Beneath the Apple Leaves(33)
“I’m glad.” Lily let out a sigh of relief, took to ladling the griddlecakes into the hot pan with renewed vigor. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than when I was pregnant.”
“And the babies?”
Eveline leaned back, the fatigue settling in dark circles under her eyes. “Can’t say any of us slept. Twins cried most of the night.”
“I was thinking that maybe . . .” Lily paused, kept the spatula hovering over the pan. “Well, it’s just that if you need some help, I’d be happy to watch the little ones for you. Now and then, if you want.”
As if on cue, a small cry wafted from upstairs followed by a second, the cries accelerating and feeding off one another. “Dear Lily,” Eveline said as she pulled herself up from the chair. “I think you might have been sent straight from Heaven.”
With breakfast over and the family well fed, Lily scraped the pans and washed the dishes in the boiled water, then took over with the twins while Eveline unpacked the rest of the house, still piled high with boxes from the move. Lily took the twins outside, bundling them up tightly and carrying them like two brown grocery bags against her shoulders. And their little bodies warmed her just as she warmed them, and together they explored the farm in a cozy embrace.
She turned near the barn and saw Mr. Kiser and Andrew repairing a corncrib, tightening the bolts that would keep the metal frame compact for the day when it would be bloated with corn shucks and cobs. The older boys, Will and Edgar, scattered in the yard, picking up sticks and drying them in the sun for kindling.
Lily parked on a rock under the great apple tree and peered up through the canopy of reddening apples. She had sat in those limbs whining for weeks about the Kisers coming and now she could have sung with the bluebirds. As she cradled the babies, she turned her attention back to the men at the barn—to Andrew—and tried not to look like she was staring. The young man must have been her age, probably a bit older. She watched the way he worked with the one arm, saw the set features harden when he struggled to gain a grip or was pushed aside from his uncle. She looked at her own arm, pondered what it would feel like to only have one.
Baby Otto scrunched against her breast and let out a loud wail. Both men looked up. Andrew laid his wrench on the ground and walked toward her. Suddenly shy, she wanted to run away, whispered to the baby to hush even as she angered at her own hammering pulse. She scurried off the rock and turned to head back to the house.
“Nice to see you armed with babies instead of apples,” Andrew quipped from behind her.
She turned and her body stiffened, nearly calcified with the strong voice. She wanted to flee. She didn’t know why, grew anxious and nervous as her sister.
Andrew came so close that his shadow climbed upon her own. “I never got to thank you for breakfast. Best meal I’ve had in a year.” He smiled softly, beautifully, his teeth white and straight below the gentle curve of his lip. She blushed and she didn’t know what was happening. She hoisted the twins up higher, thought the heat from the little bodies made her sweat. She didn’t want to look at him.
“It was nothing.” She started to turn back to the house, just needed some air, needed to feel normal again.
“Here.” He inched closer. “Let me take one of them for you.”
“No.” She pulled away, felt a fierce heat fire up her neck.
“Oh.” His mouth evened with the rebuff.
“It’s just—” She inched back. “It’s just they need to feed now. Why they’re so fussy is all.”
He nodded and turned around, walked slowly back to the corncrib. Lily pressed her forehead against Harold’s. She felt dizzy. Scared and dizzy and she didn’t know why.
*
Lily didn’t want to stare at the young man with one arm, but she found her eyes glued upon his figure whenever he came into view, her will little against the pull. She watched him work. His tall, muscular body already tanning with the outdoor labor, his face always strong and intent with focus. But it was the light of him that seized her. A light that warmed the veins, brought color to her cheeks and made her stomach churn with anxiety when his body neared.
On this night, after working at the Kisers’ all day, Lily returned home in the same dull darkness that dawn had brought that morning. Her thoughts were heavy, not with work but with an indescribable weight. There was warmth back at the Kiser homestead. Despite the crumbling, mildew-stained house, the warmth of babies and smiles and family erased all that was unlovely.
Andrew flashed before her again and the heat came back, made her swallow. He was always being so nice to her and she didn’t know why. She couldn’t even speak to him without wanting to run away. Maybe inside he mocked her. This made her insides sour. After all, she was just a dumb country girl. She had been to town enough times to know what pretty girls looked like, and she wasn’t one of them. The young women in town had clean, store-bought dresses and satin ribbons tied in their hair. They wore shiny shoes and stockings that made their legs appear longer and more defined. She’d never been jealous of those girls before, more curious than anything. Lily was of the same gender but a different breed altogether.
Andrew’s blue eyes followed her home, so clear and deep that they pierced into her skin. Yes, that was it. They saw right through her, and nobody wanted to see what was in there. When he looked at her, there was nowhere to hide and she wanted to hide. It was always safer to hide.