Lies
Closing my knife, I knead feeling into my hand. I rub my cheek raw to rid it of the smudge from Gerald’s hair. I try to wipe the feel of his kiss from my lips. The smell of him clings to me, and the doughnuts in my stomach churn. I leave them beneath a tree.
One sleeve of my dress hangs by a few threads. I straighten it as best I can and commence the long walk back to town.
I spot a granite monument. Atop it, a bronze soldier stands with his rifle, his chin high and his back straight. Be strong, he seems to say.
I take deep breaths, grip my torn sleeve, and right my goldfinch hat. I wince in the painful shoes, step after shameful step. When I want to stop and rest, I recall the soldier and keep walking.
Close-together houses are near when I see Grandpa. He looks scared. His arms reach for me, and he almost hugs the stuffing out of me. “Are ya all right?”
I lie and say I am. His fingers touch my torn dress and his eyes ask questions.
“I got caught in brambles,” I lie again.
He squints into my eyes, and I force a smile. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. His words light into me full force. “What in tarnation was ya thinkin’, goin’ off like that, scarin’ me out’a my wits?” His face isn’t scared anymore. Only anger burns in his eyes.
I angered Grandpa today, but his anger would be far worse with Gerald if he knew the truth.
Back home, folks call it Family Justice to exact vengeance on someone who’s done harm to kin. It was never my worry. I spent no time with boys and knew nothing of their ways. Gerald was the first to buy me flowers or offer me his arm. I let his attentions turn me foolish.
In your day, when Union marauders threatened your family, you chose against vengeance and sent your womenfolk away. But within spitting distance of Skitter Falls, men have been hanged or shot for what Gerald tried to do. I don’t want Grandpa to use his rifle in the name of Family Justice. I don’t want vengeance brought on my account.
Does that sound odd coming from a girl who threatened a man with her knife? I’m right glad he scared easy, so I didn’t have to back up my words.
Virginia Lee Kent
