Pages of Promise (31 page)
“Don’t say that!” Carmen said sharply. She looked up, and he saw her eyes were filled with unshed tears. She looked away, and he said softly, “I’m sorry, Carmen. Anybody would like Tom. He’s that kind of a man.”
“I have no right to like him now. He has a wife, and he’s the kind of man that will stick to her no matter what.”
“That’s good to hear. I’d hate to think of my sister married to any other kind.”
They talked for a long time, and she spoke of her fears for her children and for her future. They were sitting close together, looking out the window from time to time at the snow that was at last beginning to melt. The sadness in the young woman touched Stephen. He had not felt compassion for anyone for a long time. She seemed as thoroughly alone in the world as if there were no other thing alive on the planet. All her search for color and warmth, for the comfort of a husband’s closeness, had ended with a great solitariness. She had a curtain of reserve that she drew about her, but Stephen felt that behind that curtain was a woman of great vitality and imagination. She had pride, too, that could sweep her violently and send up a blaze in her eyes. He sought for some way to tell her of his feeling and said, “I think you’ll be all right. You’re too pretty a woman, and too fine, not to find someone who’ll care for you.”
Shocked by his words, Carmen looked up. The tears made her eyes seem larger and darker, and her black hair, as black as the darkest night, framed her pale face. “Do you think so?” she whispered.
He reached over, took her hand, and held it. It was strong, stronger than his own now, and he put his other hand over it, saying, “Sure, you’ll come out all right.”
Carmen thought about that for a moment, then she pulled her hand back gently and her words were toneless. “Things never come out all right.”
“Don’t believe that,” he said quickly. “You’ve got children. You need to have hope for them.”
“Do you have hope?”
Her question caught Stephen off guard. “Not much,” he said finally, “but I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t have a little. I made an absolute, utter wreck out of my life. I had everything, Carmen. Everything. But I threw it all away. Now, I guess I’m looking for something to hold onto.”
“Like what?” she inquired curiously.
“I don’t know, but I know that life has to mean something; at least it seems to for some people.”
Carmen thought of Granny and nodded slowly. “For some people, but not for me.”
Again he spoke quickly, “I don’t like to hear you talk like that. You’re young and pretty, and for some man you’ll have everything.” He saw her face change as he spoke and was unable to identify the change. His words pleased her, but still there was a caution in her, and he thought,
She’s been so hurt
and cut up she’s afraid to trust anybody. And why should she trust
me—a failure and an ex-con.
He watched as she rose and left the room, then he sat back in his chair thinking for a long time about her and about her children. He was surprised that he had the capacity to think of someone else instead of pitying himself, and this pleased him and made him feel more alive than he had for a long time.
“Well, I’ll tell you, missy,” Logan Stuart said, smiling at Carmen. “If you ever decide to go into the nursing business, you can take over my case.”
Carmen liked Logan. He was a cheerful old man who had lived a full life and was now a widower but was not bitter. The two of them had something in common—being alone. She laughed, saying, “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re healthy as a horse.”
“Even horses get sick,” Logan said, winking at her. “Is Stephen up?”
“He’s playing checkers with Enrique.” She thought for a moment, then nodded, a pleased expression in her eyes. “They get along very well. Stephen has a way with him, and Consuela, too. Just like . . .”
Logan knew she had almost said, “Just like Tom,” but he knew also why she broke off her speech. “Reckon I’ll go in and see him,” he said. “Before I leave maybe you’ll let me have some of that raisin pie.”
“How do you know I’ve got any?”
“You always have some stashed away.”
“All right. I do have one piece left. I hate to waste it on you, though.”
Logan grinned, then went to Stephen’s room, where he found a checker game in full progress.
“I’ll take on the winner,” he said.
“That’s me,” Enrique grinned. “I’ve won the last two games.”
Stephen winked at the older man, “Won ’em fair and square, too.”
Logan leaned back and watched the two players with pleasure. Enrique’s face glowed with excitement, and he slammed the checkers down every time he jumped a man, making the board bounce. When he won the game, he jumped around and said, “I win! Three times in a row!”
“Well, we’ll try again later,” Stephen said. “You run along while I talk to Mr. Stuart.”
When the boy was out of the room, Logan said, “You’re lookin’ good, Stephen.”
“I’m feeling better. I’m going to try and get out a little bit tomorrow my nurse says.”
“Listen to your nurse. That woman knows a heap. Got a head full of sense—and pretty as a speckled pup.”
“Yes, she’s pretty, and more than pretty.”
Logan had thought to tease Stephen, but he was pleased with the answer anyway.
“Yes,” Stephen continued, “she is an attractive woman, but it’s more than that. I admire the way she’s stuck with her kids instead of just throwing up her hands.”
“You get along good with that boy, don’t you?”
“I guess I do. I’ve never been around kids much, but it’s been easy with Enrique. Maybe,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, “because I was weak as a sick kitten. He came in here and sat down and we’d talk. It was like he was the older one,” he said with a grin.
“I think he misses Tom,” Logan said. “He was always taking the boy hunting or fishing.”
“He’s already been after me about that,” Stephen said, “but I haven’t been hunting or fishing since I was a kid—summers when you and Clint and Dad and I went—remember?”
“Sure I do. Anytime you want to go fishin’ I gotta pond full of bluegills and bass. That pecan orchard out there is full up with squirrels that oughta be shot and et. Bring the boy over. We’ll have a good time.”
Logan left, repeating his invitation, and almost at once Consuela came in and sat down across from Stephen. Her lips were pulled tightly together in a line, and her face was discontented.
“What’s wrong, Consuela?” Stephen asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on now. I know better than that. Where’s that smile?”
“I don’t have any smiles.”
“I bet you smile for your friends.” Stephen was less comfortable with Consuela than with Enrique. He couldn’t play dolls with her, but he had discovered that she, too, liked to play board games, especially Monopoly, and they’d had several bloodthirsty contests in which her dark eyes had flashed with competitive spirit. Stephen said, “Tell me about your friends at school.”
“I don’t have any friends.” Consuela’s lips trembled and she said, “They make fun of me because I’m different.”
Shocked by the girl’s vulnerability, Stephen said quietly, “You want to tell me about it? Come over here and sit beside me.” He was surprised when she came at once and sat down in the chair beside him. He put his arm around her and squeezed her and said, “Now, tell me all about it. Sometimes it’s good to say things out loud.”
Consuela began to speak. “I don’t have any friends. The girls all get together and they leave me out. Some of them call me a Spick. I told them I’m not a Spick. I’m Cuban.” Her shoulders began to shake, and Stephen had not the slightest idea of what to say to a brokenhearted eight-year-old girl.
“Well,” he said, “I don’t have any friends either. So maybe you and I can be friends.”
Instantly Consuela turned and said, “You’re always playing with Enrique, but you never pay any attention to me.”
“That’s because I’m a little bit embarrassed around young ladies. I know how to get along with boys, but I’m not so good with girls.”
“I bet you are,” Consuela said.
“I’ll get better, so maybe we can be best friends.” Carmen had told him this expression was current among kids at school, and the effect on Consuela was amazing.
“Yes,” she said, “me and you. You’ll be my best friend.”
“Okay. How about if best friends have a game of Monopoly?”
Carmen had come to the door and stopped. Neither Stephen or Consuela had seen her, and she witnessed the scene silently. As the two began to set up the board, she bit her lip and shook her head. Stephen had managed to break through the barrier to Consuela that she herself had difficulty with. Carmen went in, greeted them, and sat and watched as they played, and she noted how Consuela blossomed with Stephen’s attention. A smile came to Carmen’s lips then, and her eyes grew soft as she watched them.
B
y mid-December, most of the snow had melted away. Stephen had become strong enough to move around comfortably outside, and he even made several relatively long walks into the woods. On Saturday morning, he ventured out accompanied by Enrique and Consuela. The children showed him their favorite hideouts, the creek, the tracks of various kinds of animals. When they returned, Carmen scolded them—all three. “You should not make Mr. Stuart walk so far. I ought to take a switch off the peach tree to you!”
“It’s all right, Carmen,” Stephen said, quickly moving to put his hands on the children’s shoulders. The three were bundled up in heavy clothes, and Stephen’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright from the exercise. “They had to show me the creek where Enrique caught the big bass last summer.”
Carmen tried to appear strict. “You let them do anything with you, Stephen! You spoil them to death!”
“No, I don’t. I just let them do what they want to, and that way they’re real good.”
She could not keep from laughing. She slapped at his arm and shook her head in mock disgust. “Go on in and help Granny. You promised to help her peel potatoes.”
“Don’t forget, Stephen, I mean Mr. Stuart,” Enrique piped up. “You promised to let us take you for a ride on the horse this afternoon.”
“He is not riding any horse! Not today!”
“Aw, Mom. He wants to,” Enrique whined.
“I don’t care what he wants, it’s not good for him. Now, you go do your homework, and Consuela, you go clean up your room. It looks like a pigsty.”
As the children scurried off, Stephen pulled off his coat and hung it on the peg beside the front door. “We had a great time,” he said. “I wish you had been with us.”
“I’m glad you did.”
He started for the kitchen but turned and smiled. He had a good smile. “Maybe you can ride the horse with me,” he suggested.
Carmen frowned and shook her head. “I’ve never been on a horse in my life. I don’t have any riding clothes.”
“Wear those nice jeans. They fit you real well,” he said. “They’re just as good as anything, and wear that blue shirt I like. You may have to hold me on the horse. I haven’t ridden in a long time.”
“All right.” Carmen smiled. “Tomorrow we’ll do it.”
“No, today.”
She could refuse him nothing, it seemed. “All right, Stephen, today.”
“Good.” He went over and took her hand, and she looked up with surprise. “I don’t want much,” he said blandly, “just my own way.”
Carmen giggled. It was something that had come over her lately. Stephen had a quick wit that flashed out and always amused her. She pulled her hand back and said, “Get along with you now and peel those potatoes.”
Moving into the kitchen, Stephen picked up a paring knife, sat down on a stool, fished a potato out of a bucket, and began peeling it.
“Watch what you’re doin’! You’re cuttin’ them peelin’s too thick! They’re supposed to be thin!” Granny said sharply.
Granny was one of the most fascinating persons he had ever encountered, and he could listen to her tell stories by the hour, mostly stories of her childhood. Apparently she had a photographic memory and never forgot anything. Her relationship with Jesus Christ, he had quickly found, was the most important thing in her life, and he had already committed himself to going to church with her. As he peeled potatoes, he began to question her about what went on in her church. “Do people shout at your church?”
“Not like they used to. Oh, when I was a girl I seen ’em shout. Methodist people. There was a preacher called Sam Perry. He was a Wesleyan Methodist, and he would preach sanctification. He preached on snuff one time, and nearly everybody threw their snuff away, and the people would shout. Oh, they would shout, Stephen!” Then she shook her head sadly, saying, “The church ain’t strong as it used to be in that line. Kind of drifted back. All the churches have gone off. People had church back when I was growin’ up. They don’t live the good life like they used to. Too high-minded.”
The two talked until all the potatoes were peeled, and Granny said, “I got me a feelin’ about you, Stephen boy. I think God’s going to get you good one of these days.”
Stephen stared at the old woman. She was thin and worn, but her eyes were bright as diamonds. “Well, Granny, I think it would take God himself to do anything with me.”
In the afternoon, Carmen came to Stephen, who was reading in his room. “Well, are we going to ride that horse or not?”
Stephen grinned and got up. “We’ll be like Dale and Roy,” he said, pulling his coat out of the closet and slipping into it.
“Put your hat on. The one with earmuffs. You’ll freeze out there.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stephen said mockingly.
Enrique and Consuela were jumping up and down, and they all made their way out to the barn, where one of the young men, Tiny Jeeter, brought the old mare out. She was fat and beyond anything more than a short gallop. “How do I get on?” Carmen said.
“Just get on the chopping block,” Enrique said. Carmen stood on it, balanced precariously. “Just take the reins, then throw your leg over her back.”
Awkwardly, Carmen did, and then Tiny set Enrique and Consuela behind her.
“Not room for me. You ride a spell, and then I’ll try it,” Stephen said.
