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The air was hot and dry. It was Sunday
morning in deep summer and the wind blew up dried grass and rocky sand like the
earth was slowly sifting through a wheat turbine. There had been a drought, and
the sun was high and without shape and it burned the eyes to look at.
Warm
air currents slightly shook the old part of the roof. The other half was
sturdier and only shook with a larger wind, but the house had barely survived
tornado season that year. Part of the roof had been replaced the previous
season just as the weather had turned hot. A neighbor’s husband had come
to help them from two miles away. Even in harsh weather, the neighbors were
still that way and people depended on one another.
Air shimmered off the
asphalt and peagravel driveway. Patches of crab grass grew in short tufts
through the stone. Clothes hung on drying lines from the house to a thick
trunked Oak that cooled part of the house and yard and kept the white short
tailed retriever, Lazy, cool. Behind the house, Black Eyed Susans, Gaillardia,
and Meadow Rue stood as if fashioned by oil and thin brush on canvas.
Dawn
and Lily woke nearly in each other’s arms. Dawn’s arms were moist
with sweat and were around her sister’s neck. Sometime in the middle of
the night, Dawn had abandoned her own bed for Lily’s, and the two girls
had giggled for awhile before going back to bed, both safe.
The girls liked
Sundays at home together, running through water sprinklers, picking flowers,
and even though they fought with their brother, Martin Jr., they liked to be
around him, too. And to have their mother, Lena Williams, so near. The school
week was long and the bus ride each way an hour and sometimes their mother
worked evenings. They looked forward to the weekends so they could play and
smile and be with their family.
Yesterday, the foursome had spent time down
by the small lake about a mile distant. Both girls still smelled of lake and
algae even though they had hosed down the night before. It was the smell of
innocence and youth.
Lena had heard the two girls late last night, but
didn’t bother saying anything. They could stay up late on Saturday night
if they wanted to, but they had to get up early to get to church on time on
Sunday. Sunday was a time for relaxation, love, and the Lord. It was a time to
prepare for the coming school week that Lena believed so important for her
children. “Education is the way of the Lord,” Lena would always
say.
Martin Jr. woke up irritated. His sisters had been giggling late into
the night, he had been scolded for being late to dinner and had to put up with
his sisters’ smirking, and he despised Sundays in general. He was twelve
years old, the big brother, and the man of the house. His father left it to him
that way, and on some Sundays, he didn’t know why he had to go see him.
All his friends were out on Sundays, after church, where he saw them all when
they drove past, down by the lake, or laying lazy in hammocks out at the Boden
farm. They chased the cows around until Mr. Boden would come out and scold them
to quit. Last week, Martin Jr. was told two of the horses were getting it on.
His buddies, when they were telling him the story, were laughing their asses
off, but Martin didn’t find it funny, partly because he wasn’t there,
and partly because he couldn’t quite picture it. It was tough being the
only man of the house.