Prophecy (12 page)

“Yes I am. Would you hand me that fork?”

“I’m telling you, I saw the biggest fish I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“By the light of the moon …”

“Yes, it was dark out.”

She flashed him a playful look as she dug into the

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frying fish. “Your Honor, my client says he saw the biggest fish he ever saw. Now, the fact that it was pitch-dark out has no bearing whatsoever on his testimony.”

Rob was stopped, realizing she could be right. “You think I didn’t see it?”

“I’m your defense lawyer. I believe everything you say.”

“Maybe it looked bigger in the dark, huh?”

“Your Honor, we plead temporary insanity.”

“But it ate a duck, Maggie!”

“Your Honor, it ate a duck.”

“I saw it.”

“Tomorrow, try to catch it. Maybe it’ll taste like duck.”

He threw up his hands in surrender. Maggie giggled as she blew on a forkful of hot fish, gently putting it in her mouth.

“Might have been a duckling, I suppose,” Rob mumbled. Then he shook it off, reaching for some paper napkins and putting them on the table.

“Mmmmmmmm!” Maggie moaned ecstatically as she mouthed the hot fish. “Taste it!”

She held out a forkful to Rob and fed it to him. His eyes rolled with approval.

“Ambrosia …” he groaned.

“This is all I want to eat as long as we’re here. I want fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“No problem.” Rob grabbed for some plates, putting them on the table. “I do happen to be one of the world’s greatest fishermen.”

“You fish and I’ll eat,” Maggie replied as she wrapped a towel around her hand to pick up the skillet.

“Now, that’s a relationship.”

As she put the skillet on the table, he bent over her and planted a kiss on her neck. It stopped her in mid-movement.

“How very nice,” she whispered.

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She turned and their eyes met, both of them filled with profound appreciation of each other.

“I’d forgotten it could be like this,” she said.

“So did I.”

She felt tearful, and was embarrassed for it.

“Like to see our wine list?” Rob asked.

“Just have my usual.”

“Chateau Lafitte?”

“Mogen David.”

“Mogen David coming up.”

He spun around to an ice chest, producing a bottle of wine.

“Where’d you get that?” she laughed.

“It was here.”

“Someone left it?”

“Compliments of Mr. Isely, no doubt.”

“Ah. Wine and cherry pie.”

“Other bureaucrats are bribed with Rolls-Royces for Christmas, all-expense-paid vacations. Me, I get wine and cherry pie.”

“Well, hell,” said Maggie, sitting down, “I don’t like Rolls-Royces.”

“I don’t, either.”

“Then again, I don’t like Mr. Isely.”

“I don’t either.”

“Pour the wine and bring on the pie.”

“Corruption, corruption …”

Maggie giggled, and so did Rob. They had successfully shaken off the frightening events of the day, and no matter what lay behind them or ahead, for this moment they were high on being together; determined to savor every moment of it.

The dinner passed with more banter about Rob’s fish story, and a lot of silences as they gazed across the table at each other and drank wine. The fire had faded to embers now; the sounds of the forest could be heard from outside: a chorus of night insects, the cry of a hawk circling high overhead.

Rob sat back, watching Maggie, basking in the peacefulness of the moment. She poured what was left

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of the wine into her glass and drank it down, closing her eyes as she listened to the sounds of the forest.

“The woods … are lovely, dark, and deep …” she whispered, reciting the lines of her favorite poem. “And I have promises to keep …”

Rob smiled. Her three glasses of wine had had an effect.

“My little horse gives his harness bells a shake,” she continued, “as if to ask if there’s some mistake …” She couldn’t remember the rest, her eyes opening and roaming as she searched for the missing words.

“To harnesses,” Rob said as he raised his glass.

“To mistakes,” she mused.

“To the woods.”

“Mustn’t forget the woods.”

“Dark and deep …”

She raised her empty glass to his and smiled sadly. “And to promises … we must keep.”

Maggie closed her eyes again; slightly dizzy, slightly euphoric, slightly melancholic. Rob rose and slipped a cassette into the tape recorder; it filled the cabin with gentle music. He moved to Maggie, whose eyes were closed, her head resting on her hands, and he touched her hair. She made a noise that sounded like purring. Taking her hand, he led her to the couch. They eased down together, she moving her head onto his lap, basking in the warmth of the fire.

“Want to know something?” she whispered.

“Mmmmmmm.”

“I was proud of you today.”

He nodded, recalling the events at the blockade. “Wasn’t that … crazy?” he whispered.

“You were so brave.”

“I was scared.”

“You didn’t show it.”

“Didn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t life be so much easier,” she said, her voice lilting slightly, “if we weren’t afraid to show we were afraid …”

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“Had too much wine?” Rob whispered.

“Not enough.”

“No?”

“Still afraid to be afraid …”

Rob smiled, She was drifting. And she was absolutely beautiful. He reached down and stroked her forehead, then swept his hand gently along her eyelids. She breathed deeply and nestled close to him.

“That Indian woman?” Maggie whispered.

“Mmmmmmm?”

“I was jealous of her.”

“Really?”

“She had real courage. … To be strong when she was frightened … to demand her own way. It’s the kind of courage that I don’t seem to have.”

“Oh, I think it takes a lot of courage to put up with me.”

“I love you,” she answered.

Rob leaned down and kissed her. She accepted it without moving, then smiled as she savored it. “Sometimes … I love you so much,” she said, “… that I wish there were more of you.”

“Well, I could gain twenty pounds.”

“I mean … I wish there were more of us.”

Within the darkness behind her closed eyes, she realized what she had said. She hadn’t planned it, it had just come out. She opened her eyes and saw it had had its effect. Rob’s expression had turned somber.

“Could we talk about it?” she asked in a whisper.

“Now?”

“Why not now?”

“Everything’s so perfect now.”

“I see.”

She could feel the wall coming up between them. The intimacy was so transient, so fragile, it took only a few words to shatter it. Maggie struggled in her mind for clarity; she tried to force that haziness away.

“Either we’re too far apart … or too close together. Is that it?”

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Rob’s posture sagged with fatigue, his head sinking back against the couch. Maggie slowly sat up, a sense of loneliness sweeping through her.

“Just … talk?” she whispered. “Is that going to spoil everything?”

“You know how I feel about it,” he answered sadly.

“About the state of the world, you mean.”

“Yes.”

She reached up and rubbed her forehead. She was losing heart. She hated that she was groggy; she wanted more than anything to be articulate. There were so many ways she had rehearsed this conversation, and now she was so unprepared.

“Listen,” she whispered. “When I was a child, my mother told me to finish everything on my plate because there were starving children in the world. And it didn’t make any sense to me.” She looked up, trying to catch his eye, but he was staring at the fire. “And now … you tell me I shouldn’t get pregnant, because there are starving children in the world. And that doesn’t make any sense to me, either.”

“It does to me.”

“What is it, Rob?” she asked gently. “Are you afraid?”

He rose from the couch and walked to the fire, gazing into the smoldering embers.

“Is that it?” she asked. “You’re afraid?”

“I don’t know, Maggie,” he whispered. Then he shook his head in mute reiteration. “I don’t know about a lot of things any more.”

Maggie’s sobriety was Teturning. She realized that she had never heard Rob admit confusion before. In all the years that they had been together, she had never known him to be uncertain. It gave her hope. She watched and waited, wanting him to say more.

“I feel like …” His eyes searched the air as though looking for words. “… like I’ve been going around a race track at a hundred miles an hour … and I wound up where I started.” He gazed back into the fire. “And no one else was even in the race.”

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She was deeply moved. She knew she’d heard a confession that he would share with no one else in the world.

“Can I help you?” she asked on a trembling breath.

Their eyes met and held.

“I need some time,” he answered.

He slowly approached, kneeling in front of her and gazing directly into her eyes. “I’ve felt so close to you tonight.”

She nodded, raising a hand to touch his cheek gently.

“Can’t we just be like this for a while?” he asked. “Just be close?”

His tenderness was so compelling that she couldn’t help believing that some small step had been taken. “Yes,” she whispered. His lips moved to hers and she came into his arms, their bodies melding into a close, almost desperate embrace. She slid her face onto his shoulder and closed her eyes as if in prayer. She, as much as he, wanted to cherish this closeness. They had two weeks here. She would wait until the end.

“Should we go upstairs?” she whispered.

He nodded and took her hand, leading her up the narrow stairwell to the sleeping loft, where they undressed and slipped beneath the soft brown comforter. The lights from the fire flickered on the rafters above them, and the cassette that played symphony music ran to its finish, leaving just the sound of their breathing as they made love. It was intense and passionate, both swept into a single movement, Maggie whimpering as she felt herself being pulled upward by an overwhelming force to a peak that caused her to cry out and burst into tears. Then she clung to Rob. He stroked her hair, as if to console her.

They fell silent, Maggie watching shadows from the firelight play on the ceiling as Rob slept in her arms.

It was Maggie who heard it first. A faint, barely audible scraping sound coming from the floorboards

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of the porch outside. It stopped; replaced by a rapid thumping, which rose in intensity, then ended abruptly. Feeling Maggie’s body tense, Rob stirred. And the noise came again. It was as rapid as a jackhammer now, a muffled vibration just outside the downstairs door. They sat up and listened to it, their eyes wide with apprehension.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered.

Rob shook his head. “Did you unpack the flashlight?”

“It’s downstairs.”

Rob rose from the bed, wrapped a blanket around himself, and quickly descended the stairwell. He found the flashlight and moved to the door. The sound was increasing in intensity, growing louder and faster with each passing moment. Maggie rose and stood looking down from the loft, her face illuminated by the firelight below, casting shadows that accentuated her fear.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.”

Rob unbolted the door and grabbed the handle. He paused, summoning his courage.

“Don’t open it,” Maggie hissed.

He glanced up at her, then back at the door. He could literally see the loose floorboards vibrating beneath his feet. Then, in a sudden movement, he pulled open the door; his breath sucked in with shock.

“What is it?” Maggie cried.

At Rob’s feet lay a raccoon, face up, convulsing. Its eyes were glazed and froth poured from its mouth, its talons quivered at the end of limbs that shook in every fiber.

Rob looked up at Maggie.

“What is it?” she cried again.

“It’s a …”

“Watch out!” she screamed.

In a sudden blur of fur, the animal spun to its feet and leaped for Rob, latching on to his back.

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“God! God!” Maggie shrieked.

“Jesus!” Rob cried out. He spun and lurched, dancing grotesquely in the firelight, but the animal held firm, sinking its teeth into Rob’s side, its vicious snarl rising above Rob’s cry of pain.

“Rob!”

He managed to rip the blanket off him and the animal fell, dazed for a moment, but quickly focused on Rob and darted after him again. It lunged at Rob’s feet as he sought to escape, catching his knee and clinging tight, sinking its teeth in just below the thigh.

“Oh, God,” Maggie sobbed. “Someone help us!”

“Knife!”

Maggie ran down the stairs as Rob pulled the snarling animal off him, hurling it across the room where it hit a wall and fell with a resounding thud. But it wasn’t finished. Foam and blood poured from its mouth; it focused on Maggie as she raced toward the kitchen.

“No!” Rob screamed. The animal streaked across the room as Maggie ripped open a drawer, knives and forks splattering on the floor around her.

“Watch it!” Rob shouted. Maggie spotted it just in time. She jumped up on the table, the animal smashing into a cabinet beneath her. The raccoon was staggering now, wobbling as it once again searched for a target. Rob shouted at it, trying to get its attention away from Maggie, and the animal turned on him, shooting forward with full fury. Rob ran to a far wall, his body colliding with a canoe paddle that clattered to the floor beside him. As the animal bore down on him, he grabbed the paddle and swung. It caught the raccoon directly in the stomach; a puff of dust rose from the impact, but the raccoon clung hard to the canoe paddle, climbing toward Rob as he swung it around to the fire. Rob smacked it hard against the edge of the stone fireplace and the animal took flight, hurtling directly into the flames.

It went up in a ball of fire. Maggie screamed.

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