Part 33 (1/2)

THE SKY HAD long since darkened and the clouds overhead were transformed into battles.h.i.+ps of gray and black. They sat in readiness, an armada of awesome proportions with an unpredictable captain at the helm. C.W. stood alone in the fields. Hands on hips, he screwed up his nose and sniffed, slowly turning his head from side to side. Moisture was in the air; he felt it on his face and in his bones. A cool, heavy presence, laden with a whiff of snow.

In the distance, the bleating of ewes echoed against the mountains and floated back to him. Its sweet familiarity sang across the pastoral scene like the hypnotic song of the sirens. How good it felt to be back home.

Behind him, the sound of heavy footfalls broke his concentration. Turning, he saw a shadowed form approach with a wide, swinging gait. It could only be Seth.

”Glad you're back, son,” he called.

C.W. met up with him and shook his hand with strength and warmth. ”Strange night,” he said, returning his gaze to the sky.

”You feel it too, huh? I've lived through many an odd season, but I ain't seen the likes of this before.” Seth scratched the hair under his cap. ”Heard tell of a freak snowstorm in Grandpa Wade's time. October, same as this. Never heard of another.” Worry creased his brow as he looked again at the sky.

C.W. continued the sky watch. The hills were cloaked in suspenseful silence. Far off in the northern pasture he heard a low, worried bleat. ”Is that Brutus?”

Seth chuckled and nodded his head. ”You old cow!” he called out to the teaser ram with affection. Seth took one last sweep of the threatening sky, listening to the rumble with a frown.

”Best go get the kids, son,” he said, scratching his bristle. ”Gotta sh.o.r.e up the hatches. They're at the Harvest Contra Dance in Clarendon Springs. They won't like it none, but h.e.l.l, what's one dance more or less in the face of a storm?”

”You be sure and wait,” replied C.W. ”The boys and I will round up the ewes to the lower pasture.”

”So who's givin' the orders around here?”

C.W. smiled down at the scowling, toothless face. ”I'm not giving orders. But with your heart, you have no business up in the north pasture. Now please, go on back and sit tight. I'll go get the kids and come right back. We'll get it done.”

Seth grunted and wiped his lips with his palm. He was about to leave when he turned back and asked, ”You find your field, son?”

C.W. nodded. ”Yes, sir. I believe I did.”

”Good,” Seth replied. After a moment, he hitched his pants up a notch and, head down, added, ”You oughta talk to that girl of yours, son. She needs to know you more to love you more. She's a good'un. And seems only fair.”

”I will, sir. Thank you.” There was much more C.W. would have liked to say, sentimental words of grat.i.tude and affection. Like a son would say to a father. But of course he didn't. Men didn't speak such things. He could only nod his head and tighten his lips, letting his eyes translate the message of his heart.

Seth did likewise.

s.h.i.+fting his weight, Seth pointed toward his house and began the trek home. C.W.'s last sight of him was his rocking gait steadily plowing through the waving fields like a barge headed toward the light.

Over the stairwell leading to the church bas.e.m.e.nt, a long banner announced in orange and brown: Harvest Dance Benefit/Wallingford Rescue Squad. C.W. followed the music down the rear stairs to where the moist heat of forty twirling, laughing couples enveloped him. On one side of the room, long tables were laden with coffee, soda, homemade brownies, cakes, and cookies. On the other side of the room sat two fiddlers, a piano player, an accordion player, and a ba.s.s player.

The rest of the room was filled with long lines of couples. Facing west, the women glowed in the moist heat, their eyes sparkling in antic.i.p.ation. C.W. spotted Nora easily. Dressed in a long flared skirt of green cotton and a white ruffled blouse, she was shyly, even flirtatiously, swis.h.i.+ng back and forth in time to the music.

C.W. automatically looked four steps to the east to check out the man who dared partner his Nora. He was as broad and tall as Paul Bunyan, and ruggedly handsome with his starched white collar unb.u.t.toned and his sleeves rolled up over muscled forearms. The man's eyes were firmly on Nora as he pounded his boot and clapped his hands, obviously eager to have east meet west.

For the first time in his life, C.W. understood jealousy. It cut through reason like a knife, leaving him irrationally angry and decidedly possessive.

The intro sounded and the caller sang out his prompt, ”All forward, bow and back!”

Hands touched, feet shuffled, and the dancers moved through the phrases. C.W.'s foot began to tap, but not because of the heady rhythm.

A couple came dancing down the long line toward him. When they reached the end of the line, they separated and marched back up the outside. Next Junior and some red-haired, freckled beauty promenaded. When they reached the end of the line, C.W. tapped Junior's shoulder and called him out. Not far behind, Frank and Katie Beth danced down the line, flushed with happiness and clearly the Young Couple in Love. Frank rolled his eyes as he was waved over.

C.W.'s smile froze, however, when Nora and her Paul Bunyan sashayed down the line. The man's eyes were as tightly fixed on Nora's face as his hands were around her waist. Did she have to smile up at that clown so fetchingly? C.W. thought bitterly. Jealousy flared anew, then consumed him as he watched the eyes of each man she pa.s.sed follow her down the line.

C.W. scowled as he pa.s.sed through the crowd with an undaunted gait, meeting up with Nora as she reached the end of the line of dancers. He grabbed her arm with a possessive yank and firmly planted his own hands upon her waist.

”Come on,” he said harshly. ”Let's go.”

Nora's face darkened. She backed up, resisting his direction.

”Who do you think you are, treating me like this? I'm not going anywhere. You go! You're good at that.”

He swung around to face her. ”I'm back now. And you can tell Paul Bunyan over there to keep his hands off.”

”Tell who what?” she sputtered, straining to keep her voice low. ”Listen, I'm having a very nice time, or at least I was. And as for keeping hands off...” Nora's eyes sparkled in defiance as she pointedly looked at his hands on her waist.

C.W. did not move them, but from the corner of his eye he spotted Nora's enormous partner shouldering his way toward them, sporting an enormous scowl. Instinctively, C.W.'s grip tightened around Nora's waist.

”This guy botherin' you?” the man said, eyes on C.W.

”Beat it, Paul,” C.W. ground out, not taking his eyes off Nora.

Nora opened her mouth to speak, but the man had already stepped forward and pushed C.W.'s shoulder back.

C.W. slowly turned his head toward the man with a deadliness Nora had never seen in him before. His shoulders were drawn, like a big cat's, about to pounce. Her partner noticed it too, and though taller than C.W. by a few inches, he backed off one step, then stood his ground.

She jumped between them, swinging her head from one to the other. ”Stop it. I forbid it.”

The tension began attracting curious looks. ”We're creating a scene,” Nora muttered. Putting her hand on his shoulder, she turned toward her partner and said, ”Thank you, Andy. I'm fine. I have to go.” The fight in his eyes smoldered and, with a shrug of disappointment, he turned away.

Nora's gaze swept the crowd. She had handled the stares of curious gossips for years, and many far more shrewish than any in this crowd. Gradually, the music resumed and the couples returned to their food.

”Look,” C.W. said, checking his anger. ”There's a storm coming. Seth wants us all back, p.r.o.nto. Where's Esther?”

”She's over there, fightin' with John Henry,” said Junior as if this happened every day.

”Go get her, Nora, and meet us at the farm. Come on, guys.” He turned abruptly and marched out of the room, Frank and Junior following in single file behind him.

Nora had enough of his imperious tone but sensed the impending emergency. She'd settle this with C.W. later. Now it was time to be cool and follow orders. She turned and rushed through the crowd to gather Esther. She found her, alone, leaning against the rear wall with one knee bent, her foot against the wall, and her arms across her chest. Esther's cheeks were as red as her hair and her eyes flashed with angry tears.

Nora delivered the message quickly. Esther responded with equal alacrity, pus.h.i.+ng off from the wall and jogging to the door. Nora had to run to keep up, hearing dancers mutter something about ”pushy out-of-towners” in her wake. She kept plowing through the crowd, up the stairs and out the door.

The snow hit her face like a thousand minuscule s...o...b..a.l.l.s. The silent, heavy flakes blurred her vision, disorienting her. Around her, a white blanket, already over an inch thick and sticking, covered the ground, the bushes, and the cars, altering them to various-sized humps of white.

Where did it come from, she wondered in a panic? Where was everyone? She called out but her voice got lost in the deafening stillness of the heavy flake-filled air. Suddenly she felt an arm around her, pus.h.i.+ng her back.

”Get inside! Hurry!”

She recognized C.W.'s voice and immediately turned and hurried down the stairs.

Within minutes, C.W. stopped the music and alerted the crowd of the storm. With practiced alacrity, farmers, their wives, and their children hastily grabbed their coats and hustled like seasoned veterans toward their cars, pickups, and home. The refreshments were hurriedly scooped up amid worried comments: ”Freak storm!”