The door swung open. 'Good,' she said briskly. 'I've been waiting for you.'
The wind had picked up again, and the rain had come back, a dull monotonous drizzle. Freirs roused himself and looked at his watch. Though it looked like early evening, it was just after two; Sarr would be leaving soon. He forced himself to his feet and hurried toward the house. Halfway there, shielding himself against the rain, he came to a bare patch in the yard and saw tire tracks filling with water. Shit! he thought. I’ll bet he left without me. He looked back to where the barn stood. There was no sign of the truck, but perhaps it was hidden inside. Rather than run all the way back, he continued up the walk to the house.
The kitchen was deserted. 'Sarr?' he called.
'Gone.'
The voice was hoarse, nearly inaudible. It had come from the bathroom, just off the kitchen. The door stood partly open, outlined in light from within.
'Deborah?' He drew closer. 'Sarr left already?'
'Yes.'
Freirs stopped awkwardly several feet away. Through the crack in the door he could see a little slice of bathroom. It looked steamy in the lantern light.
'Jeremy?' Her voice was softer now.
'What is it?'
'Come here, Jeremy.' He didn't move. 'I have something to tell you.'
Slowly he pushed the door open. The room inside was misty; warm moist air bathed his face, smelling of rose-scented soap.
She was lying back in the tub with just her head above the surface of the water. Through swirls of steam his darting glance took in the pale pink length of her body, the dark nipples of her breasts blurred beneath the soapsuds, the widening dark shadow where the black hair curled between her legs.
She lay content beneath his gaze. 'Do you remember,' she said, after a pause, 'how you offered to scrub my back?'
'Yes.' He stood hesitantly in the doorway, wondering if he dared take a step closer.
'And do you remember what I said?'
'Uh, I'm not sure. Something about "some other time." '
She nodded, half smiling. 'Some other time when my husband wasn't here.'
'Uh-huh.' He swallowed nervously.
'He's not here now.'
Slowly she began sitting up. Her shoulders rose above the surface, milky water lapping at the tops of her breasts. Soon, unsupported, they hung heavy and full, water dripping from them, while her glistening black hair fell wetly down her shoulders like a shawl.
She was seated upright now, the water about her waist like a nightgown she'd sloughed off; and still she continued to rise, tucking her legs beneath her and getting to her feet.
'Come on, Jeremy,' she said, standing before him. 'You're just the one I need.'
Rain pounded against the cottage's stone walls and rattled the windows of the parlor. Inside, in the dim light, listening to his mother's words, the farmer felt a chill. The woman seemed farther away than ever. The room, like the entire house, was hers alone and held no place for him. It was the refuge of her widowhood; she'd moved in while he'd been away. He had visited her here many times since his return, but he always felt like a stranger.
'You've come to find out about Deborah,' she was saying. 'You feel a change in her. A distance.'
He nodded, too old to be surprised by the woman's ability to read his mind.
But he was surprised by what she told him.
She told him of virgins and dragons and Dhols, of the rarity of months with two full moons, and of an old man who, if he got his way, would bring this green spinning world to an end. She contradicted everything he'd ever known, and swore to things that couldn't be. He didn't believe a word she said -and yet he trembled.
She showed him the Pictures, and told him where they came from, and his horror grew; for he recognized the figures from the Dynnod, and wondered if they might somehow be real. He sensed things pressing in on him, and knew his life would never be the same.
And when she was done she told him, 'Remember, come to me when your visitors arrive. Come to me in secret that night. And bring the virgin with you.' She leaned toward him, eyes glittering; talonlike fingers gripped his arm. 'That's the most important thing, son. You mustn't forget to bring her. The Lord and I will see to the rest.'
Suddenly she cocked her head and looked toward the rain-smeared window. When she turned back to him, her expression had changed.
'Go now,' she said. Her voice held a new urgency. 'Go and speed home, if you want to prevent a drowning.'
She hurried him out the door, not even saying goodbye.
… And I'd have climbed right in there with her, if Sarr hadn't come driving up the road just then, truck wheels splashing through the puddles. I dashed from the room like a thief, cursing my own stupidity; if he'd found us together I swear he's the kind who'd have killed us both. I fled to the living room amp; snatched up the first thing I came across, that book of inspirational poems I'd been reading from, so that by the time he'd put the truck away in the barn amp; came running through the rain back to the house, I was sitting in the rocking chair with his book on my lap, open to the dryest-looking Milton I could find. I was still nervous as he came in – 1 could feel my heart pounding – but I don't think his mind was on me.
'Where's Deborah?' he said, looking very troubled.
'I'm not sure,' I said vaguely. 'She may be in the bathroom.'
He stood there for a minute, not saying anything, and eventually settled himself on the stool. Only then did he seem to notice me. He cleared his throat a couple of times, as if there were something he was dying to ask but afraid to. Finally he said, 'Jeremy, I don't want to seem like prying, amp; you don't have to answer this, but-' And I thought, Oh, Jesus, I'm in for it now, he suspects! But then, of all things, he asked his question: was Carol still a virgin?
That really caught me by surprise. 'I don't know,' I think I said. 'I doubt it. She's obviously not very experienced – she's a good Catholic amp; all – but she's an attractive girl, amp; I'd assume that somewhere along the line she's had a guy or two.' He looked skeptical. 'If you're asking whether I've ever slept with her,' I added, 'the answer's no, I haven't.'
I would have thought that was what he'd want to hear; I assumed he was asking because, with Carol coming for another visit the day after tomorrow amp; probably staying again under his roof, he wanted to be certain she was pure. But instead of looking cheerful, he looked even more troubled. I asked him what the matter was, but he said he'd explain it all this weekend.
Sausage amp; rice for dinner tonight, both courtesy of the Go-op. String beans from a can amp; powdered milk for our coffee: what's the world coming to? Deborah as cool as can be – didn't look at me once, just concentrated on dishing out the food and smiling at Sarr- but he wasn't having any of it. He just kept staring at her, saying nothing. I got very uncomfortable by the end, certain he suspected. Hope he's not giving Deborah hell tonight.
Back here after dinner, escaping as fast as I could. Should be cleaning this place up before Carol amp; Rosie get here, but with this drizzle amp; the sudden, lonely wind, I somehow have little energy for anything but reading; even keeping up this journal seems a chore. Tomorrow I've got to clip that ivy; it's beginning to cover the windows again, amp; the mildew's been climbing steadily up the walls. It's like I'm sinking into a pool of dark-green water.
Odd that I'm so tired, esp. considering that between getting up late amp; my afternoon nap, I must have slept half the day. Alas, old amp; worn out at thirty!
At least tonight it's quiet in the woods.
He is back in his apartment, the shades drawn and his umbrella drying in the tub, when it comes to him that the man is still alive. Something has interfered.