Deep in the Heart of Me by Diane Munier Page A

apples we have at the house, and he brings one?
    She is beside me, and I hand it to her. "Is it your only one?" she says.
    "It's all right. You can have it."
    "No. We'll share."
    "I don't want it."
    "But, I'll take the first bite, and you can have the second. Like that."
    "Here," I say taking the apple. I get my knife out of my pocket, pull the blade from the bone handle. I slice the apple in half and tell her to hold one piece while I put away the larger blade and pull the smaller slender one. I proceed to cut a circle around the core and remove it. I hand her that coreless half and take the other and do the same to it.
    "Thank you Tonio," she says sinking her straight white teeth into the flesh. It makes a crisp sound and I don't know when I've been so happy to do this. Happier than when I do it for Pee-Wee.
    She smiles at me. "It's very sweet," she says chewing. Then, "Aren't you going to eat yours?"
    Of course, I am, I was just…watching her for a minute.
    I slice mine and eat it off the knife.
    "Did you ever kill anything with it?"
    "Huh?"
    "With your knife."
    I have, but I'm not going to tell her about it. I don't think I am.
    I still hold two bowl-shaped sections of core. "Watch this," I say, and I walk over to Tibby, and she follows me. I hold my palm to Tibby's mouth, and she noisily crunches the treat.
    "Her teeth are so big," Sobe says.
    "She's a horse."
    "Are you afraid of her?"
    "Of Tibby?" I frown.
    "Do you have a sweetheart?"
    What? I stare at her again. She is serious.
    "Elsie says…."
    "Don't talk to her about me," I say, and it's too stern. I just meant…don't talk about me.
    "I'm sorry."
    "It's all right. I…don't have a …."
    "Elsie says…well, I'm sorry, but you're her brother. She said girls go sweet on you all the time. Even in first grade."
    "I don't like them," I say. I don't like them?
    "Oh. Well…you're not afraid of anything, are you?"
    "I don't know. No."
    "I think you're brave. The bravest boy I know."
    I go to the sack to see what else my brother brought us. Biscuits and bacon. In a clean cloth, there are four. Two each. I give one to Sobe.
    "But…is there enough?"
    "Yes," I say. I like giving her this.
    "You are brave," she repeats.
    "Sometimes," I say just because I should say something.
    "Not always?"
    I think of the dream where I couldn't breathe. "I don't know. Dad says…I have to think before I do something." I'm not saying it right. I mean…I'm learning to think. Maybe not first, but eventually.
    "I don't have a beau."
    I am looking intently. I can't believe she just blurts things. "Have you? Had one?" I don't want her to be fickle. If she is…I don't know what I'll do about it.
    "Lots of them. In Springfield. I was glad we moved away."
    Lots of them? I don't care for that. I guess she is fickle then. Well, maybe she couldn't help it. Dad said Mom had many suitors wanting her hand. I guess when you're beautiful. And Sobe is.
    "You're from that big town?"
    "City," she laughs. "Me and Abraham Lincoln."
    "He's not from there," I correct.
    "Well, in 1844 he was," she answers taking a bite of her biscuit.
    "Why did you leave?'
    "My dad. He thought it would be better."
    "Is it? Better?" I also take a bite of my dinner.
    She swallows and licks her lips. "This is so good!"
    "Mom. She makes the biscuits."
    Sobe licks her paint splattered fingers. "So good."
    "Is it better?" I repeat.
    She shrugs and takes another big bite. "Yes."
    "Do you have…family, here?"
    She swallows. "No."
    "Where are they? Your family."
    She holds the last bite before her lips. "Just Dad." Then she pops that last bit in and chews. She is girlish in the way she eats. Proper. She is better than me. Than mine. Maman has manners, and the girls, they are not quite like Sobe.
    "You look at me," she grins.
    I look away, at the trees.
    "You can," she says. "It's not a sin."
    "A sin?" I say, and I might be embarrassed now.
    "Do you like to look at me or something?" she says.
    I can't believe she's asking.
    "Why do you