soul?” she continued dramatically.
Rebecca clutched the edge of her seat. Her life before her sexual encounter with the rainmaker had been like a black-and-white nightmare, arid and repetitive, devoid of joy. Could she return to that? Torn, she swayed, then sprang to her feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “Take me!” she cried. “Cleanse my soul!”
The crowd yelled encouragement and Cheri, staring at the elated face of her friend, suddenly realized with absolute clarity what her bright new future was to be: politics. But outside the rain kept falling.
That night Jeremiah stood beside his patrol car, clutching a silver hip flask as he prodded the sodden ground with his boot. There was more water now than mud and he was deeply worried. He looked up at the moon; it was almost full. At this time of year they should be preparing to harvest. He’d thought of arresting Jacob but he was convinced the rainmaker was connected to some newfangled criminal cartel. “Probably Islamic terrorists,” Jeremiah muttered to himself and spat on the ground.
He flicked open his pocket watch. It was nearly midnight, and, as far as he was concerned, the rainmaker hadn’t left his trailer in two days.
Jacob sat on the floor in the center of the trailer, meditating in the moonlight that filtered through the clouds. He focused on one elusive image: Miranda, free in his arms. His heart was hollow with longing. He hadn’t eaten in two days and he knew that if he was to save himself he should really leave town.
The whiskey was making Jeremiah drowsy. Tired of the incessant drizzle down the back of his collar, he climbed into the car and turned on the heater. He stared out of the rain-blurred window; the silvery blob of the trailer became smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely as he fell asleep.
A second later the flock of starlings hovered above the trailer. Their shadow fell across Jacob’s face. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that he’d been summoned.
Magic is something we often don’t recognize until after the event. Perhaps this inherent elusiveness adds to the mystery. The terrible truth is that magic and tragedy are sometimes interchangeable. Jacob Kidderminister was painfully aware of this as he climbed out of the skylight and onto the roof. But, as we all know, foreknowledge is defenseless in the face of love. Surrendering to the inevitable, Jacob opened his arms wide to the sky and allowed the birds to fasten themselves to his arms. A second wave of starlings lifted up his legs and then the flock took flight, carrying the prostrate lover across the fields to the preacher’s daughter.
The starlings took him to the top of the tower. As they hovered there Jacob reached out and grabbed the huge bell. For a second he dangled precariously, his arms wrapped around the curved bronze circumference. “Please, please, don’t make a sound,” Jacob prayed, hoping that the metal tongue wouldn’t clash against the sides. Miraculously it didn’t. Carefully he rocked himself so that the bell tilted toward the floor of the belfry. When it was safe he dropped down. He crouched, waiting.
I’m here, below you.
Miranda’s voice sounded clearly in his head. Jacob ran his hands across the floor, searching. He found what he was looking for—the edge of a trapdoor. He lifted it and there she was. Her hair matted, blood still staining her shoulders and face.
“What has he done to you?” Shocked, Jacob spoke out loud. He jumped down into the room and in an instant she was in his arms, touching his face, his hair, covering him with kisses.
None of it matters now that you’re here
, her mind sang to him,
and we will be free
. Her mouth drank him in, and Jacob realized that it
was
possible to desire with one’s heart and soul. So this is love—this blinding feeling of familiarity and, at the same time, of mystery, this sense of coming home, his mind rambled, forgetting that she could think with him.
He pushed open
Rebecca clutched the edge of her seat. Her life before her sexual encounter with the rainmaker had been like a black-and-white nightmare, arid and repetitive, devoid of joy. Could she return to that? Torn, she swayed, then sprang to her feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “Take me!” she cried. “Cleanse my soul!”
The crowd yelled encouragement and Cheri, staring at the elated face of her friend, suddenly realized with absolute clarity what her bright new future was to be: politics. But outside the rain kept falling.
That night Jeremiah stood beside his patrol car, clutching a silver hip flask as he prodded the sodden ground with his boot. There was more water now than mud and he was deeply worried. He looked up at the moon; it was almost full. At this time of year they should be preparing to harvest. He’d thought of arresting Jacob but he was convinced the rainmaker was connected to some newfangled criminal cartel. “Probably Islamic terrorists,” Jeremiah muttered to himself and spat on the ground.
He flicked open his pocket watch. It was nearly midnight, and, as far as he was concerned, the rainmaker hadn’t left his trailer in two days.
Jacob sat on the floor in the center of the trailer, meditating in the moonlight that filtered through the clouds. He focused on one elusive image: Miranda, free in his arms. His heart was hollow with longing. He hadn’t eaten in two days and he knew that if he was to save himself he should really leave town.
The whiskey was making Jeremiah drowsy. Tired of the incessant drizzle down the back of his collar, he climbed into the car and turned on the heater. He stared out of the rain-blurred window; the silvery blob of the trailer became smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely as he fell asleep.
A second later the flock of starlings hovered above the trailer. Their shadow fell across Jacob’s face. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know that he’d been summoned.
Magic is something we often don’t recognize until after the event. Perhaps this inherent elusiveness adds to the mystery. The terrible truth is that magic and tragedy are sometimes interchangeable. Jacob Kidderminister was painfully aware of this as he climbed out of the skylight and onto the roof. But, as we all know, foreknowledge is defenseless in the face of love. Surrendering to the inevitable, Jacob opened his arms wide to the sky and allowed the birds to fasten themselves to his arms. A second wave of starlings lifted up his legs and then the flock took flight, carrying the prostrate lover across the fields to the preacher’s daughter.
The starlings took him to the top of the tower. As they hovered there Jacob reached out and grabbed the huge bell. For a second he dangled precariously, his arms wrapped around the curved bronze circumference. “Please, please, don’t make a sound,” Jacob prayed, hoping that the metal tongue wouldn’t clash against the sides. Miraculously it didn’t. Carefully he rocked himself so that the bell tilted toward the floor of the belfry. When it was safe he dropped down. He crouched, waiting.
I’m here, below you.
Miranda’s voice sounded clearly in his head. Jacob ran his hands across the floor, searching. He found what he was looking for—the edge of a trapdoor. He lifted it and there she was. Her hair matted, blood still staining her shoulders and face.
“What has he done to you?” Shocked, Jacob spoke out loud. He jumped down into the room and in an instant she was in his arms, touching his face, his hair, covering him with kisses.
None of it matters now that you’re here
, her mind sang to him,
and we will be free
. Her mouth drank him in, and Jacob realized that it
was
possible to desire with one’s heart and soul. So this is love—this blinding feeling of familiarity and, at the same time, of mystery, this sense of coming home, his mind rambled, forgetting that she could think with him.
He pushed open
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