Filed to story: Love on the Sidelines (Natalie & Karl)
I shrugged. “Because he’s nice, once you get him to talk to you. I like him. And he’s not like his father. He reads books.”
She lifted her blue eyes heavenward. “Well, that explains it. Anyone who reads is a saint to you. He’s probably your soul mate.”
“What’s a soul mate?”
“The person you’re supposed to marry when you grow up.”
“I’m not getting married,” I insisted. “I’m going to be a writer.” 20
“Don’t you want to have kids?”
I thought about the question for a second or two. There were several babies in our church and I always enjoyed playing with them. “Maybe.”
“Well, you have to be married if you want kids.”
“Liz Swanner isn’t married and she has six.”
We stared at each other as we pondered this mystery.
“Maybe if she were married she wouldn’t have had that many,” Jenna ventured.
“Let’s go ask your mother.”
“Okay.”
My mother solved the dilemma very simply. She told us we thought too much and then shoved a handful of warm cookies at us.
Jenna had to leave shortly after that so the topic was dropped, but I couldn’t stop wondering. Karl would surely know. After all, he lived next door to the Swanners. The problem was getting him away from the Judge long enough to ask. Instinctively, I knew the Judge wouldn’t approve of my discussing the situation with Karl.
I didn’t get the opportunity to ask him that day. By the time I got to the shed, he had already left. I didn’t see him again until the next night, and my first glimpse of him then scared all the questions right out of my head.
“Natalie? Take the scraps from supper out to the barn for the cats,” my mother called from the kitchen.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I had been lying on my stomach on the living room floor, reading and listening to the cicadas singing through the open windows as dusk fell. The Judge, pipe stem gripped between his teeth, was sitting in the recliner reading the newspaper.
Even though it had been years since the barn housed any horses or cows, it was still the home of many smaller animals. Not only did it serve as a refuge and nursery for a large cat population, we got an occasional stray dog, a few barn owls, some pigeons, squirrels, a possum or two, and of course, the mice. Once I had even surprised a small gray fox. All of which is probably why I wasn’t alarmed when I heard a rustling from the back of the building.
There were a couple of tin plates set out and I dumped half the contents of the bowl into each one, using a spoon to scrape the last drops off. Some of the friendlier cats had come running as soon as I stepped into the barn. The others waited until I straightened and stepped away from the food.
The rustling came again, followed by a low moan. The hair on my neck and arms popped erect as I stared into the darkness. No animal was making that noise. “Who’s there?”
When no one answered, I edged toward the door and reached for the light switch.
The Judge had installed electricity in the barn at the same time he’d converted the tack and feed rooms into living quarters for Mr. Bob, our handyman. No one had used the room since Mr. Bob died, although it was still kept furnished, and cleaned on a regular basis.
Taking a deep breath, I hit the switch, a gasp escaping my lips as I saw where the noise came from. Karl was lying on his side, curled protectively around something clenched to his stomach. The bowl I was holding slid from my fingers and I darted across the building, falling to my knees beside him.
“Karl? What’s wrong?” He was so still I was terrified, afraid he was dead. “Karl?” When I touched his shoulder to shake him, he groaned again and opened his eyes, their gray depths glazed with pain.
“Your books,” he whispered. “I tried to hide them, but he found them, was going to burn them. Couldn’t let him do it. I had to bring them back.” Slowly, he uncurled one arm to expose the books he held so tightly.
It wasn’t until I reached for them that I realized my hand was wet. I stared in horror at the red coating my fingers. “You’re bleeding!”
“I’m okay. Have to go.”
He struggled to rise, but I held him down. How he’d walked the three miles from the salvage yard to our farm I’ll never know. But one look at his shredded back convinced me all the bee balm in the world wasn’t going to fix this. His shirt was in tatters, blood oozing from dozen of wounds. I had to get help, fast.
“Don’t move. I’m going to get Mama.”
“No.” His hand closed around my arm. “You promised you wouldn’t tell anyone. If they find out, they’ll put me in a home.”
Tears filled my eyes as he tried again to stand. I couldn’t let him leave. He’d never make it home. “Wait. Please. Let me get the Judge. I’ll make him promise not to do anything before I tell him. He’ll know what to do.” A shiver racked his slim frame and he settled back to the floor like a deflated balloon. Karl’s world contained no shades of gray. Everything was black and white.
Either you were a good guy who could be trusted, or you weren’t. He had already decided the Judge and I were part of the good guys.
“Make him promise,” he whispered, his eyes closing.
I shot out of the barn faster than I’d ever moved, only slowing when I reached the kitchen, half-afraid he’d change his mind and try to leave again before I got help. My mother and my aunts were still cleaning up after supper, and I held my hand behind my back so they wouldn’t see the blood.