Starlight

by Richard Wagamese

  Jensen grinned and put a hand to his face to cover it. Maddie just studied the bachelors with good humour. The pair of them shuffled their feet and appeared ready to bolt.

  Roth stuck his hands in his pockets then pulled one out and rubbed at his jaw and regarded Starlight with a grin. “Progress,” he said.

  Starlight nodded. “So the place is fine for you?”

  “It needs a lot of work. Men don’t know a whit about taking care of a place. But it’s sturdy and warm. Could use more light. Can we chuck them curtains?”

  Starlight looked shocked. “They been here forever.”

  “I think I can tell.”

  Jensen coughed into his hand. Maddie pressed her lips together and her eyes glittered.

  “Ah. Yeah. Sure,” Starlight said.

  “Growin’ things,” Emmy said. “A house needs growin’ things in it and this place has none. Be surprised at how much it changes how things feel.”

  “Always felt pretty good to me,” Roth said.

  “You’re a man.”

  Roth shrugged. “Yeah.”

  “Men can feel good in a cave or a lean-to.”

  Starlight looked at Jensen, who shook his head in merriment.

  “So you’ll stay? You’ll take the work?” Starlight asked.

  “What about school? How will she get there?”

  “Bus picks up kids along this line regular every morning,” Roth said.

  “I don’t do no extras. You get what you get. You want extra, you do it yourself.”

  “Sure,” Starlight said.

  “And I don’t pick up after nobody. You put dishes in the sink and clothes in a hamper. That’ll be on the list by the way.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A helping hand now and then is a good thing.”

  “Okay.”

  “But most important?” She looked at the two of them. Roth rocked on his heels and Starlight glanced at his shoes. “Most important is thanks. Thanks for bringing us here. Thanks for helping me get things in order for my girl. We won’t be no bother to you.”

  “You ain’t asked what I owe,” Starlight said.

  “It’s me that owes,” she said. “Wages? Hell, that’d be gravy.”

  * * *

  —

  She made a supper of chicken, roasted potates, and corn. Starlight and Roth cleared the magazines from the chairs and they sat at the old wooden table eating wordlessly. The girl set down her fork every now and then and stared at the adults, and when she made eye contact with either Starlight or Roth the men would look down at their plates or stare off at a corner of the ceiling. Her mother ate slowly. Jensen and Maddie had departed, and the four of them had negotiated their way around the house under a canopy of silence that had only dropped lower and closer about them so that the meal was heavy with discomfort. Every scrape and clink only accentuated it. The men finished first and sat square in their chairs, waiting for Emmy and Winnie to finish. When she finally set down her fork, Emmy coughed lightly and rose and began to gather plates and cups and set them in the sink. She ran hot water to fill it and added soap and stood there watching the suds spread with her back to the men, who looked back and forth at each other in silence before finally standing and setting their chairs deliberately against the table. They gazed down at the girl. She twirled a lock of hair and waited for them to speak but neither of them knew what to say so they moved around the end of the table and made their way to the door leading to the mudroom and the back porch.

  “Chores,” Roth said.

  “Thank you,” Starlight said to Emmy as he passed.

  She nodded and began to stir the soap around a plate with a beat-up sponge she had found under the sink. They closed the door behind them and she could hear the clunk and gather of them preparing for the barn.

  Later, when they returned, the house was quiet. The lamps were left on and a fire had been laid in the hearth. They sat in their chairs and smoked and watched the flames, listening for any sound of motion from above. They heard nothing. Eventually they reached for their reading materials and smoked and read until one of them yawned and stretched and stood and the other followed suit. Roth walked into the kitchen to shut the lights and to flick on the yard light. Starlight glanced about the living room and set things straighter and neater where they’d sat and then stood quietly until Roth emerged from the kitchen.

  “Reckon they’ll be warm enough tonight?” Roth asked.

  “She’s a chill old house.”

  “Girl might get cold.”

  “Wouldn’t want that.”

  Roth led the way to his room and they opened the closet that held his few articles of clothing and a shelf piled with blankets and quilts and extra sheets. Starlight reached up and hauled down a pair of wool blankets. He held one to his face and sniffed at it. “Dust,” he said. “And age.”

  “We ain’t used other’n what’s on our beds as long as I recollect,” Roth said.

  “Gotta be somethin’ up there won’t smell of time.”

  They spent the next few minutes sniffing at everything until they settled on a pair of quilts. They were rag quilts. Each panel different from the rest and sewn carefully. They felt warm and comfortable and the men took them in the crooks of their arms.

  “How’d these come to be here?” Roth asked.

  “Christmases. Sometimes the ladies on the line would bring things over for the old man. These were some of those offerings.”

  “When’s the last time a woman been in this house, Frank?”

  “For some time, you mean?”

  “Yeah. For some time.”

  “Can’t rightly say, but I’d suspect it’d have been my mother. Twenty-four, twenty-five years, I reckon.”

  “Damn. No wonder this place is a dust bin.”

  “Me’n the old man kept it sorted out the best we could. You and I? We could use some help.”

  They walked out of the bedroom with the quilts draped in their arms and stood at the foot of the stairs, listening. There wasn’t a sound from above. Starlight began to climb and Roth followed, both of them careful to step close to the edge of the riser where creaks were less likely. The staircase like everything else was built solidly, but they were stealthy nonetheless. They stood at the head of the stairs and looked down the hallway to the front bedroom. There was no skein of light showing beneath the door. They crept the length of the hallway, eyeing each other.

  “Whatta we do?” Roth asked. “Leave ’em here at the door?”

  “Might could,” Starlight said. “But she mightn’t find them.”

  “So creep in and leave ’em on the bed?”

  “I don’t know. Wouldn’t want them scareda us.”

  The house was silent. They looked at each other again, waiting for the other to make the first move. Eventually, Roth opened the door a crack and peered in, then motioned Starlight to follow. The two of them inched across the room toward the bed where Emmy and Winnie were clumped close together. In that blued and silvery light they faced each other on the one pillow, and the repose made the men gather their breath. Then Starlight nudged Roth and they stepped to either side of the bed and unfolded a quilt and walked the edge of it upward across the bodies of the sleeping forms to their chins and let the quilt settle over them like a dream. Then they stepped back. They studied the mother and daughter caught in the safe secure confines of the old house they knew so well and then crept to the door and closed it and stood in the hallway drinking in the quiet majesty of that sight. They made their way carefully to the head of the stairs. There were no words to be said. Roth turned and made his way down the stairs. Starlight watched him go and then stood alone, transfixed by the elegance of the moment they had just shared. He looked across the hall at the door to the old man’s room and smiled. Then he turned, flicked off the hallway light, and walked into the dark cave of his room, undressed and slid beneath the sheets, hauling the blanket up to his own chin and turning his face to the pillow, and let the night fold i
tself around him and slept.

  THE FIRE HAD BEEN BANKED IN THE HEARTH when he came down the stairs in the purple world of morning. The house was warm. Roth sat smoking in his chair in front of the fire and shrugged to him as he passed. Emmy was stirring oatmeal and there was the smell of coffee. She brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face and he watched the straight back of her and the firm set of her shoulders.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “There’s coffee on the stove. I don’t know what you take in it so there’s sugar and milk on the table.” She didn’t turn around.

  “Black,” he said. “Same for Eugene.”

  “Well, Eugene is going to have to serve himself. Same as you.”

  “Ma’am,” Starlight said. He poured them each a cup and toted them into the living room and shrugged at Roth as he sat. They lifted the cups to their lips and sipped and Roth grimaced.

  “That’s some brew,” he said.

  “Strong is sure,” Starlight said.

  Emmy stepped into the doorway wiping her hands on her skirt. “There’s porridge ready.”

  “We don’t usually eat before chores,” Roth said. “Coffee and a smoke is all. Most times just the smoke.”

  “Well, you’ll eat now,” she said. “I’ll fix a proper breakfast when you’re done. We’ll need to shop today.”

  “We done it last week,” Starlight said.

  “Well, what you done isn’t gonna allow me to feed you proper. I’m going to need a lot more.”

  “We ain’t the biggest eaters,” Roth said.

  “And look at ya. You’re a bean pole.”

  “I like to call it lean. Like a panther, you know?”

  She shook her head sadly. “Damn hard-put-upon panther you ask me. We need things. Pure and simple.”

  “All right,” Starlight said. “We can get some things from your list too, if you got it ready.”

  “It will be.”

  The men rose and followed her into the kitchen. There was a small stack of fresh toast and jam set out on a plate and a pair of steaming bowls of porridge. They sat awkwardly, unused to the ceremony of eating. Roth sipped at his coffee while Starlight slathered jam on a slice of toast. Slowly. Taking his time. When he looked up she was eyeing the pair of them coolly.

  “I swear it’s like the two of you never done breakfast.”

  “Oh, we done it,” Roth said. “But more like hanging our faces over the sink, jawin’ about work that needs doin’.”

  “This is different, that’s sure,” Starlight said.

  “Well, you brung me here to do a job and a job is what I mean to do. If I have to teach you to eat proper, that’s part of my job. I aim to make you feel right about your choice.”

  “You done good so far. This is fine.” Starlight lifted a spoon of the porridge in salute.

  “It’s porridge. Take a heap of doin’ to mess that up.”

  “Still and all, I thank you.”

  “Me too,” Roth said. He crammed a whole slice of toast into his mouth and sat back and chewed roughly then chased it down with a big slug of coffee. He grinned at both of them.

  “Gonna take a whole lot of teachin’ for some. I can see that already,” Emmy said. There was a light in her eyes and Starlight felt glad to see it.

  “You slept good?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I did. Thank you for the quilts. Can’t believe I never heard you. Musta been more tired than I knew. Turns out we only needed the one.”

  “The girl? She sleep okay too?”

  “She still is. Sleeping in a truck is no way to rest. And a bundle of blankets on a wood floor don’t lend itself to good sleep neither.”

  “I’m sorry that had to happen to you.”

  “Better’n what it was.”

  She looked at the floor and the two men fell into silence. Neither of them wanted to break her quiet. They ate keeping an eye on her and saw her tremble slightly then gather herself with a long indrawn breath and raise her head to look at them.

  “But I won’t bother you with that,” she said. “Now finish off that slop and get them chores done. I’ll have you a real breakfast in a couple hours. I seen an old triangle on the porch. I’ll bang that when it’s ready.”

  “That’ll be good,” Starlight said. “We got a thin day. The three of us can head into town once we eat.”

  “What’s that leave me to do?” Roth asked.

  “You can ride that fenceline and see if we need to pull wire again.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Prowl it,” Starlight said. “You know. Like a panther.”

  Emmy smirked. Roth grinned and drained his coffee and followed Starlight into the mudroom.

  * * *

  —

  They drove the first part of the way into town in silence. Winnie sat between Starlight and Emmy and leaned forward on the edge of the seat with her hands on the windshield, staring at the country they drove through and pointing out various things to her mother. Emmy sat with one leg crossed over the other and one arm slung along the window frame of her door, nodding to her daughter and rubbing her back in small circles. Starlight gripped the wheel with both hands and struggled for words. None were forthcoming. He drove easily and leisurely so the girl could see more. The silence was a living thing between them. Emmy jostled in her seat to partially face him and he peered at her out of the corner of his eye.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  “Sure.”

  “Can I get some money up front? I need to get Winnie some school clothes. She hasn’t any. Maddie said she’d give us a day or so to get sorted before she takes us to register her for school. But I thought since we’re going to town…”

  Starlight nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. Sure. I can see to that.”

  “Thank you, Frank.”

  “You’re welcome, Emma.”

  “Emmy.”

  He glanced at her. “Thank you, Emmy,” he said.

  “It’s always Frank? No Frankie?”

  “No. No Frankie. Just Frank. Franklin, really.”

  “You don’t strike me as a Franklin.”

  “How do I strike you?”

  “Like a Frank, I guess.”

  “What I am.”

  The silence descended over them again. Winnie sat back and leaned on her mother. Emmy draped an arm over her shoulders. Frank pursed his lips and drove but finally got the gumption to look at Emmy directly.

  “The way you done our feedin’,” he said, “was like you know how farmers eat. Somethin’ small then chores then a bigger breakfast later. How come was that?”

  “A long time ago,” Emmy said slowly, “I was a farm girl. My family had a farm. I don’t remember lots of it. It was a long time ago.”

  “You ain’t that old.”

  “It ain’t the years. It’s how you feel in them.”

  He studied her briefly then concentrated on the road. “Yeah, this kinda life stays with ya. I tried to leave once. Couldn’t.”

  “Where did you have a mind to go?”

  “Don’t know. Couldn’t figure it. But I couldn’t reckon not bein’ here either once I got to the road. So I turned around and stayed. It ain’t lots. But it’s mine and I don’t owe nothin’ on it.”

  “Lots do, I suppose.”

  “Yeah. My neighbours struggle. She’s a hard go. I was lucky.”

  “That’s been in short supply for me.”

  “Luck?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m of a mind ya make yer own.”

  “Easy for you to say. You got it.”

  “I suppose that’s true. Take things for granted me sometimes.”

  “It’s nice you can afford to.”

  He drummed his fingers on the wheel. He’d never been much on conversation and when they dead-ended he was always at a loss over the silence he found himself wrapped in. Now, with her, he felt awkward as a kid. He didn’t know how to talk to women. His world had been a world of men and h
e was used to their gruff, clipped talk and liked it since it matched his own inherent reticence. He admired those men like Roth who could roll out conversation like a favourite old carpet and stand on it and hold forth for long stretches at a time. Talk had always been a struggle for him. He found himself more fully in wombs of silence than in the hard light of the world of talk.

  “Sorry if that sounded bitter,” she said.

  He shook his head. “No matter. If it was I missed it. Me, I don’t figure anyone’s story is free of grit. Mine ain’t.”

  “That’s a good word. Grit.”

  “Kinda wraps it up. Don’t it?”

  “Some,” she said.

  It had always seemed to Starlight that words had edges to them. Not so much like endings or finalities but more like where they stopped. There was an edge there like the lip of a cliff where words came to teeter, the brink of their flow sudden, exhilarating in the shock of the drop at their feet, so that everything was out of balance for an instant. It seemed to him that the choice of the next one determined poise or plummet, though he couldn’t lend words to that idea. Instead, he’d always just felt it. His taciturn nature was built on the grounding act of silence until he could parse the next right thing to say. Right then, he couldn’t, so he allowed the talk to dwindle and they drove on in silence.

  When they entered Endako he slowed and let them see it. The girl knelt in her mother’s lap and leaned out the open window. People on the sidewalk waved to him and he raised a hand cordially or nodded. Winnie waved excitedly. Emmy sat stolidly staring straight ahead. He could see questions on his neighbours’ faces. When he parked on the main street and began walking, Emmy and Winnie trailed behind him, and he greeted people as he passed.

  “They know you good here,” Emmy said.

  “Been here all my life.”

  “Must feel good.”

  “I don’t know any other way of feelin’.”

  She nodded grimly and matched his tempo. They walked side by side with Winnie holding her hand. As they passed, Emmy could see people squint in confusion and when they tried to meet her eyes she lowered her head and tugged the girl along.