Once There Were Sad Songs

by Velda Brotherton

“You know what it stands for, and I was never into that. It’s just a nickname. Everyone had them. They don’t mean anything.” He was silent until she thought he wouldn’t go on. Then he said softly, “Nicknames were so we didn’t have to really be there. Steven, he stayed out of it, you see, while S’n’M fought the bloody battles. Only trouble was, somewhere along the way I lost Steven, and only remembered him from the other days. As a little boy living in that quiet place down on the Red River where you can look up and see the Kiamichi Mountains. As a young man going off to college. As a stupid idiot taking part in something I will regret forever.”

  “The war in Vietnam?”

  “Well, that too. But I wouldn’t have been there if I hadn’t gone to the protest in D.C. They beat the ever-living shit out of me, dragged me off to jail, and gave me two choices. Prison or ’Nam.”

  “Oh, surely you could have done something. Things like that just don’t happen.”

  “Maybe not in your world, but in mine they do. They did.”

  His breath stirred her hair, and she thought about his world, knew she’d never imagine what it was truly like. She didn’t even understand those terms he’d used. Not really. “I never knew people did things like that. That S and M stuff. Oh, I know the technical definition, but to apply it to someone’s behavior, I guess I just can’t grasp that.”

  “Surely you’re joking. Plenty of people practice S and M. Everyone knows what it is.”

  “Not where I come from.”

  “This is unbelievable. What are you, a Quaker or a Mennonite or something?”

  “No, nothing so austere. I mean, it’s just that we... all of us practiced a rather strict religious code.”

  “You’re a teacher, you went to college. Didn’t you have some, uh, sexual encounters, maybe do something kinky, even once? I mean, it only stands to reason, a grown woman would—”

  “But I didn’t. Not ever. My friend Pam and I, we vowed in church with our hands on the Bible, we promised fervently we would not take up the evil ways of the world. Otherwise, they’d never have let us go away to school. And they had to do that, needing teachers for their school who believed as they did.”

  When she glanced up, he was staring at her with such a look of amazement and lack of comprehension that she didn’t say anything else. She didn’t much blame him. Listening to her own explanation, she could scarcely believe that she’d put up with such constrictions for so long. Lived her life, not only as a child but as an adult, under the control of bearded old men who claimed to know the will of a God so vicious and unkind no one could love him.

  “My goodness, Steven. How could I have been so blind for so long? Their God doesn't exist, and I don’t have to go back there. Ever.”

  His arm moved around her shoulders, pulling her head down to rest against his warm skin. She took a deep breath, then kissed him, first on the jaw, then their lips met. A long, gentle kiss that sealed something between them. She sensed it and hoped he did too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hard to believe they'd kissed like they had. Long and deep and crazy wild. Steven held on to the memory and kept his arm around her, not pushing for more than the sweet kiss they'd just exchanged. Thinking lustful thoughts but keeping them at bay. She was right. There was no fearsome, vengeful God such as she had been raised to believe in. But there was a God. Man made his own hell on this earth, and when he was ready, someone was there to lean on. Steven had never been ready until now, and so he’d always rejected the possibility. The idea was so new that he wasn’t sure he could rightly call this being by such a simplified name as God. But He was there and He did exist. He knew it as sure as he knew the sun would rise in the morning.

  He chuckled at the irony of it.

  “What?” she asked, running a finger over his stomach.

  “Just thinking how weird things happen sometimes. We met because you ran away from God, and because of meeting you I find Him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He told her how he’d been ready to attempt another of his suicide jumps until he reached the precipice. Until he thought of how she made him feel—hopeful, renewed, human. “I admitted then that there is a higher power at work, and I don’t want to die. I want to make things right. You did that for me.”

  “Funny, isn’t it? How things work out. I can’t find my own salvation, but somehow offer you yours. But Reudell’s fanaticism, my mother’s, the others’, is not faith. I’m not sure what it is. But everyone is unhappy and thinks that’s the way life is supposed to be on this earth because a better life awaits. I couldn’t bear that anymore. I guess that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in something, someone, who might love me no matter what, who might forgive me no matter what.”

  He wanted to tell her that person was him but knew she had much to do before she could accept that, and he too could not offer it. Not yet.

  So he tightened his hold as if that might delay their parting, something he now saw as inevitable. To prevent thinking of the time when they would go their separate ways, he talked. Making memories he could hold on to.

  “How did you ever gather the courage to escape such a life? It sounds like a cult.”

  “Oh, no. Just ask them. It’s a religious sect. And there are no fences, except those they build in our minds. We all go to one church and nobody socializes with outsiders unless they absolutely have to. I was born into it, but my father was always different, and I have to admit I didn’t know whether to admire him or pray for him. Mama had me doing both. But he stayed with Mama and my brothers and me, in spite of all our praying for his soul that must have been frustrating and annoying. He was selfless and honorable, and I’m sorry it took me so long to see that.”

  “And so you married a man who—”

  “Was the exact opposite. A man my mother chose. Older by twenty years, a deacon in the church, and a widower. Reudell is…” She shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe him, but actually I sometimes feel sorry for him. His coldness, the way he believes that anything enjoyable is a sin. Especially sex.”

  “But you must have had sex, made love at first. Didn't he want children?”

  “Well, yes, at first. Of course. But it wasn't like...” She stammered to a halt. “Like it was for us. He acted as if he hated touching me.”

  “Fuckin' A. Sorry.”

  She hurried on, trying to ignore the expletive. “But once we gave up trying to have children, then he moved into another bedroom...and never touched me again.”

  “Christ.”

  “Steven, please. That’s so offensive. Unless of course, you're praying.” She tilted her head to smile at him. Somehow she had to stop criticizing people for the way they were.

  “Sorry.” She rejected so much, yet clung to so much. Best if he changed the subject. “So how did you get away? I mean, what happened that set you free? That tore down that fence in your mind?”

  A long hesitation, her refusal to look at him when she said, “I don’t know,” told him more than she’d intended.

  He cupped her chin, turned her to face him. “Yes, I think you do. Did he beat you? Your husband?”

  “No, of course not. Well, not exactly.”

  “There’s no exactly. Did he ever hit you?”

  “He only did it for my own good. As punishment when I refused to cleave to him as head of the family.”

  “Good God.”

  “It was only as if I were a child who had misbehaved and needed discipline. Early on I learned not to, and he stopped. It wasn’t like…”

  “Wasn’t like what?”

  “You know, abuse or anything, like you read about in the papers.”

  “Oh, you were allowed to read the papers?” That sounded smart-alecky, but he couldn’t help it. “Surely you see that it was abuse. That it was wrong?”

  “It’s not like that at all. You don’t understand.”

  “You’re damned right I don’t. And I don’t understand why you’re defending them, either.” But did he
really have the right to put down a way of life, when he couldn’t manage even the most remote effort to make something of his own? One thing he’d never done was hit Jennie. But he had made her miserable with his violence, and that had hurt her. Hurt him too.

  Thinking about that, he held Liz’s shoulder firmly in the curve of his arm. Then took a deep breath, said softly, “A man hits a woman, it’s abuse.”

  She remained silent for a long while, then drew in a ragged breath. “I know. How could I have been so stupid for so long? I’m supposed to be smart. I’m a teacher. By condoning such treatment I’m saying to the children that it’s okay to live that way. I wanted to say it was wrong. I was a coward for not doing so, and I was more a coward for choosing to run away. At the time it seemed the only way I could protest. Now it seems spineless.”

  “Leaving a man who abuses you is not cowardly.”

  “But I should’ve stayed and stood up to him. To all of them. Helped free the children. I left because I hated my life, but I never realized until this moment it went so much deeper than that. It was selfish of me.”

  “Some things we can’t do all by ourselves. What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “What do you want?”

  She turned her cheek into his chest. “I want to run barefoot through the sand, I want to lie naked in the sun till I turn red, I want to go fishing and buy books and see a good movie and lie in bed late on Sunday next to you, wrapped in your arms. Worship the way men and women were intended to.”

  The enthusiasm that led her to the admission gave way to an embarrassment that flushed her cheeks. Or perhaps that was only heat from the fire.

  Steven embraced the words and didn’t say anything. His heart hammered in his chest. This thing between them would never go away. No matter where he went or what happened. He knew now that she felt the same. He thought of the poem he’d learned somewhere a long time ago. Paraphrased it in his mind. He had no promises to keep, only broken promises to mend, and miles to go...many, many miles, and a heart so filled with penitence it could not truly embrace love. His journey wasn’t done, and he had to finish it alone, though he would have given almost anything in the world to take her up on that wish to lie in his arms.

  “But of course I can’t,” she said. “We can’t.”

  “No.” Oddly, relief only made him sad. He swallowed the word and his throat clicked. There was nothing more he could say. This wonderful gift of love had been offered to two battered souls, and they both must reject it. How sad, yet maybe the very fact it had been offered was enough in itself. It left him feeling worthy, hopeful, looking forward to the future. He loved, he was loved. Something he had never thought could happen to him again.

  The fire licked at the darkness, flared, and went out, leaving only glowing coals. From down by the creek came the song of frogs. Courting. Lightning bugs darted through the darkness, sending their codes to attract a mate. And the evening breeze lay down to rest.

  “Steven,” she said, startling him.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think it was a sin, what we did?”

  “No. Lord, no. God would not create such a terrific experience and then call it a sin.”

  “My God would.”

  “Well, then, you’ve got the wrong God. ’Cause I’m telling you love is not a sin.”

  “You actually do believe in God, then. That wasn’t just a story to make me feel better.”

  “No, it wasn’t a story. Crazy as it seems, yeah, I do. But for a lot of years I didn’t. Funny, huh? It came to me, out there today, riding my bike and looking for another way to try to break my fool neck. No matter how much I denied it, He was still there. He’s not like you think, Liz. Really.”

  “I wish I could believe that. But if you truly found God, how can you still be so blasphemous?”

  Despite the situation, he laughed aloud. “What’s one got to do with the other? Emotions make me blasphemous. That and, of course, I’m crazy. God doesn’t mind so much. Parents love their kids, no matter what they do, and besides He’s got a big bunch of us to see to. When you really think about it, I don’t reckon I’m so bad in the scheme of things. I want to make it all up somehow, and that should count for something.”

  He brushed her hair away from one cheek so he could see her expression. “Shouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it counts for a lot.”

  “God, you’re beautiful.” He took both her hands in his, bent forward to kiss them.

  Something stirred deep in his gut, like a sleeping snake uncoiling in the first rays of summer sun. He had to say what he felt. She had to know, before they moved on and away from each other.

  “I love you. And I’m sorry, so damned sorry. Please forgive me for everything I’ve done, for what I’m going to do to us.”

  It was the beginning of his search for forgiveness, and he held his breath waiting for her reply.

  For a moment she could not speak past the joy that sang in her soul. He loved her. After all these barren years, she was loved. To tell him goodbye now could break her heart.

  At last she found her voice. “You’ve done nothing I need to forgive. You’ve put me back together. You and this time we’ve had.” She rested her cheek against his chest. “You know that place you talked about? On the Red River, where you can see the Kiamichi Mountains?”

  He nodded, gazed at her with some bewilderment.

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “You know, I think it was. Despite all the bad memories, the sorrow, it’s still home. Rossville, Oklahoma.” He grinned. “That crazy, almost-dead town where nothing much ever happens, because no one wants it to, is probably one of the more peaceful places left on this planet.”

  “A good place to be, maybe, when the heart and soul are at peace. Maybe someday we...you and I...” She gave up, fearful that could never be. They both had much too long a journey yet ahead of them to hope for redemption together.

  But he took up the thread. “That would be a fine thing, being there with you. You’d love the fishing, early in the morning when the river’s still and the sun is peeking over the horizon. A terrific place to fish. Big ole catfish in the shallows under the cottonwoods just waiting for a mouthful of worms. Yeah, a great place, if you’re not alone.”

  In her heart she wanted Steven to never have to be alone but sensed for a while he needed to be, to sort things out. Come to grips with his demons. “Someday, you won’t be alone. You’re too good a person.”

  He held her very tightly, as if to do so would stop their parting, then asked, “Where will you go?”

  “Back home,” she said, and stared at him in surprise. “I didn’t know that I needed to go back, until now, so I’m as surprised as you are.”

  “Disappointed, too. I don’t want you to do that. Put yourself back in that terrible life.”

  Trailing a finger down his jaw, she realized how much at peace he was. So much different from the man who’d dragged her out of the lake. Clear blue eyes no longer haunted, jaw not clenched, mouth relaxed and lips soft. A magical sort of transformation that she hoped one day would happen to her as well.

  “Like you, Steven, I know where I have to start to make things right in here.” She touched her chest. “You understand that, surely. There are things I have to say to Reudell or I’ll never be free. He may not understand, probably won’t, but I will.”

  “Liz?” he said after a long moment of silence.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Let’s make love.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now. Right here. In the dark, with the stars looking on, and with no regrets or guilt.”

  “What if someone comes?”

  “What if they do?”

  She gazed into his eyes for a long while, then took his hand and placed it on her breast where he could feel the beat of her heart.

  At that moment, she loved him more than she had ever loved anyone in her entire life, and was afraid to u
tter the words. For wasn’t it just like Reudell’s God to give her something she desired so fervently just when she couldn’t accept it? Maybe Steven’s God would intervene—for all their sakes—but somehow she doubted it.

  It was her last coherent thought as he brought his mouth down to cover hers.

  When again she opened her eyes, it was to bright sunlight and blue sky winking through the overhead lacy green canopy. Steven lay with one cheek on her bare belly, his warm breath like butterfly wings over her skin. She remembered where she was and what had happened. Felt vague vibrations within her as if, somewhere, angels sang. Without looking away from the somnolent treetops, she trailed her fingers into a tangle of his shorn tresses. Under her head, leaves crackled.

  Rapture clothed her and she felt no humiliation at lying in the open next to a naked man with whom she had shared the ultimate pleasure. Worshiping together. Eve before the serpent. When God still loved her. She sighed at the trite comparison, but knew it was as true as anything could be. In her heart, sin and pleasure were no longer one, never would be again.

  Almost afraid to speak, for fear of breaking the spell, she said, “Tempting to lie here forever, live out here, make love and braid daisy chains and make love some more. Frolic through the forest like Pan.” She stretched her arms skyward. “Oh, I feel so cleansed of shame. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Laughing lightly, he tasted her flesh with the warm, wet tip of his tongue. “Absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. But all that lovemaking in paradise might wear this old man to a frazzle.”

  Fingers tangled in his hair, she tugged gently. “Old man indeed. I don’t want you to ever mention age in my hearing again, do you understand? It’s humiliating to be older than the man I love.”

  There. She’d said it aloud. Would Reudell’s God strike her down?

  “That’s the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispered, kissed her belly button.

  “What is?” Clearly, she had misunderstood him. Did he mean the sex?

  “Hearing those words. ‘The man I love.’ Loving you is one thing, and something that fills me and makes me whole. But I never thought for a moment that you, I mean, it’s truly a wonderment. Say it again.”