Lamb

Tommie and Lamb were out behind the cabin halfway to the hay rake and investigating a giant bear shit covered with fur when the white car came slowly rolling over the pockmarked road. She saw it first.

“Hey,” she said and pointed. “The dinner guests.”

Lamb looked up, squinted across the distance. He turned back to the girl. “Inside.” He took her under the arm and started down the slope to the cabin door.

“Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” He opened the door and took a moment to look out to the road as he shoved the girl inside.

His armpits and groin broke out in sweat. He pushed her forward and she kept looking back at him and finally they twisted and stumbled into the cabin and he got the closet door open. The white car turned into the dirt drive and he put Tommie into the closet. Just lifted her by the shoulders and set her in the closet. “This is it, Tom. This is our first big test. Foster was nothing compared to this okay? You good for it?”

“Who is it?”

“Do you understand the kind of trouble we’ll be in if this person sees you even once?” He held the closet door open two inches and talked into it. “Don’t make a sound. Oh, Em, I’m so sorry. It might be awhile in there.” Outside, the engine of the car stopped. Tommie sat down on a pile of old boots and a fishing net and a big white cement bucket. “Who is it, Gary?”

“I think it’s an old friend, Tom. You have to give me your word. Are you good for this?” She stared up at him from the floor. “This is a gift to us. If she comes and goes without seeing you, I will never get in trouble, right?”

“How did she know you were here?”

“I made a mistake, Tom. I made a miscalculation. You might hear some hard things. Tell me you love me and you’ll be patient and breathe like I taught you.” Last thing he saw were her eyes, rounder than ever, her little head nodding in the dark. He shut the closet, heard it latch, and went to the front door, and here she comes across the dying, splintery lawn and through the October morning calling out his name: David.

He met her in the cold sunlight and quieted her mouth with his. Took her around the waist, took a long drink of her hair pouring like liquid night down the back of her smooth green jacket, took her bag.

“You came all the way out here for me, didn’t you?” He spoke into her mouth.

She pressed her smile against his.

“You drove through the night?”

“Mm-hm.” She looked up at him. “Hey. What’s the matter?” She looked behind him to the cabin door. She put a hand to his forehead, to his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I saw you.” He pointed up at the ridge where he and the girl had been headed. “I ran all the way down.”

She just smiled at that.

“You must be exhausted.” He opened the cabin door. “Here,” he said, put his hand on her bottom as she stepped inside.

“Oh, David. I didn’t think I was going to see this place again.”

He quieted her mouth with his. “Know something? Neither did I,” he whispered. She looked up at him, her face blank. “I thought I was through with you. I thought I’d gotten all the good out of you a man could get.”

“You’re panting.”

“Well, I’m old. What,” he said. “You smile. But you ought to know by now how much I actually despise you.” He turned her around, guided her to the couch. “I mean really loathe you.” He sat her down. “I would bet,” he whispered, pressing her lengthwise into the dusty plaid upholstery, “that you want me to show you how much I hate you.”

“You’re not going to have a heart attack on me, are you?”

“Oh, shut up.” She moved to respond and he put his finger to her lips. “No talking now,” he said and drove his hand up into her hair. “I said shut up.”

When the sound of tap water rushing through the pipes filled the walls, Lamb opened the closet door. The girl was hugging herself in the dark, her face wet with tears, the end of her sleeve wet and snotty. He held it open just a crack and whispered when he spoke. “Good girl,” he said. “It’s okay. We were just talking out here. Did you hear us talking?”

She shook her head.

“You’re not the kind of girl who would say that and keep everything she’d heard to herself, are you?”

She shook her head.

They looked each other in the eye, and for one long moment neither spoke.

“It’s an old friend,” he said. “An old girlfriend, right? I’m going to get you out of here, okay? I’m going to open the door one more time in five minutes. You need to be good for this. Are you good for this?” She nodded. “That’s my girl. I’ll explain when she goes, okay? I love you. You and you alone, Emily Tom. She is not staying long, right?” The toilet flushed. “When I open the door again, count to twenty. After twenty seconds, run straight to the shop. Quiet as a mouse.”

Nod.

“You sit tight in there till I come out. You’re angry with me right now. You’re confused. But you trust me. You’re going to be cool, calm, and collected until we talk, right? And then you can give me another black eye if you want to.”

“Okay.”

“Am I making the wrong decision trusting you out there? That’s my girl. Good.” He kissed his fingers and bent and touched them to her uplifted mouth and closed the door.

In the shop she stood still hugging herself in the dark. She looked around, then walked uncertainly into the bunk room, looking back as she stepped forward. She undressed, pulled on her nightgown and long johns, and put herself in the top bunk. In a minute she sat up, climbed back down, picked up her toothbrush, and put her feet into her slippers. She lifted her fleece off the little metal chair beside the beds, pulled it over her head, and slipped out the back door and ran across the dead broken grass to the dirt road. The Fosters. She could go there. She stood out on the road and looked west toward the hook where Foster’s little white house blinked in the cold. Then hugging herself again, she turned back to the shop and returned to her little bunk.