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.Only Calen, the oldest, lived at home anymore.Jeremia wasn’t sure why his brother chose not to get married and have his own family.He was like Jeremia, though, taking aimless walks that were not intended for food gathering.Such walks produced ideas, claimed Jeremia, and understanding.In our village, parents abandoned us, older sisters left for the city and we never heard from them again.Would I do the same when I got older? Would I someday leave Eva, Ranita and old Nathanael? I swore I would not do this.I would not abandon the people who had become my tribe.All night I held Ranita against my chest.I heard the creek trickling its song through the night, I heard the coyotes snuffling by the fire, I heard the soft barks of the fox puppies, I heard the distant whine of an airplane, and I heard Eva’s macaw, Emerald, chirping in her hut, but I did not hear boys with boards running through the woods, even though I listened until the sun reached its fingers into the hut.Since returning from his last excursion, Jeremia had changed.His actions seemed desperate now, more frantic and intense.While I warmed water on the fire, preparing to wash Ranita, he came up behind me, silent as a moth.I felt his nervousness, his fluttering hand, and when I looked at him, I saw his mouth moving, his lips whispering to himself.If I remained calm, gave him his space, maybe he would relax, stop fidgeting.Instead, he picked Ranita up from where I had laid her on the grasses and held her against his cheek.He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.He brought Ranita to Nathanael, who sat in the camping chair in front of the fire, and rested her on the old man’s knees.Nathanael picked up the baby, rocked back and forth, hummed.Jeremia grabbed me around the upper arm with his long, muscled fingers, pulling me away from the water and toward the creek.He let go and began to walk up the path.He didn’t turn to watch me, didn’t check to make sure my steps followed his—he knew I would come.We’d walked this path many times, day and night, sun and wind, but usually Eva was with us, running ahead, shrieking and hopping over the branches in our path.Often Nathanael came along with his fishing pole, wishing to catch the trout in the water hole.It was early in the day to swim, but the water was always warm in late summer.The trees above the hole stretched their branches to the sun, leaving an opening above the water that sucked in heat.Jeremia sat on the branch of the pine that reached out over the water, took off his shirt and swung his feet.His body reminded me of the willow tree, limber and thin, his muscles moving beneath the skin, his ribs gently raised bumps.His second arm was a rounded limb that reached to where his elbow would have been.I was so accustomed to seeing his arm without fingers that it didn’t seem strange to me.I sat beside him and waited.Our feet were almost the same color, darkened by the sun, but his toes were long and bumpy while mine were short and curled.I tilted my head back, felt the warmth of the sun and looked up into the sky.A solitary vulture, with its bald head and shaggy wings, flapped across the opening between the trees, and I saw the smoky trail of an airplane as it cruised through the sky in its carefully plotted path.I heard the hum of the mosquitoes just awakening.I saw the stirring of the water bugs skimming the surface of the pool.A leaf lazily drifted to the opening where the stream trickled from the pool.Jeremia’s hand touched mine.I looked down at our hands, his fingers over mine, warm and dry against my skin.That small touch, so light and delicate, sent tingles through my wrist and up my arm.I had been touched by Jeremia many times, but lately his touch had changed.When we were younger, we’d wrestled like kittens.We’d tumbled over each other, fought with each other, scratched, pinched, hit, but now every contact meant something more.I wanted him to touch me all the time.I looked at him.His eyes were pinched around the edges, as though he couldn’t see me clearly without squinting.Something needed to be said, but I didn’t know what.None of us talked much—except for Eva, who chattered like the squirrels.Nathanael was quiet, and Rosa had been moody and spoke almost always in caustic bites [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]