The
By Katherine English
Chapter I
The lonely road stretched out before them in an
endless ribbon of asphalt, straight as an arrow, never winding until it
vanished over the low rise far to the north.
Young and frightened, quivering at what they were about to do, she
turned to him, her palms moist with nervous anticipation.
"What if this doesn't work?" she asked. "What if I fall flat on my face? I can't come home again. They'll never take me back. What'll I do?"
He held her then, in arms not yet filled by the solid
girth of a man, but with an embrace that spoke volumes about his tender
devotion to the love they shared.
Quietly he nuzzled the soft line of her throat, inhaling the scent of
her one last time…dreading the moment when the bus would make its way down the
long, dusty Arizona highway and take her from him forever.
His warm, brown eyes closed, trying to shut out the
possibilities. "If things get too
bad, I want you to call me, or write, and I'll come…I promise…no matter
what. If you need me, I'll find a way to
be there. I won't let you down
again."
She raised her eyes in the growing gloom, remembering
the time scant hours ago when they'd lain, close and touching, filling a few
stolen moments with a lifetime of longing.
Fate had a way of pressing the issue, she thought. Who could have known that such a bright
moment, the culmination of their love for one another, would have precipitated
so devastating a whirlwind of events in so short a time?
But it had.
And now there was no turning back.
"Have you got the money?" he asked for the
third time in less than an hour. "I
wish it was more, but…"
"Shhhh.
It's enough. I'll make it
last. I shouldn't be taking it
though. When your Father learns that you
cleaned out your savings account he'll be mad…even madder than he is now if
that's possible!" She smiled, an
empty gesture that failed to reach her pale blue eyes, but meant to alleviate
his crushing burden. "You've done
everything that you can…it's enough…it has to be. I have to take it from here…and I will."
Again he held her close, torn between his heart and
his responsibilities. "I want to
come with you, you know that, don't you?" he asked, repeating himself
again. "I want to be with you more
than anything else in the world! But if
I left…'specially now with Mom so sick, and the kids…her 'sister-wives' won't
care for them the way she would…"
Shaking her auburn curls, she pressed her finger
against his lips, stemming the flood that she knew lay behind his words. They'd had this conversation before, many
times, but now it seemed on a continuous loop…playing over and over like an
aging eight-track with no end in sight.
"You can't leave.
You know that, and I know that. I
understand," she said for the tenth time, her eyes scanning the horizon
once more. "Maybe some day
things'll be different…not so dictated by Brother Jacob… but right now you can't
leave…and I can't stay. It has to be
this way."
Then suddenly, far to the north, along the dark and
all- consuming track that thrust unerringly through the desert, the headlights
appeared.
The bus.
He drew her against him again, as if the protection of
his youthful embrace could somehow ward off what was to come…erase what had
been and give them another chance. But
it wasn't to be.
As the headlights grew larger, closer, she nestled in
the warmth of his arms one last time, memorizing the beat of his heart, the
clean-scrubbed scent of him filling her nostrils, knowing it would have to last
an eternity. A drop, wet and salty
drizzled down her cheek, rimming the outline of her lips. Was he crying, or were the tears her
own? It was a miracle that either of
them had a tear left to shed after so many had fallen in so short a time…but
there they were.
She started as he raised his arm, signaling the
conveyance to stop and take her from his sheltering warmth, to a place far
away, to the bustling city with its mean streets and puzzling mannerisms. She'd prepared herself for this moment,
braced herself for the last touch…the final word…but now it all fell apart at
her feet.
This was forever.
Slowly the bus ground to a halt before her, the driver
patiently waiting as they shared one last confirmation of love, a kiss, and
then she climbed the stairs leaving her memory already engraved on the backs of
his eyelids…on his heart.
"
The door closed, and she was at once alone in the
empty, frightening world, her blinding panic rising to the surface. Then the bus lurched, pulling forward, and
resuming its journey to the south leaving everything she'd ever known, a
lifetime of seclusion and innocence far behind.
In a few hours she would begin a new life.
It was time to grow up.
-------------------------------
12 years later
"Mom, how much longer is it going to be? This whole trip is like so totally
boring! Why couldn't we just get on a
plane like normal people? Why do we have
to drive through miles and miles of nothing just to get to a place that you
don't even want to be?"
Kerilynn turned, the strain of the past few days
evident in her demeanor, her fingers drumming nervously against the steering
wheel. "You can't get to
Sarah Jayne Martin pulled away, leaning heavily
against the door panel with an exasperated sigh. She knew how much this trip was costing her
Mother…knew the toll it had taken since the phone had rung 2 days ago informing
them that her elderly and ailing grandmother, a woman she'd never seen, was
dying.
The frail and fading woman had made a request to see
her estranged daughter for one last time, perhaps to make things right again,
perhaps to set to rest the differences that had separated them for the past 12
years. It was always a possibility.
Once more Sarah glanced over at her Mother, lost in
concentration behind the wheel of their aging Chevy, the gentle blue of her
eyes blurred behind a thin veneer of unshed tears. They still had hours on the road before their
journey took them across the state line into Arizona, to the tiny village
dominated by Jacob Calendar and his dream of a prescribed and righteous
world. It would be three long hours
before she would finally see the small isolated town she'd heard so little
about, tucked away in a remote corner of the "
They'd hurt her Mother in ways that the young widow
never wanted to discuss, ways that perhaps a girl of her tender age wouldn't be
able to understand, but she knew one thing.
If they could cause her Mother this much pain, then she hated them.
"Keep your eyes open for a good lunch stop,"
Kerilynn smiled, hoping to divert the perpetual argument that seemed to be
raising its ugly head once more.
"Maybe we can do better than fast food this time, ya think?"
Sarah heaved a sigh of frustration. She knew what her Mother was doing, it was
what she always did, the way she always faced up to uncomfortable issues ever
since her father had been killed in an auto accident more than two years ago. As she had done with the bright and smiling
love of her life, Kerilynn had a tendency to bury her problems as well…
simplifying and trivializing them until they could no longer be denied, and
eventually rose up to consume her. This
trip to
As the barren landscape flew by, Sarah found herself
thinking back to the time, two short days ago when the call from
Then the phone rang and a voice had asked for Kerilynn
Corman, her Mother's maiden name. She'd
been confused at first, no one ever referred to her Mother as
"Corman", but they had this time.
"Mom! You
have a call, someone named Rosetta Corman.
She says it's important!" she'd called upstairs. "Long distance!" Then, pausing, her hand over the speaker,
she'd waited until she heard the tell-tale click that would announce the fact
that her Mother had picked up on the extension before replacing the handset
back in its cradle.
A car honked in the distance. Her ride.
But suddenly the trip to the mall didn't seem as
important any more. Somehow, in some
inexplicable way, Sarah knew that the call was something serious…that her
Mother would need her. And so, running
out to the curb, she'd offered a lame excuse to her friends and waved off their
protestations. The mall could wait…but
right now her presence was needed elsewhere.
Sarah had returned to the house to find her Mother
sitting heavily on the edge of the bed, her face pale and drawn, her expression
lost in a world to which her daughter had no access.
"Mom?" she'd questioned, her voice
trembling. "Who was that? What's the matter?"
Kerilynn had paused, weighing how much to tell her
young daughter, then pressed ahead.
"It was an old friend," she said. "Someone I knew a long time ago, in
Sarah had hesitated, unsure of how much her Mother was
willing to reveal. New Hope was a
subject they usually passed over, relegated to their "topics to
avoid" column, but now there it was, knocking at the door, refusing to be
held at bay any longer.
"And you're going?" Sarah had asked, more a
confirmation than a question. "When
do we leave? Where is this place
anyway?"
"Right away," Kerilynn had responded. "I'll tell you all about it on the
way. I guess we have a lot to talk
about…"
--------------------------
And so the hours had crept by.
Kerilynn glanced nervously at her daughter once
again. Perhaps it hadn't been such a
great idea to take Sarah along with her on this trip to
When Shawn Martin had died on the interstate
twenty-eight months ago, he'd taken her whole world with him. Gone was the rock to which she'd clung for
twelve long years, her voice of reason in a world that whirled much too fast
for her to deal with. He'd been her
buffer…her interface with reality…and then, in a horrendous crush of metal and
glass, he was gone.
And she was alone.
At first she'd been in denial, then an overwhelming
numbness had set in that had all but threatened to cut her off from the world
around. It was only the knowledge that
she had a daughter to care for, someone who loved her, needed her, and who was
also dealing with the same loss that had finally called up her hidden reserves
and made her face the reality of the situation.
There were issues to be dealt with…a future to reconcile…and now it was
her responsibility to deal with them.
Alone.
At first she'd questioned her every decision, asking
herself "Is this what Shawn would do?" Eventually, however, she'd come to trust her
choices a little more, until finally she'd gone back to school with part of her
insurance settlement and begun the four-year program that would eventually lead
up to a teaching certificate. For the
first time in her life she was standing on her own two, shaking feet, setting a
course that would take them through the coming years…reveling in her newfound
confidence.
And now this.
Then, up ahead on the dusty access road a sign
appeared:
CARMELITA'S
THE BEST SONORAN-STYLE MEXICAN FOOD NORTH OF THE
BORDER. TAKE THE NEXT EXIT AND GO SOUTH
2 MILES
Kerilynn smiled.
The neat, brightly painted sign looked
promising. They needed a break
from the interstate anyway, and this seemed like a good opportunity.
Slowing, she edged her way into the exit lane and
headed along the off-ramp towards the poorly maintained two-laner that trailed
off to the south. Cactus and Joshua
Trees slid by as they rolled silently along, then finally, like a brightly
decorated oasis, the restaurant appeared beside the dusty roadway.
Decorated in the typical red-white and green of
Within minutes, a smiling, young
The soothing sounds of trickling water flowed from a
terra cotta fountain beside them as they made their choices from hand written
menus. The sign had been accurate, it
seemed, for the listings were both extensive and sumptuous. Keri chose the chicken fajitas, tortilla-
wrapped pieces of marinated chicken breast grilled over a mesquite flame with
thin slices of seared onions and peppers.
For Sarah the choice was more complicated. Should she choose a simple taco plate, or go
for the more filling chimichanga platter?
The thought of the long miles ahead helped her to decide. Who knew what, or when, her next meal would
be. So, thinking of the large,
deep-fried flour tortilla filled with spicy beef and smothered in guacamole,
sour cream and "pico de gallo", she ordered.
The waitress left momentarily, then returned with
their silverware, beverages, a large basket filled with deep-fried tortilla
chips and a gaily painted bowl of home-made salsa. Then, asking if there was anything else she
could do, she retired to what appeared to be the kitchen area.
A morning dove cooed its two-note overture in the
rafters above as mother and daughter diverted their attention toward the
trickling waterfall…their own silence enveloping them. It was time to clear the air…but where to
start?
It was Keri who broke the silence first, her heart
racing. What would her daughter think of
her, of her grandmother after she knew what
"Sarah," she began, tentatively. "Do you know what polygamy is? What it means?" She paused, waiting for some sign that her
daughter was following the conversation, then opened her mouth to continue.
"Of course I know what polygamy is, Mom. I'm not dumb!
Are you trying to tell me that you had more than one husband…that Dad
wasn't…?"
"No! Of
course not!" Kerilynn was startled
that her daughter could even conceive of such a possibility when her marriage
to Shawn Martin had been so perfect.
"But I need to explain something to you about
Now it was her daughter's turn to pause. Silently she stared, a salsa-laden tortilla
chip poised halfway to her lips, waiting for her mother to continue.
"
A huge glob of salsa hit the pristine tablecloth as
Sarah realized that she'd been holding her chip at half-mast during her
mother's explanation. A million
questions flooded her mind. Had her
father known? What had been her mother's
role in
"Is Grandma Corman a…?"
"Part of a 'plural' marriage? Yes, she is.
She has three 'sister wives'. The
woman who called, Rosetta Corman, is one of them. She's a good woman, a friend, I think you'll
like her."
Sarah gazed solemnly at her mother then, wondering if
she should ask her next question, if it would bring that all too familiar pain
once more to her mother's eyes. She
decided to risk it. She had to know.
"Mom…did Dad know about
Kerilynn scowled, remembering the night she'd met
Shawn Martin…a night that had changed her life forever. "Sarah, I never kept anything from your
father. No secrets. He knew about
They looked up as the raven-haired waitress brought
their meals and placed a basket of warm sopapillas and honey in the center of the
table. Then, setting a brimming glass of
Horchata in front of Sarah, she retreated behind the thick adobe walls of the
restaurant, leaving them alone once more.
"I left
"You see, arranged marriages are also common in
"Jacob Calendar!
But wasn't he older than you, I mean like an old man or something?"
Sarah breathed.
Her mother nodded.
"Older, yes. He was 65 at
the time. One of his wives had recently
passed away, and he wanted someone young and strong to take her place. He'd had his eye on me. It was supposed to be an honor, but I didn't
see it that way."
"That afternoon I sneaked away from the party
with the boy I told you about, and we hid in the barn talking. He couldn't bear the thought of giving up on
our dreams and allowing me to marry Brother Jacob any more than I could, but we
had no choice. We knew that what we felt
was futile, and so…"
Now Kerilynn paused, once again weighing how much she
could tell her daughter.
"You made love to him, didn't you, Mom?"
Sarah finished. "Like Romeo and
Juliette. You were in love, and you
wanted to be…together. Right?"
Kerilynn blushed.
This wasn't going to be quite as hard as she'd imagined, she sighed, but
still there was more to come. "We
were still in the barn…. together…when Brother Jacob and my parents came
looking for us. It was a big
scandal. Everyone was outraged. They decided that the marriage to Brother
Jacob had to take place right away, and that my boyfriend and I weren't to see
each other ever again."
At this she hesitated, watching her daughter's
expression, gauging the extent of her response.
"I thought…hoped that my Mother would speak up for me…tell them
that she wouldn't allow it. But she
didn't. Women don't have much of a voice
in New Hope, so my mother didn't even try."
Again, Keri paused, the silhouettes of the past
slipping through her mind. "That
night I ran away. I packed a small
suitcase and had my boyfriend drive me over to the highway to catch the
Interstate Bus to Los Angeles. I was
scared to death. When the door closed on
that bus I thought my life was over!
Then the bus driver and I started to talk. He was a nice man…a good man, and by the time
we'd gotten to the terminal in Los Angeles I'd told him my life story. Being the caring person that he was, and
realizing that I was too naïve to take care of myself at that point, he took me
to his mother's house and she took me in.
That was your Grandmother Martin.
The bus driver was…"
"…my Dad?" Sarah finished, her eyes
reflecting an understanding that Kerilynn had thought impossible for one so
young. "He was my Dad, wasn't
he? You fell in love and got married…and
you never went back to New Hope again.
Right?"
Her mother nodded, inhaling a deep cleansing breath
and letting it slip slowly from between her lips. It was done.
No more secrets. Her relief was
overwhelming.
Now, if facing what awaited her in New Hope could only
be half as easy…
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II
It was stuck!
Angrily Keri kicked at the stubborn tire, mired now up
to its hubcap in the soft sand along the shoulder of the seemingly lost and
forgotten trail.
"Why did this have to happen?" she murmured
repeatedly to herself.
"Why?" With New Hope a
mere stone's throw away, her nerves were already on high alert, and now
this! It just wasn't fair!
"Mom," Sarah began, her youthful patience
long since exhausted. "It's
buried. Talking to it isn't going to
help. The only thing we've been able to
do is get more stuck…so why don't we just walk into town for help?"
She knew her daughter was right. Sarah had an uncanny way of sorting out the
obvious that frequently belied her age.
Walking down the sandy slope to the tiny town nestled along the river's
edge was the only solution at this point.
But, what her daughter didn't know was how she'd feel returning to New
Hope after so many years on foot with her hat in her hands. No one could possibly know that. Not anyone.
Gathering her purse and the two small Samsonite cases
from the trunk, Keri looked down the hill toward New Hope once more. The time and distance that had filled the
interim was but a fleeting memory now as the past hit her full force. Once again she was a child, growing up in a
place where her life, her future was in the hands of Brother Calendar and the
elders. Quietly, as the desert breeze
blew her hair across her troubled eyes, she felt her confidence begin to waiver
and dissolve. This was going to be
hard…very hard, but like every other journey, it had to begin with the first
step.
Bracing herself for the trials that she knew awaited,
she helped Sarah on with her backpack and hefted the moderately stuffed bags
with her trembling hands. Dealing with
difficult issues had become a way of life in the past two years, and she felt
her new, embryonic strength coming to her rescue. She could do this. She had to.
Downward they trudged, her anxiety growing with each
step. The short trip down to the village
on the Virgin River was one of the longest Keri had ever taken. Already, curious Calendarites had begun to
fill the dusty little street, watching as the pair made their way down the
remote desert thoroughfare in the direction of the town.
Suddenly a woman, clad in the nondescript garb of a
Calendarite, broke free of the crowd and began to walk rapidly in their
direction…then shifted into an awkward run as a smile overcame her somber
features.
Years of child bearing and hard work had taken their
toll, but Kerilynn would have known her anywhere. There, running to greet her was Rosetta
Corman, the youngest of her father's wives, and once her best friend. Kerilynn was startled. Though only thirty-one, Rosetta's demeanor
displayed the physical appearance and resignation of a woman half again her
age. It was only in her eyes that Keri
could see the bright and sparkling friend of her youth, and the only sign to
welcome her back to New Hope.
"Keri!" Rosetta called, her ample belly
bouncing before her. "Ya came! I'm so glad!" she shouted, throwing her
arms around the neck of her long-absent friend.
In an instant the young matron had snatched one of the suitcases and was
merrily chatting away as though the years had passed unnoticed.
"Rosetta!
Give that back! You shouldn't be
carrying that. I mean, aren't you…"
"Pregnant?" the joyful woman answered, her
burgeoning load prominent before her.
"Sure, but then I'm always pregnant. Think it's my natural condition," she
giggled. "New Hope's a lot bigger'n
when ya left," she smiled, her hand lightly tapping her nonexistant
waistline. "And five of them are
mine."
"But I see I'm not the only mommy here," she
nodded gently, indicating the sullen-looking Sarah. "She looks just like you did at her
age." Then, wrapping her free arm
around Sarah's shoulders, she gave a big squeeze. "Honey, the boys around here are gonna
do cartwheels when they see you!"
Together they made their way down the shifting slope,
each carrying a part of the load, chatting excitedly about the mired vehicle,
the fickleness of fate, and the failing health of Keri's mother, Paulette
Corman. One would have thought that the years of separation had never happened…
but they had, and as the chattering pair neared the bottom of the grade the gap
became more and more apparent. There,
waiting among the tense and silent faces stood none other than Jacob Calendar,
the same rock-hard features, the same piercing eyes as she'd remembered during
her formative years, and just as frightening.
With one look from the founder, Rosetta became
instantly silent, her eyes downcast, her presence subdued and remote. It was apparent in just that single glance
that the stern and unwavering hold that Jacob Calendar had always held over his
followers had stood the test of time.
Silently he stood, his long shadow casting a pall over
the small gathering until finally he turned on his heel and strode without
speaking a word down the dusty roadway in the direction of the meeting house.
The elders broke free of the tiny crowd then, and
following their leader they made their way toward the small white building
where the patterns of life in New Hope were formed and formalized. Keri held her breath. She knew what the topic would be today…what
it had to be. By nightfall, Jacob
Calendar would be filling the doorway of her father's home, his face stern and
dogmatic, his eyes hard with resolution.
She would have to leave…and soon.
Keri turned to face Rosetta, but found her chatting
animatedly now with a number of young men and pointing excitedly up the hill
toward her mired vehicle. She saw them
smile and nod their heads, their eagerness to show their "colors"
more than evident. Even here the measure
of a man was so easily confused with his ability to wield a set of tools. She smiled.
Some things never changed.
Keri waited, her arm loosely draped across Sarah's shoulders
until Rosetta once again rejoined them, a satisfied look on her face. "The boys'll see to your car. Just give 'em a key, and they'll take care of
everything. Let's head on to the
house. Okay?"
Rosetta nodded as a couple of grade-schoolers snatched
up the suitcases and headed toward the neatly painted wood-frame house on the
edge of town. It was white now, not
"Desert Tan" as it had been when she'd left, but the effect was the
same. Low and rambling, it looked almost
identical at first, but as they closed the distance the differences became
apparent. A new extension had been
added…and another. Her father had
apparently prospered in her absence.
Ringer with painted river rocks, the front yard boasted a neatly planted
garden of flowering succulents: a large
ocotillo; a fishhook cactus and the queen of the desert, a large, well tended
saguaro standing regally over the lot. A
Mexican "bird of paradise", purple sage, "African" daisies
and desert poppies crowded in colorful profusion along the ground. Keri could immediately see Rosetta's hand in
it all. She'd always brought a bit of
color into the otherwise drab atmosphere of the Corman home, and her influence
now appeared everywhere.
Behind the pleasant structure peeked a small grouping
of fruit trees…citrus, olive and fig, and further yet, along the banks of the
river, Keri made out the neat furrows of a crop of some sort just turning the
brown soil into various shades of green.
Life had gone on as usual in her absence. She hadn't been missed.
Keri turned to find Rosetta studying her features with
a modicum of sadness.
"Rememberin'?" she asked quietly. "It must all seem so plain after Los
Angeles. Guess we're sorta frozen in
time here."
Keri shook her head, unable to say the words that came
to mind. Plain wasn't the adjective, the
feeling that greeted her as she took it all in.
"Peaceful" was the word that washed over her as the sights and
sounds of her childhood came flooding back.
The rhythmic whoosh of the windmill drawing water from the depths of the
earth, the slow moan of the breeze as it made it's way down the path to places
that most Calenderites would never see…it was like she'd seen and heard it all
just yesterday. Memories were such curious things. At that moment she could barely remember what
she'd eaten for lunch, but she knew with perfect certainty that tucked away in
the tiny wooden tool shed she'd find her father's gardening boots, muddy and
work-roughened, sitting in the far left corner.
Somewhere out of sight a cow let out an impatient
bellow, and chickens made their way eagerly towards them in hope of a quick
nibble before the trio made their way into the cool interiors of the house.
"Are you ready?" Rosetta asked quietly. "She was waiting when I left. Somehow she knew you'd be here today, she
just knew."
Keri "worried" her lower lip, then
nodded. It was time. She'd come all this way, suffered all these
long years with a hidden pain she shared with no one. Yes…it was time.
Slowly she placed first one foot and then the other
into the growing gloom of the "mud room", her eyes reflecting her
uncertainty, her hand nervously clasping that of her young daughter.
Rosetta pushed ahead, quickly opening the interior
door and allowing the bright sunlight from within to light their way through
the gloom. Then she came to an abrupt
halt.
"Paulette!
What in the world're ya doing?" Rosetta scolded. "You're supposed to be in bed!"
Paulette Corman froze, her gaze fixed and troubled as
she focussed on her daughter, her hands coated with flour as they hovered above
the glistening mound of sweet dough before her.
"Keri", she murmured lamely, at a loss for
words now that the moment had arrived.
Trembling, she took a step toward the door, then
stopped, her sticky hands gesturing uselessly in the air. Her eyes misted, and she quickly turned
towards the sink and began to rinse the evidence of her industry from her palms
and fingers.
"I was making cinnamon rolls," she explained
weakly, searching desperately for something to fill the silence. "Do you still like them as much as you
used to?"
Keri nodded, her mouth dry and barren. "I do…" she replied, her voice
cracking. "Y-you always made the
best…" Suddenly the room faded from
view, filling with gentle, unshed tears as her feet quickly closed the
seemingly immeasurable gap between them.
They held each other then, tentatively at first, and finally with a
desperation that only time could erase.
"I've missed you so much, Keri…so much. Every day…everyday. I was so afraid you wouldn't come, but I had
to try." The pale-faced older woman
held her at arm's length now, as though searching for the ravages of more than
a decade in the world beyond.
"Mom?"
It was Sarah, shaken and uncertain at the tender
reunion, thrown by the intense desperation which played out before her. "Is this Grandma Corman?"
It was only then that Keri noticed the weak and
quaking stature of the fragile woman in her arms, the clammy chill of her
mother's cheek pressing against her own.
Gratefully, Rosetta stepped in and took charge of the
situation. "Paulette, you need to
get back into bed. I'll finish the
rolls. You're not supposed to be up, and
you know it!" she scolded lovingly.
"Besides, I love your cinnamon rolls too, and I think we need at
least three times this much if we're all going to have our fill," she
joked.
Rosetta wrapped an arm around Paulette's waist, the
thick fall of her brown hair concealing the worried expression which crept
across her features as she guided her sick "sister wife" toward the
large bedroom at the back of the house.
The bed, neatly covered by a hand-sewn Indian Star
quilt, had been made and showed no signs of being part of a
"sick-room". Had it not been
for her mother's obvious ill health, Keri would have almost thought the summons
a ruse, an excuse to bring her back to this place, to this world. Quickly, Rosetta peeled back the coverlet and
guided the faltering woman into its sheltering warmth. Then turning, she
motioned to Sarah. "Sugar, how'd ya
like to help me with the rolls? It's a
tradition, ya know, mother to daughter and on down the line. Yer Grandma Corman's own family recipe. Guess
today's your turn. Whatcha think?"
Sarah swallowed, her throat dry, her eyes fixed on the
figure of her mother sitting so vulnerable on the edge of her grandmother's
bed, then nodded. They needed time
alone, so she'd play the game, roll, slice and bake the sticky confections, and
when her mother was ready she'd ask the questions that screamed through her
young mind. There was time for her
later, but this moment belonged to the tender reunion which lay birthing before
her. She and her own mother had all the
time in the world…
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter III
The sign on the interstate read "Exit #8: Beaver Mountain Preserve…5
miles", but that was to the northwest.
To the south lay the abandoned remains of old highway 91, left to the fleeting
mercy of the wilderness that surrounded it.
There was a time when that singular piece of highway had carried excited
travelers from the north on toward carefree destinations in Las Vegas and Los
Angeles…but no longer. Interstate #15
had seen to that.
The small collection of dilapidated motels, long since
boarded up and forgotten, greeted him as he turned south on old #91. A sign… faded and crumbling heralded a now
defunct roadside mecca:
"GOOD EATS.
GET YOUR UFO INFORMATION HERE.
LAST GAS BEFORE LAS VEGAS".
A large, weather-beaten mailbox, labeled in block
lettering, well kept and precise, stood alone as the sole harbinger of the
dusty, isolated town of New Hope. He
smiled. Nothing had changed.
The blacktop ahead was pitted and intermittently
choked with tumbleweed, a far cry from its heyday. One would think the small Arizona highway
sign declaring this road an "unmaintained dead end" was correct, for
in fact it bore all the symptoms of something dead and forgotten…but not
so. Not to him. He knew better.
Depressing the clutch on his Durango, Jim Calendar
downshifted, slowed and wove his way around the gaping potholes that had
thrived and proliferated in his absence.
Floods had come, droughts had followed, and the Virgin River had taken
its toll. Erosion was everywhere. It was hard to believe that somewhere down
this deserted, time-weary tract lay the small village of New Hope…lost to the
outside world…closed off to all but the faithful followers of the revered Jacob
Calendar.
Creosote and saltbrush lined the thoroughfare, with
cottonwoods, willows and the rarer tamarisk trees hugging the shoreline of the
precious tributary that wound its way through the desert. The Virgin River, a year-round source of
water, was the life-blood of all it surveyed.
Teaming with Virgin River dace, woundfin, and round-tailed chub, its sun-warmed
depths spelled existence itself for the mule deer, coyotes and javalinas of the
area, as well as a thousand other desert-hardy species.
It was partly because of the river's close proximity,
and partly because of the area's isolation that Jacob Calendar had made his way
here so many years ago. Now firmly
entrenched, the village of New Hope lay, self-sustained, beyond the reach of
all but the most deliberate traveler…a tiny speck in the wilderness, asking nothing
from the outside world except the right to be left alone. Run by the firm hand of Brother Calendar, it
was a dream for many…but not for all.
A jagged bevy of quail charged willy-nilly across the
broken pavement, forcing the Durango toward a massive sinkhole on the right
shoulder. The vehicle lurched, bounced,
then came to a dusty halt along the edge of the roadway. Jim paused, his warm, brown eyes taking in
the steep embankment mere inches to his right.
That was close…too close. He'd
have to be more careful.
Quickly he glanced into the back seat, scanning its
occupant for signs of harm, then sighed.
Great. Jeremy was still sleeping
and none the worse for wear. Good thing
he'd insisted that his young son strap on his seatbelt, even for a nap.
Slowly he began to shift gears, then hesitated, his
smile lingering on the sleeping child for a moment longer. How much like his mother he looked, the same
long lashes, butter-blond hair, the same deep, blue eyes. But that was where the similarity
stopped. Where Caroline Calendar had
been carefree and footloose, a blithe spirit that could never find peace in the
mundane world of parenthood and domesticity, Jeremy was a frightened young man
in an even more frightening world. In an
environment rife with school shootings, drug pushers and street violence, the
fragile 8-year-old was an innocent…a lamb in a tangled forest of wolves. Perhaps this summons to New Hope had been a
blessing in disguise. Only time would tell.
Carefully he pulled back onto the road, laughing to
himself as he compulsively turned to watch for traffic. Who did he expect to find whizzing down that
lost and forgotten roadway? Certainly
nothing with four wheels!
Once more he began to cover the dusty miles between
the Interstate and the tiny town of New Hope, his mind wandering as each
familiar twist and turn made itself known.
There, that spot over by the bend in the river… wasn't that where he and Keri had gone
swimming that hot July afternoon? And
over there…that copse of trees…wasn't that the exact spot where the elders had
caught him smoking corn silk with Johnny Morgan when he was 13? He wasn't sure, but he thought it was. It had all been so many years… so many
lifetimes ago.
That brought up the question that had been plaguing
his mind for the past two days. Why,
after all this time, had Paulette Corman summoned him to New Hope? Why, on her deathbed, had she chosen to dust
off the skeletons that time had so neatly packed away?
The possibilities whirled in his mind, coaxing
memories of from the secret cache to which they'd been relegated, forcing
hidden truths back to the surface once more.
The world of Jacob Calendar wasn't perfect, not even
close. The fabric of New Hope was woven
from stern stuff, strict adherence to the Faith of The Founder and unquestioning
obedience to his interpretation of Divine Law.
Only those who followed in his path were allowed to remain. All others found their way to Interstate #15
and faded into obscurity.
Over the years, New Hope had become more and more
cloistered, wrapped in self-isolation, until finally it appeared to have no use
for the outside world at all.
Essentially self-contained, the "Calendarites" had come to
shun contact with other communities to the point where only Jacob Calendar and
a few chosen elders themselves made the semiannual trip to Colorado City to
barter for the few supplies that couldn't be produced locally.
New Hope offered a simple life, one devoid of the
hustle and bustle of the modern-day world.
Here the homes were large, filled with the industrious flow of
"sister-wives" and the innocent laughter of children. No antennas adorned the rooftops in this
place, no satellite dishes sprouted on the lawn. Instead, the Calendarites found their
pleasure in each other…in the communion of kindred souls. If personal freedoms were at a premium,
particularly among the female population… wasn't it a small price to pay?
Now THAT was the question…an important one.
Jim Calendar reflected on his own reasons for leaving
this "Eden" of the western world.
Would it be any different now?
Was he any different?
Again he glanced at the sleeping form of his son,
snuggled beneath a woolen throw on the back seat of the Durango. New Hope was a good place for a boy to grow
up. He knew that from personal
experience. Its "back to
basics" approach to education and family values brought you closer to the
important things in life. There was no
crime here, no violence, no need for locks on the doors. Drugs, pornography, hate crimes were unheard
of…they simply didn't exist. Jacob
Calendar kept a tight rein on his minions.
It was either his way or the highway.
Boys in New Hope were brought up to respect both their
elders and the beliefs to which the community adhered. They were given a solid education in the
one-room schoolhouse until they reached their eighteenth birthday, at which
point most were apprenticed to one of the village tradesmen until they reached
the age of 21. It was then that they
were allowed to select a first wife.
A few promising souls, however, were sent to colleges
in Phoenix to complete their formal education in teaching, law, business or
medicine, depending on the needs of the community at the time. Jim Calendar had been one of the chosen few,
but his unplanned departure from the small village soon after his senior year
at college had abruptly ended his future there and doomed him to exile in the
cold world beyond the highway.
Girls were not as fortunate in New Hope. Theirs was a life of simplicity, of limited
options. A female's education usually
stopped shortly after her 16th birthday, at which time she was given
the test battery for a General Education Diploma in order to appease the
education department of the State of Arizona.
Her life then became one of domesticity until she was spoken for by one
of the men of the village, and her father arranged for her marriage.
Elders had priority in this matter, and it was not
unusual for a new bride to share her nuptial bed with a man many years her
senior. In this there was no
choice. The only place for a Calendarite
woman was in the home, caring for her husband and raising the next generation,
side-by-side with as many sister-wives as her husband chose to take.
According to Jacob Calendar, this was the natural
order of things…and so it was. The
seemingly idyllic innocence of New Hope was not without price, and there were
those who had found the cost exorbitant…and left.
The old highway continued on until the Virgin River
once more curved close to the shoulder and a dirt road veered off to the
east. A small sign, almost
indistinguishable, stood as a lost and lonely sentinel here, announcing this as
the trail to Elbow Canyon and the Paiute Wilderness. Again the familiarity washed over him. These were names he knew, names he'd grown up
with. He was almost there now… almost
home.
Carefully, he coaxed the Durango across the groaning
one-lane bridge that traversed the liquid heart of the desert, listening ever
so carefully for the wood-shattering sounds that might spell an abrupt end to
his journey. But none came. He was safe…this time.
The road began to dwindle once more, its shoulders
vanishing in a confluence of tumbleweed and cholla, but not nearly as much as
the tiny, almost indiscernible tract that branched away to the north. Except for a recent break in the underbrush,
he would have missed it entirely. Here
the trail resembled the minute pathways left behind by foraging animals… hardly
a road at all, and yet there lay the tracks of a vehicle…one set…heading back
along the river's edge toward the small town that lay beyond.
Jim took a hard left and shifted into 4-wheel drive as
he continued on toward his destination, smiling softly as one by one the sights
and sounds of his childhood crowded in around him.
The track, sandy in some places, boggy in others,
climbed the last low slope before heading into the village proper. Confident now, he pressed heavily on the
accelerator, urging the massive conveyance up and over the last rise…and that's
when he hit it.
There, buried up to its hubcaps in shifting sand, sat
an old Chevy, its occupants gone, abandoned much as the roadway had been…but
much more recently. His right front
bumper now sat crunched into the aging auto's left rear fender, its white paint
scraped and crackled, its red taillight suddenly a smattering of fragmented
shards atop the soft desert surface.
"Damn!" he swore. He hadn't had an accident in ten years…and
now, here on an almost deserted stretch of riverbank he has a "fender
bender". Incredible!
Angrily, he stepped out of the Durango and approached
the disabled Chevy, murmuring something about not taking the blame for this
"bozo's" negligence.
"Dad?", a small voice followed
sleepily. "Are we there yet?"
Jim Calendar turned to face his son. It was time he woke up anyway, they were
almost there. Already in the distance he
could pick out the shape of the small cluster of houses along the embankment
that made up New Hope.
"Almost, Jeremy, " he began. "We just had a little problem here. Nothing to worry about," he added,
noticing the conspicuous widening of his son's eyes at the mention of a
"problem". "Someone just
got stuck in the sand and left their car too close to the road. I tapped their fender, that's all. It's an easy problem to fix…nothing to worry
about," he repeated, watching his son's features tighten anxiously.
"But, won't they be mad?" the boy replied,
visions of armed, road-raging motorists passing before his eyes. "Would they try to hurt us, Dad?"
he asked, his voice small and trembling.
Immediately Jim felt a twinge over the anger he'd
experienced when he'd collided the Chevy.
How could he expect to leave the sins of the outside world behind if he
carried them along with him? Silently he
bent and lifted his son up to sit on the fender of the Durango, his eyes now
level with those of the frightened child.
"Jeremy, I want you to listen to me," he
said, his voice coached in the soft tones of a loving father. "This is New Hope, not Phoenix. Things are different here…people are
different. Sure, they might get angry,
but they won't go crazy over it. You
have to trust me on this. I wouldn't lie
to you about something as important as that…you know I wouldn't."
He hugged the frightened boy then, feeling the vague
trembling beneath his blue and red super heroes tee-shirt, and hoping that
someday his son would be able to face a day without fear as he had before
"the incident". But that was
somewhere down the road…not here, and not now.
Today Jim Calendar was grateful to take one day at a time, to relish
each tiny breakthrough as a miracle and hope that more grew from the fertile
ground already plowed. The fear that his
son lived with had been forced upon him abruptly, but it would take a long time
to pass. Until then Jim would be patient
and loving, providing the security and support that was needed, ministering to
the wounds that his son harbored deep within.
Someday Jeremy Calendar would be the happy, carefree
child he'd once been. It would happen,
if not today, then tomorrow. If not in
Phoenix, then perhaps here…on the Arizona Strip.
Setting his jaw, he stuck a hastily scribbled note
under the windshield wiper of the Chevy, then turned to face his son. It was time to confront Jacob Calendar, the
aging backbone of New Hope…time to see if he could set the old wrongs to right
and make a place among them once more…for his son's sake. It was time to go home.
"Come on, Jeremy," he said, placing the
wide-eyed child in the front seat.
"Let's get started again.
It's time to meet your grandfather."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter IV
It was so quiet in the room, so deathly still. Mother and daughter sat, sharing space and
time…each seeking desperately to exorcise the pain they'd carried so heavily in
their hearts for so long. Questions that
had whirled noisily in Keri's mind for over a decade now fell silent, mute in
the face of reality. They were so close,
and yet the gap between them had become a yawning, treacherous chasm that
neither knew how to cross.
It was perhaps her more acute sense of dwindling time
that prompted the older woman to take the first tentative steps between them,
or perhaps the worn acceptance that second chances are rare in the real world,
but finally, reaching for Keri's hand she began to speak.
"I'm glad you brought Sarah with you," she
whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
"I've wanted to see her for so long, but I didn't think I had the
right." She smiled then, a warm
glow settling comfortably over her features, the tension easing from her
eyes. "She has your hair. I knew she would, but the photos never did
her justice. She's beautiful, Keri…beautiful."
Keri was startled.
Photos? Where had her mother seen
photos?
"I don't understand, Mom," she replied, her
eyebrows arched in surprise. "Where
did you see photos of Sarah? I've never
sent any…"
"In the dresser drawer," Paulette
directed. "The top one…there's a
little wooden box in the front right-hand corner. Would you get it for me?"
Puzzled, Keri rose and crossed to the ancient chest of
drawers that sat dominating the far wall of her mother's room. Then, opening the very top, she reached
inside and took hold of the small, wooden box that lay waiting precisely where
her mother had said it would, as though anticipating her arrival.
"This?" she questioned, raising the box
before her. "Is this what you
want?" she asked with a wordless
certainty that belied the question, each following the prescribed
formula of such conversations.
Her mother nodded, the muted gleam in her eyes one
that heralded the sight of an old and welcomed friend. "Open it, Keri…I want you to…" she
directed almost breathlessly.
"What's in there…it's meant so much to me…so much. I want you to see…"
Slowly Kerilynn lowered herself onto the corner of the
bed, its metallic protestations creeping through the silence, and opened the
carved lid on its tiny brass hinges. She
paused, thunderstruck as a thin collection of photographs caught her eye.
There, in the muted stillness of the room, tucked
neatly into a small mesquite-wood box, sat the image of her daughter at the age
of five, on her first day of school.
Trembling, she reached out her hand, gently removing
the tiny ribbon-bound package from its resting-place and tugging at its bindings. Immediately, a photographic record of her
daughter's life opened before her.
Amazed, she turned to her mother for an explanation.
The older woman smiled. "I got the first one eleven years
ago," she began. It came in the
mail…no return address on that first one…just a note and an inscription on the
back. I was hoping it was from
you…"
Kerilynn turned over the oldest photo, that of a baby,
her own Sarah as a newborn, and stared at the scribbled notation on the back:
Your Granddaughter
Sarah Jayne Martin
Age: 2 hours
She recognized the writing in an instant, her breath
coming in shallow gasps as the ghosts crowded in around her. It was Shawn's writing, she'd know his
impossible scrawl anywhere. But when…why
hadn't he said anything? One by one she
leafed through the small packet: Sarah, her first tentative step; Sarah in
front of a birthday cake, a single candle flickering in her eyes; Sarah atop a
Shetland pony…her second birthday. And
so it went, halting abruptly two years ago with a picture of Sarah standing
happily in the surf at Puerto Penasco during their Mexican vacation.
She knew what came next…what was missing. Absent was the image that could never quite
leave Keri's memory… Sarah, at her father's funeral, her eyes swollen almost
shut with grief, her face pressed forlornly against Keri's black dress seeking
the consolation that they both needed so desperately.
All too vividly she remembered how hard it had been to
stay strong for her daughter, to maintain the illusion that they'd be all
right, but in fact she'd felt just as insecure.
Days had gone by, each melting into the void that Shawn Martin had left
behind. Bills rolled in, more than adequately
met by the generous insurance settlement that Shawn had been so adamant about
maintaining. But she'd known the money
wouldn't last forever. She knew all too
acutely now that nothing did.
Days had passed, then weeks. She saw him everywhere, heard his voice
guiding her through the silence of her lonely existence. She could almost believe he was there on that
day almost six months later saying "Get on with it, Keri. It's time to move on." And so she had. Shawn had never let her down.
The next day she'd pulled herself up by her
bootstraps, brushed her dull and neglected tresses, applied make-up for the
first time in months and gone to the registrar's office of UCLA. There she'd begun the first step towards her
new life. To say that she'd never looked
back would be a fallacy. She'd looked
back countless times, sought the solace of Shawn's arms at every turn, but on
she'd forged. It was what he'd want…what
she needed to do, and so once more she took a step into the unknown…a one-way
trip into the future.
Fighting back the tears, Keri looked up at her mother,
lying pensively before her. "It
wasn't me, Mom. It was Shawn, my
husband. He sent them. I never knew…"
Her mother cleared her throat. "All these years I fantasized that they
were from you, but I knew they weren't, not really. The writing was so different. And then they suddenly stopped. You have no idea how that felt, as though I'd
lost you all over again. Getting those
photos meant so much to me. He must have
been a very kind man."
Slowly, Keri shook her head, searching inside for the
words she hated so much.
"Shawn's…dead, Mom. He died
two years ago in an auto accident. A
drunk driver jumped the highway median and hit him head-on."
Keri felt her mother's hand slowly close over her own,
a silent bond opening wordlessly in the shifting sunlight of the room. Through all of it…through the years and the
vague protestations that she'd left New Hope in the past, he'd known. He'd left the door open for her…the way home.
"I know, Keri…I know," her mother
replied. "When the photos stopped
coming I began to worry. Then I
remembered the photo of Shawn and Sarah together, him in his bus driver's uniform,
and I took a chance and called the Bus Company to leave him a message. I had his name, you see, a return address on
the last few pictures, and they told me of the accident. I wanted to call you so much, Keri, really I
did. I just didn't know if you'd want to
hear from me."
Once more Keri stared at the visible memories, lying
in her lap like tiny windows to the past.
"I should have been the one to send them, Mom. I guess Shawn knew me better than I did
myself. It's been hard…"
"Shhhh," her mother soothed. "I know, and I know why you
couldn't. I never blamed you, Keri. Never.
I could have gone with you that night, I should have, but I was too
afraid to go beyond the highway. So
instead of standing up for you, I made excuses…why you were wrong to go, how I
couldn't have gone with you, but all along I knew I was just hiding. I was born here, Keri, and Ill die here. I don't know anything else." She paused then, her eyes filled with
remorse. "Forgive me…please?"
Keri was silent as all of the resentment she'd
harbored for her mother all of those long years faded into the growing shadows
of the room. How could she hold her long-preserved grievances against her mother,
when the frail and caring woman held so much against herself? There needed to be an end to guilt…an end to
the pain, and this was the last chance.
She felt her Mother's hand, pale and withered, aged
prematurely by the cancer that was destroying her body, and the tears began to
flow. It was time, time to settle with
the past, to finally bury the hurt and pain she'd left behind. Time to forgive.
The dry heat of her Mother's cheek brushed against her
own as she curled her arms around the shivering, bedridden woman. The relief…oh the relief was almost tangible
as the walls came tumbling down around them and a new, stronger bond formed in
their place. Words had no place here,
the pale murmurings that humans share fell by the wayside, gray and inadequate as their eyes said it
all. It was a metamorphosis, a butterfly
released from its cocoon, soaring free at last.
They sat that way, in silence, letting time pass them
by in unknown quantities until finally a tap at the door brought them back to
the present.
It was Sarah.
"Mom? There's some man here
to see Grandma Corman. He says his name
is Jim Calendar. Is he related to…?'
At the sound of his name, Keri's eyes flashed and the
discomfort she'd experienced hiking down from her car resumed once again. She'd known he'd be here, the son of the
founder, the eventual heir to the throne.
But couldn't he, they, have given her just a few more hours before they
sent their henchman to tell her that her stay in New Hope was now terminated?
She swallowed, her voice betraying her as he entered
the room, a frightened boy of perhaps eight clinging to his hand. His eyes darkened then, taking her in with a
startled glance, his hand stroking the pale blond of the child's hair as though
to sooth his own rampaging emotions.
"Keri?
It's been a long time. I sort of
figured I'd run into you while I was here, but I hadn't expected to run into
you so soon. How've you been?"
"Hadn't expected…run into you?" What was he saying? Hadn't he spent the last twelve years here,
in New Hope, preparing himself to step into his Father's footsteps somewhere
down the line?
"I don't understand, Jim. You don't live here? New Hope isn't your home anymore?"
Now it was Jim Calendar's turn to register
surprise. Cautiously his gaze shifted
from Paulette Corman, and back to Keri once more. "Didn't your Mother tell you?" he began
slowly. "She sent for me."
Paulette Corman shifted uncomfortably in her bed, her
eyes growing dark and thoughtful.
"I wronged you both before you left, Keri, and I need to know
things are all right now. It's something
I had to do. Can you understand?"
Keri turned once more toward her former lover, a
forgotten sadness filling her demeanor.
"It's been a long time, Jim.
It's g-good to see you again," she stammered, her eyes taking in
the changes that time had wrought in his strong, virile body. He looked good…very good. Gone was the slim, hesitant boy of her youth,
replaced instead by a man of confidence…substance. The years had been kind to Jim Calendar, and
try as she might, Keri couldn't quell the
tremors that his presence evoked deep in the pit of her stomach.
Silence filled the room as she stroked the back of her
Mother's hand with her thumb, wondering what was going through Jim Calendar's
mind at that moment. Her thoughts faded,
though when she felt the gentle reassuring squeeze of the frail palm in her
own.
"Keri," her Mother began, "Could you
leave Jim and I alone for a little bit?
There are things I want…need to say.
Things that for the moment are only his to hear. Would that be all right?"
Softly, Keri got to her feet, her grip loosening
uncertainly, and crossed to the door.
"Sure, Mom. I'll just be out
in the kitchen if you need anything."
Then, closing the door behind her she left her Mother
to the tender mercies of Jim Calendar.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 5
Keri was elbow deep in sweet dough when she heard the
mud room door close noisily amid the muted chatter of the kitchen. Quickly she turned her head, her breath
catching in her throat as she took in the sight of her father, striding across
the floor in her direction as though twelve years had never passed at all.
His hair was gray now, his face rugged with long years
in the Arizona sun. His huge hands,
never gentle, were more work-roughened than even she remembered them. He looked healthy, though, the raw-boned
physique of a man who'd worked hard all of his life, and would continue to do
so far into the future. But…it was the
cold blue of his eyes that sent memories crowding around her. The stern looks he gave her when she'd had
the audacity to disobey…the icy blue glare when she'd been found wanting, the
shuttering coldness that had closed the chapter on her life in New Hope were
still there. These were her most vivid
memories of her Father, and Keri couldn't help but cringe at the current state
of affairs.
"Keri," he began, his face stern and
controlled. "I heard you were
here. There was a meeting, you know…the
elders. They know why you're back, and
that Paulette doesn't have long to go.
So, they've decided to let you stay until…"
It was then that Keri noticed the almost imperceptible
crack in his voice, the hesitation that she'd never heard before. Had it always been there? Was it something she'd missed in her youthful
self-absorption, or was it new, a product of life and pending loss? Had Isaac Corman at last found something he
had no way to deal with in his tightly controlled little world?
She heard her own voice then, somehow older in her
ears than she'd expected, grown now and lacking the hesitancy of her
childhood. "Father," she
began, wanting in some incredible way to reach out to him, "I understand,
and I thank you for letting me know. May
I stay here at home with my daughter until I leave? Perhaps I can help in some way."
"Help?' the elder Corman spat. "What can you do that you shouldn't have
done years ago? Yes, stay. Of course.
I won't have people saying that I turned my own daughter away. But when this is…over…I want you gone. This house… New Hope… isn't your home
anymore." And with that he turned
and strode massively from the room, taking the very air with him, heading in
the direction of her Mother's bedroom.
Keri punched nervously at the sweet dough that rested
on the floured board before her. Nothing
had changed. Nothing would ever change,
could ever change…not in New Hope.
Flipping the dough over and smoothing it with
shortening-slick fingers, she placed it in a huge ceramic bowl and covered it
with a clean dishtowel to rest. Then,
setting it in a warm spot on the counter by the stove, she turned to Sarah and
gestured with her sticky, white hands toward the sink with it's ancient pump
handle.
"Let's wash up," she offered, "We can
take a walk by the river while the dough rises.
I'll show you where I used to swim when I was your age." Then, turning toward the sink, Keri began
pumping water over her daughter's hands, filling a wash basin, and scrubbing
the caked flour from her own. It seemed
so strange to use a pump once again after so many years, but as though time had
never passed, each renewed experience at once fell back into place, part of a
never-changing landscape that formed the village of New Hope.
The afternoon sun beat down, warm and dry upon their
faces as they made their way out into the front yard. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. There, in the bright blue day, sat her car,
released from its sandy prison and waiting her arrival. But what was that? A broken taillight? And the rear fender…what in the world? Then she saw the tiny scrap of paper wedged
under the wiper blade, its edges caught in the breeze like a moth seeking a reprieve
from the scrutiny of the day. A note?
Quickly Keri snatched the torn scrap from the
windshield and began to read:
Sorry I hit your car. I couldn't see that you'd left it in the
middle of the track until I hit the top of the rise. I'm down the hill in New Hope. Look me up and I'll make it right-------Jim
Calendar
Jim Calendar!
It was Jim, her Jim who'd caused this.
Slowly she walked over to the maimed and broken vehicle, her fingers
running almost gently over the crumpled metal.
Yes, the Jim she'd known would make it right. Even as a young man he'd always carried the
world on his shoulders…made everything right.
It was a part of his fabric, a part of him. Like New Hope, that would never change.
Quietly she tucked the scrap in her pocket and turned
with her daughter toward the banks of the Virgin River, thoughts of her
youthful love filling her mind. He'd
changed so much in twelve years, his shoulders broadened, the hint of afternoon
stubble on his face, his demeanor competent and assured. It was hard, looking at the solid composition
of the man he'd become, that he could ever have been the boy she'd loved so
dearly. But, finally, it was his eyes
that had told her the truth. In the ways
that really counted, he was the same young man who had defied Jacob Calendar, a
monumental feat, for her sake. And now,
here they were again. Time had come full
circle.
And who was the boy, his son? Was there now a Mrs. Jim Calendar tucked away
somewhere in the world beyond the highway?
The thought sent a tiny twinge of jealousy through her body. Silently she rebuked herself. What did it matter? Whatever they'd shared had flowed like the
deep, clear river, far beyond their reach.
Life had moved on, his and hers, and there'd been a loving husband and
another woman filling the interim. Their
moment in the sun had passed, fleeting and irretrievable.
Gratefully, the blazing glare of sunlight fell away as
they passed beneath a pecan tree on the hillside above the river. She could remember harvesting the sweet
delicacies for her Mother's homemade pecan pie when she was a child, her mouth
watering in anticipation. Keri's lips
curled downward, the edges hardening as though to stop the flow of her
thoughts. There would be no more pecan
pies from the talented hands of Paulette Corman, no cinnamon rolls, no gentle
consolation in the wee hours of the night.
Time had indeed moved on.
"Why don't we sit here, Mom?" Sarah asked,
her eyes far too old for her young body.
Once again she'd seemed to read her Mother's thoughts, her Mother's
needs. It wasn't the river that called
Keri, it was the peace and solitude of her memories that had brought her to
this place. And here, beneath the tree,
they seemed to gather around her like tiny treasures.
Slowly they bent, and brushing the sparse scattering
of pecans from the grassy moat at the base of the tree they settled down to
share a moment together.
"That was him, wasn't it?" Sarah asked, her
voice so reminiscent of her grandmother's.
"That Jim Calendar. He's 'Romeo",
isn't he?"
Keri was startled.
Was it that obvious? She'd have
to learn to keep her feelings more in check if she was to remain in New Hope
for any length of time.
"Yes, that's him…'Romeo'," she laughed
lightly. "Only, don't call him
that."
They laughed together then, the relief overwhelming…a
much-needed catharsis.
Sarah smiled,
her jovial tone bent on prolonging the moment to its maximum. "MMM, Mom! And was he this cute when he was a kid?"
"Cute!"
Now it was Keri's turn to tease.
"What do you know about 'cute'?
You're eleven years old, just wait a few years. I'm not ready for you to be asking me about
'cute' boys yet!"
"Oh, Mom!
Believe me…I'm an old maid in this day and age! And besides, I'm just young, not blind! That guy's a hunk, and the way he looked at
you…"
"Sarah!
He's a married man. Didn't you
see his son there? He has a life
elsewhere, and so do I. We're not kids
anymore. I'm not even sure that we're still friends…"
"Well…I hope we're at least friends, Keri."
Kerilynn froze, her eyes widening as the voice of Jim
Calendar caressed her senses. How long
had he been standing there, masked by the sound of the breeze in the tree
overhead? How much had he heard?
"And, no…I'm not married, at least not
anymore. See, no ring," he
murmured, holding up his left hand for her inspection. "But this is my son." Then, turning to the frail, blond child he
continued. "Say hello to
Mrs.…?"
"Martin," Keri finished, addressing the
curiously frightened child. "But
call me Keri, okay? Everyone does. What's your name?"
The boy tightened his grip on his father's hand, his
eyes nervous and unsure. It was as
though a tiny cloud had passed over the sun.
Trying to make light of the situation, his father ruffled his
butter-blond hair and laughed.
"He's just a little shy. His
name's Jeremy, and he's pleased to meet you.
Aren't you, Son?"
Jeremy's focus remained steadfast, his gaze glued to
the grip of his father's hand as though this last bit of security could vanish
in an instant if his vigilance wavered.
Jim pretended not to notice his son's hesitancy, and
directed his attention toward Sarah instead.
"Now, this is someone I've seen before, back in Paulette's
kitchen. Do you have a name there,
Princess?"
Sarah preened.
Somewhere along the way Jim Calendar had found a facility with the
fairer sex, it seemed, and it looked as though he'd won over the younger Martin
with just a few syllables.
"Princess!" she smiled. "I'm not a princess. I'm Sarah Martin. Pleased to meet you," she responded,
determined to show that unlike her male counterpart, she, at least, was no
shrinking violet.
"Ah…I figured as much. Your Mother's hair was exactly the same shade
at your age. Just beautiful."
Sarah stood then, as always reading the situation with
wisdom beyond her age, and offered her hand to the fragile child who clung
desperately to his father's arm.
"Hey, Jeremy. Wanna go down
and see if we can spot any fish? Bet
there's frogs and lizards there too.
Wanna?"
Sarah's voice was gentle, reassuring, as though she
understood the younger child's special needs.
Jim felt his son's hand tighten around his own, indecision warring
across Jeremy's young brow. Then, miracle
of miracles, he felt the small grip loosen and finally fall away.
"Maybe…" he whispered, apparently tempted at
the prospect of snagging a fat river frog.
"But not far…okay?"
Then, looking upwards at his father, his eyes pleading
for a last minute reprieve from his own rash acceptance, he began to follow the
older girl down the slope toward the cold, clear waters below.
Jim Calendar smiled.
"Incredible," he murmured.
"Just like that and he's off down the hill. Your daughter has a way with kids, Keri. She seems to be a bright young woman. You must be proud of her."
Keri sat silently at first, her eyes following the
twosome down the slope…one striding purposefully onward, and the other
following hesitantly behind. How
different they seemed to be! What
convolutions of nature and nurture had conspired to make each so unique and so
diametrically opposite?
"Thanks," she responded finally. "I take it that this isn't the usual
thing then?"
Now it was Jim's turn to pause, regrouping, testing
his words on the edges of his mind before speaking aloud.
"No, not usually.
He's…shy, but we're working on it.
It's hard sometimes, being a single parent."
At the mention of the words "single parent",
Keri glanced at the ring, Shawn's wedding ring, that still adorned the second
finger of her left hand. She'd left it
there after the funeral, a reminder, a piece of something… someone who had made
her life complete.
"I don't think parenting is ever easy," she
replied evasively. "There are times
when it takes everything you've got…and then some."
The silence grew once more, until finally Jim shook it
loose and stepped into the breach.
"Paulette said that you're widowed, Keri. I'm sorry, I really am. It must be hard starting over…again."
She cringed at the sincerity in his voice. Only days before he'd been filed safely away…
a fond memory, and now here he was, already insinuating himself beneath the
torment she'd so carefully set to rest.
Fate had a dry, quirky sense of humor indeed.
Carefully she studied her fingers, looking perhaps for
the hand that would never again close over hers, her husband's ring giving cold
consolation in the stark light of day.
She nodded. "Yes, Shawn was
killed two years ago…in a crash."
Once more the silence engulfed them, an awkward bout
of half-formed words, and desperate thoughts.
"And Jeremy's mother…?" Keri responded, opting for something
more pertinent than the weather to fill the hush.
"Divorced," he replied, his features
composed and resolved. "But it was
amicable. Caroline just wasn't cut out
for domestic life, but she tried.
Finally it was better for all of us to realize that fact and get on with
our lives. She has a career she loves
now. Jeremy gets letters and presents
from all over the world. She's a good
woman…she was just never meant to be a wife."
Keri listened for the bitterness that she knew he must
feel, but heard none. It was
amazing! Were human beings meant to be
that accepting about such matters? She
remembered the painful phases she'd gone through after Shawn's death, even
letting her anger color her reason at one point…cursing him for not wearing his
seatbelt. How could Jim be so calm and
peaceful about a wife who chose to deliberately stray out of his life, leaving
him with a young child to care for alone?
"It can't have been easy," she
continued. "How old was he?"
Jim paused as if to unearth the past. "Two," He replied briefly, his
voice soft as if prodding the memory of a time he thought he'd put to rest.
"And it wasn't, but it can't have been any harder than dealing with…your
situation, either."
Her mind probed the yet unhealed wound left behind
after Shawn's death. No…not harder than
her own grief, not at all. But any loss
was still a loss, and had to be dealt with.
Jim had survived, and so would she.
It was just a matter of time.
"I thought maybe I'd see you here again…pretty
sure of it, I guess. I don't actually
know why I came, except that Paulette was always a friend to me. When I heard she wanted…"
He paused then, the pain almost tangible in her
eyes. Maybe she hadn't seen her Mother
in twelve years, but the bond was still there.
In a life filled with loss, there would be yet another…and soon.
He watched as her eyes became moist, forbidden tears
forming in the already tear-stressed corners.
This was the Keri he'd known for so long…preserved and sheltered in the
body of this woman of the world. His
hand trembled, began to rise…to brush the hint of moisture from her eyes, but
he knew he shouldn't… couldn't. Keri
wasn't his anymore. Time had passed and
life had grown between them, and so he stuffed his hand back into his pocket
and produced a clean but crumpled handkerchief instead, and watched as she took
charge of her own grief.
"I-I didn't mean to make you cry," he
blurted out, scrambling for the words that would bridge the gap he'd
created. "I should know better by
now. For someone who makes his living
manipulating the English language, I can certainly pick the wrong time to say
things, can't I?" he smiled.
She looked at him then, a question forming on her
lips, her mind switching from track to track as she began to prioritize her
confusion. "I thought you were here
all this time," she began. "I
thought you were staying. When
I…left…you said…"
"I know…I know," he finished, "And I
did. "I stayed on for another six
months, until Mom was better… and then I went looking for you."
"In Los Angeles?
You went to Los Angeles to find me?
How did you know where…I mean L.A. is a huge place…"
He grinned, the tiny wrinkles easing from his brow and
racing to the corners of his lips.
"Yeah…I found that out.
After going to school in Phoenix I should have known that, but somehow I
just figured fate would be on my side...so I went."
It was her turn to smile now, warming to the memory of
his naive spontaneity…his wide-eyed passion.
It would have been just like him to travel to Los Angeles expecting her
to just pop up in his rear view mirror one day.
Ah…the simplicity of youth.
She laughed, a
tiny indulgence in a day that hadn't allowed any. "And how long did you wander around
until you decided it was a lost cause?" she asked, the vision forming in
her mind. "You may not have found
me, but I'll bet the search was interesting.
One thing about L.A….it's never dull."
What he said next was totally unexpected, a shot from
the blue. "Actually, I found
you. It took a couple of days, but I did
find you…"
"But why…?" she began, wondering why he'd
traveled so far, gone through so much only to falter at the last minute. And then she knew. She'd been married by then...pregnant. She'd already started a new life with Shawn
Martin. There had been no room for the
young man who filled the secret places in her heart, and so he'd left
unannounced to…where?
His answer opened the floodgate to even more
questions, more blank pages to be filled.
He gave another glance down the hillside then, his fifth in as many
minutes, checking uneasily on his son's progress. Then he turned to her in the
shadow of the tree and began to fill the gap between them.
"At first I was hoping that after I found you,
maybe we could make a life together. I'd
work…go to law school at night…and when the time was right we could start a
family." He laughed then at his own
naiveté. "I saw you in the
garden…in front of your house. There was
a man…red hair. I assumed he was your
husband, and found out later that I was right.
You were pregnant by then, Keri.
Already! And that's when I knew
I'd waited too long. You had a life…a
family. You'd found your way. I would only have been an unwelcome
complication to something I had no part in…so I left.
"Back to New Hope?" she asked, reaching for
something upon which to build a new understanding of this calm and enigmatic
man.
"No," he shook his head. "I couldn't do that…and to he honest, I
didn't want to. When I left to find you,
my father told me not to come back. 'My way or the highway'…remember that
phrase? Well…I decided that I'd head
back to Phoenix. It was the only place I
knew outside of New Hope. I had friends
there, people who were willing to help me get my bearings."
He took a breath then.
The worst was over…the rest was just denouement. "I took jobs wherever I could…fast food,
clerking in department stores, then applied for financial assistance and
started law school at Arizona State.
That's where I met Caroline…my wife."
"You were both lawyers, then?" Keri
questioned, remembering that it was what he'd always wanted. "You went on and finished law
school?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "We got married right away, our first
year, and by the next year we'd had Jeremy.
He was kind of a surprise, but a welcome one, or so I thought."
Keri raised her eyebrows then, the unspoken question
hanging between them.
"Yeah…'or so I thought'. I mean, don't get me wrong. Caroline was a loving woman, and I know she
loved Jeremy…but she just wasn't ready for a family yet. There were things she wanted to do
first…dreams that needed tending."
He stopped there, sorting what to say…what to discard.
"She graduated when Jeremy was one…at the top of
her class in International Law. She had
offers all over the place, from prestigious law firms everywhere in the
world. My job, a minor one at the
district attorney's office, was just a joke compared to what she was being
offered… but she stayed. She gave up her
dreams for Jeremy and I…put what she wanted on a back burner for us, and
stayed."
He looked away then, his own memories pale and
uncomfortable in the brilliant light of day.
"She stayed for another year," he finally continued. "She did what needed to be done…met her
responsibilities as a wife and mother.
But, every day she became more distant, more removed."
"She tried not to resent her life, I think…the
things she'd missed…but it was hard. She
took a part-time position with a small local firm…handling their few
international clients. As the year wore
on she became more and more involved…more and more caught up with the
stimulation she only got from doing what she loved most, the law."
"By the time Jeremy was two, we both knew it
wasn't going to work. Much as she loved
us, it just wasn't enough. She probably
would have stayed if I'd asked, but I didn't.
She needed her freedom, and I needed her to be happy…so I let her
go. The divorce was uncontested. She didn't ask for anything…even gave up
custody. She wanted Jeremy to have the
best life she could provide, and she realized that was with me."
They gazed down the hill at the children then, turning
over a rock in the shallow water. Hadn't
they done much the same, upending the years that sat between them, and
finding…what? Could there be anything
left of something so remote, so removed from the everyday workings of twelve
long years?
Images of Jim as he had been back then, young and
idealistic, carefree and full of passion, flooded her mind. Life had no consequences then. Living here, on the bank of the river, safe
and secure in the only world they'd ever known…making plans for a future that
only they could share. It had all been
so perfect, so unshakable…until…
But this was not the same Jim Calendar she'd known
then…not a naive child. He'd grown and
ripened, much as she had, in the world beyond the highway. He'd loved and lost, and started over
again. Could there really be anything
left of the boy she'd loved so innocently a lifetime ago?
"I see your driving hasn't improved any,"
she laughed jokingly. "How in the
world did you hit my car in the middle of the desert!" She picked a couple of pecans off of the
ground and rolled them around between her fingers as she studied his face from
the corner of her eye. Grateful for the
reprieve, he was smiling. Good. It had seemed for one unendurable minute that
the past was about to swallow him up.
"Well…it wasn't easy, but I had help. It was hiding over the crest of the hill, and
just jumped out in front of me. Some
cars have an evil side, ya know."
His face grew somber then, filled by the vision of a man she had yet to
know. "Don't worry about your car,
Keri. I'll take care of it. It won't be a problem…"
Far out in the distance, in some unseen part of the
Paiute Wilderness they heard rifle fire…a common occurrence in a place where
sound travels so clearly. The soft
"pop" went almost unnoticed, masked by the memories of a lifetime
ago…but the scream from the streambed had them on immediate alert.
Jim was the first one on his feet, as though he'd been
anticipating something…anything. In a
flash he was running in the direction the children had taken, searching
frantically along the shoreline with his eyes until he came to an abrupt halt
in a place among the reeds.
There, in the brown and swirling water, sat Jeremy…his
face white with fear…his body frozen into a caricature-like visage born of
stark terror. Sarah, her face troubled
and confused stood above him, a wriggling tadpole still clutched in her
hand. "I can't get him to talk to
me, Mr. Calendar. I don't know what
happened! He was just bending down…there
was a tadpole…then he just dropped. Is
he okay? Did I do something wrong?"
Jim Calendar scooped his son from the swirling mud and
gathered him against his chest, feeling the boy's heart beating frantically
against his body as he attempted to shelter him from the demons that plagued
the quaking child.
Would it ever end, he thought, a heaviness settling
into the pit of his stomach…could he ever make things "right" for Jeremy
again? Was it possible? He knew he had no options…he had to try.
Keri came thrashing through the reeds then, panicked
at the scene before her. "What
happened?" she shouted, coming to a halt beside the threesome. Is he hurt?
Let me see, maybe I can help!"
"No…no," he answered. "He's okay. Just a little shaken. It must have been the sound of the rifle. Jeremy's a little…delicate. He'll be okay. He just needs a minute to catch his
breath. Nothing to worry about. Right fella?" he asked, ruffling his
son's hair, then tucking the small, blond head beneath his chin. If only it was true.
Keri stood back and assessed the scene. Something wasn't right here. She glanced back at her daughter for an
answer, but got only a puzzled response.
What was the name of the bogeyman who tormented Jeremy Calendar? What had happened to turn this small,
precious child into such a quivering mass?
Jim turned then, his child wrapped securely in his
arms, and strode up the embankment toward the pecan grove once more. "I think we'll call it a day, Keri. This little guy's had more than his share,
I'm afraid. Maybe I'll see you this
evening," he said, his eyes scanning hers for a piece of the past. "If not, then tomorrow for sure. Later…"
And with that, his long legs made short work of the
gentle slope until he vanished from sight over the curve of the hill, their
eyes never leaving his retreating form.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6
Keri worked alongside the sister-wives in the kitchen
that afternoon, cleaning vegetables, baking bread, preparing the evening meal
for her father's growing family. Twelve
years had done a lot to change the fabric of the Corman household, but nothing
to change the atmosphere that prevailed within those sheltered walls. Here the ties that bound them together were
as strong as ever…a testament to the plural way of life.
Keri's father had four wives, each unique and separate
in her own strengths and abilities.
Paulette, the first and "senior" wife, had been the love of
his youth. It was she who had set the
tone for the household, established the routines that others were to
follow. It was in her talented fingers
that the simple, seemingly Spartan meals of this isolated place had become
manna for the gods.
Patricia, the second Corman wife, had a knack for
figures. Her strength lay in controlling
the budget, planning income from their meager outside revenues, and allocating
expenditures so that everything came out even in the end. At forty-two, her facility with family
finance had become so legendary in the small community that most bookkeeping
matters were ultimately referred to her…a task that she assumed willingly and
with great precision.
Patricia was a tall woman, her body firm and almost
boyish, even in her middle years. Her
long, blond hair, braided and coiled atop her head, had yet to show the silver
strands of her passing years. It was
hard to believe that this was the same woman who had given Jacob Corman three
sons almost 20 years ago, but the health and happiness of her life displayed
itself in an almost perpetual vibrancy that could not be denied. The plural lifestyle, her husband and the
companionship of her sister-wives, appealed to her… and it showed.
Caroline, mother of two, was the third wife of the
elder Corman. Her tiny stature and
nimble ways made her seem more a part of the younger generation of Cormans, but
such was not the case. It was in her
small sewing room that the conservative bolts of cloth that Jacob brought home
from Colorado City on his infrequent visits, took the form of designs clipped
from the pages of aging catalogs and pattern packets. Her small space was constantly filled with
ideas for garments to brighten the countenance of the growing Corman clan, and
to tutor the Corman daughters in the art of sewing for their inevitable
families.
If there were moments when Caroline wondered what it
would be like to share a home where she was the sole wife, where her three
children were the only progeny, then she kept it to herself. Her place in New Hope, in this comfortable
home was sufficient. During those rare
times when polygamy seemed less of a blessing than a curse, she could always
find a free moment to slip away to her spot by the river…to compose herself and
reaffirm her good fortune in being a plural wife. The advantages far outweighed the drawbacks,
she'd tell herself during those silent moments, and only a fool would
"upset the applecart". And so
she'd smile and join her sister-wives in their large country kitchen, her tiny
voice of dissention quelled once more.
It was Rosetta Corman, thirty-two and the mother of
four, boisterous grade-schoolers who was the obvious heart and soul of the
Corman clan. Her flashing black eyes and
raven hair made her the epitome of youth and life, but it was her outgoing and
generous personality that made her the obvious favorite in the Corman
household. It was under Rosetta's gentle
touch that failing crops suddenly sprang to life, that the dusty flowers of the
high desert blossomed with a health and brilliance that even nature had to
envy. Hers was the gift of life…a
miraculous lightening of the spirit that she bestowed on everyone she met.
It was to "young" Rosetta that the ten
Corman children had flocked, each in their own time over the fourteen years
that she had been a plural wife. She'd
been their friend, their advisor…their confidant, and now she was the primary
caregiver to the failing Paulette Corman.
It was back into this closely-knit fold that Kerilynn
had come. No longer a child, but yet not
a part of the plural fabric of the household, her place was awkward and ill
defined…but welcome none-the-less.
The kitchen was aromatic with the smells of cinnamon
rolls and fried chicken when she returned.
Rosetta was there, brushing pale, sweet butter over the tops of the
pecan-filled delicacies as they entered the fragrant room. Unsure of her place, Keri stood aside…watching the industry of the
Corman women fill the sunlit space.
It was Rosetta that finally handed aprons to both her
and Sarah and pointed them in the direction of the supper table.
"If you can still remember where things
are," she began, "You can make yourself useful and set the
table…okay?" she smiled.
Keri nodded, more comfortable now, more a piece of the
commerce at hand. "How many am I
setting for these days?" she called as the kitchen door swung shut. "I don't have any idea…"
"Fourteen." Came the answer from the
vicinity of the closed door. "Your
father usually eats supper in with Paulette these days, so you don't need to
set places for them."
Her father.
She'd tried to block him out of her mind this afternoon, tried to wrap
her consciousness around the things he'd said, but the result left much
unresolved. Was this to be the way of it
then? No forgiveness…no redemption? Where there once existed a special love for
his firstborn, did there now exist only obligation? The thought was sobering. She'd known it would be difficult returning
to New Hope, if only for a little while, but she'd had fantasies of...of
what? A tearful reunion…the return of
the prodigal child?
Carefully she placed the aging china, each in it's
place until the table had filled with the gaily regimented shapes and patterns
that heralded the dinner hour. It was a
relief, actually, that her Father wouldn't be present for the meal. It would give her a chance to catch up on the
past twelve years, to reacquaint herself with the world she'd loved as a child,
but which was no longer hers. That she
and Isaac Corman would have to find some neutral ground upon which to exist
until she left, went without saying, but not today…not tonight. It was a fleeting respite, perhaps, but a
respite none-the-less. It would do for
now.
At precisely 4:45, Patricia Corman went out on the
back "stoop" and rang the dinner bell, announcing to all concerned
that they had just enough time to wash up before it was time to eat. Suddenly, from all directions the gentle flow
of the rural homestead became a torrent as the Corman clan began to fill the
rooms with bubbling vitality. From every
corner, children of all ages and all stages of joyous discombobulation hurried
along to make themselves presentable before being allowed a seat at the table.
The menu on Tuesday was the same as it always
was…fried chicken, and each was aware that that-latecomers got the piece that
went over the fence last.
One by one, huge steaming bowls of green beans and
bacon, garden-fresh tomatoes, mounds of buttery mashed potatoes and homemade
buttermilk biscuits made their way from the kitchen. Pitchers of fresh, icy-cold milk, their sides
moist with chilled condensation, were strategically placed along the length of
the table. Everything was ready, and the
Corman children, worn and hungry from a long day of hard work and harder play
scampered into their seats.
They paused then, silently waiting until Isaac Corman
took his position at the head of the table.
There, in clear and reverent tones, he gave thanks to God for the bounty
that was theirs, the blessings of family unity and their prosperous lives in
New Hope…and then he paused. All eyes
were raised at this unaccustomed breach in protocol, waiting for the
"amen" that would signal the onset of their evening feast.
Isaac turned his gaze toward Keri and Sarah, then
cleared his throat as though what he was about to say came harder than it
should have.
"Lord," he began again, "We welcome
tonight our prodigal child… gone from us many long years now. May the joys of family and home be a part of
her stay, and may the bountiful life that we share rest easy on her heart until
she departs once again. Amen."
So saying, he turned and took his leave, shuffling
heavily in the direction of Paulette's bedroom, all eyes following his passing
until the door closed softly behind him.
It was then that Rosetta slipped into the kitchen, returning momentarily
with a large bed tray loaded with the elder Corman's dinner, and a hearty soup
for the frail and failing Paulette.
If Keri had expected a mad clamor to ensue, she was
not disappointed. As if to cover the
distress they all felt over the absence of Paulette and Isaac, a cacophony of
voices rose to fill the silence, each chattering about the joys and
tribulations of their day as they passed the platters and bowls clock-wise
around the table. In twelve years,
nothing had changed. It was as though
the Corman clan, though grown considerably over the years, had remained in
stasis...waiting for her return. It was
then she realized exactly how much she'd missed it, the closeness that
surrounded them all, the sense of belonging that exuded from every corner.
Some faces were new to her, and most had changed with
the passing of time, but to everyone present she represented a part of the
whole…a part of their extended family.
If her father had been reserved at her coming, resentful of her
presence…he had chosen to keep it buried amid the intonations of
propriety. It wouldn't do to be visibly
distant from one's own child…it wasn't acceptable. It lacked the expectations of hearth and
home, and would have become an item of derision in the community. The façade must be maintained at all
costs…and so they were to play the game as scripted, flawlessly, until the end.
Sarah seemed to blend comfortably with her aunts and
uncles, the children of this large, plural family. Older than Rosetta's four children, it seemed
strange to appear so aged, so worldly by comparison, but there it was. The differences were significant and not to
be denied. Sarah, raised in the world
beyond the highway, was considered rare and exotic by the Corman siblings. Her life and the references to which she
alluded were often foreign and confusing to the children around her. It was only her charismatic demeanor and the
elan with which she wove her tales of the outside world that captured them so
completely, and blended her so thoroughly with the happy throng around her.
To Keri, the old and forgotten ways came flooding
back…the large glass pitchers of fresh milk…the enormous country supper. No tofu and bean sprouts here…no "spare
tires" to trim. Hard work and a
Spartan lifestyle had taken care of all of that. Few here had ever heard of sleeping pills or
Prozac. The residents of New Hope slept
soundly beneath the protective gaze of their higher power, and with the
well-earned feeling of belonging that comes from knowing who you are and where
you're going. Life was set in stone in
New Hope, and if that was unacceptable, there was always the interstate to
carry you away. It was hard to believe
that anything could possibly tarnish such a paradise…but it had, and she
herself had found it necessary to seek the relative solace of the highway at
one time.
Gradually the chicken vanished, and the honey-laden
biscuits found their way into grateful stomachs. The homemade pecan pie that followed soon
became a sweet memory as the sated gathering began to disperse for other
places…other activities. Sarah was taken
captive by the younger Cormans who had formed a fast, firm connection with
their older but alien niece. So off they
tramped into the dwindling daylight, bent on a bit of play, a quick dunk in the
river before retiring for the night…leaving Keri and Rosetta alone with their
private musings.
"Has it changed much?" Rosetta asked, her
fingers gently stroking the rounded contours of her burgeoning stomach. "It's hard to tell when you're so
close…seeing it every day like this.
Some days it seems like nothing ever changes, and then others…"
"I can't believe how big the kids are, and how
many of them now. And, the house is
looking good. I can see your touch in
that…but no, I don't think it's changed much at all. It has the same…feel…to it. Do you know what I mean? It's like I left only yesterday, not twelve
years ago. Sure, the tangible things are
the same, older, but the continuity is still there. I even bet myself that Father's work boots
would still be…"
"…in the corner of the shed?"
They both jumped at the sound of his voice. Lost in their own discussion, neither had
heard the elder Corman approach, his dinner with Paulette now finished, his
face gray and troubled.
"Father!", Keri exclaimed in surprise. "I didn't hear you." Then, as was the custom, both woman grew
silent, awaiting what was to come next.
If Keri had expected vituperations, it was not to
be. Her Father's eyes, once a source of
fire and brimstone, now appeared shrouded and distant, lacking the
unquestioning authority she had come to know so well.
He looked as though he had something on his mind,
something that needed saying but which was out of his reach. Instead, his eyes scanned the smooth surface
of the table, polished to a warm luster and topped with an arrangement of
strawflowers.
"Everyone's finished, I see," he said,
filling the awkward silence with small talk.
"Paulette had trouble eating tonight. I'm afraid she…" he paused then, as
though the wrong word would shatter the thin veneer of stability that still
remained in his beloved wife's existence.
"She…didn't eat much…" he finished lamely. "Maybe you could bring her a snack
later, Rosetta? She's losing so much
weight…" He murmured, his voice cracking slightly.
Rosetta nodded slightly, her voice reflecting the
sadness in her eyes. "Yes, Isaac…of
course. You know I will." She reached slowly for his hand, a wordless
affirmation that she was there for him, then and always, and for Paulette as
well. "You're looking tired,
Isaac. Are you sure you wouldn't like me
to sit with her tonight instead? You
can't do it all…you just can't. You're
making yourself sick. Let me…"
"No."
A single syllable, strained and incontrovertible broke like a wave over
the stillness of the room. Both women
sat silently, like tiny islands awash in the overpowering essence that was
Isaac Corman. He'd said
"No". That was the end of it. The conversation was at an end.
Then, laying his hand on Rosetta's shoulder, he gave a
tiny squeeze and turned, his footsteps growing faint as he paused in the
mudroom to gather his hat before heading out toward the barn.
"I'm worried about your Father," Rosetta
murmured, her voice soft with concern.
"This is taking a toll on him.
I know you don't believe this, but he's a deeply sensitive man…a caring
husband. He loves her so much…"
Keri paused then.
Her Father?
Sensitive…caring? Obviously Rosetta
saw a different side of the man than she did.
Somehow, the thought of his stone cold heart in jeopardy was beyond
her. The memory of his eyes, distant and
resolute…his jaw set in unwavering determination filled her mind. No…Rosetta's vision wasn't the man she
knew. It couldn't be a picture of Isaac
Corman.
"Father will get through this, Rosetta," she
assured the concerned young woman, "…he always does." And with that, Keri rose and excused herself
from the table. There was nothing more
to say, nothing more to do. Suddenly she
felt a need for space, a place all alone from which to view the parade of
thoughts that ran willy-nilly through her mind.
Sarah was fine for the moment, lost in a swirl of diminutive aunts and
uncles. For the first time in days Keri
had a chance to reflect in solitude, and she gratefully accepted it.
Leaving by the back door, she carefully picked her way
through the moonlit night, back in the direction of the pecan tree, back to the
comfortable seclusion it offered her body and mind. It was good to finally have a moment to
herself, and her inner being rose gladly to fill the vacancy of the
moment. So many thoughts had been
shuffling through her mind the past few days…thoughts that she'd relegated to
the dim shadows of her soul…thoughts that were screaming to be probed
now…petted…coaxed into the forefront of her consciousness.
It was time.
Slowly she sank beneath the sheltering arms of the
pecan tree, listening to the birds settling in for the night and the soft
lowing of a cow far behind in the barn.
The quiet hush of the Virgin River swept past her, murmuring to her as
it had done so often in years gone by…in her memory…in her heart. The gentle velvet of the night wrapped its
arms about her, shielding her from the harsh speculation of the world around,
and she closed her eyes to welcome it.
Tentatively her thoughts replayed...not just of the
past three days, but of the past thirty years.
Warm visions of a childhood filled with laughing half-sisters and
brothers, of simple things, of a life untouched by the world beyond the
highway, now began to curl and dance behind her eyelids. They'd been good years…happy years, until…
She recalled the day, so long ago, when she knew she
loved young Jim Calendar…knew beyond all reason that they were meant to spend
the rest of their days together. But
she'd been young then, too young, and at fourteen she'd had no option but to
let the man of her dreams head off to college in far away Phoenix while she
continued on in the one-room schoolhouse in New Hope. She'd told him, in her childlike manner, that
she loved him that day…told him that she'd wait, and he'd smiled the kind of
smile one gives to a child who's just said something too precious to be
ignored.
He'd underestimated her however, underestimated the
mature determination that had grown so early in her young heart, for when he
returned four years later she was still waiting. By then she was no longer a child of fourteen
with auburn plaits whipping about her shoulders, she was a young woman who had
waited long and patiently for the love of her life to return, to take her place
by his side.
He'd hardly recognized her at first, amid the happy
throng that had met the bus that day, but then the crowd had parted and she'd
stepped forward, a vision of loveliness, ripe with promise. He'd opened his mouth to say something,
raised his hand to ruffle her hair as he had so often before…then paused. It was there, on the dusty roadway, in the
bright spring afternoon that their eyes had met as man and woman for the first
time. Somewhere, somehow a bond had
formed in that instant, something that time could never touch, that life could
never tarnish. She was his from that
moment on, and he was hers. The orbits
of faith and fate had aligned, and their offspring had been a union so right
that it had filled them both with unending joy.
Gently she stroked her arms, warming herself as a cool
mist began to form on the river below.
There'd been many nights like this over that summer… nights when their
long walks along the river brought them to the very brink of intimacy. She could still remember the gentle press of
his lips on hers, the sweet taste of his tongue, probing like the touch of a
hummingbird against her own, a parody of the union that called to them ever so
incessantly.
And so the months had passed, each bearing its own
excuse for them to be together. Fishing
for Virgin River chub…"tubing" in the cool water on a sun-warmed
afternoon… picking wild raspberries along the shore, each day bringing them
closer and closer to a fulfillment until finally the day of her 18th
birthday had arrived.
It was a happy occasion, a joyous one filled with
presents suitable for a young woman…no longer a child now. It was a "coming out" party of
sorts, a benchmark, a symbol of her passing youthfulness and the heralding of
her entry into the world of adulthood.
She recalled her shock at the announcement of her
arranged betrothal to Brother Jacob, and how she and Jim had slipped away that
night, to the barn where the prying eyes of the community couldn't touch
them. He'd been so tender then…and so
frightened. She could still feel the
warm tremble of his fingers on the small of her back as he guided her to the
ladder leading to the loft.
"Up here," he'd whispered, his voice lost in
the dusty, hay-strewn interior. "I
have something important to talk to you about…and I don't want anyone to
disturb us. Too damn many brothers and
sisters around here!" he'd laughed.
And so she'd gathered her party dress around her and
climbed the ladder, the gentle sway of her long auburn hair warming her back as
he made his way behind her. Quickly he'd
crossed and opened the upper doors, allowing the moonlight to fill the loft
with an ethereal ambiance that warmed her very being. Then, with a majestic sweep he'd lain his
jacket atop the hay and bade her to join him in his secluded universe.
She'd paused at first, she remembered, knowing that
there would be no turning back after that night. They'd come so close so many times, each time
breaking free in breathless frustration…yearning…but not that night. She was ready…so ready. It was time to confirm their feelings for one
another, to consummate…she was a woman now.
She'd tingled at the thought, her body warming in the
glow of her thoughts. Had she been
blushing? She couldn't remember the last
time that had happened. But here, in
this place, it was all returning in intimate relief. The memories came flooding back in moist
profusion…the gentle urging of his voice as he'd asked her to marry him, the
warm quivering feel of his hand as he placed his graduation ring on her finger.
He'd kissed her then, not as a boy wooing the girl who
filled his dreams, but as a man who'd found the one and only woman to fill his
life. His tongue, so gentle and
tentative before, now took on an urgency she'd never experienced, and it filled
her with a womanly flush that swept over her like wildfire. She'd known then that she wanted him in every
way possible…wanted him as only a woman could want a man…that night there would
be no hushed and trembling good-byes, unfulfilled once again.
Slowly, as though guided by her thoughts, his fingers
had brushed over her breast, clothed yet in the thin lace of her carefully
chosen party dress. She'd felt her
nipple rise against his palm, struggling to breach the barriers between them.
She'd heard him groan, shifting uncomfortably in the
hay beside of her. "Tell me to
stop, Keri," he'd said, his voice shaking almost as much as his
hands. "Tell me to stop…or…"
But she hadn't.
Her heart had begun to race, her pulse throbbing madly
as he pressed his lips against her throat.
Oh God how she'd wanted him then!
Slowly, urged by some unseen and irresistible force, she'd begun to
untie the satin ribbon that secured the bodice of her dress, parting it ever so
slightly, watching as the moonlight caressed the rounded swell of her young
breasts.
She'd hesitated, her heart frozen in mid-beat, her
fingers stroking his cheek…urging him to continue where she'd begun. Would he…would he?
He'd risen up on his knees then, the moonlight
coloring his pale features in dim shades of night, and bared his chest,
dropping his shirt in the hay beside her hip.
"Oh Keri…" he'd whispered, searching for the
words that were so far beyond his reach.
"I- I…" And then he'd
grown silent, his eyes taking on a hunger she'd never seen before as he
caressed her once again.
Slowly, he'd peeled away the remains of her clothing,
his trembling fingers fumbling with each button and hook until at last she lay
before him, clad only in her sensible, white cotton panties, her warm flesh
aglow in the rays of the moon. His
breath, deep and uneven warmed her as he'd closed his lips over the hard,
pebbled surface of her nipple, touching her in ways she'd only imagined. She heard a moan then, a whimper. Was this the sound of passion? Was this the sound women made in the velvet
depths of the night?
As though finding a hidden page in an ancient tome,
she'd arched her back against him, thrusting her body against his in an
invitation as old as time. He'd groaned,
a sound escaping from deep in his body, vibrating against her flesh in a pure
resonance that only they could share.
His hand had cupped her left breast once again, milking the nipple, then
began to slowly make its way down her ribcage, past the tiny pool of her
navel…down to the thin elastic of her panties.
Her body had prickled in anticipation, a moist rush trickling between
her thighs as he slid the last barrier downward over her hips, her legs,
leaving her naked and wanting beneath his gaze.
And then the last of his clothing had vanished as
well…lost in the dim, rustling crackle of hay that surrounded them. She'd watched him then, her eyes widening as
he bared his sex, so hard, so enormous, and for one brief second she'd felt
afraid. She'd been so small…so small,
she'd thought in her innocence…how could she ever…? What if she disappointed him…left him filled
with unrequited need? Could she…could
she?
Tenderly, she'd felt his fingers begin to explore the
auburn tendrils between her thighs, finding places that seemed to throb as he
approached…places that seemed to know with some primal awareness what their
role in life was to be. Had his eyes
been black before, she'd wondered, searching the piercing ebony of his gaze as
he brought her body to life? Had he
ever…
Then she'd gasped, her pale skin prickling as he'd
explored the thin membrane of her virginity with his finger, slipping beneath
the diminutive opening into the dark, rich interior. His rigid member, now in full bloom, pressed
urgently against her outer thigh, throbbing as though driven by some outside
force, and she'd felt herself swell against him. Once again his lips had claimed hers, his
thumb ever circling her tiny, delicate nub, his finger probing…probing…
And then it had happened…
Somewhere deep inside of her, like a tortured
unraveling, she was at once overcome by a release so crystalline, so
overwhelmingly cataclysmic that she screamed in wild abandon into the wet cavern
of his mouth. Her hands, no longer her
own, had grouped frantically over his back then, her nails leaving pink trails
in his luminous skin as she'd rolled her body against him, seeking the feel of
his burgeoning manhood against her trembling flesh. A rush, hot and liquid, flowed heavily
against his hand as she'd whispered a single word.
"Please…"
It was then and only then that he'd slipped between
her thighs, his need overcoming his tender ministrations. Overwhelmed by a need she could scarcely
comprehend, she reached for him…caressing the object of her desire, hungry to
feel him within her. A low, guttural
sound escaped into the stillness as she wrapped her trembling fingers around
the quivering core of his sex, placing the smooth, taught knob against her
untried barrier. He'd groaned…long and
loud, and with a quick, hard thrust of his hips he'd penetrated her, warring
against the gentle urge to nurture and driving deeply within her body.
Then, as though fighting against his baser urges, he
paused, allowing her body to accommodate his own, desperately searching her
eyes for a sign that all was right.
"Don't stop.." she'd whispered. "Love me, Jim, love me…please…"
He'd exhaled
raggedly, then satisfied that all was well, he'd slowly begun to move within
her, the warm, liquid feel of him filling her body. Only the small, wizened barn owls had noticed
her cries of passion as he'd thrust over and over into her warm, narrow
passage. Her mind whirled as she felt
him move inside of her…so hard…so right.
Pressing. Throbbing. Stroking until she felt her body begin to
quiver around him, caressing his plundering shaft in quick, greedy convulsions. Once more he'd covered her mouth with his as
she screamed his name, her gush of hot, viscous fluid engulfing him…carrying
him over the edge. He'd moaned, a
strangled cry deep into her throat, filling her in hot torrents as he thrust
deeply inside of her again and again…plowing the fertile fields of her body and
sowing them with his molten seed.
When it was done, when passion began to ebb, they'd
lain together, side by side, breathless and sweat streaked as the world once
more came into focus and the sounds of the night assailed their tiny
sphere. And then, as though to preserve
the link they'd forged in the warm liquid moments of the night, he rolled
against her, touching her, caressing her yet again.
"I love you so much, Keri, " he'd said, the
words a gentle balm against her still tingling flesh. "Are you all right? Was I too…I mean…" he flushed, "I
wanted it to be so…I- I didn't want to hurt you. But when I heard you…felt you. Oh my God, Keri…I just wanted you so much I
couldn't stop. Are you all right?"
he'd asked again.
She'd smiled at him, there in the waning moonlight, a
smile as old as womanhood, as knowing as the ages. "It's all right, Jim…it's all
right. It was…wonderful," she'd
whispered, the words failing her. How could
you describe something so tenderly erotic, so mind shatteringly cataclysmic
that it defied description? Where were
the words when you needed them?
The barn owl had left its place among the rafters, its
voyeuristic perch abandoned as a low shuffle filled the silence. A thump.
Voices filling the barn below.
"Keri?"
Her father. His tone strident and
demanding. "Keri…are you up
there?"
They'd heard footsteps climbing the ladder as he'd
gathered her clothing against her naked breasts, covering her nudity from the
outside world…and then the loft had begun to fill with prying eyes…accusing
glares. Her father and his…her mother,
all staring at the scene in startled condemnation.
"Get dressed," the elder Calendar had
ordered them, averting his eyes from her naked form. "You're not to speak of this again…do
you understand. How could you…" he
growled at his son. This 'woman' is to
be my wife. We just announced it! How dare you…"
In anger, he'd turned to Isaac Calendar, his voice low
and controlled. "The marriage…I
think we'd better make it soon. This
Sunday perhaps, after the services.
We'll put this behind us Isaac…it never happened."
Once more he'd turned toward his son, his voice
controlled…dominant. "You're not to
see this woman again…not in this way. Do
you understand? Her path is
set…promised. She's to be my wife…your
mother. It would be an
abomination…"
Then there had been only Paulette Calendar to be dealt
with…only her voice to be stilled. Both
men had stared at the stricken woman, their eyes demanding her silence. She'd hesitated…only for a heartbeat…and then
for another as she'd tried to gather the courage to defy the very rock upon
which her life was formed. But in the
end she'd fallen silent, her eyes downcast, her acquiescence assured. She could no more stand up to Jacob Calendar
and her husband than she could fly. It
was impossible… hopeless. Desperately,
she'd searched for a means to soar beyond herself, her own limitations, but it
was to no avail. Jacob and Isaac had
made their wishes clear. It was done.
And so the date had been set for Sunday, three days
away, with the oppressive silence in the Corman home growing daily into
something cold and insurmountable.
Once more in the present, Keri glanced down the
hillside at the river once again, gliding so silently to the south, so
purposefully on it's course. The waning
moon cast shifting shadows on the ground around her, in her lap, in her
hair. It had been on a night like this
that she'd decided to leave New Hope and build a life somewhere else…somewhere
a woman was free to choose her fate. Jim
had come to her beneath the tree that night, his savings rolled in a tight ball
in his pocket, tied with a small length of twine. It was all he'd had, all he could offer…a
fistful of hope in a hopeless world.
He'd wanted to go with her…urged her to remain, but neither was
possible. Jim's Mother, her body ravaged
by a virus that had taken the lives of many rural Arizonans, lay gasping and
frightened in New Hope. He couldn't
leave…and Keri couldn't stay.
A shuffle in the still, clear night brought her back
to the present…to the place and time that lay before her.
"I thought I'd find you out here," he said,
his voice piercing the dappled silence.
"You always did love this spot.
I guess some things never change."
She smiled, the corners of her full lips curling ever
so slightly, changing her pensive expression to one of warm acceptance. "And you always hated sitting on pecan
shells," she laughed, her voice rising to twine gently with his in the
moonlight.
It was his turn to smile then, his turn to feel the
silver beams lighten his load. He laughed,
a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest as he bent and brushed the fallen
pecans from a place by her side. "I
still do," he grinned. "Who
wouldn't…except maybe you. You always
were the toughest girl I knew."
He paused then, weighing the words he'd tossed so
unthinkingly into the night. "No, I
take that back. Not tough…never
tough. Strong, maybe…brave…in a way that
I've never seen in another human being…but never tough."
She sat silently and allowed his words to flow gently
over her, allowed them to wash away the dusty remnants of twelve long
years. What they'd had…what they'd
shared lay between them like a living artifact of another time, another
life. Their interconnectedness had
become faded with the years, diminished with the passing of days, but it was
still there…waiting…waiting.
"Where's your 'little one' tonight?" she
asked, her muted segue branching into lighter topics. "I didn't think he'd let you out of his
sight tonight, and here you are."
He shook his head.
"Sleeping," he replied uneasily. "Surrounded by adoring cousins and
nieces, but I can't be away long. If he
wakes up and finds me gone…"
She waited for him to finish, to complete the
thought. If Jeremy woke up and found him
gone…then…what? Would he worry, would he
cry, would he scream out in terror as he had that afternoon?
Once more the silence fell between them, a thin veneer
covering something they dare not touch, something that beckoned in siren tones
to be drawn into the moonlight once again.
"And your Sarah…are there other brothers and
sisters waiting at home for the two of you, or is this marvelous little clone
an original?"
Keri gathered a handful of fallen pecans and took aim
at pale chunk of sandstone that lay about ten yards down the slope. "Nope…she's an original, my one and
only, but she fills that little 'mommy' space in me nicely. I've been lucky,
Jim, really lucky."
Gently he took two pecans from her little pile of
ammunition and pressed them tightly in his fist. A crack…and then like magic the shells parted
and the sweet nutmeat rolled into his palm.
He offered her a piece…a bribe…truth serum?
"Did you…" he began, not knowing how to
begin, what tact to take in this delicate curl of thought and sound.
"Did I what?" she replied, a million
possibilities whirling through her mind.
[Did I work…go to school…did I love Shawn…did I love you?]
He laughed, a nervous laugh, the kind of laugh that
said he'd headed down the wrong path and didn't know how to turn around.
"You can ask," she whispered softly. "Whatever it is. For what we had…for what we were…I think you
have that right. And, if it's too
personal, I have the right to refuse…correct?" she smiled, tempering the
rebuff with a flash of her white teeth.
"Okay….okay," he acquiesced, "Fair
enough, I guess. But as far as having a
right…no…I don't. I gave that up when I
put you on the bus alone that night. It
was a cowards way out, not something a man would do."
She turned her head, taking in his full measure. He'd thought himself a coward? How could that be? She'd known, even then, the enormous amount
of strength it had taken to give her his hard won 'nest egg', to aid in her
escape from a loveless marriage, to defy his own father. How could he possibly think himself a
coward? She'd never even considered
it…not for a second.
"No…not a coward…never that, Jim. Young, maybe…
we both were. Too young to have
to make the decision we were forced to make.
But, you did the best you could.
Some of the responsibility was my own as well, you know. But this place…your father…my parents…let's
lay the responsibility where it belongs.
Maybe 'we' just weren't just meant to be…"
"Maybe," he agreed, "Maybe not. But at the time I thought we were. I thought that you were the only woman I
could ever love, Keri…that there could never be anyone else that could make me
feel the way that you did…love me the way you did."
He cleared his throat then, taking another approach to
the question he'd so recently abandoned.
"I thought about you almost constantly during those six months,
Keri...day and night. Wondered what you
were doing...were you all right…safe. I
wondered if you'd found friends, someone else to love, if you ever thought of
me."
His voice became softer now, more uncertain. "Did you…think of me, Keri? I mean, you and Shawn…it was so soon…and then
Sarah. When I saw you it was like we'd
been apart for years, not just months...like your life here, with me, was just
treading water until the real thing came along."
He popped another pecan into his mouth as if to stop
the flow of words before they buried him in unwanted introspection, before they
exposed too much of his vulnerability.
What would she think if she knew the wound still lay half-healed in his
heart?
Keri chose to circumvent the issue, a third option,
and answered instead : "You met
Shawn, you know, or saw him at least.
The night I left. He was there on
the bus…the driver. I sat behind
him. Remember you telling me to do
that? I guess I looked a wreck…I know I
felt like it, and after a few miles he took out a loaf of homemade banana bread
and offered me a slice. Just like
that."
"Banana bread?" he laughed. "Your whole life took a turn on a slice
of banana bread? What would you have
done for a slab of fruitcake?" He
saw her scowl and realized that he was belittling a memory, scoffing at a
tender moment, and immediately retreated.
"I'm sorry," he offered. "That was uncalled for. But you know me…'open mouth, insert
foot'."
"It was a nice gesture," she replied a
little defensively. "It said
something about him…something kind. And
it got us talking. I really needed
that. By the time we got to L.A., I
think he must have known my whole life story, every boring moment of it,"
she laughed. "But more importantly,
he knew that I wasn't cut out to survive in Los Angeles alone…not yet."
"He could have taken advantage." She
continued, "…could have used my situation, and me, but he didn't. Instead he took me to his mother's house in
Long Beach and asked her to take me in as a border, to look out for me…and she
did. He helped me find a job with the
bus company…helped me get my feet on solid ground. And, little by little we came to love each
other. I don't know what kind of Karma
sent Shawn into my life, but it must have been something special…really
special."
A twinge of jealousy poked uncomfortably at the back
of his mind. Karma. Shawn.
Not him, he'd been back in New Hope when she'd needed him. Another man had filled the need in Keri's
life…another lover.
Something nocturnal scampered soundlessly through the
grass a few feet away, and she shifted her gaze, following its passing. A tiny shiver rippled along her flesh. "Whatever it was, I think it's gone,"
she commented, the quiver in her voice more a part of the memory than of the circumstance. "Maybe it's time to head back now…before
they come looking for me…before Jeremy wakes up and finds you gone."
She rose then, and planting her feet to accommodate
the slope of the hill, she began to turn again toward the Corman
homestead. Once more the tiny denizen of
the night scampered past, frightened by her invasion of time and space,
diverting her attention as she attempted to find solid footing among the hard,
shifting nuts beneath her.
She heard the crack of the shell just before her foot
began to turn…to twist…to slip at a wild tangent that only someone in full
pratfall would ever attempt. She braced
herself, the ground rising to meet her, and then…
"Ooffff!" he gasped, as she landed atop his
body, her weight driving the air from his lungs. Instinctively, his arms went around her,
holding her, securing her as he attempted to regain his breath. "You've put on weight, Keri," he
tried to laugh, "most of it right here!" Then, before he could think of the
inappropriateness of his actions, his right hand gently patted her buttocks to
emphasize his point.
They froze, both of them. His touch, even through her Levi's brought
back memories of another time so long ago, and the gentle caress of his hand on
her body.
"I - I…" he stammered, searching for words
that would, could excuse his rashness, but again the silence thickened, filling
now with a longing that had lain dormant for over a decade.
Once more his lips parted, like a puppet whose
ventriloquist has fled, but this time his hand bridged the gap between them,
tracing her cheek…her lower lip.
"Keri," he whispered. "Keri…"
Slowly he leaned toward her, the moonlight finding
them, embracing them as he pressed his lips to hers and inhaled the
intoxicating scent of her nearness. A
tiny whimper escaped her throat, drawn from a place where words could never
form, filling a place that understood more than words could ever say.
Had the moonlight shifted then, he would have seen the
tears welling up in her eyes, the desperation that filled them with purloined
longing…but it didn't. Instead, the
salty flow of her emotions ran against his tongue in vague rivulets, trickling
against his cheek, his lips, like muted messages in some long-forgotten language.
It was what he'd needed…what he'd longed to
"hear", and it quickly consumed him.
Again he touched her, his finger slowly tracing the thin line of tears
that rolled haltingly toward the tip of her chin. She was Keri…his Keri…and she was here at
last, no more a figment straining against his eyelids in the depths of sleep,
but the real flesh and blood manifestation of his lost love.
She hesitated only slightly as he drew her to him, a
pause dictated as though by protocol, then with a sigh she molded her body to
his, her breasts warm against his chest, her fingers twining in his hair. Suddenly the years melted away, and they were
in the loft once more, his ring on her finger, his soft promise of
"forever" in her ears…in her heart.
He knew they should stop, should pull away and let
propriety have its due, but they were both old enough and wise enough now to
know that fate is a fickle benefactor, that second chances are rare and
treasured gifts …and so they stayed.
Slowly she leaned her head back, her eyes filled with
stars and savored the feel of his lips sliding gently against her throat. Not a word passed between them, not a
whisper. It was as though the spell
they'd woven was made of spun glass, fragile and fleeting, something to be
preserved in the hushed vacuum of the moment.
A low murmur, the hint of longing rumbled deep in her
chest, threatening to invade the stillness as his lips trailed lower, lower
until they nudged between the cleavage of her blouse and brushed the very top
of her lacy bra. She trembled, her
nipples hardening. How many times had
she fantasized a moment such as this…this place…this touch…this man?
Another moan…his or hers? His hand stroking the pale, quivering fabric,
sliding between the buttons… searching…searching…
"Oh Keri," he murmured finally against her trembling
flesh, "Tell me to stop…tell me…" he begged, an echo from the past.
But she couldn't.
Every inch of her seemed to respond to his touch…to his nearness. He was what she'd wanted for so long, what
she'd longed for, what she'd dreamed about in the still, silent mornings of her
empty life.
Jim, not Shawn…but Jim.
Then she felt her own fingers, twining hard in his
hair, drawing him to her once more as the last of her buttons parted and he
fumbled with the front hook of her frilly undergarment.
"Jim…?"
Not her voice.
And again…
"Jim? Are
you out there? Answer me if you
are. Jeremy needs you…he's awake and
crying. Where are you?"
He stopped then, like a door slamming, frozen in
time. Jeremy. His son needed him! Guiltily, he gathered her blouse around her,
a profound look of apology in his eyes, and stood to leave.
"I'm sorry, Keri," he began, his voice
hesitant, strained. "I shouldn't
have done…that. I…I took advantage. There was no excuse…"
"Shhh," she whispered, the chill of the evening
cooling her flushed and overheated skin.
"I'm a big girl now. You
didn't do anything I didn't allow. If
that was a guilty moment, then it's one we shared. You'd better go…"
He nodded, a gesture lost in the darkness, then made
his way up through the orchard toward the dismembered voice at the top of the
rise. "I'm coming!" he called,
"I'll be right there…" And then, like the fantasy-lover who'd filled
her bed for so long, he vanished, leaving her alone and unfulfilled.
If fate had been unfair twelve years ago, then it had
finally reached the point of cruelty.
Shakily, Keri rose, and began to retrace her path back to the Corman
homestead. It was true what she'd told
Jim though. She wasn't a girl any
more…never again. She was a woman with a
young daughter to care for, and whatever life had in store this time, she'd
deal with it. Even if she had to curtail
the boundaries of her heart and mind, the real world had to have its
limitations. Impulse was a luxury she
could no longer afford. Whatever happened,
she could handle it now, she told herself.
Anything.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 7
Morning rose like crimson fire in the east, a perfect
Arizona dawn. The singsong trill of
morning doves drifted melodically through the clear, dry solitude and filled
her mind with a new day…but not a new beginning.
The things that had passed between her and Jim
Calendar still whirled mercilessly through her mind, stirring the dust of
memories past, leaving her body aching with an unquenchable thirst that she had
come to believe would never be satisfied again.
So many visions, warring one against the other, had chased away any hope
of peaceful repose. Her lover, her
husband, her father, all combined with tortured thoughts of her mother, had
done battle with the night. It was a
woman older than her time that rose from the small single bed in the rosy dawn
that morning, shunned by the blissful hand of sleep, ravaged by exhaustion and
stress and sorely unprepared for the day
ahead.
"Mom?" Sarah questioned, her small voice
rife with concern. "You look
awful. Didn't you sleep at all last
night?"
Keri tried to smile.
So often now Sarah had taken to reversing their roles in life. Was she that unprepared, that vulnerable? Keri gave a stretch, a mock effort to
circumvent the issue.
"Lumpy bed, Sweetheart. I think one of your uncles must have his rock
collection stored under there."
They both laughed then, each maintaining the fallacy that everything was
all right, that the dark circles beneath her eyes didn't exist. It was a hollow sound that they both chose to
ignore. Sometimes it was better that
way. Frontal assaults weren't always the
best strategy.
The tiny travel alarm on the nightstand said 5:30 am,
but already the sounds of the Corman household filled the rooms below. There would be chores to do, food to prepare,
people to care for. Keri remembered all
too vividly the necessity in the high desert of rising early to avoid the
summer heat when there was work to be done…and there was always work to be done
on a farm.
The clanging of metal along the street beyond brought
her attention to full alert. Her
car! Someone was breaking in!
Quickly she hurried to the window and searched in the
early dawn. What she saw did nothing to
calm her peace of mind. There, on the
dusty roadway, lay the pieces of her modest vehicle…strewn for yards around,
its chrome glowing dully in a brilliant scarlet reflection of the Arizona morning. Around it stood a group of young men, their
faces all aglow with the prospect of a new challenge, a new showcase for their
dubious talents.
Her poor tired Chevy no longer looked aged and worn…it
looked dead, as though New Hope had chosen to put it out of its misery. Propped on an angle, the left, rear portion
of the abused auto sat jacked ignobly in the air, its tire now laying in one
place, its hub in another. Sitting a
little further down the path sat the hubcap, filled with the scattered metallic
nuts that had once been holding everything in place. The hood from the trunk sat leaning against
the fence, the dim bowels of the Chevy open and gaping in the morning sun. Shaken, she looked about, something was missing. The damaged bumper and left, rear panel were
nowhere to be seen, victims of the early raid on her newly dismembered
conveyance.
Her car!
Did they know what they were doing? Keri sat heavily on the quilt, her stomach
roiling. She could have had it fixed in
town! Now, with her only means of
transportation in pieces, she was trapped…a prisoner. Her options had been drastically diminished,
and the realization was distinctly uncomfortable.
Exasperated, she turned from the window and finished
preparing herself for the day to come.
She wanted to share breakfast with her Mother, weaving together a
relationship that had not long to remain.
It was more a closure, she thought…more a way of saying good-bye, but as
important as it had been to her Mother, it was becoming even more important to
her.
How long had she felt this way, she wondered? How long had this emptiness festered just
below the surface, hidden from view to everyone but Shawn? The thought captured her as memories of her
kind and gentle husband filtered through her mind. He'd known her so well, sometimes too well. She could never hide anything from Shawn, not
a feeling, not an emotion, not a disquieting memory. He always knew…and this time she was glad for
the fact.
The pictures, the lineage of photographs that he'd
sent had meant the world to Paulette
Corman, a godsend, and ultimately they'd kept open a doorway that Keri had felt
was closed forever. She owed Shawn Martin so much, more than she'd ever been
able to repay. Her mind shifted to Jim
Calendar. Was it right to even consider
exploring a new relationship so soon…or ever?
Guiltily, she wandered about the room straightening
this and that before heading downstairs for breakfast. It wouldn't do to show the family the relaxed
habits she'd acquired in the "real" world over the past twelve
years. This was New Hope, not Los
Angeles, and local standards could not be denied. There were certain lifestyle expectations,
standards that had remained steadfast.
Any lessening of propriety would be frowned upon.
Climbing down the steep staircase, Keri and Sarah entered
the spacious dining room and looked around for the other members of the Corman
clan. Instead, they found the room
empty, and Rosetta clearing the remains of breakfast from the table.
"You must have been tired," she smiled,
clearing the last of the dishes from the table.
"Everyone's done already…all out tending to chores. What can I get you for breakfast?"
Oh Rosetta," Keri sighed in exasperation. "I guess I'm not functioning on New Hope
time yet. Don't bother about us! We'll just grab a couple of these leftover
muffins and some juice and we'll be fine," she continued, reaching for the
half empty juice pitcher. "Is
Mother up yet?" she asked?
Rosetta nodded, the concern on her face evident. "Yes…she didn't get much rest last
night. She doesn't seem to sleep much
any more. The doctor in Colorado City
gave her a prescription to help her, but she won't take it. She says that she doesn't want to miss a
single minute that she doesn't have to."
Keri's throat constricted, her voice mute with emotion. It would be like her Mother to want to
experience even these, her last days on earth.
No, she wouldn't want to waste a minute.
Why start now, after a lifetime of living every day to its fullest? Paulette Corman would give and give until
there was nothing left to share except the memory of her life and the way she'd
devoted it to those she loved.
Keri turned and poured fresh-squeezed orange juice
into three, small glasses, then, passing one to Sarah she nodded at the
still-warm corn muffins sitting on the sideboard and headed towards her
Mother's room.
"I'm going to see if your grandmother is awake,
Honey. Do you want to come in with
me?"
Sarah paused, her indecision evident. Paulette Corman might be her grandmother, but
they were strangers, and her mother needed this time to be alone with her, to
repair their fractured lives. Besides,
the frail woman in the large, sunny bedroom would be gone soon, just like her
father was. It didn't pay to make an
emotional investment in people like that.
It hurt too much in the end.
Slowly Sarah shook her head, then gathered up a fresh
muffin layered in sweet, pure country butter, and headed for the door. " I'm going to eat out on the porch,
Mom. Then, maybe I'll look around some,
okay?" she asked, already edging toward her escape hatch.
Keri watched, puzzled, as Sarah left the room. Her daughter was changing, she
thought…becoming harder to "read".
Was this reaction something she'd have to get used to, or was it just a
passing phase? Paulette would be disappointed, of that she was sure, but it
wouldn't pay to force her daughter to interact with her ailing
grandmother. That would only spell
heartache all the way around, and she'd had enough of that.
Keri sighed, then turned and resignedly made her way
towards the front bedroom. Maybe she
could get her mother to eat something, to sip a little juice while they
talked. Slowly she approached the door,
tentatively raising her hand to knock, then lowering it once more to her
side. It wouldn't do to wake her Mother
if, in fact, sleep had finally blessed her, and so she slowly turned the knob
instead and silently peeked beyond into the sunny corner bedroom.
What she saw gave her pause. For there, in the glowing rays of the morning
sun sat her Father, his back against the aging headboard, his fingers gently
stroking the pale brow of the woman he'd loved for over a third of a century.
She didn't know why, perhaps would never know why, but
the sight caused her vision to blur, her throat to constrict in a way that no
physician could ever remedy. She'd never
seen her Father in that light before. Gentle. Loving. The cold spot in her heart that had harbored
his memory for so long simply wouldn't allow it… couldn't accept it. And so, backing away she closed the sight
from her view, choosing instead to join her daughter on the sun porch with her
fistful of muffin.
Even at this early hour, the relentless Arizona summer
was already promising another scorcher.
Except for the gentle breeze that followed the Virgin River along its
twisted path, it would already have bordered on stifling. Keri thought back to her nice air-conditioned
house in the ocean side suburb of Long Beach.
It would be cool there now, the morning sun warming the waters of the
bay, the sounds of the gulls riding the thermals along the shore in search of
an easy meal.
But not here…never here. Air-conditioning was unheard of in New Hope,
a fanciful luxury for people out of sync with God's environment. Instead, the homes in this fundamentalist
community were built in the old style, before the invention of climate control,
with high ceilings, and basements from which cool air was continually drawn
upward into the house as the heat rose and escaped through the ceiling vents. Thick walls, heavy with insulation kept the
evening temperatures preserved as long as possible into the day, and window
shutters, closed when and where the direct rays caressed the panes, kept the
sun at bay from sunrise until sunset. Those who chose to stay here
adjusted…those who didn't were free to cool their heels in the outside world.
Keri shielded her eyes as the morning sun assaulted
her senses. Where was Sarah? She was supposed to be…
And then she spied her, out on the dusty driveway,
talking to…Jim Calendar.
Instantly a tiny prickle made its way from the base of
her scalp, a flush, a slow pink-tinged trail that spread and widened until it
announced her ambivalence to one and all.
Disconcerted, she lowered her gaze, praying that neither her daughter
nor her former lover would notice her discomfiture… but, to her dismay, it became instantly apparent that such would
not be the case.
Sarah's eyes, so focussed only seconds before, now
became confused, questioning as she searched her Mother's face. Then, with startling clarity…she knew. Keri's very presence proclaimed the secret
she was trying so hard to disguise. It
was obvious…her Mother still had feelings for this tall, gentle stranger. He'd been the first love of her life. Would he now be the last?
"Mom? She questioned hesitantly. "Earth to Mom. Come in…come in!"
Keri shook her head and laughed. Leave it to Sarah to sweep the cobwebs out of
a situation. Her timing was perfect.
"What are you three conspiring about?" she
smiled, shading her face with the shadow of her hand. "I leave you alone for one minute, and
you're out in the street organizing an army."
Sarah laughed again, the same laugh that had carried
her through the last two, troubled years.
"Paranoia, Mom, it's a sign of senility. You must be getting old!"
With that, Keri smiled, letting the warm waves of
laughter wash over her. Sarah was
incredible. Someday she would be a woman
to take note of…a woman who could cope with life and the world around her as
few others could. Already she could read
her mother like a book, the worn pages speaking to her in a language that
defied words. Just imagine what the
years would bring...
"So what's going on here?" Keri joked. "Something I should worry about? You look like you have something on your
mind."
"Mom!", Sarah bubbled. "Did you know that the kids here take
inner tubes out in the river on hot afternoons sometimes?"
A wide grin split the young mother's face. Did she know!
Of course she knew! She'd done the very same thing herself, every summer
afternoon until she finally left for the outside world. She could almost feel the cool water swirling
around her body now, tickling her legs, chilling her backside. They were good memories…the best, and now
time had come full circle and apparently it was her daughter's turn.
"Yes, I seem to remember something like
that," she teased, "from back in the old days…prehistory… clinging to
the last of my decrepit brain cells.
Just make sure you don't go drifting downstream. You could end up halfway to Las Vegas!"
"Then I can go?" Sarah asked excitedly. "Really?"
"Well, why not?" Keri answered
cautiously. "I don't see any
harm. Who's going to be there?"
With that Sarah paused, preparing to size up her
Mother's reaction. "Just Jeremy and
I." she began, "…and Jim."
Keri was breathless, a faraway look capturing her
gaze. Her daughter would be tubing with
Jim and his son? The thought brought
back memories…too many. It seemed like
only yesterday that she and Jim Calendar had done much the same thing, but alone,
floating weightlessly in the cool water, touching as though by accident as
their tubes collided in the current, finding excuses to steal a glimpse of each
other's bodies… yearning for more. Life
had an uncomfortable way of sneaking up behind you, she reflected…life and Jim
Calendar.
"So…'Jim' is it now? Whatever happened to 'Mr. Calendar'?"
she chided, trying to recapture her balance.
"Since when did you three get so chummy?"
"Fair's fair, Keri. You told Jeremy to call you by your first
name, remember? You don't really mind, do you?" he asked, finally adding
his voice to the equation.
"Besides, the kids seem to be hitting it off so well…I didn't see
any harm in it. So, would it be all
right if I take them tubing this afternoon?
I'll keep my eye on 'em. You've
got my word." he smiled, attempting a poorly executed scout salute. "I won't let them out of my sight."
Keri hesitated.
She wasn't sure if she liked her daughter becoming so close to this echo
from her past, but what were the alternatives?
Should she have Sarah sit on the porch all day and watch the little
parade of New Hope pass by on the dusty road to nowhere? Tubing on the Virgin would be a much more
interesting alternative, to be sure.
Finally, perhaps against her better instincts, Keri
nodded her head. "Okay," she
assented," but I don't want her riding downstream…just near the pecan
grove, alright?"
"Oh Mom…" Sarah moaned, but her eyes held
the sparkle of new horizons to be explored.
"You worry too much. You
know that?"
Keri attempted a weak response, but only a muted
"um…" seeped past her rigidly held features. She hadn't worried about Shawn…not at
all. He'd made his living driving an inter-city
bus…had for almost twenty years. He'd
been a good driver, a great driver, and yet it was a highway accident that took
his life. Why didn't fate take better
care of the people you loved? It wasn't
something you could count on. Ever.
"Just near the grove, right?" she persisted,
her stance immovable. "Otherwise
it's a 'no go'. When does this dip take
place anyway?" she asked, brushing the frown from her eyes. "This
morning?"
It was Jim's turn to chime in again now, and shaking
his head he replied "No…I need to get the tubes ready, or borrow
some. Later, maybe this afternoon. We can work up an appetite for supper. Maybe I'll even fish a little while the kids
are in. You still like chub, Keri? It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Keri swallowed hard at the memory. It hadn't been chub they'd been fishing for
all those long, lazy afternoons. In fact
fishing had been the last thing on their minds.
It had been more the cool seclusion of the riverbank, the privacy
afforded by the aged and drooping cottonwoods that they'd craved. The shadows of their past were disturbing in
more ways than one.
Finally, resignedly, she nodded. Jim was a responsible person…and if he
wasn't, she had a sneaking suspicion that Sarah was responsible enough for all
of them. They'd be fine, much as she'd
been all those long years past. Tubing
on the Virgin was a good idea, in fact…one that she should have thought of
herself.
"Just let me know when you take off, okay?"
she'd added, more out of form than necessity, for in New Hope you didn't need
to keep people informed. They already
knew everything there was to know. But,
they hadn't known about her and Jim all those long years ago…or had they?
Quickly she brushed the thought from her mind. No one could be that cruel. Surely, if they'd known about her fledgling
relationship with Jim, his father wouldn't have…
But that was best kept for another day…or never. That was then, this is now, she thought. Keep things in perspective, steady on. There were trials enough to deal with in the
present. Slowly, her mind traveled back
to the frail and loving woman in the big, sunny front bedroom. How long before…
Her mind shifted once again, no longer preoccupied
with river tubes and Virgin River chub.
Slowly her gaze returned to the front "stoop" of the Corman
household, and took in the sight of her bent and aging Father making his way
toward the shed out back where his work boots awaited.
Today would be a long day, she reflected as she made
her way back to the homestead, to her Mother's side…long and
heart-rending. But, not long enough for
Paulette Corman, never long enough for her.
How precious life is when only the twilight of it remains. How desperately we wrap its tattered vestige
around those we love…until finally, in the end, it fades and vanishes, part of
a never-ending cycle from which there is no appeal.
Slowly she turned and climbed the weathered stairs,
back to the porch, back to the dawn-streaked room in which her Mother lay. Yes, today would be long, the final, complex
threads in the tapestry of a rich and caring life…but what of tomorrow, and all
the tomorrows to follow?
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8
Her eyes were closed as Keri entered the room, as
though to savor the pristine purity of each moment as it passed. Her daughter was uncertain at first…what if
she was finally asleep? She paused, a
hesitation as the dust motes drifted lazily through the thin slats on the
window, then approached the still bundle that occupied the bed before her.
"Oh, Keri.
Come on in…sit here," Paulette murmured through lips parched and
dry. "I was just resting my eyes,
but I'd know your sound anywhere."
Keri crossed the polished wooden floor, its braided
rag throw rug muffling the passage of her feet as she approached. Then, leaning forward, she settled herself
where her Mother had indicated. It was
warm there, she noted…recently occupied.
Her Father's imprint still remained where he had so gently filled the
room with his presence. What was it in
Isaac Corman that had attracted her Mother to him in the first place, she
wondered…attracted her still. Was there
more than she knew to this stern and unyielding man? Was it possible?"
"Sarah didn't come, did she?" her Mother
asked, the answer already evident.
"I can't blame her. This has
to be hard for her…confusing. She
doesn't know me…never will I guess."
Suddenly, Keri saw herself in her Mother's shoes…her
Mother's life, and realized that there was nothing her Mother could have done
so long ago except make a futile gesture.
But, she'd paid the price anyway…paid in the worst way a Mother could,
and now all she asked was forgiveness in the final hours of her life.
Another pause, large and conspicuous filled the
room. That Paulette was correct went
without saying, but the rightness of the situation was still in question. Maybe nothing could be changed. Maybe the cards for this hand had been dealt
long ago in the loft on her eighteenth birthday…but she could try. There was always that, wasn't there? Twelve years of useless torment was
enough. It had to be. Everything comes to an end at some
point. Let it be now, she prayed
silently. For her Mother's sake, and
hers, let it be now. As the final
curtain closes, let this be a time of peaceful consolation for them both.
She made a promise to herself then, a promise deep
down where the world couldn't choose up sides, that Sarah would come to know
her grandmother while there was still time.
She swore that Sarah would have the opportunity to build at least one
pale memory to mark Paulette's having been a part of her life…part of her
passage.
They began to talk then, mother and daughter, in a way
that they hadn't considered possible for so very long. In the hours that followed they talked of
Shawn, the kind and compassionate man who had kept the spark alive, of the
feasts and famines that had plagued New Hope over the years. They talked of the strengths and drawbacks of
isolation, both personal and as a lifestyle, and of the mellow progression of
years that had separated them both physically and emotionally.
They talked of Sarah then, of her toddler years, of
the time she'd wedged the cap of a pen deep in her left nostril and had to be
taken to the emergency room. They spoke
of Sarah's first day at school, when both she and Shawn had watched from behind
a large oak tree during recess, just to be sure everything would be all
right. Then they spoke of the last two
years without him, after that terrible accident had torn him from her life.
It was as though the past twelve years were replaying
in slow motion, isolated clips edited for her Mother's ears alone. A dozen years could be a lifetime when you'd
missed them all, and Keri was determined to let her Mother would know that
things had been alright, that life with Shawn had been good.
"Why didn't you have more children, Keri?"
her Mother asked, finally. "Shawn
sounds like the kind of man who would have loved a house full. What made the two of you decide that one was
the perfect number?"
Keri's eyes glazed then as she remembered the many
years they'd tried to give Sarah a baby brother or sister. The drugs, the basal body readings, the
uncertain lifestyle wrapped around the evasive miracle of conception. But, in the end it hadn't been enough…nothing
had. There'd never been a second child
to use the sturdy white-painted crib again…never another to suckle gently at
her breast.
It was something she never talked about, something she
avoided, but maybe after all of these years this was the time to lighten her
load. Maybe now…
"Shawn wasn't able to have children,
Mother," she began softly. "We
tried…everything, but it didn't help. We
even thought seriously of adopting once.
We would have gone through with it except for the accident, then…"
Her Mother softly closed a pale hand over hers, the
feeble force of her life flowing through them both. She could see the pain in her daughter's
eyes, the cost of her revelation, but she had to ask.
"Then Sarah…?" she began.
Somewhere, in the silence, the answer lay between
them, a wordless confirmation of what Paulette Corman already knew deep down in
her heart. The timing, the
resemblance…it was all there. Sarah was
not the biological child of Shawn Martin at all. She was the daughter of Jim Calendar.
"Will you tell him, Keri?" she whispered
gently, her strength faltering.
"He's her father. Don't you
think he has a right to know?"
Keri's voice rose in the stillness then, conviction
strong in her eyes. "Shawn was
Sarah's Father, Mother. In every way
that's important, Sarah is Shawn Martin's daughter. He's the one that snipped the cord in the
delivery room, the one who traded quarters for her baby teeth in the middle of
the night…the one who fought to make the junior baseball team accept girls when
she wanted to play…not Jim. We have
separate lives now, Mother. Something
like this would only complicate them.
Some things are better off left unsaid.
Her Mother's eyes grew solemn, filling with
memories…of a specific memory in a loft so long ago.
"Some things, maybe…but are you sure this is one
of them, Keri? I can tell you from deep
down in my soul, that the things you don't say can hurt every bit as much as
the things you do…and that you rarely get a second chance to make it
right. Think hard before you let it slip
away, Keri…for my sake? Please?"
Keri's eyes gazed tenderly at the thin, shaking hand
that covered her own. There was a time
when she thought it was strong enough to carry the world, but no longer. Her Mother was just a woman…nothing more or
less…and the words that had gone unspoken in the hayloft had haunted her for
over a decade.
Indecision wove jagged patterns through her
consciousness. What would Shawn
want? What would he do? Of all the discordant thoughts that raced
through her mind, that was the easiest to resolve. Shawn Martin would take the "high
road", always the high road.
Selfless as ever, he would want Sarah to have a father, even if it
couldn't be him.
And Sarah? How
would this revelation affect her? Of all
people, she had a right…no, a need to know.
Keri thought of the times that she'd been asked to include her family's
medical history in waiting rooms and hospital corridors. Up until now, she'd filled in Sarah's
paperwork herself, but the time would come when Sarah would have to do it
alone, and for her children, and she had to know the truth.
That left Jim.
Of course he'd want to know, but what then? Would he want to share in their lives…in
Sarah's life? Would he insist on his
parental rights, perhaps even custodial privileges? Could she possibly share her Sarah with a man
she hadn't even seen in twelve long years?
The very thought sent bolts of panic through her
system. No! She'd suffered one loss already. She couldn't take the chance on parting with
Sarah as well, but in the same instant she knew she had no choice. Shawn would want it, Sarah needed it, and she
herself knew, however reluctantly, where her responsibility lay. It was time to reveal the secret that she and
Shawn had kept so faithfully, but could she do it…and how?
Paulette's eyes were closed now. Sleep had finally given her a reprieve from
her perpetual vigilance, and so Keri carefully rose from her place by her
Mother's side and made her way toward the door.
Hours had flown by as they'd recounted the years, and as Keri walked out
on the sun porch once more she found the afternoon in full bloom.
The burden she had carried for so long felt lighter
now, the weight of it shared at last.
Squinting into the afternoon sun, she knew what she had to do, but it
would come in her own time…at her own pace.
First she had to get to know this older version of Jim Calendar, to
trust him before she opened her life to his intimate inspection…but where was
he?
Then she remembered.
Tubing! The three of them had
planned on tubing the Virgin this afternoon.
They'd be down by the pecan grove, splashing in the dappled coolness of
the water as it passed onward toward Lake Mead and Hoover Dam, and ultimately
on to the Gulf of California.
With a smile that belied her inner turmoil, she made
her way behind the homestead and on past the barn toward the terrace above the
slow moving river. Already she could
feel the sun sapping the vitality from her pores, her energy evaporating into
the afternoon heat. Maybe she'd just
jump in with them, she mused, or at least dangle her legs in the chill water as
she passed the time of day.
Again the images of afternoons past filtered through
her memory. Yes, there were good
memories here, but they had come to an abrupt end. New Hope was no place for a woman, at least
not a woman who wanted any control over her life. Polygamy might work for some, but not for
everyone, and in New Hope a woman did as she was told. She was glad that Sarah was able to enjoy the
simple pleasures of this place now, to form warm memories to take with her into
the world beyond, but she was glad too that they would be leaving. She wouldn't raise a daughter here…not now or
ever.
But, she needed to deal with one thing at a time. For now there was an afternoon filled with
sunshine and laughter…not something to throw away in this day and age. Tomorrow would come soon enough…and all the
tomorrows after that.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 9
She found them right where she knew they'd be,
laughing in the bright afternoon heat as the slow gray-green water swirled
lazily along its narrow channel on the sandy bottom of the flood plain. It was a beach of sorts, this spot, worn
level by the countless seasonal floods that had passed this way since time
immemorial. But not today, she
thought. Today the sky was an unbroken
field of blue, unblemished save for a lazy hawk circling far to the north. Willows nodded their sleepy heads along the
shore, and the sound of laughter filled the stillness. It was a day to enjoy…to feel alive. It was a day to share.
Slowly she made her way down the slope, carefully
wending her way between the exposed roots of the tamarisk and willow trees,
along the twisted pathway bounded by rabbit brush and arrow weed, then finally
along the boggy bottom where the reeds grew in rigid profusion. And then she was free, the sun shining hot
and penetratingly on her face once more, the course gravel beneath her feet.
She could hear the children splashing now, hear their
muted giggles as they tickled each other and swore that a snapping turtle was
about to attack. They were happy,
carefree as children should be but rarely were in a complicated world such as
this. It felt good just to hear them.
She turned her head then to see how Jim was doing
downstream, to assess his futile attempt at fishing amidst this cacophony of
mirth. What she saw brought a smile to
her lips. True to his nature, Jim was
patiently untangling his fishing line from the reeds when she approached.
"I think the fish are out there," she
offered teasingly. "You know…a
little to your left…that wet stuff."
"RRRR…" came his murmured response. "I can remember when you went fishing
without ever getting your line wet as well, Lady."
A slow tingle crept upward from beneath her
collar. He certainly knew what to
say…the right words to use to evoke the intimate memories of their past. She could remember them as well…poles in
hand, working their way downstream for a day of 'fishing' on the Virgin. Sometimes they'd hike for miles, almost to
the mouth of Hollow Wash before they'd put aside the pretence that fish had
anything to do with the excursion. Then,
curling together beneath the massive cottonwoods they'd talk about their
dreams, their passions until they knew it was time to go once more, time to
leave before their tender explorations became something more than they could
control.
They'd come so close, so close…but she'd trusted him,
and he'd never betrayed that trust…never hurt her. Was it the same now, she wondered? Was this the same man she'd known so long
ago, or had life and love in the great world beyond changed him as it had
her? It was something she needed to
know, needed to be sure of before…
"Looks like there won't be any chub
tonight," she laughed.
"…unless they look like cattails.
I think I'll just sit on that ledge over there and make you
nervous." she teased.
She turned in her tracks then, and retraced her steps
back to the small ledge almost hidden in the rabbit brush, tucked in the shade
beneath an old and drooping willow.
Already she felt the blessed relief of the shade caress her heated
skin. It would be nice to wade in the
river, she thought, to cool herself in the chilled mountain runoff, but not
today. Today was for other things…other
thoughts.
Smiling, she leaned back against the rocky outcropping
and felt the hard chill of the stone against her spine. It was nice here, so nice. She could just close her eyes and…
"So, how is your car doing?" he asked,
jolting her from her reverie.
Quickly she opened her eyes once more, squinting into
the sun, and saw his wavering silhouette before her. He was larger now, she thought, certainly not
taller, but more solidly built, stronger in body and presence. The shadow that he cast went far beyond any sense
of light and darkness, beyond that which the eye could detect. It reached inside of her, touching her like a
living thing…. like a whisper between her thighs.
She cleared her throat, her mind, and redirected her
thoughts toward more appropriate channels.
"Fine, I hope," she replied, her voice tentative. "The last time I saw it there were three
boys who couldn't grow a single whisker between them hauling the trunk's hood
off down the road. It may never 'dance'
again!" she moaned theatrically.
He grew solemn then, as if he knew how irreplaceable
the aging but necessary vehicle was to her.
"I'm really sorry though. I
mean that. I'll do some checking on it
this afternoon. If it doesn't end up as
good as new I want you to tell me. I'm
serious!"
She laughed.
"It's about ten years too late for 'as good as new", Jim. But, if it can still get us where we need to
go, I'll be a happy camper."
He turned and began to settle himself beside her on
the secluded ledge. "Whatever made
you bring a car like that way out…" and then he paused. It was a foolish question, an embarrassing
one. Obviously she'd had no choice. It was all she had. She was a widow with a young child…an
unemployed student, according to the local gossip. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure it
out. Times must have been hard for Keri
after her husband had died. Even if
there had been an insurance settlement, nothing lasted forever. It would only be sensible for a woman in her
position to ration her resources for as long as she could.
He wondered how long the meager bankroll he'd pressed
into her hands that night on the highway had lasted, how long before she'd
become settled…how long before she'd turned to Shawn Martin. It was something he couldn't ask, something
he had no right to know. Any claim he
had to her life had ended on that darkened highway so long ago. He'd known it even then as he'd watched the
taillights of the bus dwindle and fade into the darkness. But somehow he'd hoped…he'd always hoped.
"Hey!" she blurted out. "I thought you weren't going to let
those two out of your sight? Some
babysitter you are!" she chastised.
He turned his head quickly then, and scanned the murky
shoreline. Yawning, he stretched his
back, letting out a throaty sigh.
"They're okay, Keri, but if you want me to stay down by the water's
edge, I'll…"
"No, that's all right. I know I'm being silly. We can see them from here…it's only about
twenty yards away, and they're both good swimmers it seems. It's just…I guess I'm feeling a little
overprotective these days." She offered in hushed tones, as though the
truth of it was more than she could comfortably share. "Losing someone you love does that to a
person."
Jim's eyes searched her face then, as though he was
debating with himself the wisdom of opening yet another door into his private
little world, allowing his vulnerability to show. Finally, casting another glance at the two
giggling adolescents, he slipped his arm between her head and the rocky pillow
beneath, and began to speak.
”I can imagine," he began haltingly. "I
almost lost Jeremy this last spring."
He paused to clear his throat, then continued slowly onward, determined
to share this with her…certain that she needed to know…could understand.
"'Having children is like giving hostages to
fate'," he quoted. "Rose
Kennedy said it, or something like it.
You can't be with them every minute…can't protect them from everything. It's frustrating. Terrifying.
It makes you hold on with a grip so strong that you crush the very life
out of the one you're trying to protect.
Sometimes you just have to pry your fingers loose and give them a chance
to breathe."
"Like you do with Jeremy?" she questioned,
her response pointing to the obviously obsessive dependency of Jeremy on his
Father.
He nodded into the shade of the trees, as though she
had ceased to be there at all, forgotten in the maelstrom of his mind. "Yeah," he replied softly, "That's a hard one. I wish I knew the answer there, but I'm
working on it. Wish kids came with manuals,"
he smiled.
Then, as though he needed to purge himself of the
memory, the tortured echo that refused the light of day, he forged onward. "Jeremy was in a hostage situation at
school this spring," he murmured.
It was a crazy thing…made no sense at all."
Keri's eyes widened at his disclosure. She'd heard about such things, even had a
friend who'd known someone who'd been through it. It was a dread that had plagued her more and more
often as the frequency of it became almost common in the news. But now…this fragile child…Jeremy?
She touched his cheek with fingers meant to sooth, to
take the pain from his eyes. "He
wasn't…?" she began.
"Hurt? No,
he got out okay, but his teacher didn't.
It was just before spring break.
Two eighth-graders, emotionally disturbed kids, decided they'd had
enough crap from the world and wanted to make the school and the people in it
pay for their miserable lives…so they did."
Keri felt a chill run down her spine. It was as though he'd peeked into her worst
nightmare…only he'd actually lived it.
"They waited until lunchtime," he continued,
as though nothing could stop the mad rush of his thoughts, "when most of the kids were in the
lunchroom. Then they took a couple of
handguns from their lockers and started firing at random around the cafeteria,
trying to build their courage, probably."
Again he paused.
"Jeremy's teacher was on lunch duty that
day. She was standing next to him when
one of the boys began to wave the gun in his direction." He rubbed his chin, as though massaging the
pain. "She stepped between Jeremy
and the kid…reached for the gun, and it went off. Things went from bad to worse after
that."
He spoke quickly now, as though to rush unscathed past
the ache that was building inside of him.
"The boys panicked then.
They probably wanted to run, but they must have been scared. Somewhere, someone had heard the shooting,
and in minutes snipers, swat teams and hostage mediators had surrounded the
school. The teenagers held the roomful
of kids hostage for two hours before the authorities talked them out."
It was there he stopped, but Keri had to know the
rest. "And Jeremy. How was Jeremy?"
Jim's eyes traveled down the slope toward the timid
child, only now just learning to laugh again.
"We found him in the lunchroom after all the kids had left. Alone.
Sitting beside his teacher…covered in her blood. He's been afraid to leave my side ever
since."
Keri's eyes closed the distance between them and the
river's edge. How could one tiny boy deal
with so much pain and terror? Would he
ever get through it…could he? His scars,
so invisible, how deeply did they run?
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know. It must have been terrible…a nightmare. I can't imagine how any parent could…"
"…deal with it?" he finished. "When you're the only solid ground
around, you have to, just like you did with Sarah after her father died. You find the strength, and get on with
it."
Keri sat silently, weighing his words, feeling again
the helplessness that had overcome her after Shawn's death. Yes, you got on with it. When you had a child to protect, you put
aside your own personal misery and fought for life. You embraced what you had left with an
intensity that you'd never imagined…and you got on with it.
He understood.
She lay back against his arm then, feeling his
strength seeping through her hair, against her flesh. She felt so close…so close. A bond was forming, an old one to be sure,
but now a place where two adults could hold each other…and it frightened
her. How can you give all that you have
to someone, when it can so easily be taken away? How can you get past the memories that haunt
your dreams… your life…and try again?
As if guided by the memory of what they'd had, by the
promise of what might yet come to pass, her hand searched the airless reaches
between them for the comfort of his cheek, the consolation of his smile. His breath, warm and vibrant, filled her
hand, traveling along her body to blossom and grow inside of her. For the first time since Shawn's death she
wanted someone, wanted to feel the touch of a loving hand on her heated flesh,
wanted to feel the warm, liquid union that only a man and a woman can share.
Gently, he pressed a kiss into her palm, an intimate
acceptance of what now seemed so inevitable, so right. Then, slowly he cupped her chin, searching
her eyes for a sign that she felt the same…and found it. There, in the pale, blue mist of her gaze he
saw both the young girl he'd lost, and the mature woman who'd risen from her
resilient heart. He saw that dreams do
come true, and that fate is a patient and beautiful force in the universe. And, as his lips caressed hers, the last
thing he saw was the woman with whom he was meant to spend his life…his
Kerilynn.
For a moment, a tiny passage of time, nothing else
mattered. It was as though the world had
ceased to exist, that the last twelve years had never happened. Gone were the mute vestiges of other places,
other loves, and in their stead was the pure, unspoiled love that only the
innocent can share. But, it didn't
last…couldn't last, for life is a complicated maze of interconnected pathways,
and the twelve years they'd been apart had forever altered the youthful lovers
that they'd been. They were adults now,
with all of the baggage that the journey from innocence entails, and there was
no turning back.
As soon as they touched, their hands fell away, their
eyes searching the shoreline for inquisitive voyeurs. The kids, they were so quiet. Had they seen? A glance down the brushy slope said it
all. There, in the swirling water stood
Sarah, her gaze riveted to their spot beneath the willow, a whirl of emotions
making their way across her small, vulnerable features. What was she feeling, Keri wondered? Betrayal?
Did she see this as disloyalty to her father's memory? Was she right?
Suddenly, Jim's closeness seemed a betrayal to her as
well, and she stood to leave. The places
where his hands had touched, caressed, were cold now, chilled by the icy blast
of reality that coursed between them.
They were no longer free. Time
had seen to that. There were others to
be considered at this point, and their needs formed obligations that couldn't
be denied.
"I-I can't do this," she murmured, a
troubled expression claiming her features.
"It's too soon. Sarah…"
"I think Sarah can handle a lot more than you
give her credit for," he finished.
"Don't read more into this than you need to, Keri…for our
sake. I don't know where we stand
now…where this is leading, and neither do you.
But, if you close the door and shut me out, we'll never know. Take a chance, Keri. Trust me again. There aren't many 'do-overs' in life…almost
none. Give us a chance? Please?"
Confused, conflicted she turned once more to
leave. She needed time, of that she was
sure. She needed the solitude of her own
thoughts to sort things out…and she needed to talk to Sarah. Why did things have to be so complicated? Where were the fairytales when you needed
them? She could do with a little
"happily ever after" right about now.
Then, waving her hand at the children, stunned and
staring by the shore, she retraced her steps up the slippery slope and paused
once more in the pecan grove. Sarah
would be following by now, that was a given, so Keri wasn't surprised to see
her trudging up the pathway, dragging the heavy truck tube along behind. Who was the mother now, she wondered, and who
the daughter. It seemed that more and
more often the convoluted paths they trod were obscuring their roles. Why wasn't life simpler?
She waited until Sarah pulled abreast, then relieved
her daughter of the bulky burden slung over her shoulder.
"Something tells me that we have a lot of talking
to do," Keri said softly. Are you
very upset?"
Sarah looked up, her lips parted as if to speak, then
slowly closed her mouth in silence. Did
she have too many questions, or not enough, Keri wondered? Was what she'd seen
beneath the willows enough to sever the lines of communication between them?
Gently, Keri reached out and stroked her daughter's
hair, so fine and soft. "Whenever
you're ready," she whispered, as though to speak aloud would add chaos to
the moment. "We can talk about
anything, Sarah. We can talk about this
too."
Again her daughter turned to speak, but once more only
silence filled the air. Then, as though
to shelter her thoughts from the world, she turned and hurried along the
pathway toward the homestead, leaving Keri standing alone in the grove holding
the bulky, black rubber donut.
Keri sighed. If
her doubts had been strong before, they were overwhelming now. What she'd felt in Jim Calendar's arms had
been so good, so right…but what price was she willing to pay? Obviously, in spite of her mature outlook on
life, the thought of her mother with another man was disturbing to Sarah. Just how much did she owe to her relationship
with her daughter…to her memory of Shawn…to herself?
The path was empty now, behind her the deep rumbling
of Jim's voice as he summoned his son to head back to shore. Time for her to deal with whatever
repercussions awaited as well, she thought, heading slowly along the
trail. Sarah would be up in their room
changing at this point. Maybe they could
talk before this blew all out of proportion…
Quickly she made her way out of the grove and into the
sunshine of Arizona's perpetual summer.
It was a clear day, not uncommon in this part of the country, but with a
thin darkness brewing in the northern sky.
The monsoons would be arriving soon, she thought, her mind searching
this limited world for alternatives to play with. Temperatures would drop a little, and the
humidity would soar. Soon the Virgin
would fill with runoff from the mountainous areas along the Utah border, and
tubing would have to be done carefully to avoid the quick and merciless flash
flooding that had created the gorge and floodplain over so many eons. But not today, she thought…not today. The brief cloud formations that tickled the
horizon would stand no chance against the desert heat, evaporating long before
the first raindrop hit the ground. New
Hope would remain as parched and arid as it had been for the last two
months. Nothing changed here…nothing.
Sighing, she climbed the stairs into the shade of the
porch, tossing the heavy tube to the right of the doorway. What would she say? What would Sarah say? It was at times like this that she wished
Shawn was here. But then, if Shawn were
here she wouldn't be facing the complication of another man entering her life,
would she?
The kitchen door closed, a muted thump in the bustling
kitchen. All around, the sister wives
were sending steaming hot bowls of sumptuous concoctions into the dining
room. It was country fare, but hearty
and substantial.
Keri waited as one of her half-sisters passed by on
her way to the dining room with an enormous meatloaf, then made her way towards
the staircase and the bedrooms above.
Better to get this over with, she decided. Better to clear the air before things got any
more complicated between her and Jim.
She was here for a reason, one that had nothing to do with her social
life. Maybe Jim Calendar was more than
she could handle at this point. It was a
very real possibility.
The clattering of footsteps on the stairs above
brought her up short. She looked up just
in time to see Sarah come flying down along the banister, already in her
everyday wear, and heading for the kitchen.
It was then that mother and daughter paused, each warily eyeing the
other…each hoping that this would not be the moment to face the demon between
them.
"I-I promised to help set the table, Mom,"
Sarah offered haltingly.
"I…um…" and then her mouth closed, at a loss for words, an
awkward moment for both.
Keri recovered her composure. "I'll see you at supper then,
Honey," Keri replied. "I guess
I need to start pulling my weight around here as well, don't I?" She threw in a smile for good measure,
something to ease the banality of their passing, but it fell heavily between
them. This wasn't going to be easy, or
comfortable… but it needed to be soon.
They had to clear the air, and now.
Once upstairs, Keri headed for the antiquated
bathroom, unbuttoned her blouse, and began to wash the hot, sticky dust of the
fields from her body. It felt good, cool
and refreshing, even arousing to feel the cloth glide softly over her flesh.
What would it be like to feel a man's hands caressing her again, she
wondered…to feel his hands gently stroking her, bringing her to sweet fruition?
Angry at the direction her thoughts were leading, she
shook her head. Some things were beyond
her budget, and this looked like one of them.
She simply couldn't afford to become involved with Jim again. It would cost too much, much more than she
could spare…but still the memories lingered.
There was more between them, more than a physical attraction, and as
hard as she tried to deny it, it couldn't be ignored. She'd never expected to see him again, but
she'd never forgotten him. Was it time
to let her memory of him go? Did she
have a choice?
Keri returned to her room and changed into a clean
blouse, then made her way down toward the kitchen to offer a hand.
Entering the large, aromatic room she halted and
looked for her daughter. "Sarah's
not here?" she asked, surprised to find her daughter absent. "I thought she was on her way to help
set the table."
Rosetta, her arms filled with baskets of warm rolls,
turned and nodded toward Paulette's bedroom.
"Isaac's going to be busy for a while," she began, "so I
asked her to take Paulette's supper in to her a little while ago. She never came back out. Maybe that's a good thing…ya think so?"
she asked, cocking her head.
Now more confused than ever, Keri nodded. "Maybe," she agreed. "I hope so." Then, hefting a massive bowl of gravy, she
headed toward the dining room. "One
day at a time," she kept murmuring to herself. "One day at a time."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 10
The room was almost dark when she entered, the sun now
sinking on the western horizon, on another world far from her grandmother's
room. She'd knocked first, hesitantly as
if to say "This isn't where I want to be…what I want to be doing,"
but then she'd nudged the door with her toe and it had swung inward like
someone forming a muted embrace.
There was a small table by the bed, the kind you find
in hospital rooms, the kind that floated above the covers like a magic carpet,
anchored to the real world by a single support at one end.
That must be where the dinner was headed, she
guessed. If only she could be quiet enough,
tread softly enough, she could gently deposit the food where it was meant to go
and be on her way before her grandmother even knew she was there.
Lightly she crossed the floor, then began to gather
some photographs from the table to clear a place for the tray. Was the elder
Corman sleeping? She glanced in her
grandmother's direction, at the pale, softened features of the woman who had
brought her mother into the world.
Paulette's eyes were closed her breathing heavy and
rhythmic. She could like this woman, she
thought…love her…but she wouldn't.
Grandmother Corman would be gone soon, and the devastation left behind
was something she wouldn't risk again.
Not now. Not ever again.
She hesitated to be certain her Grandmother hadn't
heard, then relieved, she turned and made her way back toward the doorway. It was there that she realized she still had
her grandmother's photos in her hand.
Curiously, she raised one to her face, her eyes trying to pick out the
subject in the dim light of the room.
It was a child, that much was certain. Probably one of the "uncles", she
guessed. But no…it appeared to be a
girl, a young one, maybe five or six years old…and the dress! It couldn't be! She'd had one just like it, something she'd
chosen herself for her first day of school.
It was at home now, tucked away in a cedar chest in her mother's
closet. It wasn't a picture of one of
the many Corman children at all.
The picture was of her!
Sarah swallowed hard in amazement. Had her mother given this to her
grandmother? She didn't think so. She'd seen all of her "baby"
pictures, many times…and this wasn't one of them. Slowly, she began shuffling through the
rest…another one of her…and another.
They were all pictures of her, and none of them were familiar.
"I think you were the most beautiful baby I've
ever seen," her Grandmother whispered, "but don't tell anyone. I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's
feelings."
Sarah jumped.
How long had her Grandmother been awake…watching her? Had she seen the way she'd tried to sneak out
of the room?
"Would you like to sit with me a while,
Sarah? There's so much food here, I
don't eat much anymore. Maybe you could
help me?" Paulette said almost pleadingly, pointing to a thick slice of
pecan pie. "But only if you want
to. I'll understand if you…"
Suddenly, Sarah knew that she couldn't leave. The damage was done…the walls had been
breached. In one warm rush, her
grandmother had now become real to her, not just "some woman", but
her mother's mother…her own.
Slowly, Sarah retraced her steps and settled on the
foot of the bed. "Looks like good
pie," she said, filling in the silence. "I liked your cinnamon rolls
the other day too. Stuff tastes a lot
better here than it does in L.A.".
The older woman hesitated. "Maybe I can show you how to make them
before you go," her grandmother replied, a hopeful look in her eyes. "We could just use this table for our
workplace… and you could be my legs. I
think we'd make a great team."
Sarah worried her lower lip. It would be a memory, she realized…something
to miss later when it was all over…but somehow she didn't care. She wanted it anyway. And so she nodded, opening a tiny fissure
into the vulnerability she'd tried so hard to shield herself from ever feeling
again.
Slowly, Sarah's eyes searched the gaze of the pale and
fragile woman before her, testing her resolve one last time, the forkful of pie
she held in her hand settling back on the plate once more. Suddenly, all thoughts of leaving fled from
her mind, replaced instead by the unwavering peace she saw in her Grandmother's
eyes. This was someone she needed to
know, the young girl thought…someone who could teach her how to face the
tremors that shook her young world with strength and confidence… someone who
could approach the very end of her life and still be willing to make cinnamon
rolls.
Somehow, with the budding maturity that she held so
tentatively, she knew that to leave would be a mistake…something she'd always
regret…and so she stayed.
It was odd that no one came to look for her during
that visit alone in her grandmother's room, that no one intruded on the precious time they shared…but
no one did. And so the hours passed,
each moment weaving a trail through their lives that brought them closer
together.
They began slowly, discussing school, the fleeting
hardships of the long drive from Los Angeles, the boredom of the of the
never-ending interstate, the moment when the shifting sand had consumed their
left rear tire at the apex of the hill.
Then they journeyed closer to the heart and probed the tender memory of
Shawn Martin, the pain of loss, the bottomless void that remained even
now. Finally, Sarah began to probe the
thoughts that had whirled willy-nilly through her mind ever since she'd seen
her mother kissing Jim Calendar. Her
auburn brows knit in a scowl and she began to study her fingernails.
"What is it, Sarah?" her Grandmother prodded
gently. "Is something bothering
you? Is it something you want to talk
about?" Her shaking fingers slipped
beneath the young girl's chin, raising her uncertain gaze into view once
more. "I don't have all the
answers, Sweetheart, but I'm a good listener.
Can I help?"
Again Sarah scowled.
Should she? Would Grandma Corman
tell her mother of their conversation?
She sighed, a quaking, shivering breath, then made up her mind. No, her Grandmother wouldn't tell. The gentle assurance that she saw in Paulette
Corman's eyes told her as much. And so,
as she picked at the edges of a roughened fingernail, the words began to
flow…slowly at first, then in a tortured flood that had been held back way to
long.
"It's Jim Calendar," she began with a gasp,
as though defying the very breath in her body to stop her. "I don't know how to feel about him and
Mom. It's really tearing me up!"
She stopped for a second, bringing the hard flung words under control,
steadying herself to continue.
"Grandma, I know that my Mom shouldn't spend the
rest of her life alone. I know how much
she misses my Dad, and how lonesome she gets…but it just seems so…so…"
"Like she's forgetting him too soon?"
Paulette finished. "Like if your
mother moves on with her life, then your dad's memory will be lost?"
A warm, salty trickle began to make its way from the
corner of Sarah's eye, trailing along the contours of her nose, downward toward
her trembling lips. "I'm so
STUPID!" she cried. "I'm being
a baby. But I see the way she looks at
him, and it's like…different, you know?
Like the way she used to look at my Dad, and it makes me want to HATE
him!" Angrily, she rapped the spoon
on the tabletop, as though the very sound itself could set things to
right.
"You're gonna tell me I'm wrong, aren't
you?" she questioned with the instinctive wariness of youth for old
age. "You're gonna say 'You'll
understand when you're older…' aren't you?" Sarah looked up, the challenge in her eyes
plain to see.
Instead, Pauline covered Sarah's hand with her own,
running her thumb soothingly along the palm and said nothing for a moment. Finally, she began to speak, her tone hushed
and thoughtful, as though remembering another time.
"Your feelings are just as real as anyone else's,
Sarah, and just as painful. I'd never
dismiss them like that…I couldn't."
"I wish I had an answer for you, I really
do," she continued. "You're
right about not wanting your Mother to spend her life alone. It wouldn't be fair at all, but she wants
what's best for you too, you know. If
she sees that a relationship with Jim will hurt you, she'll back away. I think you know that already. Are you sure it's Jim Calendar that you're
really angry with, or with yourself because you can't feel what you think will
make your Mother the happiest?"
Sarah began to sob then, as though the last facade had
fallen into the dust and she'd been left childlike and vulnerable for the
entire world to see. "I don't know
what's right," she hiccuped.
"It's like I can't move…like some giant hand is holding me back. Is that stupid?"
Paulette closed her eyes then, as though groping in
the dark for a memory, a feeling that needed to rise once more from the ashes
of her life before it could finally be laid to rest. "Decisions are hard sometimes,
Sweetheart," she said, "…and people don't always make the right ones. I wish I could tell you that everything
always comes out fine in the end…but it doesn't. Sometimes you just have to live with a bad
decision and try to find a way to forgive yourself someday. I know I've made my share, but the one that
hurt the most was the one that cost me my daughter. Maybe…if I had any advice to give you…it
would be to try and look past what you're feeling right now, try to think what
you'll feel like a few years from now.
But, whatever you decide, try not to let it come between you and your
Mother. That would be something to really
regret. Trust me on that one. It's something I know about."
Sarah raised her eyes toward the half-opened slats of
the window blinds. The sun had long
since set, and a thin, pale strip of moonlight cast lengthening shadows across
the darkened road. How long had she been
with her Grandmother? How long had she
been here, and why hadn't anyone come looking for her?
Sarah leaned forward then, and laid her head on her
Grandmother's shoulder. "I'll think
about it, Grandma," she promised, "and thanks for not treating me
like a kid."
Paulette smiled.
"I know you'll make the right decision, Sweetheart. And…thanks for not treating me like an old
fool."
Sarah brushed her lips across her Grandmother's
wrinkled brow, then turned and headed toward the door. "Can I visit again, Grandma? I mean, just the two of us like this?"
Paulette nodded, a look of peaceful contentment on her
face. "I'd like that, Sarah. Anytime you want."
Silently, Sarah closed the door behind her, then made
her way toward the staircase. Yes, it
would be another memory, she thought, but a treasured one, and maybe a lesson
to remember. Sometimes you can shield
yourself from too much…and lose something precious in the process. Maybe a few risks were what gave life its
vitality and richness. She'd think about
this night long after her decision had been made, and remember…
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 11
Keri lay in her bed, listening for her daughter's
telltale footsteps on the stairs. She'd
been gone so long! What in the world had
Sarah and her Mother found to talk about so far into the night? Already, the Corman household, farm people,
had taken care of their evening chores and filed into bed. Morning came early around here, she reminded
herself. Would her Father be waiting
until he could take Sarah's place in the large, front bedroom? Would he once more spend the night soothing her Mother to sleep?
Then she heard it, the soft tread rising on the
staircase beyond.
Sarah.
Slowly the door opened, and Keri made out the small,
thin silhouette of her daughter in the moonlight.
"Sarah?" she whispered. "Are you alright, Honey? You were gone so long."
Sarah let out a deep sigh, a sound far older than she
had any right to be. "I'm fine,
Mom. Grandma and I had a good talk
tonight. She's going to teach me how to
make cinnamon rolls."
"Cinnamon rolls?
That's what you talked about for so long…cinnamon rolls? That's all?" Keri prodded.
Sarah smiled.
"You already know it wasn't, Mom.
We talked about a lot of things.
You. Me. Dad…and we talked about Jim too. I think Grandma Corman's a good lady, Mom…she
really is."
Keri stared at the thin strips of moonlight stretched
across the beamed ceiling, and wondered what to say next…how to ask what was on
her mind. Had they talked about the
reason she and her Mother hadn't spoken for so long, about the animosity that
had filled her heart after that night in the hayloft? Had they talked about the way it had been
between her and Jim that summer before…?
"Yes, she is," Keri responded, trying to
fill the gap with something even remotely reasonable. "It took me a while to remember that,
but I agree. She is a good lady,
Sweetheart. And, that cinnamon roll
recipe, that's not something she shares with just anyone. You must have really gotten close down
there."
Sarah stared into the variegated moonlight, as if
gauging how much to say, and how much to leave in silence. Finally, nodding her head she replied,
"Yes, we did. I guess it took me a
while to figure that out too, Mom, but I'm glad I did."
Then silently, in the shadow of the room, Sarah shed
her clothing and popped her nightgown over her head. Tomorrow was another day, filled with
possibilities. Maybe things would seem
more positive then. Maybe Jim Calendar
would look better in the light of her conversation with her Grandmother. She'd have to think on that one…roll it
around in her mind a little, but she knew one thing already. She wanted her Mother to be happy once again,
and if Jim was the answer to that, then she wouldn't stand in their way. She could bury her feelings, in fact she'd
become an expert at it since her Father had died. No one would ever know.
Then, as though they'd actually been having the
conversation that occupied both of their minds, Sarah opened her mouth to
continue. "Mom? I know you're worried about what I think of
Jim and you…I mean after today especially, but you don't have to. It's okay.
I'm not a dumb kid, Mom. If you
want to have a lover I can handle it."
"Sarah!" Keri exclaimed, hearing her
daughter use that ever-so-adult word.
"He's not my lover! It's
been twelve years since I've seen him, and a lot of life has passed by since
then. The fact is, I haven't made up my
mind about Jim myself, so you needn't accept it so easily. But…I do appreciate it, Honey. I would never want to hurt you, you know
that?"
The words, spoken so spontaneously, so intently, lay
like a presence between them, a silent echo of what Paulette Corman had said
only moments before. It was a maze with
no end, a perpetual whirl of self-sacrifice.
"Like mother, like daughter," as the saying goes, but where
did it end?
"I like Jim, Mom," Sarah lied, forcing the
deception from her lips. "And if
he's someone who makes you happy, then he makes me happy too."
There! It had
been said, there was no turning back now.
Sarah closed her troubled eyes and blocked out the moon-struck room in
New Hope, replacing it instead with the vision of her Father that so often
filled her nocturnal fantasies. Would he
be pleased, she wondered. Would he? And in that instant she knew.
He would.
-----------------------------
Saturday morning dawned bright and blazing, as almost
all Arizona mornings have a tendency to do in the heat of summer. The sky, a clear, untroubled azure, was
cloudless and serene with only the occasional hawk to mar its unbroken surface.
Keri and Sarah had long since risen and made their
beds for the day. They'd shared a hearty
breakfast with the rest of the Corman clan, and helped with the kitchen chores
before settling onto the porch swing to watch the sun peek over the eastern
horizon.
Keri would have liked to share her morning with her
Mother, making up for lost time in a world where time was so very precious…but
at the moment she would have been an intrusion.
Her father had been absent from the breakfast table that morning, and it
was obvious, even to her just where he was.
Rosetta hadn't said anything, she didn't have to, but the plate of ham
and eggs that accompanied Paulette's oatmeal tray said volumes. And so she'd decided to wait…to take her
peace where she found it and bide her time until her
father made his way into the fields to work the long
dusty furrows that supplied his family with so much.
She had time, even if Paulette didn't.
The two young women, one mother...one daughter sat
side by side allowing the gentle sway of the old wooden porch swing to lull
them into a gentle acceptance of the day to come. Other than sharing precious moments with
Paulette, they had no plans, no responsibilities.
Their help with the chores had been diplomatically
accepted, but it was obvious to everyone concerned that their ineptitude was
overwhelming. Gone were the days when
Keri could milk a cow with the best of them, never spilling a drop. Now, the old, spotted Guernsey found her a
distraction, a break in the serenity of the routine.
The chickens, never a happy lot to begin with, pecked
and flew at her face whenever she approached their nests, knowing somehow that
their intimidation would work on this city slicker from L.A.. The crops, pristine and weedless, lay in
patient rows, waiting for the precious, life sustaining irrigation that only
her Father could provide until God chose to supply the rain they needed so very
badly.
And so Keri and Sarah found themselves facing the warm
embrace of dawn without an obligation in the world. Sarah would try and see if her grandmother
had the strength and inclination to begin her course in cinnamon rolls, but
other than that her slate was free. For
Keri the day held even less of a demand.
For her there were only stolen moments with an easily tired Paulette to
fill the dusty hours in New Hope, but they had to be measured against the
failing woman's dwindling strength, and the need of others to commune with her
in these last few days of her life. It
left a lot of time to fill.
Then, there along the sandy track came Jim Calendar,
an old bamboo fishing pole slung over his shoulder. He seemed almost incomplete without Jeremy,
his perpetual shadow attached, but miraculously he was alone. As he drew closer, he paused, then made a
detour toward the Corman porch.
"Morning, Ladies," he smiled, his boyish
grin filling the moment. "'Nothing
to do, or just doing nothing?', as the saying goes?"
Keri smiled. It
was an old one…a very old one. Jim must
be dusting off his farm-boy persona.
"A little of both," she smiled, propping her
Nike's on the railing. "Looks like
you're short a head, though. Where's
Jeremy this morning?"
"Lightening his death grip a little, I hope. This place is good for him…maybe just what he
needed. He has enough cousins here to
form a personal army, and they all want to keep him occupied. I thought I'd wander off by myself for a few
hours while he's busy."
"With that old bamboo pole? She snickered. "I thought a big-time attorney like you
would have some expensive fly-fishing rig to wet your flies with."
Quickly he offered the pole for her inspection. "Hey!
Ambience is everything! I want to
catch fish, not drown them in laughter.
I'm just getting back into the spirit of the thing! Besides…I have a guaranteed-to-catch'um-fly
here…a 'whirling bumble-cricket' or something.
My cousin made it himself…swears by it too."
Keri looked skeptically at the green-streaked fuzzy
doo-dad dangling on the end of the line.
"I thought you said you weren't trying to drown them in
laughter? That looks like a comedy
routine to me."
Jim laughed out loud.
"Oh ye of little faith!" he rejoined. "Hey, why don't the two of you come
along? You can provide the comic relief,
just in case this thing-a-ma-jig doesn't.
I could use the company." He murmured, his eyes wandering in Keri's
direction.
Silence.
Then, it was Sarah, not Keri who spoke. "Well, I have cinnamon rolls to make
today, so I can't. Maybe I'll make a few
for you too. I mean, you have to have
something to eat when that 'fuzzy bumble-thingy' comes up empty, right?"
Both pairs of eyes were now focussed on Keri, and it
made her feel incredibly uncomfortable.
Should she? What was Sarah
thinking…really?"
"Well, I don't know…" she replied
cautiously, scanning her daughter's eyes for a sign. "I can't say that thing looks very
promising. And besides, I don't have a pole. What do I use, my big toe?"
Jim leaned against the porch railing and studied her
Nike's. "I'd bite," he joked
softly. "But if I remember
correctly, your family keeps a load of fishing tackle out back in the
shed. Things can't have changed that
much, not here anyway. We could take a
look."
Once more Keri looked toward Sarah for a
reaction. Had she picked up on Jim's
tone? What was she thinking?
Then, as though she was waiting for just such a cue,
Sarah began to head for the door.
"Well…I'm outta here. Just
make sure you only drown that 'bumble whatzit', and not my Mom. I may need her again some day, okay?"
Grateful for her cooperation, Jim nodded. "You got it, Sarah. Not to worry.
I'll take good care of her.
You'll have her back in time for supper with as little wear as possible,
I promise."
Sarah paused, staring long and hard. Time to go, she thought as her feet refused
to move. Time to give her Mother some
space to make her own decisions. It was
time. And so, turning, she reached for
the old brass handle of the door and vanished into the cooler depths of the
homestead, leaving the uncertain pair to fend for themselves.
"To the shed, then?" he questioned
tentatively. "It can't hurt to
look."
Keri say silently on the porch swing, her lashes
lowered as though in defense of her thoughts, protection from disclosure, then
slowly nodded her head. She needed this
time alone with Jim, she decided…needed time to sort out her feelings, to
separate reality from fantasy before things went any further.
And so, dropping her feet onto the worn and weathered
planks of the porch, she turned and followed her lanky
guide around the corner of the house in the direction
of the shed. The pale contours of the
small building cast a long shadow along the ground as Jim gave a tug on the
well-oiled hinges and glanced into the ordered interior. "Ahhh…just as I thought," he
smiled. "See, nothing changes. Maybe a few more poles in here now, but all
in the same old place. Just like the old
days. Hard to tell, but one of these
might even be your old one."
Keri peered into the gloom of the shed, bending low to
inspect the cork handgrips on the mass of fishing poles that stood like
sentinels of the past in the corner. He
was right, she thought in surprise, there it was!
"I don't believe it, not after all this
time," she murmured. "But,
there it is. See. It has a piece of the handle broken off from
that time I fell on the rocks downstream.
I could never forget that.
Remember? I fell on my…"
She blushed.
Yes, she did remember, and so would he.
She'd landed on her face in the stream, flat out on a pile of river
rocks, knocking the wind out of her to a point where she'd found it hard to
catch her breath. In his panic, Jim had
unhooked her bra to allow her to breathe more easily, releasing her full
breasts in a most unladylike fashion. It
had been their first sexual encounter of sorts, their first true acceptance
that theirs was not a platonic relationship.
He'd carried her to shore that day, her wet clothing
clinging to her round, firm breasts, and she'd felt him tremble, his eyes
taking on a faraway gaze, his male hardness brushing against her hip as he'd
lowered her to the sandy shore. Once
more her breath had failed her, but this time for another reason.
Embarrassed, he'd tried to cover his physical response
and turn away from her, but she'd held him fast, her eyes wide and
curious. It was then, for the first time
that she'd known he wanted her as a woman, not merely as the pig-tailed girl
next door. For the first time she'd
recognized the heat that fills a man's eyes when his blood begins to boil. It had been there, at that moment…how could
she ever forget?
Uneasy, she grasped the pole from its resting-place
and backed out of the shed. That was
then, she reminded herself…and this is now.
The world had changed, revolved countless times since that day. They weren't hungry children anymore,
experimenting with fire. Things were
more serious now, and they had others to consider. Impulsiveness could lead to disaster.
As if he'd read her mind, he moved to the side and
gave her room to maneuver back out into the light of day. Her body language was clear. It wasn't time. Not now…maybe never. Physical space wasn't the only thing required
here, and he needed to respect that for
both her sake and his.
"I think there's even a fly left on here," she noted with
satisfaction. "Looks like I'm 'good
to go'. Hope whoever's been using it all
these years had more luck with it than I did."
He laughed then.
She was right. He'd never seen
her catch a single fish with her old, bamboo pole, but then she'd never seemed
to be trying either. The true object of
their excursions downstream had never actually been fish.
And so they crossed the fertile field behind the
house, heavy laden with squash and beans ready for the late summer harvest and
made their way once more through the pecan grove to the upper terrace above the
Virgin River. Then, carefully holding
their poles aloft, they wove their way among the knotted roots of the tamarisk
and willows until they reached the reed choked brush along the sandy shoreline.
The river was calm today, as it usually was at this
time of year. The water level was low,
waiting for the blessed advent of monsoon runoff, and a smattering of rocks
peered out of the knee-deep, greenish flow.
It would be a lazy afternoon, one meant more for idling the time away
beneath the cool boughs of a cottonwood…but then, that was always a possibility
as well, wasn't it?
Silently, the two rested briefly on a cluster of
rocks, removing their shoes and socks and knotting the laces carefully before
slinging them over their shoulders out of the way. Then, rolling up their cuffs, they waded into
the lukewarm caress of the current, making their way downstream toward the pool
which nature had carved so many eons ago along the bend in the river.
Keri stepped gingerly, her eyes trying hard to focus
beneath the surface as first one and then another squirmy little denizen of the
Virgin squished beneath her feet or brushed against her ankle. She hadn't always been this squeamish, she
thought. Where had the years gone?
Finally, after what seemed like an endless safari, the
low fissure formed by seasonably dry Hollow Wash came into view and the deep,
dark pool excavated by the confluence of the two tributaries made an
appearance. Not many people made their
way this far south, she knew. Most
preferred the upper reaches of the Virgin for their fishing forays, north along
the gulch above the flood plain. But,
they'd be alone here, and that was the real reason for this excursion, wasn't
it?
And so they'd picked their spot, a wide, sandy strip
free of low-hanging branches and devoid of the fly-gobbling reeds and brambles
that fly fishermen so abhor. They could
have used more room, more space for themselves, but that was of no
consequence. They'd work it out, it
would be the least of their compromises at this point.
"You go ahead," Keri said, her voice
sounding loud and unnatural in the softly singing silence. "I want to just watch for a while. Do you mind?"
Jim nodded, his eyes taking her measure as he turned
and began to pull the slack from his reel in preparation for his first
cast. Then, carefully bracing his feet
along the slippery embankment, he began the slow ballet of the fly fisherman,
his silken line flowing back and forth in the air…lengthening with each stroke
until finally coming to rest as light as a feather in the center of the
pool. He must have been practicing, she
thought, finding time in his tangle of legalese for the near Zen experience she
watched unfold before her. That was
good. The Jim she'd known and loved
would have done that too.
A ripple broke the gently flowing current. So soon, she wondered. Would she now get to watch him play the fish
toward the shore, into his net? Was it
that easy? But it was not to be, and as
the 'bumble whatzit' drifted along downstream she saw him reel in his line for
another cast.
This time she widened her gaze, taking in the slow,
fluid movement of his body as he caressed the still air with the motion of his
rod. It brought back memories… memories
of that time so long ago…so long ago when she felt him moving against her in
just such a way.
Cheeks reddening, she closed her eyes. It wouldn't do to expose herself so brazenly,
she thought. She hadn't yet decided
if…or when…and yet there he was, and her skin began to prickle with unbidden
thoughts that raced from the distant past.
Once more he drew in his line, and she watched the
glistening flecks of water coat his hands, dripping against the hard, flat
planes of his body. What would he be
like now, she wondered. Would he be
gentle, tentative as he'd been so long ago, or would he carry her along on a
thundering millrace of desire, tasting, touching, thrusting until she could no
longer contain her rising passion and cried out for release?
Her mind began to wander until a moist, tension began
to fill her belly, creeping sensuously between her thighs, and she realized
that she had to stop. This just wouldn't
do…not at all.
It was then she felt his shadow fall over her body and
looked up to find him beside her.
"You're not fishing," he offered unnecessarily, the statement
almost redundant under the situation.
"Mind if I sit next to you then?" he asked.
"Of course not," she croaked, her voice
rasping guiltily in the stillness.
"Help yourself. It's a free
riverbank."
What a dumb thing to say! He must think her a complete moron by
now! And yet, he didn't seem to notice
as he settled his lanky bulk beside her on the narrow rock ledge, his hip
brushing hers, his bare foot so close…so close.
"You were somewhere else." He stated
matter-of-factly. "Not here at
all. Mind if I ask what you were
thinking?"
This time she couldn't keep the slow flush that crept
upward from beneath her collar at bay.
Had he been watching her? Could
he tell what was on her mind then…and now?
"Yes, I do, Counselor," she replied. "My thoughts are my own. I like to keep them private."
And then, as if to soften the rebuff, she turned and
the corners of her lips curled into a slow smile. There would be no true confessions today, no
avowals of love or lust, but the possibility was there…oh yes…most definitely
there.
Then, leaning back on his elbows he began to steer the
conversation toward safer lines, more compassionate tones. "How is your mother doing?" he
asked, his concern evident. "It
sounded as though Sarah has really taken to her."
Keri nodded.
"She has. It's something new
though. Up until last night I didn't
think she'd get to know her grandmother at all.
She didn't seem to show any inclination, and after losing her farther so
recently I didn't want to push the issue.
Now, suddenly, they're planning to make cinnamon rolls. Go figure."
He nodded as though he'd heard not only the words
she'd said, but the undercurrent that had remained unspoken as well. "And what about you, Keri? How are you dealing with Shawn's death? Are you finding ways to deal with it…to move
on?"
Keri was silent as she rolled his question around in
her mind. Was she dealing with it? Was it time to move on, or would the memory
of Shawn Martin forever be an unapproachable standard against which she
measured all men…and found them wanting?
She should have ignored the question…resented it. It wasn't his business to ask, to pry into
her life. He had no right, and yet, to
her own amazement, she didn't seem to mind.
She searched her heart for the spark of resentment that would allow her
to repel this uninvited intruder, but found none. It was too late.
"I'm not sure," she whispered
truthfully. "What he meant to
me…how he filled my life…how can I ever hope to find that again? We had something special…Shawn and I. We had the kind of relationship that most
people only dream of, and when he was gone I was sure that was the end of
everything."
They grew silent once again, each measuring their
words, aware that once spoken they could never be recalled.
"And now?" he whispered. "How do you feel now?"
He looked so
strong, she thought, so assured for someone who had gone through so much. And yet, here he was, divorced, and the
father of a traumatized eight year-old child.
Suddenly, to her, he still looked like the young man she'd loved so long
ago. It wasn't possible. Time had skipped a beat, left him untouched
in its perpetual erosion of life and dreams.
The sun peeked through the trees then, and fell full
in her eyes. She made a face, squinting
against the rays and lay back beside him in the cool shadow of the tree
above. Her heart lurched, a warmth
spreading in slow circles, radiating along her body until she felt that
familiar stirring between her thighs once more.
She was too old for this, she thought immediately…too
old for this lack of control, and yet with him, she too seemed to have slipped
the bonds of time and was once more the young girl who had welcomed him so
urgently into her waiting depths so long ago.
Once more she was his Kerilynn, her auburn hair splayed in careless
disarray atop the shifting hay, her young, untried body calling to him in the
pale moonlight.
She knew then that she wanted him, that she'd always
wanted him, even before they'd met. Her
need for him had existed since the beginning of time, the beginning of
life. They were meant to be. She couldn't let him go… not again.
In desperation she searched his eyes, praying for a
sign that this was right, but the shifting patterns of sun and shade left them
hidden and impenetrable. Her pulse
raced, and as though he sensed her need he raised his hand toward her face, his
thumb tracing the easy curve of her cheek and coming to rest upon the full
bloom of her lower lip.
The tight warmth continued to consume her, but she
didn't pull away. She hadn't said
"Yes", but she hadn't said "No".
He drew closer.
Like a primeval drumbeat, an ancient rhythm began to
throb in her veins…she felt his warm breath on her cheek…closer until his lips
brushed against hers, and his tongue began to trace the silky smoothness of her
lips.
Old memories came flooding back…old sensations that
she thought had been lost forever.
Slowly, she closed her eyes, her senses whirling, her very skin electric
with the promise of his touch…but still she made no attempt to move. Then, with a tiny sweet-scented sigh her lips
parted and he slipped into her moist, warm depths.
He kissed her gently at first, tentatively exploring
the velvet depths of her, stroking her in a parody of an age-old act. Then, as his passion rose, he became bolder
and his thrusts became more urgent…more demanding, searching now for hidden
passions and secret desires… seeking to kindle the flame within her.
She moaned, a soft whimper as his tongue filled her
and began to share the heat that was slowly building between them. A touch…just a touch, she thought as his hand
began to stroke the contours of her cotton-clothed body and the trembling
peach-tones that she knew lay beneath.
He'll stop, she thought…not let it go too far unless
she asked…until she was sure. This was far too important to rush. What if she was wrong? What if she wanted too much too soon and
found that it had all been a horrible mistake?
What if she asked for the moon and stars and ended up with nothing? She had to wait until she was ready, until
she wanted him as much as…
But still his hand continued its slow exploration, as
though driven by some elusive outside force, and soon the buttons of her blouse
fell away and she felt the front hook of her bra vanish beneath his
fingertips. Then it too was gone, replaced
by the full, pale curve of her breast.
She gasped, the touch of his manhood full and
throbbing against the length of her thigh.
Where was the restraint she'd cultivated for so long? Where had it gone?
He groaned, sending muted vibrations across her skin
as his lips began the tortuous journey downward from her mouth, along the
frantically pulsating line of her throat to the hardened peak of her
breast. Licking, he drew back and
watched with satisfaction as he saw the crinkled surface harden even further
into a distended symbol of desire. Then,
with unbridled deliberation he engulfed her, drawing her nipple deeply into his
mouth, attuned to the quickening of her breath as he stirred her sighs in the
stillness of the tamarisk forest.
It was right…it was now…she was his once more.
He pressed his body against her then, and as he
continued to suckle, his hand released her belt buckle and slowly lowered the
zipper of her jeans. The warm heat of
her rose up to meet his fingers…an invitation to continue, to probe…to caress,
and soon she felt his gentle touch exploring the intimate recesses of her body
in a way that shook her to her very being.
A warm pool began to form between her trembling
thighs. She felt like a woman again for
the first time in two years, desirable, seductive, sexually alive in a way that
she'd never hoped to feel again. Not
since Shawn…
Shawn?
Why was she thinking of Shawn at a time like
this? Was it Jim Calendar she wanted at
this moment, or was it just her oh-so-human need to feel wanted again…to feel
desirable to a man once more? Was she
merely using her former lover? Was she
capable of that?
"Keri?"
She opened her eyes and met Jim's questioning
gaze. Had he said something?
"Keri, you were so far away. Should I stop? Tell me Keri...tell me. What do you want?" he whispered huskily.
She sat upright then, her fingers fumbling with her
zipper, her hands organizing her clothing once more. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and
he backed away in confusion.
"I-I'm sorry, Keri. I'm such an ass! I didn't think…I just assumed that you wanted
the same thing I… Oh hell!" he
cursed. "I really made a mess of
things, didn't I? I'm so sorry! I swear, it won't happen again. You have my word. If we ever…well, you know, it'll be because
you tell me so in words that even my thick head can understand."
Then, rising he turned from her and began to gather up
his fishing equipment. "Maybe we
should start heading back now," he murmured shakily. "I should check on Jeremy soon."
Keri closed her eyes briefly, wiping furiously at her
dampened lashes. She'd let him take the
blame for their aborted tryst…let him think he'd read her invitation wrong,
when it had been truly all her fault.
But, she couldn't take the chance that she was only using him, could
she? She needed to know for sure that it
was indeed Jim Calendar that she wanted not merely a warm, male body that
allowed her to feel like a woman once again.
Didn't she owe him that much?
Trembling, she finished up with her buttons and began
to gather her share of the equipment. He
was right. It was time to head back
before they did any more damage.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 12
The trip back to town had been awkward…
uncomfortable. Keri and Jim had picked
their way along the streambed in silence, avoiding eye contact and cringing at
the occasional brush of an elbow or sleeve that dared to breach the space
between them. It was almost a relief
when he'd croaked a muted good-bye at the Corman homestead and rambled on along
the dusty road toward his parents' farm.
It was early afternoon by then, and the clan had long
since had their lunch and headed out for parts unknown. It was silent in the large, warm kitchen when
she arrived. The counters had been
scrubbed to a worn glow, and the barren stovetop sat empty, resting on its
laurels for an hour or so until it was time to prepare the evening meal.
Today there would be extra meals to prepare, she
remembered, for tomorrow was Sunday…a day of rest in New Hope. Chores were minimal on that day. Breakfast would consist of something simple,
biscuits and gravy perhaps, and then on to church for services and religious
instruction.
In the afternoon, weather permitting, the whole town
would meet by the river to share the joy of fellowship with each
other…something almost unheard of in the modern-day world. There would be horseshoes, baseball, and
children laughing and splashing in the tepid stream. The women would gather to compare notes on
child rearing and various homefront issues, while the menfolk swapped lies and
swatted flies. They'd bring baskets of
food, prepared on Saturday and chilled for the occasion, and commune with each
other as they feasted and warmed in the joys of a close-knit community set far
from the maddening world.
When evening came, the singing would begin. There, along the river, the townspeople of
New Hope would raise their voices to a bountiful God in praise, filling the
darkening sky with gratitude and devotion before heading back up the hill to their
own homes once more. It was like
something out of a Rockwell painting…a piece of Americana that had fallen by
the wayside, but here in New Hope it was alive and thriving. It was something she'd missed.
Of all her memories in New Hope, those were the
best. How often had she mourned the loss
of those times, the pure joy of embracing the world around her…safe and secure
in the union of kindred souls? The world
had moved on. Things like that rarely
existed anymore, she realized. She was
lucky if she could name more than a dozen people in her neighborhood now. Progress had its price, and sometimes it was
too much.
But then, even New Hope had a price…didn't it? She thought again of her arranged engagement
to the elder Calendar and frowned. Some
people here were expected to pay more than others, she reflected. She thought then of Sarah, and what her
daughter's life would have been like in the little village on the Virgin. No choices.
No future. An arranged marriage
to someone not of her own choosing, probably many years her senior. How much was freedom worth, she wondered, and
then she thought of her life with Shawn and knew.
Everything.
Keri sniffed.
The smell of baking lay heavy in the air. Cinnamon rolls. Pumpkin Pie.
Fresh bread. The wives of Isaac
Corman had been busy while she was away.
It was then she realized just how hungry her sojourn down the river had
made her, and she crossed the hardwood floor toward the large avocado-colored
refrigerator in the center of the east wall.
Inside she found a large, covered bowl of fried chicken, probably set
aside for Sunday's picnic, and decided to liberate a small piece. She'd pass on her share tomorrow, she
promised herself, but right now she was ravenous.
Choosing a crispy drumstick, Keri made short work of
her ill-gotten snack then turned her attention toward the door of her mother's
room. Would her mother be alone, she
wondered? Was Sarah with her now?
Once more she crossed the floor, dropping the denuded
bone of her repast in the trash as she passed, then tapping gently on the door.
"Come in", Paulette's voice responded, pale
and faint in the dusty stillness.
"You don't have to knock.
You know that. In fact, I was
just going to leave the door open to let the world in a little more."
Keri made her way into the shadowed room, but closed
the door behind her. She wanted this
time alone with her mother. There seemed
to be little enough of it, and she jealously clung to the shaky remnants that
she felt were hers alone.
"Why did you have the door closed in the first
place if you wanted company?" Keri asked, puzzled. "Most people would think you were asleep
and not want to disturb you with the door closed, Mother."
Paulette just nodded and closed her eyes as if to
focus her energy of the question at hand.
"When the door is open, everyone feels as though they have to be
with me…to entertain me, and no one can get anything done. It disrupts the household, and I don't want
that." Then she paused. "They think I'm dying, you know."
Keri's throat closed.
Words escaped her. Why shouldn't
they think she was dying? Her doctors,
her faltering essence confirmed it.
Paulette Corman would not be a part of the corporal world much longer.
"Mother…" she began, searching for the right
words, and finding none.
"Shhhhh, Keri I know. I'm not that much of a fool, you know."
Paulette responded gently. "But you
know, it amazes me that so many people can give lip service, even here, to the
thought of a higher plain, and then abandon the fact of it when it really
counts. Do you think you're nothing but
flesh and blood, Keri…do you think I am?"
Keri sat staring at the counterpane, lost in a choked
silence as her mother continued.
"My sweet, sweet Keri…life is so much more than that. The things we say the things we do…the people
we love…it all stays behind when this fragile shell gives way. Nothing is ever lost in nature, Keri, it just
takes on a new form and continues on forever…and so will I. I'll be there when Rosetta organizes the
shopping lists…when Sarah makes cinnamon rolls…when you find a love to carry
you through the rest of your life.
Nothing is ever lost, my sweet, lovely daughter…nothing."
Silently, Keri sat until her Mother's warm hand
covered her own. "Don't look so
sad, Keri. I'd be a liar if I said I
didn't want to hang on to this body of mine forever, but I've made my
peace. I'm ready, and I want you to be
as well. You know, I've always admired
the Irish in that way. When someone
'passes on' they don't mourn their loss as much as they celebrate their time
here on earth...for having known them.
It's the way I want to be remembered, Keri. You'll do that for me, won't you?"
With an iron will, Keri held back the tears, swallowed
the sobs that threatened to steal her voice from her. "I'll do my best, Mother," she
croaked. "I promise, I'll really
try."
Paulette nodded, then with her own innate wisdom she
changed the subject. "So, how was
your fishing trip with Jim this morning?" she asked, a twinkle in her
eye. "Are we having chub for
supper?"
Keri blushed.
Her mother knew! Was she that
transparent? Uneasily, she studied her
fingernails. How much had her mother
guessed?
"No, Mother, no fish tonight. It's too warm, I think. The fish didn't seem to be biting." She
evaded.
Paulette nodded.
"And Jim…did he…bite?"
"Mother!" Keri exclaimed, startled at her
mother's bluntness. "What a thing
to ask?"
"Well," Paulette continued, "You didn't
think anyone ever thought you two went down-river to fish, did you?" She laughed, the sound like a chorus of bells
filling the room. "He's loved you
for a long time, Keri. You know that,
don't you?"
Keri nodded, speechless once again, and then cleared
her throat. "I do, Mother. I know that, but…"
"But you're not sure of yourself?" Paulette
finished. "Is that it? Are you having doubts?"
Keri's eyes widened.
She'd forgotten how astute her mother could be…how all seeing. How often had she resented her mother's
advice during her formative years, and yet now…
"Yes," she replied. "I don't know what to feel. I thought that part of my life was over,
Mother. That when Shawn died he took it
with him…but now…"
"Did you love him, Keri?" her Mother
interrupted. "Did you love
Shawn?"
Once more Keri struggled with the words, and found herself
merely nodding.
"Then he'll always be a part of you,
Sweetheart. Always. But, you'll love someone again someday. It's how things work. You'll never forget Shawn, and you'll never
love anyone in exactly the same way…sort of like a tiny memorial in your soul,
but you'll go on to love someone else eventually. People who have the capacity to love once
never lose that gift. It's a part of
them. It's a part of you."
The words washed over Keri like a warm breath of
spring, sweeping away the cold chill of winter, uncovering the new growth that
would soon burst into bloom. Yes, she
did love Jim. She knew it now. Shawn wasn't gone, he never would be, but
he'd want her to love again. He'd
understand. Shawn had taken the pure,
fleetingly idealistic love of a girl, and transformed it into the enduringly
passionate love of a woman. He wouldn't
want it to end so soon. He'd want her to
take his gift and make a new life filled with the love he'd taught her to
cherish so dearly. It was so like him.
Keri looked up at her Mother, but found Paulette's
eyes closed, her breathing heavy and rhythmic.
She was asleep now. Her limited
cache of strength had dwindled, and fatigue had overcome her. And so Keri slowly eased herself off of the
bed and tiptoed toward the door. When
had her mother become this fount of wisdom, she wondered. Had it always been that way? Was it she herself that had been too obtuse
to notice?
The smell of ham, simmering with carrots and potatoes
in a large Dutch oven on the back of the stove assailed her nostrils as she
entered the kitchen. Time always seemed
to stand still in Paulette's room, she mused.
It was already time to help with supper.
Pumpkin pie and huge loaves of fresh bread sat on the sideboard waiting
to be taken into the dining room, and Rosetta was just filling clear glass
pitchers with fresh milk. Pale crocks of
fresh butter and others with rhubarb preserves and orange marmalade had just
joined the collection when Sarah appeared from the dining area to carry them to
the room beyond.
Rosetta stabbed the ham with two huge serving forks
and plunked it gingerly on a platter.
"Want to carve?" she asked, laying a huge, serrated knife on
the countertop. "If you can handle
that, I'll make the gravy." Then,
with an efficiency of motion, she scooped up the vegetables with a slotted
spoon and filled a huge bowl with the steaming repast. Finally, taking a measure of flour and a huge
dollop of butter she proceeded to prepare a roux from which to begin her savory
gravy.
Keri paused, amazed, to watch. It was just like watching her mother, the
same way she'd always prepared meals in her youth, the same recipe, the same
efficiency that had so been the elder woman's hallmark. Paulette was right. She was here…in this kitchen…in this house…in
their lives. She always would be. Nothing in nature is ever lost.
Thoughtfully, she carved the huge ham into thin
slices, and by the time she was finished, Rosetta had the gravy ready and
waiting in a thick crockery bowl, ready to deliver to the hungry mouths that
awaited them in the dining room.
She felt lighter now, happier. For the first time in two years she too felt
at peace with the world. Shawn would
always be a part of her, but now Jim was here, and suddenly the emptiness she'd
carried for so long seemed to fade into a dim memory. There was hope once again, and a warm future
on the horizon. She had come full
circle, and found herself in the arms of her first and last love. Life was good, and if today hadn't scared Jim
away forever, maybe tomorrow would be even better.
Finally, the two women settled themselves down among
the multifaceted Corman clan to enjoy their dinner as well. Keri wasn't surprised to find her father
absent once again. It had become a
pattern in fact. Not once during her
stay had Isaac Corman been present for dinner, always busy or preferring to
share his evening meal alone with his faltering wife.
Hungrily she dove into her dinner, savoring the fresh,
vibrant flavors as they bathed her heightened emotional state with sensory
delight.
Tomorrow…tomorrow…and all of the tomorrows to follow,
she thought, rolling the mantra around in her mind. A door had closed, and another was
opening. Where once the void held rein,
now there was hope and the promise of love.
Dinner was soon over, with each of the family adding a
little to the day's rendition of events.
In no time at all, the chores had been put to rest and weary footsteps
echoed through the hallways, sounds of a household settling in for the night.
Keri and Sarah retired to their small room overlooking
the dusty roadway of New Hope, each consumed by the changes that whirled around
them, and each with the special glow of someone who's added a dimension to her
life.
Keri lay in the pale glimmer of the moon, remembering
Jim's lips caressing her turgid flesh, his hands, both eager and yet gentle,
forming a bridge between them… a moist, trembling connection between a man and
a woman.
She'd see him again tomorrow, she knew, and, if fate
was on their side this time, for a lifetime of tomorrows after that.
And so she closed her eyes, her mind awhirl with
possibilities, and let herself drift into the arms of the velvet night.
Tomorrow…tomorrow…
------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 13
The cool, crisp shadow of the church steeple fell in
stark contrast to the tawny landscape below as the peal of a single bell filled
the air.
Sabbath, a day of rest. No fields to hoe this day…no harvesting
done. Today was the time that God had
set aside for worship, and the devout people of New Hope took it seriously.
One by one, the townsfolk paraded from their
respective homesteads, dressed in their plain but crisp Sunday best, and
entered the tiny church in the very center of town.
It was the Garrison family who greeted the worshippers
today, and it was they who had set out the worn hymnals and would return to set
the church to rights tomorrow morning.
Keri remembered well the times it had been the Corman's turn at this
responsibility, the many hours she'd spent polishing the aging pews with her
mother's special concoction of olive oil and white vinegar until they shone in
the dim light of the stained glass windows.
She recalled the hours spent sweeping the perpetual dust of the desert from
the aisles. It had been worth it. The heart of New Hope had been preserved as
though the years had never existed…had never gone the way of time and man. It was as warm and consoling now as it had
been on the first day she could remember it, and she had no doubt that as long
as the faithful lived in new Hope, it always would.
Slowly the pews filled with young and old, those at
the beginning of their journey, and those at the end. Even her mother was present, defying anyone
to keep her from the spot she'd filled in the second row for oh-so-many
years. It might be the last time she
filled it, Keri reflected, but nothing could keep her away. Not now.
For Sarah and Jeremy it was a new experience. They were used to something different, more
worldly. They had been raised with the
affectations of the outside world, and this simple, humble place of worship
seemed to puzzle them. No silver
candlesticks here…no velvet finery. The
massive organs that used to herald in the choir on Sunday mornings back home
were replaced here with a single, aging upright piano, draped with homemade
needlepoint, the sermon delivered by none other than Jacob Calendar himself.
The theme today, would be that of the prodigal child,
no surprise to either Keri or Jim. It
was hard, in fact, to suppress the inevitable smile that it evoked in each of
them. It had been almost a
certainty. In New Hope, nothing
changed.
The choir, comprised of the many cherub-cheeked
children of the village, was pure and clear in their devotion to the task. Through their voices, New Hope's faith in God
and steadfast spirit echoed among the rafters of the tiny church and brought
home the values so cherished by the community.
The proud, beaming faces of parents scanned their angelic faces until
the last hymn was sung, and their little ones took their seats beside them once
again.
Then, as was the custom, the children were herded
outside beneath the trees where Sunday school would begin while the adults
listened undisturbed to the sermon.
Jacob Calendar hadn't lost his touch, Keri thought as
his charismatic tones washed over her.
If she hadn't known better, she would almost have thought herself
welcome once again by this great stone face of a man, but she knew that the
tale of the man who was so joyously overcome by the return of his wayward son
was not for her. Jacob's words were
meant for Jim's ears alone. They would
never be for her.
After the sermon, the children returned once more and
a final hymn was sung. Then, amid a
flurry of hugs and handshakes, smiles and well wishes, the people of New Hope
filed home once again to gather their picnic hampers and sundries for a day of
communion with their neighbors.
Within the hour, abbreviated streams of people began
to make their way along the twisting and meandering pathways that honeycombed
the banks along the river. There, the
menfolk began to assemble buffet tables made of saw horses and large panels of
plywood, while their wives and daughters gathered gaily colored table cloths to
brighten the affair. The children waited
eagerly, mouths watering as pies and cakes, cold ham and fried chicken were
loaded onto the waiting tables. Sunday
was indeed something to look forward to in New Hope, a ritual as old as the
village itself, and as new as each passing week.
When all was prepared, each household spread a picnic
blanket along the shore, and waited patiently while Brother Calendar intoned
his gratitude for God's bounty and another week of harmony in this small
village along the river. Then it was
time to eat.
The elderly and infirmed went first, usually assisted
by someone in their family. Paulette,
resting heavily upon a blanket near the bank, let the younger Cormans fill her
plate, and found to her amusement an assortment of children's delights piled
high for her perusal. Pecan, apple and
pumpkin pie, cinnamon rolls, sugar cookies and chocolate cake were the entrees,
it seemed…and it made her smile. She
could tell exactly which child had contributed each sweet morsel, and to whom
her "leftovers" should go.
The adults came next, forming a line and piling their
plates with savory ham and potato salad, deviled eggs and buttermilk
biscuits. Only then did the children
take their turn, making short work of the dessert table and returning only under
protest as their parents insisted on more conventional food before they could
indulge their true natures. It was the
same today as it had been last Sunday, and the Sunday before that…and would be
for all of the sleepy Sundays to come.
Finally, when nothing remained but bones and empty
platters, people began to separate into small communities of their own. The women gathered under the willows,
swapping recipes and sharing whatever pressing news had filled their homes that
week. Children collected along the
shore, splashing and giggling as they cast off their Sunday best and donned
their play clothes behind a convenient bush or rock. Some gathered to hear the latest exploit of
Tom Sawyer, an ongoing Sunday serial offered by the current school mistress,
while some of the older teens seemed to vanish altogether.
The menfolk organized themselves around the aging
horseshoe pit, or on the makeshift baseball diamond that had suddenly sprung
full blown into existence on a sandy patch near the water's edge. But, in all of this, Keri felt alone. She was no longer a child, and not an
accepted woman of the community. For her
there was no peer group to embrace, and so she shared the afternoon where she
most wanted to be, by Paulette's side.
One by one, it seemed as though every person in New
Hope made his or her way over to Paulette's resting place to pass the time of
day. Not one, however, dwelled on her
failing health, or upon the deepening shadows that rimmed her eyes. Instead they chose to bring a little of their
own blessed sunshine into her world, to share her gentle company for as long as
their Creator allowed. Each moment was a
blessing to be savored and cherished, its passing would come soon enough… but
today was a celebration of life.
Conspicuous in his absence was Jim Calendar. Of all the people gathered there, he alone
had not approached their shaded location, and the omission left her worried and
distraught. Had yesterday been their
last chance, her last chance after all?
Was it too late for them even now?
Cursing her own insecurities, she let her gaze roam
about the gathering, searching for some sign of the face she so desperately
wanted to see. Was that him, behind the
tamarisk tree, talking to Olive Levin? A
twinge of jealousy passed through her, something distasteful…not rightfully
hers.
No, it wasn't him.
She let her perusal wander down toward the baseball diamond. Would he be there, shirtsleeves rolled to the
elbow, a thin veneer of sweat along his upper lip?
No, not there either.
Where could he be?
Then she saw him, leaning against the overhang of a
willow on the far side of the clearing, and he was…looking straight at her.
Keri felt her skin prickle, and quickly looked
away. But almost immediately her eyes
were once again drawn to the striking young man who continued to focus his
attention on her alone. His smoky gaze
told it all, told her all she needed to know.
It wasn't too late…not for them.
She felt the stir of heat deep inside once more, and
tingled at the press of her full and trembling nipples as they brushed against
the cotton of her dress. Could he
tell? Did he know? Guiltily, she lowered her gaze, and when she
raised her eyes in his direction a few moments later, he was gone. A sigh, slow and tentative hissed softly
between her lips, and her mother smiled.
"He won't wait forever, Keri. Nothing does," she whispered, as though
the whole world might be listening.
"Thinking about what you want…knowing what you want is a good
thing. But, don't wait too long. It can all slip away from you so
quickly…"
Then, as though a cue card had suddenly called him
into the play once again, Jim popped up from her left, settled on the blanket
beside Paulette and began to speak.
"That was your cinnamon roll recipe, wasn't
it?" he asked, grinning. "I
could tell. It's one of the things I
could never forget about this place."
Paulette returned his smile. "It was," she acknowledged. But it's Sarah's now. I gave it to her. As a matter of fact, she's the one who made
that batch."
Jim laughed, and reaching into his pocket produced a
crumpled napkin with a disfigured lump curled in the center. "I stole one for later, " he
confessed, his features taking on a childish delight at the feigned rebuke he
saw cross her lips. "You don't mind,
do you? I'm a starving boy. I need my sustenance."
"Well then, I'll have to be sure I keep you
supplied, won't I?" Paulette rejoined, warming to the banter. "Better keep Sarah on your list of best
friends."
It was meant to bring a smile, a rejoinder in the
pleasant tone of this bright and shining afternoon, but instead it served to
offer just the opposite, a reminder of her tentative hold on life. It was as though a sudden cloud had crossed
his features, as though the light façade they'd tried so hard to maintain for
each other had just fallen in ruin.
Desperately he tried to regain his momentum, to sweep the import of her
words to a place where it could no longer touch them, but it was too late, so
he chose sincerity instead.
"It won't be the same, Paulette," he
said. "You've shared so much of
yourself with so many people, but it won't be the same." And with that he rose and slowly made his way
along the path toward the river, gathering driftwood along the bank for the
evening bonfire as he went.
Keri was stunned, speechless. It had been what she'd wanted to say ever
since she'd returned to New Hope, what they'd all wanted to say…but hadn't been
able to. And now, Jim had said it…simply
and from the heart, and the world hadn't come crashing down around their
heads…the sun still shone brightly in the sky.
It wouldn't be the same after Paulette had left them, but still they'd
carry on. They'd still rise in the morning,
milk the cows and make cinnamon rolls.
They'd hold each other close and fill each other with love and faith…and
in some inextricable way it would be because of the love and faith, the
resiliency she'd instilled in each of them.
Because of her, they'd be able to carry on, even after she was gone.
Keri lay back against the blanket then and let the
warm, red glow of the afternoon sun warm her eyelids. This was a day to savor…one to remember in
her growing scrapbook of memories. Her
life was changing in so many ways, and would never pass this way again.
Thoughts of the "good times", the days
before her hasty departure from New Hope swirled through her mind, closing the
gap between her and Paulette as she reached out and to enfold her mother's hand
in her own. It was only then that she
realized how dry and gaunt her mother's touch had become, how fragile, she
thought… and then something changed. In
an instant, her mother returned her gentle contact, but now her hand was strong
and consoling, as vibrant in the end of life as it had been so very long
ago. Just a touch, and yet it said so
much. In that simple press of flesh came
the message, "I'm alright, Keri…I've had my life… made my peace, and now
it's your turn."
If there were tears in Keri's eyes , they were hidden
behind her tightly pressed lids, behind the religiously controlled façade that
we of the living world maintain so that we can carry on our days invulnerable
to the abrasions of life, but Paulette could see them anyway. Slowly, she coaxed her daughter's head onto
her lap and stroked her auburn waves, so unruly, over the gingham of her
dress. She was a girl again, a young
wisp of a thing to whom her mother meant everything.
Yes, it was a moment to remember, and Keri filed it
gratefully away in her heart for the tortuous days yet to come. If Paulette had taught her how to live, she
was now giving her a lesson in how to release her grip on the tangible world
and move on to the next plain with grace and assurance.
Paulette was a miracle. It wouldn't be the same…
The afternoon passed into evening, and the windless
hush along the river sang its final vespers to the day. The sun began to sink in a blaze of glory in
the western sky, and a single star crept into the growing blanket of indigo
above. Someone lit the bonfire, and soon
a warm glow drew them together in its welcoming embrace.
Keri looked around for Jim, searching the pale
monotones gathered around the blaze for the sight of his smile. Had he left, she wondered? It wasn't possible. There was so much she wanted to say, so many
things to share…
And then she spotted him, sitting alone on a small
rock ledge along the shore, his eyes peering past the dim glow of the campfire
to caress her in the stillness of the night.
This time she didn't look away, didn't hide her gaze
in demure affectations, but returned it full measure. It was time, she thought…it was time.
They held each other's gaze across the crackling
flames for what seemed like hours …silent promises slowly spiraling in the
dancing blaze like tiny emissaries sent before them to pave their way into the
afterworld. How could so much be said
with such a absence of words, she wondered, amazed. Why had it taken her so long to learn this
perfect language of the heart?
Finally, the lonesome notes of a singer carrying the
familiar rounds of "Jacob's Ladder" began to weave their magic
through the stillness. He was quickly
joined by a second, and then a third.
Soon the air was filled with the gentle voices of the Calendarites, all
praising the name of God in song.
The darkness deepened as "Amazing Grace",
and "Shall We Gather at the River" floated through the trees. Finally, to the strains of "The Old
Rugged Cross", the townsfolk made their way once more up the hill towards
home and preparation for the early day yet to come. A few young men remained behind to extinguish
the fire, but not Jim and Keri. The
growing blaze between them had just begun, and it would take more than a pail
of tepid water to extinguish the heat that it radiated.
Slowly Keri made her way along the winding trail,
shining her flashlight ahead of her, carefully picking her way between the
rocks and roots that threatened to complicate her passage. She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him, but
far behind she knew he was there.
Somehow, some ancient, inborn sensitivity told her he was following,
whispering to her in words that only she could hear, touching her in places
that only he could touch.
Finally, she broke free of the upper terrace and took
a bearing on the Corman homestead, glowing like something unearthly in the
distant moonlight. She paused. The muted pull of his essence was stronger
now, reaching deeper, insinuating itself into the quivering depths of her
belly. Was he there? Was he still following?
He was.
Her knees grew rubbery, uncertain, her breath coming
in uneven pants as she neared the homestead.
She could hear him now, the slow beating of his heart pounding in her
ears, his words, almost two decades old, filling her mind.
Finally, she reached the wraithlike buildings and
groped for support. Wood, old and
weathered greeted her touch, rasped beneath her fingertips. A door…the door to the barn filled her palm,
and she realized where she was. Had they
come full circle, she wondered? Would
she find him here once again, among the lowing memories of so long ago? Did she want to?
And then she knew.
Yes. She wanted him here with
her, to be his once more…to feel his touch in the pale strands of moonlight
that flooded the loft.
Yes, she wanted him more now than she had the first
time when youth and inexperience had dimmed her mind with uncertainty, when
fear of the unknown had clouded the moment…but it was more than that. She wanted his nearness as well, the warm
security of his arms around her, the promise that she knew lay deep behind his
gaze.
She could feel the heat of him now, so close behind
her, the warm caress of his breath against the back of her neck…and she turned
to face him. There, in the airless,
breathless hush of the moment she searched for the words to tell him what she
was feeling, what she wanted…but found it unnecessary.
He already knew.
Slowly his right hand closed over hers, his left arm
circling her waist, drawing her closer, urging her against the warm peaks and
hollows of his body.
"Are you sure, Keri?" he whispered
hoarsely. "Oh, God…are you
sure?"
Keri curled her arms around his neck, a wordless
response filling the dwindling spaces between them as she pressed against his
growing hardness. Then, parting her lips
she opened herself to him, an invitation, a consuming acceptance of all that he
was, of all that they would be together.
Softly they probed in the darkness for the ladder to
the loft, relying on memories of long ago to guide them until finally it was
beneath their feet, carrying them upward toward their bed among the rafters.
It seemed as though it had been waiting for them, she
thought…all these years…the soft seduction of moonlight filling the pale,
shifting surface of their lonesome aerie.
Quickly, as though the dream might flee before him, he
began to strip away his jacket and shirt, spreading them to make a nest for her
body upon the hay. Then, turning toward
her, his eyes dark with need, he scooped her up in his arms and lay her down
beside him on the crisp, sweet smelling palate.
Keri gasped at the chiseled breadth of him, the solid
maturity that had been only a dim promise on that fateful night so long
ago. Slowly she ran her fingers over the
muscled definition of his back, and felt him shiver beneath her touch.
"Oh, Keri," he whispered. "Don't let this be a dream. I've wanted this for so long…wanted you in my
arms. Let me love you, Keri…let me love
you."
"Oh…yes, Jim, yes," she rasped, her voice
husky and muted. "Love me…love me…"
Fumbling, his fingers attempted to open the buttons of
her blouse until finally, in desperation she stilled his attempts and freed
them herself. Then slowly, his arms
circled her body, her breasts straining for release as miraculously he parted
the hooks of her bra and peeled away her clothing until nothing but the faint,
lacy wisp of her panties remained.
He stood up then, his body gleaming in the pale,
silvery night, and removed the last of his clothing. Keri felt the heat rush to her face, then
race full-blown through her body to the yearning core of her womanhood. He was magnificent! No longer a boy, Jim now had the firm, smooth
body and muscled torso of a man in the prime of his life, the narrow hips and
hint of rounded buttocks...the heavy thrust of his manhood as it jut rock-hard
into the warm, quivering air.
Tenderly, as though it took his last ounce of
self-control, he knelt beside her, his knee maddeningly pressed between her
thighs as he lowered himself upon their makeshift bed. He kissed her then, softly parting her lips,
his tongue probing the warm depths of her mouth as his hands began to explore
her trembling flesh.
Tentatively, his fingers found their way beneath the
thin barrier of her panties…and she inhaled sharply. A warm, moist rush of heat filled the
hungering depths between her legs and she flushed once again. He smiled at her response, his lips trailing
downward to suckle the frantically beating pulse at the base of her throat…the
hardened peak of her breast until her very flesh prickled with the moist, hot feel
of his touch.
Then, shifting ever so slightly, she felt his fingers
slide beneath the elastic waistband of her panties once more, slipping them
downward over her thighs, down to her trembling ankles and off. There he paused, his eyes hungrily learning
the secrets of her body before once again pressing his flesh against hers.
Keri moaned, squirming against him, urging him to
completion, but he stayed his course, refusing to hurry that which he'd waited
so long to recapture. Instead, his lips
began to follow a different pathway now, a tortuous trajectory downward over
her heated flesh to the dimpled recess of her navel…sucking…lapping with the
tip of his tongue lower…lower, until she felt him once more between her thighs.
A sound, primitive and wanton filled the
stillness. Could that be her, she
wondered dimly? How could she possibly
make a sound like that? And still he
tortured her, the hot probe of his tongue, the gentle play of his lips driving
her…driving her…
Another moan…desperate…pleading. Oh, God… would he ever…? He held her firmly then, his control
consummate as she lost the last of hers and bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her body writhed against him, her back
arching, her fingers twining painfully in his hair as she felt the sweet,
shattering response of her body overcome her.
She wanted more…so much more…so much…
And then, in one hard, quick thrust he was inside of
her, his burgeoning manhood filling her until she was sure there could be
nothing better on this earth than to die in his arms. Deeply he stroked, and deeper still…her moans
taking on a desperate rhythm as wave after wave swept over her, carrying her
beyond sanity to a place where only lovers could exist. Then, as the last tiny bit of her reserve
crumbled, she heard him groan, his body stiffening. With a final massive thrust he sent them both
spiraling into flaming oblivion, writhing against each other in a climactic pas
de deux until finally they lay trembling in each other's arms again…gasping in
the chill night air…once more among the world of mere mortals.
They lay silent and breathless as the world formed
around them once more, the only sound the thunderous pounding of their hearts,
beating as one in the ethereal night. He
rolled toward her then, cradling her in his arms as if to keep the outside world
at bay for a moment…or a lifetime.
"No company this time," he murmured,
"I'm glad. I couldn't give you up
again, Keri…not ever again."
Keri nodded, his words filling her with a sweet
acceptance of what was meant to be…what had always been meant to be. "I know," she whispered
softly. "I don't think I could
stand to lose you again either. It would
be too hard…too painful to do again.
It's like fate's given us another chance, and I have it on good advice
that those are hard to come by."
He held her tightly against him once more, as though
to ban the very shadows from coming between them. "We could make a family, you know. You and I, Jeremy and Sarah…I think we'd be good
together. You'd think the kids were
brother and sister already, the way they act with each other.
Should she tell him now? The opportunity was there, crying to be
realized, begging to be shared. She
paused…considering the import of what she had to say, realizing that it could
never be taken back…and decided that it needed to be said, but tactfully.
"You know, the day Sarah and I arrived, I didn't
think your father was going to allow me to stay," she began, searching for
a way to ease into the topic. "I
thought he was going to have the elders throw me out on the spot. But then my Father came home and said it was
all right. I guess time and fate was on
our side even then."
He laughed, an ironic note, and took her hand in
his. "He wasn't going to let you
stay, at least that's how I heard it, but your Father stood up for you at the
meeting…actually backed my Father down.
Didn't you know? I was sure you'd
heard. No one's ever done that
before…not ever."
She was puzzled then.
Why hadn't her Father told her?
Why hadn't he welcomed her more openly if he was willing to challenge
the almighty Jacob Calendar to have her here?
Jim saw her faint scowl and was quick to amend his
words. "It's alright now
though. We're not kids anymore. Not that it's necessary, but he'll have to
accept our marriage this time, and he'd be a hypocrite not to allow us to build
our lives here in the town where we were raised. We can have it all, Keri. Finally, after twelve years we can have what
we should have had so long ago. It's
perfect."
Had she heard him right? Her…raising Sarah in this place? How long would it be before some village elder
approached them to arrange a marriage for Sarah? What could she tell her daughter when college
beckoned and she realized that her lot in life confined her to New Hope, to
baking cinnamon rolls? She'd raised
Sarah to believe that she could set her sights as high as her dreams. She couldn't…wouldn't take that away from her
now.
"Here, Jim?
You want us to make a life here?
After everything we've been through…why here?"
He looked at her as though she'd missed a beat
somewhere along the line, as though he could feel their newfound bliss
crumbling before his eyes. "But…I
told you Keri. I told you about
Jeremy…his fears. You saw how he was
when we got here. You see how he is
now. He needs this, Keri. If I ever want my son to be whole again, I
need to stay here where he feels safe and secure."
She wanted to hit him then, wanted to take her fists
and pound against his chest as she'd never done before in her life. This couldn't be happening again! New Hope
had come between them yet another time, and the thought was more than she could
bear.
"Jim," she began, her throat constricting
painfully, "I can't stay here. Not
now…not with Sarah. I can't raise her in
a place where women have no choices. I
can't take away everything I've always told her was her right in life, just so
that I can have a second chance at my own.
It wouldn't be fair, Jim. Can't
you see that? I have a child to look
after too."
Now it was his turn to frown. No, he hadn't seen that…hadn't thought
that. In his own paternal mind such a
possibility had never existed…until now.
She watched in panic as he rolled the possibilities around in his mind,
arriving again and again at the same bottom line. He couldn't leave, and she couldn't stay. As the old saying went: "A bird and a fish can fall in love, but
where do they make a home?" There
could be no home for them…not now, or ever.
Fate had dealt them a cruel blow once again.
"I can't change," he croaked. "He's my son, and he needs me. I have to put his needs first, Keri, the same
as you have to look after Sarah's.
Parents don't always have a choice…I can't…"
She pressed her fingers against his lips to still his
anguish. She could have told him then
that he had two children to consider in this equation…not just a son, but a
daughter as well, but it was too late.
What would he say? What would he
do if he knew? Would he change his plans
and leave New Hope, forever resenting both her and Sarah for the necessity of
compromising Jeremy's needs? Would he
insist that she remain here in New Hope…use his legalese to demand equal
custody? Would she lose her right to
protect her daughter's future if he knew?
A tiny door closed in her heart, shutting out the
brilliant glow that had so recently appeared.
It wasn't fair, but there it was.
Fate was playing with them once more, a cruel game, and once again
they'd lost. But, this was the last
time, she promised herself…the very last.
"Then I guess that's it," she murmured as
she gathered her clothing about her.
"We've run out of options. I
can't stay and you can't go. That pretty
much says it all, don't you think?" she said tersely through taught, hard
lips.
Quickly she dressed, then reached for the ladder, her
means of escape from this tortured scenario.
"Jim," she added as she began to descend. "The kids have become friends. I don't want to change that. It wouldn't be fair. But, as far as we're concerned, it's
over. I can't do this again, and I don't
want to, so stay away…please?"
He opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of
it. She was right. As painful as it was, hers was the only
solution. When Paulette was gone, she
and Sarah would go their separate ways, and he would remain here…a fish and a
bird…with no place to call home.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 14
Morning came, a dim, shrouded sunrise hidden well
beyond the scope of human eyes, tucked silently away in the wilderness.
It started far to the north…a single raindrop falling
on the rocky slope of Beaver Dam Mountain, and there it waited…just for a
heartbeat. Then slowly, following the
lines of gravity, it began to make its way along a hardened furrow, worn smooth
by its predecessors in millenniums past.
It would have been a lonely journey, and short-lived,
had not a second wanderer of its ilk quickly met it on its slippery
trajectory…then a third. Within seconds
they were joined in kind by hundreds of others…then thousands, until the
parched and arid ground could hold no more and a minute rivulet began to form.
And so the tiny community traveled down the slope
together, picking up speed and volume in its rush toward destiny, pushing aside
the tiny twigs and seeds that dared to get in its way, until finally it was
joined by yet another rivulet, and became a stream of minor proportions.
Emboldened now by its added authority, it once more
quickened its pace toward the cholla-choked ravine below, to the dry wash where
even now the stony bottom was becoming saturated by other such streams. It was a joyous reunion, older than mankind
itself, and there it stopped in a rocky basin, whirling in aqueous communion…
waiting…growing.
A young female coyote, heading for shelter from the
growing storm, saw the pool and paused to take advantage of nature's
blessing. Water, fresh and chilled from
its mountain travels was both rare and precious in a land such as this, too
tempting to bypass…and so it stayed.
Soon the pool, which had barely reached her ankles
mere moments before, had risen in rapid succession to a midpoint on her legs,
bits of tamarisk and juniper bark swirling now in a minor vortex at its
center. The coyote backed away, startled
at the abrupt change. She had learned,
even in her brief existence, that this was a harsh land, unforgiving of
mistakes, a land where only the most cautious survived… and so she paused to
assess her surroundings.
The rain was now pouring down in torrents, not
something the young coyote appreciated, and so she decided that she had slaked
her thirst enough and should return to her burrow amid the rocks on the upper
terrace…a wise decision, but too long in coming.
Lightning flashed…a thunderous boom, and Mother Nature
sent a jagged bolt of electricity into the rocks nearby. Stunned, the coyote tried to jump…to leap out
of harm's way, but found herself dazed and confused by the turn of events. Her legs, once limber and responsive, now
hindered her escape, quivering uselessly as she dropped into an unbidden
crouch. The guard hairs on her back rose
to attention. She shivered in terror,
unable to make her body respond, unable to climb toward the sanctuary above.
…and the water rose.
The basin in which she lay, dry only minutes before,
was now a wildly swirling whirlpool of branches and leaves, all fighting for
passage to another place, another confluence in the valley below… all spinning
crazily in a torrent that now gushed in mad profusion from the mountainside
above.
Like an ancient seduction, the Virgin River Gorge
opened its arms below, the flood plain to the south calling, inviting, until
finally the pool began to overflow its banks and race in a riotous cacophony
toward the valley floor. The coyote,
exhausted now from her struggles, squirmed feebly as the rising water caressed
her heaving ribcage…the cruelty of nature upon her. The last thing she saw was a jagged log…a
chunk of tamarisk perhaps, rushing toward her from the slope above…then
darkness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 15
Keri and Sarah greeted the scarlet dawn once
again. For Keri, however, the telltale
signs of a sleepless night were evident.
Her pale skin and dark-rimmed eyes told a tale that her lips refused to
reveal. The end of a relationship was
difficult, the death of a dream almost impossible.
With perfunctory discipline, she and Sarah went about
the task of tidying up their room before wending their way down the aged and
creaking stairs to the dining area. As
usual, the rest of the Corman household was well on their way toward another
productive day on the farm, leaving the two sleepyheads from the big city to
while away the morning hours.
As had become their routine, Keri and her daughter
gathered a couple of muffins and two glasses of juice and made their way to the
porch swing until Isaac was done in Paulette's room and on his way toward the
barn. This morning, however, Keri felt
preoccupied, depressed, as though a dark cloud had covered the sun, taking with
it her last glimmer of hope.
Try as she might to rid herself of its shadow, the
events in the hayloft haunted her every thought. The memory of his touch, his words of passion
now taunted her, bringing shame and dejection.
She'd fallen into his arms so easily, so willingly…and now what? It would be hard, almost impossible to avoid
running into Jim Calendar in a town such as this.
And what of Jeremy and Sarah? They were sure to notice, sure to sense that
something was wrong. How could they
explain that where once a budding romance has risen, so full of potential, now
there was nothing. No, less than
nothing. Now, the very thought of ever
seeing Jim again set her teeth on edge and brought a flush of embarrassment to
her cheeks. The things she'd said…the
things she'd done…
Then, as though the gods of perversity had read her
mind, she heard footsteps along the dusty pathway and turned to find Jim and
Jeremy making their way down the sleepy street toward the river with fishing
poles and river tubes in hand. Her
throat went dry. What would she say? What could she say?
Finally the silence overcame her and she raised her
gaze to meet his, only to find him speechless as well. Nervously, he ruffled Jeremy's hair, the toes
of his worn tennis shoes raising tiny "dust devils" as he neared.
"Morning." He offered awkwardly, his hands
now thrust deeply into his pockets.
"How's your Mother today?
I'd like to come by later on and say 'Hi' if it wouldn't tire her too
much."
Desperately, Keri conjured up the ability to speak,
and finally nodded her assent. "I
think she'd like that, Jim. In fact I
know she would, but not too long, okay?
She insists that it doesn't tire her out, but I know it does."
Jim nodded his understanding, as though the words he
wanted to say…needed to say were being held captive by some muted demon. Finally, he directed his attention toward
Sarah. "We're heading down to the
river again this morning. Think you'd like
to come along? I've got an extra river
tube with your name on it."
Sarah's eyes lit up at the invitation. Her last outing on the river had been playful
and lighthearted, something she desperately needed these days. And so she turned to her mother for
permission.
"Sure," Keri acquiesced. "Why not. It's a beautiful day. Might as well make the most of it."
In no time Sarah had dashed upstairs and donned her
swimsuit for a morning on the river.
Moments later she returned, hat in hand, prepared to
wile away the morning in cool, weightless bliss. "That was fast'" Jim laughed. "You must have been expecting me."
Then, turning toward the west, he began to herd his
diminutive charges toward the Virgin…but stopped. Slowly turning toward Keri, he paused as
though weighing what he was about to say…reason warring with emotion. Finally, he turned toward the children.
"Why don't you two go on ahead and I'll meet
you," he said. But wait for
me. Don't go in until I get there. I need to talk to Keri about something for a
minute."
Keri felt her muscles tense…her head begin to
spin. This wasn't happening, she
thought. Why couldn't he just leave well
enough alone? Why did he have to poke
his finger in the wound?
Sarah and Jeremy looked from one to the other, puzzled
and confused, then did as they were bid and headed westward across the field in
the direction of the lazy waterway.
Jim coughed, clearing his throat, then searched deeply
behind her dark-rimmed eyes. "Keri,
I think we need to talk about this," he began, wasting no time on
preamble. "We can't just leave it
this way. There has to be some
solu…"
"No," she replied, cutting off his
words. "There isn't. And talking it to death isn't going to solve
anything. You're staying...and I'm
leaving. What's there to talk
about?"
Jim opened his mouth to protest…to try and find some
common ground, but saw it was useless.
The set of her jaw, the firm line of her lips said it all. There could be no compromise here. Their fates were sealed.
Angrily, he turned toward the river and began to
follow the path taken by the children.
Then, his voice terse and barely controlled he turned to face her once
more. "I lost you once, " he
said bitterly, "and that time our parents came between us. But this time it's your fault, Keri. I hope you can live with that, because it's
going to give me a hell of a lot of trouble."
And with that he was gone.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 16
The young coyote was just a memory now…no, less than a
memory. She was a victim in the
never-ending cycle of life and loss in a harsh and brutal land. Her passing had gone unnoticed, just another
abbreviated heartbeat in the whirl of sun and sand.
The confluence which had claimed her, now ran full
tilt down the saddle of the hillside, racing smoothly at first, then crashing
headlong in foamy aggression as it grew and filled the ravine on its way to
Virgin River Gorge. Pebbles were
dislodged, then rocks and tentative boulders as it coursed unerringly along its
path. Small saplings that had boasted
the temerity to take root along the edge of the dry wash became unseated and
found themselves bent and twisted in the current now, no match for the violence
that tore so unmercifully at their quaking boughs.
Then, with a velocity that only nature could conjure,
the stream burst from the hillside, diving in liquid profusion into the narrow
gorge below. There, it was met by the
flow of other streams…other gullies to form a single, massive wall of water
rushing headlong toward the flood plain to the south. It was a force now of grand
proportions…unstoppable…irresistible as it raced from the north, washing debris
before it like projectiles from some timeless weapon of the gods. No longer a slow-moving, greenish-gray river
traversing the desert floor, now it was a boiling and churning wave of furious,
brown water, plundering all it touched, tearing at the shoreline as it went…an
irresistible presence…and heading straight for the flood plain beneath New
Hope.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 17
Keri sat stunned, digesting his words, swallowing the
lump in her throat. Jim was right. This time it was her decision, but what other
choice was there? He was staying because
it was what his child needed. Why
couldn't he understand her need to do the same?
Silently she closed her eyes, willing the painful
world to pass, feeling the threat of tears welling up behind her eyelids. Suddenly, she realized that she was no longer
alone.
"Keri?"
She jumped. Her
father? Where had he come from? How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?
Uneasily he stood, trying to find a pathway through
the maze of their relationship, to find a common ground from which to touch her
life once more. With a sigh he settled
himself on the swing beside her and sat gathering his thoughts…then said the
words she never thought she'd hear.
"I heard what you said," he began…"and
I can see what it's doing to both of you.
It sits there on your face, in your eyes like a full moon. There's something I've been carrying on my
conscience for a long time now, something I've needed to tell you so many
times, but never had the chance.
"I was wrong," he intoned.
"I was
wrong to promise you to Jacob Calendar, I was wrong to stand beside him that
night in the loft, and I was wrong to keep you and Jim apart. But for what it's worth, I've paid for that
night, and for the stubborn pride that kept me from fixing my mistakes. There wasn't a night I didn't worry about you…a
night I didn't wonder where you were, what you were doing. There wasn't a second that I didn't wish you
were here, safe and sound where you belonged instead of out there beyond the
highway. But now I have to speak up,
because this time you're wrong."
Keri sat stricken…speechless. Was this the same Isaac Corman whose stern voice
of authority had filled her dreams since the day she was born? How could that be? The man who sat beside her was a mere mortal,
as human and as flawed as the rest of breed…and he was wrong.
Suddenly, it was as though a lifetime of verbal armor
had come crashing to the ground, and the man behind the mask stood before
her. This was the man who held Paulette
lovingly in his arms, the man who had dared to face Jacob Calendar on his own
turf for her sake. Not chiseled from
stone, no longer stern and forbidding…he was human, just as she was…and he'd
been wrong.
"I can't change this," she whispered, her
throat constricting. "There isn't
any other choice. Jeremy needs to stay
here, and I need to go. There's no
future in that. It can't work. It's over."
She turned toward him then, a child once more, someone
confused and vulnerable who needed the sage hand of a guiding parent. Instead, she found a friend.
"Nothing is over," he replied, a faraway
look in his eyes. "Nothing is over
until the last breath leaves your body…until nothing is left but a huge empty
place in your heart. I know your
differences seem impossible, but they aren't, not as long as you love each
other. If you want it badly enough
there's always a way…a space to build something new…something that works. New Hope and Los Angeles aren't the only
places to live. There's a whole world to
be had, Keri. Find your place and make a
home there, or you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
Isaac stood up, and with a sheepish nod he began to
shuffle out toward the barn then, his steps heavy with a burden that seemed
heavier with each passing moment.
"Nothing is over until the breath leaves your body," he'd
said, and deep down in her heart she knew he hadn't been talking about her and
Jim.
Her Father was right.
She and Jim had waited a lifetime to be together, it was foolish to lose
each other now when they were so close.
They could make a home for each other.
Somewhere, they could find what they needed…a hearth to warm themselves
by for a lifetime.
She had to tell Jim…had to let him know how wrong
she'd been before it was too late.
Driven, she fairly leaped from her seat and began to
rush out into the field behind the house, her heart pounding as she covered the
distance between them in her mind. It could work, she thought…it had to. And if it didn't, then they'd try again, and
again until it did.
As long as there was breath in her body, nothing was
impossible.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 18
Keri reached the edge of the pecan grove on the upper
terrace just in time to see Jim Calendar wade into the calm, peaceful waters
below where the two splashing children drifted happily in their inner
tubes. She doubted that he'd have the
chance of a snowball in Hades of catching anything with all the ruckus nearby,
but he seemed to enjoy trying, and that made all the difference.
It looked so perfect, so right that Keri hated to
spoil it, and so she slowed her pace and instead of rushing headlong she sat
for a second beneath her favorite tree , catching her breath and watching as
the sunlight played along the riverbank between them. It was like something out
of a novel by Mark Twain, a diminutive Huck and Tom duo, floating lazily on the
Mississippi as the day wove its spell around them. Dragonflies flitted past, and every now and
then a minnow would break the surface sending tiny ripples along the
shore. Life could be good here in New
Hope…sometimes.
She watched with interest as Jim cast his line again
and again, his eyes only leaving the giggling pair of children for brief
seconds as the fly settled silently onto the slow-moving water. He was a good father, even from here she
could tell that much. However terrible
Jeremy's demons were, his Father wasn't one of them.
As for Sarah, it seemed as though she'd known Jeremy
forever, instead of only meeting him a few short days ago. She seemed to know instinctively how to reach
out to him, to circumvent the dark shadows that surrounded his young existence. They were good together, happy, and the
relief in Jim Calendar's face showed his gratitude. They'd make a good family, she smiled.
Finally, the heat began to soak through her clothing,
through her hair and skin, and she decided that she could wait no longer to
approach her lover and share her revelation with him.
Slowly she rose, dusting the soft loam from her bottom
and stretching her arms above her head to work out the stiffness that had
overcome her beneath the tree. It was
then that she noticed a slight quickening of the breeze, barely perceptible,
and a low, almost inaudible rumbling to the north. The weather must be shifting, she
thought. Maybe it was time for the
lighthearted gathering to move along closer to home after all.
Quickly she turned her head to the north, upriver
along the curling waterway toward Virgin River Gorge…and froze. There, spreading massively along the
floodplain was a surging sea of brown, washing everything before it, scouring
the land in its passing as it made its way toward the riverbed below the grove.
Screaming, she began to run down the slope, her body
taut, her voice hoarse and strident.
"Flash flood!" she cried, her voice
cracking. "Get out of the
water!"
Over and over she shrieked the warning, her voice
ragged now, her trembling legs stumbling on the roots that clawed and twisted
along the slope. They had to hear her,
she prayed inwardly…they had to! But
once again fate had thrown down the gauntlet, and her voice was lost in the
rustle of the wind.
Jim noticed her just as the wall of water swept around
the bend a hundred yards north of their peaceful playground, but it was too
late. With the speed of a runaway
locomotive, the wave was upon them, picking up the children's tubes like leaves
on a millrace and sending them hurling downstream in wild discordance.
In a mad lunge, Jim dove into the boiling fury of the
stream, grabbing first Sara's, then Jeremy's arms as they swept past. The force of the water pummeled against his
body, the debris ravaging his flesh as he clung tenaciously to his precious
charges, refusing to release his grip as his arms became twisted and strained
in the current. Islands of sodden grass
and branches lodged against his chest…over and over again his head slipped
below the surface, his mouth filling with the muddy water, his muscles
straining, but still he hung on.
Then, within seconds, all three vanished from sight as
the wave rounded the curve of the riverbed and raced onward toward its destiny.
Keri lay sprawled on the ground where her last
stumbling fall had deposited her, staring…praying that what lay in front of her
was only an illusion. The river, which
only minutes before had been weaving its way along a lazy channel far below,
had now risen to a point on the bank where even the trees lining the lower
terrace were in danger of being washed away.
Massive islands of flotsam surged past, silt-laden brown fury…but of the
playful threesome there was…nothing.
Help! They
needed help!
Quickly she scrambled to her feet and ran shrieking
toward the grove above, her voice strained and frantic. "The River…oh my God…help…the
river!" she screamed incoherently.
"Someone…they're gone! They
need help…anyone! Get 'Search and Rescue'...oh please…can't someone help?"
In no time at all a small crowd had formed among the
trees, trying to calm her, to find out what had happened. Immediately, a messenger was sent to the call
box along the highway to enlist the aid of the Mohave County Search and Rescue
team. Then, because of its close
proximity downstream, the Search and Rescue division of Clark County, Nevada
was also alerted and began a similar search from the south.
Within an hour the area was filling with trained
professionals from the two counties, combing the riverbanks on horseback and in
helicopters, all searching desperately for any sign of the Jim Calendar and the
lost children. In a state bordering
hysteria, Keri listened the long day through as report after report came back negative
from the search teams. The massive piles
of debris deposited along the channel as the water receded could have hidden
anything, they said…it would take time.
And so the day wore on, frightening and
unendurable. The river had crested about
an hour before sunset, and then slowly began to recede once more, dropping
silently back into its ancient bed. The
devastation left in its wake was awesome.
Uprooted trees, mountains of brush and branches lay piled along the
banks of the floodplain. The current had
dredged a new channel, closer now, and the shoreline was barely
recognizable.
Keri had spent the day suspended on a pendulum between
hope and hopelessness. Then, as the
first twinkling stars of nightfall made their way into the darkening sky, the
search teams were forced to cease their scrutiny of the riverbank until morning
could give them some remote chance of finding the objects of their search.
Almost catatonic with fear and dread, Keri had
remained at the Search and Rescue base camp in New Hope until the last search
party had been called in for the night.
Desperately, she pleaded for more time…minutes…seconds, but it was to no
avail. Continuing the search in the dark
was futile at best. Not only would a
nocturnal search endanger the teams, she was told, but they could also pass Jim
and the children in the dark without even seeing them. It was useless. They would begin again at daybreak. Until then, there was nothing that could be
done.
Grateful for their help, the people of New Hope opened
their doors to the members of the search teams that night, housing them within
their homes, feeding them with their own families, offering them whatever
meager hospitality was available. It was
something that most of the younger generation of Calendarites had never seen,
so many new faces, so many new tales to tell.
A meeting was called in the town hall, and Jacob
Calendar himself spoke to the people of New Hope, calling for their prayers in
this time of need. He looked older
somehow, or was it her imagination? Did
the man of stone have a heart after all?
For herself, she had no doubt. The sight of Jim and her beloved Sarah, borne
away on the crest of the wave had all but broken her last tentative grip on
life and love. First Shawn, now
Sarah…and just when she'd made a commitment in her bruised and tortured
heart…Jim Calendar and his son as well.
It wasn't fair.
The old saying "God never gives us more than we
can bear" flitted through her agony.
It wasn't true, she thought, it couldn't be, or else this wouldn't be
happening. She'd exceeded her
limitations long ago, and still the torment continued.
One by one the search teams returned to base camp and
were taken into local homes for the night.
With each came the fervent hope that someone, anyone had seen something
that might give those who grieved some faint glimmer of hope…but it was not to
be. With each came the oft-repeated
condolences, and assurances that as soon as it was light they would continue
the search. Finally, long after the sun
had set, the last of the searchers checked in with the same hollow report. There was nothing to do now, but wait.
Craving the solitude of her own mind, her own
thoughts, Keri returned to the one place that seemed to offer her a small
degree of peace on a night filled with torment…beneath the pecan tree. So, slipping away into the soft velvet
darkness she took her place beneath the boughs and prodded the tiny glimmer of
hope that still lay kindled in her heart.
They could be alive, she thought. It was possible, wasn't it? Somewhere downstream they could be waiting
for a rescue party to find them, to help them…but they would have to wait until
tomorrow. She thought then of other
times, other floods along the Virgin, and the many rowboats and bits of paraphernalia
that had been washed down river amid the crush of weeds and branches. There
were places that were natural catch basins in times like those…places that were
barely visible from the air, and deceptively tucked away to all but those who
knew the area. Jim and the children
could be in just such a place right now, hurt…waiting…hoping…
She recalled a place downstream where her favorite
rowboat had come to rest on just such an occasion almost fifteen years
ago. It was a gorge of sorts, carved by
eons of runoff from the high country, its only entrance choked with the debris
of other floods. It appeared simply as a narrow fissure from
above, and could be easily overlooked, she thought. Unless you actually knew of its existence, it
was all but invisible.
She could find it though…even in the dark. She'd been there many times, even made a
secret hideaway there when she was a teenager and was feeling rebellious. Could she…should she…?
There was certainly nothing to keep her here, she
thought dimly. If for no other reason,
it would give her something to do…something to fill the endless night until
morning came and the search resumed. Why
not?
And so, quietly she returned to the house and climbed
the stairs to her room. There she
emptied Sarah's backpack and began to refill it with odds and ends she'd
scrounged silently from around the homestead.
Soon, equipped with a few emergency essentials, she was on her way along
the sodden bank of the Virgin River.
Carefully she picked her way along the channel, the
full moon casting long shadows along the muddy shoreline as she wove her way
around the piles of debris left behind after the deluge. The river, still swollen but now back within
its channel, flowed silently to her right, murmuring to her as though to guide
her way along its secret heart. It was a
long shot, she conceded…an essay in futility, but what else was there to
console her on this night? At least now
she was doing something, striving to conjure a miracle instead of sitting alone
in her room waiting for the dawn.
She stumbled, something brownish, furry and very dead
squished beneath her feet. Cringing, she
carefully circumvented the pulpy mass and continued on her journey down river,
her flashlight scanning along the bank, searching the brush piles as she went.
For hours Keri inched her way southward, searching
left and right, calling her daughter's name in the night. The gulch, it should be close now, she
thought. She could still see it in her
mind's eye, but it had been so long…so many years, and her memory was failing
her. Desperately she scanned the lower
terrace for a break in the underbrush, anything that would disclose the mouth
of the gulch…and then she heard something.
Far to her left, below a rocky outcropping of
sandstone came what sounded like a whimper, the soft sniveling of a child.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 19
It had come from out of nowhere…a wall of water so
enormous, so devastating that the very air quivered in its passing. And then Sarah felt it surge around her,
lifting her, carrying her along its thunderous course as it raced headlong like
a murderous roller coaster along the banks of the Virgin.
Blindly she reached for Jeremy, grasping through the
brush and silt-laden water until her hand came in contact with his
shirtsleeve. She grabbed him then, as
though her life, or his, depended upon it, her nails digging into the wet
fabric of his tee-shirt, trying desperately to retain hold of the slippery
material. But her tentative grip was no
match against such an overwhelming force of nature.
"Please," she begged inwardly as she felt
him slip from her grasp.
"Please…let me hold on…let me…"
And then as though her prayers had been answered, she
felt Jim's arm hook into her own, joining both her and Jeremy in a tight
embrace…but the worst was not over…not yet.
In alarm she saw that Jim was facing into the current,
debris swirling dangerously around his face, his head repeatedly sinking below
the grimy water. A large willow branch
now appeared in the froth, its shattered edge beating unmercifully against the
side of her rescuer's vulnerable head.
Quickly she shoved her left leg between the river tubes, kicking for all
she was worth, forcing her leg between the branches in an effort to redirect
the projectile.
It was then that the tubes began to turn, twisting
clockwise in the current, separating the tangled mass of bark and leaves from
the small island of humanity…but not before it wrenched Sarah's leg to the side
with a bone-cracking jolt. A sudden pain
shot through her ankle, racing like wildfire through her leg. Salty tears mixed unnoticed with the grimy
water as she struggled for control. She
mustn't give in, she thought, she mustn't.
Battered and beaten, Jim clung as though by sheer
force of will to the two frightened children.
His head pounded where the branch had done its worse… his vision
blurring and his consciousness dwindling.
Then, just as his strength began to fade, he felt the gnarled and
pebbled shoreline beneath his feet, heard the echoed roar of the wave as it
crashed against rocky, cavernous walls…and then nothing.
Time passed.
It was dark
when he awoke. All around him the
stillness cloyed like a living, breathing thing, pressing against his eyelids,
curling wetly against his battered flesh.
Dazed and disoriented he tried to rise, searching the darkness
for…what? Jeremy and Sarah! Where were they? And then, breaking through his uncertain
claim to consciousness, he heard it…something dim and far away, but decidedly
human.
A voice. No,
not quite a voice, more of a whimper…a child somewhere in the inky blackness
that covered him.
"Jeremy"? he called, listening to the hollow
resonance of his voice as it reverberated around him. "Jeremy?
…that…you?"
He closed his eyes and listened. His head…oh God how his head hurt. Weakly, he tried to rise, to stand, but soon
felt himself slipping once more to the wet and debris-strewn floor. What was happening, and why was the floor
shifting beneath him?
Once more he called, but this time another voice
answered.
"Jim?
We're here…we're here."
Yet again he opened his mouth to speak, but the words
in his mind faded into the dark confusion around him. What was wrong? His legs didn't work, and now this?
"Sarah? Is
that…you? That… Sarah…Jer.
Are you? Okay? Where?" Then his head began to throb,
his mind spinning and the silence gathered around him once more.
Hours went by, time lost in a vacuum until finally he
opened his eyes again. How long had it
been, he wondered? How many hours…days? And the children…where were they? Were they safe? Were they…?
"Jeremy?" he croaked. "Sarah?
Oh God…where are you?"
A tiny voice rose in the stillness…the voice of a
girl, a child masking the heart of a woman.
"We're here, Jim. Jeremy's scared,
but I think he's okay."
Here? Where was
here, and why…? Then he remembered, the
dim recollection fighting its way to the surface. A wave, sweeping the world before it had hit
them, carrying them away on its heaving breast.
He'd grabbed the kids as they'd been hurled toward him, and then… Then all was lost. What had happened after that? All he could remember was pain and terror. Determination. Holding onto the children as though his life
and theirs depended upon it. And now
here they were…but where was "here"?
His head began to pound. Dazed and confused, he tried to clear his
mind, to focus on the realities that crouched menacingly in the impenetrable
blackness. Frustrated, he peered into
the gloom, but try as he might the darkness around him continued to tilt and
whirl like some mad carnival ride, his stomach lurching until finally he closed
his eyes and lay back against the cold, wet stone one more time.
Then, somewhere far out in the dim reaches of
consciousness he heard it again, calling him back, reminding him of his earthly
responsibilities. He had a job to do,
children to care for. He needed to be
here.
And so he pried his eyes open once more and scanned
the unrelieved blackness for his diminutive charges.
"Jeremy?
Sarah? Where are you? Are you alright?"
Suddenly, her voice rose to his right, startling him
in its nearness, probing the already tortured remnants of his mind.
"We're here, Jim," she answered quietly, her
voice strained with the burden of control she was striving to maintain. "Jeremy's okay, I think. He's scared though, but I have him close to
me, and I don't think he's hurt anywhere…but you keep falling asleep. That log…it kept hitting your head…did
it…?"
"I'm okay now," he interrupted, trying in
vain to offer some reassurance.
"But how long…when did it get dark?"
I don't know how long," she whispered in
response. "But it's been a long
time. You keep waking up, and
then…" Her voice quivered, telling him more that her words ever could.
"It's okay, Sarah. How are you doing? Are you hurt?
Do you know where we are?"
He cringed inwardly. He was
asking so much of her…so much from one so young, but he needed to know.
"I…I think I hurt my leg," she replied,
stifling a sob. "I can't walk on
it. And I think we're in kind of a
cave…sort of, but it's all boxed in with branches and stuff. I couldn't get out to get help…"
Now she began to sob in earnest, her voice muted in
the impenetrable void of their dank prison.
"Jim, I can't…I don't know…it's so dark now. What should I do?"
Immediately, his heart went out to her. So brave, even now she probed the darkness
for a solution. She was so young, and
yet so old. Her mother had a right to be
proud.
"It's okay," he soothed. "You don't have to do it all. I'm fine now, I can take over. We need to wait until dawn…"
But it was a lie.
He wasn't fine. Even now, as he
fought for consciousness, he knew he wasn't fine. The burden of their survival may yet lie on
the shoulders of this brave child of Keri's.
Once more he opened his mouth to console, to reassure, but once more the
world began to tilt and whirl about him.
"Jim?" the tiny voice, so far away called to
him. "Jim?' And then the night engulfed him once more,
swallowing him in a sea of stars…
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 20
Keri paused. A
voice? Was that Sarah's voice she
heard…or the soft moan of the breeze through the tamarisks?
No. She was
sure now. It was a voice…a voice she'd
known as intimately as her own for the last eleven years. A massive wave of relief rolled over her,
carrying her through the waist-deep current to the far shore, urging her toward
the sound…but then it vanished.
"Sarah?" she called. "Sarah…is that you? It's Mom!
Call to me! I can't find
you. Holler out, Sarah…holler!"
Silence.
And then, like a specter adrift in the darkness it
came, tiny at first, and then filling the air in relief-driven volume.
"Mom?" it rose from the ravine. "Mom, is that you? We're here…We're HERE!"
Keri swung her light frantically through the
gloom. Here? Where was here? All she could see were masses of sodden brush
and tree limbs, jam-packed willy-nilly against the eroded sides of the wash…the
remnants of nature's misspent humor.
Again the voice rose, this time nearer, to her left…so
close…but where?
"Mom! I
think Jim's hurt really bad. Hurry! I can't wake him up!"
A heavy dam of brush and mud had almost totally
obscured the entry, but as though in a dream her memories came flooding back to
aid her. Frantically she wedged the
flashlight in the fork of a doomed sapling and began to claw at the debris that
separated her from her loved ones.
Minutes seemed like hours as she thrust her bare hands into the wet
brush-laden muck, over and over until the thorns of the desert scrub that
barred her entry had torn her fingers to shreds and she felt the sting of a
thousand nettles setting her palms on fire.
She had to…she had to…and then she broke through to
the other side. A small breach at first,
but an ever-widening one began to grow before her until finally she was able to
shine her light into the cavern beyond.
Why hadn't Sarah tried to get out? What had kept her daughter from doing the
same thing she had? It wasn't like Sarah
to take adversity lying down. And then
she saw it, the awkward angle of her foot laying helplessly in the muck…and
beside her the pale, ravaged face of Jim Corman.
If she'd been frantic before, her efforts now lost all
caution and drove her to widen the gap until she too felt the gloom enclose her
and she was at once by Sarah's side.
Silently she hugged the children, her eyes taking in the dank desolation
that held rein over this abandoned piece of God's earth. It was incredible that they were alive at
all, she marveled, wide-eyed. They must
have been flung with tremendous force into this forgotten hole, entombed by a
wall of silt and debris.
Quickly, she scurried across the floor to Jim’s side,
her face taut with fear. What if he…
No, she wouldn’t allow thoughts like that into her
mind. It couldn’t happen…again. Gently she pressed her fingers against the
underside of his wrist. Was there a
pulse? Oh God, please let there be a
pulse!
Nothing.
Then she ran her fingers along the left side of his
throat. Maybe there…
Yes! Her heart
fairly leaped with joy. A pulse, weak
and thready, but there none-the-less. A
quick scan with her flashlight revealed a gash, deep and jagged across his
forehead. A concussion…was that why he
was…silently she fought for control. She
had to be strong.
Immediately she scanned the small cavern with her
flashlight, taking in the mud-streaked, twisted expanse of Sarah's calf, the
viscous gash along Jim's hairline, and poor, frightened Jeremy huddled by
Sarah’s side. They needed to be far from
here, and now. This was no place to be,
no place at all…but how?
She could have kindled a fire and then sent Sarah
upriver with the flashlight to get help, but one look at her child's tortured leg told her that wasn't
possible. Jim was murmuring sporadically
now, almost incoherently, and Jeremy was frozen with fear. She wouldn't leave them…she couldn't leave
them alone. There was no help for them
until morning brought the search crews back out along the river. They would have to make do.
Quickly, Keri tugged a large bath towel from her pack
and lay it over the shivering man at her feet.
Then, searching the upper reaches of the rock enclosure, she tried to
gather enough dry driftwood from past floods to start a fire and warm their
soggy shelter.
It took a while, and it was all Keri could do to
control her panic, but after a few tries she finally managed to strike a match
and light some tiny twigs left high in the cavern walls by nesting
swallows. Quickly she gathered some of the
damp brush near the fire so that it too might dry and become acceptable fuel,
then gathered the children near the blaze.
Immediately the gloom retreated, exposing the worn and
aged walls of the cavern. Long forgotten
smoke trails lined the ceiling, and ancient petroglyphs smiled their faded
greetings from a distant expanse. How
many people had sought shelter in this place over the ages, she wondered…and
how had they fared?
There would be time enough to wonder about such things
as the night wore on, she thought, diving deep into her knapsack. Hurriedly, she pulled out a pair of thick,
bathroom towels and wrapped the two trembling children snugly within. It was inadequate, she realized, but it would
have to do. It was all she had…that, and
a small bundle of jam-filled biscuits scavenged from the pantry as she'd left.
Eagerly the children eyed the brown and chewy
feast. Biscuits from the Corman table
were good anytime, but in this instance they were manna from heaven! Ravenously they stuffed first one fistful,
then another into their mouths as though each morsel might be their last.
When their empty stomachs had been sated, Keri turned
her attention to Sarah's leg. It was
obvious by the angle and the swollen discoloration that it was broken and was
giving the brave child more pain than she would admit. It was a job for a doctor, not a frantic
mother, but for the moment she was all there was.
"Honey," she began, "I can't do much
about this. I'm so sorry. I think it might be broken. I have a little aspirin with me, and I can
try to remember how to brace your leg so it's easier for you to manage…but
that's all."
Sarah's lips curled into a weary, mud-bedraggled
smile. "Dumb, huh? First bone I've ever broken, and it has to be
here." She tried to laugh, to
conceal her fears, but the telltale tear trails on her cheeks said it all. She was in over her head. She needed Keri to be strong for both of
them.
She turned to Jeremy next, his eyes frozen in fear,
his hands closing convulsively on his father's shoulder. "We're going to be okay, Jeremy. I promise.
Trust me. Tomorrow everything is going
to be better. We just have to be brave
for a few more hours. Can you do that
for me?"
She waited for his response, her heart going out to
the frightened child…and then, to her great relief, he nodded. Forcing a smile, she patted his leg and
continued. "I have an important job
for you to do, Jeremy. We need your
help. If I give you the flashlight, can
you check around in here for the driest sticks you can find and keep the fire
going while I try to help your Dad and Sarah?"
Again a pause, and finally he nodded once more. Then, taking the flashlight from her hand he
moved a few feet to the right and began to check among the debris for possible
twigs and branches to dry.
Keri swallowed.
She didn't give the task much hope, but it would keep him busy and give
his mind something to work on.
Next she turned her attention to Sarah. Her slender calf, so strong and straight only
this morning was now purple and disfigured.
It needed to be splinted, braced until proper help could be reached, but
could she manage it, Keri wondered?
Rummaging in her knapsack, Keri unearthed a large bottle full of potable water and a pair of
aspirin. "I know this isn't going
to help much," she whispered as she handed the pills to her daughter,
"but it's all I have." Then,
watching as Sarah popped the medicine into her mouth, she pressed the spout of
the water bottle against her daughter's lips.
Keri waited about 20 minutes, until the hard line of
her daughter's mouth began to relax, and her eyelids began to droop. How often had she seen this done on
television? How often had she watched as
one hero after another bandaged a pain-riddled victim? It all looked so easy there, she
reflected. And what about that first aid
class she'd taken when Sarah had been a “Wilderness Girl”. What had they told her? She could do it, she reassured herself. She had to.
Quietly, she suppressed her fears, willing herself to
exude a degree of confidence that now seemed a world away. Then, searching the cavern for a pair of
sticks of the proper length, peeled and smooth by the ravages of time and the
wilderness, she helped Sarah over to the fire and set to work.
Her fingers shook, her heart beating thunderously in
her ears as she set about her task. It
took a little while, longer than she'd anticipated, but soon a respectable
splint began to form, bound securely by strips of flannel from the bottom of
Keri's own shirt. Time and time again Keri
strained her eyes trying to gauge the level of pain she was inflicting on her
brave but anguished daughter, but as always, Sarah held the truth close to her
heart and gave nothing away. If not for
the pale, pasty expression on her taut features, Keri would have almost thought
her asleep.
Finally, the gruesome chore was over, and Sarah's jaw
began to relax a little in the low glow of the firelight.
"Are you alright, Sweetheart?" Keri
whispered in the dank gloom. "Is
there something more I can do for you?"
Slowly, Sarah shook her head. "How's Jim?" she asked, her eyes
trailing across the damp cavern floor toward the unconscious man. "He saved us, you know. He did.
And now he's…"
"Shhhhh…" Keri rejoined. "He's going to be alright. I promise.
Here, let me get the last of the biscuits out of this knapsack and make
you a pillow, then I'll go and see what I can do for him, okay?"
Sarah nodded, and after slowly tucking the knapsack
beneath her head, Keri made her way across the musty expanse between her and
the pale, rumbling form of Jim Calendar.
The fire was burning brightly now, Jeremy had taken
his task to heart and was furiously attacking the matted piles of brush for
fuel to add warmth and light to their surroundings. Keri reached over and ruffled his hair.
"You're doing a great job, Jeremy. You have no idea how much this helps!"
she said, trying to keep her voice even…to mute the suppressed hysteria she hid
inside. "You're being so
brave. When your Dad wakes up, he'll be
so proud of you."
Jeremy's eyes wandered over to the uneasy form of his
father, and a tiny quiver threatened his lower lip. "Is my Dad going to be okay?" he
asked, his voice wavering. "Why
isn't he moving?"
Keri thought quickly.
"He's trying to sleep right now, Honey. Maybe that's a good idea for you too. I think you've found enough fuel for the
moment, maybe you can share Sarah's pillow and get some rest while I try to see
what I can do for your Dad. As soon as
morning comes they'll start looking for us again, and then we'll all go
home. Okay?"
Once more the uncertainty showed in his eyes. Was this
woman someone he could trust, they asked?
Was she someone who could keep them safe? Finally, with a look of hopeless resignation,
he brushed his tear-stained cheek against his father's pale, now unmoving flesh
and crossed the floor to join Sarah on her makeshift bed near the fire.
Keri tried to swallow the lump in her throat. When
morning came the search parties would resume combing the banks of the Virgin
once more, and this time she'd make sure they were found, but would it be soon
enough?
Like the dank walls that surrounded them, her fears
began to creep inward until even she began to wonder if Jim would indeed be
"okay". In the pale firelight
she scanned his features, so cold and still.
The angry, red gash shot brazenly across his mud-streaked brow. It would need stitches, she thought, but only
the rescue crew could do that. He might
even have a rakish scar to show his grandchildren…if he survived to know his
grandchildren. That was her main worry
now.
Keri slid her legs beneath his head and cradled him in
her lap. Heavy and unmoving, he lay
there, eyes closed, as she ran her fingertips along his throat, searching once
more for the sign of a pulse. Finally,
she felt it…weak, but there. He was
still alive!
Trembling, she breathed a sigh of relief. There was hope! If only the Search and Rescue team got there
in time. Keri checked her watch…only 3
a.m. It would be at least three more
hours until morning. Could they hold
out?
Grimly she assessed their surroundings. They had a fire at least. That much was in their favor, and they were
still alive. That, in anyone's
estimation was nothing short of a miracle.
They had to make it! Why would
they have been given this blessed reprieve, only to have it taken away again
when help was so close?
Once more she gazed down into the wan and unmoving
features of her former lover, then slowly began to dab the mud from the edges
of his wound with the wet and ragged edge of her shirt. Even now he was the most handsome man she'd
ever seen, she thought…or was it that she'd stopped seeing him with her eyes
and now saw him only with her heart? Was
there a difference?
What would she do if she lost him again, she wondered. No, fate couldn't be that cruel, could
it? Surely they'd been brought back
together for a reason, some cosmic remedy to a terrible mistake. It couldn't end this way…it couldn't.
His lips were so dry, she noticed, so parched. He needed something to drink, but was that
possible in his condition? Carefully she
wet the tip of her index finger and traced the cracked and ravaged outlines of
his lips, the same lips that had claimed hers so softly, so demandingly only
the day before.
"Don't leave me," she whispered, shifting
her gaze uneasily toward the two sleeping children. "I have so much to tell you. I've been so wrong. You have to be alright…you have to."
As if in response to her words, Jim's tongue made its
way slowly out from between his teeth and began to lick the moisture from his
lips. Keri paused, as if hardly daring
to believe what she'd seen, then quickly dipped her finger again and pressed
the dripping digit to his mouth.
Again his tongue made a slow perusal of the wet
outline, then gently began to suck on her fingertip as though to glean every
last drop for his survival. Keri was
ecstatic! Quickly she tore the collar
from her shirt, the only relatively clean portion of her bedraggled clothing,
and saturated it with clean water from the bottle. Then, pressing it to his lips she smiled
through glazed and wondrous eyes as he suckled eagerly at her offering.
His pulse felt stronger now, she told herself, less
thready, more rhythmic. It was a good
sign, wasn't it? It had to be!
Over and over she "charged" the wet cloth
and watched him try to slake his unquenchable thirst. She was so tempted to lift his head and hold
the bottle to his lips, but what if he choked?
She couldn't take that risk, and so she sat patiently, repeating the
process for as long as he responded, murmuring his name in the stillness of the
cavern as he fought for life.
"Take all you can, Jim. Be strong," he whispered. "We have so far to go yet…so far. You can't leave me now. I need you.
Jeremy needs you."
At the sound of his son's name he opened his eyes, his
brow furrowed and ravaged.
"Jeremy…where…" he tried to croak, but all that came out was a
garbled mishmash that only Keri could have understood.
"Shhh," Keri said softly. "He's all right. He's sleeping now, over by the fire with
Sarah. It's you I'm worried about at the
moment. Can you hear me, Jim? Can you keep your eyes open and listen to
me?" she asked, remembering that it was wise to keep people with head
traumas alert as much as possible.
"I have something to tell you, Jim, something important. Are you with me?" she asked, slipping
the wet cloth between his lips once again.
Jim stared hazily upward and blinked his eyes once,
and then again. She had his attention,
they said, for as long as he was able.
Once more tears began to form in Keri's eyes, her
heart torn and ravaged by the sight of his injuries. "I need you to hang on, Jim. Hang on and stay awake. We need to wait until morning, only a few
more hours, and then help will be on the way. Can you do that? Please…try hard. Can you?"
Again he blinked, twice, and continued to follow her
face in the firelight.
What to say, she wondered. What could she talk about to keep his mind
occupied until help arrived? What could
she…
And then like a soft trickle the words began to flow,
coming from somewhere in her mind, from somewhere in her heart. "When the flood hit," she began,
"I was coming down to talk to you…about us," she began. "I wanted to tell you that we could work
it out, that as long as we loved each other then nothing was too hard to
overcome. I truly believe that, my
Love. I do."
Slowly, she scanned his features for a sign that he
heard her, that he still had a grip, however weak on consciousness. Then, as though confessing to the gods, in a
voice meant for their ears alone, she continued.
"I know
that you have to protect Jeremy, to do what's best for your son at all costs,
but there are other places that can offer what New Hope has…other places where
both kids might be able to grow up whole and complete. I know what it's like to be willing to
sacrifice everything for your child, but…Sarah is your child too."
There, she'd said it.
There was no turning back now, no way to retract the words that echoed
through her mind in haunting whispers.
"We can find a place like that, Jim. We can, and we can make a life there…all four
of us, but you have to stay awake, to hang on until help gets here in the
morning. Do you hear me?"
Again his eyes blinked, but this time she thought she saw
a tiny droplet trickle from the corner.
He'd heard, he must have. Jim had
heard, and now he knew. He had not only
a son, but a daughter as well. If only
he could hang on until morning…if only.
The long, dark night lingered forever. Keri stayed with Jim through the interminable
hours, leaving his side only long enough to check on the children and add fuel
to the fire. Finally, as the early dawn
began to send scarlet streaks across the
far horizon, she heard the rhythmic "whop-whop-whop" of helicopter
blades.
They were far, to be sure, much too far to spot them
from the air in their sheltered enclosure.
Someone had to wait on the shore, to flag them down, to let them know
where they were…but who? Jim needed her
by his side, needed her to keep him conscious, to keep him hydrated. It could take hours, she knew, before they were lucky enough to be spotted.
Sarah? No, that
wasn't possible. Sarah could barely
move, much less drag her painfully swollen leg through the wall of mire and
brambles and out into the clearing beyond.
It had to be Jeremy.
He was their only hope.
Tentatively she glanced over at his sleeping form, so
tiny and vulnerable, already tormented beyond endurance. No, she couldn't ask him. It would be too much. He needed to be here, near whatever relative
shelter and security the dim cavern could offer. That left only her. There was no other way. If the rescue teams were to spot them soon,
she had to leave them alone once again and make her way along the shoreline to
signal for help.
Slowly she lowered Jim's head, laying it gently on the
cold stone floor. Then, crossing to
where the two children lay fitfully sleeping, she lightly tapped Sarah's elbow.
Slowly her daughter opened her eyes…feverish eyes,
filled with pain.
"Sarah", she whispered. "I have to go. The helicopters can't find us unless someone
is out by the river in the clearing."
She paused then, trying to look past the brave front that rose in her
child's eyes. "Can you keep an eye
on things here, Sarah? Can you keep
Jeremy calm, and watch over Jim? Can you
try to keep him awake until help arrives?"
"You're going out there?" her daughter
asked, trying to suppress the panic in her voice. "What if he…if he doesn't…make it."
she asked, her throat constricting.
"You have to stay, Mom. I
don't know if I can do what he needs.
What if I…and he…?"
Suddenly, Keri realized what was happening. All of the suppressed emotion her daughter
had buried so deeply was now coming to the surface. She was afraid Jim was going to die, like
Shawn had, and that once again she wouldn't be able to stop it. But there was no other choice. None.
It was then Keri noticed Jeremy, his eyes open, his
frightened gaze fixed upon his father. A
scowl wrinkled his forehead, concern clouding his eyes.
Tentatively he shifted his focus on the rubble-strewn
entrance, then back once more to the dark close confines of the cavern. Security.
Then, as though a voice deep inside had spoken to him…lent him the
strength he needed, he began to tremble.
"I can do it," he said simply, his voice
steady and controlled. "I can do it
if you can tell me how."
Keri bit her lower lip. He was being so brave… so brave. She wondered if she could have come to grips
with her fears at so young an age, if she could have taken command of a terror
that no human being should have to live with and risen to do what was
necessary. But, there he was, wanting to
help, setting his mind to the task and temporarily relegating his fears to some
dim corner of his psyche..
Breathing deeply, she paused. What if she was wrong, and this scarred him
even more? Could she live with
that? Then, knowing that what he offered
was by far the best solution, she sighed,
"Are you sure, Honey?" she said, trying to keep the concern in
her voice from frightening him. "I can tell you what to do, and we won't
be far away. But, you'll be out there by
yourself. Are you sure you want to do
this?"
Once more Jeremy glanced at his father, his eyes
glazing. "My Dad would do it for
me," he said. "He always does,
but now he can't. And Sarah can't. Somebody's gotta do this and I'm the one,
right?"
Keri raised her hand and gently stroked his
mud-spattered cheek, so pale and drawn.
"Only if you're sure, Jeremy.
Are you?"
Silently he nodded, then got to his feet. "How?" he asked simply.
Keri smiled, a smile meant to bolster his courage, to
strengthen his determination, then walked toward the bramble-choked
entryway. "I'll show you where to
stand, Honey. All you have to do is
listen for the helicopters, and keep your eyes open for any people that might
come by. If you see anyone, just holler
and wave your towel so they can see you.
Can you do that?"
Jeremy took the towel in his shaking hands, gripping
it as though it meant life itself. Once
more he nodded, his eyes darting back toward the safety of the cave, and his
father.
"Uh huh," he whispered. "It's okay. Help my Dad now, okay?" he asked through
trembling lips. "It's okay," he
said again, focussing on the word as though the very sound of it would indeed
insure his safety from the cold, cruel world.
"I'm gonna get us help now."
And with that he turned his back on the cave and began to search the sky
for help from beyond.
Keri paused for a second, reassuring herself that this
was indeed the best way, and that all would come out well in the end, then she
crawled back into the cavern and slipped her thighs beneath Jim's head once
more…and waited.
It seemed like ages…eons before the dull
"whop-whop-whop" of the helicopter returned, but finally Keri heard
Jeremy's voice, faint at first, then louder yet.
"Here!" he screamed. "We're here!" she heard him
yell.
In her mind's eye she could see his small arms pumping
frantically in the air, the muddied towel cutting a path through the morning
sun. Would they see him, she
wondered? Would they? They had to, she told herself, racing toward
the entrance. Fate was on their
side. Why else had their little troop
survived so much? Why had she and Jim
been brought back together after so many years?
It couldn't end here.
Then she heard it, a slowing of the rotors, the rising
noise level, and Jeremy running back, his eyes gleaming in triumph as he broke
through the shaky barrier and knelt by his father's side.
"They're here!" he gasped, his pulse
pounding in his throat. "It's
landing…it's landing! The
helicopter…"
Keri gathered him to her, wrapping her arms around his
trembling form as the first of the search team broke through what was left of
the brush barrier. She breathed a sigh of
relief as they surrounded Jim and Sarah.
Everything was going to be all right now, she whispered inwardly. Everything…
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 21
The muted hiss of a respirator, far away, whispered
through the silent hallways as she sat watching, waiting for him to open his
eyes. The long hours had passed, each
blending one into the next until finally the crisis had passed and he was once
again on an even footing with the world around him. Now, if only he'd wake up, she prayed…if only
he'd wake up.
A moan. Soft.
Hushed. Almost indiscernible, but it was
there none-the-less. The sleeping
monitor came to life above his head, waking with a start, beating with a hearty
tattoo as it greeted the dawn. He was
awake. Finally, after so long, Jim
Calendar opened his eyes, then, blinking, he shielded himself from the blazing
sun that pierced like a blazing sword through the blinds.
"Ohhh, my head!" he murmured. Then, as though to emphasize his distress he
closed them again and resumed his silence, a measure of self-defense, she
guessed.
Adjusting the blinds she waited, quietly biding her
time until he felt the courage to try again.
It won't be long, she thought…not long now. The wait was almost over. He was safe and sound. Rest and patience would do the rest. She could manage that. Time was finally on their side.
Again he moaned, softer this time, and his hand now
sought the bandage above his left brow.
There were stitches below that bulky swath, she knew, but he wouldn't
remember that. He'd had a close call,
had come dangerously close to what might have been the end. But now he was safe, she repeated to herself
like a mantra. He was safe, and life
could begin again…here and now.
"Jim?" she whispered, afraid to break the
silence that he held so dear, needed so desperately. "How do you feel? It's Keri, Jim…it's Keri."
This time his eyes opened and remained focussed. Then, following her voice he turned his gaze
toward her, squinting through the haze until she came into view.
"Keri?" he croaked. "Keri?
What…where…?"
"Shhh.
It's okay now, Jim. Everything's
all right. We're at the hospital, and
everything is fine." She replied, anticipating his next question.
"Jeremy and Sarah are safe, they're with
Rosetta. Sarah has a broken leg, but
it's going to mend without any problems, and Jeremy is dealing with everything
remarkably well. You'll be proud of him. You're the one we've been worried about, and
now you're going to be all right too."
Groggily, Jim glanced about the room, acclimating
himself to his new surroundings, his new reality. Then, gingerly his fingers sought the swollen
lump of bandages on his forehead once more.
"And this?" he asked.
"What happened here? The
last thing I remember was…"
"You had a concussion, Sweetheart. Sarah said that a huge log hit you when the
flood swept you away. You had a
concussion and a nasty gash. They had to
stitch you up and…you may have a scar, but you're going to be fine now."
Gently he stoked the bandages, trying to remember,
amazed that something like that could be so far from his memory. Then, laying back he closed his eyes once
more and listened as Keri retold the events of that catastrophic day that so
many millennia ago.
Finally she came to an end, retelling with pride how
Jeremy had waited for the Search and Rescue teams on the banks of the Virgin,
and how bravely he'd found a way to do what needed to be done.
"He still has a long way to go," she smiled,
not wanting to get his hopes up, "But I know he has it in him. I've seen it."
Then it was his turn to speak, and haltingly he asked
the question foremost in his mind.
"And you, you said that you were coming to the river to tell me
something when it happened. Maybe now's
a good time to finish that thought," he whispered, the shadow of hope in
his voice. "What was it Keri? Tell me what it was."
Keri sank back into her chair, collecting her
thoughts, trying desperately to compose herself. Finally, setting her jaw for what was to
come, she took his hand in hers and said, "I came to tell you that we
could work it out, Jim. That as long as
we loved each other, there was nothing that was beyond our reach. Was I wrong?" she questioned, her eyes
dark with uncertainty. "Do you think
there's room for compromise between us, because if there isn't…"
Jim smiled, his finger rising weakly to her lips. "Did you even imagine I'd say 'No.' to
an offer like that?" he questioned weakly.
"Did you think I could just walk away if everything wasn't just the
way I wanted it? Don't you have any idea
how much you mean to me Keri? Don't
you?"
Wincing, he pushed the button that raised the head of
his bed so that he could get a better look at her, so that she could gauge the
import of his words.
"I love you, Keri. I've loved you ever since you were in
pigtails. I've looked for you in every
woman I've ever known, and I think I always will. Do you think I could let you go now, when we
could spend the rest of our lives together?"
Then, taking a deep breath he continued. "New Hope isn't the only sane place on
the map." He murmured. If we can't
live there, then we'll find another spot, and we'll keep looking until we get
it right. We owe ourselves
that…ourselves, and our kids. I mean, I
have two of them to consider now, don't I…two kids and the only woman I've ever
really loved. Whatever it takes, it's
worth it."
"Two?" she repeated breathlessly. "Then you remember what I told you in
the cave?"
Gently he stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "I think I knew from the moment I saw
her, Keri. I just couldn't believe
it. You've given me so much, it may just
take me the rest of my life to repay it…but I'd like to try. Don't ever leave me again, Keri. I need you.
I love you. Maybe a fish and a
bird can find a way after all, if they want to badly enough."
Keri looked on with tearful eyes. Finally, after long last, life had come full
circle and it was their time once more.
This time nothing would get in their way…they'd see to it. Fate had given them another chance, another
precious attempt to share what life had to offer.
Slowly the pieces fell into place. The scattered fragments of their lives, once
so hopelessly strewn, suddenly became one.
Keri lay her head beside his and thought of what
tomorrow might bring….tomorrow and all of the tomorrows after that. Smiling, she closed her eyes and felt his
hand in hers, knowing that this time they'd make it work. This time the lonely highway was theirs to
share…lonely no longer.
This time…was forever.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Epilog:
He watched as the bright, red glider curled slowly
against the azure sky, looping left, then right, then coming to rest at the
feet of the red-haired boy below.
The air seemed to still in reverence at the pure
wonder of it all. How he envied them,
boy and plane, and the carefree way in which they sped earthbound and airborne
through the autumn field.
With a longing almost tangible, Jeremy continued his
scrutiny of the boy and his wonderful toy, his small fingers closing about his
own imaginary aircraft as once more the scarlet glider took flight. Oh, to be a part of this magical union, he
thought…to feel the wind rushing through his hair, against his cheeks…to experience
the untroubled freedom that lay before them.
Over and over the tiny glider took to the air,
Jeremy's eyes following it…his heart not far behind. The red-haired boy whooped with glee,
running, scrambling to catch his prize as it dove from the heavens toward the
earth below, and then it happened…
An errant breeze came out of nowhere, wending it's way
through the small village, slipping silently through the ponderosas until it
found the small projectile and carried it far and away…and right into the
small, secure courtyard of young Jeremy Calendar.
He was startled at first, a dim shadow of panic
whispering in the back of his mind. The
plane, so innocent only moments before had now become a part of his cloistered
world, his careful reality. What should
he do...what should he…
Then a movement caught his eye, far out in the
field…that of the red-haired boy gesturing in his direction, urging him to pick
up the plane and follow it through the gate and into the reaches beyond...into
the uncertainties of an uncertain world…to join in weightless delight on this sunny afternoon.
Nervously, Jeremy's eyes flickered from
"Red-hair" to the plane and back again. How he longed to touch it, to feel it lift
from his grasp as it broke free from its earthly shackles, to throw caution to
the wind and race unfettered beyond the threshold of his own fears.
Once more Red-hair gestured, his arm fanning the crisp
air in silent invitation. Jeremy's pulse
began to race, his heart beating a frantic rhythm against his ribcage…and then
he began to move. Slowly at first, and
then more easily as the momentum of his own desire began to carry him, he made
his way down the never-ending stairs to the yard below and crossed toward the
scarlet lure.
It was more weathered than he'd imagined, as though it
had been through untold hardships, but survived to tell the tale. There were bright, green grass stains on its
nose, and a small crack threatened to dislodge one of its wings, but there it was. Life had apparently dealt harshly with the
small, brave aircraft, and yet it had continued to climb fearlessly into the
heavens, daring the world below to claim it once more. It was a survivor…a kindred soul.
Carefully, Jeremy felt his fingers curl beneath the
fuselage, lifting it from the scrub brush below and freeing it once more. Was it his imagination, or did he hear a sigh
of relief? A pause, then, almost
immediately he felt the wind beneath its wings, calling it aloft, urging him to
join it on its flight to freedom beyond the gate…never noticing the almost
imperceptible movement in the kitchen window behind.
From deep inside the house, Keri hesitated, then
watched the play unfold, her heart aching to nurture and protect…but this was
not her time. Everything has its moment,
her Mother had said, and this was Jeremy's.
Slowly she patted the rounded bulge of her stomach and
the new life within, as though the tiny being, yet unborn, could intercede
where she could not. Then, as she
watched, never daring to breathe, she saw his hand extend to release the latch
on the gate. He paused, his steps
tentative at first, cautious, but soon she heard his footsteps quicken and fade
into the distance…and he was gone.
Just like that.
Through unshed tears she watched the two youthful
figures far out in the field, chasing the zephyrs that carried the small balsa
icon aloft…and she knew.
Like the tiny plane, Jeremy was free at last.