Читать книгу Kings Row - Henry Bellamann - Страница 10
7
ОглавлениеAfter what seemed an interminable spring season, vacation came at last. Parris and Renée ran nearly all the way home. This afternoon was different, somehow, from other afternoons—it was larger, brighter, gayer. And tomorrow there would be no school. Ahead lay an infinity of days when there would be no school. Immense days, with long, long mornings and longer afternoons. There were ten thousand things to do. The reopening of school was too far away to cast even the faintest shadow on the splendor of these days which were all one’s own to do with as one wished.
The great sweeps of orchard back of the house were in full bloom.
“Let’s go look at the apple trees, Renée. Come on, hurry up.”
“All right,” she answered meekly, matching her step to his as best she could.
He dashed about the orchards like something mad, gathering the low branches into his arms and making loud inhalations as if he tried to breathe them into himself.
“Aren’t they bee-eautiful, Renée? Prettier’n last year.”
“Uh huh,” she replied, dutifully smelling as loud as she could in imitation of his ecstasy.
The months of May and June were rapturously happy. The days were all blue and gold and none of them failed of novelty or excitement. July came in hot and dry.
They walked one afternoon through the groves of young evergreens that stood on the farthest outskirts of the place. Beyond, there was only woods.
It was cool-looking in the long alleys of green and the air smelled good; but it was very hot, and swarms of black gnats buzzed about their faces, making thin, whining sounds like the singing of tiny wires.
They came presently upon a small green pond with spruces and cedars planted in a wide circle about it. The sharp points of the young trees were perfectly mirrored on the still surface.
“Ooh, looky—the pond! We ain’t been here this summer, have we?” Renée ran ahead.
Parris walked slowly about the edge of the pond. A few green frogs hopped from the banks into the water with a loud plunking sound. The wide ripples sent a wave through the reflections, weaving them into fantastic shapes.
“Look, Renée. It’s like a wind in the water.”
Renée looked. “Uh huh,” she said indifferently. She stooped and splashed water with her hand. “It’s warm,” she said.
“Is it? Let me see.” Parris dipped his hand and flung a few drops at her. “It is warm. Warm enough to go in swimming, I guess.”
Without any comment Renée pulled her dress over her head and flung it under the apple tree.
“Unbutton my back, Parris, I can’t reach.” She slipped the buttons of her short muslin drawers which were attached to the waist Parris was unbuttoning. She stepped out of the skimpy garment and waded in.
“Ooh—it’s not so warm on the bottom.” She hunched herself together and shivered.
“You have to go in gradual,” he reminded her. He was out of his clothes now and was dabbling a foot in the shallows. “Feels kind of cool to your feet.”
“Let’s get some blackberries first,” Renée suggested. “Over there by the fence.”
“Ouch,” she exclaimed. “They scratch.”
She examined her wounds. “That one hurts.”
“Put some mud on it,” he recommended.
“Here,” she said. “Here are some big scratches.... We look like Adam and Eve in your picture Bible,” she added casually.
They were used to each other. They had been swimming here for what seemed many, many summers.
“Adam and Eve had leaves on. Don’t you remember, Renée?”
“Uh huh. Let’s get some, and put ’em on.”
“There aren’t any fig leaves.”
“Why do we have to have fig leaves?”
“That’s what Adam and Eve wore.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
“Well, grape leaves’ll do. There’s some on that wild grapevine.”
“Where?”
“Right there on the other side of the fence.”
Parris made a painful crossing of the rail fence.
“Watch out for poison oak—’n snakes!” she warned.
“I am watching out.” He returned presently with a handful of leaves.
“How’ll we put them on?” Renée demanded practically.
Parris looked at them quizzically. “I don’t know.”
“In the pictures they was just stuck on.”
“Well, you can’t do that.”
“Maybe they had glue.”
“Maybe.”
Suddenly he laughed. He punched a hole in a large leaf and affixed it by a simple but not exactly modest device.
Renée laughed very loud. She bent over, crossing her arms on her stomach, and danced with mirth. “Oh, my, that’s funny! But it looks nasty. Anyhow, I can’t do that.”
“Try some mud. Maybe it’ll stick,” he suggested.
They ran laughing to the pond. Parris lost his leaf as he ran into the water.
“Ouch! You’re splashing me. It’s cold.”
The leaves were forgotten, and for an hour they laughed and splashed and shouted in their own little special Eden.
“Let’s get out. I’m getting cold,” Parris suggested.
“All right. I got to dry my hair anyhow so Mama won’t know I’ve been in swimmin’. She’d take a switch to me, I guess.”
“Would she?”
“I ’spect so.”
He thought a minute. “Yes; I guess she would. Here, I’ll help you unbraid it.”
She flung her bright hair about and sat on the grassy bank with hands clasped about her knees. “I’m awful glad we don’t have to go to school.”
“Uh huh, so’m I.”
“Let’s go in swimmin’ again tomorrow.”
“All right.”
“Would your grandma get you if she knew?”
“I don’t know.”
“I guess we’d better not tell anybody.” She nodded her head wisely to the words.
“No; I guess we’d better not.”
Of course she was a girl and he was a boy, and, somehow, that made a difference. That, too, they understood somewhat. Other children at school, older children, had furnished a good deal of enlightenment during the past two years. It was all sort of curious, but not especially interesting. They had believed all of these stories at once—they seemed reasonable stories, but that was all there was to it. It had nothing to do with them.
Renée talked about these subjects last summer. She pointed at her navel—she called it her “belly button”—and said: “When you get a baby it comes out right here.”
Parris nodded. He thought she was mistaken, but it didn’t make any difference. They said no more about it.
She swished her hair from side to side to dry it quickly. Parris decided she was a very pretty girl—prettier than anybody—prettier, even, than Cassandra Tower. Of course he’d never seen Cassie with her clothes off. Funny how much prettier Renée was when she was naked. He thought it might be because she didn’t have very nice clothes.
He liked Renée. Better than any girl—or boy, either. “You’re my best friend, Renée,” he said impulsively.
She turned her wide blue eyes slowly. A pleased look parted her lips—the inside of her mouth was stained almost purple from the blackberries.
“Am I? Honestly?”
“Yes, you are. I like you better’n anybody.”
“You’re my best friend, too. I like you best of anybody—exceptin’ of course Papa and Mama,” she said contentedly. “C’mon, let’s put on our clothes! It’s getting late.”
They dressed hurriedly, and went slowly homeward, talking a little—drifting carelessly in their walk.
