Eduardo's Arc

Chapter 54 of 60

Two days after Eduardo left the wood at the school, a man knocked on his door at dawn. Eduardo did not know him well. He ran a hauling cart in town. The man had a wide smile and cold eyes. "Word's out," he said. "You gave the schoolteacher a truck of split wood. Free. No note." He leaned on the frame. "A generous man. That's the new Eduardo, they say." Eduardo waited. He knew this shape of talk. It came before a request. "My cart threw a wheel," the man said. "I've got a load owed to the sheriff's cousin by Friday. I need a truck and a driver. You. No pay. Just this once." He smiled wider. "A man who gives to a teacher won't turn down a neighbor. That'd look strange, wouldn't it? People would wonder if the giving was just show." There it was. The trap. If Eduardo said no, the man would tell town he was still the old Eduardo, kind only when watched. If he said yes, he owed a favor to a man tied to men he had fought to leave. His winter was already full. Ten promises, dated on paper. He had no day to spare, and no wish to haul for the sheriff's cousin. Before Eduardo could answer, something drifted down past the porch rail. A small cloud with a dip on one side, like a pillow sat on. A baby rode it. Rosy cheeks, bright eyes, tiny white dress. She landed soft on the top step. Her feet had gone heavy, and she knew to land. "I'm lost," the baby said. She looked up at both men. "Every cloud looks the same. My cheeks got warm." The hauling man stepped back. He stared at the baby, then at Eduardo, waiting. Eduardo knelt by the child. "You're Celeste," he said. He had heard of the baby who floated above the valley. "Your cloud sits over the hills west of here." "You'll help me home," Celeste said. It was not a question. "You have kind hands. I can tell." Eduardo looked from the baby to the man in the door. He saw the difference plain. One asked for help and needed it. One used a good deed as a hook to pull him back down. "No," Eduardo told the man. "I won't haul for you. My days are spoken for. Tell whoever you like. I gave that wood for no reward, and I won't buy your good word with a favor I don't owe." The man's smile dropped. "Folks will hear the old you turned me down." "Then they'll hear I meant it," Eduardo said. "Giving isn't a debt I owe the whole town." The man left angry. Eduardo lifted Celeste. Her cheeks had cooled already. He carried her to his truck and pointed the wheels west, toward the hills where her cloud waited.