Running Barefoot
Page 71
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“-big green dictionary?” Samuel finished for me, grinning.
“My big green dictionary,” I repeated, smiling with him, “and the bible we kept in the bookcase. I read verses 4 through 9, over and over, looking up every word, even the ones I knew. I wanted to have a perfect understanding of every word... those verses are like the most incredible poetry! To me it was even better than just a beautiful collection of words though, because it was the truth! I could feel the truth of it when I read it. When I was finished, I wrote verses 4-9 on my ‘Wall of Words’ and read it every night before I went to bed. I had it memorized pretty quickly.”
“Your wall of words?” Samuel’s eyebrows shot up.
“You don’t know about my Wall of Words?!” I whispered in mock horror. “I can’t believe I never told you about my Wall of Words!” I leapt off the bench and pulled him up, my hands still clasped in his. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I went inside, Samuel trailing behind me, and climbed the little staircase to my attic room. Samuel’s shoulders looked huge in the narrow passageway. At the top of the stairs, I stopped. “Wait! I forgot Dad’s rules! No boys allowed in my room. Darn! I guess I’ll have to take a picture of my wall and show it to you later.” My lips twitched, and my eyes widened with laughter. I acted like I was going to descend the stairs again.
Samuel’s arm shot out and secured me around the waist. “I’ll stand in the doorway.”
I laughed, enjoying the flirtation, and walked into the little room that had been mine since I was old enough to traverse the stairs. Samuel followed behind me and, true to his word, leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. His eyes scanned my masterpiece.
I looked at my wall with new eyes, remembering the books where I had found each word. I pointed out the spot where I’d written 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13. “Here it is ...written before you and I ever discussed the definition of true love.” I turned and looked at him. He moved from the door, walking towards the wall to read the small print. He ran his hands over the wall, much like I had done many times before, feeling my words.
“So much knowledge…and it’s all in here now,” he said tenderly, reaching over to gently knock on my forehead. He walked to the window and looked out, pointing down the street to where the lights of his grandparent’s house shone in the darkness.
“It’s strange to think of you at thirteen, up here in this room reading while I was just a few blocks away.” He hesitated for a moment, carried away, remembering. “That year changed me. I thought about you all the time, had arguments with you in my head, and cursed you when I couldn’t read anything without a dictionary.” We both burst into laughter. After a few seconds he continued, “Sometimes I was angry with you because you made me question what I thought I knew. I started thinking maybe I didn’t know anything at all. Half the time I wanted to shake you, the other half I just wanted to be with you, and that made me even angrier. When I left Levan, I swore I wouldn’t come back until I could teach you a thing or two, or I could prove you wrong - whichever came first.”
I remembered what he said to me the night he’d made me listen to ‘Pevane for a Dead Princess.’ Sadness and regret trickled down my throat and made my stomach turnover. “Now you’re here. And here I am. Not quite what you remember.” I tried to laugh, but it got caught and sounded more like a hiccup.
He turned from the window, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets, and slowly closed the few steps between us. He gazed down at me intently. I looked down at my hands and then tucked my hair behind my ears. My hair was mostly dry now and curling around my shoulders. I stifled the need to run my fingers through it, and held myself still under his scrutiny.
“No, you’re right. You’re not the same. Neither am I. You’re not thirteen anymore, and I’m not eighteen. It’s a damn good thing.” He reached for me then, cradling my face in his hands, pulling me to him. Ever so softly, he brushed his lips across mine. Then again. And again. His breath was the barest caress across my sensitive mouth. He never increased the pressure, never stepped any closer. Deep inside my soul I felt something rumble and quake, and I ran my hands up his arms, wrapping them around his wrists where he held my face in his work roughened palms.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” He whispered, lifting his mouth from mine.
I wanted to exclaim that he would see me more tonight, but bridled my pounding emotions. He seemed to know where he was going, and I had no idea.
“Alright,” I breathed, and I stepped back from him, trying to retain my dignity. “I’ll walk you out.”
Just before he descended the stairs, Samuel turned and looked again at my wall. “I remember a few of those words. Some of those words are our words.” He looked at me with tenderness.
We walked down the stairs and through the back door. He gathered the big bucket and the bowl and the towels, putting the now empty water jug inside with everything else. The music had long since ended. We walked around to the front of the house, silent. I wished he wouldn’t go.
“Goodnight Josie,” Samuel said quietly.
I didn’t respond. I thought I might reveal my desperate disappointment that the night was ending. I tried to smile and then turned and began walking back towards the house. I heard a guttural groan behind me. I heard the pail and the silver bowl hit the ground with a jarring twang. When I turned, Samuel was striding towards me and I gasped at the vehemence in his face. I was suddenly gripped tightly in his arms, the force of his embrace lifting me off my feet. Then Samuel’s mouth was on my mine, his hands buried in my hair. His lips were demanding, his hands holding my head firmly beneath the onslaught of his kiss. My hands gripped his head in return, fisting in his hair, pulling him into me, feeling his arms around me, holding me to him, breathing him in, triumphant. The kiss was endless and infinitesimal all at once. He pulled his reluctant mouth from my lips and rested his forehead against mine, our combined breath coming in harsh pants. He pulled away just as suddenly as he had embraced me, his hands steadying me, and then letting me go, his eyes on my swollen lips.
“My big green dictionary,” I repeated, smiling with him, “and the bible we kept in the bookcase. I read verses 4 through 9, over and over, looking up every word, even the ones I knew. I wanted to have a perfect understanding of every word... those verses are like the most incredible poetry! To me it was even better than just a beautiful collection of words though, because it was the truth! I could feel the truth of it when I read it. When I was finished, I wrote verses 4-9 on my ‘Wall of Words’ and read it every night before I went to bed. I had it memorized pretty quickly.”
“Your wall of words?” Samuel’s eyebrows shot up.
“You don’t know about my Wall of Words?!” I whispered in mock horror. “I can’t believe I never told you about my Wall of Words!” I leapt off the bench and pulled him up, my hands still clasped in his. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I went inside, Samuel trailing behind me, and climbed the little staircase to my attic room. Samuel’s shoulders looked huge in the narrow passageway. At the top of the stairs, I stopped. “Wait! I forgot Dad’s rules! No boys allowed in my room. Darn! I guess I’ll have to take a picture of my wall and show it to you later.” My lips twitched, and my eyes widened with laughter. I acted like I was going to descend the stairs again.
Samuel’s arm shot out and secured me around the waist. “I’ll stand in the doorway.”
I laughed, enjoying the flirtation, and walked into the little room that had been mine since I was old enough to traverse the stairs. Samuel followed behind me and, true to his word, leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. His eyes scanned my masterpiece.
I looked at my wall with new eyes, remembering the books where I had found each word. I pointed out the spot where I’d written 1 Corinthians, Chapter 13. “Here it is ...written before you and I ever discussed the definition of true love.” I turned and looked at him. He moved from the door, walking towards the wall to read the small print. He ran his hands over the wall, much like I had done many times before, feeling my words.
“So much knowledge…and it’s all in here now,” he said tenderly, reaching over to gently knock on my forehead. He walked to the window and looked out, pointing down the street to where the lights of his grandparent’s house shone in the darkness.
“It’s strange to think of you at thirteen, up here in this room reading while I was just a few blocks away.” He hesitated for a moment, carried away, remembering. “That year changed me. I thought about you all the time, had arguments with you in my head, and cursed you when I couldn’t read anything without a dictionary.” We both burst into laughter. After a few seconds he continued, “Sometimes I was angry with you because you made me question what I thought I knew. I started thinking maybe I didn’t know anything at all. Half the time I wanted to shake you, the other half I just wanted to be with you, and that made me even angrier. When I left Levan, I swore I wouldn’t come back until I could teach you a thing or two, or I could prove you wrong - whichever came first.”
I remembered what he said to me the night he’d made me listen to ‘Pevane for a Dead Princess.’ Sadness and regret trickled down my throat and made my stomach turnover. “Now you’re here. And here I am. Not quite what you remember.” I tried to laugh, but it got caught and sounded more like a hiccup.
He turned from the window, his thumbs hooked in his front pockets, and slowly closed the few steps between us. He gazed down at me intently. I looked down at my hands and then tucked my hair behind my ears. My hair was mostly dry now and curling around my shoulders. I stifled the need to run my fingers through it, and held myself still under his scrutiny.
“No, you’re right. You’re not the same. Neither am I. You’re not thirteen anymore, and I’m not eighteen. It’s a damn good thing.” He reached for me then, cradling my face in his hands, pulling me to him. Ever so softly, he brushed his lips across mine. Then again. And again. His breath was the barest caress across my sensitive mouth. He never increased the pressure, never stepped any closer. Deep inside my soul I felt something rumble and quake, and I ran my hands up his arms, wrapping them around his wrists where he held my face in his work roughened palms.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” He whispered, lifting his mouth from mine.
I wanted to exclaim that he would see me more tonight, but bridled my pounding emotions. He seemed to know where he was going, and I had no idea.
“Alright,” I breathed, and I stepped back from him, trying to retain my dignity. “I’ll walk you out.”
Just before he descended the stairs, Samuel turned and looked again at my wall. “I remember a few of those words. Some of those words are our words.” He looked at me with tenderness.
We walked down the stairs and through the back door. He gathered the big bucket and the bowl and the towels, putting the now empty water jug inside with everything else. The music had long since ended. We walked around to the front of the house, silent. I wished he wouldn’t go.
“Goodnight Josie,” Samuel said quietly.
I didn’t respond. I thought I might reveal my desperate disappointment that the night was ending. I tried to smile and then turned and began walking back towards the house. I heard a guttural groan behind me. I heard the pail and the silver bowl hit the ground with a jarring twang. When I turned, Samuel was striding towards me and I gasped at the vehemence in his face. I was suddenly gripped tightly in his arms, the force of his embrace lifting me off my feet. Then Samuel’s mouth was on my mine, his hands buried in my hair. His lips were demanding, his hands holding my head firmly beneath the onslaught of his kiss. My hands gripped his head in return, fisting in his hair, pulling him into me, feeling his arms around me, holding me to him, breathing him in, triumphant. The kiss was endless and infinitesimal all at once. He pulled his reluctant mouth from my lips and rested his forehead against mine, our combined breath coming in harsh pants. He pulled away just as suddenly as he had embraced me, his hands steadying me, and then letting me go, his eyes on my swollen lips.
