’s hands, like a torch before him, rabbit hunting, except there was no light coming from it, and most times there were no rabbits.
Roy’s mother was Polish. An escapee of some war or other, she’d grown up Texan, though had never fully lost her homeland’s accent, her voice an odd singsong combination of Warsaw mixed with country, her r s rolled in all the wrong places. That was how Roy had got his name. Named after his mother’s dead grandfather – some Polish farmer, last name Roychezki, he’d never met and whose image he had always been expected to uphold. ‘Roy!’ his mother had used to scold. ‘What is wrong with you? Your grandfather was Polish man, strong as bull. He lift car one hand, no problem. What is wrong with you? You weak like American. At least have strong Polish name.’ And she’d pinch his cheeks, and Roy, always a slender child, would try to puff his chest out and sit up a bit taller. Jasper had always liked Mrs Reynolds. She’d been good to him. He’d never had a reason to think on her unkindly.
Roy is no longer the boy Jasper remembers. He is not the young man he used to pal around with. Jasper can see that even from a distance. Roy has the same slender build he’s had his whole life; the years have not changed that. His shoulders curve up and in slightly, concaving his chest. He’s grown a beard that is trimmed short and tidy. A few bits of grey streak it, but there’s none on his head as yet. Jasper wonders how he must look to Roy. How much changed. He clears his throat. Approaches the other man.
‘I was startin’ to think you might not say hello.’
Roy turns slowly to him. No friendly spark of recognition lights his face. ‘I wasn’t plannin’ on it.’
Jasper nods. Looks down at his feet a moment before raising his eyes to the other man again. ‘I would have said hello to you, you know. If things was different ’n’ I was in your shoes ’n’ you in mine. I’d still say hello to you.’
Silence hangs between them. The type of pause where a man might spit tobacco, had they not been in church. Roy holds Jasper’s gaze, expressionless. ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ he says, ‘ ’cause I’d nevera done what you done.’ Roy takes a box of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. Taps the bottom of the pack against the palm of his hand. Takes a cigarette out and puts the box back in his pocket. ‘I heard you was out all righ’.’ He twirls the cigarette between his fingers. ‘Didn’ expect to see you in a place like this, though.’
‘I’m as free a man as any.’
‘Yeah … well …’
Behind Roy, Sarah bounces a baby on her hip. She glances over at them, and Jasper just manages to catch her gaze. Her forehead creases as she looks away. He never would have pictured them together, but he can see why Roy married Sarah. Not that she’s beautiful. In fact, far from it in Jasper’s eyes, but there’s a sort of maternal grace to her that appeals to him. Her breasts beneath her cotton dress are swollen plump with milk. The baby weight that still clings to her hips broadens her petite frame. He wonders if he sucked her tits he’d taste her milk. Wonders what it would be like. Imagines himself there sucking. ‘I’d heard you got married,’ he says at length, tilting his head towards Sarah.
‘That’s right.’
Jasper nods. ‘And that’s your boy?’
‘That’s right.’
Jasper nods again, surveying the church around them. The hushed voices kept low enough just to whisper past him. Makes him angry, all those whispers. Like he’s the main attraction and they’re all just waiting for him to start the show. ‘I saw Esther the other day,’ he says. ‘In town. I asked her after you.’
‘She told me.’
There’d never been awkwardness between him and Roy before. Not like this. Never anything like this. Jasper studies the scuff marks on his shoes. He’d hoped maybe they could be friends still. Even after Esther refusing him in the shop like that. He had imagined them out rabbit hunting just like they had so long ago. Jasper runs a hand through his hair, searches in
side himself for the words he’s after. There’s so much he’d like to say. ‘I’d thought maybe I’d hear from you.’ His words hang between them, rawer than he’d meant.
‘We ain’t friends no more.’
Jasper nods. Real slow. ‘We ain’t friends?’
‘You heard me.’ Roy’s voice is firm, hard. Cold.
Jasper smiles. No joy on his lips. ‘Right.’ He nods. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘your mama, she must be real proud hearing you talk in your man voice like that, layin’ down the law for me right there. Asserting yourself like that. Being a man in front of your woman here.’ His smile slips into a smirk. ‘Looks like you’re all grown-up, huh, Roy? Fuckin’ the girl next door, spreadin’ your seed. Well, I say, bullshit.’ His voice grows louder. ‘Bull. Shit. I see right through you. You’re still the same skinny brat that pisses his bed. The same coward you always been.’
‘Wanna test me?’ A coldness in Roy’s eyes Jasper does not recognize.
It stops him short, then Jasper laughs. ‘I’d test you anytime anywhere, no problem. But I ain’t here for that.’
‘Why are you here?’ The woman’s voice surprises him. He turns. It’s Sarah, baby still bouncing on her hip as she rocks him side to side.
‘Sarah, you stay out of this.’ Roy’s voice is low.
She looks at Jasper defiantly, no fear in her eyes. It’s been a great long while since a woman did not fear him. Since one looked at him with such fire. Her eyes make him uncomfortable. Make his heart beat twice as fast. Somewhere out on the prairie, chickadees call and fall silent, their voices overpowered as a mockingbird speaks crow. ‘Why are you here?’ she says again, voice unwavering.
Jasper’s face twists, more animal than human, then shifts back. ‘This is my home,’ he answers.
She shrugs Roy’s hand from her shoulder. ‘Well, this is our home, too, you bastard, ’n’ we don’ want you in it.’
Anger flushes her cheeks bright red in the heat of the room. It makes his blood quicken. He can just barely smell the soap off her skin. The milky scent of baby sick stuck to her. Lust burns at his groin, growing, and he wants to take her and taste her and suck on her swollen tits. He wants to feel if her flushed skin is hot. Not that she’s pretty. Not that he’s attracted to her. Just that it’s been so long since he touched a woman, and the cloth of her cotton dress against her moist skin stirs longings in him.
He’d forgotten Sarah and Rose had been friends. No wonder, he thinks, Roy hates me.
‘I think you’d best go.’ Roy’s voice is low and even. No messing in his tone. No room for messing either.
Jasper looks from Sarah back to Roy. He can tell the other man has seen his lust. The chatter of the church has died down some, a pool of quiet all around them as those close enough to hear have fallen silent. Most of the congregation have filed out of the church by now, some folks piling into their cars and pulling away, but most walk round the back of the church to where a handful of trailers propped up on cinder blocks house the Sunday school. The laughter of children drifts indoors as they chase each other across the lawn. Jasper used to run like that, not so long, so very long ago. Seems another life to him standing there now, facing the hostility in his once best friend’s eyes.
‘You’re not welcome here.’ Roy’s voice is firm.
‘Last I heard, this is God’s house. Not yours.’
‘I’m just sayin’ what everyone here’s thinkin’.’
‘Well, bravo.’ Jasper claps his hands together twice. ‘Looks like you grew a spine in the last ten years.’
‘Yeah, well.’ Roy looks down to his feet, then up again. Face like stone.
‘I’ll be outside.’ Sarah touches Roy’s arm, then passes behind him to walk across the church. There is a grace to her movements Jasper had not noticed before. He wonders if it’s new or if in their youth he had merely failed to recognize it. She and Esther stop by the doorway, looking back. But not at him, at Roy.
Jasper envies him that.
He tears his eyes from Sarah, and looks back to Roy. The other man is watching him. He shakes his head with a sort of disgust, and Jasper can’t help but wonder what it is Roy sees in him that he so dislikes.
‘We’re done here,’ Roy says. ‘You hear? And you stay away from my family.’
‘I ain’t here to hurt nobody.’
‘Damned if I care why you’re here, Jasper, so long as you stay clear of me and mine.’ Roy does not wait for an answer. He crosses the church quickly without looking back. Jasper watches as Roy puts his arm around Sarah. As she and he and Esther shake hands with the reverend and disappear into the brightness of the day beyond. There’s a pain in Jasper’s chest he has not felt for some time. He shakes his head to clear it, but the hurt’s still there the same.
A hand slides onto his forearm and squeezes lightly. He had not heard her approach. He is not sure how much, if any, of his conversation with Roy she overheard. ‘Let’s go on home now,’ Lizzie whispers, and he closes his eyes, seeking comfort in her voice.
When he opens them, she’s looking up at him, waiting. He nods once, stiffly. ‘All right,’ he says. ‘Let’s go.’
She releases his arm, says nothing. Starts towards the door. Mutely, he follows.
The sun outside is scorching hot. Mirages down the road glisten invitingly, like cool pools of water. Katie tilts her head back to feel the sun more fully on her face. The heat of it relaxes her closed eyelids. Feels good to be outside where what little wind there is can cool. Her lips are dry and she can feel the heat from the sun start to crack them. She lowers her face. Opens her eyes. Most folks have left the church by now, but she still doesn’t see Mom or Uncle Jasper. Katie hears her name from somewhere and shades her eyes to look around. A bunch of her friends stand round the back of Josh’s pickup. It’s Josh who called her. She smiles, waves and crosses the field, hurrying to join him.
Josh leans against the back of his truck, one foot crossed in front of the other. ‘Hey, Princess,’ he calls, and she can’t help but smile. He puts his arm round her shoulders and keeps it there. She likes the warmth of his arm around her even though the day is hot. Something about just knowing it’s there reassures her. She reaches up to her shoulder to hold his hand in hers.
‘I can’t believe your mom brought him here.’ Ray Credinski leans against his own truck, parked next to Josh’s.
‘I can’t believe you came to church!’ Emma Golepi laughs. ‘We never see you in church!’
Katie half smiles. ‘Yeah, I know.’ She leans into Josh to feel the comfort of him.
‘He ain’t gonna last long,’ Josh whispers, ‘if he carries on like this. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Don’t say that, Josh.’
‘Just seeing him gives me the creeps.’ Kristen brushes her hair out of her face. ‘Do you feel weird changing with him in the house? I’d never have a shower!’ She shudders.
Katie looks down at her sandals. Her red toes peep out at her. She thinks of the tender way he speaks to her sister. ‘He ain’t all bad,’ she says quietly.
Josh snorts, his arm heavy round her shoulders. She follows his gaze across the field. Then forgets to breathe.
Eddie Saunders is crossing the lawn towards them. Three men walk beside him. Two, Katie does not know or recognize. The third is Josh’s father. Her saliva catches, newly sticky in her throat, and she finds it hard to swallow. Instinctively, she clutches Josh’s hand more tightly. He shakes her grip free and steps forward, all smiles. Extends his hand to his father first, then solemnly shakes Eddie’s. ‘Sir.’ He nods to the older man and to the men behind him.
‘All right, son, all right.’ Mr Ryan chuckles and smacks his son on the back. He’s dressed nicer than most folks. His snakeskin cowboy boots look like they’ve never seen stirrups. His collar stands stiff with starch, an antique bola tightening his top button with a turquoise stone set in pure silver. He has the polished look of a big city doctor or lawyer. Only the dark stains round his short-kept nails hin
t that he’s an oil man. Katie’s never quite liked Mr Ryan. Or, rather, it’s not so much that she’s ever disliked him, she simply knows when she’s been judged and found not up to standard.
‘Dad, you remember Katie?’
Mr Ryan turns to her. His smile is delayed. ‘Of course I do.’
She can feel Eddie’s eyes boring into her. She extends her hand to Mr Ryan. ‘It’s nice to see you again, sir.’
He takes her hand. Nods to her. Something in his eyes she has not seen before. ‘Josh’s been tellin’ me so much about you lately.’ He flashes a smile that does not soften the dark contours of his face. ‘Seems your family is the talk of the town once again!’
She can still feel Eddie’s eyes locked on her. She’s never met him before. She’s never met any of the Saunders. Till Uncle Jasper came back home, the Saunders had never seemed important to her. Had never seemed real. They were just a family she’d been told young to keep far away from.
‘You’re his niece, aren’t you?’ The words more spat at her than said.
She turns very slowly to face him. Her reply clumps in her throat and stays there. Mutely, she nods.
Eddie Saunders steps forward towards her. He reaches out one calloused hand and gently lifts her chin so that her eyes meet his. His voice is rough. ‘You’re a pretty thing to keep so close to him.’ He turns her face slowly from side to side. His gentleness surprises her. She doesn’t know what to say. Just looks at him, uncertain. He smiles then, slowly, releasing her chin. She can still feel the roughness of his calluses even after he’s moved his hand. ‘Tell me,’ he says softly, ‘are you close with your uncle?’
She hesitates. ‘Well, no, sir, not particularly.’
‘I’d thought as much from what young Josh here’s told me.’ He leans his back against the tail of Josh’s pickup. ‘He’s mighty soft on you, that boy.’ She feels herself blush. Glances shyly at Josh in time to see his cheeks, too, go red. ‘He’s worried ’bout you, you know,’ Eddie continues, ‘ ’n’ frankly I can see why. Ten years ago you’d just ’bout been your uncle’s favourite type.’
The Last Days of Summer Page 19
