Running Barefoot
Page 40
“Well, Samuel will be at the Christmas Eve Service with me and Don tomorrow,” Nettie said without preamble. “He sure did enjoy your playing when he went with us before. Remember how he embarrassed us with all that clapping?” Nettie started to giggle girlishly. “I thought we might get kicked out of the church.” Nettie’s giggle turned into a chortle as she reminisced.
My heart had stopped several seconds back, and I stood frozen to the old linoleum floor in my kitchen, hands raised to cut another long section of red ribbon. Samuel? Here?!! I must have been staring dumbly at Nettie, because her laughter stuttered and stopped as she rose to touch my cheek.
“Are you alright, Josie?” She asked, startled.
I shook myself a little, drawing myself up as I did, and smiling brightly down into Nettie’s lined and worried face.
“I was just a little surprised is all,” I said briskly, proud of myself when my voice came out sounding almost normal. “Why is he back? Is he just visiting for the holidays?” Memories of Samuel rose unbidden and an ache settled in my chest as I thought of how desperately I had missed him.
“Well,” Nettie sighed, and, satisfied that I was fine, sank back into the chair and resumed tying bows as she spoke.
“He gets leave every now and again, kind of like vacation time, you know? But he’s been so busy and all. They taught him to be a sniper, you know.” Nettie’s voice had dropped conspiratorially, like she was delivering good gossip, and her eyes grew wide at the thought of her grandson’s sniping skills. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but Don seems to think he’s had some dangerous assignments.”
I smiled at the thrill that was evident in Nettie’s face. Nettie was a sucker for Tom Clancy novels. I could only imagine what she was thinking.
“Anyway,” Nettie continued more matter-of-factly. “We’ve been begging him to come back for years, but he never seemed to want to. I think Samuel loves us, but I don’t know how many good memories he has of Levan and the months he spent here. It was a hard time for him.”
The little fissure in my heart with Samuel’s name on it cracked wide open. Nettie continued on, completely unaware of my distress.
“Anyway, he’s going to spend a couple days with us and then go on to the reservation in Arizona for a week or so. His Grandmother Yazzie is gettin’ on in years. She was in her late thirties when she had Samuel’s mother. Goodness, she has to be nearing 80 now. Samuel says she still looks after her sheep…she herds them on horseback! Lardy, I can’t even imagine it!”
“Is Samuel here now?” I turned my back and started unloading dishes from the drying rack, trying to seem nonchalant.
“Oh he’ll be rollin’ in tomorrow sometime. We’ll make sure to say hello after the church program tomorrow evening. I sure can’t wait to hear you play, honey. My word, it’s like we have our very own Liberace.”
I smiled at her comparison. I didn’t have much in common with the flamboyant Liberace, but she was sincere in her praise, and I loved her for it.
“Well, I’ll be gettin’ on home now, love. Don will be wonderin’ where I am.”
I walked her to the door, chatting merrily, smiling brightly, all the while having a mild panic attack at the thought of seeing Samuel again. I closed the door behind Nettie and slid down it until I was propped weakly against it, my legs splayed out in front of me. I was sixteen years old now. Samuel was 21. Would he be the same? Would he even talk to me? Would he laugh to himself as he remembered our friendship? Would he be embarrassed that he had been such good friends with someone so young? I suddenly wanted my mother desperately. I didn’t know how I would even be able to play at the Christmas service, knowing he was there. My stomach roiled nervously, and I pulled myself up and slid onto the piano bench, determined that I would play better than I’d ever played before.
I spent the next morning digging through my closet in steadily increasing panic. Finally, after I’d tried on everything I had in every combination, I gave in and called Aunt Louise. Louise was good with hair and make-up. After all, she made a living with her scissors, but Aunt Louise and her entire brood tended to be a little obnoxious and aggressive and way too blunt. I had shied away from asking for help with my appearance simply because I knew if I gave Aunt Louise or Tara an inch, they would take the proverbial mile. I shuddered a little as I dialed the phone, knowing Louise would be thrilled to help, but I might really regret asking. She picked up on the first ring. I could hear chaos in the background and had to raise my voice as I identified myself. I quickly gave Louise the run-down on my needs: The Christmas program was tonight and I had nothing to wear, and could she possibly help me with my hair and make-up? Squeezing my eyes shut and crossing my fingers, I asked if she might be able to come to my house instead of me going there. The thought of being on display for my cousins and Uncle Bob was more than I could bear.
“I need an excuse to leave the house,” Louise said matter-of-factly, “When do kids grow out of this Christmas Eve fever anyway? My kids are swinging from the rafters. I think I’m gonna shoot myself.” I heard her shout out a few orders to Bob, a couple ultimatums to the youngest two, and a demand for Tara to “pull everything out of our closets that might work for Josie.”
“I’ll be there at 3:30. That’ll give us plenty of time to play.” I could hear the grin in Louise’s voice, but I was too grateful to be afraid.
My heart had stopped several seconds back, and I stood frozen to the old linoleum floor in my kitchen, hands raised to cut another long section of red ribbon. Samuel? Here?!! I must have been staring dumbly at Nettie, because her laughter stuttered and stopped as she rose to touch my cheek.
“Are you alright, Josie?” She asked, startled.
I shook myself a little, drawing myself up as I did, and smiling brightly down into Nettie’s lined and worried face.
“I was just a little surprised is all,” I said briskly, proud of myself when my voice came out sounding almost normal. “Why is he back? Is he just visiting for the holidays?” Memories of Samuel rose unbidden and an ache settled in my chest as I thought of how desperately I had missed him.
“Well,” Nettie sighed, and, satisfied that I was fine, sank back into the chair and resumed tying bows as she spoke.
“He gets leave every now and again, kind of like vacation time, you know? But he’s been so busy and all. They taught him to be a sniper, you know.” Nettie’s voice had dropped conspiratorially, like she was delivering good gossip, and her eyes grew wide at the thought of her grandson’s sniping skills. “He doesn’t talk about it much, but Don seems to think he’s had some dangerous assignments.”
I smiled at the thrill that was evident in Nettie’s face. Nettie was a sucker for Tom Clancy novels. I could only imagine what she was thinking.
“Anyway,” Nettie continued more matter-of-factly. “We’ve been begging him to come back for years, but he never seemed to want to. I think Samuel loves us, but I don’t know how many good memories he has of Levan and the months he spent here. It was a hard time for him.”
The little fissure in my heart with Samuel’s name on it cracked wide open. Nettie continued on, completely unaware of my distress.
“Anyway, he’s going to spend a couple days with us and then go on to the reservation in Arizona for a week or so. His Grandmother Yazzie is gettin’ on in years. She was in her late thirties when she had Samuel’s mother. Goodness, she has to be nearing 80 now. Samuel says she still looks after her sheep…she herds them on horseback! Lardy, I can’t even imagine it!”
“Is Samuel here now?” I turned my back and started unloading dishes from the drying rack, trying to seem nonchalant.
“Oh he’ll be rollin’ in tomorrow sometime. We’ll make sure to say hello after the church program tomorrow evening. I sure can’t wait to hear you play, honey. My word, it’s like we have our very own Liberace.”
I smiled at her comparison. I didn’t have much in common with the flamboyant Liberace, but she was sincere in her praise, and I loved her for it.
“Well, I’ll be gettin’ on home now, love. Don will be wonderin’ where I am.”
I walked her to the door, chatting merrily, smiling brightly, all the while having a mild panic attack at the thought of seeing Samuel again. I closed the door behind Nettie and slid down it until I was propped weakly against it, my legs splayed out in front of me. I was sixteen years old now. Samuel was 21. Would he be the same? Would he even talk to me? Would he laugh to himself as he remembered our friendship? Would he be embarrassed that he had been such good friends with someone so young? I suddenly wanted my mother desperately. I didn’t know how I would even be able to play at the Christmas service, knowing he was there. My stomach roiled nervously, and I pulled myself up and slid onto the piano bench, determined that I would play better than I’d ever played before.
I spent the next morning digging through my closet in steadily increasing panic. Finally, after I’d tried on everything I had in every combination, I gave in and called Aunt Louise. Louise was good with hair and make-up. After all, she made a living with her scissors, but Aunt Louise and her entire brood tended to be a little obnoxious and aggressive and way too blunt. I had shied away from asking for help with my appearance simply because I knew if I gave Aunt Louise or Tara an inch, they would take the proverbial mile. I shuddered a little as I dialed the phone, knowing Louise would be thrilled to help, but I might really regret asking. She picked up on the first ring. I could hear chaos in the background and had to raise my voice as I identified myself. I quickly gave Louise the run-down on my needs: The Christmas program was tonight and I had nothing to wear, and could she possibly help me with my hair and make-up? Squeezing my eyes shut and crossing my fingers, I asked if she might be able to come to my house instead of me going there. The thought of being on display for my cousins and Uncle Bob was more than I could bear.
“I need an excuse to leave the house,” Louise said matter-of-factly, “When do kids grow out of this Christmas Eve fever anyway? My kids are swinging from the rafters. I think I’m gonna shoot myself.” I heard her shout out a few orders to Bob, a couple ultimatums to the youngest two, and a demand for Tara to “pull everything out of our closets that might work for Josie.”
“I’ll be there at 3:30. That’ll give us plenty of time to play.” I could hear the grin in Louise’s voice, but I was too grateful to be afraid.
