Apalachee

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

the high-pitched clamor of the tree frogs coming as it always had from the grove of trees around the spring near her mother’s house. She pulled back from him a little and smiled. But he did not return the smile. He looked at her with great seriousness, and bending his head he kissed the tears on both her cheeks, and then he put his mouth to hers and pulled her to him again. The intensity of it swept into her and weakened her legs, and she moved with him toward the earth, down into the tall, summer grass. The grass closed around them, making a place that was all their own, and he filled it. She opened her eyes and he filled it completely, the grass all around and the night sky beyond and his hands caressing her, finding their way to the smoothness of her skin, pressing her, feeling her. She arched against him, and the eagerness that was in him was in her, too. She held him tightly as he came into her, and there were tears again, not weeping, but tears from the closeness and the power. Afterwards they lay together in their tunnel of grass and watched the stars and spoke softly of various things, of themselves and their lives before their coming together. And after a while they made love again, more slowly this time. And then they slept. In the morning, in the earliest light of dawn, Lucia got up and wrapped her skirt around her and walked through the clearing to the place where her mother’s house had been. There was nothing left of it except a slight rise in the earth, with a great thicket of sumac growing on top. She stood and looked at it for a moment, and then she went on to the spring. She waited there, and when the first rays of sunlight came breaking through the trees, she raised her hands and sang the song of greeting to the Sun. 110 chapter fourteen The camp of Salvador lay deep within a forest laced with animal trails. Only because Carlos had been there before did they know which trails to follow. Near the camp, however, the human trail became more distinct and Lucia herself could pick it out. She joked with Carlos, saying she would lead the way, and so he stopped and let her go in front of him. She found it good to walk ahead, almost like being alone. For two days she had walked beside Carlos or behind him through the woods and fields, and the sight of him was such an amazement to her that her mind was continually preoccupied in its effort to absorb his reality and take for granted that he was there. It was a relief to be in front of him now, not looking at him and only barely hearing his footsteps as she walked along and watched the forest, heavy and green with summer. A brown thrasher, startled from its foraging in the leaf mold, flew up into a sweet gum tree and was lost in the foliage. Beyond the leafy canopy, high above them, the bits of sky were intensely blue. The midday sun was hot out there, but here beneath the green canopy it was cool. Then suddenly, from behind, came the loud barking of a dog, and Lucia whirled to find Carlos smiling playfully. From the direction of the camp came an answering bark that faded to a tremulous howl, as when one dog hears another in the distance and sends up a song of loneliness. ‘‘You made that bark?’’ she asked, laughing with him. ‘‘That was very good. And was that a sentry who answered?’’ ‘‘We keep careful watch,’’ he said, motioning for her to go on. ‘‘Slavecatchers have never bothered us here, but there is always the danger of them.’’ ‘‘And of Spaniards,’’ she said. She let him go first again on the trail, then followed along behind him. ‘‘We are not worried about the Spaniards.’’ He spoke without looking back. ‘‘They would not come so deep into the forest. They no longer have the strength to do that.’’ ‘‘But what stops the Creeks? They are strong.’’ He shrugged. ‘‘Why should they treat us as enemies? We are not vassals of Spain here.’’ ‘‘Nor vassals of England, either,’’ Lucia said. ‘‘It is reason enough to come against us if they can enslave us and trade us for guns to the English...