MY FOOLISH HEART
MY FOOLISH HEART
Harry didn't come back that evening, which was to be expected. By nightfall Lou still had not come out of the room where she had sequestered herself from me. For my part, I spent the remainder of the day trying to read. I say "trying" because my attempts consisted of staring at the pages and doing my best to absorb the words. I failed miserably, and by suppertime I threw my book across the room. It landed against the wall with a thud and went clattering to the floor. The binding broke and it lay face-up, the pages sticking straight into the air.
I had tried to draw Lou out several times since the morning, but to no avail. She ignored me. I could hear her stirring within the room from time to time, but she never responded to my entreaties. Finally I stopped trying. But when it grew dark, I heard the door open, and a moment later Lou walked out, blinking in the lamplight. "It's dark in there," was all she said to me.
"Would you like a lamp to take with you?"
She shook her head. "I'll just stay in here for a while."
My heart beat wildly, but I kept my voice as calm as I could. "Would you like something to eat?"
"I think so."
Within minutes I had bacon sizzling in the pan and the pleasant aroma soon filled the room. It was to be a simple dinner again.
"Harry's not back yet?"
"I doubt he'll be back any time soon. Have you looked outside lately?"
Lou walked to the window and peered out. Thick drifts of snow
covered the few trees that surrounded the house, the whiteness dazzling against
the
black night. "It's beautiful," she breathed.
"I thought so, myself."
"Does it snow much where you came from?"
"Yes, but not in October."
"Were you rich?"
I looked at her questioningly. "What makes you think that?"
"The way you talk. The way you dress. The things you read."
I laughed. "Yes, I suppose we were rich," I said.
"Is that why you steal? So you can still have that kind of life?"
I froze, offended. "Look around you, Lou -- this isn't exactly the lap of luxury."
"Then what? I've been sittin' in there, Rafferty, and I've been tryin' to figure you out. I've thought and I've thought, tryin' to figure out what would make someone like you choose this kind of life!"
"Someone like me?" I echoed.
She sighed and ticked each statement off on her fingers, "You're educated, you're smart, you're handsome, you've got a head for plannin'. You've got everything you need to be successful. You could do anything you set your mind to."
"Did it every occur to you that this is what I've set my mind to?"
"I don't believe that. There's more to you than this."
For some reason that really angered me. Maybe because she was acting so calm and composed while inside I was in turmoil. "What the hell do you know? You think twenty-four hours with me qualifies you to analyze me?"
She shrank back at the force of my tone. "I guess I thought
we...I guess I thought we were sort of..." Her voice trailed off as she
gestured with her
hand in a manner I suppose was to indicate she was at a loss for words.
"What I do is my business and should be of no concern
to you. I'm sorry if my lifestyle doesn't fit in with your idea of what's right
and proper; I'm
sorry if I don't fit in with your picture perfect 'boys'. I'm a different person,
Lou, and you don't know the first thing about me."
"That's why I'm askin' you!" she shouted.
My anger faded and I said quietly, "Lou, do you remember our circumstances? I've kidnapped you. I'm holding you hostage. You're not supposed to be interested in why I do what I do."
"You're right," she admitted. She ran her hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."
I tried to still my heart as she turned and went to sit on the sofa. I watched the downward tilt of her head, the slight trembling of her hands as she folded them in her lap. Her posture belied her apparent calm. For the first time I felt the need to apologize. I set the plate of biscuits down. "I'm sorry, Lou."
She looked up at me in surprise.
"I'm sorry that I caused all of this. Your friends are
out there in this mess because of me. They're worried about you and you're worried
about them." The guilt had begun to eat away at me. It was truly a remarkable
thing. I had never before given much thought to the plights of those who
happened to cross my path. I never thought of the families that worried about
them and that they worried about in turn. Right now there were men
sick with fear over Lou, not knowing whether she was alive or dead, safe or
harmed. If Lou were mine and she were taken from me, my rage and fright would
know no bounds.
Lou looked away, out again into the white world beyond the
house. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "I have to believe
they're
safe," she said in a faraway voice. "I have to believe that, or I'll
go crazy."
The snow didn't let up. Night fell and Lou and I braced ourselves against the cold that seeped into the house however big we built the fire. I was astounded by the weather, this startling change in the prairie climate, the hard slap of winter against our faces. I had to feed my horse and was grateful he had a barn to rest in. I didn't force Lou to come with me. In fact, I insisted she stay behind.
"Your poor horse," she said as I bundled myself up, preparing to walk to the barn. "He's all alone out there. He must be awfully lonely."
I smiled at this sentimentality. "Would you like me to bring him back here with me?"
She grinned. "I think he'll be all right in the barn."
"I shouldn't be more than an hour. There's plenty of wood, so if you get cold, just add as much as you like." I wrapped a muffler around my neck. "All right?"
Lou nodded. "Be careful."
It was a good thing I was facing the door when she said that, otherwise she would have seen the blush rage across my face. Her concern warmed me more than it should have, more than it was intended to.
I took a deep breath, my hand at the door. "Here goes nothing..." I yanked the door open. The wind immediately struck against my face, momentarily paralyzing me with its cold. "Stay back!" I yelled to Lou. I pulled the door shut behind me. I could feel Lou pushing from inside the house. It closed with a loud slam.
And then I was alone.
The world was magnificent, a palace of snow and crystal; trees with heavy
white branches, hilltops lining the horizon as white as drifts of sugar, and
all around me beautiful, gorgeous snow. All was still and quiet, the sounds
of the prairie muffled by the whistling wind. The air was cool and crisp;
when I breathed it in, its sharpness cut my nostrils. It was so clear that every
star in the sky looked closed enough to touch, their brilliance dazzling. It
was a glorious night. For a long moment I just stood and stared around me, a
silly smile spread across my face. For as long as I could remember, winter had
touched me more deeply than any other season. I loved everything about it, even
its dangers. But it *was* bloody cold. I rubbed my hands together and continued
my trek to the barn, loving the sound of my footsteps in the snow. I felt as
happy and carefree as a child, making each step deliberately harder so that
the snow crunched louder. I took larger steps, spreading them out, till I walked
like a man eight feet tall, my strides spread further and further apart. I giggled
to myself, thinking of days gone by, winters when Sara and I would tumble in
the snow, making snow angels and having snowball fights.
"I wonder..." I whispered to myself. "Can I remember how..." Thinking back, I remembered exactly how it was done, and without ceremony I threw myself back into the snow, landing with a resounding thud. I spread my arms and legs out and ran them up and down next to my body, over and over, blowing into the air to see my breath stand out like a puff of smoke. I wondered if Sara was watching, laughing at me as I made an angel in the snow.
After a minute I rose, careful not to disturb the figure I had created
in the whiteness. I stood and surveyed my creation. Nicely done. Sara would
have been proud.
I looked back to the house where the chimney was puffing like mad to keep
up with the fire. Lou was in there, her pretty face lit by the lamp, her
hair shining, probably hoping I would freeze to death out here and leave her
to escape. My eyes slid to the window. It took a moment to realize that
Lou's face was there, peering out at me. I squinted closer to verify, and indeed
it was. And if her posture was anything to go by, she was laughing at me.
My face colored with humiliation. She had been watching me make a snow
angel; watching her big, imposing, temperamental abductor flop about in the
snow like a child on Christmas Day. How embarrassing. I turned, my head held
high, and with as much dignity as I could muster, I went on to the barn. Rocky
seemed pleased to see me. I spent a pleasant few minutes feeding and petting
him, letting my humiliation fade into the background. I had put it all into
perspective: if it had given her a laugh, well, it was the least I could do
for her. I've never been one to linger over such things, and I have an easy
time laughing at myself. I would have had to have been completely devoid of
humor not to appreciate the funny ide
of such a scene.
I kept Rocky company for quite a while. He was a handsome creature and I was very fond of him. He nuzzled me for a bit as I murmured nonsense to him, and then the cold began to bite at me and I knew it was time to go in. My fingers began to feel numb despite my thick gloves, and the tip of my nose was frozen. My limbs felt heavy with the cold, my breeches chafing against my skin.
"It's definitely time to go in, Rocky." I patted his nose one last time and then left the barn. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, coaxing warmth back into my blood to no avail. The sooner I was back inside the better. I should have known the hole was there. It was covered in snow, but I still should have remembered it was there. It had been there for several weeks now, despite my weekly demands that Harry plug it up before one of the horses stepped in it and broke their neck.
My foot slipped through the pile of snow, down until it met the hole. I
felt my ankle twist and give way and I went crashing to the ground after it.
It took only a second for the pain to kick in, and I spewed every curse word
that came to mind in a long, unbroken string: "Damn and blast and bloody
hell and sod the flipping..." I continued for several minutes. With that
out of my system, I paused to reflect upon my situation. The house was within
view, but still a goodly length away. I was sure I could make it. I stood again.
The pain was excruciating, but I could ignore it. I hobbled my way onward. God,
but it was cold. The snow was falling fast, obscuring my line of vision. Soon
all I could see were the bright streaks of white that fell from the sky. The
lights from the house grew fuzzy. The wind stung my face, every drop of snow
like the prick of a needle against my skin. My movements grew sluggish. After
a few steps I forgot to go lightly on my twisted ankle, and I stepped hard,
once again falling to the ground. I
felt my head connect with something hard and sharp and unyielding.
I found I lacked the energy to try to right myself again. I sat up, but then grew tired, and quickly laid back down on the cold snow, panting with the effort. I was so cold it felt as if my layers of clothing were thin as tissue paper. I could feel every particle of snow as if it were directly against my skin. My ankle throbbed, my head ached, and there was a curious feeling at my side. With my last shred of strength I removed one glove and slipped my bare hand under my jacket, touching my shirt with searching fingers. When I removed my hand again it was red with blood. My knife wound had reopened.
"Yuck," I commented in disgust. I wiped my hand on the snow, sending bright streaks of red slashing against its pure whiteness. I stared up at the sky, the stars as hard and clear as diamonds. I struggled to regain my breath. The cold had seeped into my lungs. I drew in deeply and exhaled. I shouted, "Lou!"
Then I waited for a response. Nothing. I tried again. I called her name
four times and received nothing in reply. After that I was too exhausted, so
I gave up. Every time I inhaled I winced in pain. My thoughts grew hazy. Soon
even the stars were out of focus. Then I heard footsteps, not loud crunches
in the snow, but the soft patter of someone treading lightly. I heard the rustle
of silk and a shadow loomed over me.
I peered closely. My heart lifted. "Sara?"
Her brown hair was a halo around her face. She knelt beside me and smiled,
placing her hand on my chest. "Sara, where have you been?"
She just smiled and said nothing. "Sara, I have so much to tell you! I've
missed you so! Can you stay?" She shook her head no. "Please, Sara,
I've missed you so. I need you." She shook her head again. "Sara,
please..." At the look on her face, I said, "You're ashamed of me,
aren't you? You're ashamed of what I've become." Sara made no move to respond,
but the sad, disappointed look in her eyes said it all for me. She leaned forward
and kissed my forehead, then rose once more and backed slowly away. "No,
wait! Don't go! Sara, don't go! I need you! Sara, please!"
In a second she was gone and I was left alone, my voice echoing in the night.
"I must be insane," I said to myself. "I'm hallucinating, that must be it." But she had seemed so real, so vivid. Sara. My sister, my friend, my torturer, my conscience. She had been gone three years now. I don't know how long I lay there, but soon my thoughts began to spin in a thousand different directions. Memories floated through my clouded brain like pinwheels, with no rhyme, reason, or order -- sailing to America with my father and my sister...burying my mother the year before...crying for her at night...Sara singing me to sleep, her big sister duties never-ending...growing up tall and strong with my mother's eyes and lips and hair, a source of pride to my sister, but a source of pain to my father...Nan, the first girl I kissed at a saucy thirteen years old...meeting Harry in Abilene two years ago...Sara's murder three years ago...seeing Lou in that nightgown, watching her sleep.
I thought back to that first, accidental step in the direction of my career.
That step that had been the point of no return, though I hadn't realized it
at the time. I was no longer cold. My insides had begun to warm. I could feel
warmth flowing to my fingertips and toes. It was a delicious feeling. I sighed
with contentment. I began to sweat under my hat and clothes. I was achingly
tired. There was no harm in a few minutes sleep, surely...
I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me. My last thought was of a poem I
had read by Emily Dickinson.
Because I could not stop for Death,
he kindly stopped for me...