The Dirty Parts of the Bible: A Novel

by Sam Torode

  Wilburn called out over the crowd, “Y’all feeling good?” Everyone cheered. “Then why not kick off your boots and stay a little longer?” At that cue, JP dragged the bow across his fiddle, giving off a whine that made the hairs on my neck stand up. Bass and guitars joined in, then Uncle Will’s voice.

  Sitting in the window, singing to my love,

  Slop bucket fell from the window up above;

  Mule and the grasshopper eatin’ ice cream,

  mule got sick, so they laid him on the green.

  Stay all night, stay a little longer,

  Dance all night, dance a little longer;

  Pull off your coat, throw it in the corner,

  Don’t see why you can’t stay a little longer.

  Craw and Granny went whirling past us, hand in hook. Craw looked at me over his shoulder. “Why are Baptists against fornication?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They’re afraid it might lead to dancing.” Then he twirled Granny till she crowed with delight.

  Grab your partner, pat her on the head,

  If she don’t like biscuits, feed her cornbread;

  Girls around Big Creek, bout half grown,

  Jump on a man like a dog on a bone.

  Stay all night, stay a little longer,

  Dance all night, dance a little longer;

  Pull off your coat, throw it in the corner,

  Don’t see why you can’t stay a little longer.

  To me, the Melody Makers sounded at least as good as the bands on the radio. Could Uncle Will be right that Father had the best voice in the family? I’d only heard him sing God-awful hymns.

  After a couple more swing tunes, Granny jumped up on top of a picnic table and called out a square dance. We sashayed, do-si-doed, flutterwheeled, passed the ocean, and promenaded for at least an hour. Square dancing wasn’t half as easy as I expected. While Granny stomped, clapped, and hollered, I dodged and wove my way through the traffic, trying to avoid collisions.

  In between reels, Craw pulled me aside and whistled. “Your grandmother is one firecracker of a lady.”

  “Granny?”

  He shook his head. “If only she and I were younger …”

  I put my hands over my ears. “Don’t talk about my grandmother that way—that’s sick.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean it that way.” Craw put his arm around my shoulder. “I assure you, my boy—my intentions towards her are purely platonical.”

  By the time the sun started to sink, the Henry men had drunk too much to walk straight and the women had great rings of sweat under their arms. “Let’s wind it down,” Uncle Will said, “with an ole-timey waltz. Just like the good ol days.” At first, I didn’t recognize the song:

  I’m dreaming dear of you, day by day

  Dreaming when the skies are blue,

  when they’re gray;

  When the silv’ry moonlight gleams,

  still I wander on in dreams,

  In a land of love, it seems, just with you.

  I held Sarah’s hand and put my hand on her back. She smiled up at me. “Lead me wherever you want to go, Toby.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “It’s as easy as sliding in a box,” Sarah said. I mirrored her steps as she counted out the beats—one-two-three, one-two-three … It was easy, as long as I forgot about what my right hand was doing against the curve of Sarah’s back.

  Then Uncle Will started on the chorus:

  Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.

  Let me hear you whisper that you love me too.

  Keep the love-light glowing in your eyes so true.

  Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.

  It was the song Father sang to Mama the day they met, the one that swept her off her feet. Only this time, I was the one getting swept off my feet. Sarah might not have been pretty in the usual way, but it was her little quirks that got to me. Her freckles, pointy eyebrows, the fine, downy hairs on her arms, the way she smelled. Other girls powdered over their skin, plucked their hairs, perfumed their hair. Sarah was a wild rose—graceful without trying, beautiful without knowing it.

  Whether it was love, lust, or just the effects of beer and a wine-colored dress, I didn’t know. But I was smitten.

  CHAPTER 26

  WE left the tent arm in arm, floating on the last strains of JP’s fiddle. The sun hovered just above the cedars, a red ball melting behind into orange haze. As tired as my feet were, I didn’t want the day to end. I touched the back of Sarah’s hand. “Can I walk you home?”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away and walked ahead, then held out her arms like she was balancing on an imaginary tightrope. Had I said something wrong? She fell off her tightrope and looked back at me. “Let’s not go home just yet.”

  She grabbed my sleeve and pointed towards the field. “Come on—I want to show you my secret place.”

  I blushed at her unintended double meaning and followed her through the tall grass, past trees, over the rocks, and all the way down to the river. I wanted to tell her my own secret—that I’d first seen her here, from up on that rock. We followed the shoreline till we came to a massive limestone ledge hanging out over the water. Sarah climbed up on top.

  I looked around. “This is it?”

  “Almost.” She helped me up, then led me a little ways down the ledge, where she bent down and pointed to an indentation in the stone. “This is what I wanted you to see.”

  “A hole in a rock?” So much for my hoped-for double meaning.

  “Look.” She pointed to another hole a few yards away, and then to another hole several yards beyond that. “Don’t you see what they are?”

  I looked at them sideways. “Ah, now I see—three holes in a rock.”

  “They’re footprints.”

  I put my boot inside the first indentation. It was about two feet long, with three toe-like marks at the top. “Whoever left these must have had a heck of a time finding shoes.”

  “A dinosaur doesn’t wear shoes, silly.”

  “Dinosaur?” I pulled my foot out of the hole. “Are you joking?”

  “Nobody knows how they got here, but the Paluxy is full of fossilized tracks.” Sarah put her foot inside the next one. “Some locals are cutting them out and selling them to tourists. But nobody knows about these except me and Mister Henry.”

  “You found them?”

  “A flood carried away the top layer of stone last fall. When I showed them to Mister Henry, he wrote to a professor in Austin. The professor came up to study them and said they’re at least a hundred million years old.”

  “A hundred million?” My mind couldn’t begin to wrap around a number that big. According to my father, the entire universe was only six thousand years old—which was a lot easier to imagine. “How could a footprint turn to stone?” I asked. “Water always washes tracks away.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it? It’s a mystery.”

  “I hate mysteries,” I said. “I want answers.”

  “What does it matter?”

  Kneeling down, I dipped my fingers into the claw marks. “If that professor is right, these footprints prove the Bible wrong.”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “What does the Bible have to do with dinosaurs?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “That’s the problem. There’s no mention of God creating dinosaurs, or Noah bringing them on the Ark, or anything.”

  “Why would the Bible say anything about dinosaurs? They died out ages before it was written.”

  “But the Bible’s supposed to be the word of God. And it says the earth was created in six days, and the first man was created only a day or two after all the animals—which would have to include dinosaurs.”

  Sarah shrugged. “What’s a day to God? A million years to us might only be a minute to him.”

  “You sound like Craw.” Were Baptists the only people who didn’t understand myths?

  + + +

  Sarah’s secret place was
older than I could fathom, yet fresh as the dawn of time. When we finished looking at the tracks, we sat on the ledge and dangled our legs over the river. Water trickled over a thousand stones and pebbles, tinkling like a chorus of wind chimes. Something rustled behind us and I spun around, half-expecting to find a dinosaur. Instead, a buck, a doe, and two fawns emerged from the trees and glided down to the river for a drink. They were smaller than Michigan deer, and so graceful; now I knew why King Solomon was always comparing women to does, and breasts to twin fawns.

  Amidst all that splendor, I remembered something Craw had said: Show me a man and a woman in love, and I’ll show you Adam and Eve. Right then, it seemed that Sarah was the only girl on earth, and I the only boy, discovering the world and each other for the first time. We were just like Adam and Eve, except that we had clothes on. For the time being.

  Sarah glanced over at me. “Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  I blushed again. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Mostly I think about you.”

  She picked up a stone and tossed it into the river. “That’s boring. I was hoping you were thinking about something important.”

  “Like what?”

  “Why we’re here. Or where we’re going.”

  “For me, it’s all the same,” I said. “If I can figure you out, maybe I’ll know where I’m going.”

  She looked up at the purple-blue sky. “Then we’re both lost.”

  A couple of stars twinkled overhead. We watched in silence for a while, then I slid my fingers on top of hers. “I’ve never told you this,” I said. “But I saw you near here once, before we met in the field.”

  She pulled back her hand. “What do you mean?”

  “I was up on a rock, over there.” I pointed to the spot. “Drying off from swimming. You didn’t see me.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I was naked.”

  Sarah smiled. “I wish I’d seen that.”

  My cheeks burned red. “Anyhow—I’ve always wondered what you were doing. You looked like you were crying, and then you fell into the water.”

  Sarah tossed another stone into the river. “I was going to drown myself.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly that I didn’t have a chance to register any surprise. “But you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t sink, so I figured I must be a witch.” I thought she must be kidding, but she didn’t crack a smile. Then I remembered what Millie had said about a curse. Did Sarah actually believe that crazy rumor?

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Since that day—have you tried again?”

  “No.”

  “What changed?”

  “I met you.” She glanced at me, then looked out over the river. “You make me smile. And when I’m smiling, life doesn’t seem so bad.”

  I scooted closer and wrapped my arm around her waist. She leaned her head against my arm, then started to sniffle. “Toby, I’m so afraid.”

  I smoothed her hair. “Don’t worry—everything’s going to be all right.” I cupped her face in my hands and looked, for a moment, into those dark, sad eyes.

  “I wish I could believe that,” she said, and closed them.

  I kissed a salty tear from her cheek. Our noses bumped, and then I pressed my lips to hers, soft, wet, and growing warmer with every breath.

  She pulled back. “I’m sorry, Toby. I—I can’t.”

  I turned away. “No, it’s my fault. I got carried away—one beer too many.” My stomach felt hollow. I let myself voice the fear I’d had all along: “I know there’s someone else.”

  Sarah climbed to her feet. “It’s not that. But—I can’t explain.”

  “No need to explain anything,” I said. “Aunt Millie told me. She said you had other boys seeing you.”

  “Had.” Sarah wiped her eyes with the shoulder of her dress. “They’re gone now. And if you died, too, I’d never forgive myself.”

  “Hold on. Is this about that supposed curse?”

  She stepped back. “I knew you’d find out. I shouldn’t have put you at risk.” She covered her face with her hands. “Shouldn’t have let you so close.”

  I reached out. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not cursed.”

  Then Sarah turned and ran. She flew off the ledge and scampered up the path towards the farm, dodging trees and leaping over rocks. I ran behind her. “Wait—you’re not cursed. There’s no such thing as a curse!” She didn’t look back.

  I climbed to the top of the hill, then followed her through the grass. She turned down a dirt trail I’d never seen—a shortcut to her house? I was already winded, carried forward by momentum alone.

  Sarah bounded over a pile of boards and kept running. But when I crossed the same spot, my foot broke through the boards and I fell face-forward on the ground. My legs freely swung beneath me—I’d fallen into some sort of hole, and I was slipping fast. I grabbed at the planks of rotten wood, but they cracked and split around me. “Sarah—help!”

  I dug my fingers into the earth and stretched my boots against the sides of the hole to brace myself. Then two legs stepped in front of me. “Sarah?” I looked up and, for a moment, a dark shape flashed against the sky—the same silhouette I’d seen in my dream. Then the rocks gave way beneath my feet and I fell, scraping and sliding down a dark corridor. When I finally landed, I felt like I’d been hit by a train.

  The air was dank and stifling. I wasn’t the first unlucky creature to fall in; the place reeked of rotting animals. There was a lump under my side—probably a rabbit. The skin was soft and loose, and when I pushed it away, its bones made a clinking sound, like a sack of coins.

  Then I realized what I’d fallen into: a well. The well. And that wasn’t a dead rabbit, it was my father’s leather pouch stuffed full of money.

  Dirt and pebbles sprinkled down from above. Was that damn Indian still up there? Of course not—my mind was just playing tricks on me. Then Sarah cursed.

  “Shit. Not again. Dear God, not Toby.”

  My heart jumped. “Sarah—”

  But she couldn’t hear me. “Damn it all, he’s dead.” She began to sob.

  I took a deep breath and yelled with all my strength, “I’m not dead!” Then I fell back exhausted. Darkness swirled around me, the money pouch fell from my fingers, and the world went black.

  CHAPTER 27

  I awoke in a white room, with light streaming in through lace curtains. I looked down at my body, draped in a white sheet, and remembered Sarah’s last words: “He’s dead.” If this was heaven, how the hell did I get past the gate?

  A hand touched my forehead. I looked up and saw Sarah, still in her red dress. “Toby, I thought you were dead.”

  “Maybe I am.” I smiled and my lip cracked, sending a trickle of blood down my chin.

  She pressed a wet rag against my mouth. “Now you’re the one who looks like a vampire.”

  I was sorry to see that her dress was torn and frayed in spots from last night’s adventure. On the nightstand next to me, there was a plant of some sort with long, spiky green leaves. Sarah broke off a leaf and squeezed some clear juice into the palm of her hand. “Just relax,” she said. “Craw gave me this to put on your scrapes.”

  “Is that cactus?” With Craw, there was no telling.

  “It’s aloe vera—it’s very soothing.” She pulled the sheet down to my waist, and I yanked it back up. “It won’t hurt,” she said. “I promise.”

  “It’s not the cactus.” I pulled the sheet tight around my neck. “It’s that I—I don’t have any shirt on. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Sarah put her hand on my shoulder. “You got banged up pretty bad. We had to cut off your shirt and pants to tend the wounds.” My cheeks burned red—I hoped to God I hadn’t lost control of my bladder when I blacked out. She peeled back the sheet and dabbed some of the juice on my shoulder. I winced. “Did
Craw give you some salt to pour on me, too?”

  She rolled her eyes and started rubbing it in. After a minute, my skin did start to feel better—not because of the lotion so much as Sarah’s hands. I closed my eyes and breathed in her scent.

  Images from the night before came back to me in bits and pieces: the red dress, the river, the dinosaur tracks. Had I really kissed Sarah, or was it a dream? It all seemed so long ago. With a shudder, I remembered the broken boards, the earth giving out beneath me, the phantom Indian. Then I remembered the leather pouch. My pulse quickened. Father’s money was the answer to all my problems—and now that I knew where it was, it was just a matter of fishing it out.

  Aunt Millie poked her head in. “Tobias?” I yanked the sheet back around my neck. She walked in with a steaming plate of biscuits and gravy—my favorite breakfast. Uncle Will followed close behind, shaking his head. “I’ve been meaning to fill in that damn well for years,” he said. “Just knew someone would get hurt one of these days. Thank God you didn’t bust your neck.”

  Then Craw stepped through the doorway. I couldn’t believe it—Millie had never let him in the farmhouse before. He tipped his hat and grinned. “Well, well, well. You’re looking well, my boy—now that you’re out of the well.”

  I pointed to the aloe vera. “Must be that cactus of yours.”

  “Or the cedar bark poultice,” he said. I hadn’t bothered to look, but I did feel something wrapped tight around my left leg.

  As I took a bite of biscuit, Aunt Millie put her arm around Craw and squeezed his waist. “Thanks for bringing him up alive,” she said. I almost choked on the biscuit.

  “Don’t thank me,” Craw said. “Sarah’s the real hero.”

  Millie threw her arms around Sarah. “I sure have misjudged you, dear.” Then she looked at me. “She’s a real peach, Tobias.”

  “We’d better let him get his rest,” Craw said. “Course you should stay, Sarah”—he winked at me—“in case Tobias needs help getting to the john.”