Asia also knows that Mother is worried about money. Beside her on the settee is an old dress of Rosalie’s, a blue-and-black plaid. If Father hadn’t died, it would now be in the scrap basket. Instead, Mother has turned it to the fresher fabric on the inside. She redid all the seams, moved the buttons, and is just replacing the collar and cuffs. She should have tightened the sleeves, but she didn’t, so they puff unfashionably. It’s a sad dress for sad occasions and Asia hopes never to see Rosalie wearing it.
And now Mother must add Johnny to her list of worries. “If only he would keep out of scrapes,” Mother says. “He’s such a good boy at heart.”
“What do you think the suitable punishment will be?” Asia asks.
“I suppose the rector means to cane him.” Mother gets up heavily from her chair. She leaves Asia sitting on the floor with the letter. Asia reads it again. She decodes it. “I intend to beat your brother. Sincerely yours.”
Over a dinner of last winter’s vegetables—beets, carrots, and potatoes, all fried in butter in a single pan so that every bite is stained pink—Mother tells Asia and Rosalie that she’ll be going to Catonsville tomorrow along with the fathers even though she wasn’t asked. She’ll insist on speaking directly with the rector and she’ll also have a talk with Johnny. Joe Hall will take her in the cariole and they’ll leave before dawn and be back midafternoon.
Next morning, Asia wakes to the sound of a horse whinnying in the dark. She hears the cariole rolling over the stones in the lane. She hears Joe sweet-talking the horse. She leaves Rosalie sleeping and descends the stairs to the dark and empty house.
All day she wanders. She goes to watch the children swim. She rides Fanny and brushes her afterwards, hooks the mud from her hoofs. Fanny puts her ears back and gives Asia the side-eye, but still lets this happen. Asia picks an armload of bluebells and arranges them in vases for the dining room and parlor. She holds the dustpan for Ann Hall when she sweeps. She writes a letter to Jean. She keeps herself as busy as one can be when there is absolutely nothing to do.
Midafternoon comes and goes with no sign of Mother. Asia wonders what’s happening in Catonsville, but idly. God knows, Johnny’s been in trouble often enough before. God knows, this won’t be his first beating. The rector’s letter makes Johnny look bad, but they haven’t heard Johnny’s side yet. No doubt he has one. Asia can’t believe he would rebel in this fashion unless driven to it. She does know that he hates Van Bokkelen, whom he refers to dismissively as Van, with passion.
Dusk and Mother is still not home. Asia becomes anxious. She imagines an accident with the cariole, a shooting at the school, some other catastrophe causing the delay. Sometimes she thinks Mother must be injured; sometimes she thinks it’s Johnny. She sits, waiting on the porch with Rosalie, and every moment that doesn’t bring the cariole is increasingly stressful. Mosquitoes circle, and Rosalie notes aloud, slapping her arms, that they prefer her blood to Asia’s. “Your blood isn’t sweet enough,” she says, as if this is a time to be joking, with Mother lying broken in a ditch somewhere. The chorus of the wood frogs begins. Three rabbits streak across the grass. An owl in the beech tree swivels his head to watch them, biding his time. The cariole appears in the lane leading to the house.
Joe Hall takes off his cap and waves. Nothing seems to be amiss. Asia transitions quickly from relief to irritation, that she should have been made so frightened for no reason. The surprise then is to see Johnny and Joe in the cariole alongside Mother. Joe Hall goes around to the back, picks up their bags. “Pretty evening, Miss Asia,” he says, “Miss Rose.” He steps past, takes the bags into the house.
Asia shouldn’t have been surprised. The school year was all but over anyway. Johnny and Joe’s return is only premature by a handful of days. But this will mark the end of Johnny’s academic education, an endeavor he never took to and will not miss.
He’s all smiles. When Asia goes to hug him, he stops her at arm’s length, holding out two closed hands. “Pick one,” he says. Long ago, he’d inked his initials onto the back of his left hand with such force they became a permanent tattoo. She touches the JWB with one finger and he turns his palm up, opens his fist, to show her an early firefly. A moment later, it sparks and the hand he holds out to her fills with yellow light.
* * *
—
“It was ripping,” Johnny tells Asia. She’s seated on the foot of his bed, his stockinged feet in the bowl of her skirt. Joe is asleep and they keep their voices low, but even in a whisper, Asia can hear Johnny’s pleasure. If Mother has given him a set-down, it doesn’t seem to have disturbed him.
Nailed to the wall over Asia’s head are the antlers of a large deer. If she looks up, she’ll see a variety of weapons dangling from the forked tines. The sword of Damocles and his pistol and his dagger, too.
“We just decided we’d had enough of the horrid food—bread with mold and meat that was all gristle. We complained, but no one cared. So a bunch of us snuck into the armory and stole some rifles. We killed Van’s own chickens, and forced the cook to fry those up for us. We made camp in the woods, just like soldiers, with a fire and the stars. It was maybe the best time of my life.”
“I’m glad you’re home,” Asia says. “I’ve missed you so much.” She waits for him to say that he’s missed her, too. It hurts sometimes that Edwin has chosen to stay away. Asia wants to hear Johnny say he’s glad to be home.
“Mother wouldn’t let me be whipped.” Johnny lies back, hands behind his head. “The other boys are all in for a walloping. I mean, I don’t want to be whipped, but it don’t sit comfortable that I get off free when I did all the same things they did. I certainly didn’t ask Mother to come charging to the rescue.”
Asia slides out from underneath his feet and stands. “I’m sure you can find someone local to whip you,” she says sharply. It took a minute to land, but now she’s smarting from his assertion that the best days of his life were days that didn’t include her.
“Have I made you cross?” Johnny asks. “What did I say?”
Asia forgives him. “Nothing.” She leans over and kisses him on the top of his head. His hair smells of smoke and tobacco. “I’m just glad you’re home is all. Everything is so quiet and lonely with only Rosalie around.”
Johnny’s return marks the beginning of a period of great intimacy between these two siblings. For the next few years, no one will be closer to Asia. He closes his eyes, speaks in a drowsy voice. “We did some target shooting out in the woods. Turns out I’m quite a decent shot,” he says, his tone affecting a modesty the words themselves don’t convey.
* * *
—