Delia Page 2

  “There, no one can see your tears now.” The tears came, and not slowly. After a few moments, there was a large and growing circle of Delia’s tears on Don’s plaid button-down shirt. But he clearly didn’t mind. His arms kept her held tightly against him as the ropes were pulled up from her mother’s lowered casket. Soon her father would make his way down into the ground as well. Delia eventually regained control of her breathing, and as the tears stopped coming she was able to turn away from Don and look back to the plot where her father was being laid to rest.

  She felt great anger towards him, but more than that confusion warred in her heart. She did not understand why everything would have been so bad without the farm. Her mother had always said, “Home is where the heart is,” and Delia felt like they could have gone anywhere as long as they were together. Then her father had to go and ruin it. She remembered seeing her mother on the floor in the living room and suddenly the images from that night overwhelmed her. Her mother’s gray, lifeless face and the puddle of blood that surrounded her were all that she could see. The emotions were coming back up, and Delia felt more tears forming.

  Then a warm hand took hers. It was not Don’s. He was still standing on one side of her with his arm around her back. The new hand was soft and little. Standing at her side was her cousin Lilly, Uncle Don and Aunt Deb’s daughter. Delia supposed that she would be more like her sister now. Lilly was only five, and she looked up at Delia quietly with sparkling blue eyes and a soft smile. There was something irresistible about Lilly and Delia returned the smile. She stood like that, just looking at Lilly’s perfect little face while they finished lowering her father into the ground. She would not go look over the edge of the grave. She would not throw a shovelful of dirt. Instead, as the priest closed his bible and dismissed the mourners, Delia walked hand in hand with Lilly back to the truck. They did not speak, but a connection had been formed between Delia and the small girl.

  They sat together in the bed of the old pickup as Don drove them home. When they returned to the house, Aunt Deb pulled her aside. “There are going to be some people coming over, all right? We’ll have lunch, and then you can be dismissed if you’d like.”

  Delia nodded her understanding. “They’re all going to want to talk to you, ya know. It would be nice if you could speak to them.”

  Delia said nothing in response. She went up to her shared bedroom to put on a more comfortable dress. The black one she had been squeezed into was from her grandmother’s wake and funeral last year and was quite small. She pulled on a very simple cloth dress over her pale flesh and sat in the room to wait until she was called downstairs. The room was small for two girls, but she felt safer than she would have if she had been alone. She had only been in the house three days but she had woken up with nightmares on each night.

  The bedroom floor was a smooth wood and she brushed her fingernails back and forth against it. Then she heard steps on the porch outside and voices from beyond the window. She looked out the bedroom window to see a small procession of people coming up to the house. She sighed deeply and cinched the cloth belt around her waist. Then she made her way through the house to where people she had met at one time or another, but barely knew, were waiting to see her. Everyone wanted to look at the girl whose father tried to kill her. She could hear their whispers everywhere she went in the house. They were whispering about her.

  She could not take it for long, and wandered out into the yard where Lilly was pushing herself on the little swing set. The quiet was refreshing outside. Delia sat next to Lilly on a swing. Lilly held out her hand again for Delia. Delia smiled at her and took the offered hand. Then Lilly spoke to her.

  “You’re going to be my best friend now, Delia.” That was all she said. Then she released Delia’s hand and went back to pumping her little legs on the swing.

  Everything was different after that. Delia was the same, but changed. She didn’t feel things the way she used to. Games of childish play no longer held the pleasure they once did. She was saddened, but didn’t seem to experience the sorrow as she should. It was as if her father, in the wake of his death, had flipped a switch within her and somehow turned her off. The best she could liken it to was when one of her body parts fell asleep. She could still feel it there, her emotional self, but it was deadened. She hadn’t really made the decision to close herself off to her feelings, but it happened anyway. It was a strange new existence, but as children do, she adapted.

  *****

  The weekend of mourning ended and Delia had to return to school. It did not last long for Delia. Three school days passed with her sitting silently, refusing to speak to her teachers before they deemed her “excused” for the year. After all, there were only two weeks left anyway. The school principal did have some opinions on Delia that he shared with Aunt Deb.

  “Sure she’s been through it,” he said, “but the girl needs to be disciplined. Give her a good tanning and she’ll snap right out of this.”

  Delia was sitting in the corner of the room while this conversation took place. She heard everything, of course, but then she thought she began to hear something else. It began like a far off whisper that grew closer to her. As the principal spoke, his fat red face working out his judgments against her, the whispers became louder in Delia’s ears, until it felt like she had a conch shell pressed to her head, listening to the sound of the ocean. Delia looked around the room for the source of the sound, but none presented itself. The sound made it difficult for her to concentrate on what the principal was saying, though she could still hear his snide remarks.

  He told Aunt Deb that she needed to figure out something before the next school year or Delia was not going to be allowed back. Aunt Deb nodded and said, “That’s fine.” She did not scold Delia, nor did she look angry with her.

  As Deb led her out of the building, the whispering subsided in her ears and was replaced by the quiet of the countryside. Deb drove her back to the house in Don’s truck. Her aunt was silent for most of the ride, but as they pulled up to the house, she spoke.

  “I saw someone die once.”

  Delia looked up at her in surprise.

  “It was a boy I knew when I was little, my first boyfriend, I guess. We played in the woods often, just doing as kids will do. One day we were climbing trees. He climbed much farther than I could, much farther than I ever would. I do not know how high it was, because as a child I wasn’t thinking of distance as I do now.” She paused to glance at Delia. “The small branch he was clinging to broke when he started to climb down. He fell straight through to the ground and landed on his head. I remember how his head was bent completely sideways. His neck was purple and bulged out strangely.”

  She looked over at Delia and stopped the truck.

  “It was awful. I had nightmares for many days. I know you will heal from this, and I know that it will be very difficult. I don’t know if we can help you, but we will try.”

  Delia nodded to her.

  “Keep up on your chores and help with the cooking and things will be fine, okay?” Deb patted her on the leg.

  This short conversation was the most they had spoken since Delia arrived, and in fact, ever. She suspected Deb was in a little bit of shock as well. Lilly was napping when they returned to the house, and since she was Delia’s only real company besides Deb, she decided to wander the grounds. She knew the area well, since she grew up just on the other side of the field, but there were still new places she could explore. She walked up to the edge of the wheat field, letting her outstretched hand brush along the warm stalks as she did. Suddenly she wanted to be in the field and she ducked into the rows of wheat and disappeared from view.

  Once in the field she began walking more quickly. She walked in the direction of her old house. She brushed wheat from her face as she walked and soon her feet began to move faster and she was running. She ran and then ran faster, and she remembered that night running from her father. Now she ran from the emptiness she felt inside. She ran as hard
as she could, she ran until her lungs were bursting, and tears began to roll down her face.

  “Father!” she screamed out into the wind. “Father!”

  No sooner had she screamed than she fell out of the field and into her old yard. She fell onto her knees and let herself cry. The tears came streaming down her face and her breathing was hitching in her chest, then giant sobs barked out of her throat. She could not stop crying and she could not move away. Eventually, she lay down on the grass. Her bawling turned to soft sobs and after a while stopped altogether. Her weary mind demanded rest, so Delia slept on the lawn.

  Her father came to her in a dream.

  Delia opened her eyes. Her nostrils were filled with the rich smell of grass and the earth beneath it. She raised her head and saw him, walking toward her from the house. He was smiling.

  “Dee,” he said, using his own special little name for her.

  “Father!” she cried, and rose from the grass to meet him. He walked to where she was laying as she got up. Delia ran up as if to throw her arms around him, then stopped.

  “Father, is mother here also?”

  “No, dear. Mother is in heaven where she belongs.”

  Delia’s face dropped just a little.

  “What about you? Where are you?”

  Her father smiled a sad smile. “I am nowhere. I am caught in the in-between. I will be here for some time.”

  “Why father? Why did you do this to me?” Her face was growing warm with an angry flush. She knew tears would not be far behind. “I’m all alone now!”

  John’s ghostly head was bowed down in shame. “I am sorry Dee. I lost all sense of what I was supposed to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was supposed to be a good husband and a good father, no matter what. I failed. I was weak Delia. You can never be weak in this life, or it will destroy you.”

  “It was those bankers’ fault, wasn’t it father?” Tears were dripping from her face.

  Her father wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. It was so good to feel his warm body and the rough skin of his hands on the back of her neck as they embraced.

  After a moment, her father held her at arm’s length and stroked the side of her face. “It was my fault Delia. You can never be like me. I did all the wrong things. I didn’t use my head to think about things. I followed dreams instead of smarts.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I didn’t do what was necessary to take care of my family, and now I’ve lost everything. Now-I’ve taken everything from you.”

  “I don’t know if I understand, father.”

  “You can’t always follow your dreams, sometimes you have to listen to your head more than your heart. Delia, you have to be the best at everything you do, it’s the only way to make it in the world.”

  Delia nodded meekly at his words.

  Her father released her face and took a step back from her. “I love you Dee. You have to get out of here. Get away from the farm. Those city folks have it good. Don’t blame the bankers for what happened to us, I should have tried to be more like them all along.”

  She was so confused. This did not sound like what her mother had always told her.

  “Will you ever come back here?”

  “I think I must,” replied her father.

  “Then I will be able to visit you sometimes?”

  “I don’t know that. I have to go for now.”

  “But I don’t want you to go, father.

  “I am sorry Dee; it’s time for you to wake up now.”

  She reached out to him and held his calloused hand in hers. He was still smiling softly at her, but his pale blue eyes were sad and seemed far away.

  Chapter Three

  The sound of loud machinery woke her, so Delia peeled her face off the lawn. The grass she was sleeping on was slightly damp and stuck to her cheek. She looked up toward the sound she heard. A large tractor was pulling up to the side of the field; it was pulling a harvest combine behind it. Delia was confused for a moment. Who would be trying to harvest her field? This was her family’s wheat.

  She started gesturing angrily at the man driving the tractor. She waved her arms back and forth but he could not see her. Finally, she decided to run up to him. When she got right up alongside the tractor, he noticed her and startled. He slowed the tractor’s progress and Delia pointed to the field and shook her head vehemently. The man looked over his shoulder and pointed behind him. With that, he geared up the tractor once more and started the harvester.

  Delia looked behind her where the man had pointed and saw that a black sedan was parked there, on the lawn. A short round man wearing fancy clothing stepped out. He looked like he was dressed for church in a big city.

  “What are you doing here, miss?” he said abruptly, walking toward her.

  Delia just glared at him and pointed toward the house. Realization dawned on the man’s face.

  “Oh, yes, you’re the little girl who lived here. I see.” The man sighed. “This isn’t your house anymore; this is the bank’s house now. I’m sorry, dear.”

  He did not look sorry to Delia. In fact, he actually looked happy. She pointed out to the field.

  “Your father owed us a great deal of money. We are taking the house and the harvest as payment for his debt. Do not bother that man again. He’s only doing his job.”

  The man was only a few feet from Delia now and her head was starting to fill with a strange swishing sound. On the other hand, maybe it was a whirring. She could not place its origin and the tractor had a loud clanging rattle to it. As the man got closer, she started to hear whispering. It was just like when she had been in the principal’s office with Aunt Deb. He was within reaching distance of her now and the whispering was loud in her ears. It didn’t seem to have any real words, just air rushing around in her head.

  The man looked Delia up and down closely. He was standing very close and she could smell his cologne, which smelled like alcohol. She was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

  “I’ll tell you what, dear, you get in the car with me, and I’ll bring you back to where you belong.” The man smiled brightly and reached out for her arm.

  Delia reflexively jerked away from him.

  “Come on now, come here,” he said sweetly. “I just want to give you a ride. I know this must be tough for you.”

  The whispering in her ears was becoming more urgent and suddenly the man lunged for her. He clamped a meaty red hand over her arm and pulled against her. She immediately bit him, sinking her teeth as far as she could into the flesh of his hand. He screamed and released her arm, then tried to grab her hair.

  Delia was already in the wheat field, running again. She ran until the buzzing in her head quieted into a soft whisper, then into nothing at all. She did not know in what direction she had run, but there was a tree thirty or forty yards off to her left. She would climb it and get her bearings. As she reached the base of the gnarled old cherry with few leaves and craggy limbs, a small voice called out to her.

  “Where did you come from?"

  Delia jumped and looked up into the tree. That was the first time she ever saw him, a black-haired boy with no shirt and a dark tan. He smiled from a tree branch a few feet above her.

  “I’m Francis, what’s your name?"

  Delia slumped down to the ground and leaned her back against the tree. She took deep heavy breaths and tried to compose herself. Her heart had already been beating madly as she ran, and then the boy had startled her. She did not want him to see that she had been frightened, though. After a few breaths, she was able to calm herself. The boy swung down from the tree and stood in front of her. His body was thin and muscular, like Delia’s. Delia thought his parents must make him work the fields like she had to. Francis had a long white scar that ran from beneath his waistband and up toward his ribs.

  "Sorry I startled you." He offered up a smile. Delia saw that he was missing a tooth, a sure sign that he was her age or a little younger. "I saw you runni
ng in the field. Where did you come from?" He looked at her curiously for a moment when she did not answer. "Did you come from the house over there?"

  Delia raised her eyebrows a moment then looked down at her dirty knees.

  "It looked like someone was chasing you."

  Delia nodded.

  "Do you want to climb my tree? It’s safe up there."

  Delia thought of Aunt Deb's story about her friend dying climbing a tree. Then she stood and started to climb. She had only gotten up six or seven feet when she realized the boy was still on the ground. He was staring up at her and she did not know why for a moment. Then she realized he was looking up her skirt. She had not worn breeches today, so there was only a little underwear covering up her feminine parts. She broke a heavy chunk of bark off the tree and threw it down at him. He was so distracted by the forbidden fruits between her legs that he did not even notice until the heavy bark smacked into his nose.

  "Aw, come on! You didn't have to do that!" He was snorting and rubbing his nose.

  This elicited an involuntary smile from Delia.

  "Sorry," he begrudgingly mumbled.

  She climbed a little higher, not caring if he looked, then wedged herself into the crook of two branches. The boy climbed up next to her. He shimmied a little farther out onto the branch and they sat silently together in the protection of the large tree. From this vantage point, Delia could see the combine out in the field. She watched as it cut a steady twenty-foot path out of the wheat.

  Down the length of the field it went – almost out of sight before it hit the end and turned around to start the long journey back. Delia knew the harvest would take two days. The field was like an ocean of golden stalks, and as she watched the combine tear down what her father had sown, a tear welled up in one eye and rolled over her cheek. She quickly batted it away. The boy had seen. She hoped he wouldn’t say anything, and for a while, he didn’t. After watching the combine for nearly an hour, Delia's butt and thighs were getting sore against the rough tree bark. She was preparing to make her way down when the boy spoke.