by Andrew Smith
Nickie drew a circle around my heart. I felt her face tighten into a smile. “What else could you do? You couldn’t leave. I had every bit of your clothes. Ander gave you some pajamas, and you stayed in our guest room. I pouted when you told me you were too shy to sneak out and come to my room with me while my parents were home. But I think you were most frightened that Ander would be on his sister’s guard.”
“I remember him now,” I said. “I’m sorry, Nickie. I know I shouldn’t be doing this to you. I’m so messed up, and I feel so guilty about everything, not being in control.”
“Shhh…,” she said, and pressed her finger onto my lips.
And I remembered how her brother had given me clothes and shoes, that the three of us had gone together for breakfast; and, later, how I’d told Nickie that I was afraid of things and, even though I didn’t want to, I had to leave. She didn’t understand. She started crying. And when I turned away to vanish into the Underground, I felt like crying, too, but Jack doesn’t cry; I’d gotten onto one train after another, just trying to get lost somewhere in the darkness and the crowds beneath the city.
And I knew that I’d gone to see Henry, too; that he was aware that Jack wasn’t really here. When I left him, I wandered around London overnight, aimlessly, until I came back to myself in the Green Park Station and phoned her.
She whispered, “Tell me how the story ends, Jack.”
You mean the one where Jack kills himself?
You won’t like it, Nickie.
“I don’t think this thing ever will end.”
“I mean the story about the boy. Seth. You promised you’d tell.”
“Okay.”
Fifty-One
SETH’S STORY [4]
I found paying work in Napa City loading freight every day except Sundays. I wasn’t as strong as the other fellows on the crew, but I tried hard, and got along with them, too. Of course, to be hired I had to lie about my age, but I didn’t consider it a genuine lie, since I was never absolutely certain how old I was by any account.
Still, I believe that Mr. Pursely, who ran the freight office, knew I wasn’t eighteen years old, because he did remark on a number of occasions how there wasn’t the first sign of a hair on my chin nor chest. But every day, following work, I would sneak off and sleep in the woods or in some quiet barn, since it was still warm enough in the year to allow for that.
The other boys I worked with knew I was living away from home like an orphan, but they never bothered me about it; and I always did manage to keep myself reasonably clean and properly fed. From time to time, they’d go down the river to San Francisco to commune with the whore-women; they would frequently urge me to accompany them, but I believed I was already too wicked and sinful in my own heart, and so begged them to tolerate my abstinence.
Of course, they would regularly tease me about my youthful purity, them not having any idea what a black and loathsome thing I truly was. But I would never miss a day of church, even though, for all I’d attend and focus my mind on the words of God, I could never feel that I had truly come any closer to the light.
In November, I took a room at the Sutton House, which was a nice family hotel where I once again enjoyed the comfort of sleeping in a bed and having access to regular baths, which, although lacking a great degree of privacy, compensated for that shortcoming with an abundance of hot water.
I owned two books: a Bible and a copy of Longfellow, and I read from each of them every day. Neither book provided much comfort. For while one reminded me nightly of my corruption, the other only recalled to my mind thoughts of Hannah. I ached so desperately for her that I would sometimes lie in bed and cry, especially on those cold and silent nights when my loneliness became a particular frailty. I missed every one of the Mansfields.
December brought the darkest rains; work became an unpleasant labor for me. I had not brought suitable clothing for such weather, and scarcely earned enough to pay my board. But I remember that it was on the twelfth of that month, when I had retired to my room following supper, that I lay in my bed reading Longfellow by the smoky light of a lantern, and there came an unexpected knocking on my door.
I pulled the blankets up over myself, unsuitably dressed as I was, and said, “Come in.”
And there, dripping in rainwater and coated to his knees in mud, stood my brother, Davey Mansfield.
He said, “Seth Braden Mansfield, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
At first, I scarcely recognized Davey, because the hat he wore hung so low across his brow; and his face was covered with a sparse amber beard, which I had never seen on him. But when I was certain it was him from the look in his eyes and sound of his voice, I tore the covers off from me and threw my arms around him.
“Davey!” I was overcome with happiness, having become so used to the drudgery of my sad life away from Pope Valley. Then I held him at arm’s length and said, “Is something wrong at home?”
And Davey said, “Hell yes, something’s wrong, Seth. Ma and Hannah are about sick to death from missing you, and Pa won’t even talk no more except to tell me what jobs I ain’t doing right enough to suit him.”
Davey just stood there, dripping in my open doorway. I sat on the bed, suddenly aware that in my attempt to spare the family my wickedness, I had inflicted some degree of harm to them.
“I didn’t mean to hurt no one,” I said. “I was afraid, Davey, of what I might do to you all if I didn’t leave. You have to believe that I wouldn’t ever do anything intentional to hurt Ma or Hannah, nor any of you.”
Davey sighed. I reckon that he understood well enough the forces that drove me away from that home, but I could see he was determined to bring me back and make some peace there, too.
“Well, you’re damned if you do or don’t, I figure,” he said. “But I came all this way looking for you and I aim to bring you back, too. So we can leave right now, or we can wait until the morning, either one that suits you is agreeable to me.”
I wondered how strange my life was, because here I was, these seven years later, giving Davey clean clothes to put on, just as Ma did for me the day the Mansfields took me in and made me their son. I brought him downstairs and Mrs. Sutton fed him, even though it was not a regular thing for her to do once her lodgers had all retired. But since he was my brother, she said she didn’t mind being put out; and told me he could sleep in my room, too, if he didn’t have any other place to rest.
And that night, just before I fell to sleep, Davey told me, “Seth, the time is not right for you and Hannah. Understand me, brother. You’re coming back home with me, and I aim to give Ma some rest in that. But you’re going to see to it that you act like a proper man, now, and wait for the time to be right. You’ll know it when it is. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
“I reckon I do.”
“Good night, then.”
The following morning, with my few belongings and one sturdy mule between us, Davey and I set off for Pope Valley in a light gray rain. It was Sunday, so I felt a particular foreboding about missing church; and my hands shook noticeably from my heart considering the prospect of touching Hannah once again.
I knew I was cursed.
The weather slowed our travel significantly, so it was nearly evening on Tuesday by the time we led that poor and tired mule into Pa’s barn. Davey could see the relief on my face, I think, as I looked around inside that familiar shelter; and I was half-expecting to see Hannah there, waiting for me. I could sense her so strongly that I believed my knees would give out.
In the house, Ma cried and hugged me tightly, getting herself all wet from my sodden clothes; and she praised Davey for saving me once again. But Hannah stood back in the hallway, just staring at me, and I could see the tears on her anguished face before she whirled around and ran upstairs to her room without saying a word to me.
Pa extinguished his cigarette and stood over the both of us, kissing me on my wet hair, and he said, “Seth Mansfield, I reckon you’ve got quite a stor
y to tell us about what you did, boy. Now run up and get some dry clothes on with your brother and Ma’ll set a supper for the two of you. I reckon you just about killed them both, Hannah and Ma, with worrying over you, son; maybe Davey, too, for tracking you down in this fierce cold.”
“I’m sorry, Pa,” I said, and followed Davey upstairs.
In the dark of the hallway, I stood outside Hannah’s door. Davey watched me. We both could hear her crying, and it made me feel terribly forlorn. I raised my hand to knock, and Davey said, “Don’t.”
So I put my hand down. And Davey held the door to our room open for me, and stood there, waiting for me to go inside.
Like he said, either way about it, I was damned.
At supper, Ma went and got Hannah so she could look at me. First, Davey seemed concerned when she hugged me around my neck and kissed me at least twenty times all over my cheeks and hair. Her lips and face were so wet from crying and it was all I could do to sit still and not put my mouth on hers and kiss her proper like I wanted to. My mouth watered for her tongue like I’d never been fed one time in my life. I turned red and shook, and was considerably attracted at that moment, and then Davey burst out hollering and laughing when his sister slapped me resoundingly across the back of my head and said, “Seth Mansfield, if you ever do a deed like that again, I’ll come hunt you down myself!”
And Pa said, “I reckon you don’t want to mess with that, boy.”
He lit a cigarette and sat at the table, watching his two boys eat.
And I was so flustered I could barely speak, but I set my fork down and looked at Hannah and said with a wavering and sorrowful voice, “I truly apologize, Hannah. I promise I will never leave again.”
Hannah blushed, but I don’t think anyone other than me noticed.
And that night, when Davey and I went up to go to bed, we both saw how Hannah was waiting, peeking out her door at us. Davey put his hand on my shoulder. It felt serious, and I knew what he was trying to say without words.
“You go on in, Seth. I’m going to have a talk with Hannah.”
I stood there, helplessly, and watched as Davey went in to his sister’s room and shut the door behind him.
By Christmas Day, things had gotten back to normal, and it was almost like I’d never been away at all. In the morning, we all rode in to Necker’s Mill and brought food to Uncle Teddy. We said prayers with him, and Pa allowed each of us to drink some hot cider, too. I enjoyed the drink, especially the way it made Ma and Hannah laugh and turn so red on their cheeks.
So before we left for home, Davey and I went out to get the wagon around for the family, while Pa stayed inside and smoked and had another drink with Uncle Teddy. I’d been waiting for days to get the chance to talk to Davey alone, but I just hadn’t worked up the backbone.
“I need to ask your permission to do something,” I said. “I’ve been making a present for Hannah and I want you to say it’s allowable to you that I give it to her.”
Davey said, “Why would I tell you no?”
“Well, I want to give it to her alone. Where it’s just her and me.”
He looked at me. I can’t say that Davey didn’t trust me, because our kinship went beyond that; and neither of us ever kept a secret from the other, which is why I asked him in the first place.
He let out a long breath of air. I watched it make a cloud in front of his face. “I expect you’re going to remember to act like a man, Seth.”
“Thank you, Davey.”
And that was all we said about it.
So while Ma prepared our dinner, the rest of us sat in front of the fire admiring the coats and hats we’d received as gifts, and Pa told us stories about Christmas when he was a boy. I was uneasy because I knew Davey kept watching me and Hannah; and I felt especially sinful, it being Christmas and all, with the thoughts that kept plaguing my mind about me and Hannah out by the river’s side last summer.
I finally worked up my nerve. I nudged Hannah’s foot with mine and cleared my throat. “I have a present for you, Hannah.”
“Well?” she said. And she watched me without blinking, which made me feel as though I would shrink to nothing under that stare.
“Well.” I looked at Pa, and then at Davey. “I don’t want no one else to see it until you do, in case you don’t like it.”
Pa shrugged. Hannah looked confused. Davey seemed like he was maybe about to hit me. But he said go do it, so I gave him a stare like he better just leave me and Hannah by ourselves a bit.
“Come on.” I pulled her up by her hand. “Put your coat on. I got it out in the barn.”
And without so much as glancing back at Davey one time, I led her out into the cold.
I lit a lantern in the barn.
I closed the door behind us.
Then I slid the bolt through the handles. I was so nervous, I couldn’t say anything, but I didn’t want to, either.
I couldn’t keep my hands away from her, she was so beautiful, and I had waited so long, tried to be good, but I didn’t care about anything else once we were shut inside and finally alone together. Her skin was so cold and smooth. It felt like glass to my lips.
Her mouth tasted of cider, it made me alive; and I twisted my fingers into her hair and pressed myself so tightly against her hips. In honesty, I felt weak enough at that moment that I would have unfastened my clothes and thrown them entirely off without regard, but I tried to think about Davey and the family, so I softened my pull on her and held my face away.
“I love you so much, Hannah.”
“Oh God, Seth. I thought I would die when you left.”
She began crying, and I felt a tear in my eye at that moment, too, so I held her close and smelled her beautiful hair.
“Don’t cry,” I said. “I really do have something for you, my Hannah.”
“I don’t want for anything but you, Seth.”
“Look.”
I led her over to the work table by Pa’s vice and anvil.
“I made this for you.”
I’d carved a toy horse for her from walnut wood—a gray Appaloosa with black mane and glossy, striped hooves. The paint had just finished drying. It was slightly bigger than my hand; and I’d fashioned a kind of wheel from one of Ma’s thread spools between his back legs by fastening a strand of rubber there. I showed her that if you pulled it backwards and let go of him, the horse would roll forward a few inches, and then, just when he’d stop, his front legs would rear up and stamp down three times.
Roll.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Hannah laughed, and put her hands to her face.
“Seth!” she said. “This is the most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen!”
I didn’t say anything. I only could watch her, I was so mesmerized by the look of wonder on her lovely face.
“Can I try him?”
I held my hand over hers and dragged the toy backwards along the surface of the table.
“Now, let go of him,” I said. My lips were right against her ear, and I purposely caught a strand of her hair in my mouth.
Roll.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She laughed again, so lightly, and then she threw her arms around me. We kissed.
Awkwardly, overwhelmed by my weakness, we nervously fumbled at each other’s clothing and fell, tangled together, onto the floor right at our feet.
We brushed the dirt from one another’s hair, hurrying, breathless; and Hannah clutched the horse to her breast beneath the folds of her coat, while I lowered the mantle on the barn lamp. We kissed once more, swearing our love forever, and crossed the muddy yard back to the house in the rain.
And I felt like the most horrid and contemptible animal when we all sat down to Christmas dinner together. Pa said grace, and I believed it was going to cause my heart to stop on the spot because I knew I had allowed the devil inside of me. But Hannah shined and gleamed in her contentment, that little painted horse resting on the table between her and Davey, while she slid her foo
t across the floor and placed it so softly atop mine.
When I lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, I was overcome by my sinfulness. I felt certain that Davey was lying awake as well, that he was watching me, disgusted at my vileness, because he had to have known what I did to his sister out there in the barn. I was relieved he didn’t ask me about it, too, because if he did, I would have confessed to him that I was weak again and could not stop myself from being with her.
I knew I would go to hell for it. But I decided that I’d rather go to hell for being Hannah’s lover than go to heaven for not.
This is how it would be from then on.
I became resigned to my impurity.
The summer after we celebrated my sixteenth birthday was a turning point in all of our lives, I suppose. Davey got married; Pa and I helped build a house for him and his wife, just across the pasture from our own. And once Davey left, it was easier for Hannah and me to be together.
She was such a beautiful young woman at seventeen.
Sometimes, in our wickedness, she would steal into my bedroom in the middle of the night, and we would sleep together, saying promises, holding each other until the morning without anyone knowing. And I suppose that it was only destined to happen, in my cursedness, but in the second month following my birthday, Hannah informed me she was certain that she was carrying my child.
Of course, that was the most vivid day in my memory for a number of reasons.
On that day, Ma and Pa had gone visiting to Davey’s, and I worked at stacking the pressed hay we’d purchased for the milk cows, sweating from the heat up in the haymow while Hannah watched me. When she said that she was pregnant, I had to stop what I was doing so I could sit down.
I wiped my face with my hand and ladled drinking water from a pail into my mouth, letting it spill down my chest, inside the overalls I wore.
“How can you be sure?” I said.
“I just know, Seth. I can tell.”
I will admit that hearing her tell me about it brought a certain dizziness to my head. And I looked at her to judge the weight of what she was saying, but Hannah seemed to be happier than she’d ever been since I’d known her. I wasn’t sure how I felt, even if I did recognize the thing was bound to happen after how recklessly we’d been carrying on.
