Benediction

by Kent Haruf

  They went back to the pickup, the headlights came on and they drove off toward the highway. Lyle watched them until they’d disappeared around the corner, then he looked at the houses along the street. No lights had come on. He looked up at the sky, all the flickering stars, and started back toward the parsonage, crossing Main Street and going on into the sleeping residential neighborhood, and at the parsonage he stood at the bathroom sink to rinse his face with water. His wife appeared in the doorway.

  What happened?

  He turned toward her. His face was bruised and swollen.

  Oh no, she said. Now what?

  A couple of men stopped me. One of them slapped me.

  Why? What did you do?

  It’s because of what I said in church.

  How did they know that? Were they from the church?

  No. But they didn’t need to be. Everybody would have heard.

  You don’t have any idea who they were?

  I’ve never seen them before.

  What will you do?

  I’m going to clean up my face, he said, then I’m coming to bed.

  You won’t even inform the police?

  No.

  But why not?

  Because this isn’t about the law. Or police protection.

  She looked at his swollen face and the blood on his shirt. I don’t think I’m going to last here much longer, she said. I’m going back to Denver. This is too much.

  We can talk about it in the morning.

  No. I’m done now. I can see that.

  She turned and went back to bed. He looked at himself in the mirror and bent over the sink and began laving cold water onto his cheeks again.

  When he got into bed, she was still awake.

  Are you all right? she said. Are you badly hurt?

  No, not badly.

  I never thought our lives would turn out this way, did you?

  No, but you can go back to him and be comforted again. Is that your plan?

  I don’t have a plan. Except to leave here. And find a job.

  What about him?

  Who? John Wesley?

  Him too. But I meant your friend.

  I haven’t seen him in over two years.

  You haven’t talked to him?

  When would I talk to him?

  Anytime. Whenever I’m out of the house.

  No. I told you I was finished. There’s nothing more to us.

  But you’ll pick up if you go back.

  I don’t have any interest in that. I’m too tired. I feel like somebody slapped me too.

  29

  A LITTLE WHILE before noon on a day earlier in that same week, Lorraine went next door to Berta May’s and then she and Alice came out and drove east on U.S. Highway 34, then south on the gravel to the Johnson house.

  When they turned in at the country house and got out of the car, the Johnson women stepped outside and stood together on the back porch waiting for them. The two women had on thin cotton sleeveless dresses and looked cool despite the noontime heat. Come in, Willa called. Come in.

  Here we are, Lorraine said.

  How’s this sweet girl? Willa said when Alice came up on the porch.

  Pretty good, Alice said.

  Hello, sweetheart, Alene said.

  They hugged her and hugged Lorraine. I brought this too, Lorraine said. She brandished a bottle of wine.

  They ate lunch in the yard on the north side of the house under an elm tree. They carried the food out and set it on the old wood picnic table. Somebody needs to paint that, Willa said. Look at it. The table was paint-flaked and dry.

  We’ll just cover it up, Lorraine said.

  They brought the food out in dishes covered with white dish towels, chicken salad with fruit and country potato salad and dinner rolls. Alice carried out the plates, the old thin delicate ones, hand-painted with blue grapes.

  They’re too good for a picnic, Lorraine said.

  No. I’m going to use them. What else are they for? My mother gave them to me for my wedding a long time ago. I’m missing two of them.

  They brought out glasses and silverware and salt and pepper shakers and a dish of pickle relish and pink cloth napkins and iced tea in a glass pitcher. All was arranged on the table. Alene and Willa sat on one side, taking their time getting seated, Willa particularly, swinging her old bare legs over the wooden seat. Lorraine and Alice sat on the opposite side.

  Over them lay the shade of the tree, dappling and swaying when there was a breeze at this noon hour.

  Alice watched them, no one spoke nor began to eat yet. Then Willa said, I know we can’t all think alike, but I want to say something that resembles grace.

  They looked at her. She shut her eyes behind the thick glasses, and they closed their eyes.

  We’re grateful for this summer’s day. We’re grateful for this beautiful food. We want to be thankful that we are here in this particular place on this particular day together. We want to acknowledge these our many blessings. And we’re so thankful for this young girl here with us. May she be filled with joy all her life. And may there be peace in the world.

  Then she ceased. They opened their eyes and looked at her. Amen, she said. Let’s eat.

  They passed the dishes around. Alene had made the chicken salad with mandarin oranges and olives and slivered almonds, and Lorraine said how good it was and Alene said how good her potato salad was too and she said it was just potato salad but Alene said it wasn’t.

  Alice watched them talk, watching each speaker. The chicken salad was served on opened lettuce leaves. She watched what they did. Lorraine cut hers as she ate and Alice did the same.

  The women drank some of the chilled wine and made a toast. The tree shade moved, and there were birds calling from the lilac bushes and from the trees below the house.

  After a while Alice leaned over to whisper in Lorraine’s ear and Lorraine said, It’s back through the kitchen, I think.

  Is she wanting the bathroom? Willa said.

  Yes.

  Excuse me, Alice said.

  She got up and went to the house. It was cool inside, the kitchen very clean and neat. There were starched curtains at the windows. The little bathroom was off the kitchen, it was clean and neat too, with a picture of a red flower framed on the wall. She washed her hands and looked out the kitchen window into the yard, they were still sitting at the picnic table. She looked through the doorway of the dining room, at the wood table and matching chairs and matching buffet, and farther back was the living room with the window shades drawn down for coolness.

  When she went outside, Alene asked her, Are you okay, honey?

  Yes.

  Did you get enough to eat? Do you want some more iced tea?

  Okay.

  Lorraine said, I’m so satisfied and full. I could nap right here.

  Well, we could, Willa said. We could just lie right down on the grass here in the shade.

  I’ll get some blankets, Mother.

  Alene went in the house and came back with two old chenille bedspreads and laid them out on the lawn.

  What about the food? We don’t want it to spoil.

  I’ll just put it in the refrigerator, Lorraine said. Alice can help me.

  They lay out on the ground in the shade of the tree, with dinner napkins draped over their faces, to ward off the flies. Alice shut her eyes. She could still see light through the napkin. It was nice under the tree with the women.

  We need a little music, Willa said.

  Something soft and slow, Alene said. Piano or violin.

  Then no one said anything for a while. Alice lifted the napkin from her face and looked at them, the three women lying on the ground with the pink napkins over their faces. Then she lay back and shut her eyes.

  I wanted to play the piano, Willa said. I’ve told you this before, Alene.

  Yes.

  We were speaking of music. I wanted to play the piano and my mother bought lessons for me when I was a little girl younger than
Alice here. I walked once a week across the field and paid a quarter per lesson. I walked half a mile across a plowed field to the teacher. I could do the right hand but couldn’t seem to make the left hand play in time, and after a month or two the teacher said to Mother, She doesn’t seem to be making much progress. Doesn’t she practice? Mother said, I don’t believe she does. Then Mother told me, Willa, you either have to practice or give up your lessons. I went out to the barn and just cried. A quarter was a lot of money then, like a dollar is now. Oh, more than a dollar, much more. So I told Mama I’d stop, I wouldn’t waste any more money. I’ve criticized and rebuked myself a hundred times since. I do so like music. I used to dance too.

  I never heard you talk about the dancing, Mother.

  Yes. I did tap dance with shiny shoes.

  Then no one said any more. After a while Alice heard Willa begin to snore and then the softer snoring of Alene and the breathing of Lorraine right beside her. She opened her eyes once more under the cloth, the warm daylight was there, and she shut her eyes.

  When she woke she was surprised that she had been asleep. The women were sitting up, not talking, only looking out toward the barn, waiting for her to wake. It was very hot now in the afternoon, with only a little hot wind blowing.

  We ought to go swimming, Lorraine said. I wish there was a creek out here.

  I used to dunk my head in the stock tank on a hot day, Alene said.

  The cattle are there now, Willa said.

  They wouldn’t bother us.

  It’s so dirty out there.

  It’s not that bad.

  We don’t have any bathing suits.

  Oh damn the bathing suits, Mother.

  They looked at each other and laughed.

  All right then. But we do need towels.

  I’ll get them.

  And we can take out the lawn chairs, Willa said. I’m not sitting in the dirt. I don’t care what you say.

  The three women and the girl walked out to the barn carrying the towels and the lawn chairs and the leftover wine and went in through the gate and crossed the hot empty corral, going out into the pasture through the far gate, and walked along the path worn by the cattle alongside the fence and stopped at the stock tank. There was a pad of concrete laid around it, with dirt and manure below it and mud on the low side of the tank where the tank overflowed, the mud pocked with the deep split hoofprints of cattle. The tank was brimming full. Behind it, the windmill ran water whenever the wind gusted up, the pump banged and clanked, the rod jerked up and down, then the cold fresh clean water spouted out through a long pipe.

  They set the lawn chairs in a line back from the tank. Alice stepped up on the concrete apron and looked in and felt the cold water. On the bottom was a bed of mud and there were strings of green moss around the edges. She could see black tadpoles squirming away into the mud. She went back to the women.

  Lorraine said, Well. Then she just proceeded to take her clothes off and laid them out on a chair. She was white as cream and full breasted with blue veins in her breasts with a swatch of dark hair below her stomach to match the dark hair on her head. They looked at her. She raised her arms. Oh God, what a beautiful day. She stepped toward the tank in the hot manurey dirt and stepped up onto the concrete and leaned over and cupped her hands in the water, her bare back and legs shining in the sun, and doused her face and hair and her breasts and gasped, Oh God! Dear Lord! She lifted one foot onto the rim of the tank and brushed her foot off and stepped over into the water, her body halved, all of her full-fleshed body in the bright sun, and then lowered herself into the water and cried, Goddamn! Oh Jesus! and lay out in the water and disappeared and came up all white and shining. Jesus! Jesus! Then she stood up and turned to them. Come on, all of you, she called. Get in.

  Well then, said Alene.

  And she took her clothes off too. She was pale and thin, a little bony, a little sallow, with small breasts and thin arms and thin thighs and graying hair below. She walked over to the tank and splashed herself and climbed in and squatted down and rose up streaming. Oh Jesus! God bless us! Oh come in, Mother. Alice, come on.

  Alice removed her clothes then. She had a girl’s flat chest and flat stomach, the points of her backbone showed and her shoulder blades were sharp edged and she had no hair there yet, her legs were tanned up to her thighs from wearing shorts and her arms were tanned. She went to the stock tank and dipped her fingers in the water. Lorraine and Alene held out their hands to her and she stepped over into the cold water and caught her breath.

  Honey, Lorraine said, go ahead and yell. You have to.

  Oh Jesus, she said softly.

  They laughed. Yes, Lorraine said. But yell this time. Yell.

  Oh Jesus. Son of a bitch.

  They laughed again. Where in the world did you learn that?

  At school.

  Well. That’s the way then. Let it out. Yell now.

  She yelled a little bit.

  That’s better.

  Now they looked at Willa still outside the tank.

  Mother, come on now. You must.

  Oh. I don’t know.

  Yes. Come on.

  Well. Damnation. All right, then.

  She took her glasses off and set them on a chair and removed her dress and removed her bra and her white old lady’s underwear, she was flat chested with soft pale flaps for breasts, the nipples pointing down, and had a sagging stomach and wide soft hips folded a little and loose thighs and almost no hair below her stomach, almost as unhaired in her old age as Alice was in her youth, and she came over and they held out their hands to her, and she sat sideways on the rim and swung her legs over. Mercy heavens! she cried. Mercy! She cupped water onto her face and chest. Lord! I’m an old woman and I’ve never been naked outdoors before. Look at me. Have you, Alene?

  No, Mother.

  At least you didn’t wait till you were this old.

  Alene leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. We’re out here now, Mother.

  Lorraine pushed off and swung her arms and swam a few strokes across the tank, the water was deep enough, and crossed to the water pipe. She stood up half out of the water gleaming wet and spun around making a wave with her cupped hands and then came swimming back. She stood up again. Then without a word Willa just lay out and began a surprising backstroke that made her appear to be a kind of delicate white bird in the water and went a little ways across the tank and stood up. Her hair had come loose from its pins and was long and full and shiny, then she floated back to them and stood again.

  Your hair is so beautiful, Lorraine said.

  Oh. Thank you. I’ve always been too vain about my hair. I’m afraid I still am.

  It’s beautiful, Mother. I’ve always wished I had your hair instead of mine.

  But you’ve always been so pretty, dear. So tall and graceful.

  Oh no. That’s not true.

  It is, dear.

  Then Lorraine said, Alice, do you know how to swim?

  No.

  Can you float?

  I don’t know how.

  It’s time to learn. Come out here into the middle. Alene, will you help?

  The two women held her as she lay back.

  Now just breathe. And spread your arms out.

  When she began to sink they lifted her up, and after a while she was able to stay up and they stepped back and she lay out on the water, half-submerged, her blue eyes open to the blue sky.

  After a time they got out and sat in the lawn chairs, facing the sun. It was past middle of the afternoon now. The women put on their sunglasses and drank the chilled wine that had been set in the tank and gave Alice a little to taste. They sat naked, drying in the sun. Willa’s long white hair hung down over the chair back.

  Then some of the black cows in the pasture began to come cautiously up to drink. The cattle snorted and switched their tails, looking at the women, until one of the older cows came up and halted and advanced and came on, still watching them, and stepped heavily
up onto the concrete and shoved at the stock water with her black rubbery muzzle and drank and afterward stood dripping, looking at them, and drank again. Then the other cattle came up and drank, their young black calves with them.

  The women and the girl watched one nearby cow with a calf beside her.

  That calf will want to eat when they go back out to the pasture, Willa said. You know how they butt and pull on their mothers.

  Yes, but it’s nice to nurse, Lorraine said. You feel the world might be all right then. And you can feel it down inside you too.

  What if you had to be butted like they do? Willa said. What if you were a milk cow with that great bag hanging down? Think of that between your legs, the way milk cows have to trot with that full bag.

  I know, Lorraine said. But think of a man washing your tits with warm soapy water, fondling you twice a day.

  She and Alene laughed.

  Or a woman, Alene said. Women milk cows too.

  Or a woman, Lorraine said.

  Now you’re going to embarrass Alice and me, Willa said.

  Are you embarrassed, Alice?

  No.

  No. She’s not embarrassed.

  I’m going to get back in, Alice said.

  The women watched her move to the tank, this young thin quiet girl, naked out in the country in the broad daylight. The cows looked at her. She climbed into the tank and lay out flat and floated and paddled her feet and came to the other side and stood. A brief gust of wind rose up, the water spouted from the pipe, and she turned her head and drank.

  The women climbed into the tank with her and squatted down and lay back and floated and stood streaming. Their faces and bodies shining. Later they got out and dried off and put on their clothes and carried the lawn chairs and the empty wine bottle and walked back through the corral and across the hot gravel drive to the house. Their hair was still damp. It felt heavy and cool on the backs of their necks.

  30

  TWO MONTHS AFTER Alene introduced the principal to her mother in a Denver restaurant, she was buying groceries on a Saturday morning in the little town where she taught school. She was standing in the produce section when a short black-haired woman in nice clothes came up to her and without warning reached up and slapped her in the face.