He walked alone as if without a destination outside the four-foot brick wall, the sidewalk uneven, a few dandelions here and there in the cracks. When he reached the man-gate, he called to the girl on the swing beneath a great limb of an oak.
“Becca!” he called in a harsh whisper. “Let me in.
Becca!”
The girl in question looked away as if to study the clouds.
“Becca!”
She stood up and made a show of smoothing the front of
her white cotton dress. She came across the yard as if she were lost in her own
thoughts, and when she stopped a few feet from the gate, she gave him a sharp
look.
“Hush, Daddy’s on the porch.”
“Thrown out again?” He smiled and then wrapped his fingers
around two bars of the iron gate.
“He is smoking his morning cigar.”
“Out with the dogs. Again.” He snorted.
“Shouldn’t you be reporting to school?”
“Upper classmen don’t report until Sunday at 4:00.” She
looked down for a moment. “Becca. Becca! Let me in. We could walk down by the
barn.”
“The barn. Oh, yes, that would be a pleasant
walk—strolling down to the barn.”
“Well you liked it well enough last week.” He tightened
his grip on the bars. “Becca!”
She moved just a bit closer to the gate. “I don’t think
that suits me today.”
“That is your mother talking.”
For a moment she fingered the locket worn just below her
throat. She tipped her head to one side and studied his face. “No. No, I don’t
think so.”
He shook the bars a bit, just enough for her to hear the
slight rattle of the hinges. “Becca” he pleaded.
“No.”
“You, you are an insufferable girl.”
“Well, the last time you came calling, I was a, a
beautiful young woman, I was a—what did you say—you said I was like a fawn.”
“You are like a fawn. But you make me suffer too. You
could at least do me one small favor.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please.”
“One, and make it very, very small.”
“If you would take two steps back, please. Please. Yes,
and now maybe two steps to the right. Perfect.”
She shrugged her bare shoulders. “Now what would you have
me do?”
“Nothing. Just let me look at you. The sunlight is perfect
behind you in that dress. I can see—“
“Jefferson Allen Tate, you are a monster! You are horrible!” She rushed forward and locked her hands on
the gate just below his. “You are a cad!”
“A cad? Who uses such a word.” He laughed. “You sound
like Miss Ginny.”
“You would do well to spend some time with Miss Ginny.”
His hands slipped over hers. “Your eyes have gotten
darker, Becca.” He lowered his voice. “Open the gate, Becca. Please.”
“No.”
He rested his forehead on the gate. “Mmmm, you smell nice.”
“No.”
“Just for a little bit, a few minutes.”
“No.”
He dropped his hands. “Well at least walk with me down to
the park.”
“No. I have some things to do for Mother.”
“Later, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“This evening. You could meet me here. At half past eight.”
“In the dark?”
“Yes.” He reached up and took hold of her hands and
squeezed them. “Say yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know. Becca. You will meet me?”
She pulled her hands away. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I will be here. I will be here every night.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I will.”
“Rebecca!” Her father’s voice from the front of the house
called.
“I have to go.” She half-turned.
“Then you will let me in later?”
“I don’t know.” She started toward the house.
“Becca, wait! Becca! Becca! Marry me!”
She looked back over her shoulder and shook her head. He
looked for her smile, but it did not come. Ladson 2013
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