Our Souls at Night

38

Labor Day they decided to drive out east on the highway to Chief Creek. The creek was shallow and sandy-bottomed with grass and willows grown up on both sides and milkweed, the grass had been cropped off close to the ground by cattle. There were great old cottonwood trees in a grove back a little from the creek. Addie brought out the basket with their picnic and Louis got the rake and shovel from the car trunk and scraped the old dry flaky manure from the shade under the trees where the cattle had stood out of the wind.

You’ve been here before, Addie said. You came prepared.

We used to come out here when Holly was a little girl. It’s about the only place to find running water and shade.

Well, it’s nice. It’s not the mountains but it’s nice for Holt County.

Yes.

But won’t somebody come to chase us off this place?

I doubt it. It belongs to Bill Martin. He never minded before.

You know him.

You do too, I think.

Just by name.

I had his kids in school. They were all bright kids. Hell-raisers, but bright. They’ve all left home now. I imagine he’s sorry about that. Kids don’t want to stay he at him, waiting.

Addie spread out a blanket on the cleared ground and they sat down and ate the fried chicken and coleslaw and carrot sticks and chips and olives and she cut them each a piece of chocolate cake. They drank iced tea with it all. Then they lay down on the blanket and looked up into the green moving branches of the tree overhead, the leaves twisting and fluttering in the low wind.

After a while Louis sat up and took his shoes and socks off and rolled up his pants cuffs, then walked over to the creek across the hot ground and stepped down into the cool water onto the sandy bottom and dipped and cupped water onto his face and arms. Addie joined him, barefooted in her summer dress. She held her dress up above her knees and stepped in.

Oh isn’t this just perfect for a hot day. I’ve never been here before. I didn’t know there was anyplace like this in Holt County.

Stick with me, he said. You’ll learn a lot, lady.

Louis took off his shirt and pants and underwear and laid them out on the grass and stepped back into the water, splashed himself and sat down.

Well then, Addie said. If that’s the way you’re going to be. She pulled her dress off over her head, took off her underwear and lowered herself into the cool water beside him. And I don’t even care if someone sees us, she said.

They sat facing each other and lay back in the water, both of them very pale except for their faces and hands and arms. They were a little heavy, contented. They could feel the current pushing fingers of sand underneath them.

Later they got out and went back to the blanket and toweled off and got dressed, they took a nap in the warm afternoon in the shade of the trees and got up again and waded in the creek once more to cool off before they packed up the food and drove back to Holt. He dropped her off at her house and she carried the picnic basket inside while he drove down the block and parked his car and put the shovel and rake back in the shed. When he stepped into the house, the phone rang almost immediately.

You’d better come over here, Addie said.

What’s going on?

Gene is here. He wants to talk to both of us.

I’ll be there in a minute.

In the living room Gene was sitting on the couch across from Addie.

He said, Sit down, Louis.

Louis p>

What’s this about?

I’ll get to that, Gene said. I’ve been waiting for you all afternoon.

I told him where we’ve been, Addie said.

It’s not much of a place.

It’s what you make of it. It’s who you’re with, Louis said.

That’s why I’m here. I want this to stop.

You’re talking about us being together, Louis said.

I’m talking about you sneaking over here at night to my mother’s house.

No one’s sneaking around, Addie said.

That’s right. You’re not even ashamed of yourselves.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

People your age meeting in the dark like you do.

It’s b