Benediction (Plainsong #3)(73)

I can’t see, Berta May said. Is it her?

Yes. It must be.

I don’t see no bicycle.

Lorraine began to run, and Lyle ran after her. The women hurried after them. Lorraine was first and grabbed her up in her arms and lifted her up and swung her around and held her tight. She set her down. The girl was dirty and scared. Oh, are you all right? She looked closely into her face.

Yes.

You are, aren’t you?

I got lost. I went out on a country road and it got dark and then I went the wrong way. A pickup came by and I went down in the ditch. I cut my tire on a bottle.

Did the ones in the pickup bother you?

No.

They didn’t stop?

No. I crawled under the fence and ran out in the field. But I left my bike there.

Never mind, Lyle said. We’ll get it tomorrow.

Oh God! I’m so glad you’re all right. Here’s your grandmother.

The women had all hurried up. The girl went to Berta May and the old woman wrapped her in her arms.

Oh my oh my oh my. Don’t you ever—

The girl burst into tears.

Don’t you ever do that again. Do you hear me?

I’m sorry, Grandma. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.

I’m not mad. You’re home now.

I got lost.

I know. But you’re here now. It’s all right.

I saw the streetlights. That’s how I knew where to go. My bike’s still out there, Grandma.

Oh I don’t care. I don’t care about nothing else. You came home by yourself, didn’t you. I turned the lights on. But you didn’t see them, did you.

I saw the streetlights out in the country.

The women stayed close around and they each hugged the girl in turn and cried over her and petted her dirty sunburned face.

We better get you in the house, Berta May said. We got to get you cleaned up. Look at you. Lord, what a mess. I expect you can eat something too.

You want me to bring over a plate of food from the house? Mary said.

No, I had our supper cooked two hours ago.

They walked back in the street to the house that was still lit up in the night and Berta May and the girl went inside. The others stood out on the sidewalk and watched, the lights were turned off one by one and the old house went dark again except at the back.

We should go home too, Willa said. It’s time.

Yes. Good night, Alene said.

Lyle said good night and Lorraine put her arms around him and he got in his car and drove off and the Johnson women drove off toward the sandhills.

Lorraine laced her arm through her mother’s arm and they went inside and turned on the lamp at Dad’s chair by the window so the light shone out into the side yard and then they went back to the kitchen and sat together at the table and drank coffee and talked a little very quietly.

That was on a night in August. Dad Lewis died early that morning and the young girl Alice from next door got lost in the evening and then found her way home in the dark by the streetlights of town and so returned to the people who loved her.

And in the fall the days turned cold and the leaves dropped off the trees and in the winter the wind blew from the mountains and out on the high plains of Holt County there were overnight storms and three-day blizzards.





Acknowledgments


The author wishes to thank Gary Fisketjon, Nancy Stauffer, Mark and Virginia Spragg,

Mark and Kathy Haruf, Gabrielle Brooks, Carol Carson, Ruthie Reisner, Kathleen Fridella,

Jim and Jane Elmore, Peter and Jill Brown, Will Archuletta, Lura McKinley, Leslie

Stockton, Rev. Andy Dunning, Rev. George Christie, Dr. Paul Ilecki, Rev. Saundra Nottingham,

Sorel Haruf, Whitney Haruf, Chaney Haruf Matsukis, Jane Templeton, Virginia Davis,

Heather Austin, and especially Cathy Haruf.