The Song of David(76)

I KEPT DRIVING. The weather was clear, the sun shining, the sky blue, the air crisp and cool, so I drove and I thought. I pulled into Moses and Georgia’s driveway late in the afternoon, and the sky was so radiant over the crouching hills west of town that I stopped for a minute as I stepped out of my truck and just let the view settle on me. But the beauty just made me ache. What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do? The chorus started up in my head again.

No one answered the door, and I ended up walking around back to see if anyone was in the pasture beyond. Moses was becoming more and more comfortable around animals, though it was Georgia who was the horsewoman. She was working on her man, and had coaxed Moses into the saddle enough times that he had actually started to enjoy it, though he grumbled and scowled whenever I asked him about it.

Georgia was in the round corral, dead center, running a glossy sorrel around in circles. The sorrel seemed to be cooperating, and Georgia’s attention was glued on the animal, talking, reassuring, applying pressure and then releasing it to draw him to her. She was nothing like Moses. And she was perfect for him. I’d known it the moment she’d opened her mouth, the moment she looked in my eyes and stuck out her hand.

“Hey George.” I called her George because Moses hated it.

“Hey Tag! What’s happenin’ handsome?” Georgia’s face lit up in a smile so big the ache in my chest spread to my gut and made my insides twist. I missed her already. I didn’t want to miss her. What am I gonna do? What the hell am I gonna do? She strode to the fence, stepped up on the bottom rung and reached for me, pulling me into a fierce hug.

I needed that hug. I needed it so badly. But I knew if I gave in to the need to hold onto her longer than I usually did, she would sense my turmoil, and she would know something was up. So I squeezed her tight and let her go, and put a smile on my lips that felt like a lie and called on my God-given ability to bullshit. It was a talent that had served me well in my life.

“Hey baby. Where’s Mo?” Yep. I still had it. My voice was smooth and my hands were steady as I pulled the hat off her head and perched it on my own. Always the flirt, even with my best friend’s wife, even when I was hanging by an emotional thread. It was just my way. And Georgia knew it. She grabbed her hat back and ducked under the fence to join me on the other side. The horse she’d been working with whinnied at the loss of attention, and Georgia looked back and laughed.

“Oh, now you want me around, Sis? You were running from me a minute ago!”

“Ah, but the chase is the best part, George. You know that,” I said, laughing with her, my eyes on the disappointed sorrel. “The moment you turn away is the moment she’ll beg you to come back.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Georgia laughed. “But it’s my turn to play hard to get. Speaking of hard to get, you just missed Moses. He had a session tonight in Salt Lake. I think he was going to drop by and see you, actually. But you’re here. So that’s not going to work. You didn’t bring Millie?”

I winced. I didn’t mean to. But I couldn’t think about Millie. Not right now.

“Tag?” Georgia hadn’t missed the wince, and she studied me, a troubled groove between her eyes.

“Nah. I didn’t bring her. It was a spur of the moment trip. Moses called me, said he’d painted me into a picture last night, and I was curious. That’s all. Plus, I miss my God-baby. I want to hold her. Where is little Taglee?”

“My mom’s got her.” Georgia pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Moses didn’t tell me about the painting. Let’s go snoop, shall we?”

I didn’t really care about the painting—it was just the first thing that had popped into my mind—but I trailed after Georgia agreeably and kept a steady stream of bullshit coming so that she wouldn’t get too close.

It was David and Goliath, but lusty and lush, with bold colors and barely covered bodies, as if the biblical confrontation between a shepherd and a soldier had taken place in the Garden of Eden instead of on a battlefield.

Moses’s David was small and young. A boy really, ten or eleven, younger than I imagined he had actually been. And in the boyish face, I saw my own. The shaggy hair, the green eyes, the strong stance. I hadn’t looked like that at eleven. I’d been rounder, softer. And I’d been big for my age. My size had made me a target, the way physical difference always does.

Goliath was huge, towering over the boy like they belonged to two different species. His biceps and thighs bulged, his calves were unnaturally large, and his shoulders were as wide as the boy was tall. His head was thrown back, and his mouth was gaping, as if he roared like the beast he resembled. The fists clenched at his sides were bigger than the boys head, and young David stood stoically looking up at Goliath, his sling hanging from his hand, his eyes solemn. I leaned in closer, noting the detail, the lack of fear on the boy’s face. I looked at Goliath again, comparing and contrasting, and then my breath caught in my throat. I didn’t just see my face reflected in David. I saw myself in Goliath too.