Many Waters Page 8

  Chapter Six - Lisa

  Ore City is a small enough place, but Avinger is even smaller, with nothing much there but a gas station and a little country school so tiny it doesn’t even have a football team. In Texas, that’s almost a crime. The McGraths lived several miles even farther out, way out in the country, and if Cody hadn’t told me how to find the place I’m pretty sure me and Jenny never would have found it on our own. I’d never been out there before, and all I knew about the Goliad Ranch was what Cody had told me. It’s bordered on the east by Black Cypress Bayou, but that’s the only boundary I’ve ever understood well enough to remember.

  It wasn’t too long before we found the gravel road, and then the white wood rail fence that Cody had said to look for. That’s when I first realized how much land a thousand acres really is; that fence seemed like it stretched along the road forever before we finally got to the gate, and there was no telling how far it went on the other side. Cody had mentioned that the road dead-ended at the river eventually, where there was a sandy beach and a swimming hole, but I wasn’t sure how much farther that was.

  The gate itself was made of wooden posts painted white like the rails, with black letters in an arch across the top that said Goliad. When we got there, Cody was up front hammering at part of the fence. It looked like one of the rails might have come loose, but I couldn’t tell exactly. He was wearing a plain old white t-shirt, grubby with sawdust and dirt and soaked in sweat from the heat.

  “See you later, Jen,” I said, waving to her as I got out of the car and shut the door. Then I walked up the graveled drive to where Cody was standing.

  “Hey, Lisa. You’re here early,” he said, looking up to smile at me. He had three sixteen-penny nails in his mouth, which made his words come out a little garbled, but I understood him well enough.

  He smelled like a boar hog from working, but I pretended not to notice. Mama had drummed it into my head for years that a gracious and well-mannered young lady should never say or do anything which might embarrass another person or hurt their feelings. And besides that, I knew I’d caught him off guard. No doubt he would have gone in to clean up before I got there if he’d known I was coming.

  “Yeah, it was the only time Jenny could bring me. I’m sorry I interrupted you; I didn’t know you’d be busy,” I apologized.

  “Nah, it’s all good. Just let me finish this little bit of rail right quick, and then we’ll go inside for some iced tea. What do you say?” he asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” I said.

  “Okay. I’ll be done in just a sec,” he said. He took off his white straw hat, wiping the sweat from his forehead and scratching his buzzed-off hair, frowning just a little. Then he seemed to have a change of heart.

  “You know what, I think the fence can hold off awhile. Let’s go on in,” he said, setting down his hammer and nails.

  He offered me his arm, very gentleman-like, and in spite of his sweatiness I smiled and took it without so much as a second glance at how grimy it was. That was another thing I liked about Cody; he’s so courtly without being a snob about it.

  The house was a big old white Victorian-looking thing, with two stories and a verandah that wrapped all the way around. The driveway was edged on both sides with bright yellow rose bushes, most of them in full bloom. I noticed they were the scentless kind, no doubt to keep from attracting bees and wasps.

  “Mama loves roses,” Cody commented when we were about halfway up the drive.

  “Yeah, I can tell. She must spend all her time weeding,” I said.

  “Well, no, not really. They’re pretty tough little boogers,” he said.

  “Why so much yellow, though?” I asked, and he laughed.

  “Oh, Lisa, please don’t get her started on that. She’ll tell you everything from how they’re a symbol of joy and freedom to how they’re a memorial of the Texas Revolution, and everything else in between. Believe me, I’ve heard it all a thousand times. She could go on about those roses all day,” he said. I could tell he wasn’t really complaining, though; he had a tolerant smile on his face.

  Right in front of the steps, the driveway curved into a circle around one of the hugest pecan trees I’d ever seen, and Cody’s old Chevy was parked at a rakish angle underneath its spreading branches. It was still hot even in the shade, and when we got to the verandah he opened the front door to usher me inside where it was cool. When my eyes adjusted, I saw that most of the house was done in polished hardwood and rough timber, which I thought was pretty even though it made things a little bit dark inside. There was a red-brick fireplace, and lots of photographs. It was nice, but nothing too fancy. Goliad was a working ranch, not one of those fake little ranchette things people build so they can say they’ve got a taste of the country.

  His mother was washing dishes at the sink when we entered the kitchen, with her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail. She was singing something to herself, but I couldn’t tell for sure what it was over the sound of running water. It sounded like Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.

  “Hey, Mama. Lisa’s here; she got dropped off a little early,” he said. She turned around with a smile, drying the soap suds from her hands before she gave me a hug.

  “I’m so glad to finally get to meet you, Lisa. Cody talks about you all the time,” she declared.

  “He does?” I asked, absurdly pleased with that idea.

  “He surely does,” she said.

  “Aw, Mama, hush,” he said. But she only laughed.

  “Did you get the fence fixed, son?” she asked, turning to look at him.

  “No, ma’am, not quite. I think it’ll hold up till tomorrow, though. I didn’t want to be working while we had company,” he explained, and she nodded like that was the most obvious thing in the world.

  “Of course not. Can I get y’all some sweet tea or maybe some lemonade?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I’d love some tea, if it’s not too much trouble,” I said.

  “No trouble at all,” she said, and busied herself filling two glass tumblers with ice and then pouring the tea. Cody drank his whole glass in one long pull, but then I figured he was probably dying of thirst after being out in the hot sun for so long. I only sipped mine because I wasn’t all that thirsty, but I did want to savor it. It tasted like homemade sun tea, the really good stuff you make by leaving it outside in a big one-gallon pickle jar to slow-brew in the sunshine. It must not have been ready for long, because it was still lukewarm when I took my first sip. That was all right, though; it wouldn’t take long for the ice to cool it down.

  “Thanks, Mama,” Cody said when he finished the glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his sweaty hand. Then he poured himself a second glass and drank most of that one, too.

  “Yes, thank you, Mrs. McGrath,” I echoed.

  “Now, honey, the only people who call me Mrs. McGrath are bill collectors and strangers. Call me Josie,” she said.

  “Thanks, Miss Josie,” I said.

  “You’re surely welcome. Now y’all run along and let me finish this kitchen while I can. There’s more tea in the icebox if you want some,” she said. My glass was still almost full, but Cody took her up on the offer and refilled his for a third time.

  “If you’ll excuse me just a minute, ladies, I’ll be right back,” he said, ducking out of the kitchen.

  It wasn’t long before he came back, looking much fresher than when he left. He’d washed off as much sweat as he could in such a short amount of time; his ears were still wet from where he’d splashed his face and been in too much of a hurry to dry off completely. He had on a clean black t-shirt that read Cowboy for Life across the front, and I noticed that he’d even put on cologne; something that reminded me vaguely of Old Spice, even though I was pretty sure that wasn’t what it was.

  Miss Josie shooed both of us out of the kitchen as soon as he got back, and he led me outside again, through the back door this tim
e.

  “Where are we going?” I asked when we got outside.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” he said, sounding very mysterious.

  I noticed there were more roses in the back yard, not all of them yellow, and a picnic table beside an outdoor grill. Something must have been cooking, because there was smoke coming out of it. Whatever it was, it smelled delectable.

  Cody didn’t stop in the yard, though. He opened a gate in the fence and led me across a wide pasture that sloped down to a lake. There was fresh horse manure here and there and a half-full hay feeder next to the barn, but no horses to be seen. I guessed it was Buck’s pen, but maybe he was staying inside out of the heat. I couldn’t blame him.

  “It’s real pretty out here in the springtime, believe it or not. The whole pasture is full of bluebonnets, as far as you can see,” Cody commented, kind of apologetically.

  Maybe so, but you never would have guessed it by looking. There was nothing there now except a little bit of wispy dead grass, and the dirt was so dry it had cracked open in spots. The whole place looked deader than the surface of Mercury.

  I think it was hotter than the surface of Mercury, too. I could feel sweat popping up on my skin after the first few seconds, and I was sure Cody’s black shirt was soaking up the heat like a beach towel. But thankfully, we soon came to a shady grove of pecan trees at the edge of the lake, and I was glad when we got up under the canopy and out of the sun.

  The lake was a little bit low from the drought, but not by much. There was a gazebo beside the water with a porch swing hung from the center of it, and I guessed that’s where we were headed. Turned out I was right.

  Cody sat down on the swing, and I joined him. There was a breeze coming in off the lake, which was a blessing of epic proportions by itself. On the far shore I could see what looked like a peach orchard on a rise that sloped upwards to a steep hill covered in pine trees, which I guessed was Mount Nebo. It was a pretty view.

  “I like your mama,” I finally said.

  “Yeah, she’s somethin’ else, I tell you,” he agreed, but I could hear the love in his voice when he said it.

  “Has it always been just you and her?” I asked.

  “Mostly. Daddy passed away when I was six years old, and she never dated or anything after that,” he explained.

  “I wonder why. She’s still a fairly young woman, and she’s so pretty and nice, it’s a wonder the men didn’t beat the doors down,” I said.

  “Aw, they did, believe me,” he chuckled.

  “So how come she never. . . “ I asked, leaving the thought trailing.

  “Well, it’s a long story. They got together in junior high, you know, and neither one of them ever went with anybody else. She always says Daddy was the love of her life, and no other man could ever take his place. Life is short, but love is forever,” he said.

  He said that last part like he might be quoting somebody else, but he also had the kind of expression on his face that a man only has when he’s speaking about something he believes with his whole heart and holds so dear that to give it up he’d have to unmake himself. He might ostensibly be talking about his mother, but I suspected I might have touched something deep in his own soul, too.

  “Is that what you think, too?” I asked, curious. He didn’t answer me right away, maybe considering how much he wanted to say, or maybe just choosing his words carefully.

  “Yeah, deep down I guess I do. I want my one and only, someday,” he finally said in an offhanded kind of way, looking down and rattling the ice in his glass.

  “Really?” I asked, enthralled, and I saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.

  “Yeah, if it ever happens. I have my doubts about that sometimes,” he said cryptically. It seemed like an odd thing to say, and for once I indulged my curiosity.

  “How come? I bet half the girls in the county would love to get their hands on you,” I asked. I said it jokingly, even though the question was a serious one. But Cody only laughed.

  “Do you, now?” he asked, amused.

  “Yeah, I really do,” I agreed.

  “Hmm. . . well, I don’t know. Maybe I never found the right one, yet. I’ve been out with a few girls now and then. Even kissed a few. But that’s as far as it ever went. Never anything serious,” he said, gazing out across the lake.

  “Really?” I asked again, still finding it hard to believe. But he only laughed again.

  “Yeah, really and truly. I’ve got my reasons, though,” he said softly, and I didn’t push him any more even though I was dying of curiosity. I was afraid he might clam up again. He rarely talked about things like that or showed his heart so openly, and I wished we could have a thousand talks like that.

  “I want my one and only someday, too,” I confessed, hoping I wasn’t going too far.

  “Yeah, I can tell. I read some Christopher Marlowe this morning,” he admitted.

  “No way,” I said.

  “Yeah. I was curious, after you mentioned him yesterday,” he said, and it touched me that he cared enough to do such a thing.

  “Which one did you read?” I asked.

  “I don’t know the name of it. Started out with ‘Come live with me and be my love’,” he said.

  “Oh. Yeah, I love that one. What did you think of it?” I asked, and again he took a while to answer, perhaps thinking.

  “Sorrowful,” he finally said, succinctly, surprising me. Sorrowful wasn’t a word I normally would have picked to describe that particular poem, and I wondered if there was some private reason why it might have affected him that way. He was such a riddle sometimes.

  “Not too many guys like poetry. Not even a little bit,” I said, choosing once again not to push him too hard. He’d tell me when he got ready, if it was anything I needed to know.

  “Well, now, I’m not your typical guy, am I?” he asked, with another one of his little half-smiles, and I had to laugh.

  “No, sir, that you’re most surely not,” I agreed.

  They say that a noble heart is more beautiful than the most brilliant of diamonds, and the way Cody talked about love that day touched a very deep place in my own heart. In so many ways, he was tough as nails on the surface and then sweet as peach pie when he didn’t think anybody would ever know it.

  I think it was then that I first realized I might really be starting to love this boy, or at least that the chance was definitely there. Not just a wash of nostalgia, or a weakness for handsome young cowboys, but the real thing. And that scared me, because so far he’d given me precious little reason to think he felt the same way. I was afraid of getting hurt.

  “I don’t usually bring girls home to meet Mama, either,” he added in that same offhand tone, still gazing out across the lake.

  I was quiet for a few seconds, dying to ask him what that meant and too scared of what his answer might be for me to get the words out.

  “Thanks,” I said, inanely, and he laughed, breaking the tension that had crept in between us.

  “You want to see my place?” he asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

  “I thought you lived here,” I said, confused.

  “Well, yes and no. I’m still here on the ranch, but I moved out to the bunk house a couple years ago, so I could be on my own and have friends over whenever I wanted to and stuff like that, without disturbing Mama,” he explained.

  “I’d love to,” I said.

  “All right, then. It’s close enough to walk, if you don’t mind a little exercise,” he said.

  “Not at all,” I agreed.