The Americans Are Coming by Herb Curtis Page B

Lindon?”
    “Well, yeah, I got an old one that’s seen better days, as the feller says. Seen better days, an old one, yeah.”
    “Well, I have this Shakespeare I’d like for you to try.”
    “Sure, sure, the very best. Love to try it. Nice one, nice one, nice one, ain’t it?”
    “Let’s go fishin’,” said Bill, putting his arm on Lindon’s shoulder.
    As the two men were leaving the camp, Bill Wallace was saying, “I like you, Lindon! I’d like for you to come down to Stockbridge and visit us sometime! Would you like to have a rod like that, Lindon?”
    “Sure, sure, sure, yeah, love to, yeah, nice one, ain’t it?”
    Bill Wallace stopped at the door, looked at Lillian, gave a quick, dark glance at Shadrack and said, “I’ll only be gone for an hour or so, Lillian.”
    Lillian Wallace knew that the quick, dark glance meant that Shadrack Nash had better not be there when Bill Wallace returned.
    Although Shadrack was quite pleased with the situation, he was also somewhat confused. He’d never been alone with a pretty girl before.
    Lillian Wallace was tall for her age and was physically well advanced in the transition from girl to woman. She had short blond hair, big blue eyes and an easy smile that revealed perfect white teeth. Earlier, while reading on the veranda, the mosquitoes had found her and she had sprayed her body with repellent. Shad was very fond of the repellent’s perfumey smell. Shadrack found himself lost for words.
    “You go to school?” asked Shad.
    “Yes. I’ll be starting high school this September.”
    “Me, too,” lied Shad. Shad quit school when he was twelve. “How many kids in your class?” asked Lillian.
    To Shad, a school was the one room building called the Brennen Siding School – a blackboard, a woodstove, desks, a bucket in the corner for water and not much more. Shad had never stepped foot in the high school in Blackville. Shad didn’t know what a class was.
    Resorting to his knowledge of the exterior of Blackville School, he said, “Ninety-two.”
    “Wow! That’s a big class!” said Lillian.
    “Blackville’s a big place,” said Shadrack.
    *
    And so the conversation between Shadrack Nash and Lillian Wallace continued. Shadrack grew more relaxed as he became more familiar with his luxurious surroundings, with Lillian’s accent, tone of voice and smile, but part of him still wanted to get closer. A hug? A kiss? Pass the hand? Shadrack didn’t know what to do first.
    For ten minutes, Shad sat on the sofa and she in the chair. Then, Lillian moved to the sofa, but sat at the other end.
    For another ten minutes, Shad debated whether or not he should move closer to her; then he moved an inch.
    He waited ten more minutes for her to make the next move. Finally, she crossed her legs, and maybe (he wasn’t sure) moved slightly toward him. He couldn’t say whether it was an intentional aggression or not.
    She offered him a beer.
    “No thanks,” he said, “I’m trying to quit.”
    “You got a girlfriend?” she asked.
    “Yeah,” he lied, “two or three.”
    Lillian moved back to her chair.
    Ten minutes later, Lillian moved back to the sofa. They both knew they were running out of time. There was a couple of moments when you could hear a pin drop. Shadrack’s heartquickened and he made the giant plunge; an unpremeditated, graceful, three-inch glide toward her.
    “There’s no turning back now,” he thought.
    Lillian had just had a ten-minute debate with herself, too. The move back to the sofa, for her, had taken a great deal of strenuous reasoning. She had forced herself to favour optimism. At least I can say I was “with” a boy in Canada was the crux of her drive.
    She turned slightly toward him.
    “What occupation will you eventually pursue?” she asked.
    “I don’t know,” answered Shadrack. “A half dozen maybe.”
    “I’m considering anthropology, myself. Are you familiar with the Leakeys?”
    “No, but I had the measles and the