MY FOOLISH HEART
MY FOOLISH HEART
I'm sure you see where this is going. Right now you are saying
to yourself, "By Jove, the lad's falling in love." Well, you're far
quicker than I was,
and I applaud you. All I knew was that this amazing creature had piqued my interest.
She was spirited, she was fiery, she had lovely eyes and a nice smell about
her, but no more than that. Or so I thought.
I stayed up that night as Lou slumbered peacefully on the battered coach.
She had wiped off most of the travel grime and her skin was smooth and
inviting.
Women amaze me. I stare at them in wonder. It's everything -- the way they
walk, the curve of their hips swaying ever so subtly; it's the way each
woman smells differently, whether they bathe in perfume or reek of sweat and
sun; it's their humor, their willingness to forgive and forget, their great
capacity for love and trust and acceptance, the fact that their bodies can give
life.
I know not every woman is a saint. There are women out there just as cold and calculating as men, women who don't choose to forgive, don't choose to give life. Women with hard eyes and unrelenting hearts. But still, I am mystified on the whole, for though they are women, they are as exotic and fascinating as if they were another species. I watched Lou sleep, the hypnotizing rise and fall of her chest and shoulders as she lay on her side, toward me. Her brown hair fell in her face, short, but long enough to cover her soft cheek. She was really quite lovely.
It was late; the mantelpiece clock read four-fifteen. I felt subdued, but
not tired. Eventually even the pleasant occupation of watching Lou sleep
wore thin and I picked up the book I had been reading. I quickly grew intent
on the pages before me and I do not know how long I read before her voice startled
me out of my reverie.
"'A Collection of Poetry and Essays'," she read from the cover of my book.
I closed the book and set it down on my leg, regarding her intently. "Trouble sleeping?"
She shook her head and sat up straight, yawning and stretching like a cat. The blanket fell down around her waist. She wore the white nightgown, her hair mussed and tangled. She curled her legs up to her chest, as innocently as a child. I think that although she had claimed not to be rightened of me, to a degree she had been. I was pleased to note that she seemed to have ceased to be afraid. "No," she said in answer to my question. "I just kinda woke up, I guess." The she pointed to my book. "What are you readin' now?"
"Emerson's 'Success'."
"Is that a poem?"
"Sort of, I suppose. Maybe more of an essay."
The fire crackled before us, tiny shards of ashes flying into the air and landing on the ground. We watched the bright flames.
"Read it to me."
I was surprised but tried not to show it. "Is it normal for a hostage to ask her captor to read poetry to her?"
By the light of the fire I could see her roll her eyes. "You feel comfortable around me, Louise. Why is that? You've no reason to; I've kidnapped you, you know."
"I'm pretty well aware of that."
"Then why? It's useless to deny it, I can see that you are: you're comfortable. You've relaxed."
"I told you I wasn't scared of you."
"That's no reason for you to look quite so at home."
"You're a real bastard, you know that?" But she said it more out of exasperation, it seemed, than anger.
"And that comforts you?" I persisted.
Lou laughed. "You just don't give up, do you?"
"Would you be here if I did?"
She shrugged her slim shoulders and squeezed her arms tighter around her
knees. "I don't know," she said lamely. "I guess it's because
I'm not
scared. I feel more irritated than anything. I don't like feelin' helpless,
and bein' here makes me feel helpless. But...I don't know. I have to make
the most of it. You're obviously not goin' to hurt me, no matter what you said
to Cody, so it'd be pointless to sit here and make myself miserable. It
feels more like I'm havin' to visit with someone I don't particularly care to
visit with." Then she turned to eye me with a steely gaze. "But that
don't mean I wouldn't take the first opportunity to get the hell out of here."
I roared with laughter. "Well, that's admirable."
"Read me 'Success'."
"Success: to laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent
people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the
best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child,
a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.'" I
looked up at her quietly intent face. "Ralph Waldo Emerson."
"That sounds like somethin' Teaspoon would tell us," Lou said thoughtfully.
"You and these gentlemen with odd names," I said. "Kid. Teaspoon. Who else do you live with? Baby? Knife?"
She grinned wickedly. "You'll be meetin' them all soon enough when they come lookin' for me."
I laughed. "I'll look forward to it, then."
"You must be tired, sittin' up all this time just to keep an eye on me."
"Not at all. I don't need much sleep. Can I ask you something, Louise?"
"You just did."
I narrowed my eyebrows, confused. Then I caught her grin. "Very funny."
"Couldn't resist. And don't call me Louise, all right? Call me Lou."
"Louise is a very beautiful name. Why don't you like it?"
"Is that the question you wanted to ask me?"
I was beginning to feel exasperated, but rather amused. "Actually, no."
"Well, I'll answer it anyway: I like the name Louise. But I like bein' called Lou."
"Very well, then...Lou...actually, that fits in with what I want to ask you. Why exactly do you travel dressed in men's clothes?"
"You're gettin' mighty personal, Rafferty."
"I'm intrigued."
"That's a fancy way of sayin' nosy. But to answer your question, I
ride for the Pony Express. I can't exactly go prancin' around in dresses and
bonnets."
"You mean *you* ride for the Express?" I was duly impressed. "When I saw you both riding I knew you were with the Express, but finding out you were a woman made me think otherwise. Amazing."
Lou looked miffed. "What's amazin'? That a girl can handle the job?"
I threw my hands in the air. "Touchy, touchy. That's not what I meant
at all. I think it's amazing that you've gotten away with your charade for so
long."
"Others know. The boys I live with, but they wouldn't tell. They're my family." Suddenly she looked like a lost little girl and she drew the blanket around her shoulders, biting her lower lip.
"Are you cold?"
She nodded. "Why is it so cold? It was warm yesterday."
"Probably the last hurrah of fall. I think we're gearing up for winter. Didn't you feel that nip in the air as we were riding back?"
"Not really. I was pretty warm." Then Lou stopped and blushed
furiously; remembering, I'm sure, that she had traveled back wrapped in my arms.
It's not in my nature to let sleeping dogs lie. If I want to know something,
it's generally impossible to stop me from asking. I said, "And what would
your fellow say if he knew that I'd kept you warm on a cold night?"
"That's none of your business."
"That's the third time you've said that to me."
"As you pointed out, Rafferty, you're my kidnapper; what kind of a woman would I be to confide in the man holdin' me hostage?"
"A delightful one," I said, smiling. "You keep me on my toes, Louise -- pardon me...Lou. You're quite refreshing to have around."
"You're used to women fallin' all over you, aren't you?" She had one eyebrow raised, studying me. I found I didn't mind.
"To a certain extent, yes," I said.
"Well, don't go thinkin' I'm goin' to be one of 'em. It takes a lot more than a handsome face and a nice smile to turn my head."
I was delighted. "You think I'm handsome?"
She ignored me. "I'm just a challenge to you, that's all. You like challenges. Well, I won't be a prize for you in your little game."
"You keep referring to a 'game'. What makes you think I'm playing a game?"
"Isn't that why I'm here? You were about to lose and you couldn't have that. You had to make sure you won, right? Kidnappin' me was just your next move to make sure you won the game."
I was stunned that she had seen it that way. Because, of course, she was right. Not that I had ever thought of it like that. "I've never thought of it like that," I said.
"Men," she huffed, "I can read you like dime store novels. Once you read the first chapter, the rest of it's easy to follow."
"Interesting analogy."
"I'm tired," she said, yawning again, not responding to my last statement. She lay back down, drawing the covers up to her neck. "If you want to sleep, go ahead. I won't be goin' anywhere."
My mind was whirling. God, she made my blood boil with that cool, dismissive
tone of hers. I didn't remember a woman ever speaking to me like
that before. Outside, it began to snow.