Oble turned back around and commenced to restart the fire. “Y’all look to be a right happy couple. Who are you?”
So as not to embarrass Theodosia, Roman said, “Mr. and Mrs. Montana. I’m Roman, and my wife is Theodosia.”
“I knowed a Theodosia once,” Oble said. “She had the biggest, purtiest brown eyes y’ever seed in your whole life. And when she blinked them long lashes at me, I’d fall plumb to pieces. Someone stole her, though. Pro’bly et her. I always knowed she’d make fer some good eatin’, but I couldn’t never bring mysef to eat her. Best cow that ever lived, ole Theodosia.”
Theodosia smiled, then burst into loud laughter.
The happy sound of her laughter had Roman chuckling too. Smiling, he set about fetching the food for breakfast. With Theodosia’s help, he soon had a batch of small meat pies frying over the fire.
“Much obliged,” Oble said after he and Chaparito had consumed most of the pies themselves. Patting his tight belly, he leaned back against Stub’s legs, then yelped in surprise when cold water splashed his face.
John the Baptist tossed a second beakful out of his cage. “Much obliged,” he said. “His middle name was Egbert, and they called him Eggy for short. I shore didn’t see that y’all was nekkid.”
Oble howled with laughter. “Lord, that’s one o’ them talkin’ birds! I ain’t never seed one, but I’ve heared of ’em. How y’gittin’ along, bird?”
The parrot cracked a sunflower seed. “If you want a worm, Theodosia, you have to find one yourself. Pull your nightgown up to your waist.”
Quickly, Roman reached for the cage.
“I’m going to spill my seed inside you,” John the Baptist called merrily.
Seeing the flustered expressions on Roman and Theodosia’s faces, Oble laughed again. “Ain’t no need to git all red-faced with me, y’all. If it weren’t fer nightgowns gittin’ pulled up and seed gittin’ spilt, there wouldn’t be no people in the world. Set your minds at ease and tell me where you’re headed.”
Roman set John the Baptist’s cage behind Theodosia and gave the parrot a glare. “Nowhere,” he answered.
“That’s the best place to go,” Oble stated. “Been there mysef many a time. Most folks I meet up with is always hurryin’ around to git to where they’re goin’. They got things to do, places to see, and they cain’t stand wastin’ nary a second gittin’ there to do whatever it is they think cain’t wait to git done or seed. Folks orter slow down some and quit frettin’ over tomorrow when somethin’s starin’ ’em right in the face today.”
He pulled a burr off Chaparito’s stubby tail. “Me? Well, I ain’t done nothin’ earth-shatterin’ important in my life, but I’ll tell you the truth, I’ve enjoyed ever’ minute o’ ever’ one o’ my simple days. ’Specially my days with my beloved Jeweleen. She was my wife fer twenty-two years. We never did git us no young’uns, but we was shore happy. I still miss her, and times come when I wake up in the middle o’ the night and still reach fer her. ‘Course, she ain’t never there, and that’s a real deep-down-sad feelin’. Ole Jeweleen, she used to wear flowers in her hair. I’ll always remember her with flowers in her hair. She growed them flowers hersef, and one time she won a prize at a church festival fer growin’ the purple-est posy.”
He paused, recalling the day at the festival. “I started out havin’ a good time at that church festival, but I got bit by a squirrel right after Jeweleen won her posy prize. That critter sank them teeth o’ his straight through my thumbnail, and it ain’t growed right since. I weren’t tryin’ to do nothin’ to the dang thing but feed him a peanut. Y’know, y’don’t never think about how useful thumbnails is till somethin’ goes wrong with the one y’use the most. I used to use this here bent thumbnail fer cleanin’ out my ears. Cain’t use it fer that no more, and sometimes I wonder if the reason why I cain’t hear like I used to is on account o’ my ears is s’dirty.”
He stood, brushed off his pants, and lifted Chaparito upon Stub’s back. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now. Hold on tight to each other, hear? Love good, laugh a lot, and y’all’ll have a real fine life together.”
When Oble disappeared into the woods, Theodosia stared after him. “He still reaches for his wife at night,” she whispered.
She wondered if she would reach for Roman while sleeping in the jungles of Brazil. And while asleep in the master bedroom of his ranch house, would Roman reach for her?
A painful emptiness tore through her breast, causing her to lay her hand on her chest in an effort to soothe the hurt.
“Theodosia? Are you all right?” Roman asked, noting the look of deep despair etching her fine features.
“What? Yes. Yes, of course I’m all right, Roman. I was only thinking about Mr. Smott.” Quickly, she thought of something completely unrelated to her true thoughts. “He possesses a penchant for rambling speech. Why do people converse in such a manner here in Texas?”
Roman cleaned out the frying pan. “Rambling speech?”
She couldn’t believe he didn’t know what she was talking about. “At one point, Mr. Smott began by telling us that he had done nothing important in his life, and he ended by wondering if his bent thumbnail was the cause of his dirty ears. I do not comprehend the reasons behind such oral meandering.”
Roman smiled. Sothat’swhat oral meandering was. “You’re from a city. All you have to do to see people is step out your front door. But out here people usually live far apart. They don’t see each other often, so when they get together, they have so much to say that one subject just naturally leads into another and another. They talk about anything and everything, and when the socializing’s over they go home and start saving up more stuff to talk about when they’re all together again. After a while, that kind of talking becomes a habit, so if country folk ever move to a town they still talk about anything and everything. And it’s not called oral meandering, Theodosia. It’s called chatting.”
“Chatting,” she murmured. “But how does one begin country chatting?”
“By saying anything in the world and then waiting to see what your mind thinks of next. But you’re from the North. You probably can’t do it,” he challenged.
She concentrated on the first statement she would make. “Oble Smott had white hair.”
Roman anticipated her next sentence, but she said nothing. “And?”
She simply could not think of anything else to say.
