Kent Collins - Shelly On The Farm

As I turned left from the dirt road onto the blacktop, I heard a yipping bark behind me and turned to look through the rear window. It was Napoleon, my uncle's German shepherd, pressing his black nose wetly against the glass. He always liked to sleep in the back of the truck and I'd brought him along with me by accident. For the past week, the big friendly dog had been following me around a lot, so I felt just a little less lonely now with him close by.

When the lights of the town grew closer, I gripped the big, worn steering wheel and kept my toe down on the gas pedal, thankful to be free of males for a while.

I'd almost driven by the big, lighted tent on the side of the road when I realized what was going on and something inside made me pull the truck onto the shoulder and turn around. It was a revival meeting on the outskirts of Connerton-place where I might find some comfort.

Craning my head up over the steering wheel, I wound through the battered cars and trucks parked all over the unused cornfield by the tent. I found a place at last and told Napoleon to wait in the cab until I got back. He scampered happily onto the seat and closed his eyes.

As I wandered up, a fat man in a shiny suit grinned pleasantly at me.

"Glad to have you, Sister." There were a couple of vacant folding chairs in the back row and I took one and sat down to listen to the tall, bony preacher up front. He wore a brightly checkered jacket, floppy pants and wing-tipped shoes. I could clearly see the crazed gleam in his eyes all the way from my distant seat.

"You have to take care of your neighbor!" he shouted, shaking his snow white hair, "if you want God to take care of you."

Some heads nodded and a man hollered, "Amen, Brother!"

The preacher raised both hands and looked up at the top of the tent.

"People tell me they looooove God!" He looked at the audience again.

"Well, friends, I just tell them to give somebody in trouble a helping hand and find out what God's love is all about!"

"Hallelujah!" a big, black woman shouted from the row in front of me. I felt like shouting too. Something about the preacher's words made me feel good inside.

"Don't say you love God and then call some acquaintance out of his name!" The preacher made a sweeping gesture with his hands and studied the people before him. "Backbiting ain't done nobody any good any time.

Why, you wouldn't do anything like that to God, would you?"

There was a shout from the front row and an old man got down on his knees. "Praise the lord," he rasped.

People all around me got to their feet on a signal from the preacher and the quartet of singers behind him broke into a fast-riding spiritual while a black brother pounded out an irresistible throbbing back-up on an electric organ. I stood up too, completely lost in the music-so lost in it in fact that I hadn't noticed the tall blond boy who'd taken the seat next to me.

"Want a sip of this?" he asked, pushing an open can of beer my way.

"It's kind of hot in here tonight, and Brother Clyde up there tends to make it even hotter."

I shook my head and looked back to the front of the tent again. I wasn't even going to speak to another male. Not here, not anywhere… ever.

The music roared and swirled around me and I rocked gently to the beat, thinking about what Brother Clyde had said and hoping the boy next to me would go away. After a while my curiosity got the better of me and I glanced quickly over at him. He was wearing an expensive shirt, faded Levi's and leather boots that didn't seem as though they'd seen much work, not farm work anyway. Yet he was as strong-looking as Jason but taller and better looking.

"Now listen!" shouted the preacher over the throbbing music. "We're gonna show God's love tonight, you hear!"

"Thank you Jesus!" yelled a thin woman not far away. She threw herself into the aisle and rolled around until her clothes were covered with sawdust. A few other people stood close by to keep her from hurting herself.

Brother Clyde smiled broadly and nodded like he knew everything there was to know. "Now I want everybody here tonight to throw your arms around that neighbor beside you and show him what Jesus is talking about!"

I looked shyly to my left, but the woman there was already hugging someone else. My face flushed red and for a moment I felt like bolting from the tent and running back to the safety of the old pick-up and Napoleon.

"Well folks… What are you waiting for?" The preacher's eyes seemed to be burning right at me when he spoke and I turned away from them and looked up at the blond boy's face. Our eyes met and I could see that he was embarrassed too. Then he gave a little smile, dropped his empty beer can on the floor and held out his arms.

"Hello neighbor," he said.

I put my arms around his middle and felt his hands warm on my back. We stood like that for a few seconds, and I sensed the heat of his body, its softness and hardness where we fit together. I closed my eyes and thought of Jesus and thought of the Song of Solomon. I thought of my mother and sex and Frank, my stepfather, and Jason and…

A gentle hand pushed my head up and there were lips on my forehead, pressing wetly. Then they were gone. "Brother Clyde is right," the blond boy said. "That's what Jesus is all about."

I pushed my way out of his arms and stumbled through the clapping, singing people until I was outside in the cool, evening air. I was almost to the pick-up when I heard footsteps behind me,

"Hey, what's the hurry?" It was the boy again.

The damned old engine wouldn't turn over fast enough to catch and as I sat there straining my foot against the starter, he leaned against the door and watched me through the open window. I hoped that Napoleon would bark at him, but the dog just hung out his tongue and tilted his head to one side. The boy reached across and scratched Napoleon's ears.

"Look," he said, "I don't know what your troubles are, but I'd like to be around when you work them out." He motioned back toward the tent and shrugged. "You can't blame me for kissing you in there. Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?"

"What do you mean?" I snapped, just as the old truck shook itself into life.

"I mean you're about the prettiest chick I've seen since I left New York." He gave his easy smile again and the grey eyes sparkled. "Go ahead-just go ahead home and take a close look in the mirror." His next words were almost a whisper. "With or without clothes."

I let the clutch out with a jerk and steered the truck out of the lot toward the highway while the blond boy stood watching me, arms folded across his chest. After shifting into second I chanced a quick look back. He was waving, but I snatched my eyes back to the road again and chewed my lower lip. I was tired, awfully tired. Maybe everyone would be asleep back at the farm. Maybe I could get some rest without being bothered. But even before I got to the dirt road which wound toward Uncle Nat's, I was wondering if Aunt Linda would mind letting me use the full length mirror in her closet-just for a quick look, anyway.

The next morning I felt surprisingly rested for what I'd been through the night before. I was trying hard to forget Jason's coldness and my stepfather's loveless lust, but one memory wouldn't disappear-the burning kiss on my forehead which the blond boy had given me at the revival meeting.

Uncle Nat met me as I came up the front stairs of the house and took me aside.

"I found out what Frank tried to do to you last night, honey," he said, his mouth white with anger. "Caught him in the yard missing his pants and damn near beat bell out of the son of a bitch."

A rush of gratitude made me hug my big uncle around the middle. If only he knew what Jason had done to me-twice. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him.