I'll bet we end up working straight through to Sunday morning.'
Deborah made a sympathetic noise. 'I sure hope I don't doze off again in the middle of the sermon. They've never let me forget it!'
'Don't worry,' he said sharply, 'I'll make sure you stay awake. But as soon as we come back here, I'm going to sleep for the rest of the day. And you're going to be right there beside me, naked as Old Mother Eve; so that when I get up-'
'Oh, no, I'm not, honey. And neither are you.' She reached over and ran her fingers through the dark hair on his chin. 'Don't you remember? We've got a visitor coming on Sunday.'
Sarr made a face in the darkness. 'I forgot all about him.' With a sigh he sat up, dislodging a cat about to seat itself on his chest. 'Well, at least it'll bring in some money. Lord knows we can use it.' He turned and looked across the lawn at the outbuilding, a squat black form against the night sky.
'We'll have to get the place fixed up tomorrow,' said Deborah, as if reading his thoughts. 'Put up the screens and get the ivy off those windows. And I don't intend doing it all myself.'
He grunted noncommittally.
'We'd best do it early,' she went on. 'We'll have more planting at night, and Sunday'll be too late. 'Twould be awful if he came out here with all his goods, took another look at the place, then turned around and went home.' She paused, speculating. 'I sure hope he doesn't mind a few bugs.'
He got to his knees and began brushing the dirt from his pants. 'Well,' he said, 'you never know about those city people.' Yawning, he stood and sniffed the air; the wind was blowing off the marsh, but he could smell the fragrance of the freshly planted field, the moist soil and vegetation. 'All right, woman!' He prodded her gently with his toe. 'High time we got back to the others.'
'Sure wouldn't want old Joram to squawk!'
'No, wouldn't want that.' He smiled in spite of himself, but then felt a surge of anger. How dare she talk that way? And how dare he let her? Troubled, he turned from her to stare into the distance. As always, the view calmed him. He was simply going to have to make her understand. But not now, not on such a night…
There was a faint glow in the eastern sky, past the outbuilding and the woods. The wind was blowing from behind him and went hissing through the tops of the trees; they nodded together as if sharing a secret. As a boy, on nights like this, he'd used to pretend that, if he stood on tiptoe, he could see truck depots, railroad yards, and glimmering lights – the lights of New York City, not fifty miles away.
Rejoining the others gathered around the cottonwood fire, they savored the last quiet moments before their return to the field. Here and there a knife blade rose and fell in the ruddy light as the younger men sat sharpening the ends of their staffs. Two acres had already been planted; before they departed tonight they'd have completed two more. A fifth would still remain, but after dark tomorrow Poroth and his wife could see to that themselves. "Twill keep 'em out of mischief on a Saturday night,' joked one of the men. 'We'll see 'em stagger into worship next morning with corn seed in their hair!'
Poroth made no answer. He was crouched in the shadow of the table and, as tradition demanded, was busy binding last year's garland to the top of the staff. The dried husks and withered ears dangled from the wood like talismans atop a spear.
Some of the more flirtatious wives stood near the men but talked among themselves, flaunting their long, unfettered hair. As a rule it was worn pinned up in a severe and deliberately unbecoming style, to be let down only at bedtime before one's own husband. During the yearly planting, however, this rule was relaxed.
'Like a pack of spoony schoolgirls!' came a low, laconic voice from the darkness. ' "Father, turn away mine eyes from beholdin' vanity." '
Deborah's youthful figure broke away from the others. 'Why, Rupert Lindt, is that all you can say after staring at us half the night?' She took another step forward and, with a toss of her head, struck a mock-seductive pose. 'You better go back and read the second half of the book: "If a woman have long hair, 'tis a glory to her." '
From the darkness came the man's embarrassed laugh and an automatic chorus of amen's. The one called Joram frowned and looked away. Among the Brethren it was considered unseemly for a woman to speak to a man other than her husband, and they took an equally dim view of those who quoted scripture back and forth in argument; for a people so conversant with the Bible it was far too easy to do. 'Sarr,' he said at last, turning to the younger man, 'you've come back to us like a prodigal son, and we rejoice in it – just as we rejoice in the wife you've brought back. The Holy Spirit's in her, we all know it is, but there's still much she'll have to be taught. 'Tisn't a night for jests. "They that sow in tears shall reap in joy." I think you know the rest.'
'I do,' said the other, aware of the correct response. ' "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." Don't worry, Brother Joram. I'll teach her to weep.'
Beside him came a muttered 'Amen.'
From the west a breeze gathered, carrying the scent of marsh water and rotting pine; it ruffled their beards and stirred the rosebushes at the side of the house. The night was cooler now, and the work sweat had dried on their bodies. They turned to face the fire, the men in their vests, the women in long dresses. Bats flitted through the darkness above them like the shadows of small birds; moths clustered around the dancing flames where the old men stood talking. Across the lawn bustling shapes moved to and fro in the light of the kitchen. The screen door opened, and a line of older women emerged from the house bearing small metal lanterns to help with the clean-up. The door slammed shut. Low in the sky the half-moon seemed close enough to touch, God's oppressive thumbnail poised just above their heads.
Joram stood. 'Up, brothers, sisters,' he called softly, striding toward the fields. 'We've sore travail before us.' Passing the knot of children, he bent and addressed the smallest of them, all but dwarfed by the bag of seed. 'Now mark you don't let varmints eat a single one,' he warned. "Twould be bad portent!' With his face turned away from the firelight it was impossible to tell if he was smiling.
Soundlessly the others followed. The time of rest was over.
By now the tables had been cleared of the last scraps of food and of the cloth that had covered them. A lantern had been placed upon the one in the center, and in its beam a younger woman stood folding up the bridge table, her hair knotted back like that of the elders in the kitchen. Moving past the tables, Poroth set down his staff and approached her.
'I want to thank you, Cousin Minna,' he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. 'It was good of you to come tonight. I only wish you could've been out there with the rest of us.'
The other nodded gravely. Above the glowing lantern, her homely face looked prematurely aged. 'Piet wouldn't have wanted me to stay home and mope. You know how he loved a night like this, with all the folks gettin' together underneath the stars. I can feel his spirit with me right this very minute, standin' by my side. It's with me all the time, these days. I expect you feel it too.'
'I do,' said Poroth – and in a way he did. Or maybe it was just a passing breeze. 'I swear he's almost close enough to touch.'
Hearing a faint movement behind him, he turned half eagerly to look and found himself facing his mother. She was carrying one of the empty brown jugs back to the kitchen.
'Here,' he said, 'let me help you with that.' He took it from her and started toward the house, expecting she would walk beside him. But moments later, looking back, he saw that she hadn't moved. She was standing perfectly still, as if the shores of some vast and invisible ocean were stretched before her feet, and she was watching him with an expression which, in the dim light, he found difficult to read.