Heading Out to Wonderful by Robert Goolrick Read Free Book Online Page B

asked her again.”
    Charlie never looked at Sylvan the whole time Alma was talking. He just took it all in. From his first sight of her, that day in the butcher shop, she had burned herself into his mind, vivid and beautiful, the effect she had on most men, and women, too.
    “It’s a paradise out there in Arnold’s Valley,” Alma said. “Tended. Cared for. They have nothing, no money, no education—no regular morals, a lot of people say although I don’t believe it—nothing except for their land. They don’t know anything about what’s going on in the world. They only care about their place, farm after farm. They never leave it. Maybe it’s religion. Maybe they’re just private people. The only things Sylvan knows, she’s gotten from the radio, and, in the last three years, at the movies.”
    “She’s beautiful,” Charlie said as he stole a glance over to where Harrison was laughing loudly while Sylvan stood silently by his side.
    “Don’t say that too loud,” said Will. “Boaty Glass’ll cut your ear off quick as that. He was a good boy, my best friend, but he’s a mean man now with a lot of money and a quick temper and a nasty disposition.”
    Charlie stood up. “Sam, let’s go say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Glass.” He took the boy by the hand, and they walked over to where the couple stood and Charlie shyly shook Boaty’s hand. Then Sam shook Boaty’s hand, too.
    Sylvan turned to him, took off her sunglasses so her green eyes flashed in the sun, and she, too, shook both of their hands, first the boy’s, then Charlie’s, without a word. But you could tell the way Charlie let his hand hang just for the moment in the air where her hand had been that something, some word of recognition, had passed between them. It was as though whatever was going to happen between them had already happened, was already over and done with.
    If it had been winter, there might have been a static spark, something visible, but it was too warm. Something had been said, but she was the only one who knew what it was.
    Charlie let his hand drift in the air for a moment, a long moment, watching the last of her gaze as her sunglasses went back on, and then he put his hand in his pocket, holding on to the warmth of her brief touch. Then he nodded, first at her, then at her husband, and he and the boy returned to their places.
    “She smells nice, Mama,” said the boy. “Like she cost a lot of money.”
    It was late afternoon, the second time he saw her. But twice was enough. Something had been said. The movie had started.
    They didn’t stay long. Harrison Glass and his wife stayed no more than an hour, Boaty eating a helping of everything, telling dirty jokes to red-faced Baptist men, laughing while the food dribbled down his chin, sweating like a pig, Sylvan nodding charmingly to everyone, but hardly speaking, staring off somewhere, one, two, glances in Charlie’s direction, no more. Her vague green eyes sparking into sudden sharp focus at the sight of his face, seemingly random glances, once, twice, a third time as her husband shut the car door for her. No more than that, but that was enough.
    After they left there was some more eating, and a little dancing—although ordinarily the church didn’t much approve of it—until the shadows were long on the makeshift ball field and all the children were tired and the smell of cooking oil was thick in everybody’s clothes and all the oysters were gone.
    THE TWILIGHT BEGAN to fall and then to fade, and Christmas lights out of somebody’s attic were turned on, but the children were arguing, and Ray Turner drove the Gadsden twins home to their big house, the biggest in town, because they didn’t drive and he was a good, careful boy. People began to leave after that, and the Baptist men and women began to clean up whatever the animals could get at, leaving the rest for tomorrow.
    Charlie waved to the Haisletts and got into his truck and drove out to his land by the river, the