Free A Parchment of Leaves by Silas House

on that banjo, rocking back and forth with it atop his lap, his fingers pulling out clucks and pops on the strings. Lord, it was something to behold, the sound he could make with nothing more than his thumb and his pointing finger.
    â€œIf you want to be something, you ought to make a living playing that banjo,” I said.
    He thought this was funny. “Shoot, Vine,” he said. “A person can’t make no money playing music.”
    When Aaron left, he would always throw his banjo over his shoulder by the strap, then push his hands far down into his pockets and whistle while he walked home. He had a way of whistling that no one could match, either. It was so sharp and high that it made a scratch on the air. But there was something else. Aaron’s whistle was not one of happiness, like most people’s. For some reason, it always made my scalp crawl to hear it.
    Still, when Aaron wasn’t there, the house was all silence. All day long, I felt like I was just going through the motions of waiting on Saul to get home. His silence liked to killed me that winter, but it seemed I loved him more and more every day. I remember plainly waking up one day and realizing that I loved him. I guess you can’t name a single reason you love somebody. It was a whole slew of things. I loved the way he put his hand on the small of my back when company got ready to leave and we seen them to the door. I loved how his breath smelled like sweet milk when he first woke in the morning. Despite myself, I loved him when he rode his horse down the creek before daylight, off to work at that old mill. Sometimes I caught myself and felt like a little lovesick fool for being hurt over hisleaving for the day. Often I wondered why it was that I missed him so when he was gone. He wasn’t much company when he was present. Still, I loved it when he come home with his hands tore all to pieces from running the lumber through the saw. He would lay his hand out and let me doctor the cuts for him, even though I knowed he would have rather just let it heal up on its own. And somehow, I even loved his silence. I loved him for that, but this did not dull my loneliness, either. So I sometimes hated him for the same reasons I adored him.
    Winter was a cutting-off time. It was a time when people didn’t get around much. I went from December until March without seeing my mama and daddy. There was a lot of big snows that year, every one of them predicted by the bones in Esme’s little arms. So I had to force myself to make it. I would survive this season and tell myself that come spring, things would be different. I made myself busy, I listened to Aaron, I sometimes put on my mackinaw coat and went out onto the porch to wait on Saul when it got time for him to come home.
    I stood there, froze to death, the air so cold that there were long moments when I couldn’t see in front of me because of the bud of white that bloomed from my lips every time I breathed. My teeth chattered, but the air felt good and clean. It smelled like rocks that rest under dripping cliffs. I throwed crumbs from last night’s corn bread out onto the yard so redbirds would swoop down and peck at them. I leaned against the porch post and held my hand out into the snow, which fell so lazy and carefree that it seemed it might never touch the ground. Each snowflake that melted on my palm held the promise of spring. I let it melt there, and then put it to my lips, hoping I might catch the hint of spring in that snow water. Then Saul would come up the gray rocks of the creek, steam rising off the horse’s haunches.
    I knowed what I wanted: a baby. Somebody of my own to keep me company. This sounds selfish, but of course it was more than that.I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t carrying one already. Saul didn’t talk much, but he sure did like to moan.
    I would have never guessed I was pregnant if Serena hadn’t told me. I hadn’t seen her