moment trickled away: the mood was different now. I looked back at the door and said, “I wonder what they’ll do,” and Erin said, “Trust me, they are going with you. If I know anything about people, they’re going all the way. That woman in there’s got more heart and soul than I’ve ever seen in a stranger.”
I tried to look hurt in the moonlight. “Hey, I’ve got heart, I’ve got soul.”
“Yes,” she said, “but you were no stranger. I had heard so much about you from Miranda that I knew you long before we met.” And I thought,
wow
. Round three to me for heart. Extra points for soul.
“Denise is special,” Erin said. “I don’t know how to describe it, it’s just something I know. Goes way beyond class. She has already decided what needs to be done and now she’s got to break the bad news to him. But he will do whatever she says. He would lie down and die for her.”
“He’s smart.”
“Yes. And they’re both very lucky.”
A moment later I said, “So what’s next now that you’re back from the wilderness?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to disappear for a week into the real wilderness. I have a cabin in the mountains, where I shall write, eat very little, drink lots of liquids, meditate, and commune with nature. It’s a serious hike just to get up there. No roads, no electricity, best of all, no telephones. If I take a bath at all it will be in very cold water.”
“Can I come?”
“That would defeat my purpose, wouldn’t it? And you’ve got plenty enough to do here.”
“I’ll think about nothing all week but you getting eaten by a bear.”
“Oh, I can take care of myself. I do this every year.”
I pretended to sulk and she said, “I’ll call you when I get back.”
“That’s what they all say.”
I walked out into the yard and looked up at the sky. The old lady was still on my mind. She haunted me and I cursed myself for not listening to her better. I believed she had been trying to tell me something important, but I had heard only half of it and now none of it made any sense. How could Burton have had anything to do with our civil war? He had come to the States in 1860, a year before the war began. What could he have said or done that had gone off like a time bomb a year later?
It was crazy, almost impossible to believe.
But what a story if it were true.
I imagined Burton walking up into the yard. I saw him as a young man, just arrived from that other time, straight from the jungles of unknown Africa. How would we like each other? The first minutes would tell that tale, as they must have done with Charlie Warren. Burton formed his opinions quickly, and so did I.
Erin came down and stood beside me. For a long time we watched the sky. It was a night like I hadn’t seen in Denver since my childhood in the late fifties, long before the big buildings came with the big lights, before crowds of people flooded into the state from California and Mexico and the East Coast, leaving crud on the landscape and poison in the air. In those days I could stand in City Park and look deep into the universe. From Lookout Mountain I could see everything the big god saw before she broke it all apart and hurled it into that endless expanse of empty space. I must have had faith then. I certainly had something. How had I lost it? When had I stopped believing the god thing? I didn’t need to worry it to death, I knew when it was: the night I looked down into the bloodless face of the little girl who had been raped and strangled by her father.
I had grown cynical and easy with my disbelief. But in that moment I thought of Mrs. Gallant and, I swear, a meteor streaked across the western sky. I watched it disappear beyond the mountains and I shivered in the warm morning air.
----
CHAPTER 9
Erin and I parted company at the store, where she picked up her car and headed wearily home. I sat for a while watching the empty street and thinking about restraint. The word had become almost extinct
I tried to look hurt in the moonlight. “Hey, I’ve got heart, I’ve got soul.”
“Yes,” she said, “but you were no stranger. I had heard so much about you from Miranda that I knew you long before we met.” And I thought,
wow
. Round three to me for heart. Extra points for soul.
“Denise is special,” Erin said. “I don’t know how to describe it, it’s just something I know. Goes way beyond class. She has already decided what needs to be done and now she’s got to break the bad news to him. But he will do whatever she says. He would lie down and die for her.”
“He’s smart.”
“Yes. And they’re both very lucky.”
A moment later I said, “So what’s next now that you’re back from the wilderness?”
“Tomorrow I’m going to disappear for a week into the real wilderness. I have a cabin in the mountains, where I shall write, eat very little, drink lots of liquids, meditate, and commune with nature. It’s a serious hike just to get up there. No roads, no electricity, best of all, no telephones. If I take a bath at all it will be in very cold water.”
“Can I come?”
“That would defeat my purpose, wouldn’t it? And you’ve got plenty enough to do here.”
“I’ll think about nothing all week but you getting eaten by a bear.”
“Oh, I can take care of myself. I do this every year.”
I pretended to sulk and she said, “I’ll call you when I get back.”
“That’s what they all say.”
I walked out into the yard and looked up at the sky. The old lady was still on my mind. She haunted me and I cursed myself for not listening to her better. I believed she had been trying to tell me something important, but I had heard only half of it and now none of it made any sense. How could Burton have had anything to do with our civil war? He had come to the States in 1860, a year before the war began. What could he have said or done that had gone off like a time bomb a year later?
It was crazy, almost impossible to believe.
But what a story if it were true.
I imagined Burton walking up into the yard. I saw him as a young man, just arrived from that other time, straight from the jungles of unknown Africa. How would we like each other? The first minutes would tell that tale, as they must have done with Charlie Warren. Burton formed his opinions quickly, and so did I.
Erin came down and stood beside me. For a long time we watched the sky. It was a night like I hadn’t seen in Denver since my childhood in the late fifties, long before the big buildings came with the big lights, before crowds of people flooded into the state from California and Mexico and the East Coast, leaving crud on the landscape and poison in the air. In those days I could stand in City Park and look deep into the universe. From Lookout Mountain I could see everything the big god saw before she broke it all apart and hurled it into that endless expanse of empty space. I must have had faith then. I certainly had something. How had I lost it? When had I stopped believing the god thing? I didn’t need to worry it to death, I knew when it was: the night I looked down into the bloodless face of the little girl who had been raped and strangled by her father.
I had grown cynical and easy with my disbelief. But in that moment I thought of Mrs. Gallant and, I swear, a meteor streaked across the western sky. I watched it disappear beyond the mountains and I shivered in the warm morning air.
----
CHAPTER 9
Erin and I parted company at the store, where she picked up her car and headed wearily home. I sat for a while watching the empty street and thinking about restraint. The word had become almost extinct
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