Red Earth Review #1

had not returned. Dorcas had never eaten in a restaurant alone; neither had she seen a woman eating alone in a restaurant even once. She wanted the fried chicken and an ice cream sundae for dessert, but she couldn’t spend that much. She didn’t know how she was getting home or how much it might cost. In the city, everything was more expensive.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

It was the man from outside the bank. He had one hand on the chair opposite her. He might pull it away from the table and sit in just a moment. Up close, Dorcas saw that he was about thirty. His voice was friendly, confident. It was even kind. She was absolutely sure he was military, though he was dressed like the men in the Mennonite choir. On him, the shirt and tie looked elegant, flattering, though. The tie had a daring pattern, and she recognized that his clothes were expensive, that he knew he looked good in them. The kind voice, though: it sounded real.

His posture was the straight, shoulders-back posture that marked most of the men she knew from church, her father’s Marine friends.

“I’m waiting for my sister,” Dorcas lied. She tripped, saying it. She wasn’t a natural liar, and where it had been easy to lie to the busboy or whatever he was with the menus, this man looked savvy and discerning—and he wasn’t busy with anything at all.

“Well, she’s taking her time,” the man said. “I saw you waiting outside the pawn shop; you’ve been waiting for some time.” His hair was very short, a basic brown, with one patch of white at his left temple. There must be a birthmark there. His eyes were pretty girl-eyes, hazel. The flecks of gold in them were irregular. To a lover, they would be fascinating. Heavy brows arched over them—too heavy—but the rest of his appearance was very handsome. Cecily would be falling all over herself to impress a guy like this. Mary would be sulking because she’d know she had little chance. Dorcas looked up at the man—he was taller, standing here, than he’d looked in front of the skypiercing bank—and felt relieved and at ease. She was a girl. A teenager. A man like this would have a wife. Perhaps he had a child. He wore no ring, but not every married man did. General Barrie did not. The Barries joked about it—he’d worn one in the beginning, but General Barrie, who was not a small man, liked to eat. He particularly liked Virginia ham, and one Easter after the ham dinner his hand began to swell so much from the salty meat that he took the ring off before it got to the point where he 109