“Goodnight, Sunny.” Edna patted my shoulder
and headed in the house.
“Night.” My gaze never left the magnificent
sky, and I took a seat; the glider swayed in the breeze. My mind
wandered back to Gavin. Feeling the cold, crisp air and seeing the
endless stars, I had time to be silent and process the events of
the morning one last time. I must have better control of my
thoughts before I see him again. Remembering the autumn heavens, I
drained my thoughts and concentrated on visualizing a solid sheet
of sky blue. I tried to keep only the color in my mind, but
thoughts kept racing through, and I realized how emotionally
drained I was. I needed to exercise this control like a muscle. If
Gavin weren’t physically attracted to me, the color would serve as
a shield when my thoughts strayed. I hoped it would be easier
tomorrow after I had rested.
The thought of reaching Gavin swam through
the blue. I was alone, no one was watching, what would be the
problem with trying?
Leaning on the old porch rail, I opened my
arms wide. Willing my body to relax, I brought forth everything
about him in my mind’s eye—his perfect face, the incredible smell
of him, his unusually smooth palms, and the sound of his voice. I
concentrated on every delicious thought, marveling at the warmth of
emotions saturating my body and the intensity of it all.
The beauty of the pre-dawn fog entered my
mind. Instinctively, I let my senses ripple the emotions through
the trees, visualizing a wave of thought drifting downward like the
morning mist. The mountain hushed; the night stilled. A whisper of
his tenor caressed my heart—I knew it immediately. He was above the
valley somewhere.
Concentrating on that whisper, I focused as
hard as I could. His image was so sharp in my mind that he could
have been standing on our porch. A translucent hint of my creature
enveloped me, caressing me, and understanding me. Peace ebbed
through every fiber of my being as if to say goodnight. I held on
for a moment, my heart joyfully pounding as the creature’s caress
increased its pressure. Opening my eyes, I searched the stars.
Goodnight, Gavin, wherever you
are
.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 6—The Fall
Festival
Over the next week, my academic education
took a backseat to maintaining the color blue. As I drove to class,
I discovered that trying to physically do a task while keeping your
mind empty was difficult. My concentration waned for a moment, and
Edna’s small frame flashed through. I caught her several times
watching the mountain with sad resignation. It seemed as if
recounting her perfect day brought painful memories to the surface.
Edna had lived a beautiful life after just ten hours with her
Michael. I would have to trust I could do the same.
The teacher droned on about whatever, but I
was so concentrated on controlling my mind it really didn’t matter.
I was proud of myself as I drove home; my focus was better. The
carnival was tomorrow night, and then it was just a few short days
until Friday.
I went upstairs and watered the now four
oversized pots of Carolina lilies laden with blooms under the
windowsill. Slumber gave way to distant images. I strained to focus
… Gavin held my hand as we walked through town. Black clouds
billowed in from the coast. The wind whipped through my hair. A
storm approached, roaring like a fiend. Gavin ran a few paces
ahead, as night fell over the land. The bright moonlight muted to a
purple haze. “Hurry Nora, hurry!” he urged. My muscles burned from
the effort, and Main Street melded into unfamiliar woods. I glanced
back. Slick, obsidian silhouettes, trapped in tar, thrashed and
lunged, growing closer. Fear pounded in my veins; hundreds of
hammering hooves thundered through the forest. Whisper white
screams rejoiced as they anticipated tearing my flesh from the
bone. Black wisps of death lashed at my feet, and I tripped. “No!”
Gavin cried, as he ran back towards me. The onyx bodies bounded on
him, white noise drowning out his plea—and then he was gone.
I woke up with my face screaming into the
pillow. Sweat matted the hair against my neck. The subdued light
filtering through the window told of the sun’s imminent presence;
Edna would be up soon. I got my toiletry basket and went to the
bathroom. The hot shower repressed the dream, and by the time I
made my way downstairs I felt almost normal again.
Sweats on, pail in hand, remembering the
broken hinge from what seemed a lifetime ago, I hiked across the
meadow to the barn. The beauty of the fog brought back memories of
my new nightly ritual, and I blushed.
Chickens fed, and pail now full of warm milk,
I walked back toward the house. Seven painted buntings stood side
by side on the railing of the back stoop. I approached them slowly;
the vibrant orange that ringed their intelligent eyes told they
tracked my movements. They waited until the back door opened before
flying away. Edna sat on the window seat, flowered mug in hand.
“Mornin, Ed … Do you have any idea what’s up
with those birds?”
“It is odd, isn’t it?” she agreed. “When I
was your age, I always thought they were watching me … used to give
me the heebie jeebies.” She snickered at her colorful language.
Getting a bowl from the cupboard, I had to
smile. That was about as colorful as Edna got.
“Do you think memories exaggerate over
time?”
“Not when they’re stamped,” Edna said. My
brow wrinkled; she smiled.
“Like your Gavin and my Michael. They’re
different than any other memory. I shouldn’t speak for you, dear,
but I know that look.” She winked and patted my hand. “I remember
my Michael as if he is standing right here. I can see every hair on
his head, his smooth skin, everything about him.”
Mulling over her words, I discovered she was
right. I tried to picture everyone else I had ever known. They were
clear, but it was as if they were being seen through a filter. When
I saw Gavin, I could see every minuscule detail, the pattern in his
irises, the way his ears delicately curved. It was a relief to know
I would never lose his beautiful face, not even after sixty years.
Edna’s watchful eyes brought me out of my musings, and I picked up
my backpack.
“I’ll be back to get you for the festival. Do
you need to go in early?”
“Actually, Rose is picking me up for lunch.
We’re going to set up, and then she’s bringing me home. I’m a bit
under the weather, and it’s supposed to be chilly tonight.”
“Maybe I should skip class and take you to
see Dr. Gene. It’s too early for flu season, but you do look pale.”
I felt her forehead and she smiled.
“I’m fit as a fiddle; it’s just age,
Sunshine. Don’t worry your pretty little head about me.” She shooed
me out the door.
Makeshift carnival lights of old Christmas
bulbs ran in rows down Bakers Alley. The large field at the end of
the street was wedged between the church and the forest. This year,
the deacons went all out and rented several rides from a small
traveling carnival.
I headed off to the Tilt-a-Whirl. If Kate and
Hol were here, they’d be ready to jump line. Me, I wasn’t brave
enough to ride the thing … it looked old enough to be the original.
The owner assured Judge Alan that all of the rides had passed
inspected by the state. Still, I couldn’t help the small twinge of
fear as I watched children pile in, eager for one more turn. Gray
clouds billowed, filtering the bright moon’s light.
“Have you seen Sophie?” Mrs. Brown startled
me.
“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere,” I
smiled reassuringly. Sophie was Mrs. Brown’s granddaughter and was
a regular in my Sunday school. It wasn’t in her nature to just
wander off.
“Kathy’s been looking for her for twenty
minutes … she was next to her at the petting zoo, and then she was
gone.” Her voice rose in alarm, as her eyes stayed focused on the
sea of people now lined up in queue for tickets.
“I’ll help look.”
“I’d appreciate it … I’m worried sick.” She
rung her hands and fruitlessly searched the line again. A bunting
swooped overhead and flew into the forest.
Calliope whistles cheerfully blew as the
antique merry-go-round turned. I stood at the exit watching the
painted ponies slowly move up and down, unsuccessfully searching
for messy brown ringlets and bright blue eyes.
The crowd grew, and I quickened my step. She
wasn’t where the games were … that only left the church, but the
tall windows looked as if they had been dipped in ink against the
stark white siding.
Maybe she never left the petting zoo. I
smiled as that thought crossed my mind. She probably wandered off
just far enough from sight. There were several enclosures—perfect
places for hiding spots. The baby animals had been strategically
placed at the fringe of the forest, down wind from the carnival.
Generators hummed, keeping the floodlights pouring over the back
east corner. I walked through, searching to no avail.
The hair on the back of my neck stood in
defense as I focused west, just past the light’s grasp. Moonbeams
filtered through the gray clouds; a black streak wove through the
underbrush.
“Sophie?” I hollered, as I headed into the
darkness. “Is that you?”
The air became heavy. I glanced back,
surprised by the distant flicker of colored bulbs. Adrenaline
rushed, and my heart found its way to my throat as my senses
heightened. I’d never been scared of the dark, but I now had a
deeper understanding of the world—and there was definitely
something unnatural about this night. I stepped into the forest
wall, straining to look through the darkness. The stench of rancid
dirt clung to the stagnant air; a shiver ran down my spine. Leaves
shuffled to the left, and white noise moved in stereo back to the
right. Gray clouds smothered the moonlight. The distant sounds of
the calliope suddenly muffled and slid out of pitch, as if the
batteries were running low. A black figure darted through the
trees. Panicked, I backed away from the forest and sprinted towards
the zoo.
The lights flickered and then went off.
Assurances rang out among the squeals of surprise as the carnival
froze in darkness. I couldn’t see an inch in front of my face. My
heart hammered in my chest as I blindly ran forward. The toe of my
sneaker found a root, and I tumbled. Pain shot through my elbow as
the sharp edge of a rock pierced just below the bone. I grimaced,
feeling warm blood trickle down my arm. Physical pain broke the icy
terror gripping my heart, and determination flamed through me. This
new instinct screamed that Sophie was out there and she needed me.
As the moonlight once again washed over the field, I marched back
toward the west. A large hand wrapped around my injured elbow,
stopping my progress. Heat radiated up my arm. Familiar warmth
nudged my heart.
“Gavin?”
He pulled me back to his chest and wrapped
his other arm around my waist. The determination recklessly ruling
my actions was replaced with a calm assurance.
“Wait,” he quietly commanded, his voice close
to my ear.
“Please … If Sophie’s out there, she’s lost
and all alone … and I think I saw a black panther or something … I
know that sounds crazy, it’s only a myth … but there was definitely
something out there.” I started toward the trees once more, but his
grip stayed firm.
The lights flickered in the distance, and the
hum of the generators echoed off the forest wall. The calliope
ramped back up, and Judge Alan’s voice echoed over the loudspeaker
that they had fixed the breaker.
“I believe I see something,” Gavin pointed to
the right. A small bright pink shirt stumbled out from the
underbrush.
“Sophie, honey, is that you?” I shouted as
she ran towards me.
“Ms. Nora!” She squealed. Gavin let go, and
Sophie wrapped her small arms around my neck. I exhaled in relief,
hugging her back. Her entire body shook.
“What on earth were you doing out there?”
“I followed a shadow.” She explained. Fear
ran through me like a knife.
“What shadow? You could have been hurt.”
“It smiled at me. It had one of the baby
sheep. I was scared.” Her eyes grew wide with fear, and her arms
held tight as she wrapped her legs around my waist. I squeezed her
to my chest and she stopped trembling.
“Please don’t do that again.” I softly
demanded. Gavin helped me up, and I stood with Sophie firmly in
place.
“Do you know where the shadow went?” Gavin
asked. My heart skipped a beat. She searched his expression, and a
smile lit her freckled face. Gavin smiled back, and she pointed her
dimpled finger toward the dark corner.
“My friend chased him away.” Her little voice
quivered.
“What friend?” I asked, now alarmed.
“I call her Molly. She is gray and has
horsie’s feet and black feathers for hair.” Her chin rested on my
shoulder. I tried to pull away so I could see her expression, but
her grip tightened. Gavin’s hand on my back urgently nudged me, and
we picked up the pace, heading back toward the fairground.
“Have you ever seen her before? I didn’t get
to say thank you.” I coaxed, glancing back toward the forest.
“No … Is mamma mad?”
I smiled. “I’m sure she’s just worried. We’d
better get you back.”
“Don’t let me go.” She pleaded, as she
started trembling again.
“I promise, I won’t.” I whispered in her
ear.
Sophie’s innocent eyes stared at Gavin.
“Thank you for chasing the other shadow away.” Gavin tensed; alarm
pounded through me.
“Gavin, what is she talking about?” We
stopped by the painted horses; he looked back to the field as
Sophie explained.
“The pretty man and his friends were chasing
the other shadows when Molly galloped down the mountain. The one
with the baby sheep ran away. Molly told me never to go with a
shadow, and that the Nora was looking for me. She picked me up and
ran really, really, really fast, and then she let me go and pointed
to you.” Panic surged, taking my breath, and I searched Gavin’s
round eyes.