If Wishes Were Horses (43 page)

At night she would look down from her bedroom window at the empty place where Johnny’s pickup truck usually sat, or she would gaze up the lane, looking for headlights.

All of this was most wearing on her nerves, and Latrice’s constant observation was not a help in the matter.

“I wish you would not watch me as if you are certain I am about to either expire or turn into a raving madwoman,” Etta told her impatiently.

“I wish that Johnny Bellah had never showed up,” Latrice said. “You need to just forget him.”

“I imagine I should forget him . . . and I imagine I will in time,” Etta said. “But I’m not sorry he came here. I wouldn’t throw away all he brought us.”

She pushed through the screen door and went out on the porch, looked out over the dusty corrals, where Johnny should have been.

Latrice came behind and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I only want you to be happy,” she said. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Etta laid her paler, rougher hand over Latrice’s. “I know that. I’ve always known that, and I count on it.” They shared a grin.

“I don’t know how to pray,” Etta said then in a hoarse voice. “It doesn’t seem right to pray for Johnny to come back. It seems like that’s tryin’ to order his life. But sometimes I can’t help but say that.”

“It’s okay to tell God how you feel, honey,” Latrice said. “That’s what prayin’s all about. I pray that boy gets the whippin’ he deserves, but God knows what I mean is please take it all and make what’s best for us. God knows the heart, honey.”

Etta noticed Latrice’s abundant use of honey again and was comforted.

One afternoon when Etta and Bennie returned from a rodeo in Lindsey, Obie and Latrice were waiting for her on the porch. Lattie Kate had at last accepted a bottle, so Etta had been gone since early morning.

“We won,” Etta told them happily.

That day she had felt more like her old self than she had in weeks. It had shown in her riding, and Little Gus had beat all other riders’ time by a full two seconds. She and Bennie had discussed taking Little Gus to a big fall rodeo in Oklahoma City the next weekend.

After she put Little Gus up and waved goodbye to Bennie, Etta walked over to the porch and took Lattie Kate into her arms. She noticed then that Obie and Latrice seemed to be glaring at each other.

“What’s wrong? You two look like you might be ready to shoot?”

Latrice kept her jaw clamped and looked straight ahead. Obie rubbed his hair and said, “Miz Etta, Johnny come by this afternoon.”

Etta felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach. “He did?”

“Yes, ma’am. He and I went out and had lunch and had us a real nice visit.”

Latrice was still stating straight ahead and rocking heartily.

“Well, I’m glad you had a nice visit, Obie.” Etta’s heart was clogging her throat. “I’m sorry I missed him.”

To that, Latrice said, “Huh!”

“Miz Etta, I thought you might like to know he came by and that he has a place down in Cotton County, south of Lawton. He’s started a horse operation there.”

“He has?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Latrice sprang out of her chair. “I’ll throw the leftovers from the noon meal on the table. If you’re hungry, come on, if you're comin’.”

No more was said about Johnny. Indeed, the meal was very subdued. Etta gave an account of her and Little Gus’s performance, and that was short in the telling, as her mind kept drifting to Johnny and the possibility before her. She did not ask anything further about him, however. She didn’t see any need in getting Latrice worked up any more than she was.

Just after lunch the following day, Etta rose from the table and asked Latrice to please watch Lattie Kate for the afternoon.

“You’re goin’ to go see Johnny Bellah, aren’t you?” Latrice said.

“Yes.”

Latrice, obviously bursting with opinion, but trying to restrain herself, said, “Are you sure? You might should pray over this some more.’’

“I have prayed,” Etta said, as she left the room and went to shower and change into her prettiest dress.

Several times as she was getting ready, Latrice popped in to offer further cautions. “You should wait for him to come here. He came once, likely he’ll come again. You’re rushin’ headlong.”

The cautions did not deter Etta; she had made up her mind to go to him.

But seeing Latrice getting quite wrought up, Etta said, “I am not going to abandon my home and take off with him. I am simply going to go see him.”

Latrice said shortly, “I guess I might as well save my breath. I have never deterred you when it came to a man.”

“No, you haven’t,” Etta said.

Her car sped swiftly along the blacktopped highway. The sun was bright, and even wearing sunglasses she squinted slightly. She had the vents open and the windows down slightly for the breeze. She did not want to arrive with her dress unattractively plastered to her body. Obie had given her careful directions, and she did not have any trouble finding the dirt road turnoff. From there it was a dusty mile east, another half mile south, and then she saw the rock house off to the south. She turned down the rutted drive and drove slowly until she reached the house.

She sat there a moment, her hands dropped between her spraddled legs.

The yard needed mowing, except right near the front door. She rolled down the window and smelled the scent of apples. She thought maybe Johnny would come out.

He didn’t.

Likely he was out back. The thought that he might not be at home caused her already tense spirit to droop.

Getting out, she shook her dress from her sweaty legs, went up and tried the door. It opened. She stepped into an empty living room. It was immediately cooler, the windows closed and shades drawn against the sun on this side of the house. The walls needed painting, but the rock fireplace was really striking.

Curious, she went on through the house, peering into the rooms. She stopped at the door of the bedroom Johnny was obviously using. The windows were wide, letting in fresh air. The walls were newly painted, as was the iron bed. There was only the bed and a dresser in the room. Boots and two stacks of books on the floor. A cotton spread, tan, with stripes of blue and green, covered the bed.

Etta went over and sat on it, put her hand out to smooth over the spread. Then she got up and proceeded on through the kitchen, half newly painted and with a green Formica table and chairs, to the back door.

Through the window in the door, she saw Johnny’s truck and then Johnny out back in a corral. No shirt, his tanned skin glistening beneath the sun, his face shielded by a wide-brimmed hat.

She looked at him for several minutes before she opened the door and stood there.

Johnny saw the horse he was attempting to capture prick his ears and turn to look at the house. Johnny followed the horse’s gaze and saw a woman in the back door of his house.

Etta.

Her hair blew around her head.

Surprised, he blinked and peered harder. Then slowly he took his shirt off the fence post (recalling Latrice yelling at him for the shirtless infraction) and slipped into it as he walked toward the house.

Several feet from the back step, he stopped and looked up at her. He had to smile. “Hello.”

“Hello,” she said, giving only a small smile. “I missed you yesterday when you came by.”

He wasn’t certain what to say. He turned his head and looked away in the distance, before he looked back at her. “I’m glad you came down,” he said.

Then he started up the stoop into the house, and she backed up to allow him entrance. He tossed aside his dusty hat and went to the sink, turned on the water and began to wash. Etta sat at the table.

“It’s very nice, this place,” she said. “The house can be lovely.”

“I need more barn space, more corrals first,” he said. She didn’t reply. He finished washing and turned to face her while he dried off. Her body was more compact than when he had last seen her, but her eyes were as blue and beautiful as ever. He thought of kissing her, but all he could do was stare at her while wanting grew inside him.

Then she was standing and coming toward him with a deliberate light in her eye. “Oh, Johnny,” she said just before she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his.

Johnny knew there was no stopping this time.

He kissed her and kissed her, moved his lips across to her ear and down her throat. She pulled away and took his hand, and he followed her into his bedroom. Jerking her into his arms, he leaned her backward and kissed her some more and ran his hands up and down her back and once over her breasts, enjoying the jump of desire into her eyes. He captured her mouth again and unbuttoned her dress at the same time, while her hands were shoving his shirt from his shoulders.

Their breaths came hot and fast. Johnny pushed her dress off her shoulders but could get it no further. She stepped away and began to remove it herself, and he hurriedly went to work stripping out of his own clothes, all the while watching as her dress fell to the floor, followed by all the rest.

The breath went out of him when he saw her naked body, and all of him that was male stood at attention.

She lay on the bed and lifted her arms to him. He went down on her feeling as if he was dying and going to heaven and singing hosannas.

They breathed each other’s names and kissed and touched and grasped. Johnny felt himself drowning in her scent and warmth and passion. She opened herself completely for him, responding to his every touch with a fire that startled him. He thought he wanted to go slower, but quickly she was whimpering and pleading and pulling at him, and he was covering her with his body.

When he slid into her, Etta lost all cohesive thought. She knew only that she had to have him, had to have all of him. She met him urgently, knowing nothing but the shimmering rise of glorious passion, and reaching the peak, she teetered there in a shaft of pure, bright beauty. Johnny buried his face in her hair and moaned deeply and quivered, and she held him, feeling him flow into her, feeling his body throb and all her heartache fade away.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” Etta said, embarrassed to notice her breasts were leaking milk.

Johnny, his face flushed, wiped the dribble away with his finger. “I guess you’re needin’ to get back to Lattie Kate.”

“Yes.”

Etta raised up to sit on the side of the bed. Johnny came up behind her, lifted her hair and kissed her neck. A lump came in her throat.

Johnny slipped off the bed. She looked at his hard thighs, and the scar on his bad knee. “Here’s your dress,” he said, handing it to her.

“Thank you.”

Etta hugged him after she had gotten dressed, words clogging up inside her. She kept thinking he would speak first, but he picked today to be reticent.

Johnny walked her out to her car. The sun was far to the west, and she would get home just at dark. Her breasts had begun to hurt, and no doubt Lattie Kate would be crying for her.

They stopped at the car door. Johnny bent his head and kissed her softly, dragging his lips away.

She gazed into his silvery eyes, wondering if she should tell him that she loved him. She didn’t want him to feel trapped. She was frightened to bare herself.

“I love you,” she said, quivering and watching his eyes.

“I love you, too.”

The rush of warm light in his eyes made Etta want to cry.

“I want to marry you, Etta. I want you to be my wife.”

“I want to be your wife, Johnny.”

He smiled a crooked smile. “We got that to agree on then, don’t we?”

She nodded, both smiling and tearing up.

He shifted and looked over her head into the distance. She looked up the dirt road.

“I got a good place here, Etta,” he said. She raised her eyes to see him still gazing off into the distance. “I’ve never had anything of my own like this.” Then he looked down at her. She smiled softly and laid a hand on his chest.

“I understand. That’s how it is for me, too.”

Her gaze fell heavily to his shirt. She felt as if her life were draining away.

Johnny took hold of her cheeks, raised her face and kissed her hard and demanding. He pressed her back against the car door, kissing her again and again, as if to take her very soul.

She began to cry.

He pulled away.

“It’s my home,” she said, gazing at him through tears. “My husband died this year, and I’ve had a baby, and I’ve fallen in love . . . and now you want me to up and leave my home. I love you, but I can’t . . . oh God . . . I . . .”

She pressed against the car to keep from throwing herself onto the ground.

Johnny gathered her into his arms. “Shush . . . it’s okay. We don’t have to do anything right now. It’s okay. Oh, don’t cry."

He held her so tightly against his own quivering body that she could hardly breathe. And then she felt her breasts tingle urgently.

“I have to go,” she said, feeling herself getting panicky. She got behind the wheel, and Johnny closed the door after her.

“You okay?” he asked through the open window. His silvery eyes were very dark and concerned. She smiled at him and nodded. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he would come to see her, but she didn’t want him to feel trapped.

He leaned through the window and kissed her softly, then straightened and stepped backward. He didn’t ask her to return.

Etta cast him another look, and then she started the car and drove away down the rutted lane. She looked once in the rearview mirror to see him standing there gazing after her.

Thirty minutes after she had returned home, while she sat rocking Lattie Kate, Johnny telephoned. Etta heard Latrice answer, and instantly she knew it was Johnny.

“I’ll put her on,” Latrice said, then listened again, said, “Okay,” and hung up.

“He just wanted to make certain you got home safe, but he didn’t want to talk. Costs a lot, you know,” she said, as if hoping to make Etta feel better.

“I know,” Etta said.

Gazing down at her peaceful, and now full, sleeping daughter, Etta remembered being in Johnny’s arms and gave thanks. She didn’t want to be ungrateful for all she had.