When Horses Had Wings Read Online Free PDF Page A

hurt you, I’ll cancel my plans. I can always go to church some other time.” He kissed my forehead and gave out a horselaugh. “They ain’t missed me being there yet!”
    I was delighted to have won back his devotion. He’d stayed home with me when I knew he’d fancied being with someone else, someone much more physically attractive.
    I didn’t tell anyone what Kenny had done, not even Granny Henderson, who, at the time of my fall, had likely been cooking on what was left of her stove. I didn’t share the news with Momma, who probably would have simply felt bad about it, or Neta Sue, who’d have denied that her son would ever purposefully do such a thing. The whole episode was too atrocious to admit, too shaming. If I didn’t talk about it, maybe it would go away, pass right out of my memory like my childhood had, and then maybe I’d stop dreaming about deformed babies dying of malnutrition.
     
    ~
     
    For several days, Kenny called me “Woman” but acted like he’d said “Sugar-Pie” instead. He only laughed one morning when I overslept and forgot to pack his lunch. And later that afternoon when he returned from collecting garbage, he even brought me a gift.
    “Here, I found this today. Thought you might like it.” He dangled a heart-shaped golden locket like a pendulum in front of my face.
    I stood over our stove, stirring a pot of pinto beans and wondering whether he was trying to impress or hypnotize me. Possibly a little of both, I decided. “What is it?” I stopped the locket in mid-swing.
    “I dunno. You put pictures in it, I guess.”
    “Pictures?” I laughed. We didn’t own a camera.
    “Oh, you know what it is.” Kenny let go of the chain and unbuttoned his uniform shirt with the KEN insignia on it to help everyone, including me, remember who he was. He took a few steps, then stumbled and grabbed at the kitchen doorjamb.
    “You okay?” I asked, setting down the necklace.
    Kenny staggered to our bed and then caved onto it. He lay crosswise on his back, his legs hanging limply off one side of the mattress, an arm thrown over his forehead, eyes closed. “I’m fine,” he said. “Got a little dizzy all o’ sudden.”
    I turned down the flame under the beans and joined him in the bedroom. “You want me to get a cold rag?” I reached to touch his mottled cheek.
    He caught my hand and caressed it. “Would ya?”
    Lifting his legs, I righted him and positioned a pillow under his head. “I’ll be right back with a wet towel and some ice water.”
    Kenny patted my arm and smiled. For the first time in many months, I thought he actually saw me.
    When I returned, I dabbed at his face and neck with a damp cloth, wondering at his almond-shaped eyes and dark lashes. Those were the orbs that had lured me in and invited me to dance, kiss him, and eventually have sex. And there I was, about to have his child. Gently, I pulled him from his shirt, loosening one sleeve at a time.
    Within a few months we’d be parents, however unprepared either of us might be to fulfill our roles. I vowed to make the most of it. After all, as Momma had said, this was “my bed to lie in.” With that thought, I wrapped the spread around me, encasing the two of us inside a Chenille cocoon. Maybe we could emerge transformed into the perfect family I’d fantasized.
    The smell of burning beans soon awakened me, the pungent odor a roiling reminder of dinner and my limitations. I slipped out from underneath the covers and scurried on tiptoes into the kitchen, grateful, for once, that it was only five steps away. Dousing the pan with tap water, I managed to save our supper.
    The locket was where I’d left it on the stovetop. I lifted the piece for inspection. My fingers traced the tarnished necklace as I imagined the accessory made of 14-karat gold, a gift purchased from one of those fancy mall jewelry stores—the kind where couples with hopeful eyes hover around dazzling display windows. What would it be like to plan a