Running Barefoot (26 page)

I’d made rolls that morning before church, letting them rise while we went to the service. I had marinated chicken breasts for my dad to grill, and we’d added some hot dogs for the kids. I’d thrown a big green salad together from my garden and made my dad’s favorite tangy potato salad. Chips, watermelon, and root beer rounded out the simple meal, and I was putting tablecloths over the picnic tables we had set up in the backyard when Don, Nettie, and Samuel arrived.

Every woman, including both the pregnant and the uppity, ogled Samuel when he walked into the backyard. He still wore his slacks and dress shirt from church, but he’d taken off his tie, undone the top two buttons, and rolled up his sleeves. He was brown and muscular and his coloring made a stark contrast to all the fair hair and freckles. He carried lemon squares. I sighed in defeat. I had all the ingredients for a double chocolate cake with butter cream frosting in my kitchen. I would just have to whip it up when everyone went home. The thought cheered me, and I went forward to graciously take the lemon squares from Samuel’s hands.

The food was set out, the blessing given on the dinner, and people were digging in before I got a chance to sit down for a minute. The tables were filled with my siblings and their families, so I settled myself on the steps leading from the back door and picked at my plate. I was never very hungry when I cooked ... it must be all the nibbling and testing along the way. Samuel’s shadow soon hung over me.

“Can I sit?”

I scootched over and made ample room.

“This is good food.” Samuel’s voice was polite and formal, and I searched for something to say after the obvious ‘thank you.’

“I remember Johnny from school. He was in a couple of my classes. The kids are nieces and nephews, obviously, but I don’t recognize any of the women, and I don’t know which of your older brothers is which.”

I pointed people out, naming them, organizing them into family groups, telling a little something about everyone.

“Tonya seems tense.” Samuel indicated with his head to where Ricky, Jacob’s oldest, was chasing Matty around Tonya’s chair. Tonya’s four-year-old Bailey was sitting on her lap, shrieking with excitement.

“She isn’t great with kids.” I laughed a little as Tonya let out a panicked “Jaaaarrreeed!”

Just then we were interrupted by Ryan, Jacob’s six-year-old, hollering from around the side of the house.

“Aunt Josie! Ya got company!” He came around the house, holding a bouquet of brightly colored helium balloons so large that he was in danger of being lifted into the air. Trailing behind him were Kasey’s parents, Brett and Lorraine Judd. Lorraine, bless her pea-pickin’ heart, was carrying a huge, triple-layer, chocolate cake.

“Happy birthday, Josie!” Lorraine sang out. I ran to greet them, putting my arms around Brett and getting a big bear hug in return.

“I know chocolate cake is your favorite…I hope you haven’t eaten dessert already!” Lorraine said brightly.

“Oh, Lorraine, I love you,” I breathed, euphoric. “I’m hiding this cake in the kitchen so it won’t get devoured. I’m not sharing!” She laughed with me and looped her arm around my waist as I took the cake from her hands and passed it off to Rachel with explicit instructions to “keep it away from Johnny!”

“So how are you, Josie? I’ve been meaning to swing by the beauty shop, but just haven’t had a minute.”

“I’m okay...”

“Coach Judd!” Johnny came striding up, clasping Brett’s hand in a guy handshake thing. Quick pats on the back in a half hug completed the greeting.

Everyone called out their hellos, and soon Lorraine and Brett were being introduced to Samuel.

“I remember you,” Coach Judd said, squinting up at Samuel. “I had you in my P.E. class your senior year. You were a good athlete, a heck of a runner. I was hoping we’d get you to sign up for track. Did you ever end up becoming a Marine like you planned?”

“Yes Sir,” Samuel replied in answer, and Brett clapped him on the back. “Well done then - good for you.”

Lorraine was looking from Samuel to me with something akin to hurt in her eyes. I perceived the direction of her thoughts and felt a twinge of guilt. The guilt was followed by a flash of irritation. I hadn’t dated even once since Kasey died; I hadn’t wanted to. But Kasey had been gone for more than four years. I wondered if Lorraine thought I had a new boyfriend. The thought made me feel a little sick at heart.

When Kasey was killed, the shockwaves had echoed throughout the community with unparalleled intensity. He was very popular in school and well liked by everyone who knew him. The football team had his number retired, put his name on their helmets the following school year, and the football from the first win of the season had been given to Coach Judd in his name.

The Levan church was too small to seat the number of people expected at his funeral service. His family had to hold it at a much bigger church in Nephi where the chapel could be opened up into the gymnasium to accommodate huge numbers of people. There were no empty seats and many people had to stand throughout the two hour service. The line for his viewing extended all the way out and around the church, lasting for hours. I had stood in the line with the family, hugging sobbing friends and neighbors, enduring the endless ridiculous questions and comments of “How are you, Josie?” and “He’s in a better place now.” I spent the viewing wishing the non-stop stream of mourners and sympathizers both curious and sincere, would just, please, go away.

The shock and sorrow was enormous, the sensationalism of small town drama almost cloying. It had been truly awful. Afterwards, every day that I did not grieve for Kasey felt like a betrayal. Everyone wanted to keep him alive; Kasey’s grave was always adorned with flowers, little notes from friends, photos, and stuffed animals. Even four years later, friends and loved ones visited his grave regularly. Kasey was still a priority in his mother’s heart, the grief very fresh. I wondered if it would always be that way. I thought of all this as I studied Lorraine’s pretty face. She was an attractive blonde in her late forties, but the strain of losing a child had aged her face prematurely, and she had a weariness around her eyes that had not been there before Kasey’s death.

“We’ve just been up to Kasey’s grave, Josie,” Lorraine said a little too loudly. Brett’s conversation with Samuel trailed off awkwardly. “We knew he’d want us to stop by and wish his girl a happy birthday.” She patted my arm, but her eyes were on Samuel’s face. Samuel looked at me, his face smooth and expressionless. He excused himself politely and wandered over to where his grandparents were visiting with Jacob and Rachel.

Lorraine prattled on for another half an hour, staying close to my side. Brett had eventually gone to talk football with my brothers, and I was alone with Lorraine, wishing I knew what to say to comfort her. She didn’t ask me about Samuel. There was nothing to tell if she did, but I was grateful all the same. Eventually, she ran out of steam and gave me a quick hug, telling me she’d be sure and stop by the shop this week. I really hoped she wouldn’t and felt guilty all over again.

After Brett and Lorraine left, my head was aching and it didn’t look like my brothers and their families were going anywhere soon. Sheila had fallen asleep in the lawn chair in the shade of the huge maple. The kids were playing a relatively quiet game of duck, duck, goose. Tonya had roped Rachel into conversation about the latest book on child psychology and discipline techniques, and Rachel was holding her sleeping two-year-old son while still managing to cross stitch. Nettie fanned herself contentedly, and Samuel and Don were being included in the debate about the new football season.

I needed to get out. I crept around the house and out the front, snagging a book and my bicycle on the way out. I couldn’t ride the baby blue bike of my childhood anymore, but I had a big goofy bike with large round wheels, handlebars like a Texas Longhorn, and a basket on the front. It made me laugh because it looked like something an English lady would ride through the countryside. It suited me. I breathed as I made my escape and pedaled quickly down the road, winding my way down and over to the cemetery. The sun was dipping low in the west, and the breeze was just light enough to be pleasant.

I went to my mom’s grave first, pulling the long grass around the stone and brushing off the stray leaves and debris. I liked the feel of her name beneath my fingers. I talked to her a minute, told her how I was, that I missed her, and then made my way over to Kasey’s headstone. His parents had purchased the biggest marker they could afford - it was glossy and ornate with ‘Our Beloved Son’ centered across the top. They’d had a picture of Kasey embossed in the stone, so that everyone who visited the grave could see the handsome youthfulness smiling from his happy face. You would have to be made of granite not to feel something when you saw him, not to feel the enormous tragedy of our loss. He had been so alive and bright and beautiful . . . and his picture only captured a tiny piece of his magic. It hurt to look at him, and I brushed my hand in regret over his image before walking to the other side where I wouldn’t have to see his face as I read.

I had only been lost in Baroness Orczy’s
The Elusive Pimpernel
for mere minutes when I saw him approaching. Samuel made his way respectfully through the headstones, never stepping over, walking around and down as he made his way to me. I remembered what his grandmother had taught him about anything associated with the dead being somewhat feared among the Navajo. I didn’t know if that was true so much anymore, but wondered at Samuel coming here all the same.

He stopped when he was a few feet away. I sat on the east side of Kasey’s marker, sheltered from the sun. Samuel was facing the setting sun and had to turn his face a little to look at me. He squatted down and found relief in the shade of the monument. I thought he would ask me if I were okay or one of those things that people usually say when nothing else seems appropriate. Instead he just sat with me, not speaking, looking around at the stones, embracing the quiet. It was I who finally spoke.

“That was a little strange back at the house.” I struggled to find words to explain without assuming an interest he may not feel. “I was engaged to Lorraine and Brent’s son Kasey. He was killed in a car accident three weeks before our wedding. It’s been over four years, but for them, and sometimes for me, it seems like yesterday.”

“My grandmother told me.” He didn’t expound further, and I wondered what exactly Nettie had told him and when. I decided it didn’t matter.

“My father’s buried here. Right over there.” He pointed back in the direction he had come. “My grandparents brought me to see his grave when I first came here eleven years ago. I’d never seen it before. I’ve never been back until today.” The silence was heavy around us.

“Does it make you feel better to come here?” He asked solemnly, his black eyes bottomless as they trained in on my own.

I started to answer in the affirmative, and then couldn’t. I didn’t know if I felt better when I came here. Often I felt fresh pain and a sense of timelessness that kept me rooted in the past. My mother’s grave had once been a quiet place for comfort and reflection. I didn’t know if Kasey’s resting place provided the same solace. Guilt had my stomach churning, and I wished Samuel had not come here.

“What do you mean?” My voice was a little sharp, and I bit my lower lip in censure.

Samuel stood and walked around Kasey’s grave. He looked into Kasey’s smiling visage without reaction. “Do you feel better when you come here?” He questioned me again.

No. “Yes,” I lied. “I like the quiet.” That was true, at least.

“There is quiet, and there is too much quiet,” Samuel said cryptically.

I waited for him to continue, but he stood still, looking again at Kasey’s picture.

I climbed to my feet, grumpily brushing the grass and twigs from the colorful skirt Tara had brought me back from her vacation to Mexico earlier in the summer.

“Did you love him very much?”

Okay, now I was irritated. Samuel regarded me openly, unmoving. The way he held himself was so still, so contained. He never seemed to breath, his only movement was the blink of his ebony eyes. He had always had that stillness. I wondered if his training had made it even more pronounced. He definitely didn’t have any scruples about asking very pointed questions. I don’t think that had anything to do with the training. That was just Samuel.

I picked up my book and started making my way towards where I had left my bike. He followed me; I could see him peripherally. He moved so quietly that if I didn’t know he was there, I never would have heard him. I wondered how he had gotten to the cemetery. I couldn’t exactly give him a ride back home on my bike. Memories of him pedaling the two of us home all those years ago when I’d sprained my ankle rose unbidden to my mind. I quickly replaced the image with one of Samuel stuffed in my flowered bicycle basket. It made me feel a little better.

“Did you walk?” I questioned him now.

“I rode.” He indicated with his head towards the grassy shoulder of the dirt road where a chestnut mare nibbled contentedly.

I realized belatedly he’d changed into jeans and boots. How observant of me. I didn’t want to just ride away, but bikes and horses make awkward riding partners. He didn’t seem in a hurry to retrieve his horse.

“Did you follow me?” I didn’t like the peevish tone in my voice, but I
was
peeved.

“It didn’t take Navajo tracking skills or Marine recon to figure it out, Josie.” His face was serious despite his sarcasm. “I just asked your dad where he thought you’d gone.” He waited a few beats. “You didn’t answer me.” His tone was not accusing, but it was persistent.

“I really didn’t think it was any of your business…” I flushed at my contentious words. I was not good at confrontation, and any time I was forced into one I usually stood my ground, but cried later in my room. It was not something I willingly participated in, but Samuel raised my ire. Most people stayed away when someone went to a cemetery, ALONE. Not Samuel, he just walked right in and asked me if I had loved my dead fiancé.