Fifty-Five, Oak

Fifty-Five

Oak

1 July 1824

Nan and I sat silent for a bit, and I said to her, Did you ever suspect that Susie was our sister?

Nan thought about this, then said, You know, I guess if I were to be truthful, then yes, I did suspect it.  But I did not want to think about it.  It was just easier that way.

I told her that I had thought the same way.

I wonder if Susie knows, I said.  Or if we should say anything. 

I think not, said Nan.

Goodness me, she said after a bit.  This is more than a body can take.

I thought to myself, you have no idea.

We hugged, and she took her leave.  It was just before eleven in the forenoon, and Charlotte was in need of assistance which I saw to.  But I wondered where John was, what he was doing.  I thought that he surely will not miss the class meeting tonight.

I was correct, for  he came to our dwelling two hours in advance of the appointed hour.  He was prepared to not eat a meal, as he did not wish to put a burden on us, but he said that he wanted to see me early.  Warner and Charlotte of course invited him for a meal, assuring him that it was just a simple stew with some bread, and that there was plenty for all.

I noticed that John had bruises on his right knuckles, and that they had bled fairly recently.  I did not say anything during dinner, as I had not said anything to Warner or Charlotte about the events as they were unfolding.  I am certain that the latter both noticed, but they were polite and did not ask the source of his injury.

After supper dishes were washed and dried (John and I having shared a bowl, for dishes were scarce), we began walking on the path to the river, and later, to the class meeting.  I thought, we are certainly beating this path down with all the tramping on it as of late.

As soon as we were at a safe distance, I made my enquiry.

What happened to your fist, John? 

I was afraid of the answer.  But then, Nan had said nothing of Father being hurt the other night.  Would she have hidden such a detail from me?

John stopped walking, and turned to me, looking at me squarely. 

I had a fight with a tree, he said.

I took this in, then started laughing.  I always seem to laugh at the most inappropriate times.  But John looked glad that I was taking all of this in stride.  He is normally very cool with his emotions, and not one to be temperamental, so it had been completely out of character for him to have lost his temper..

I really wanted to... well, that is not important now, Louisa.  But we should decide what we are going to do.

I loved hearing him say "we". 

I do not believe that I harmed the tree much, he said.

I had some words with your father, some of them I cannot repeat.  And he just stood there and took it.  He even seemed a little sad, or a little sorry.  I was about to yell at him about how he could have done such a thing to Susie, and to TJ, but he started coughing.  Louisa, he is quite an ill man.

John did not say this last part sympathetically. Rather, it was a statement of fact.  An explanation for why John was unable to continue the conversation and no more.

He was coughing up blood, John said.  He had come out of the house without a handkerchief, so he was spitting into the grass.  I decided then to leave.  For I cannot fight with a sick man who has no desire to fight, and he clearly did not wish to fight.

I got on my horse, and rode, hard, for I was still angry.  When I had gotten just about to Warner's house, I pulled up short.  I had a desire to know that you were all right.  However, I was in no state to see you, or to see anyone.  That is when I had it out with a tree. 

Indeed, it is that one, over there, he said, pointing to an oak. 

The bark was rough, and the wood was hard, so I guess I got what punishment God intended for me to have, he said, touching his knuckles.

I took his injured hand into mine, and gently touched each knuckle.  This one was for Susie, said I as I stroked his index knuckle.  And this one was for TJ.  The next was for me.  The last was for you.

As I touched his last knuckle, he took his hand, with his index and middle finger lightly touching my chin, pointing it upward.  He looked into my eyes for what seemed an eternity.  Those hazel eyes that are like mine, but in his you can see forever.

Louisa, he said, softly.

It was then that he gently kissed me.  It was so tender that it was almost worshipful.  I could feel the plumpness of his lips as they touched mine.  But the kiss ended, it seemed, in the time that it takes a butterfly to open and shut its wings. 

I allowed just a little sweet stillness to pass between us, and then I yelped, Hallelujah! 

I took off running, and then skipping, but just a little ways, then circled back.  I was grinning and John was perhaps a little surprised.  I am certain he meant for it to be a tender moment, and it was.  But I had to shout.  Indeed, I had to!  I jumped up and down, and then clapped.  For I was five again, and as excited as one that age on Christmas morning.

John, exclaimed I.  I have been waiting for that kiss FOREVER. 

And I laughed, and as it seems to happen with us, he joined in with me in laughter, but only after looking bewildered first.