Darkness Before Light (3 of 3)

Darkness Before Light (3 of 3)

I woke as a strong gust of wind blew in through a shattered glass window. Not completely cognizant of where I was, in a barely conscious fog I watched as a pair of swallows played follow-the-leader before vanishing from my sight. Slowly it came to me. Tucked in fetal position, I stretched out, turning over slowly so as not to wake the mistress of Holly’s heaven. But there was no need, except for me, the bed was empty.

We had fallen asleep in each other’s arms. I don’t know what it was like for her, but I had found the experience perfectly satisfying, almost natural, just like her kisses. We had been like two spoons in a drawer, dozing off with my left arm laying on top of hers. Previously, I had never before experienced such an intimacy even though married to the wicked witch of the east. Judging by the light outside, I guessed at noonish.

“Up from the grave he arose,” Holly turned to sing as I sauntered into the kitchen with the little hand on the ten and big hand on the five.

“Been up long?” I yawned.

“Not much,” the lady of the house briskly replied, flipping sizzling bacon while spooning grease over two sunny side up eggs. “You saved me the trouble of running up to wake you. Now, be a good lad and pour us both some juice and sit down.”

Our conversation over eggs, crispy bacon and wheat toast was light and friendly. We were each feeling the other out to see if the other thought the night before was now being judged a mistake in the sobering light of day.

“I’ll fix that light outside and try and find those hinges in the shed if you think you know how to take those windows apart so I drop them off at Ed’s,” Holly remarked as if this was just another day on the farm.

“I was looking at them after I woke up. Shouldn’t take much if you’ve got a good claw hammer and nice big flat screwdriver.”

“I got something better than that, Buster. There’s one of them Magic Bars or whatever they are called, in the shed hanging above the bench on the left side of the door just as you walk in. I know it is there because I used it the other day to pull some nails out. It’s like a little crow bar.”

“I know what they are. That will work.”

“I think Ed closes at one on Saturdays. Think you can do it by then?”

Pushing myself away from the table, taking one last gulp of juice, I leaned down and kissed the top of her head, rushing out the door before she could finish her mouthful and return the favor. The tool was right where she said it was only half of the roof of the old shed was laying on top of it. The pump house had faired better but the barn had most of its most sheet metal roofing bent back at forty-five degrees on the southwestern side. It was a pretty good indicator which direction the storm had come. A tall ladder, a good hand sledge and few roofing nails would put Holly’s barn back in order before the end of the day.

I had all six window frames in the back of my truck, about to honk the horn when she appeared at the door, holding up one finger. I started the engine, backed up and pulled forward just as she closed the five panel door behind her, scurrying in front of the truck as I reached over and swung the passenger side door open for her.

“That was Wilma Thompson. She was going to stop by this morning to check to make sure I was alright. I told her that I was going to stop over there this morning to check to make sure they were alright.” Holly laughed before continuing. “Apparently it was a tornado. Poor Wilma, she began to cry because one of their horses had been killed and if that wasn’t bad enough, they lost one of their big blue silos. She said they had just been emptied of their grain a couple of weeks ago, otherwise they might have survived. I guess the main house is okay with minimal damage to the barns. Nothing too serious she said but those big blue glass lined silos are not easily replaced. If not today, I think I’ll make it over there tomorrow. Maybe I’ll buy a cake mix when we are in town.”

I sat quietly as Holly jabbered on. I felt comfortable with her being comfortable with me. Just some farmer guy driving into town with his farmer’s wife. Holly had forgone the men’s underwear today in favor of a pair of tan cotton shorts and a button down collar, faded pink sleeveless blouse that buttoned up the front. Surprisingly, she had a bra on underneath –white. A pair of well worn leather flats on her feet completed her outfit. As I pulled into the alley behind Ed’s hardware store, I began bracing myself for what a talk-of-the-town stir our being seen together would all create. I wasn’t brave enough yet to just damn the torpedoes and park out front.

For a Saturday after such a severe storm, we found main street practically empty. Other than seeing leaves strewn on some of the manicured lawns, there weren’t any real signs of the storm that had passed just five miles to the south of the town.

I unloaded the window frames and leaned them up against one of the backroom work benches while Holly disappeared to go up front to talk to big Ed. I waited patiently for her return. As luck would have it, no one had ***** the odd couple as we pulled out of the alley before pointing my rust bucket wagon in the shortest direction back to the house I vacated the night before.

Half suspecting to see a regular sized moving van outside, the driveway was empty. Two neighbors down, one of the k**s was out mowing the lawn but nobody else was in sight. That’s when I noticed that front door had been left open.

“Stay put, no matter what, okay?”

“Go get’m tiger” Holly glanced a smile my way.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought. I half expected to see the walls spray painted and clothes strewn everywhere. Though it appeared that someone had searched through my dresser drawers, only the four-poster bed, complete with canopy, seemed to be missing. The stereo and tv sat where I had left them. The large wedding picture above the tv remained behind as well.

Grabbing a few items of clothing, throwing them into a small over-night bag along with shaving cream, toothbrush and three other items that I thought might be just be up Holly’s alley.

“Well?” Holly inquired as I hopped back into the truck.

“She’s been at the house. They took her bed and dresser and the rest of her clothes but left everything else. I should have bought a new set of locks while we were at Ed’s. But other than my tools down in the basement and the lawn mower in the garage, there really isn’t much else to take unless they come back for the tv and that painted wedding photo Martha just had to have. I have half a mind to go back in and get it drop back off at her folks place.”

“Ya, with me sitting right here next to ya. That’d raise more than a few eye brows.” Holly said it in such a tone voice so as to make me recognize the self serving naiveté of such an idea.

“I suppose you’re right. Just a thought. Let’s get out of here.”

The sun had long passed midway through its journey overhead by the time we made it back to the house. I got the new set of hinges on the rear screen door while Holly cleaned up glass and fitted cardboard into the window slots upstairs. With that finished, I found the extension ladder and pounded back down the half dozen or so of tin roofing sheets on the barn that had been pulled away by the wind. Finding the wood solid underneath I made quick work of nailing it all back into place. By then, Holly met me at the light pole with fresh lemonade and a one hundred watt light bulb. Purple martin’s dive-bombed me, falling out of their house ten feet further up the pole from the barnyard light.

“Well what’s next,” I inquired, looking around the barnyard, trying to overlook the shed roof that had fallen in. Holly just stared at me and nodded at the shed with a tilting of the head.

“Don’t stop now, Buster. It shouldn’t take much. I’ll get some two by fours from the barn and you drag around those four pieces of plywood from behind the pump shed.”

What Holly had imagined to be a half hour job turned into a four hour minor project. But it was done and it was done right the first time. Tearing off the entire roof on the left side of the shed, nailing in new rafters and cutting and fitting the plywood, salvaged from some -only God knows where, old billboard. Once again the red and black painted plywood advertised —Rock City. Finishing the roof as Holly finished hauling away the old roof to the burn pile and straightening up what she could on the inside, together we stood looking at each other, sweaty, dirty but satisfied with a good days work.

“This calls for a celebration,” the landowner announced.

“And just what did you have in mind my dear?” I asked as she replied,

“How about getting cleaned up and driving all the way over to Farmers City and get something to eat at Cy’s?” to which I answered, “But that will call for a dress!” to which she countered, “and dress pants and a proper shirt for you. Don’t worry, I took a peek what you put in your bag. I ironed them and hung them up while you were still work’n on the barn.” Left speechless, all I could do was posit a “Hmmm.”

Careful not to get distracted, I showered downstairs while Holly got ready upstairs. “Don’t come up here,” I was commanded as I started up the stair after growing impatient after waiting for her in the kitchen for a short eternity. It was getting be habit— finishing off the last of the last lemonade. “I’m just about finished. Go sit out in the truck. I’ll be down there in two minutes.”

“Can I time you?” I shouted back up at her. Holly did not dignify the question with a reply.

Every man has done it- waited on a woman. Martha had all but put me to hives waiting for her to get out to the truck before heading off to church. And to be fair, most times it wasn’t worth the wait. Martha wasn’t ever going to win a beauty pageant. No one was fooling them selves over that. Round, common-as-a-penny face, with white chubby arms and flocked dresses complete with padded shoulders and wide collars, none of which ever seemed to quite fit her correctly.

Holly was good with her promise. No sooner had I started the truck than the kitchen light went out and the yellow tinted barnyard light powered on. There in all its glory, Rock Falls again returned to its proper place. By the time I had turned back around, Holly was already sliding into the open door. I let out a slow whistle.

“Just keep your hands to yourself and your eyes on the road,” Holly **** gaily while scooting over across the Farm & Fleet Saddle blanket seat cover, kissing me before ordering, “Put this thing in gear buddy boy! I’m ready to party! Woo hoo!”

I gave out a wolf howl and then headed us back north toward town before turning west, then south again for a few miles before turning dew east. Cy’s was known for its 24 oz farm raised steaks and a secret creamy garlic sauce for it’s over sized salads. I had never ordered one. Bigger men than me ordered them or a party of two who would split it. I had had their twice baked potatoes which they were also famous for. Mostly I had ordered their smothered-and-died-in garlic butter poorboys. I had heard their pressure fried chicken was also to die for but had never order that either. All in all, Cy’s was a typical, night out on the town, hard working farmers watering hole.

It took us a little under an hour to arrive there. As expected the parking lot was full to over flowing, but the line of waiting-to-get-in had largely disappeared. A couple of stragglers chomping on big cigars, stood outside as I pulled up to the door.

“What ‘ca doing honey,” Holly asked.

“Well I thought I’d be nice and drop you off while I go and look for a place to park this thing.”

“Ah-ah. I’ve got something to show you first. Go ahead, pull on over by the ball park. It aint gonna rain tonight so we can walk it.”

Doing as I was told, I drove on out the other side of the lot and on across the street then down into the little league parking lot. Like the one back home, a single corrugated covered light bulb waited for us to park under. Only two other cars where parked there beside our truck. I took note that they were each facing toward Cy’s while we parked facing the other end of the lot.

“Rarely see Cy’s so packed as to have over flow parking make it over here,” Miss High Society informed me.

“Okay, I’m starve’n. What’s this that you’ve got to show me?”

“Okay, but you gotta promise me that you’ll stay over there. You promise?”

“Well I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not!”

“Come on, Buster, promise me.”

“Oh alright. I promise.”

Leaning back against the passenger side door, Holly scooted a bent left leg up against the back of the seat while her right leg remained stationed under the glove box. Smiling a big shit eat’n grin, proud as all get out, Holly lifted her skirt.

“See? I did it just for you.”

Holly’s chosen manner of dress for the night was a sheer aqua colored top beneath which an ivory colored slip half hid a white sheer mesh bra. There was no attempt to hide the pointy breasts or the ever present nipples. The top was worn loose, flowing out over a short black skirt. With skirt raised beneath the light almost directly overhead, Holly revealed why I had had to shower downstairs. Though the thicket of hair on top remained, Holly’s pocket full of miracles was now clean shaven. Long deforested lips now dangled freely as she teased my senses, gliding a lip-parting finger through her excitement.

“You like?”

“Shit, Holly! What’s not to like? Forget that steak, I’m eating at home tonight!”

Dropping her skirt, Holly managed to lift the door handle and turn to spring out onto the lot, screaming in mock terror before I could reach over and capture her now naked kitty to pet it once or twice myself.

“Now you promised, remember. You be good, okay Buster?” Holly teased, bent over while clutching the hem of her skirt before finally turning and running, screaming as I chased her.

I don’t ever remember Holly actually trying out for track in high school, but I do remember when the boys and girls gym classes use to share the track. Holly out ran just about every boy who had been unlucky enough to match race her. It had made the school track coach, who was our gym teacher that day, as mad as hell, yelling at his boys not being able to keep up with a girl. So I knew if Holly put her mind to it and her leg in it, I’d never catch up with her. Still, at the end of the sidewalk that ran the length of Cy’s restaurant, I finally caught up to her. Laughing, she bent at the waist and backed away from me, wagging her finger at me, “Now you mind your manners, Buster Hodges. This here establishment is a respectable place where respectable families bring their c***dren.”

We made it inside the door without me committing any acts of public indecency, but only just barely. There was short line just inside the door that leaned up against a half height paneled wall. Acting all casual, making small talk like normal people do, I reached down and under Holly’s skirt and squeezed her naked rump.

“Stop it,” she muttered under her breath. “Someone might see!” she chastened me, turning quickly away, too quickly, bumping into the elderly man just ahead of her who turned and looked down. “Sorry!” she apologized before turning back to me and whispering, “Now I mean it, stop it! …or no milk and cookies for little Johnnie tonight when we get home!”

“Who you calling little!” I teased her back.

With great reluctance I forewent the usual poorboy drenched in garlic butter, choosing instead the half fried chicken, twice baked potato, and salad. Holly decided on the deep fried cod, twice baked potato and salad for herself. Warm fresh-out-of-the-oven bread was brought to our table as we waited for our salads to be served. Holly also ordered a banana daiquiri which when it arrived, I was sure it would make her a little bit more than a handful on the way home. Then again, I reasoned that Holly was more than able to hold her liquor.

Two hours later, me with my doggie bag, she with her little purse, we walked out hand-in-hand as I imagined heads turning and tongues wagging. Thankfully, however, by that time more than half of Cy’s parking lot was empty. Walking hand-in-hand back down to the ball park parking lot, my old beater of truck sat alone. I walked around to open her door when Holly grabbed my head and kissed me full on the lips. “Thanks,” she said in earnest, looking at me without her normal smile. “This has to be one of the nicest nights out I’ve ever had, Buster Hodges. Honest!”

“Get out of town. What about all those high school dates?”

“No, I being dead serious, Buster. I always attracted the kind of scags who just want to take me out back and do the bump and grind in their car before shoving me out and heading back home to their mommies. No one has ever just taken me out to eat, dressed up and all, and just sat across the table and talked to me like you did tonight.”

I leaned over and kissed her, holding her chin with one hand while leaving the other tucked in my pants. I wanted her to know it hadn’t all been an act. I too had enjoyed our night out despite paying a bill that was nearly a third of my weekly salary.

Holly stepped back away as that mischievous smile once again lit up her face. “Turn around,” was all she requested. Knowing it was pointless to argue, I obliged her. “Don’t turn around just yet,” she again warned as I heard the truck door open then, “Okay, you can look now.”

No longer clutching her purse, I watched as Holly struck a pose, revealing beneath that single, bug inviting, light bulb burning all too brightly overhead, that she had removed her bra and slip.

I suppose things would have gone a lot differently if it hadn’t been for Barney Fife and his space invading spotlight. There was no verbal call out but the spotlight made it clear, “Leave or else.” So I patted Holly’s tush and closed the door behind her, walking over to my side of the truck, doggy bag still in hand, waving to the small town black and white.

Two miles outside of town, after Barney had stopped following us, I pulled over to the side of the road. It’s one of the many blessing of country living —no one in sight or on the road except the bugs splattering my windshield.

“Come over here,” I beckoned my wench. Sliding to sit next to me, both of us took a few more seconds to just look each other in the eye. “Holly, I’m really sorry that your life has been such a shit. And I really would like to keep seeing you. But I felt like everyone at Cy’s was talking about us. I didn’t recognize anyone, but then maybe someone recognized us -me the married man, you, well… you the easy lay. I think it would just be wiser if I got through the divorce before seriously, I mean . . .I mean if you want to, before I seriously start courting you.”

Her eyes welled up and her mouth went all limp before Holly threw her arms around me, watering my ear and shirt collar pretty good before she grabbed my face and kissed me as full and meaningful as any woman ever had.

“Oh silly, of course I want you to court me. I’ve never been courted before. I’ve been promised before, but I trust you.” Holly dropped her hands, turning half away before resting them in her lap. Looking out into the night, Holly spoke. “I know things kinda have gotten carried away with us and all. I know that for you this is all new and you find it fun and games, but I’m not always miss bubbly or miss I-can-conquer-the-world. I have my crying spells and I have those times when I just want to be left alone. I’ve been alone all my life, Buster, and I’ve kinda grown use to it. All I’m saying is that I’m not all lace and laughter.”

I brushed her corn silk hair back off one side of her face, kissing her forehead as I pulled her in close to me. “Holly, I mean you no harm. And I’m sure you know that there are no knights in shining armor. I have my quirks too. And I can get stubborn and hot headed as well. But there’s one thing I don’t have . . . I don’t have running feet. I didn’t run away from Martha. She and her mom pushed me out of the home and marriage that I was trying my best to make for them.”

“I know, Buster. I know you’re good people. I know you aint never gonna make me rich and that you wouldn’t want that even if it came to you. We’re both simple people. I like that about you. I don’t have to pretend being something I’m not. I can clean up a little, but I’m that girl you saw standing outside her back door yesterday afternoon when you pulled up. I’m that girl who doesn’t think twice about having to shove cardboard in her windows or needing a fancy car. But you need to think about this and think about it seriously. I’ll never be able to give you c***dren!”

That was probably the biggest consideration for both of us, not withstanding getting Martha out of the way –c***dren. I had always wanted c***dren as had Holly, but perhaps in a less substantial way because her family life hadn’t been very good. I also thought if she ever had k**s, they would suffer because of the stigma that would ever haunt her as being the town slut, as untrue as any town rumor ever was.

We made it back to the house pushing the speedo no more than forty-five. Life had slowed for us and I think it was in the back of my head not to rush pulling back into her drive. It had taken a little less than an hour to get there, but a full hour and half to get back. A lazy moon was playing peek-a-boo with a few whiffs of stringy clouds as my rust bucket beater labored to get back up her drive. Every imaginable denizen bug or insect was buzzing around the yellow light bulb as we pulled around back. Holly scooted over to passenger side and waited for me to open her door. Only a few hours before I would have participated in the old bump and grind, but a seriousness had cast its veil over our youthful eroticism. Holly extended a hand as I helped step back out into night.

“I’m sorry for getting all teary-eyed, Buster.”

I was quick with a finger to her lips. “Hush now. Let’s just enjoy what we do have at the moment –which is each other.” Brushing her hair back away from her face, I lifted her chin. “Besides, I haven’t had desert yet. And ever since we arrived at Cy’s, you’ve had me dreaming about eating another piece of your sweet sweet pie!”

Normally Holly would have laughed or screamed and made me chase her as she played keep away. But tonight she just gave a weak smile and lowered her head, taking hold of my hand, quietly leading me back inside her house, with that little purse, neatly folded slip and dangling wisp of a bra in the other hand.

We fell asleep in each others arms as we had the night before, exhausted by the events of the day and then our extended love playing. I think I actually surprised Holly a time or two, me being practically so virginal and all. She tried to convince me she had never come as hard or as often. I found that hard to believe but there was something in the way she said it that reassured me, that at least in her eyes at that moment, it was true.

It was even harder driving away so early the next morning, thinking it best to have the old beater sitting out in front of the empty homestead when Martha and her parents drove by on their way to church –as I was sure they would. And so it went that fall and winter till at last the divorce was finalized. Martha was a different after that. She never seems so full of herself though her mom continued to turn her nose up at me till her dying day. Eventually Martha married again, some new pastor right out of seminary, I suppose as wet behind the ears as I had been when I married her. But I was happy for her, always asking about her whenever our paths crossed. And she and padre ended up having their basket load of c***dren. The last time I saw her though, there was an emptiness in her eyes as I walked away, Holly beaming, holding on to my arm just like she had that first night as we walked back to the house naked as the day we were born after making love in that little stream.