Benediction

by Kent Haruf

  I’ll look, Lyle said. You don’t think she went out past the highway or rode over on the other side of Main Street.

  I don’t think so. But I don’t know now. Oh where’s my girl? She began to cry again.

  I’ll start looking, Lyle said.

  I’m coming with you, Lorraine said.

  The two of them hurried out to Lyle’s car and he drove along the quiet twilight street past the cars parked in front of the houses and onto the highway and back in the next street, and then up and down the alley, looking in the backyards. The light was fading out of the sky and at the street corners the streetlights were coming on.

  I’m starting to get sick at heart about this, Lorraine said. What if something has happened? Oh God, I hope it hasn’t.

  We can’t think that, Lyle said.

  But what if it has? It brings up all the old feelings for me. My daughter died in a car accident. Did you know that?

  Your mother told me.

  I’ve never gotten over it. I never will. You never get over a child’s death. She turned away. Lyle reached across the seat and took her hand. Now it’s Alice, she said, this little girl. I’ve let myself care too much for her. I know I shouldn’t have; it’s just starting things over again. That’s the awful truth. That’s how I feel about it. But I’d take her in, in a minute, if she didn’t have her grandma. Oh, what if something’s happened to her too.

  She stared out the window. Lyle held on to her hand. They crossed Main Street to the streets on the east side.

  The boy that was driving the car, Lorraine said, that boy is thirty-three years old now. He’s become a grown man and my daughter’s life ended at sixteen. Now if something like that has happened here …

  They drove across town and went bumping and rattling over the train tracks at the crossing and on to the north side, looking between the small houses and the turquoise trailer houses and the cars rusting in the weeds and the backyards.

  My son is in trouble too, Lyle said. I won’t tell you all of it. I won’t say what he wouldn’t want me to say, but he’s in serious trouble. I’m really worried about him. He’s gone to Denver to live with his mother.

  Will he be better there?

  I doubt it. What’s wrong with him isn’t about geography.

  Is this trouble he’s having, about you and him?

  Some of it is.

  They came back across the tracks. More cars were out in the evening now. High school kids driving up and down Main Street, honking at one another under the bright lights. Lyle and Lorraine turned off Main and drove along the railroad tracks to the town park. At the Holt swimming pool they stopped the car and hurried into the entrance. They could hear kids screaming and splashing. At the front counter there were two high school girls selling tickets, with the wire baskets of clothes stacked in ranks behind them.

  They quickly explained to the girls who they were looking for.

  No, we haven’t seen her, one of the girls said.

  No, we’ve been here since four, the other girl said.

  Just send her home, Lorraine said, if she shows up. You know her, don’t you?

  Yes.

  They went back to the car. Let’s go back, Lorraine said. She might have come back.

  When they drove into the street at the edge of town, they saw that all the lights in Berta May’s house were turned on. All the windows were filled up with light.

  The four women were standing out in front of the house. Lyle and Lorraine got out and came over to them.

  You never found her, Berta May said.

  No, Lyle said. But we haven’t given up. We’ll keep looking.

  Oh, where is she? I got all the lights on so she can see the house and come home.

  We should call the police now, Willa said.

  No. I can’t do that. Not yet.

  But they could look for her in ways we can’t.

  I don’t want them. I will pretty soon if I have to.… I will pretty soon.

  She looked around. They were watching her.

  I should go back inside. I’m not doing no good out here.

  Don’t go, Mary said. Stay here with us.

  I’m going all to pieces. You can see I am.

  We all feel that way, dear.

  Wait! Alene said. She was looking up the street. Someone’s coming.

  Somebody was out in the gravel street, coming toward them three or four blocks away. A small figure.

  I can’t see, Berta May said. Is it her?

  Yes. It must be.

  I don’t see no bicycle.

  Lorraine began to run, and Lyle ran after her. The women hurried after them. Lorraine was first and grabbed her up in her arms and lifted her up and swung her around and held her tight. She set her down. The girl was dirty and scared. Oh, are you all right? She looked closely into her face.

  Yes.

  You are, aren’t you?

  I got lost. I went out on a country road and it got dark and then I went the wrong way. A pickup came by and I went down in the ditch. I cut my tire on a bottle.

  Did the ones in the pickup bother you?

  No.

  They didn’t stop?

  No. I crawled under the fence and ran out in the field. But I left my bike there.

  Never mind, Lyle said. We’ll get it tomorrow.

  Oh God! I’m so glad you’re all right. Here’s your grandmother.

  The women had all hurried up. The girl went to Berta May and the old woman wrapped her in her arms.

  Oh my oh my oh my. Don’t you ever—

  The girl burst into tears.

  Don’t you ever do that again. Do you hear me?

  I’m sorry, Grandma. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.

  I’m not mad. You’re home now.

  I got lost.

  I know. But you’re here now. It’s all right.

  I saw the streetlights. That’s how I knew where to go. My bike’s still out there, Grandma.

  Oh I don’t care. I don’t care about nothing else. You came home by yourself, didn’t you. I turned the lights on. But you didn’t see them, did you.

  I saw the streetlights out in the country.

  The women stayed close around and they each hugged the girl in turn and cried over her and petted her dirty sunburned face.

  We better get you in the house, Berta May said. We got to get you cleaned up. Look at you. Lord, what a mess. I expect you can eat something too.

  You want me to bring over a plate of food from the house? Mary said.

  No, I had our supper cooked two hours ago.

  They walked back in the street to the house that was still lit up in the night and Berta May and the girl went inside. The others stood out on the sidewalk and watched, the lights were turned off one by one and the old house went dark again except at the back.

  We should go home too, Willa said. It’s time.

  Yes. Good night, Alene said.

  Lyle said good night and Lorraine put her arms around him and he got in his car and drove off and the Johnson women drove off toward the sandhills.

  Lorraine laced her arm through her mother’s arm and they went inside and turned on the lamp at Dad’s chair by the window so the light shone out into the side yard and then they went back to the kitchen and sat together at the table and drank coffee and talked a little very quietly.

  That was on a night in August. Dad Lewis died early that morning and the young girl Alice from next door got lost in the evening and then found her way home in the dark by the streetlights of town and so returned to the people who loved her.

  And in the fall the days turned cold and the leaves dropped off the trees and in the winter the wind blew from the mountains and out on the high plains of Holt County there were overnight storms and three-day blizzards.

  Acknowledgments

  The author wishes to thank Gary Fisketjon, Nancy Stauffer, Mark and Virginia Spragg, Mark and Kathy Haruf, Gabrielle Brooks, Carol Carson, Ruthie Reisner, Kathleen Fridella, Jim and Jane Elmore,
Peter and Jill Brown, Will Archuletta, Lura McKinley, Leslie Stockton, Rev. Andy Dunning, Rev. George Christie, Dr. Paul Ilecki, Rev. Saundra Nottingham, Sorel Haruf, Whitney Haruf, Chaney Haruf Matsukis, Jane Templeton, Virginia Davis, Heather Austin, and especially Cathy Haruf.

  ALSO BY KENT HARUF

  West of Last Chance

  (with photographer Peter Brown)

  Eventide

  Plainsong

  Where You Once Belonged

  The Tie That Binds

  A Note About the Author

  Kent Haruf’s honors include a Whiting Foundation Writers’ Award, the Mountains & Plains Booksellers Award, the Wallace Stegner Award, and a special citation from the PEN/Hemingway Foundation; he has also been a finalist for the National Book Award, the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, and The New Yorker Book Award. He lives with his wife, Cathy, in their native Colorado.

  Other titles available in eBook format by Kent Haruf:

  Eventide • 978-1-4000-4301-9

  Plainsong • 978-0-375-72693-4

  The Tie That Binds • 978-0-307-56064-3

  Where You Once Belonged • 978-0-307-80785-4

  Visit Kent Haruf: Facebook.com/KentHaruf

  For more information, please visit www.aaknopf.com