Face the Winter Naked

by Bonnie Turner

  What the hell?

  While tramping through Missouri, he'd seen phantom houses and churches, apparitions of woolen mills and sheep grazing on foggy hillsides. But this ...

  He hadn't noticed when he first came in the yard, or while hanging diapers. His thoughts had been focused on just one thing: his wife. But unless his eyes deceived him, the little house had disappeared. In its place lay the wreckage of boards, window frames, roofing tarpaper, and broken furniture. He walked closer and surveyed the debris, thinking it resembled a war zone, or at least the results of a cyclone. His throat constricted. Did my dad die? A sudden panic seized him at the possibility of never seeing his father alive again: one more reason to blame himself.

  Not understanding what had happened, nor seeing any sign of Saul, he turned away and walked back toward his own house. He would ask about it later. His main concern now was how to make up with LaDaisy. He went around front and dropped his pack on the ground, then sat on the porch step, thinking how quiet the place was.

  Where were the kids? They should've been romping in the yard. Taking turns pushing each other in the wheelbarrow. Swinging from the big tree limb. The tire swing hung straight down, like an arrow pointing to the bare patch where small feet had worn off the grass till the roots despaired of fighting for life and died.

  His Model T truck sat exactly where he'd left it the year before. Of course, LaDaisy had never learned to drive, and she probably couldn't have bought gas anyway.

  Someone sat in the driver's seat: Chris? The youngster had left his hiding spot by the side of the road and was giving himself driving lessons in the rusty old heap.

  How do I explain him to LaDaisy?

  He caught Chris's eye and shook his head "no." It wasn't time to introduce the two.

  Daniel waited for his wife with his head in his hands, so weary, but relieved to be home at last. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He rose and turned around just as she opened the door and stepped onto the porch with the shotgun leveled at his face. Her eyes—painfully red, wet, and swollen—looked straight at him. She cocked the gun with a loud click. Her hands shook as she placed her finger on the trigger. Drops of moisture broke on his skin. He didn't know if the gun was loaded.

  "Wh—what are you doing?"

  "Git, dammit!"

  He threw up his hands to ward her off. "LaDaisy ..."

  "I don't want you here anymore. You can't come flouncing in here like you own me." Her voice faltered. "Now go away before I blow your head off."

  Daniel backed away, his eyes on the gun. She lowered it slightly, then aimed it again.

  "Go ahead and shoot me," he said. "I deserve it. Without you, my life ain't worth living anyhow." He couldn't take his eyes off the shotgun, surprised she could even touch it again after what happened to Clay. She was scared. He could see the fear in her eyes. "But you can't pull that trigger any more than I can."

  "Damn you, Daniel Tomelin. You—you have the gall to leave me for no good reason."

  "Well I—I thought I had a reason."

  "I trusted you all these years, and you put me through hell!" Her voice rose. "And now— now you come home asking 'what's for dinner?' like nothing happened. Damn, Daniel! What's for dinner? Maybe a mouthful of buckshot!"

  "Wait, LaDaisy, listen honey, I can explain." He thought he might risk taking the gun away from her, but the look in her eyes told him he'd better not try.

  "I'm done listening," she said. "Now, are you going to leave?"

  Daniel's mouth was dry, his forehead beaded with sweat. Was she trying to scare him? Oh, he was scared, all right! It was hard to tell what a furious woman might do with a gun.

  "I put myself through hell, too," he said. "I'm just a wore out old nag. Go ahead and put me out of my misery. I ain't never stopped loving you, girl. All I ever wanted was to come home." He paused, his bloodshot eyes pleading with her. "Is it hopeless? Don't all our years together mean anything?"

  "They didn't mean anything to you when you left."

  "They did, but—" He knew what he wanted to say, but couldn't get it out.

  Her mouth quivered. With a choking sound in her throat, she lowered the gun, stared at him for a long time, then turned and went back inside.

  He sat on the step again, knees shaking and heart pounding, trying to collect himself. It'd been years since he'd looked down the barrel of a real gun.

  He glanced toward Chris again. The boy was climbing out of the truck, but he stopped when Daniel shook his head and mouthed, "Not yet." He must've seen the gun and been terrified.

  The screen door closed softly. Daniel glanced around as LaDaisy came out and sat next to him on the step. She kept her own counsel with her mouth firmly shut, though she seemed on the edge of a dammed-up flood.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "No. I'm not all right. I'll never be all right again."

  "I'm trying to make it right again," he said. "I came back, LaDaisy. You've got a right to be mad. I'd be mad too if I was in your shoes."

  She didn't reply.

  "I deserve everything you think of me, all the bad names you'd call me." He waited. "Do you hate me? Because if you do, I'll turn right around and leave again."

  Her sobs broke then. "No, no."

  "Just give me another chance, honey." He wanted more than anything to wrap his arms around the woman he loved.

  Their eyes locked, and after a minute she wiped hers. She struggled to find words, and finally they came, one on top the other. More than a year's worth of sadness, pain, and confusion came pouring out.

  "We have to talk. I don't know why you left or where you went." She stopped to wipe her wet cheek. "What's your story, Daniel? You have to tell me. I thought you died, but Saul said no. He saw you, but I couldn't."

  Daniel pulled his gaze away from her face. He could not bear to see her misery, and instead looked at the sky, the ground, his hands.

  "My last string busted, girl."

  She studied his face. "What do you mean?"

  "It means I stopped running. It means I don't have any more excuses." He reached for her hand, and this time she didn't resist. "Just to be clear on one thing, I never stopped loving you or the kids. Leaving my family was the hardest thing I ever did."

  "Then why?"

  "Because I had to—I had to because I stopped loving myself." He glanced out toward the truck. "It took me a long time to realize that. A lot of things happened while I was gone. There were things I had to do."

  "I don't understand."

  "I hope you will after I explain." Daniel looked around. "Where are the kids? My dad? Did he die, LaDaisy? What did you do with him?" He half grinned. "Well, I didn't mean that like it sounded."

  "They're at Bernie's." She glanced toward the road. "I expect them home soon."

  "I've missed them. Every single day I was gone, I missed them sorely, and you."

  "Damn you, Daniel! I should hate you for leaving me here alone." She was close to tears again, her mouth quivering, biting her lower lip. "I need time to sort things out. I don't know how I feel. How I'm supposed to feel. But hate you? No, I can't."

  He nodded, unable to face her. "I know there ain't a hateful bone in your body, and I'll try to explain. But it won't be easy."

  "And explain about your Army friends. Frankie. Woody."

  "Huh? How do you know about them?" He pulled off his glasses, breathed steam on them and wiped them with his shirttail before putting them back on.

  "And the medals, the war wounds. When you didn't come back, I opened your closet and snooped. Now I know why you flinched when I touched your shoulder a certain way. You don't have to hide all that from me anymore."

  "Some things will be hard to talk about," he said. "I have to make you understand what happened." Then he smiled. "It's enough to be home. If I learned anything by leaving, it's that life has no purpose without love, and love has no home without family." She started to interrupt, but he stopped her. "I thought I could earn enough money so
I wouldn't be ashamed to come home." Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, eyes grown older and wiser over the last year. "But the love of my family is all the gold I need." She waited for him to continue.

  "A lot's happened to both of us." He glanced at the truck again and saw Chris watching. "First I have to tell you I know what happened here. With Clay, and Ida."

  "You—you know? How?"

  "I read it in a newspaper, in Kan' City. Decided it was way past time for this old bum to stop feeling sorry for himself and come back home. I stopped uptown to see the sheriff before coming out here."

  She choked up and began to whimper. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her close, feeling the warmth of the soft body he'd missed those many months.

  "Don't talk now. There's plenty of time." He breathed deeply, taking in her earthy scent. "Clay's not going to hurt you anymore, LaDaisy." He stroked her hair and pulled her head down on his shoulder while she cried herself dry. They sat, the two of them, clinging to each other for dear life.

  LaDaisy looked over his shoulder toward the truck and raised her head.

  "Oh! There's someone out there—a boy." She pulled away and looked at Daniel. "Wonder where he came from."

  He released her and they both rose. "That's Chris," Daniel said. "He's homeless. No, that's not exactly right. He has a home, but for a lot of reasons, he can't live there."

  "An orphan, then?"

  "No, he has a family, but they're in dire straits. Too many mouths to feed, so he took to the streets." Then he grinned. "I think you'll like him. He kind of grows on a person. In fact, if he hadn't been with me these last few weeks, I don't know what might've happened to me."

  "You serious?"

  "Dead serious. He gave me something to live for till I could come home."

  "I don't understand."

  He didn't want to tell her yet. He needed time to sort out his thoughts. But she was waiting, and he'd already hurt this woman enough. There was no earthly purpose in not explaining about the nightmares. He hesitated a moment, then plunged in, looking deeply into her eyes.

  "Do you remember all them bad dreams I used to have?"

  "Nightmares?"

  "I tried to hide them from you. But I always thought maybe you'd figured out what was happening to me. Remember when I used to get up and walk around outdoors at night?" He waited while she thought it over. "You remember?"

  Then she nodded. "Yes. I couldn't understand why you did that. You wouldn't answer when I asked."

  "I was ashamed if you saw me cry."

  "You cried? Why?"

  "Because grown men don't cry, honey. Most of them don't."

  She reached out and touched his hand. "What are tears for if we can't use them? Doesn't matter if we're men or women, Daniel. God made tears." She paused. "What was happening to you then? Can you tell me now?"

  "I'll tell you more later," Daniel said. "But for now, just understand I reached a low point. It wasn't nothing you did. It was the war."

  "The war? So long ago? How?"

  "The nightmares," he went on. "They wouldn't stop. The faces of my dead friends wouldn't go away."

  "Oh ... God," she whispered.

  He gazed off into the distance and thought he saw his buddies all lined up in a row, with an officer pinning medals to each man's shirt.

  "What th—?"

  LaDaisy touched him. "Daniel? You okay?"

  He snapped back to reality as the vision dissolved, his heart pounding so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest. He turned to her with tears in his eyes.

  "I'm okay. Just thought I saw something for a second."

  "I'm sorry about the bad dreams," she said. "Are you over them now?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. Can you stand me getting up in the night again, or screaming? I never know when they might come back. Sometimes lately they ain't been so bad. Since I met Chris." He glanced out across the yard to where the boy waited. "I can't talk about this anymore right now, LaDaisy. I've got too many things coming at me at once, and I ain't as young as I used to be. The last year turned me into an old man." He sighed. "But we'll talk. Since I started it now, it has to come out."

  He motioned for Chris. The boy hesitated, then started walking up the driveway. He stopped a few feet away and stared at the woman on the porch.

  "Who is he?" she asked. "Where'd you find him?"

  "Springfield. He was living on the streets. I couldn't allow that, so I brought him with me."

  "There's a lot I don't understand. Tell him to come over here. Is he afraid of me?"

  "He might be." He swung his arm in a wide arc, motioning for Chris again. "It's okay, Chris, come on." He turned back to his wife. "Go gentle with him. He's not used to kindness."

  "Should I take that as a compliment?"

  "You've been kind to me many times when I didn't deserve it. To my dad and my sisters. I know who you are and what you are."

  "Well, I ..."

  "That's more than your own family's done."

  Chris took his time coming to the porch, and she went down the steps to meet him.

  "I'm LaDaisy," she said. "Daniel tells me your name's Chris."

  "Yeah." Chris's face flushed, and all the bluster drained out of him. He stroked the banjo's long neck, back and forth, back and forth. Though he tried to hide them, his emotions were showing as she walked with him to the porch.

  "Don't be shy," Daniel said. "If it's all right with my wife, this is going to be your home for a while. Unless you want to go back to Springfield with your folks." He already knew the answer.

  "No. I'm not going back there, Shine—I mean Daniel."

  "Shine?" LaDaisy turned to Daniel. "Who's that?"

  "He's nobody. It's just my Army nickname."

  "You never told me that."

  "Didn't think I had a reason."

  She held his eyes a moment, then shook her head.

  "Well, leave the boy alone. Give him room to think." She smiled at Chris. "Can you play that banjo?"

  "Some. It ain't mine, it belongs to the banjo man, but I didn't steal it."

  LaDaisy glanced at Daniel. He grinned, and she spoke to Chris again.

  "Bet you're hungry. Why don't you come in the house and I'll see what there is to eat." She pointed toward the back of the house. "There's an outhouse back there if you need it. When you're done, just come in the back door and wash up."

  Chris handed the banjo to Daniel and disappeared around the house.

  "Cute kid," LaDaisy said. "Lots of youngins leaving home too early these days."

  "Not much else they can do when their families are busted up. Chris thinks he's tough, but I know better. I've seen the scared little kid inside of him. He's been hurt bad, LaDaisy, and gone hungry." He added thoughtfully, "I'm going to see if I can get custody of him. If it's all right with you, I mean. He'll try to bullshit you. He's a good boy, a little wild, but I've been trying to tame him." He turned to her and grinned. "The little turd picked my pocket first time I met him."

  LaDaisy's eyes widened. "Really. What did you do?"

  "What would you expect me to do? I gave his behind a good shellacking. He won't steal anymore."

  Standing and talking about spanking and banjos was almost like old times. Daniel knew it would take a while before LaDaisy warmed up to him. It'd be like courting her all over again. But for the first time since walking in the yard, he felt hope.

  "Who's the banjo man?"

  "Name's George. He's an old hobo I met on my travels. He gave me this here banjo when we parted company. Probably dead now." He paused a minute. "I been bumming around, LaDaisy girl. I've seen too many pitiful sights. People starving, with their own stomachs eating themselves up." He shook his head. "I ain't the same man who left his family." He hung his head. "That man was a coward who didn't appreciate what he had. Money? I thought I left home to earn money for my family. But it was just an excuse. A brave man sticks around and works things out."

 
Before she could reply, a child's cry came from inside the house.

  Daniel turned to the door. "You said the kids were gone."

  "That's Mary."

  "Mary?" He remembered the clothesline full of baby things. "Whose, yours?"

  "Of course she's mine! My sister went home. What did you think? Now excuse me."

  "Wait!" He grabbed her arm and turned her around. "What I think is—"

  "If you'll turn my damned arm loose, Daniel Tomelin, I'll go get her and you can see for yourself whose baby she is!"

  But he held firmly and looked her right in the eye, all the while his suspicions cutting his heart in little pieces.

  "Is she ... Clay Huff's?"

  "You son-of-a-bitch!"

  Before he could stop her, she hauled off and hit him in the jaw.

  "Hey now, you little wildcat!" He released her and rubbed his face. "You got no call hitting me like that. You can't blame me for wondering."

  "You ask for it!"

  "What's come over you?"

  She got in his face and hissed. "What's come over me? I should've finished you off when I had the chance!" From inside the house, Mary screamed. "Do you take me for a—a slut?"

  "No," he said. "That ain't it. I know you're a good woman. I just thought for a minute, oh never mind. Go tend your baby."

  "Your baby!"

  With that, she gave him a murderous look and stormed into the house.

  The screen door now needed new hinges.

  Daniel went to his truck, walked around it, stooped down and looked under it—anything to keep him from going inside to see that baby. He simply could not believe it wasn't Clay's child. He checked the tires and the headlamps. The lights would be out, the battery long dead. But the tires should get him downtown to see about getting his job back. A little tinkering here and there, and the Ford would be drivable again.

  He counted on his fingers, from the time he'd left home to the present. Nine months for a baby. He recalled the last time he'd had relations with his wife—and how his bumbling had messed everything up. How guilty he'd felt when he left her unsatisfied. He counted his fingers some more. Yes, from that date, it was entirely possible—and one of the reasons he'd left in the first place was to prevent another pregnancy.