Running Barefoot

When fall came and school started, schedules changed and my lessons filled the after school hours from 3:00-6:00. From September to May, I spent my mornings down at Louise’s shop listening to gossip and cutting hair. Louise had a steady clientele; being the only shop in town for twenty years has its advantages. Over the last couple of years she’d been more then happy to shoo a few folks my way, though more often then not, she kept her women clients, who had become attached to her as women are prone to do with their hairstylists. I mostly cut the children’s hair, the men’s hair, and had once even trimmed Iris Peterson’s miniature poodle, Vivvi.

September is typically a beautiful month throughout the West - the light is softer, the temperatures abate, the sky is often impossibly blue, and a hint of color starts to tempt the trees with autumn. August had left Levan with an angry huff, leaving heat in its wake, and I was ready for September’s cooler head to prevail. Fall was my favorite season, and I was eager to smell it and feel it on my skin. Unfortunately, as I walked the mile to Louise’s that morning I saw no sign of it. The yellow sundress I had put on that morning (because it reminded me of yellow autumn leaves) now mirrored a persistent summer sun, and I picked up my pace to escape its rays.

I slammed into the shop with a sigh, the screen door whooshing behind me, Louise’s bell tinkling above me. The cool air that hit me felt like salvation, and I closed my eyes and lifted my damp blonde curls off my neck so the fan whirring by the door could blow directly on my skin.

“Good mornin’, Sunshine,” Louise drawled, with a smile in her voice.

“Good morning, Louise,” I sighed again, my eyes still closed and my head still bowed in grateful worship to the humming fan.

“When yer done prayin’ you can say hello to Nettie and Samuel, too.”

My head jerked up, and my eyes flew open at the mention of Samuel’s name. Nettie was sitting in Louise’s pink swivel chair, patiently reading a magazine with Julia Roberts on the cover while Louise rolled her hair in little pink pin curlers.

“Good morning, Nettie,” I said lightly, my eyes darting to see Samuel leaning against the wall next to the swinging doors that led into the general store.

“Good morning, Samuel,” I said, striving again for lightness. Instead my voice squeaked a little, and Louise looked at me quizzically.

Samuel dipped his head slightly, and Nettie spoke up, never lifting her eyes from the glossy pages. “Samuel wants a trim, Josie, if you don’t have anything scheduled right away.”

“She doesn’t,” Louise supplied without hesitation, and she and Nettie looked over at me expectantly.

“Certainly, Samuel,” I tried not to stammer. “Right this way.”

I walked quickly to my station and pulled a black apron over my dress, tying it swiftly and trying to control the nervous heat that pooled in my stomach. I couldn’t understand why I felt so off kilter when he was around me. I hadn’t seen him since we’d ended up running together yesterday morning. Part of me desperately wanted to avoid him, part of me was intensely happy to see him again.

I turned, expecting him to be behind me, and met his gaze across the room where he still leaned unmoving, watching me with an undecipherable expression on his face. In a fluid and easy manner he shifted his weight and walked towards me. Again, I felt the sensation of butterflies dancing in my belly and wished I’d foregone breakfast.

He folded his length into the pink chair, and I levered the chair downward so I could lower his head back into the sink. I made myself busy, not looking into his face. I tested the water temperature and slid a towel beneath his neck so the water wouldn’t drip into his shirt when he sat up. I focused on his thick black hair and the deceptive silkiness of its texture in my hands. The water was warm as it rushed through my fingers and I massaged the shampoo into his scalp. There is something about washing another person’s hair that is very nurturing, and the caregiver in me normally enjoyed the simple act of service. I took pleasure in the sighs of contentment that were invariably expressed. Most people closed their eyes and relaxed under my gentle hands.

Samuel kept his eyes opened and trained on my face. I tried desperately to avoid his gaze. It made the act of molding my hands to his head incredibly intimate, and I longed to shut my own eyes to relieve the tension his perusal was creating between us. I tried to distract myself with thoughts of Kasey. I had never kissed Kasey with my eyes open…I’d never even thought about it. I’d always closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his lips on my lips. I wondered if Samuel would kiss me with his gaze locked with mine. I grimaced inwardly and chastised myself, mortified at the direction of my thoughts. I didn’t want him to kiss me! He was infuriating and inquisitive and exhausting, and I wished he would go away!

I rinsed his hair with fervor and shut off the water with a frustrated yank. Levering furiously, I sat him up and briskly rubbed the towel over his hair.

“You seem angry,” he said smoothly. I wanted to slap him. I was angry. Ridiculously and desperately angry. Why did he have to come back? I didn’t want to deal with old feelings that brought fresh pain. I was through loving people who would only leave. I met his eyes furiously in the mirror and saw a humbling compassion in their depths. My anger slipped off me like a soiled silk dress. My hands grew still in his hair, and my eyes held the gaze of my old friend.

“I’m sorry, Samuel. I have behaved very badly since you returned,” I confessed in a whisper. “I can’t seem to get my balance, and I’m not sure why.” I fell quiet, trying to control my unruly emotions. “Will you please forgive me?”