The Promise by Weisgarber Ann

Author:Weisgarber, Ann [Weisgarber, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2014-04-01T00:00:00+00:00

I gave his hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. His steps began to smooth out and so did mine. He smiled with relief, and then we were dancing, circling the pavilion, everyone and everything around us a blur, the kerosene lamps flashes of light.

‘Evelina and I, one fine evening in June,

Took a walk all alone by the light of the moon.’

The dance, the music, drew us together.

‘The plants all shone for the heavens were clear,

And I felt round the heart, oh! mightily queer.’

We waltzed, the breeze and the whooshing of the surf all part of the music, our nerves slipping away. I smiled and as I did, a lightness came over me as though I were suddenly free of the past.

This lightness stayed with me when our waltz ended and I danced with the men, one after the other, their faces slick from the heat as they shuffled me around the pavilion, the music and the steps unfamiliar. It held me when the crowd whooped and clapped for the two nuns who jigged, the tune too loud and too fast. As long as there was music, even unrefined music, I was light, and there were only the violins, the mandolin, and Oscar. The music filled our silence, neither of us needing to be careful, neither of us measuring each word or watching every step. We danced, together and with others, our eyes meeting, smiling.

Then the last waltz ended and in the silence, Oscar turned cautious. He stepped back and dropped my hand as though he thought his good fortune had run its course, and I would splinter at any moment.

Now, at the foot of his first wife’s grave, Oscar crouched and pulled up a spiky weed with his bare hand, the soil tearing. Andre fingered the daisies in the vase and rubbed a petal between his thumb and forefinger. He pulled the petal loose and put it into his pocket.

Straightening, Oscar said, ‘That it, son? Ready to go?’

‘I’m hungry,’ Andre said.

‘Me too,’ Oscar said. He glanced at me. I nodded. He said, ‘Time to find us some shade.’

We took the wagon to the beach and found that shade in the base of the tall sand hills, a mile or so from the cemetery. Among the sea grass and flowers, Oscar unfurled the red wool blanket that Andre used for his naps. It rippled in the wind and I caught the opposite end. Andre pounced onto it to keep it from blowing away.

We sat on the blanket, Andre between Oscar and I. Oscar filled our jars with the bottled mineral water that he had brought while I passed out the boiled eggs and the fried ham sandwiches I’d wrapped in dish towels. Earlier, when I had returned to the house with the flowers, Nan was gone. Oscar told me that she worked a short day on Sundays. ‘But it isn’t like her to leave without saying so,’ he’d said. ‘Or without making our picnic. Looks like you’ll have to fix it.’

I hadn’t known what to do with fried ham.

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