Kiss or Kill Under the Northern Lights

by Susan Johnson

  As the night wore down, the band began to slow the type of music they were playing in favor of the sultry sounds of the blues. I found myself swayin’ to the drawn-out, mellow yawns of saxophones and muted trumpet, the handsome stranger holdin’ me close, whispering naughty things to me. My face blushed at some of what he was sayin’, but most of it made me needy in a way I’d never felt before. The lingerin’ words of longing clung in the air as I wrapped my body as close to Collins as a woman possibly could. He touched and caressed me, as our bodies intertwined on the dance floor, until we were as far as one could get from the rest of the crowd. When he pulled back and stood still, he murmured in my ear. “Gladys Roberts, you may be a young one, but you’re a keg of gunpowder to a man with a lighter, dangerous as hell.”

  I nuzzled my nose into the crook of his neck, pressing my breasts hard against his chest, knowin’ I’d gotten him excited, purrin’ like a kitten being pet. “I think I’ll have to take that as a compliment, though I don’t know if you think so yourself.”

  He reached down and held my bottom in his hand and squeezed. “I can say this. Your Pappy’s got a damned hard job on his hands keeping up with the likes of you.” Then he brought his lips down to mine, his hand at the back of my neck and seared me with a demanding, feverish kiss like I’d never known before or since. That man had a way about him, let me tell you, that was sexy as hell.

  I lost the rose of my womanhood to Collins that night in the cab of his delivery truck. We went at it like two cats in an alley, scratching and fuming one minute, tender-like seeking and finding the next. And Lord, did the man know what he was doing. It may not have lasted long the first time, but it was a moment that’ll never be far from my mind. One of those dark, secluded evenings when you think your heart will explode but it never does and your life changes forever. Of course, I didn’t know it then, but I’d already made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.

  It was a mighty long ride back to my place with me cozied up to Collins all the way. He snuggled me to his side as we wound through the backroads of Iowa, quiet and deserted in the middle of the night, still warm and pliant with the afterglow of our joining. We shared his cigars and drove in his old jalopy of a truck, through the dark, humid nights of the farmland, the crickets and tadpoles the only thing stirring in the glare of the headlights as we drove.

  I had him stop about a mile out from our place and drop me off out on the county road. I captured his face in my hands and left him with one final searing kiss. When I pulled back to look at him, one corner of his mouth rose in a nonchalant half-grin. I panicked a little—not that I betrayed my fears to Collins—as I wondered if I’d ever see this man again. His gaze roamed over my face and I felt a familiar sizzle between us again.

  “How’s about I pick you up right here, Gladys, next Friday night, ’bout an hour after sundown. Do you ’spose you can get away again?” he asked, caressing my ear, his fingers warm on my neck.

  I nodded my head and smiled.

  “Yeah, I think I can do that,” I said, then captured his mouth in a quick kiss and got out of the truck. I looked back as I walked through that first row of corn, just high enough that I would disappear within the leaves and make my way through the field to our farmhouse. I stopped halfway to change out of my flapper outfit back into that virginal potato-sack dress I wore most days for chores and the sensible shoes I’d been dragging around with me all night. It was near enough to daylight that I decided to stash my knapsack in the field until I could retrieve it later.

  The dew was still heavy in the quack-grass on the outskirts of the yard when I snuck around the back of the barn and cleaned my face in the water trough. I went on my way, going about my outside chores, no different than any other day, making as if I’d risen early to get a start on my day. At some point when I was pitchin’ a forklift of chicken straw into the coop, I looked across the yard to the stockroom where the hired men slept and saw Bob come out the side door, throwin’ out the wash water from the previous day. He saw me across the yard and nodded at me before he went back indoors.

  My folks were none the wiser, but my energy was dragging in the afternoon. I’d feigned that I wasn’t feeling right and needed to lie down for a rest, then I caught up on the night of sleep I’d missed while I was having my way with Collins in the wilds of Iowa.

  It all worked just fine. My Ma was even impressed I’d taken a liking to my chores on Saturday mornings, so they kept giving me even more outside chores. As the weeks went by and I kept stealing those Friday nights with Collins, a dark cloud-like feeling of doom started to hang over me like rainclouds in the distance on a sunny day. I knew I couldn’t get away with my sneakin’ around forever, but there was nothing or nobody who could keep me away from those nights to find myself in the arms of that quiet man with the dark looks and pouting mouth, the rapture of our bodies joined together.

  My Pa was a very frugal man. Mind you, he wasn’t poor. Far from it, but he believed the way to become a rich man in this world was to keep your money and he’d amassed enough, I figured he knew what he was talking about. We rarely used the cars and trucks on the farm, only for times when it was difficult or impossible to hitch up a team to take to town.

  It was one of those very hot late summer days when the air is so thick you can nearly take a slice of it with a knife when all hell broke loose for me. Pa had taken myself and Dewitt and Helen into town for a regular run to stock up on things needed on the farm. Helen and I had our hands full with two or three baskets of eggs each we were taking in to exchange for a list of items our Ma had sent along with us. We rode on the buckboard in back while Dewitt and Pa sat in front, and I remember thinkin’, as the heat sweltered around us and the sun beat down, all I wanted to do was get out of the drudgery of that life. Little did I know I was about to get my wish.

  Pa dropped us off at the mercantile to do our trading then went on his way to the lumber yard for some things to repair a roof. We went ahead and made our trade, though the grocer wouldn’t take all of our eggs. He simply didn’t need that many, so we took our baskets of goods and eggs and left, sittin’ down in the shade of the awning outside the store. We talked about making our way ’round the other end of town where there was another small country store where we might be able to sell our eggs, but the heat was overwhelming and the sun so strong we thought it might be best not to tax ourselves that much and just take the rest of the eggs home.

  Long before we were expectin’, we saw Pa’s horses and wagon barrelin’ down the street. He didn’t stop for anything, not even slowing for a mother and daughter who hadn’t seen him coming. Helen and I stood from where we were sittin’, wonderin’ if maybe something had happened to Dewitt ’cause we couldn’t see him anywhere. Pa slowed the horses to a stop right in front of us and jumped down to the dusty street. His face was beet red and sweat poured off of him. He stomped over to where we stood, planted his feet wide and pulled his arm back, smacking me with the back of his huge hand. I fell to the pavement, blood gushin’ from the corner of my mouth, my skin burning like a thousand suns. The basket of eggs I’d been carrying fell with me and broken eggs, their insides running on the hot concrete, lay all around me.

  “Pa, let me explain,” I tried to say before his glaring eyes held me where I’d landed, my hands bloodied from the fall and gooey from the eggs.

  “Not a word out of that filthy mouth of yours,” he said, pointing at me with the hand that had tenderly held mine for prayers at the dinner table every night of my life. I knew right off things would never be the same. He turned, pulled down his vest, straightened his tie. “Gather your things, Helen. We’re going to leave this wretched whore where she’s sitting, in the gutter, where she belongs.”

  He held out his hand to Helen, helped boost her up to the driver’s seat and got in beside her.

  “But, Pa, you can’t just leave me here,” I shouted. I couldn’t believe he was doing this to me. I was his daughter for crying out loud. His first child, my mothe
r’s helper in everything. I was the one they depended on for things. “What am I gonna do?”

  He looked down at me from his perch, the reins in his hands, my sister sitting wide-eyed, her mouth gaping open, beside him. The handful of folks who had been in town on a sweltering hot day had all stopped what they were doing to watch the drama unfolding on what would normally be a very quiet street. He shook his head at me, his face stone cold and stoic now. His lip curled as he wrinkled his nose looking down at me. “I suggest you pray because you’re no longer a daughter of mine,” he said, then snickered to get the horses to move and rode away.

  I could’ve run after them. I could’ve tracked them down. I could’ve even gone crawling back to the farm to beg them to take me back and forgive me or try to convince him it was a lie someone told him, but I knew it was no use. I should’ve stopped after the first night of bliss and left well enough alone, but I’d liked that other life and I desperately wanted to get away from the one I’d known. Even if I’d done all that begging and pleading, my Pa was not a forgiving man. He wasn’t the kind who could let well enough alone with only a whipping or a penance. He was a black and white man, who believed in the sanctity of God, and the only other answer was the wickedness of sin and Hell. He’d forever see me in that way, no matter how much I might try to pretty myself up. I was a lost soul now, so there wasn’t any going back.

  I had nothing and nobody. I didn’t have a dime to my name, not even a basket of eggs to pawn for a slice of bread. I sat in that gutter, my dress dirty and grimy with smeared eggs and wept bitterly, my shoulders shaking. I held my hand to my still-burning cheek, overwhelmed with a need to run, as fast and as far away as possible, yet my limbs didn’t feel as if I could move. My whole body shook as I looked up to find people approaching, wanting to hide myself from the world, yet I knew, sitting there that way, I stuck out like a sore thumb. One very kind woman, who’d been shopping near Helen and I when we’d been in the mercantile, came over to me and bent down.

  “Now, dear, let’s get you up on your feet so you can see the world more clearly,” she said, putting one hand under my armpit, helping me to my feet. She wiped her hanky at some of the dirt that had stuck to the egg yolks on my skirt. “There, there, now. It’s not as bad as all that.” She pulled me back to the shaded bench where I’d sat with my sister just minutes before. “It’ll all look better in the morning. You come home with me and we’ll get you cleaned up. We’ll get a civilized, clean dress on you and take you where you want to go.” She stood up and held out a hand to me, carrying her parcels in the other.

  “Why are you helping me?” I asked, tilting my head to one side.

  She looked away and held her chin high.

  “Because there is such a thing as Christian charity, my dear. Come along now,” she said, shaking her hand.

  I took her hand and stood, went along with her to her house, dazed and more than just a little bit confused about the nature and place of religion in the world. I didn’t understand then and still don’t today how both my Pa and that woman claimed cloth from the same robe, yet their outlook on life, sin and forgiveness were as different as night and day. It’s enough to boggle the mind.

  Arne and Ruth Hardwick showed me great kindness, allowing me to stay in their guest room, sharing their meals with me and letting me watch over their young son. Arne was even so kind as to go out to my farm asking for Bob to come in to town to talk to me. I knew better than to have him plead my case with father, who would only see that as further embarrassment to his authority. I figured the least Bob and Tommy could do was help me out since it was probably their big mouths that had gotten me into this fix in the first place.

  That Friday night, when Bob’s truck pulled up in the Hardwick’s drive, I pulled Ruth into a desperate embrace and kissed her cheek.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay you for all you’ve done for me,” I said, pulling at the material of the dress she’d given me, “Let alone for this dress.”

  Her round, caring eyes sparkled as she smiled and winked. “You never need to worry over that, Gladys, and if things don’t work out, you can always come back to find our doors open to you.” She kissed my cheeks in return and mumbled, “Go with God.”

  I closed the screen door gently, so as not to wake their child, then scooted down the steps to jump into Bob’s truck. A comfortable warmth came to my face as I felt overwhelmed by the Harwicks’ kindness, but in a good way. I looked over at Bob, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me.

  “Thank you for coming,” I said. “Can we get going now?”

  He just nodded and pulled out of the drive. It was a long silent ride for the longest while as we drove from Hampton to Charles City. Several times I thought of saying something but didn’t want to risk the chance Bob might boot me out of the truck and leave me truly alone along a deserted road.

  “Your Pa is mighty angry,” he said, not even glancing in my direction.

  “I know,” I answered.

  “He’s taking it out on everyone around, your sister and brothers, all of us hired men, even your Ma.”

  I shrugged. There was nothing I could do about that now and nothing I could say would make it any better.

  “I ’spose you think I’m the fellar that went and told him, but I’m not. I kept my mouth shut and so did Tommy,” he said, a slight tone of disdain in his voice now.

  “I don’t know who told him, but I figure it must’ve been someone in the lumber yard,” I said.

  “It coulda’ been anyone, Gladdie. Lots of folks have seen you ’round that Collins fellar since you’ve taken up with him. It was bound to come out sometime,” he said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Well, whatcha gonna do?”

  I shrugged and stared out the windshield as the bugs in the night air floated in the lamplights. “I don’t know, except I figure I’ll beg him to take me in.”

  “Your Pa?”

  “Hell, no! Collins,” I said. “I’m damned fond of that man and,” I shrugged my shoulders again, “he is with me, I think.”

  “But Gladdie, you don’t know nothing ’bout the man. You can’t just go off with a bloke like that. He’s got a reputation.” An awkward silence fell between us again. “He’s a hard man, Gladdie.”

  “But I think I love him, Bob, and I’ve got nowhere else to go. I’ll be his, if he’ll have me.” My mind had thought over all the possibilities and I hadn’t come up with a better solution than beggin’ the man I’d grown to love to take me in and give me a different life, but now I didn’t know. Explainin’ it to Bob made it all seem real and foolish, but in my mind, it had all made sense up ’til that moment. I stared out at the darkening sky as we drove, the yellowed hues of sunlight fading over the top of the darkened corn silks in the distance.

  “You sure ’bout this, Gladdie?”

  “No, but since when has that ever stopped me from doing a thing once I set my mind to it?”

  Bob escorted me into the speakeasy, which was the same as it had ever been, but that night it felt different. The same bartenders poured drinks for much of the same crowd of customers. The décor was still the same, not much changed from the old dairy barn it had once been. The music was a band from Minnesota called the Northern Lights Blues Babies, but I think it was the different clothes that made it all seem off to me. This time I had a regular dress like any lady of fine repute would wear to church on a Sunday instead of the flapper dress and heels I’d come to think of as a kind of costume. Maybe the sayin’ about the clothes making a man goes for women too, because I didn’t feel the same when I walked into the joint that night and spied Collins, as usual, sitting off to himself with his cigar.

  His eyes had wandered over to the doorway when Bob and I walked in and he wore a confused expression on his face. I turned to saunter over toward Collins when Bob tapped me on the shoulder.

  “Good luck, Gladdie. I’ll be here in case you need a ride back to those folks’ place,” he said.


  I reached up to kiss him on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks, Bob.”

  Collins had stood and thrown his cigar butt on the floor, stomping out the ember with the heel of his boot when I came over to him. He fingered the laid-down collar of my dress, then looked into my eyes.

  “What’s with the change in duds, doll?” he asked.

  I stood before him, seemin’ almost like a small child, beggin’ for a dime, knowing that this man held me to him in so many ways. He had my future in his hands and I knew it. I’d become obsessed with him, the way he felt, the way he made me feel, the things he did to me, but I wasn’t about to let on to one moment of weakness. I would tell him the truth.

  “My Pa found out about you, me,” I waved my hand to gesture, “All this. He smacked me upside the head and left me in the gutter.”

  Collins sucked air through his teeth, then gasped and looked away. “God-damned bastard,” he murmured.

  I stepped into the space between us, wrapped my arms around his waist and pressed my head against his chest.

  “Can I stay with you? Please?” I begged.

  He let out a deep breath and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “Of course, you can,” he said, then pulled me away from him. “But tonight, I’ve gotta make a delivery. I waited for you for a long time wondering why you didn’t show, then I came here on the off-chance Bob had given you a ride instead. I guess I was right, huh?”