Face the Winter Naked (33 page)

He
nodded, unable to face her. "I know there ain't a hateful bone in your
body, and I'll try to explain. But it won't be easy."

"And
explain about your Army friends. Frankie. Woody."

"Huh?
How do you know about them?" He pulled off his glasses, breathed steam on
them and wiped them with his shirttail before putting them back on.

"And
the medals, the war wounds. When you didn't come back, I opened your closet and
snooped. Now I know why you flinched when I touched your shoulder a certain
way. You don't have to hide all that from me anymore."

"Some
things will be hard to talk about," he said. "I have to make you
understand what happened." Then he smiled. "It's enough to be home. If
I learned anything by leaving, it's that life has no purpose without love, and
love has no home without family." She started to interrupt, but he stopped
her. "I thought I could earn enough money so I wouldn't be ashamed to come
home." Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, eyes grown older and wiser
over the last year. "But the love of my family is all the gold I
need." She waited for him to continue.

"A
lot's happened to both of us." He glanced at the truck again and saw Chris
watching. "First I have to tell you I know what happened here. With Clay,
and Ida."

"You—you
know? How?"

"I
read it in a newspaper, in Kan' City. Decided it was way past time for this old
bum to stop feeling sorry for himself and come back home. I stopped uptown to
see the sheriff before coming out here."

She
choked up and began to whimper. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her
close, feeling the warmth of the soft body he'd missed those many months.

"Don't
talk now. There's plenty of time." He breathed deeply, taking in her
earthy scent. "Clay's not going to hurt you anymore, LaDaisy." He
stroked her hair and pulled her head down on his shoulder while she cried
herself dry. They sat, the two of them, clinging to each other for dear life.

LaDaisy
looked over his shoulder toward the truck and raised her head.

"Oh!
There's someone out there—a boy." She pulled away and looked at Daniel.
"Wonder where he came from."

He
released her and they both rose. "That's Chris," Daniel said.
"He's homeless. No, that's not exactly right. He has a home, but for a lot
of reasons, he can't live there."

"An
orphan, then?"

"No,
he has a family, but they're in dire straits. Too many mouths to feed, so he
took to the streets." Then he grinned. "I think you'll like him. He
kind of grows on a person. In fact, if he hadn't been with me these last few
weeks, I don't know what might've happened to me."

"You
serious?"

"Dead
serious. He gave me something to live for till I could come home."

"I
don't understand."

He
didn't want to tell her yet. He needed time to sort out his thoughts. But she
was waiting, and he'd already hurt this woman enough. There was no earthly
purpose in not explaining about the nightmares. He hesitated a moment, then
plunged in, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Do
you remember all them bad dreams I used to have?"

"Nightmares?"

"I
tried to hide them from you. But I always thought maybe you'd figured out what
was happening to me. Remember when I used to get up and walk around outdoors at
night?" He waited while she thought it over. "You remember?"

Then
she nodded. "Yes. I couldn't understand why you did that. You wouldn't
answer when I asked."

"I
was ashamed if you saw me cry."

"You
cried? Why?"

"Because
grown men don't cry, honey. Most of them don't."

She
reached out and touched his hand. "What are tears for if we can't use
them? Doesn't matter if we're men or women, Daniel. God made tears." She
paused. "What was happening to you then? Can you tell me now?"

"I'll
tell you more later," Daniel said. "But for now, just understand I
reached a low point. It wasn't nothing you did. It was the war."

"The
war? So long ago? How?"

"The
nightmares," he went on. "They wouldn't stop. The faces of my dead
friends wouldn't go away."

"Oh
... God," she whispered.

He
gazed off into the distance and thought he saw his buddies all lined up in a
row, with an officer pinning medals to each man's shirt.

"What
th—?"

LaDaisy
touched him. "Daniel? You okay?"

He
snapped back to reality as the vision dissolved, his heart pounding so hard he
thought it would jump out of his chest. He turned to her with tears in his
eyes.

"I'm
okay. Just thought I saw something for a second."

"I'm
sorry about the bad dreams," she said. "Are you over them now?"

He
shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. Can you stand me getting
up in the night again, or screaming? I never know when they might come back.
Sometimes lately they ain't been so bad. Since I met Chris." He glanced
out across the yard to where the boy waited. "I can't talk about this
anymore right now, LaDaisy. I've got too many things coming at me at once, and
I ain't as young as I used to be. The last year turned me into an old
man." He sighed. "But we'll talk. Since I started it now, it has to
come out."

He
motioned for Chris. The boy hesitated, then started walking up the driveway. He
stopped a few feet away and stared at the woman on the porch.

"Who
is he?" she asked. "Where'd you find him?"

"Springfield.
He was living on the streets. I couldn't allow that, so I brought him with
me."

"There's
a lot I don't understand. Tell him to come over here. Is he afraid of me?"

"He
might be." He swung his arm in a wide arc, motioning for Chris again.
"It's okay, Chris, come on." He turned back to his wife. "Go
gentle with him. He's not used to kindness."

"Should
I take that as a compliment?"

"You've
been kind to me many times when I didn't deserve it. To my dad and my sisters.
I know who you are and what you are."

"Well,
I ..."

"That's
more than your own family's done."

Chris
took his time coming to the porch, and she went down the steps to meet him.

"I'm
LaDaisy," she said. "Daniel tells me your name's Chris."

"Yeah."
Chris's face flushed, and all the bluster drained out of him. He stroked the
banjo's long neck, back and forth, back and forth. Though he tried to hide
them, his emotions were showing as she walked with him to the porch.

"Don't
be shy," Daniel said. "If it's all right with my wife, this is going
to be your home for a while. Unless you want to go back to Springfield with
your folks." He already knew the answer.

"No.
I'm not going back there, Shine—I mean Daniel."

"Shine?"
LaDaisy turned to Daniel. "Who's that?"

"He's
nobody. It's just my Army nickname."

"You
never told me that."

"Didn't
think I had a reason."

She
held his eyes a moment, then shook her head.

"Well,
leave the boy alone. Give him room to think." She smiled at Chris.
"Can you play that banjo?"

"Some.
It ain't mine, it belongs to the banjo man, but I didn't steal it."

LaDaisy
glanced at Daniel. He grinned, and she spoke to Chris again.

"Bet
you're hungry. Why don't you come in the house and I'll see what there is to
eat." She pointed toward the back of the house. "There's an outhouse
back there if you need it. When you're done, just come in the back door and wash
up."

Chris
handed the banjo to Daniel and disappeared around the house.

"Cute
kid," LaDaisy said. "Lots of youngins leaving home too early these
days."

"Not
much else they can do when their families are busted up. Chris thinks he's
tough, but I know better. I've seen the scared little kid inside of him. He's
been hurt bad, LaDaisy, and gone hungry." He added thoughtfully, "I'm
going to see if I can get custody of him. If it's all right with you, I mean.
He'll try to bullshit you. He's a good boy, a little wild, but I've been trying
to tame him." He turned to her and grinned. "The little turd picked
my pocket first time I met him."

LaDaisy's
eyes widened. "Really. What did you do?"

"What
would you expect me to do? I gave his behind a good shellacking. He won't steal
anymore."

Standing
and talking about spanking and banjos was almost like old times. Daniel knew it
would take a while before LaDaisy warmed up to him. It'd be like courting her
all over again. But for the first time since walking in the yard, he felt hope.

"Who's
the banjo man?"

"Name's
George. He's an old hobo I met on my travels. He gave me this here banjo when
we parted company. Probably dead now." He paused a minute. "I been
bumming around, LaDaisy girl. I've seen too many pitiful sights. People
starving, with their own stomachs eating themselves up." He shook his
head. "I ain't the same man who left his family." He hung his head.
"That man was a coward who didn't appreciate what he had. Money? I thought
I left home to earn money for my family. But it was just an excuse. A brave man
sticks around and works things out."

Before
she could reply, a child's cry came from inside the house.

Daniel
turned to the door. "You said the kids were gone."

"That's
Mary."

"Mary?"
He remembered the clothesline full of baby things. "Whose, yours?"

"Of
course she's mine! My sister went home. What did you think? Now excuse me."

"Wait!"
He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "What I think is—"

"If
you'll turn my damned arm loose, Daniel Tomelin, I'll go get her and you can
see for yourself whose baby she is!"

But
he held firmly and looked her right in the eye, all the while his suspicions
cutting his heart in little pieces.

"Is
she ... Clay Huff's?"

"You
son-of-a-bitch!"

Before
he could stop her, she hauled off and hit him in the jaw.

"Hey
now, you little wildcat!" He released her and rubbed his face. "You
got no call hitting me like that. You can't blame me for wondering."

"You
ask for it!"

"What's
come over you?"

She
got in his face and hissed. "What's come over
me
? I should've
finished you off when I had the chance!" From inside the house, Mary
screamed. "Do you take me for a—a slut?"

"No,"
he said. "That ain't it. I know you're a good woman. I just thought for a
minute, oh never mind. Go tend your baby."

"
Your
baby!"

With
that, she gave him a murderous look and stormed into the house.

The
screen door now needed new hinges.

Daniel
went to his truck, walked around it, stooped down and looked under it—anything
to keep him from going inside to see that baby. He simply could not believe it
wasn't Clay's child. He checked the tires and the headlamps. The lights would
be out, the battery long dead. But the tires should get him downtown to see
about getting his job back. A little tinkering here and there, and the Ford
would be drivable again.

He
counted on his fingers, from the time he'd left home to the present. Nine
months for a baby. He recalled the last time he'd had relations with his wife—and
how his bumbling had messed everything up. How guilty he'd felt when he left
her unsatisfied. He counted his fingers some more. Yes, from that date, it was
entirely possible—and one of the reasons he'd left in the first place was to
prevent another pregnancy.

"Goddammit,
everything I touch turns to crap!" He yanked off his cap and hurled it
through the air with all his might. "She ain't never going to forgive me for
putting her through all that." He removed his glasses, held them up to the
light and saw scratches on the lenses. There were scratches and scars on his
life, as well.

He
swung around as someone shouted from the road. Running down the street were
three small figures, waving their arms and screaming, "Daddy's home!
Daddy's home!" Behind them, an old man tried to keep up.

Daniel
hurried to meet them.

"Daddy!
Daddy!"

He
sat down in the dying fall grass and weeds, his arms flung out to catch them.
In one delirious moment, they threw themselves at him. He fell over backwards,
laughing and crying. His glasses fell off. Someone put them back on his face.
Surrounded by his children, he looked up to see his dad.

"I
told LaDaisy you were coming," Saul chuckled. "She didn't believe me."

His
father hadn't changed a bit.

"I'm
glad you were here," Daniel said. "I got a lot to make up for."