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July 14, 2023. I think it's done, ready to read.

"The Bloody Fingers...Thing" copyright June 27, 2023, by Gary E. Andrews
Chapter: Title
1. Like A Banshee
2. Addie And The Madman
3. Leo's Lips
4. Willie Mae Loves Leo
5. Who, But Not Why
6. The Ever-Elapsing Moment

1. Like A Banshee!

It's a dark and stormy night.

No! Really!

Dark. Stormy!

The storm is coming out of the west, blowing over the hills and across the valley with a fury, dancing the trees, gushing at the corner of the house with a whoosh and a whistle!

I stand at the kitchen window and it's light enough that I see the edge of the rain sweep across the valley, left to right, like someone drawing a curtain, and I know it's coming around the hills to the southeast, coming our way.

I worry, twist 'round from the sink to ask Mom, "Should we go into the basement? Will it...can it tear the roof off?"

"I think we'll be okay, Willie Mae," she says, those blue eyes calm, those smiling lips sip, and sip again, from her cup. "This house has stood in storms for a hundred years. Gramma and Grampa Field probably sat right here and watched them many a time."

I go back to the table, sip my cocoa. The storm intensifies, lets up. Mom's eyes get big, but she grins so I don't react. I turn and look out the kitchen door, out toward the barn. I can barely see the barn! Heavy rain!

We're in the kitchen drinking hot chocolate, no marshmallows, listening, watching when the storm really gets intense!

It's one steady wind, blowing! It's...a roar! Thunder rolls in it, far off somewhere.

Mom's eyes get big but she just smiles, sips. I get up, go to the sink, look out. Lightning flashes, bright as day, then dark again! I can see the pump handle on the top of the stone cap on the well, my tomato stakes wiggling in the wind! Then I can't. Rain whips against the window, slaps like Mother Nature's throwin' it by the giant handful!

Lightning! I can see the tall grass blowing, whipping back and forth like the wind can't make up its mind which way to blow. Darkness.

Lightning! I can see the fence and the mailbox out by the road, then darkness. Sustained lightning further off somewhere lights the sky a long time. I see the muddy ruts in the edge of the blacktop road outside our gate, glistening on the new blacktop and on the creek gravel in our lane up to the house. I'll have to shovel gravel back up the drive tomorrow, if the storm's over. If I don't traffic will just grind up the new blacktop like the old. I don't mind. I like a job where you can see what needs doin', and do it, and see your progress and what you've done at the end.

I lean to look off to the left, see the barn in the flashes beyond it, silhouetted stark and hard and real, standing like it has for that hundred years. Mom climbed up there last December and put some more nails in a piece of tin that was flappin' in the breeze. When I told Dad about it he just looked at her and grinned and shook his head.

It wasn't storming, just windy, back in December, but she looked so far away up there...It's a big full barn, built with big dowel rods to hold big beams together, long, tall, wide...big ol' hayloft, big ol' doors up in the top ends. Field Farm was a working farm once upon a time. I remember...I...was scared. The ladder was bouncy, extended out that long, on the road side of the barn, with the hill sloping down. She had me stand on the first rung, "...to anchor it," she said. And I didn't feel like much of an anchor. I remember thinking, 'What if...I lose my Mom?' Then, in March, this year, I lost my Dad.

"Ounce of prevention!" Mom said when she climbed down, that smiling face I'm looking at now. Good thing she did it too! This is a real tin flapper! We've had rainstorms since early spring, 'bout once a week. We came home in a storm one day, wind blowing and a light rain, and I pointed from down the road at that corner and told Mom her nails were holding. She stopped in the lane just inside our drive, to take a good look. It was so...nice...just...siting there, listening to the storm. She turned off the radio, turned off the car. We just sat there, a long time.

As long as we're together we think we'll be okay. I...I think we'll be okay.

But...there are things unknown on the loose here in the countryside...around Portsmouth, Ohio, on dark and stormy nights. Or...so some folk say.

And this...is a dark...and stormy night.

There have been rumors here this spring, and on into summer. Today's the first day of summer, officially.

Rumors...something about...well...a...a...Bloody Fingers guy...or something, lurking, in people's yards, peeping in their...gulp!...kitchen windows...on dark and stormy nights! And we've had dark and stormy nights about once a week or ten days.

"The Bloody Fingers Guy has big red eyes!" the kids at school tell us, out on the playground. They're the older kids who won't be here next year, gone on to the high school. I'm one of them this year, going on to high school. When the older kids talk we all listen. They're s'posed to know stuff. I don't know about that in regard to this. That was John Holloway, who offered me and my friend Addie a ride last Summer, when it was super hot and we were walkin' our bikes up Union Hill to my house. He's lookin' at Addie, grinnin' like he knows she doesn't believe his 'Big Red Eyes' story. She's grinnin', lookin' at John. I grin, looking at her.

John's the only boy in the eighth grade who has his Draft Card! He's been held back so many times. He's just turned eighteen. Finally goin' on to high school next year!

I hate to think about boys gettin' eighteen, graduatin' and all of us happy for them and them happy and then goin' off to Vietnam. I didn't know Sandy Holbrook but he went off to Vietnam and came home in a box. I didn't go to the funeral but lots of folks did. Flag-draped coffin, they said, closed up. Soldiers from somewhere, came and went...and then over...done...nothing.

We put our bikes in the back of John Holloway's pickup, climbed up in there...with the tailgate down... I tried to raise it up. He hollered, said, "It won't latch...won't stay up!" I got in, sat on the wheel hump, on the right, Addie on the left, and he took off like a bat out of hell...like a crazy man! My bike nearly slid out the back, and me with it! He whipped around curves 'thout slowin' down, cuttin' the curve by goin' way over into the other lane, off the edge of the road a couple times, speeded on the straight stretches up Union Hill like a fool! Addie had her fingers between the bed and the cab and they got mashed 'cause the truck flexed! They weren't broke but she said it hurt like crazy for a week! I never did think John Holloway was so smart after that...or before. And I never took a ride from him again neither. Not that it ever happened again that he offered. I told Mom about it. I tell Mom everything. She told me she would always help me think through things needed thinkin' through. And she does. She said, "I should have warned you about taking rides. But I thought you knew better." I told her, 'I do now!'

"And puts his bloody fingers on the windows!" someone adds. I look. It's Sheila Greer. She's grinning, looking around big-eyed at the younger kids. She'll be goin' on to high school too. Like John, Addie, and me. Addie said back at the beginning of the school year, 'We're the old kids this year!' She thought that was gonna be 'cool'. I thought it would be 'Not so hot!' Now, with the school year behind us...bein' the old kids was nothin'! I always talked to the younger kids, treated 'em just like anybody else. I liked the way I treated them better than the way older kids treated me. Mostly they ignored us, too cool to come back in conversation, smirky smiles, not genuine.

Another kid, blank-faced Billy Waltzer, says, blankly, calmly, flatly, "If the rain hasn't washed it away, people say they find the blood on the winder glass..." He says 'winder'. Goes on, "...the next day, when the sun comes up and they feel safe to go out of the house."

Billy ain't...isn't... goin' to high school, somebody told me. He'll be spending another year here in the eighth grade. I believed it but found out it wasn't true when he came to our eighth grade graduation ceremony and got a certificate just like us. I congratulated him. I was genuinely glad for him. He's not a bad kid; just...something. He goes on about bloody bandages someone found draped on their doorknob the next day. Under questioning,

"Who?"

He doesn't know.

"Where'd 'ja hear that?"

He doesn't remember. He begins to study his shoes, turn his feet this way and that, says, "I think it was on their fencepost, not their doorknob."

"Whose fencepost?"

Doesn't know.

The next day at school the story gets retold at recess, and the storm gets stormier and the lightning...lightning-ier, and the thunder rolls constantly and louder, and The Bloody Fingers Guy...thing...gets scarier. Claws and fangs and dead chickens with no blood in 'em and spikes sticking out of its head!

And Miss Shaw has gone missing!

And there she sits in her Principal's Office, smiling like she's as glad for the end of the school year as I am! Too many snow days last winter, so we had to make 'em up. Daggone it!

Mr. Lodwick, the Science teacher says planet Earth is changing, getting warmer because we're no longer Homo Sapiens, 'Knowing Man', but Homo Ignitius, 'Burning Man', burning anything that will burn, in an Industrial-Scale Burning Revolution, for the last 112 years, and updating it to 113 years, from 1850 to the present day. He recites,

"We burn fossil fuels, coal and petroleum oil and gasses and anything that will burn, animal fat, animal dung, grasses, wood, and..." he calls us 'The Human Phenomenon'.. "burning stuff just to get it out of our sight!"

Got me to thinkin'! I know everybody on our road has burn piles where they burn what they cut back off the land as Mother Nature tries to reclaim anything left untended. And junk mail and newspapers and anything they wanna get rid of without payin' a trash man or makin' a dump somewhere on their place. Dad...my Dad, when I told him Mr. Lodwick's teaching, started just piling natural stuff back in our woods 'Let Mother Nature take care of that," he says...used to...say. We still have our burn barrel but...we don't use it...much. I said, "I'm sure our little fire isn't..." and stopped. Dad said

"But there were only one billion of us in 1850, and as of 1962 there are three billion of us Humans, all alive, all at the same time, just 113 years later, each of us burning our little fire, burning or having someone burn something on our behalf, every day."

I look around at the kids' faces. Some stoic, blank, not like Billy, just...not going where the storytellers want to take them. Others...slack-mouthed, eyes agog, swallowing every spoonful without looking to see what's in it! I want to laugh out loud, but don't. I don't want to spoil the moment for the story-tellers or the listeners who will be back laughing and playing on the merry-go-round in a few minutes, their moment of terror dispelled by sunshine on the playground reality.

"Sometimes they find his bloody bandages on their gate, and on the road outside their gate." Billy Waltzer again. He's grinning, hides his face, looking down, and with his hand up-side his face.

He was here! He was there! They 'seen' him! They saw him! It's a woman! They heard her scream! 'He' becomes an 'It'! 'It's out to get someone!' 'It bit someone and it's so terrible, the wound, the cops are makin' the hospital cover it up!'

I'm grinning, in spite of myself. Little kids are looking at me. I shake my head, mouth, 'No. No. No.' They grin. They trust the old kid!

At the grocery store and the Farmer's Market on Saturday morning, everyone's abuzz about it! 'Over on that side of town at Angler's Farm', 'Out by Uhler's Pond', 'In Mr. Crabtree's barn! Inside the barn, where the horses are still spooked!'

I remember one of the kids, I don't know which one, at school, back...it may have been one of the first incidents... mentioned the Crabtree incident and said it left a big bite mark on a horse! Bullpuckey!

That perked up my ears though. Angler's Farm is down the road to our left, 't' other side o' the creek, left if you're facin' out toward the road. South of our place, house and barn right about halfway up Union Hill. Uhler's Pond is to our right, north of our place, a good ways up the road, this side of Mr. Crabtree's. Old Silas Mills' place is our next neighbor to the north, then Uhler's Pond, then Crabtree's.

Someone told Mom the Uhler's are here today and tellin' their story. We're workin' that way through the Farmer's Market, toward their tables, their usual spot. They get here early and by noon their spot is in the shade of a tree. Mr. Crabtree's little barn is just above Uhler's pond, separates their pond from the Uhler's place.

Mr. Crabtree doesn't live on the property any more, let the Fire Department burn the old house a couple times, to practice putting it out. Some men from Georgia came and took down the old barn, piece by piece. There's just the little new barn there now, Crabtree's. He keeps horses; Mr. Crabtree. There's just the little new horse barn there now, Crabtree's.

The Uhler's are on up the road.

Dad...and I rode his dirt bike up the little back road, just a mud path we all run along the back of our properties, along the edge of the woods behind everybody's properties. Sometimes kids go by on dirt bikes up there but they keep goin' so we don't get a chance to tell 'em they're trespassing. Dad...was gonna... put up signs.

The Bloody Fingers...well...no one knows if it's a man...or a woman. It's a 'Thing' now! That...declaration...came from Blank-Faced Billy, so...grain of salt...as they say. He pronounced it 'Thang'. A 'Thang'. The Bloody Fingers 'Thang'. See? Ya gotta laugh! My friend Addie says, "Stupid gets stupider!" She says it too much. Her other go-to phrase is, "Nearest thing to nothing!" The County Fair is, "The nearest thing to nothing." New TV show. "Nearest thing to nothing!" Pep rally. She's funny! Next time she says it I'm gonna tell 'er, 'You look like blank-faced Billy!' No. I won't do that. Folks can't help being who they are. Billy or Addie.

The kids tell Mr. Angler's story of seeing the specter in the window, and now we're hearing him tell it; "...the rain drumming on the roof, blowing against the window," he looks out over our heads, brings his eyes down and says, "...and when the storm blows hardest and the lightning is constant and the thunder rumbles like artillery at war, The Bloody Fingers...Thing...screams, screams and screams, like a...like a... Like a Banshee!" Mr. Angler says, at the Farmer's Market today.

There's a lull. He's not talking, looking around at about six of us standing there. Everyone's quiet.

"What's a Banshee?" I ask.

He points at one end of his tables, me looking where he points, sweeps his pointing finger across to the other end, gestures at nothing with both hands, mumbles, "You... They..." and nothing else, finally says "I don't know."

There's a lull, and then I hear feet crunching in the gravel, look and folks are going away.

"Then... how do you know what one screams like?" I ask him. I'm...not...trying to...to catch him in a lie or anything; just...asking. It just...spontaneously came to me to ask. His face growls, wrinkles up, mouth jerks to one side. I think, 'THAT! That is what the Bloody Fingers face must look like!'

That's what it DID look like, last night, a dark...and stormy...night at Field Farm...outside MY kitchen window!

"Take yer strawberries and git outta here kid!" is all he says. I'm not telling him I saw it, and it didn't scream like...nothing. Like anything. It didn't scream at all that I heard.

Now we're down the way and Mr. Crabtree's telling his story. Mom's talking to someone else so I move closer to Mr. Crabtree while I wait, and listen. Mr. Crabtree's explaining, "It wasn't IN the barn, just outside, and the horses were acting up because of the storm, ...not the spook!" He just says, "I drove out from town to check on my horses and went in the barn to calm them down when the storm hit, and I saw somebody when I came out! That's all." No mention of a big bite on a horse.

The people he's talking to start asking about details they have and he doesn't. I hear him say, "No, nothin' like that!" about three times. No big red eyes. No bloody fingers. No bloody bandages. He didn't say it but I'll bet there was no screaming like a Banshee.

Mom's ready to go. I don't think I missed anything.

We pass by Mr. Silas' table, Silas Mills, our neighbor. He sells eggs. Nothin' but eggs. Well, he sells rain barrels too. He's got one up in the back of his truck if anyone wants to talk about it. Seems he doesn't push his sales like he once did. My Dad...before he...passed away...worked with Silas, makin' rain barrels, cuttin' paper wood, selling firewood, doin' 'Whatever Work', Dad said. Dad brought one, a rain barrel, for the corner of our house, where we make our little garden there on the level ground outside our kitchen. Mr. Silas came and put it in place, set a slab of concrete for it to sit on, and connected it into the downspout, to give us a little water for the garden in dry times. It has a lever ya gotta flip, to collect the rain into the barrel, and then flip it back when the barrel's full so the rain goes where it's s'posed to go on down the buried pipes to empty into the ditch by the road. He tried to get Dad to set two, one on the corner by the driveway, but Dad said, "Let's see if this one's enough first!" They kind of...argued...sounded...temper-ish, angry. Mom says they do that...did that. It was...just their way of workin'. "Men," Mom says, and that says it all. Mr. Silas got in his truck and went home, took the other barrel with him. He looked at me on the porch as he went by and said, "You know one ain't enough!"

And...Dad died...a few days later, first of March.

Mr. Silas turns away from us. Mom says, "Hello Silas." He doesn't turn back, just throws up his left arm, his white gloves fingerless, and the 'cuffs' torn off. Mom said she gave him some new gloves once and he explained he tears off the cuffs, to be more comfortable, and the fingers, well, they just wear out from workin'. And that's when he likes them best, and Dad says...said, 'That's when he finally calls them gloves! When two-thirds of 'em are gone!' Ya gotta laugh!

"He knows who doesn't need eggs," Mom says. "He knows I got some from him out by the mailbox the other day. He doesn't waste time talking to anyone he knows isn't going to buy anything. I think he's psychic that way."

I think he's just grouchy, and rude! I don't tell Mom that. She thinks well of everybody. 'People are just people,' she says. 'Let people be who they are. People can't change who they are. Assume the best, that they have reasons for the way they live, the way they act. You do; so assume they do too. Life hasn't been good to everybody.'

Mom's a philosopher. Works for her. She's the happiest person I know, always ready to smile, to laugh, to listen no matter how boring their story is. She quotes a man, sayin', "I would rather be bored, than unkind." She's a voracious reader, keeps a path worn to the library. She got me a subscription to a Book Of The Month Club and the books are piling up. I'm reading them but...a new one every month? One on the Arctic. One on cave men! One by Bob Considine on "The Rise and Fall of The Third Reich". It's dreadful! I read it in about three days! I never want a tattoo anywhere on my body!

I go to Mr. Uhler's stand. He grows more cucumbers and squash and zucchini than he knows what to do with, so he sells them here, Saturday mornings. Grows 'em startin' early spring in his hoophouses. If you're here late he gives them away, rather than take them home again. Later in summer he brings watermelons and mush-mellons, cantaloupe. Mom loves cantaloupe! This is Saturday morning, the morning after...we saw the Bloody Fingers...thing...peering in our kitchen window!

Before, it was just a story, these stories. Old, superstitious people, kids whose imaginations run away with them, we thought, Mom thought, just seeing things in the flashes of lightning, out of the corner of their eye. "Some just like to tell a good lie!" Mom says. Nobody says they had a real good look at it. Nobody knows if it's a man or a woman or some spirit creature 'rize up from hell' as Mrs. Uhler is saying now, her eyes big, her mouth hanging open at the end of her words, her crooked little teeth, her hard-worked farmer's-wife hands raised in claw-like pose. I don't know if she knows I can see she's just actin', clownin' really. She doesn't hold my gaze very long.

We thank them for some early corn, walk away, get as far as we can before we fall into each other giggling! Mom pulls me on, laughing harder than I do.

But, we seen...we saw it. Mom and I both saw it.

We're...I'm...Mom and I aren't...superstitious.

Mom says, told me when I asked her, years ago, about...you know...monsters and stuff...under the bed, in the closet, down in the cellar under our old house, Mom told me, "No. There are no monsters; only people. And people can be the worst monsters." Well, my relief lasted about a minute before that sank in!

She showed me a report of a black bear that had been on the parking lot at K-Mart, and said, "Now there's a real monster, if you go to put the trash out and he's there looking for something to eat!" I told her,

"Look for deer. If the deer are standing out there there's probably no bear nearby." There's usually deer out back at night. If I'm quiet and move slow, they don't run away. She put a warning in the newspaper for folks to look around before they go out with trash, and suggesting they keep food trash in the house until trash day, when the men come to take it away, to not attract the bear. And just because it was in New Boston the other day doesn't mean it can't be north of town tonight.

So we weren't scared...scared scared...when the face appeared in the window, not like...scared of a monster. We keep our doors locked. We ain't like those country folk who brag about leaving their doors unlocked. "To hell with that!" Mom says. "We're locking ours!" We keep 'em locked even in the daytime. You ain't just walkin' into our house! Mom says, "If I hear ya breakin' in I've got a chance to get Grampa's shotgun and point it!"

I was looking out, standing at the sink, looking out at the storm. Mom was sitting at the table behind me, looking out too, when the face jumped into view. The yellow light over the sink cast deep shadows under the eyes of...it... and the lightning flashed, white light silhouetting it, reflecting off the window, casting the face in white, and...grey...grey...like...like..."

"Like a Banshee?" Mom says! We laugh!

It did scare me, just the suddenness of it, and then...it was gone. It didn't 'jump into view', just stepped, from the right, into the light outside the first pane in the window, to my right. It didn't touch the window. No bloody fingers. It did bring up a hand to its own face, like it was wiping the rain out of its eyes. And...well... I thought there were white bandages on the fingers. I don't know if I saw bloodstains on the bandages. I sure imagined them after though! I'm worried, a little. It was real. It was there. I saw it! It wasn't some 'thing'. It was somebody! Mom did too! Mom saw it too! She was up and behind me, arms around my shoulders, pulling me back a step. I reached up, held onto her forearms with both hands. I felt her tremble and I trembled too!

It was gone, quick as that. I pushed out of Mom's arms and leaned over the sink and looked out again. Lightning flashed but I didn't see anything. A car went by on the road, headlights, rain. Darkness.

We left lights on, front porch, back porch too, flipped on the big light out on the barn, inside on the ground floor when we went up to bed. Mom checked every window and door to make sure they were locked. I guess we were a little scared. We leave our bedroom doors open so we can talk until we fall asleep. "Good night girl," one of us always says as sleep starts taking us, and the other shuts up.

The Bloody Fingers...Thing. It's...real. Summer of 1963. School's out. I wonder what the days will bring. It ain't a thing. It's a somebody, a who, not an it.

I think...I know...who.

2. Addie And The Madman

Mom talks over her shoulder from the stove, says, "It rained some overnight. Hope it didn't wash out your gravel again. I'm s'prised it didn't wake you up. Wasn't no lightning and thunder though." She always says it like that, lightning first, thunder after. She told me one was 'Cause' and the other 'Effect'.

And she only talks like that, screwing up her grammar, 'ain't no' and 'wasn't no' when she's talking to me. I think it's like baby talk between us. You won't hear her talk like that at work or in conversation with anyone else.

"I slept like a rock!" I tell her. This was at breakfast. She gets me up to make sure I don't sleep all day. I got a bright orange traffic cone out of the barn and put it in the lane on our side of the road while I cleared it. Only two cars came and they went slow by in the other lane. Then I moved it to the middle of the road and cleared that lane. I didn't try to get our creek gravel out of the mud in the sides of the road. I figure I might get some of it after it dries out. Or just leave it to keep the dirt from washing out, make a little turn-in surface for Mom to our lane. She's always dippin' off the blacktop, nearly going into the ditch, turnin' in.

I worked yesterday while Mom was at work, shovelin' gravel off the road, back up the drive, like I said. I started early, while it was still cool. I filled the wheelbarra two, three, four times, ran it up to the top of the driveway, our lane, where Mom parks her car, where the gullies started, filled 'em in. Mom works at the newspaper in town. She tries to drive on my fill-ins to pack the gravel back again. She comes home for lunch, so that's comin' in and out again for lunch yesterday, last night comin' home, goin' out this morning, in for lunch, and back out again today, six trips so far. Gravel looks pretty level. I know the next storm 'll just wash it out again. That's okay. Mom says, "We've done it before. We'll do it again." any time we work around the place, Field Farm.

She used to cut the grass herself, still does sometimes, but now she's got me taught and I do it. I like runnin' and ridin' that big mower. I do it in my bathing suit and people go by on the road and blow the horn and some of 'em holler. They don't stop and bother me so I don't pay 'em no mind. From a distance they don't know I'm...just...a little girl. I close the gate to get it out of the way, but that also means nobody can just pull in. Nobody's tried, but...

I get a good tan, mowin'. My friend Addie's jealous, says so. She comes and rides with me. She doesn't want to do the drivin' though so it's the two of us in bathing suits ridin' 'round and 'round. Addie stands on the back of the mower and then, when we came and sat in the kitchen, she walked behind me and started laughin'! I said, "What? What?" And she told me where she had her hands on my shoulders there were lighter handprints and I was red all around them! Next time she held onto the seat.

We laugh and cuss and giggle and talk about boys. Addie's got... an appetite... for boys. That's how she put it. She's..."...been kissed and like it", she says. I ask her who and she won't tell me. I wouldn't dare accuse her of lying. Addie's an honest person. She just knows how to keep a secret. I like knowing she's got a secret! I don't need to know it right now. She'll tell me someday. She better!

Since I tell Mom everything she gives me advice I can pass on to Addie. One thing leads to another type advice. Sex stuff. Carnal knowledge stuff! It's...exciting. I can't look at boys the same any more. I didn't tell Addie the...real...carnal stuff. I told Addie about oxytocin, a hormone that makes you 'bond' with someone if you're...intimately...touching them, even casually touching them Mom said. It makes a baby and its mother 'bond' when she's handling and nursing the baby. Both of 'em secrete oxytocin. And Mom told me,

"When I was born, I was born with all the eggs I will produce in my lifetime. When I was born, you were 'born' she said," doing that air quotes thing. "You were there, an egg in my little baby body, waiting for me to grow up and the month when you would come down my fallopian tubes, embed in my uterus, and for..." she hesitated, went on, "...for me and your father to make love," she clarifies, "...to have sex. That night, the egg I'd been carrying all my life, was fertilized, and I got you. We got you."

I'm taking all that in when she says, "You were born with all the eggs you'll have in your lifetime. Those...are your children..." she says...and adds, "...already. But someday they will...you will...meet their father." I...I can't think, still, couldn't think then. I've had my period for a long time now. I think about those babies that didn't get...fertilized!

I'm dizzy. It's...too...scientific-y for me to put together with too personal and weird to hear your mother say. But, it all makes sense. It all helps me think through it, think about my responsibility...to...my children. Mom's a philosopher.

We just cut the grass here around the barn and the house these days. The rest of it's, "Gone back..." or maybe she says, Mom says, "Goin' back to Nature." Not there yet, but gettin' there. She took the bypass loppers and went out to see what kind of trees were popping up in the stuff we don't cut any more. She knows a mulberry leaf and if they were mulberries she cut 'em, cut 'em as far down to the ground as the loppers would get, dragged 'em out. "Mulberries are just too prolific!" she says. I looked it up.

We don't keep chickens or a cow any more. And we didn't put in much of a garden, this spring, just a little one here by the kitchen where the ground's level, 'fore it slopes down the hill, some tomatoes, bell peppers, cucumbers, enough corn for a couple pulls, and sweetest corn ever! Mom says, "The kernels pop like caviar! It's like candy!" "We're vegetable people!" Mom declares.

I remember holdin' the cow's tail when Mom milked. I couldn't have been more than first grade. We...Dad moved us here when Grampa Stewart and Gramma passed away. They left him Field Farm to do with whatever. He wanted to live... like he used to, here. I remember being afraid 'cause in cartoons animals would kick you into the next county! She said, "No, if it kicks, it'll kick up here toward me." She just didn't want it slappin' her up side the head with its tail while she was milkin'. I remember seeing flies get in the way of the stream while she milked and fallin' right in the milk, and swimmin' there. She'd boil it though, so...it was a good cold drink, good on cereal. I didn't think about it...much. We quit keepin' a cow, and chickens. I remember the chickens. I was a little afraid of them too. Long time ago. Now we get our eggs from Mr. Silas; Mr. Mills, our next farm neighbor. He seems to catch Mom out by the mailbox now, sell 'em there. Mom keeps money in her pocket just for the purpose. She says, "He doesn't want to talk; just do business, and get gone!"

Our kitchen's in the front of the house, facin' out toward the road. You'd be surprised how many people say it's backwards, that most houses have the living room toward the front, toward the road, and the kitchen in the back. We explain that Gramma Field wanted it built that way and Grampa Field did what Gramma wanted, built it how she said. She said, 'I spend most of my time in the kitchen and that's the view I want to see, out over the valley!' That's why the house isn't parallel to the road too. Gramma Field told her husband to angle it, for that purpose, the view out over the valley below. Grampa said, "It was her house. I just built it." Mom says,

"That was probably before you could see all those houses and buildings out there now." Town keeps growin' out into the country. There's a new gas station just a little down from the bottom of our hill, Union Hill. That's where town starts now, far as I'm concerned anyway.

Sun's out. I put on my bathing suit, decide to cut the grass here by the driveway and the front yard again. I've made a couple circuits, comin' down the property line by Mr. Silas' place, when I turn and see someone on the road, walking a bicycle on the other side of the road, facing traffic. It's Addie! I love Addie! She's like Mom, even, very...emotionally even, never up one day, down the next, just same old in control, self confident Addie. She knows I see her, raises her arm, drops it. I do the same. I take the mower down close to her, still pretty far away, wanna holler and ask her, 'What 're you doing here? Why didn't you call?; I turn up the hill and all the way around the barn, up the hill, across the back, down the property line again, along the road fence and stop by our lane, turn off the mower. Addie gets on her bike at the top of the hill, comes on zoomin'. She looks over her shoulder, crosses the road. She's grinning like she's up to something. I know Addie! She pulls up and stops in the creek gravel outside the gate.

"Let's go to the swimming pool!" she says, face reserved. Something's going on. I look down at my bathing suit, gesture, say,

"I'm ready!" She laughs. "That's a long way to peddle," I tell her. "We wouldn't any more get there than it would be time to close!"

"I got us a ride," she says. Now that grin's about to break her face grinnin'. She's beautiful when she grins! Before I can ask I hear a car comin' down the road behind me, and see her look that way, grinnin' like a Cheshire Cat. I turn and who should I see pulling up, stopping out on the road? John Holloway! Madman non-drivin' John Holloway!

I look at Addie. She's hiding her grin now, looking at him, blank-faced. What the...? Neither one's saying anything. He's grinnin' too! 'I've got us a ride', she said. Is this...the ride? Crazy drivin' John Holloway? Are you nuts?

"Are you nuts?" I say to her, loud enough for him to hear. "Are you nuts?" I say again. I jerk my thumb at John, 'thout lookin'.

She just looks at me, tilts her head like she does, presses her lips together, implying I should just go along.

"You're going to ride with this...this...mad man?" I say. I'm sayin' it loud enough for him to hear! I want him to hear me! I hear him chuckle, look and he looks away, grinnin'.

"There's a car coming," Addie tells him, loud. "Pull in here," she commands, points to the gravel outside the gate. There's enough room for a car to get in there and stop and be off the road, even with the gate closed, but I open the gate, set the end of it on the hill by the mower.

He pulls up, backs into my drive. Addie's on the other side now. And she's up at his window. I step down to where I'm looking across through the cab. She's close to his door. She's...touching... his arm! She's...Is this her secret kiss? No! No! No! I've been imagining some...some...handsome, college boy, some hairy armed man with great teeth. John Holloway? He's...omigod! He's big...and...and coarse! He's not...Addie? Are you nuts? She's coming around the back of the truck. I walk back there, arms crossed, watch as she puts her bike in the back. The tailgate's down. I don't think it...sticks...when it goes up. Old junker!

"Get your bike," she says. "If he screws up we'll ride back on bikes."

"I'm not...Addie? Are you nuts?" I protest. "That's non-drivin' John!" I jerk my right thumb at the back window of the truck. "Don't you remember last time?"

"He was new at driving," she says, consoling and scolding in her voice at the same time. "He's learned better now. And...I've got him under control."

"You've...You've got him...under control?" I squeak, trying not to let him hear me this time. "You've...got him... Oh no. Addie; what have you done?"

She grins. I love Addie. She's cute. She just grins. I'm beginning to think I don't know her at all.

"Get your bike and whatevers you need, and let's go," she says. "I need you." Oh! Man! That's gonna get me. I know it. She 'needs' me!

"I have to call my Mom," I tell her. Addie knows I tell Mom everything. I get back on the mower, start it up. Addie's mouth is moving but I can't hear her, figure there's nothing to say to change me doin' what I have to do. I back up, cut one more swath along our lane as I head for the barn. I figure I can clean the mower later. I go to the house. When I come out of the barn, turn to close the doors, Addie's at his truck door again, standing back, his big brown-tanned arm hangin' out, gesturing. I'm...I'm in a hurry now. I'm...doing this...with Addie. And crazy John Holloway! I don't know what to think. I jump in the shower, just a rinse off. I put my bathing suit back on and go to the phone. What do I say to Mom? I...can't...can I tell her about John and the ride? I have to tell her. I can't...I don't need to hide it. Mom will decide. Mom will tell me yes or no. Mom...I dial. The girl answers and I say, "Willie Harrison for Margaret Harrison please." She connects me. Mom answers, "Margaret Harrison." I stutter!

"M-Mom?"

"Willie Mae? Is everything alright?" I've scared her.

"Mom, Addie's here and wants to go to the pool. But here's the thing Mom. She's...got us...a ride...with John Holloway. He's here in his pickup truck."

"Did Addie come with him?" she asks. I don't know why.

"No, she came on her bike, and...he showed up right after. She didn't call; just showed up!" I tell her everything, everything Addie said, 'He was new to driving', '...got him under control...', 'I need you', everything, like I'm just turning it all over to her. Unscramble that for me, Mom, and tell me what to do!

"He lives out our way," Mom says. "They live in two trailers out in the trailer court just back this way from the drive-in movie theater. He's got like, six brothers and a couple little sisters. I see him going by all the time. That old truck looks like it's ready for the junkyard. I've followed him into town more than once. He must work somewhere. He drives like he's got some sense...now. Does the safe speed limit."

I don't say anything. All the information's out there. Ball's in Mom's court and I'm just waiting.

"What do you think?" Mom says.

What do I think? What do I think? I'm not ready to think. That's why I called you!

"I don't know what to think Mom! That's why I called you. Addie's...Addie's touching his arm and acting like...like she's a girl and he's a boy!"

We both laugh. Addie's fourteen. I'll be fourteen on June thirtieth. We're...not...girls yet. We're kids! We're little girls; not girls touching boys and riding in trucks.

"You should get Addie to call her mother and get permission," Mom says. "It sounds like they're sneaking, and that's not always good."

I'm pondering the nuances of that; whether sometimes it IS good to sneak, just '...not always...'.

"Tell her that, and let her decide. She's already decided to go this far," Mom says. "And...as for you...well...you decide. If you think it's okay, now and after you encourage Addie to call her mother, whatever she decides, you make your decision. It...It sounds like she came to get you as a chaperone, so she's not doing so much wrong and it's a little better...a little...more okay if you're there. What do you think?"

What do I think? What do I think?

"Okay," I hear myself say. "Okay, Mom. I'll...I'll..." I can't think of anything else to say. Okay. Okay. I'll...think. I'll decide. I'll... "Okay, Mom."

"Okay. Call me if...if you need me. Lock up the house. Don't have them...him in the house. He's not in the house is he? They're not in the house?"

"No. They're out down at the gate," I tell her. "I don't know what to do. Mom?"

"Well, you have to decide, Willie Mae," she says. "You can send him away, if she will. You can let her go alone with him, if that's what she decides. You can...I don't know...ride your bike and meet them there. Maybe you girls can ride your bikes...no. It's late. You'd barely get there before the pool closes. You...you have to decide, Willie Mae. It's your decision. You know where I am. You can come here after and ride home with me. Or...whatever."

Whatever? Whatever? Mom! Rescue me. Make my decision! You're the Mom! Oh my! I'm... freaking out. Mom's quiet.

"Okay. Thanks Mom," I tell her.

She says, 'I love you, Willie Mae.' I mutter it back.

I'm in shock. I gather my beach towel and bag and stuff I think I'll need, stuff it in my Costa Rica beach bag. I take "To Kill A Mockingbird" to read. I'm not gonna read. What the...? I put on my tie-up shoes, my jeans skirt, my loose pullover shirt, one of...Dad's old shirts...I can wear over my bathing suit when I'm not in the water...not feel so...naked...out in front of all those people...take my flip flops. Look in the refrigerator, take some cold apple juice, water, pineapple juice, put them in my little soft cooler. I go out. Addie's standing by the truck, not up at the door, touchy close, just standing there. She's grinning and laughing, and talking. She comes around the back of the truck as I get there, watches me load my bike, puts up the tailgate...It sticks! ...then hugs me, hugs me tight.

"Thank you!" she squeals. "I need you!" She goes and gets in, stops and rolls the window down, slides to the middle. I don't ask her to come out and call her Mom. I'll...have to tell Mom that. Daggone it Addie! I climb in, close the door. John looks both ways, around us in the seat, me looking around Addie at him. "Could you lean back, please?" he says, very...articulately. I realize he can't see past me, watching for traffic. I sit back, still see him look back to his left, right and left again, right again, left, pulls out.

Addie says, "Joh-ohn!" like in two syllables, and, "Use your turn signals for every move you make!" He plays with them, flips them left and right and off again. I replay her words in my head, 'I've got him...under control.'

The truck runs quiet now, where it roared that time before. I guess he fixed it. The tailgate's up! The warm wind blows in on us. Addie reaches and turns the vent window a little more to get more air in. John's big brown hand goes to the radio, turns it on. The "From Me To You" song is playing. I see the big brown hand come down by his leg and Addie's little whiter one go into it. Oh no! Addie! What have you done?

3. Leo's Lips

So John drives like a sensible person and we get to the pool. Come to find out Leo Palmer is here! I don't...know...if he was expecting us, and expecting me...I think...I'm pretty sure...It seemed like... He was there, standing in the sunshine where we came out of the dark hallway through the concession stand and changing rooms. Him and John do that up in the air handshake where two guys grab each other's thumbs. Leo's short with talking to Addie and John, turns to me, calls me Willie Mae, says, "Nice to see you!".

'Willie Mae. Nice to see you.'

No. More...enthusiasm.

'Wille Mae! Nice to see you!'

Yeah. Like that!

Well, Addie didn't ever ask me about Leo. She told me a long time ago she had a crush on him. I did too. I didn't call it that...didn't tell her that... but...I had... thoughts. But I quit trying to...you know...be friendly with him and stay out of their way. I didn't know how to do that other than to...not pay attention to him when he was around. He...got the message I guess. He quit trying to be friendly to me. And I didn't like that. Then, when she lost interest in him, he had already lost interest in me. I thought...he...had interest in me. I didn't know how to...you know...fix that. We just kinda...acted like we had been...a thing...and had broken up and now were...like people are...cold to their...you know...exes. And that wasn't fair to either of us 'cause we'd never really...done anything together...you know...a date or held hands or... nothing.

But now, here he is! And he looks good in his swimming trunks and nothing else but muscles and hairless chest and...oh my!

And he smiles and asks me, "Would you like a cold drink?"

I brought cold drinks in my bag but...I think...I think I should...let him buy me something. I'm like... alone here! Addie and John have gone off to the left, left us standing here, and they're in the water already and they're racing each other across the pool near us and turning back, and splashing and they stop over there and John's got his arms spread out on the edge of the pool and Addie's hanging on his bicep like a Christmas ornament bobbing in the water! She touches...I think she just reached and touched his hairy chest! I'm going to have to have a talk with that girl! I didn't see where they put their stuff. I...I was busy looking...at Leo.

So...we go in to the concession stand...me and Leo, and it's cool in there, a fan going, and I'm shivering so I can let my teeth chatter, do, and stop it, and he's talking to me and I'm talking back and I don't know what we're saying but we're talking. He hands me the cold drink and I take a sip and walk out into the sunlight again. I stop outside in the sun and turn back to look back in and wait. I'm pretty far away and that feels weird, like, I got my drink and I'm leaving now. He's getting his change. And he comes out and...oh, he does look good. He smiles, full of white teeth, and brown eyes and his hair's too long. I like him looking at me. I like...looking at him. And he says, "It is so nice to see you, Willie Mae." Again!

We take a place in the shade of a gazebo. It's just too hot in the sun. I spread my beach towel, arrange my stuff. I sit on it, kind of sideways, because of my skirt, and he sits on the grass.

"Oh! You can sit on my towel!" I say, and I move to the end, away from the pool, where I can keep an eye on Addie. That girl!

He kind of leans from sitting and crawls on his knuckles and knees...Leo...and turns to sit on the foot end of my towel. He leans against the gazebo post, jerks away from it, says, "Cold!" He settles back against it again. I'm...freaking out a little bit. I...haven't...ever been this...close to a boy before, a half naked boy before. I feel so...erotic. I can feel myself blushing. I have to say something. I'm thinking, sipping, thinking, and I can't say anything.

"I guess you'll be at the high school next year," Leo says. I'm thinking, snidely, 'Well, duh! That's obvious.' But he goes on. "I've missed seeing you."

Now I'm really freaking out. What's he saying?

"I...I...didn't know...you wanted to...you know...see me." I hear the words come out of my mouth but I don't know who said them! I laugh. I...have to laugh. I'm freaking out!

He looks down at his legs. I look too. Blonde hairy. Nice tan. Nice knees. Nice...nice everything, calves and thighs. Ohmigod! Even his feet are pretty! He scratches at the waistband of his trunks and I see real white skin under there. My imagination is hurting my head! My carnal knowledge is hurting my head!

"Yes you did," he says, smiles, looks at me and away across the pool. I look past him, that way too. Addie and John are still where they were. He starts talking, facing away from me, "I talked to Addie and she said she didn't know why you didn't like me." He turns, looks into the concession stand. "That...hurt my feelings for a couple weeks. Then I talked to her again and she said that wasn't what she meant, that you did like me. But, by then...it was weird...between us. Wasn't it?"

I choke on my soda pop! I'm afraid I'm going to spit it all over him! I get it under control.

"Leo," I say, cough some more, "I thought...Addie said she liked you, so...I tried to stay out of her way. I thought the two of you would...make a good couple."

"I like Addie, but...not like I liked you..." He moves his left hand, like he's explaining with it, says, "... better." I'm blushing again. He looks away, across the pool. "Is she with John now? He seems okay."

How could this have happened? Why didn't I see...something...I don't know what. I guess I did see it. Addie didn't like him like him. She just said she liked him. I...now I...I liked him liked him. I daydreamed about him. I night dreamed about him. And I was so upset when it stopped being fun to...to fantasize about us...him and me...and I didn't have any more night dreams about him. I only had two, but they were, vivid, you know? We were together, running, riding bikes, holding hands. I woke up both times when we almost kissed. It was...disturbing!

And then I'd see him at school and run the other way! Weird. I'm weird. I'm a weird kid. He's...he's looking at me, looks away, looks at his knees, tucks his hands together between his knees, just...above his knees. Oh! Those thighs! He's smiling. I love...I...like his dimples. He has a little dark hair on his upper lip, would make a cute mustache, like the little fuzzy triangles down the sides of his face. I like his ears. What I can see of them. His hair's too long. But...I've seen his ears...before. A little chuckle slips out of me. I instinctively bring my hand up to my lips. He looks at me, looks me in the eye, looks long. I can't stop looking back.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've made it awkward...awkward-er!" he says and looks away. He turns back to me, says,

"Are you hot?" Oh! If you only knew how...Oh! He means the heat. Yeah! Yeah, I'm...

"Wanna go cool off in the water a bit?" he says. I just get up. He's still sitting and I offer my hand, pull him up. He comes up. He's just a little taller than me, not so tall he'd have to... bend very far to kiss me! Why did I think that? Oh my! This is...I'm... He's holding onto my hand. I'm trying to let go. We laugh. We're...awkward, but...we're awkward together so...it...isn't awkward. I pull my shirt off over my head and he's standing there looking at me and I'm freaking out. I start to take off my skirt and he's looking. I reach and turn him by his upper arm, away from me, while I take off my skirt. He gets it. He's a good...he's...a good boy. I put my foot up on the bench of a picnic table in the gazebo, untie my shoe, take it off. The other one. I push him between the shoulder blades. There's light gray stuff on his back from the pole. My first impulse is to wipe it off. I stop myself before I touch him! I don't...know if I should tell him. He turns his head to the left, not so far to look back, and goes toward the kiddie pool, glancing sideways, seeing me, I guess, behind him, goes down the steps. He does a zig zag around a lady with two little kids and another kid floating on his back. I follow the same path. When he gets about up to his trunks deep he sort of dives, comes up outside the float-rope that separates the kiddie pool from the shallow end of the big pool. I do the same, come up beside him.

"Oh!" he exclaims. "That's better. Or is it?" he asks, says, "It's cold! Too cold!" He falls back, kicks away from me, stands up again, then squats so just his head and shoulders are above water. I'm kind of doing a yoga pose, staying above water myself. I'm suddenly super conscious of how I'm dressed! Undressed! The cold water makes me feel naked!

I walk...or...waddle...down to deeper water. I...want to keep him to myself, so I don't go toward Addie and John. I don't look that way. I see them out of the corner of my eye. I think Addie's standing up, out of the water, turning to look at us. Leo comes with me. I look down toward the lifeguard at the deep end. The sun's hot; feels good. Water's cold.

We're only in there for a couple of minutes. We're...not talking, just...looking around at people. We look at each other and smile, grin. It's...awkward. I kind of 'swim' and spin, 180 degrees, looking, just, to do something instead of nothing, turn back to him. He looks away. He's a little uncomfortable. I am too.

"I want to get out," I tell Leo. "It's refreshing but, too cold!" He reaches for the nearby ladder, gestures to assist with his other hand. I go to it, read 'American' on the steps. He touches my back. I...I say, "Let's walk up and get out the way we came in," I tell him. I'm suddenly conscious of how little clothes I have on! Again! This two-piece fits me good, covers me up enough to feel...safe. I'm not so...developed... that I'm hanging out like some girls here. But...But, climbing a ladder...in front of him...No.

We go back to the shallow water, dive under the rope to the kiddie pool, up the steps and out to my beach towel. The sun has moved. My towel's no longer in the shade.

"Let's get a little sun," he says. "I've been working on my tan. I like being brown. It feels...healthier or something."

"Yeah," I say.

"Can we both fit on your towel?" He's asking me. I don't know. Can we both...side by side...without touching?

"Let's see," I hear myself saying, that other voice, that other person. "I'm sure," I say, and wonder why. I lay down on the left, next to the gazebo, the right, once I'm on my back, pull out my little pillow, my book. I set the drink he bought me in the grass, pull a handful of it to make a place to make it stand up. He didn't get himself a drink! Oh my! I...feel...

"Would you like a drink?" I ask him, opening my little cooler bag. "I have water, apple juice, pineapple juice!"

He's grinning. I don't know why. "Yes. Apple juice, please." He's grinning, laying on his side, twisting off the cap. Suddenly I realize...that now...he knows I let him buy me a drink...even though I brought drinks! I'm blushing. That's...that's okay! That's...okay. I don't know what he thinks about it...but...I don't care if he knows I let him buy me something. I let him talk to me and buy me something...and now...we're...laying on my beach towel...together.

I watch him...arrange himself next to me. I scooch to get as close to my edge as I can. He lays back. We're doing it. We're both on the towel. We're laying side by side on a skinny little beach towel and...I'm freaking out! His arm brushes mine, pulls away. I don't move. I look at him and he looks uncomfortable, trying to keep his arm from touching mine. He's not talking. I'm not talking. My eyes are closed. The sun's hot, just right hot, not too hot. Maybe too hot on my eyes. I bring my arm up, cover my eyes. Then I think about my face with a hand-shaped white place where the rest of it's tanned, and put it down again. Our arms touch. I pull away. Did I do that? Or did he?

"It's 4:30," he says. "We'll turn over at 4:45." Okay. Okay. I like that plan. That's a plan. I look at the big clock on the concession stand wall. 4:30. We have a plan. And we lay there, not talking, for fifteen minutes, glorious, minutes. This...is the most... intimate thing I ever did...with anybody! Or by myself! I feel...like an adult, behaving, controlling ourselves. I'm not freaking out. I'm almost asleep or...in a trance when he says, "4:45" and starts turning. Our legs brush, our arms, shoulders. We don't look at each other. We find our spots, lay our heads down, and tan. It feels so good, physically, emotionally. I'm...myself. I made the decision to ride with Madman John Holloway and chaperone 'Appetite Addie'. I made the decision to...let Leo talk to me, to talk to Leo, to lay together like...boys and girls do when they're...getting to know each other. Do boys and girls lay together...getting to know each other? I guess this is...what boys and girls do. Is this normal? I'm sneaking peeks! Getting to know Leo Lips. I liked his lips when...when Addie said she liked him. I called him Leo Lips. Luscious-Lips Leo. I laugh a little. I hear him turn his head next to me. I don't look. I can't look! We'd be...right there...face to face!

Now I am sleeping. I'm asleep; I'm awake. I know Leo's there beside me, but I'm kind of dreaming. It's a dark and stormy night. And there's a face at the window. And I'm not scared. I know what...not what...I know who it is. And...Leo's there, takes my hand...

"The pool will be closing in one hour!" blares out of a loudspeaker, wakes me up. I turn to look at Leo. He's right there, has put his sunglasses on, tilts them up onto his hair. His lips look like... I raise up on my elbows, forearms, stay on my belly.

"Did I tell you I saw the Bloody Fingers Guy?" I ask him. I know I didn't. I do, tell him, now, recount all the other stories, all the details I know, and end up with my own experience, saying, "I think I know who it is." He just says, "Hmm!" every once in a while, listens. I don't know if he's thinking I'm nuts or just...I don't know what...doesn't have an opinion maybe. And that makes me...prattle on. Why don't I stop? I'm looking at his face, his eyes closed, so I get to keep looking, as much as I want. And I want a lot of looking. I kind of finish up and he's not saying anything. He rolls on his side, touches the small of my back, takes his hand away, scooches back, off to the edge of the towel, and leans his face on his right hand, up on his elbow, his hand in that luscious hair, sunglasses. His...those...brown eyes. Teeth. Lips. Ohmigod!

"I thought it was all just someone playing a prank, and then people building up the story, getting it wrong, enhancing what they heard and telling that," he says. "But knowing someone who actually saw it... That makes a big difference. So...who do you think it is?"

"I...don't want to say, just yet," I tell him. "I may be wrong and people might...you know...go vigilante on him. I don't know what...I need to find out what he was doing outside our house in the middle of a god-awful storm! I know who; I don't know why. He...he has to have a reason for doing it. It's all on our road you know, Uhler's, Angler's, Crabtree's, and our house. It's something, and, I'm betting it's something...benign..." We're using our vocabulary words from school. I like it.

"I've heard other people in town have seen it too!" Leo says.

"I've heard that but nobody has any names or locations; just stories," I tell him. I tell him about the first-hand...interviews...or...witnessing...I've done.

"Yeah, nobody's been hurt. Nothing's been stolen. Nobody's been...threatened. It...he...doesn't try to come in the house. Maybe Crabtree's barn...well...the Uhler's, but... And it only happens on dark and stormy nights," Leo says. "Can I...investigate with you? You're investigating aren't you? You've got a plan!" He sounds excited, not giggly kid excited, just...you know...into it. Interested! "I've been asking people about it and they seem to think it only happens to one house each night. That...recurring event has everyone spooked on...dark and stormy nights." He grins, saying that last part with a radio-mystery voice.

"No," I tell him, "I...I'm not...really investigating. I don't...I don't really...have a...a plan."

I don't like telling Leo 'No'!

"But, now that you've got me thinking, I'm going to come up with one." We're looking in each other's eyes. I like it. I look down, read the back cover of my book. I can see that he's still looking. He reaches and pulls at my hair, just a little...tug...the heel of his hand brushing my spine. I get a chill! It's just a tug at my hair. He lets go. He says,

"Let me investigate with you. I want to see you again, even if it's on a dark and stormy night, with the Bloody Fingers Thing-Thang out there. I'll protect you. You can protect me. I can probably run faster than you so I'll be okay. I don't have to outrun him; just you!"

I look at him, mouth agape! "You!" I say, and slap him in the gut with the back of my hand. I regret it! I really hit him! I really hit him! It made a loud smack! He's rubbing his belly! He's grimacing! He's...He's relaxed...and smiling...again. I didn't hurt him. I hope I didn't hurt him! Did I hurt him?

"I wouldn't do that," he says. "I'd sacrifice myself, let him get me, take me back to his cave, cook and eat me, before I'd let anything happen to you."

He's grinning. He's cool. He's confident. He takes his sunglasses in his left hand, puts the heel of that hand on the small of my back, an earpiece of his sunglasses tickling my ribs, and leans in... and kisses me, just, pinches the right corner of my mouth with his lips, those luscious lips, and takes his hand away, leans back, grinning! I...I didn't even close my eyes! He did! I didn't... participate! I...just...let him do it!

"Next dark and stormy night," he says.

"Next dark and stormy night," I hear that voice come out of me, and saying, "Next dark and stormy night," again. I stifle myself from saying it three times! That voice, that 'other' voice, is screaming in my head! Now I'm laughing, inside, and out.

We exchange phone numbers. Mine's easy to remember, this year, 1963. It's 1-9-6-3. His...I have to keep saying over and over in my head. We talk every day. And the first thing out of those luscious lips is the weather report. No rain. No storms expected. We're practically in a drought.

He rode his bicycle out to see me. I called Mom and told her he was coming, and again when he got here. She said, "Stay out in the yard, around the place, out of the barn, close, not up in the woods!"

"Mom!" I protested. "The woods?"

"Things can happen in the woods just like in the house!" she warned.

That just made me imagine...things...happening in the woods!

Her sense of humor makes it okay, not a...scolding or...suspicion. Just...good...motherly caution.

We do that. We walk up through the hay...Mom leases the land to Mr. Crabtree for hay for his horses...up to the edge of the woods, fool around there watching birds. Not...fooling around fooling around. Not... Just... He brought binoculars, says he does that, watches birds, animals, people. We walk around the barn. Back there out of sight of the road he kisses me again. Just a nice little kiss like before but...centered, lips on lips. I'm freaking out a little. He holds my hand, swings it back and forth, grinning, lets it go, starts walking again. I follow. We turn back along the front of the barn, down the other side, walk down to the creek by the bridge. It's cool there, under the trees. Creek's near dry! There's a roadway cut down to the creekbed. Me and Dad came down here and shoveled gravel onto the back of our wagon, for our lane, our driveway, several times.

The mailman comes by, waves, stops up at our mailbox. Leo hangs around until Mom comes home, meets her, says 'Yes ma'am' and 'No ma'am' and talks like a gentleman. He's intelligent. Mom listens. I know she likes him. I feel at ease. I know I'll have to tell her about the kiss...kisses. But...I'm pretty sure...it'll be okay. It's...we're just...Oh my. I'm not sure I can tell my Mom about...what I feel about...kissing Leo. I want to kiss more. A bunch. A bunch of times. Long times. I want to nibble on his ears! I want...Oh my! This... needs thinking through. I need Mom's help...thinking through.

4. Wille Mae Loves Leo

I'm remembering, fondly, that day at the pool.

Coming out, leaving the pool, Leo has put on clothes, has his bike there.

I watched him go around to the other side of the pool, not far from where John and Addie had spent the day, and pick up a beach towel, his shoes, and other stuff! He had his own beach towel, the little rascal! He could have brought it, and laid on it and not got me so hot and bothered! Leo!

He comes back, meets me at the door, walks me through the building, touching my back to guide me, like I need guiding, through the people standing around inside there. He...pinches my back...gently...his thumb at my spine, his...fingers, around my waist. I'm gasping for air. He goes into the men's changing room. He comes back out, dressed in jeans, hightop tennis shoes, shirt neatly tucked into his waistband. His hair is neater, neat, nice. Leather belt, shiny brass buckle, perfectly centered on his zipper and shirt buttons.

Outside, with John and Addie in the truck, watching, Leo offers his hand, a handshake! We're grinning at each other. We don't actually shake each other's hands, just...hold them and grin. I feel silly. I wouldn't change a thing! Leo says,

"It was so nice seeing you, Willie Mae," right in front of everybody.

I think, 'See me again!' but the moment passes until it's too late to say it. It's okay. He knows it. Addie's grinning at us too, speaks to Leo as we come to the door, glib talk, 'great weather', yada yada. Leo and John hardly acknowledge each other at all. He closes my door. We go. I'm twisting around in the truck to look back and see him get on his bike, start riding away. We could have given him a ride!

They talk, in the truck, more everyday...comments and nothing talk. There are some sweet little...inside jokes...but...I can't hear both sides of them. Then they're talking about who gets out first. Addie doesn't want to come all the way to my house and then have to peddle back.

"It's all downhill, mostly!" I argue.

"But it's a long downhill!" she argues. I know. It takes her a long time to get up to my house, not as long going back down, but, still, a long way. I ride down to her house, lots, but that's coordinating with Mom to pick me up and drive me back out of town and up Union Hill.

What we're getting at is that if she gets out I'll either have to get out and peddle home, with John going right by my house, or I'll have to be alone with John in the truck. I give in. I decide...I make the decision. We're already way past the newspaper office. Mom's probably already on her way home, maybe already home. I decide. We drop Addie off about two blocks from her house.

"You two have to stop sneakin'," I tell her, look around her at John, repeat, "You two have to stop sneakin'!" I lean back and look into Addie's face. "My Mom wanted me to tell you to call your Mom and get permission to ride with John. Your Mom needs to know about...you two." John's got both hands on his steering wheel, staring at the middle of it.

I get out, to let her out. They're talking, close talking. I go back and lift her bike out of the back, roll it back to the open door. I didn't see them kiss but I'm sure they did. Addie's got her hand up on his neck. I love Addie so much! I hear her voice, just a...little...murmur. It's...too intimate. This is her secret kiss! John Holloway! I'm not sure I can...condone this. I can't wait to get her on the phone. 'Girl! What the hell?'

She's coming out. Look at that face! She's so darned happy she's going to break her face! She hugs me. We...don't usually hug! She takes her bike, turns to John, cute little finger-wiggling wave! Who are you girl? I laugh to myself. I get in. "Call me!" Addie says. I don't know if she's talking to me or John. We go. I lean out and wave to stupid. She waves back. That grin. She'll be grinning 'til she falls asleep; maybe after.

We're rolling along, time passing without saying anything. John's squirming over there. I don't know what it means.

"Thank you," he says. It's real Elvis-y, 'Thank you very much!' But then he says it...more...articulately. "Thank you..." and goes on, "...for coming with us today. Addie wasn't...comfortable...with just us two. She insisted that we ask you to come or she wouldn't ride with me."

Oh! Who's this...articulate John Holloway? He goes on,

"She's worried about her...reputation...her Mom...just...the whole thing...and...She...I..." So much for articulate.

"Well, she should be!" I declare, regret my schoolteachery voice. "She's...we're just fourteen you know."

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and I'm like 'Ma'am? Who you callin' Ma'am?' He goes on. "...I know but...I think I'm in love with her. I can't help myself!"

Ohmigod! John! You can't be tellin' me things like...

"I shouldn't have said that," he says, and, "Please don't tell her I said that. I...It's true...I'm sincere, but I've...never said that to her. But I...I think about her. She's very kind to me, treats me like...somebody...like I matter...like I deserve to be...to have the same respect everybody should have. For...someone like her...to think I'm.. l like I'm worthy of her...friendship. I...I haven't had much of that... treatment in my life. Addie...says they...passed me over...passed over me...school and...my family even...didn't give me the training and attention you have to give a child. I hated coming to school in first grade. I cried all day until they let me go home. Remember Miss Easely? First grade. I don't know if you had her."

I did, I tell him, "I did. First grade. Yeah." I'm embarassingly entertained by him telling me all this. I'm calculating that Miss Easely was Mrs. Easely by the time I had her for first grade. John may not be just mispronouncing 'Miss' instead of 'Mrs.'. She may not have been married three or four years before I got there.

"Well, some kid had brought a baby doll to school that day and...I grabbed at it and tore its arm off! I was...I didn't know...anything about baby dolls. I only had older brothers. and one little sister and she...didn't have baby dolls. I was so..." He doesn't seem to have words for a moment. I offer,

"Freaked out?" and he says, "Yeah! Freaked out. I mean really scared. We...I was always afraid of damaging other people's property. My Dad...My Mom always were warning us about other people's property, land, cars, houses, stuff we might hit battin' rocks with a stick. So, to me, five years old...I was just five when I started school...My birthday's in December...so...so that kind of set the tone for me and school and...life in general...Addie says. She's like a psychiatrist!"

He laughs. It's a good...genuine...personable laugh. I laugh, say,

"Yeah, she's my therapist too!" He laughs again. We ride, through town, our elbows out the windows, quiet for a while.

"Miss Easely just popped the doll's arm back on but I was...traumatized. She didn't handle it very well, kind of...glaring at me, not thinking about how I already felt. I'd stopped crying about being there by then. This new...trauma was a whole other thing. I got home and tried to get out of ever going back again by telling my Mom Miss Easely broke a girl's arm!" He laughs. John's okay.

"Next couple days I'd hang back when my brothers walked ahead, going to school," he goes on. "I'd duck under that big round corncrib there at the end of our road and they didn't even come back lookin' for me. The bus came and went. I'd go out and play in the cornfields, chase killdeer. I got after one and threw a chunk of cinder block at it, and I hit it. I went over and it was layin' there, still. I set the piece of cinder block on it and it squeaked, so I did it a couple more times. Then I left the rock on it so I could bring my brothers to see it when they got home. When we came back it was dead. I never hurt anything again in my life!

Then, that afternoon, I'd gone back to the corncrib and fell asleep. I woke up and saw Mom come out of the trailer and up to the 'wash house' with a load of clothes, where they have washers and dryers, and I tried to sneak up closer. She had my little sister with her and she spotted me, my little sister, and she came across the roadway there in the trailer court and looked down in the ditch at me, talkin' to me. Mom came out to see what she was doin' and I was caught! So I went back to school. I still didn't like it though. I didn't get it. Seemed like everybody else just got it. I didn't get it."

"Don't...I know..." he says, "you're best friends, but...try not to tell her all this stuff. I know you'll have to tell her something but...especially don't tell her...what I said earlier. I never said it out loud before, but...I never felt it so strongly. She's just fourteen. This is crazy. I know it's crazy! But...in a few years the difference won't matter."

A few years? Who's thinking about a few years from now? John Holloway, that's who. I'm so tickled! He's not...stupid. He's not...oafish. He's not mentally deficient; just...maybe didn't learn stuff, A-B-C-s, at home, other...social...stuff...social skills. I tell John,

"I know when I went to kindergarten Mom and...Dad...took me in and showed me around the school, the gym, the restroom, the playground, the principal's office, and my classroom. Dad told me to go walk around among the other kids. They were playing, some just sitting at desks, crying, most of them checking out the toys, the chalk and the blackboard. In a minute I came back and said, 'Mom, Dad, these kids can't talk!' Some folk don't teach their children, don't talk to their children, and they get to school and ain't...aren't up with other kids. They need that...that... head start of academics and..." John fills in where I'm stopped, 'Socialization', he says. John's no dummy. I go on, "...from the home to...succeed...to feel equal...when they get to school." John, maybe didn't get it. I know his little sisters. They're shy on the playground, hang together a lot. I push them on the swings and on the merry-go-round. They're afraid of the slide! I am too! Told 'em so! Too tall. Too hot. No railing at the top. Scary.

And I know for a fact they come and get him out of class to come to the auditorium, the gym, to set up chairs for assemblies and it takes all morning or all afternoon, so he's not getting classroom time even now. He's a freakin' Janitor's helper! They shouldn't do that. I wonder how long they've been doing that.

"I saw that book you have, "To Kill A Mockingbird", he says. "I tried to read that when it was assigned this year. I...I couldn't...I could get some words and not others... most of the others. It...I got so hung up worryin' about how Mrs. Appleton was going to...handle that...I couldn't concentrate. I'd read a couple pages and couldn't remember what I'd read. I didn't have it read by the time everyone was supposed to. I didn't get a good grade. I'd...I'd like to read it now, this summer. It's a good story, what I got of it."

"Yes!" I say. "Here, take mine. I've read it and like it so much I'm reading it again!" I'm looking for my bag. It's in the back with my bike. I look back there, see the wind flapping at the bag, the cover of the book. "It's in my bag," I explain.

"It's the only book Harper Lee ever wrote," John says, and I'm shocked he knows that!

"I know!" I say, genuinely excited. He goes on,

"It makes me wonder if it's base on true events!" he says. He said 'base', not 'based', I'm pretty sure. John Holloway! You just might be fit pickin's for my Addie after all. "I can see someone taking small town happenings and...fictionalizing them, give people different names, camouflaging the reality with..." He's going on and on. I'm just sitting here stupified! Stupified! He's intelligent, articulate. I can't wait to call Addie! I start calculating what I'll say. I will...I promise...not tell her that he said he loves her. That's the most precious thing! He's not just foolin' around. He loves my Addie! I'm tickled pink with a feather! I'll tell her about his book talk! John Holloway!

We're coming up Union Hill.

"That's Angler's Farm," I tell him.

"I know," he says. "That's the first place they saw the Bloody Fingers Thing." He says 'Thing', not 'Thang'.

"Do you want me to drop you off back away from the house?" John offers.

"No!" I tell him. "Mom knows where I'm at. I tell Mom everything. I called her. She gave me permission to decide. Addie said she needed me, so I decided. I'll tell her what we decided coming home."

"Addie?" he questions.

"No. Mom," I explain. "You can just pull over on the drive and stay pointed down the road. You don't have to pull in."

"Thank you," he says, again. I don't think he's thanking me for the driveway advice. It's for chaperoning, making today possible for...them.

I see Mom's car. There's traffic behind us. John says he has to pull into the drive. He puts on his turnsignal, does, stops nose in just inside the gate. I look at John. He looks away.

"I'll tell Addie you used your turn signals consistently all the way home!" I tell him. He laughs out loud, thanks me again. "I'll keep your secret, John," I tell him. "Love is serious stuff and...if you haven't told her yet...or haven't really figured it out yourself yet, it's not my place to. So you just...keep on...doing whatever it is you two are doing. And I'm gonna ask HER what that is and not tell YOU what SHE says. You two! Addie's got a good head on her shoulders. She wouldn't...be with you if she didn't...feel pretty strongly about you too. So..."

I can't think of anything else to say. I feel...a fondness for John. I step out, get my bike out of the back. I reach in my bag, get "To Kill A Mockingbird" and reach in the window and lay it in on the seat. "Thanks for the ride John. Thanks for the day!" I'm genuinely pleased with how things worked out. I hear his wheels on the gravel as I go up the drive. I look as he tops the first hill and disappears into the dip. I don't look again but see him, that old truck, in my mind's eye, up over the next hill, and away.

Mom gets the first telling of the day's events and revelations. I...I don't tell her about the kiss. I tell her about the handshake.

I get Addie on the phone and she's over the moon about John. Turns out he works in a garage, his Dad's garage in town, his Dad doesn't live at the trailer park with them, and she rides over there and they've been talking and walking over to the Dairy Creme for lunch. And stuff...I'm not telling you what stuff, but...of course...you already know about the 'been kissed and like it' part, so... It's innocent enough but...she's got an appetite.

I just say, on the phone to Addie, 'He seems very fond of you too.' She's too busy thinkin' her own thoughts and listening to my recap of what John and I talked about to read much into my comment.

Then she starts askin' about Leo. I, of course, would rather talk about Leo! She says it wasn't a setup, she didn't know he'd be there, John doesn't really know him, and...I'm thinkin', 'Wow! What if I didn't go today? What if I decided...What if Mom didn't make me decide? What if Addie didn't...the whole her and John thing...I would have...missed out on...I don't want to call him Luscious Lips Leo. Addie's nosin', asking questions. I'm...not gonna tell her about the kiss. She saw the handshake. That's...enough. We'll talk again with cooler heads. I intend on asking her some personal questions about John. I'm sure she'll ask more about Leo. I'm not gonna call Leo. I'll wait...let him call me. Unless...what if he doesn't call? If he doesn't call, how long should I wait before I should call him? But he asked for my phone number. He offered me his. After Addie and I hang up I realize I need to ask her opinion. But I'll wait. We'll talk tomorrow.

I sleep well, wake up in the night, from a dream...of Leo. It's just us at the pool and he tugs my hair, touches my back, leans in and kisses me on the corner of my mouth...and I woke up! It's okay. I woke up after the kiss, not before, and I remember the dream, and the dream already came true, so...so something. Tomorrow's another day.

Leo came to my house! On Wednesday he called. He asked if he could come and see me. I said, "Of course." I felt like I should have said, 'Well, I guess' or 'If you want to'. I said, "Of course," like 'You know you can! I love you Luscious Leo Lips! Luscious Lips Leo!' He said,

"Okay, I will! I'm riding my bike! I...don't know how long it will take." He was here an hour and seventeen minutes later. That's...interest. I'm interested too.

I called Mom, told her he was coming. She said to stay out of the house, "No hanky panky!", she called it. I scolded her, "Mom! What do you think we are? We just...met...really."

"Well, there was that kiss," she reminds me. I had to tell her! Yes. Yes, there was that kiss. But, still, we're...just...getting started here. We're not...lovers. Ooo! We could be lovers!

We hang out, walk around the property. We walk up and down the road. He wants to see where Crabtree's barn is, where Uhler's pond and Angler's farm and Uhler's farm are. Their driveways are washed out on the road. I'm thinkin' about seein' if they want them shoveled back. Money! Money! Money! Maybe.

Leo went home when Mom got home. She offered him a ride. He turned it down. "It's all downhill!" he said. And, considerately, "You've been working all day!" When Mom turned to go in the house he leaned in and kissed me quick. I didn't get a chance to enjoy it. He tried to let go of my hand. I held on to it, looked over my shoulder at the house, turned back and stepped into him. I wanted a good kiss and I got one!

"Bye Leo," I said, and let him go. I watched him on the road until he was out of sight. He's on the wrong side of the road! He should be facing oncoming traffic! I have to calculate when he should get home, call him and be sure. I'll tell him about riding on the left, facing oncoming traffic! Hour seventeen coming, uphill. Should be less going back, downhill. Every time a car goes by I think, 'He could be laying dead in the ditch down there somewhere!' Leo!

Then, Saturday...Leo!

He's coming, walking his bike up the hill!

It's so hot! I'm so glad to see him! It's been ten days since he was here last time! Or...just...Wednesday. It's Saturday. He didn't call. Why didn't he call? I'll tease him, tell him, "You have to call! You can't just show up! One of my other boyfriends might be here!" No. I won't tease him. I go out of the kitchen, across the long porch, down the steps into the sun. It is hot! Dag! I would run down and meet him, but I just walk. It is so hot! Radio said ninety degrees! That's hot hot. I hear a car coming, look right, see it top the hill up by Uhler's. I stop by the mailbox, watch for the car to bob up and down over the hills. I open the mailbox, empty, close it. Leo's on the wrong side of the road, not facing traffic. I'll have to scold him for that! I told him before! I laugh to myself. He's...become precious to me.

Why doesn't he mount up and ride? He keeps walking the bike. The car comes from my right, goes down the hill. I wave. He doesn't. A car comes from behind him, goes by. I wave. The lady waves. Leo...Oh! He is so red! His tan is his tan but his face, his throat, his ears, are red red! I was imagining initiating a kiss, to...let him know...but...now... Now I'm thinking he's not ok!

Oh dear! I can see him clearly now and...he is not sweating! He's trying to smile but he looks sleepy-eyed and weak.

"Leo!" I say, "are you okay?"

"I'm okay!" he says, but he's out of breath. His tongue sounds lazy! I take his bike, turn back up the lane. He's following, kind of stumbling like his legs are stiff!

"Come up here in the shade!" I tell him. I'm thinking we'll go around back, sit on the swing on the front porch. But as we get by the steps up to the back porch I lay the bike down, take him by the hand, lead him up the steps and into the kitchen. I jerk a chair out from the kitchen table and sit him in it. I pull the storm door closed, close the inside door. I turn the fan on the counter to blow by him, not directly on him. Yes! He's red red, and not sweating! I pour him a glass of water from the refrigerator, get on the phone and call Mom.

"Mom!" I tell her. "Leo's here. I brought him in the kitchen because he's red as..." I start to say 'hell' but say, "...can be! And he's not sweating. We're in the kitchen."

Leo's looking at me, "We're not supposed to be in the house," he mumbles. He knows the rules. "Sorry, Mrs. Harrison."

Leo can only hear my side of the conversation as I'm answering Mom's questions, 'Did you give him a glass of water?' "Yes!"
'Don't put the fan right on him!' "Yes, just by him!"
'Take his shoes off!'

Shoes off? "Okay, wait!" I lay the phone down, untie Leo's shoes. Pull them off. Mom didn't say to take his socks off but they're tube socks going up his calves. I pull them off. He says the linoleum is cold. I set the heels of his feet on the toes of his shoes, turned sideways. He doesn't complain so I think that's...okay.
I pick up the phone. Mom knows I'm back, says,

'Unbutton his shirt!' I'm... "Mom, I'm...not doing that!"

'Just get him cooled down!' "Yes, Ma'am." I lay the phone down, reach and unbutton Leo's shirt, one button, two buttons..." His hand comes up like he's going to stop me. I push it away, go for a third button and I decide that's enough. I go behind him and untuck his shirt! I think I broke a nail! I did! Damn it! Why in hell is your shirt tucked in? I don't ask him. I tell him, "Stop tucking your shirt in! It's summertime!"

Leo's looking at me, not like that was all as...sexy for him as it was for me...just looking.
I can hear Mom's voice on the phone laying on the counter. I reach for it without looking, knock it off onto the floor, the springy cord making it bounce and hit the floor twice more. I pull it up and hold it to my ear.

"Is he sweating yet?" Mom's asking. I lean closer, put my left hand on my left knee to look. Leo grins, looks silly. He's not sweating. I get a dishtowel out of the drawer, run some water on it, tell Mom what I'm doing, start dabbing it on his forehead, his temples, his cheeks and chin, those cute...his ears. I'm giving Mom a running commentary. I wipe at both sides of his neck, his throat, his chest, down his sternum, reach and lay it on the nape of his neck. It looks like he's sweating! Maybe it's just water from the towel. Now I don't know!

Mom says she has to go, tells me to call her in ten minutes, sooner if there's any problem, tells me what time it is. I hang up the phone, look out the window at the road. Mailman's going by. I don't know if he stopped or not. I look back at Leo. He's finishing the water. I take the glass, refill it. He sips some.

Okay. I think he's okay. He's still red as hell! But he's smiling like he's in there again, not just delirious.

Now, I decide, I get to give him my kiss. I do, just a quick one on those luscious Leo lips.

"Oh!" he says. "That...that was nice." He seems a little delirious still. I'm looking into his eyes, can't help grinning. The phone rings. It's Mom. I give her an update. We hang up.

"Have you been following the stories in the newspaper?" Leo asks. What? What in the world is he talking about? Maybe he's still delirious.

"No," I say. I'm sure he's not talking about the war. I follow that story but...

"Stewart Field," he says, leans on his elbows, and pulls a wad of newsprint out of his shirt pocket. It's damp! Oh! Now you're sweating!

I take them, unfold them, unstick them from each other, lay them out separate on the table to air. They're all...just tiny articles...about...the Bloody Fingers 'Thang'. It just calls it 'The Mystery Figure'. Dunh! Dunh! Dunh!

"Stewart Field is the writer," Leo says. "It's the local paper, not one of the big city ones." The local publishes twice a week. There are five articles but they're undated. I read them, finish, ask,

"How long has this been going on? Why didn't you write the dates on them?" I give him my 'Stupid!' look, head bent, eyes looking up from eyebrows. He shrugs, says,

"My Dad had a stack and I went through them."

"Well," Leo says, "I think I have the whole series. I don't think I missed any. They just say the same stuff, mostly, nobody knows, what is it, the same sightings, same people, same details, where, who. But kind of interesting when..." and at the same time we say,

"...you separate fact from fiction!"

Leo! You bright little rascal! Now he gets my bright-little-rascal look! He crosses his arms, uncrosses them, gestures, arms bent at the elbows, palms up, like 'Of course!', and crosses them again. He's so cute. Smile you pretty little freak!

I'm rereading. Yes. Repetitious. I think..."Someone's trying to...sensationalize it!" I tell him. "Someone's just...milking it along to...keep the story going. Stewart Field. My Grampa's name was Field. Was it Stewart? I only saw them maybe twice before they passed away. This was his farm." Hmmm...Why didn't Mom say anything. That...that one article...Yes! This one. I reread. That's..."That's my story. Me and Mom, sitting right here", I peck on the table, "...me standing over there by the sink! It's the only one with no names!" Mom! I think Mom's writing these little articles under a pseudonym! Mom! She would have told me! She would have...told... Maybe...maybe she's not doing it...I know she's not doing it on her own. I'll bet the Editor's making her do it, selling newspapers. She's probably not proud of doing it!

My first impulse is to call her, got my hand on the phone before I stop. We'll talk later. Right now I have a guest.

Phone rings! Kind of scares me since I have my hand on the receiver!

"Yes, Mom," I answer her on the first ring. That scares her too! "I think he's going to make it." Leo's looking at me. Mom's talking.
"Yes, boys make bad decisions!" I repeat what she just said, grin at Leo. Mom says he must like me a lot.
"Maybe," I tell her. Leo's brown eyes are delicious. I know he likes me. Mom's saying, "But you can never tell whether they like you or just don't have anything better to do, or just want to kiss you!"
"Yes, Ma'am," I tell her, look away from those brown eyes, "I can never tell. I hope..." I don't say, 'I hope he wants to kiss me!'. She's talking. I'm listening, not thinking about what she's saying. Leo leans on the table, stands up, walks over to the sink, looks out. I'm looking him up and down. He's so...athletic looking. I hope he doesn't play football. He could get hurt. Boys play football in high school, for nothing but the game, that and the bookies taking bets, and get hurt and ache for a lifetime. Dad did. Mom said. She's talking.

"...and tell him we'll take him home when I get off work. Tell him to call his mother and tell her."

"Okay," I say, "Sounds like a plan!" She's talking. Finally she hangs up. I keep the phone up to my ear, 'cause...I'm...looking. He's so cute. He turns around, leans on the sink, looks at me. I don't know if he can hear the dial tone in my ear. "Okay Mom. I'll give him a bath and put him to bed. Okay. Talk to ya later!"

Leo's laughing, crosses his arms, looks past me into the living room. He's grinning.

"Mom says..." That's all I get out before he interrupts me.

"No she didn't!" he says. "You're silly. You've been out in the sun too long."

I laugh. He doesn't, just grins with those lips and shakes his head.

"So, what do you think about the stories?" he says, leans on the table, pushes the little articles around. His...shirt's hanging open!

"I think...someone's exploiting it, and these 'articles'," I enunciate to indicate my disdain, "are useless save for the facts they play with. Their speculations simply cloud the issue, make it sensational enough for small minds."

Leo laughs out loud! "My girl!" he says. "That's exactly what I expected you to say, and exactly what I think. It's so obvious. But they're all right here on your road, your neighborhood. That's a fact. It's here, whatever it is."

"It's a who Leo; not an it," I tell him.

"Yes! Yes!," he says, and adds, mysteriously, "and you...know...who. Tell me!" I look at him. He comes around the table, leans with his left hand on the table, comes close, looks in my eyes, gets slowly closer, kisses me...and...it's...a good one! He...feels my lips with his, pinches at them. it's...by God sexy! I won't end it if he doesn't! He does. He leans back, grinning. I realize I'm still holding the phone. I try several times to put it in the cradle without looking away from those eyes. Leo takes it, hangs it up.

"Get a haircut, Leo," I hear myself telling him. I'm thinking, 'It's too hot to be this pretty!' I just say, "It's summertime."

"We should go sit on the porch," he says, takes my hand, pulls me up, leads me across the living room, "while my bathwater's running," he says and I laugh out loud. I push him toward the door. He's laughing. The porch is too hot! I bring him back in immediately, close the door, take him back to the kitchen. We sit in chairs pulled close to a corner of the table, hold hands, kiss when either of us wants to, talk about The Bloody Fingers Thang. He puts his naked...bare feet on top of my shoes.

I...love...Leo. I vow not to write 'Willie Mae loves Leo' on anything. That night, in my room, I break my vow.

Sunday...is my birthday. I...didn't tell Leo. Addie probably forgot. That's okay. I'm...not ready to...be...celebratory...happy...yet. Dad's only been gone since March first. Mom baked a cake and put one big candle...She's so funny! ...and four little ones on it. We talk and laugh and it's enough. I can feel...happiness...just right there where I can...reach and get it again...when I'm ready.

5. Who, But Not Why.

Addie's on the phone. Leo's waiting on the porch. I'm trying to get off and out to him but she just called and started telling me about a dream John told her about.

John told her he dreamed he was fighting, in Vietnam!

And he was butting people on his right with the butt of his rifle, and bayoneting people on his left and shooting people who were getting between him and the LZ, and explained it meant Landing Zone, and they were trying to get to a helicopter hovering there close to the ground, chop-chopping noise and shooting noise, and people yelling and screaming, and the wind from the blades was blowing up dust and making the grass wave all around, and a guy is shooting a machine gun out the open door of the helicopter, and John's trying not get shot by that, and he gets there and gets in and the 'copter lifts off and he sees the ground getting further away...and suddenly the copter blows up and he's...like disintegrated...just like...he's fire inside the explosion...and he woke up gasping for breath like he was inside that fire and couldn't breathe!

She spilled it all out like that, puked in one breath, and she's gasping for breath on the phone! I'm listening to her breathe, and cry. She's crying. She says, "American...teenage boys...should not...have to have dreams like that!" She's dramatic! She says, "Call me later," and hangs up.

The dial tone in my ear is...disturbing, something...final... Something...ended.

Leo's sweet face turns back from pacing down to the other end of the porch. I go out. I won't tell him about John's dream. I need time to process it myself. Damn it!

It's cloudy, not too hot. Leo says,

"Let's go see Crabtree's barn!" I'm distracted. I...don't care what we do. Leo pulls out a plastic sandwich bag. It's his little articles. He shows me the dates. The little rascal took them home, pieced them back into the newspapers he cut them out of, just so he could write the dates on them. Now, we see the sequence of the events, Crabtree, the first experience, then Angler's, then Uhler's, then ours, and the fifth one just a recap.

"Crabtree is the...most skeptical of the witnesses," he says, my Leo says. "The others seem to either have...fallen for a...supernatural explanation...or are only skeptical as much as they are playing with it...making more of it than they actually experienced."

Me, Mom, and Leo, aren't superstitious. I tell him what Mom said about, 'Some people just like to tell a good lie,' or, whatever it was she said.

We walk up through the hay to the ridge behind the house and walk along the edge of the woods, along the track. I see horseshoe prints in the dried mud; more likely mule-shoe prints. Mr. Silas rides his mule up through here, up into the woods, looking for trees to cut. I'd rather walk back in the woods, where it's cool, and quiet, and just think. We walk behind Silas Mills' place, on past Uhler's Pond... It's separated from the Uhler Farm by Mr. Crabtree's little piece of land. I know he sold the rest to Mr. Uhler.

And here's Mr. Crabtree's. He's here, Mr. Crabtree, foolin' with his horses out in the...corral thing...the...paddock. The horses toss their heads, jog around the paddock. His barn isn't a big old barn like ours, just a small, new barn-shaped building, a...mini-barn. He lets his horses graze his fields, puts 'em up at night. It's a hobby, just a hobby for him, I think. I've never seen him ride them.

We climb over the fence and walk down. I wave to him from a distance, too far for voices. When we get there he comes over, takes a break from shovelin'. Some hobby. I ask him,

"Mr. Crabtree, would you mind telling me about the...apparition...what you actually saw?

"The Bloody Fingers Thing-Thang?" he says, grinning. 'Thing-Thang', he says. He starts ticking off corrections; "It was not in the barn. It did not spook the horses. I didn't see any bloody fingers."

Leo's paying attention, not interrupting, not asking questions to get to what we want to know. Let him talk. Mr. Crabtree goes on,

"I was in the barn. The horses were stamping and neighing, because of the storm. They do when it storms. That's why I came up, to be with them, keep them from getting too excited, scared, kicking at the walls and gates, and hurting themselves. They did that when I first got 'em and I've come up to calm them every time there's a storm and they haven't kicked anything out or hurt themselves. Ounce of prevention, you know. I've had these horses for several years. I know what they do. They don't like thunder and lightning! I don't either. They told me I didn't need lightning rods. You see I've got lightning rods!" He points. I see one. I don't know who told him he didn't need one. Sounds like...maybe...the horses. He's...kind of meandering around through what he's saying.

'Lightning and thunder,' I'm thinking. I start to ask him what he goes on to tell next. Mom says, 'Lots of times, if you just listen, people will answer questions you have without you having to ask them. You wait, let them talk, and if they quit talkin' and they don't...haven't answered a question on your list, then you ask them that. All the other stuff though, they just tell you. It's the natural way of things.' Mom's right. Mr. Crabtree then tells me what I's about to ask him, what he DID see.

"I came out of the barn to get a coat. When the storm hit it got real cold, real fast. That air was just blowin' back up out of the west after dippin' down out of Canada! Cold front. 's been cold this spring. Anyway...I'm comin' out to get a coat. I open my car door, an' I got my head down against sheets of rain, and the lightning, and thunder... And there at the corner of the barn..., he points toward the front corner, away from the paddock, says, "Not this corner; the other one where the rain barrel is," and goes on, "there was a figure, and, it had a long coat on and it was kind of light colored so I could see it in the dark between flashes, and that coat was blowin' around...kind of ghostly shaped...but it wasn't a ghost."

Lots of 'its' in there. Not 'he' or 'she'. 'It'.

I don't see a rain barrel. I don't have to ask. He tells me, "The rain barrel's over on the far corner. He waves his forearm, gesturing diagonally through the barn to the far corner. Silas Mills sold me that. You flip a lever and the downspout feeds the rain into the barrel. When it gets full you flip it back and the rain goes where it's supposed to go. I just have a rock-lined ditch to take it down to the culvert under the road. I don't remember half the time. It just overflows and goes where it would have gone anyway."

I'm looking at Leo. Leo's looking at me.

"Did you see...or hear anything else?" Leo asks.

"Nope, no Banshee screams if that's what you mean!" He laughs. "People say it screams like a Banshee. No big red eyes! I didn't hear anything. It went off down the lane and I got my coat and locked up the car and went back in with the horses. I closed the doors and locked them too! Scared me, somebody there you didn't know was there, you know, but, since it went off I got back to my own business. I was sure big-eyed next time I came out and looked around though!" He laughs, waves a fly away, looks down toward the road.

He starts walking up to the corner of the barn so we just follow, get there and he's pointing, "That's the rain barrel over there, at the corner of the barn. And there's where it...", 'it' he says, "...went down the lane to the road." I see the rock-lined ditch from the corner of the barn down to the ditch by the road. I remember coming by on the road with Mom and...Dad and seeing him out there laying in rock. Then coming by another time and seeing it laid in a little further down. And another time and it was finished. Big, like a big, dry...rock lined creek.

"Is that where you always park your car?" Leo inquires. Mr. Crabree says it is. Leo says, "About fifteen yards, like on a football field, from the place where you saw it."

Leo's saying 'it'.

Mr. Crabtree agrees to that estimate.

The doors of the barn are open on both ends. There's a gate on the opening at the paddock.

"I keep a cot there in that first stall, and my guitar," Mr. Crabree says. "I lay there and play my guitar and sing and the horses settle down."

I see the cot, army cot, with the crossed legs, the guitar. There are four stalls on one side, only two horses out in the paddock.

I can see his drive is washed out on the blacktop. Cars have been driving on it since the storm. It's grinding up the blacktop, I know. I say,

"Mr. Crabtree, would you like to have that gravel shoveled up and brought back up to fill in the gullies? I did ours."

"Yes," he says. "I've been puttin' off doing that. It's a'grindin' up the highway. I hate to grind up the new blacktop! I just ain't had the time or took a spell of wantin' to get to it. You wanna do it? I'll pay ya ten dollars."

"Ten dollars doesn't sound like much," I say. "Like I say, I just did ours and it was a lot of work. I was thinking twenty. That's a lot of gravel and a lot of gullies! Look at those gullies!" I don't know why I thought that fast to double his offer with a counter-offer. But I did. I'm grinnin' in my head!

"How about fifteen?" he says. I say, 'Okay' and we shake hands. He reaches and shakes Leo's hand. We're all grinnin' as we say goodbye.

We go down his lane and Leo wants to go on up by Uhler's. We do, cross over, walk on the left, facing traffic, get there, cross back over. Uhler's gravel's out on the road too, lane gullied up to the house. We walk up. I knock. Mrs. Uhler comes to the door, grins, says, "Hi!" I don't think she remembers my name, but she's friendly.

"Wow!" I say. And, "Hey! Mrs. Uhler, the storm washed your gravel out on the highway. For twenty bucks I'll bring my wheelbarrow and shovel that up and bring it back in and fill in your gullies!"

"How about fifteen?" she says. I grin, and agree. No handshake. She says, "Might as well wait until after the storm Friday. It'll all just warsh back out!" I agree to that.

"Mrs. Uhler," I say, ask, "Would you mind telling me about the...intruder you saw?"

"The Bloody Fingers Thing?" she says. She seems eager to talk about it. "I didn't see it. I's in bed already. My husband did. He was gettin' me a glass of water and he told me it was right there, right outside the kitchen window." She points, and there sits one of Silas Mills' rain barrels, right at the corner of the house, and near the kitchen window. I don't know if Leo sees the significance, but I sure do. She goes on,

"It rize up by the kitchen window like a smoke! Hit was tryin' to come in! Big red eyes! Snaggle toothed grin!" and she does her raised-arms claw pose, like at the Farmer's Market, "But it didn't know what the glass was! It pecked and clawed on the window! Looked confused as to why it could see in but couldn't reach in! Then it banged harder! He thought it was gonna break the glass and climb in and get us! Mr. Uhler ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to get his shotgun and when he came back down he said it was still there, big red eyes, pointy teeth, bangin' and bangin' and screamin' like a Banshee! He was gonna shoot it right through the window but when he raised the shotgun it shot off down through the yard, rollin' like a ball, fast as lightning! We saw it in flashes of lightning goin' further on out down our lane! It went down in the woods across the highway!"

I almost pointed out that she said she didn't see it, that he did, but I don't want to be contrary while she's being so talkative. Then she answers the question I wasn't going to ask, about her seeing it,

"When he came back to bed he was white as a ghost, got into bed a' shakin'!" She never saw anything. I doubt Mr. Uhler's tale would be half as...detailed.

I want to say, 'Mrs. Uhler, you're full of... it', but I'm pretty sure she already knows that. I just maintain a face of awe, nod and wait. Leo's standing where he can see my face. Without looking I can see his smile. He looks away from Mrs. Uhler. I'm afraid I'll grin.

"Don't be out here at night!" she warns. "That thing's terrible! It's gonna storm Friday night! Weatherman said. Don't be out and about! Lock your doors!" She sort of does that clawed-hand thing and her face contorts and is really funny! I want to go before I can't stop from laughing.

"Thank you Mrs. Uhler," I say, pretty sure she won't have anything to add. But she does, "See that white thing on the gate post down by the mailbox?" She's pointing. I see it, something white on top of the post, the post for the little gate through the fence to the mailbox. "That's the bloody thing I found the next day when I went to check the mail! It was layin' right here in the yard." She points to the ground right beside the walk where she's standing. I look beyond at the rain barrel. "I picked it up and carried it down there before I thought about it. Rain washed out the blood, but you can tell it was a bandage!"

I thank her again, go down the lane. Leo's right beside me, getting ahead of me, so I reach and take his hand, push him back and go a little faster! He's pretending to try to hold me back, go faster, but I can see he's foolin', clutching at my arm, my back, letting me get ahead. We laugh. I like his laugh. I like him clutching at me, knowing he could have me if he wanted to. We get there, and look, and it's a white thing that has been slipped over the small black locust gate post, with raggedly white, or off-white cloth, and...short extensions, like for...a thumb, and an index finger, and a middle finger, and...it's...a glove; a cuffless, fingerless glove. What's left of one.

Leo says, quietly, conspiratorily, "Mrs. Uhler imputes a lot of thinking to the Thang, what it thinks, its confusion about glass." I hadn't thought of that. My Leo did!

"I know who," I say aloud, "but I still don't know why." Leo grins, nods.

6. The Ever-Elapsing Moment

"There's just one more person we need to talk to," Leo says.

I'm looking at him and...I'm not sure...who he means. Then I am.

He looks at me, must see my first perplexity, my face change as I realize who. He grins. He's quiet. He's walking beside me, on the left, facing traffic, going back down the road. He steps behind me and ushers me off the blacktop into the narrow gravel berm beside the ditch, to let a car go by. It swings over, straddles the center line, away from us.

He touches my back, ushers me back onto the blacktop, comes up beside me. I'm looking at the little sh...rascal and he's blank-faced, then glances at me and grins.

"Silas Mills," he says.

Well, of course! I knew that. I didn't think of that. I never thought about what I would ask Mr. Silas. He's grouchy and doesn't like to talk to people. I never thought of approaching him. He never told anybody he'd seen the Bloody Fingers 'Thang'. Why would I talk to him? He was my number one suspect! I was just going to investigate and confirm it and...I don't know...tell people or not tell people...I haven't decided. But...I never thought of talking to the actual...Bloody Fingers man. Why is he out there in the middle of a terrible storm, peeking in people's windows?

We're there, in the road, his gravel out on the blacktop like everybody else's. I look up through the big old pine trees that are a forest between his house and the road. You can't see the house, just the roof, a little bit. The pines line his lane, both sides, making it shady, dark, even in broad daylight. It curves at the top, just...a...darkness up there. The clouds block the sun and make it darker. I'm looking on down the road at my cozy house! Leo's starting up the drive!

Leo! Shouldn't...we...have a plan first? I go, catch up, take his hand. He marches on, stops, turns to me, kisses me! This is no time for...well...okay...just a... little time for. He grins, those chocolate eyes, the warm summer air. I'm a little dizzy. He's gentle, pulls my hand, leads on. "What are you going to ask him?" I say.

"You'll think of something!" he says.

"Me?" I squeal! "You're the one who..." I can't finish as he whirls, gently, takes me in his arms, kisses me again. Leo, you persuasive devil you! You're...we're...getting awfully good at this.

The drive levels off, curves to the left, broadens into a two-lane space around his out-buildings. His house is a cabin! A log cabin! You can only see the roof from the road. I didn't know it was a log cabin...it's...quaint...and... a little spooky. The clouds move and sunlight comes in and...it's...quaint again, a pretty little...house. v
...remember...the...the feel...of the place. It's...not scary.

I've...I've been here...before. Once. With my Dad. I
I hear someone chopping wood. There are cords and cords of wood between the trees on both sides of the driveway. Silas sells wood in winter. I guess he cuts it and chops it in summer. My Dad worked with him a lot when he wasn't working at the mill. Between us we have seventy acres of trees, the Mills Farm and Field Farm. Dad took me back in the woods on...the dirt bike..showed me where they'd cut selectively, this tree, not that one, left many a dead tree standing, for the things that lived in and on them, bugs and birds that pecked a hole in the soft wood and laid eggs in there. He showed me a dead tree with a million acorns stuck in holes by some bird. I need to remember that and tell Leo. We'll go back in the woods and find it.

Now...the idea of the Bloody Fingers Thing gets an axe in its hands and I'm scared again! What if...Mr. Silas...Mr. Mills...has gone mad, was always mad and we didn't know it? What if he's a Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde thing? Thang.

"Hello!"

Leo! Leo's calling out! Leo!

"Hello!" he yells again. I stop, pull at his hand. A floppy-hatted head peeps around the corner of the cabin! Silas Mills! Yes! It's the face I saw at our kitchen window!

He steps out, axe in a white-gloved hand. He looks at us! He's coming! He's walking fast!

"Miss Harrison!" he says, a voice neither soft nor loud. "Willie Mae."

...It!...he!... knows my name! I raise my hand, in lieu of finding my voice!

"Hello, Mr. Mills," Leo's voice..."I'm Leo Palmer. You know Miss Harrison. We're offering to shovel the gravel the storm washed out on the new blacktop and bring it back up peoples' driveways. Would you like to have yours shoveled?"

"Shoveled?" Silas says. "No. I'll...I can...I'll get to it. I'll do that. People paying you to do that? No, I can do for myself."

It's a question. He's asking us if we're getting paid.

"Yes Sir!" Leo says. "I'm not sure when we could get to it. We've got the Uhlers and the Anglers and, Willie Mae's already done hers. And Mr. Crabtree's."

He's making it sound like I did Mr. Crabtree's already. I want to clarify but my voice sticks in my throat! I'm looking at the white, cuffless, fingerless gloves, the axe, the floppy hat, the face...the face I saw near the kitchen window! ...rain dripping off...that hat! ...that nose! That white...bandaged hand...white gloved hand. If I had any doubt...

Mr. Silas Mills, The Bloody Fingers 'Thang'!

He looks... just sort of frowny, a little confused.

"If you'd like it shoveled, we're charging fifteen dollars," Leo's saying, still trying to...sell the job. He knows my twenty dollar asking price, letting them talk us down to fifteen! Why isn't he...He knows. Leo knows he's not going to get the job here from Mr. Silas. He's just...engaging him, getting him talking. He's not even acting like he's talking to The Bloody Fingers Thing... guy! He's just being...personable...professional...abstract...business as usual. His voice is...deeper...a little...more adult...a...little less my Leo.

"I'll...get to it. I can do it myself," Silas is saying. "I just gotta find time."

Leo is pointing to a shed, eight rough poles, no walls, a roof. He asks,

"Is this where you make your rain barrels?"

"Yes!" Silas says. He sets the axe against the stone chimney, walks over to the shed, starts talking about the rain barrels, which are just fifty-five gallon drums. He's got one up on a table of three cut sections of log, making it high enough for a man to work on without bending over, tells Leo that. He's showing Leo how he'll fit it with a tap, a faucet, like ours, bucket high low on the side, for taking water out, and the lever device at the top, looking like it could be fitted right into a downspout. Leo lets go my hand, reaches and flips the lever. They're talking, like men talk, questions, answers, questions, answers. I'm looking around at a dozen rain-barrels, all made the same, already made.

"But folks don't use 'em...don't use 'em right," Mr. Mills is saying. "You've got to go out and turn the lever to collect the rain, and when the barrel's full, you've got to go out and flip it back, and let the rain go on down the spout, or it overflows right there at the corner of the house and goes ever' which-way! Water 'll eat a house! You've got to keep water off 'n a house! If you don't flip the lever back hit 'll wash out the mortar right out o' your foundation, cut a trench flowin' down your yard. Your Daddy Jim ought to know that!"

I look, and...Mr. Mills, Mr. Silas...is looking at me! My...my Daddy Jim?

"Your Daddy Jim used to help me make these. We just started last April, last year. Made these and sold a few."

He's said it twice now. I stutter..."You...You...You knew my Dad?"

I said it like a question, but I know he did. Dad would work with him, cutting wood, selling firewood when he wasn't working at the mill. They had a lot of what he called 'down time', fixin' things or changing things around at the mill. That's when he'd do 'Whatever work' with Mr. Silas. "Jim...Jim Harrison." I don't think I've...said Dad's name...since...

"Your Daddy Jim used to help me around here, from the time he was a boy! His uncle Stewart used to work with me, brought Jim along when...when...he came to live on Field Farm."

I'm seeing...my father's face...from pictures...as a boy...and imagining...him moving about this...this space.

When? When he came...to Field Farm? When did he come? I imagined him always here, growing up here...Uncle Stewart? I thought...Grampa Stewart was Dad's Dad!

"When...did he come here?" Leo's voice is speaking. In my head, I'm asking the same question. My voice is the faraway one.

"Oh! My!" Mr. Silas says, rubs his chin, that one-third of a gloved hand...coming up...like...it did that night in the storm. "It was when he was just about this 'n's size." He gestures at me. "His Momma, Stewart's sister, couldn't keep him no more." He stops. "Don't...you know..." He stops. "Well, your Momma should tell you about all that. Rita Harrison...She married a Harrison...She...She couldn't...She couldn't keep Jim no more. He came here for the summer and never went...home again, you know, to stay."

"He chopped wood! We made good money! His uncle Stewart and I stayed partners but Jim came and did all the work. Stewart just put the money in back when he and I started in business. Jim got to playin' football and got irregular with comin' to work, but he came when he could. Then he passed away, Stewart, and his wife shortly after. Funny how...one goes...and then the other don't last long after." He looks away at the cabin. "Me and Jimmy kept workin'. It was young Jim set us to work makin' rain barrels. It was his idee." He says 'idee'. "They sell, but slow. So Jim and I cut wood in summer and sell it in winter and had our own business. Then he got Field Farm, and got the job at the mill, got married, had family to tend to." He's smiling at me, very kind face, very...friendly. "Just worked irregular these last years. Still a hell...heck...of a wood chopper!"

I...I knew that. Dad sold wood. People...would come, still come, pull up our drive. Mom goes out, me out on the front...porch. Back...in March...I started hearing her tell them we didn't sell wood any more...that...Dad had died. They...would talk a little longer. She'd tell them to go see Mr. Mills. Sometimes they'd look at me...and say...what Mr. Silas says now,

"You look just like your Daddy!" and Mr. Silas asks, "How is your Daddy? He got busy workin' at the mill and with family, I reckon, and quit on me."

Leo's looking at me...looks back at Mr. Silas, says, "Mr. Mills, uh, Willie Mae's father...Jim...passed away. You didn't know?"

"Lawd!" Mr. Silas shouts. He does a spin! I swear he turned 180 degrees around and came to a stop facin' us again! "Little...Jimmy? Why he was just a boy! Willie Mae...I'm...I'm so sorry to hear of it! When...when did..."

"It's been...It was March first, Mr. Silas," I hear that 'other' voice saying. I try to clear my throat. "...March first. He...wrecked up in the woods on his dirt bike, came home and just laid down out on the front porch. He just died in his sleep."

I don't tell them...Mom woke up and heard the dirt bike, and heard him come in the porch down below their bedroom, and she went on back to sleep. Then she woke up but he hadn't come to bed. She had heard him come in. She woke up and came downstairs looking for him, found him out there laying on the glider. She said she knew he was dead. Just...no...life in him. She could tell. Just gone. Peaceful like that.

"Oh, I gotta set down," Silas says, moves to a section of log, standing on end. He sits, hands on knees, eyes that look off into nothingness. Leo takes my hand, steps deeper into the shed, leans on the table, pulls me around to lean beside him, crosses his arms. He's focused on Mr. Silas. He finally looks at me, holds out his arm. I reach for him... He puts his arm around my shoulders, holds my hand with his other hand.

"I guess you don't hear much news from other folks around here, do ya Mr. Mills?" Leo's voice is quiet. He waits for an answer. It comes.

"No, I...I don't...I don't take the paper. I don't...I guess I don't...People don't tell me much. I...stay busy..." He points about the place, says, "Ya have to keep up or ya fall behind. These woods 'll come back and eat ya! Me and...Me and Jimmy...We...We had wood cut ahead. We stayed ahead. He was industrious! That boy. boy and man, could chop wood like...like..."

He's looking off down the lane. I look. Big fat squirrels zip about on the tree trunks lining the drive. Leo changes the conversation, says,

"Those are the fattest squirrels I ever saw! They look like housecats!"

"Yes," Silas says, slow, thoughtful. "My wife...Viola...She won't...She wouldn't...let me shoot 'em. She's been gone...well...since...March...first...too." His gloved hand comes up, rubs his chin. He stands. "Maybe that's...why I didn't hear...about...Jimmy. I...losin' Viola...I thought...I hadn't...We weren't prepared for that..Me and her. I guess...we thought...we'd go on forever. But...folks don't go on forever, do they? Life...is...an ever-elapsing moment...of now."

I'm...repeating his words...in my head. 'Life is...an...ever...'

"I didn't see it in the paper," I tell him. I read the obituaries, think about lives lived. I may have missed it, reading Dad's, and not wanting to know about anyone else's miseries.

"I told 'em at the undertaker's not to put it in there," Silas says. "Didn't need no funeral. All her people are gone, any of 'em that might care about it. Mine too. I told 'em, 'If anybody needs to know they can go to the Courthouse and look it up!"

I shiver. It's warm but...I shiver. The...profundity...of that comment...strikes me as profoundly true. Time...our lives...our...consciousness...is always in the present tense. Even if we're thinking back, we're doing it...remembering...in that...ever...elapsing...moment...of now.

She died at the same time Dad did. We...Mom and I...weren't thinking about anybody else for...a long time. Leo's been...the brightest...reason to...push back the darkness and... think...since...

They're talking. Leo and Silas, back and forth, like men do. Their voices drone in my ears. I'm hearing everything they say, but I'm lost in that ever-elapsing moment. Leo hugs me a little and I stop shivering. I hadn't realized I was shivering. I'm not cold. Leo stands up as Mr. Silas does and now they're talking about rain barrels. I stand up and step out into a shaft of sunlight coming down on the brown creek gravel. I look around thinking how my Dad must have touched things here, done things here. The cut firewood stacked between the trees, where the squirrels run. I have a vague...memory of having been here before, maybe just once. Dad...I remember...Martha...Martha MIlls? Viola? Viola. Flowers in her gardens about the cabin...ceramic plates with cobalt blue designs, cookies and cocoa, her telling stories about the blue people in the blue buggies and the blue houses...the cups and plates...and egg sandwiches.

I see...I see a tombstone. It's up the hill beyond the shed. There are several, eight or ten! But this one's new! Bigger than the others. Folks can start cemeteries on their property out here in the County. I walk up there. I read, "Viola Elaine Mills, born April 3, 1913, died March 1, 1963!" Oh...my...goodness! She was, 1913 to '62, and one more, why she was only fifty one! Dad was only thirty. Some...folk...die young.

I turn back to the shed. I can just see their legs, the moss covered shingles of the shed roof. The sun's warm on the top of my head. I turn my face up, close my eyes. I cross my arms, feel like I'm huggin' myself, 'cause I need huggin'. Leo's talking about the rain barrels...still... Mr. Mills is saying, "People don't use 'em right. They don't turn the levers when it's dry so it catches the rain when the rain does come, and don't come out and turn it back when the barrel's full! You gotta keep water off 'n a house. Water will eat a house, or barn, or anything. That's what gutters are for, to get the water off and send it away from the foundation!"

Leo's...what... He's asking, "Couldn't you design it so the water just automatically flows back into the downspout when it gets full?"

And Mr. Silas, Mr. Mills, is saying how you'd lose six inches of water off the top of the barrel if you set it up that way, the 'rig', he calls it, coming back out...but...then...he's excited! He's talking fast, drawing on the tabletop with a nail. They're jabbering...like men do.

I turn my face up to the sun again, listen to men talking, the skittering of fat squirrels on pine bark, hear a dog bark somewhere, hear a sqwawky blue jay, see that flash of color, cardinals on a pump handle, male and female, three little white butterflies, flittering around each other and off down the hill.

I'm in the ever-elapsing moment of now!

Going down the road, Leo's excited. He wants to get the wheelbarrow and shovels and push broom and go get the fifteen dollar jobs done today! I remind him of the storm coming. His eyes look far off. He's almost grinning to himself. He says, "A dark and stormy night!"

"I guess I can tell Mom she can stop writing stupid stories about The Bloody Fingers 'Thang'," I say, out loud, musing to myself.

Leo stops, there in the road, takes both my hands, says, "Don't tell...anybody...anything."

He says it with that lovely Leo smile, those luscious lips, those brown eyes looking into mine. "Let it be what it will be. It will fade away, be a story we tell around here about the Summer of '63. Unresolved, undiscovered, unexplained, just...something that happened... in the ever-elapsing moment..." He goes on, "It's far more interesting as a mystery, and people need a mystery, something banal to think about, instead of...the world today. Don't explain it. The explanation's not interesting. The story is! Let it stay a mystery."

I won't go on with my story. Or will I? The Summer of '63 was beautiful...my first real boyfriend...a boy...my friend, who took care of me...didn't want anything more from me than I wanted to give him...my first kiss and...learning about...stuff...until...the year wasn't beautiful any more.

In the spring of 1964, with us trying to get over...the past...looking forward to another beautiful summer, Addie...and John...broke up. It was ugly on her. She didn't tell me much. I didn't ask. I figured if she wanted me to know, I'd know. I figured she'd eventually tell me. But she never did yet. She'll tell me when she's ready. John was hard to find. He wasn't working when I'd ride my bike by the garage. I didn't...muster up the personality to ask his Dad anything.

One day I went down to get the mail and Mom came drivin' up the road, pulled in and stopped, waitin' for me to come ride back up the hill.

And damned if who doesn't stop on the road and back in behind her but non-drivin' madman John Holloway! I went and opened his door and hugged him tight without thinkin' twice!

Mom got out, came back, and stood there, counseled John, a long time, standing there leaning on his truck by his open door, by the mailbox, me shuffling the mail, him shufflin' his feet, me trying not to get in the way. It was good advice. She was telling him,

"No! No! You stay in school, I don't care how long it takes. If you drop out they'll draft you immediately! They don't know what they're doing over there! Boys are going over and coming back in a box! Stay in school! I don't care how long it takes, just..."

John didn't listen. I mean, he listened, but didn't take Mom's advice. Or maybe he'd already joined up. I don't know. Maybe he got drafted. He dropped out, and we rode our bikes to the bus station, me and Leo...Addie wouldn't go...and saw him in his uniform...headed for Vietnam.

Leaving, I saw Addie out under the trees. She got on her bike and rode away. John was dead two weeks later, "Laid in the bush for two weeks before they came and got him!", his father told people at the funeral, me listening. He was explaining why they shipped him home in a refrigerated casket. We could look through a little window that had condensation on the inside, and see a tiny face that looked like him, but... Mom talked to the undertaker who told her John came home without any internal organs, and he didn't know why. He was talking about a story in an 'industry' magazine, said they had to learn about diseases people died of, boys might carry back in a corpse that laid in a jungle, and lots of funeral directors were wondering why bodies came back without internal organs. I thought to ask him some time if he ever found out why.

Addie was unconsolable. Just in private with me. As soon as we'd be alone she'd break down, not crying, just...raging...not loud, just...tooth-gritting...bitching! She didn't say his name. She just talked how irrational and evil it was to use teenage boys to wage war. "The average age of the fighting man in Vietnam is nineteen!" she said with conviction. "That means there are that many younger than that over there. "Twenty percent of the soldiers on the front lines are young black men, boys, children like us!" It hurt me so to hear her suffer. I just wanted her to cry. Just cry. I cried. She finally got her face back but I could see a deeper, darkness in her eyes that wasn't there before. We were just little girls and the world was getting into our lives in ways we never imagined. I looked closer in my own eyes in the mirror. I had it too. And my teenage lover, Luscious Lips Leo, was why.

One day, in Miss Oldfield's English Class, the janitor came to get Billy Waltzer, to come and help set up chairs. Addie, damn it to hell Addie, stood up, knocked her desk sideways so it fell back on its legs with a bang, said, "NO!" Yelled it! "Not just no!" she went on, "Hell no! Billy Waltzer needs to be in class, getting an education! Not helping you stack chairs!"

The janitor looked shocked. He looked at Miss Oldfield, gestured at nothing. Sheila Dunn stood up behind Billy, said, "That's right." She said it quietly, but...standing up. Two other girls and a boy over there stood up. It was...damned protest! We were having a protest! Miss Oldfield, just smiled at the janitor, intertwined her fingers and sat there. He went out, closed the door quietly behind him. Miss Oldfield grinned. She always smiled, always quiet, dignified, elicited respect from even the rowdies with her calm demeanor. She grinned, big ol' grin. "You may take your seats," she said, and everyone sat down. Addie straightened her desk, sat down. I could see her hands trembling. She folded them on her desk, her head tilted down. I didn't take my eyes off her until she brought her head up, started moving again.

I realized I hadn't stood up. I did then, stood up, and went around the front of my row, down Addie's aisle. She saw me coming. We looked at each other. I bent over, my elbows on her desk, like we were gonna consult on a...a math problem or something. She sniffled, convulsed, wrapped her arms around me, and cried! I didn't need to cry with her. I'd done my cryin'. Now Addie did hers. She finally got mad enough to...cross over the threshold of emotion...and grieve. There were hands, touching me, reaching over me to touch Addie. There were voices back in the room, quiet voices, and discussion of the American War in Southeast Asia. I never heard it called that before. Someone said John Holloway's name. I heard it. I don't know if Addie did.

Leo and Mr. Silas started working together, cutting trees, chopping firewood, building his new rain barrel design, automated, retrofitting all the rain barrels he could find, Uhler's, Crabtree's, Angler's, ours, so they didn't need the owners to pay attention during dark and stormy nights, and The Bloody Fingers Thing didn't have to come and flip a lever for them right in the middle of the storm. Silas told me he just did it in the middle of a rain storm to feel better about himself, that he caught everyone else not...doin' the right thing, said he'd even look in the window to see if they were just sitting right inside there while the rain barrel was overflowin', eating their house! He laughed. His laugh is...I don't know...generous. It's like he's sharing something, in that laugh. I like it.

Leo says he's saving up to get us a car. "Us," he said. Get 'us' a car.

I'm gonna marry Leo. I'm gonna have sex with him and get pregnant and keep him out of Vietnam to raise our babies. I said babies. I ain't tellin' him my plan...not yet anyway. Mom says men like to think things that...detailed...are their idea. I can make that work. I'm gonna plant more vegetables and flowers and trees. I might let a mulberry grow. I want things to grow and thrive and not die out or be cut down just when they're starting to find their place...in the ever-elapsing moment of now.