Delta Girls by Gayle Brandeis Read Free Book Online

and looked at me.” Her heart raced against my side.
    “Just tell yourself that when you fall back to sleep, you won’t dream about it again.” I could feel sleep tugging at me, wanting to pull me back under.
    “You never believe me.” Quinn’s words sent a shock through my chest. I wanted to tell her that wasn’t true, that she was the only thing I believed, the only thing I believed in, but then sleep closed over me again and sealed me away.
    I WOKE WHEN something brushed against the back of my leg. Something bigger than Quinn, who was sound asleep on my other side, wedged between me and the wall. Something hairy. It burrowed in closer, pressed against my back, leaking heat. Was this the monster Quinn had warned me about?
    I sat up screaming. So did Quinn. So did the strange man in our bed.
    “What the hell?” He jumped out and turned on the overhead light. He was just wearing striped boxers, his legs and chestfurred. His hair flopped onto his olive-skinned face; a soul patch sprouted below his lower lip.
    “Get out of here, you pervert!” I yelled, kicking at the sheets, my voice both higher and raspier than I thought it could get.
    “Wait a second,” said the man. “Who the fuck are you?”
    “Who the fuck are
you?”
I shouted. Quinn clung to me, shaking.
    “This is my boat.” The guy looked more puzzled than dangerous.
    “No it’s not,” said Quinn into my shoulder. “It’s Mr. Vieira’s boat.”
    “I’m Mr. Vieira,” he said.
    “No you’re not,” said Quinn. I tried to shush her as I pulled the sheet back up over my nightgown, knees drawn to my chest, pulse still pounding in my ears. I looked at his bushy eyebrows, his generous nose. Relief flooded in.
    “You must be the son.” My voice had almost fallen back into its normal register.
    “Benjamim Vieira.” He held out his hand.
Ben-ha-meem
. He looked exhausted. “Ben.”
    “Izzy.” His hand was damp but firm when I shook it. My leg prickled where his leg had brushed against it. “And my daughter, Quinn. We’re helping at the orchard.”
    “I’m sure it’s appreciated.” He pulled his pants back on, tugged a shirt over his head.
    I could feel my cheeks flush. Watching him zip up his fly somehow felt more intimate than seeing him in his underwear.
    “I guess I’ll head over to the house, then,” he said. “Didn’t want to scare the folks—they weren’t expecting me for another week. Sorry I scared you instead. I honestly had no idea you were there—I was so tired; I just thought the sheets were bunched up.”
    “At least you’re not a monster,” said Quinn.
    “I try not to be.” Ben picked up his backpack.
    ———
    “SO YOU MET my son,” Mr. Vieira said as we unhooked more bottles from the tree the next morning. I felt my face get hot again. “Scared the hell out of my wife last night. She wakes if she hears a pear drop—thought someone was breaking in.”
    “He gave us a pretty good scare, too.” I looked at a pear inside one of the bottles. It had grown against the glass; one side of the fruit was completely flat. No one would buy it for eighty dollars.
    “Didn’t mean nothing by it,” said Mr. Vieira. “He just wanted to come down for the
festa.”
    I handed Quinn a bottle, which she placed carefully in a section of the wooden crate. She looked serious, nervous. A couple of wasps started to buzz around the bottles and she jumped back, almost knocking the crate over. She hadn’t mentioned the monster or Ben’s visit all day, but I could tell both were weighing on her.
    “Say”—Mr. Vieira reached for another bottle, carefully untying it from the branch—“why don’t you come to the
festa
with us? Get out a little. It would be good for the girl to have some
sopa.”
    I had no idea what a
festa
was, or a
sopa
. He spread out his arms and said, “Nine thousand pounds of beef!” and I was even more confused.
    “Is it a big crowd?” Maybe it would be better to just stay in the orchard, on the