Falla, I’m going to run over to Alethia’s house for a little while. It’s still standing, but it probably won’t last the war. I’m going to get some things that are precious to her—pictures and so forth. I don’t want Priscilla to come with me; it might be dangerous. Would you stay with her? Tell her I’m sad about my sister and I want to be alone the rest of today and tonight. I’ll be back in the morning. I don’t want to chance coming back after dark.”
Falla looked at her with concern. “Nothing is as precious to Alethia as you, Sally Beth. It is foolhardy to go.”
“Maybe, but I really do want to be alone tonight. Please. I promise to be careful. Just do this for me, okay?”
Falla nodded. Sally Beth hated to tell the half-lie, but her life had turned into a lie of sorts anyway. Everything that she had learned her whole life—that life was good, that people were good, that God protects and guides—all those were lies to her. What was one more little lie now so she could find a moment of comfort and pleasure in John’s arms? She packed a bag, fumbled around for the keys to Alethia’s van, and left without another word.
It was hard going. There was almost nothing left of the road, and Sally Beth was glad she would not have to go over the river, for the bridge was precarious, although still standing. She made her way slowly around the holes, the abandoned, burned-out vehicles, and, to her horror, the decaying bodies of animals and humans scattered across the landscape. She knew she was looking at the aftermath of evil, at the very thing hell was made of and almost chuckled to herself as she remembered thinking that the desert outside Las Vegas was what hell was like. She would have given her hands to be in that desert with Lilly right now.
She drove on resolutely, meeting no one, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof, the windshield wipers swishing. The radio offered nothing but static. The world was on hold while evil roved the land. Only the rain offered a small piece of grace to her troubled soul.
The clouds cleared away as she drove through the red mud up to Alethia’s house; it stood, untouched in a bright shaft of afternoon sunlight, a beacon of homeliness adrift in a sea of horror. Sally Beth parked the van close to the porch, mounted the stairs, and unlocked the front door, walking into the same sweet, cluttered room strewn with toys and bright clothing that she had left just a couple of weeks ago. The treadle sewing machine still sat on the dining table. A little blue and white dress lay draped over a chair, waiting to be hemmed.
There was no electricity, so she set about looking for candles and lanterns, and after she found them, she took a flashlight and went down to the basement, where she found the stash of fabric that matched the flowered curtains, slipcovers, and dresses upstairs. Alethia had not been exaggerating; there were at least a thousand yards wound onto scores of bolts. She took several of them up the stairs, found the scissors and thread, and sat down at the table.
Taking two bolts of cloth, she unwound them, then set to work sewing them together. When she had run a seam about fifty feet long, she cut the fabric, and then, starting at the top, began another seam parallel to the other. She did not stop after she had sewn up a fifty-foot square blanket, but went to work on another, smaller one. Finally, after an hour of sewing, she clipped the thread, took the smaller blanket outside and draped it over the van. From where she stood, it looked just like what it was, a big swath of colored fabric draped over a vehicle, but she hoped that in the dark, it would simply look like trees or bushes bedecked with blue, red, and yellow flowers.
Next, she went around back, slipped through the weedy garden, and retrieved tomatoes, cucumbers, and yams. Mangoes from the tree in the side yard were plentiful and ripe. Back inside, she rummaged through the pantry, whipped up a simple cake to put in the gas oven, and put beans on to cook.
Finally, she ran water in the bathtub, grateful for the gas water heater, then sank into the tub and waited until the sun began to settle in the west.
This would be something of a wedding night. She realized how pitifully adolescent the thought was. John did not love her, although she was certain she loved him. She was not naïve enough to believe that somehow he would be so smitten with her feminine wiles that he would fall madly in love with her. No, she knew that her plea for him to make love to her was the pathetic begging of a desperately lonely woman who could not see beyond the pain she had been facing for the last—how many days? It seemed like years. It seemed that the peace and love she had known as a child was only a vague, pleasant dream of the past. Now she knew that reality was brutal, and if she wanted any joy, she would have to grab it whenever she found the opportunity, even if it meant finding a man who could only pretend to care for her, and even then, reluctantly. She didn’t care. Her love for John was the only light she had right now, and she needed him to show her that beauty was possible, even in the midst of horror.
She shaved her legs, washed, and dragged herself out of the tub wearily, then dressed in a clean summer dress, not bothering with underwear. She went downstairs to wait for the man who could, for a moment perhaps, make her forget about what life had become.
John arrived just before dusk, at that time of day photographers call the “magic hour,” when light becomes alive, delightedly exploring secret corners, mischievously dashing away shadows that had tucked themselves away. Sally Beth put on her shoes, and out of habit, her pink princess cowboy hat, and went out to meet him, her arms full of the cheerful meadow she had stitched together earlier.
He was filled with dread as he approached the field beside Alethia’s house, but when he saw her waiting for him draped in what looked like a huge colorful tent, he found himself forgetting his own fear, and instead felt a rush of delight. As usual, Sally Beth managed to look both beautiful and absurd, her arms full of fabric that not only mounded up to her head, but also dragged in a long trail behind her. Above that was her lovely face, her gleaming hair spread out over her shoulders, and topping that, the ridiculous pink hat, the rhinestone princess crown winking in the sun. He felt little bubbles of happiness float through his being, battling their way through the trepidation that had lived there all day.
“I made a present for your plane,” she said, hefting the enormous bundle into his arms. “I think it’s big enough to cover it, and we can weigh the edges down with rocks.” He took the weight of it, and then felt a little shock going through him when he saw what she was wearing. A thin pink linen dress clung to her, and the sunlight streamed straight through it so that she seemed to be clothed in nothing but a pale pink glow. He averted his eyes, looking closely at what she had given him.
“Ah, it’s a camouflage tent!” he exclaimed. “Brilliant, Sally Beth. Let’s get this over her and see how she looks.”
Together, they managed to drape the huge blanket over the plane, and when they stepped back, they both laughed at how silly it looked—like a giant child hiding under a blanket, pretending to be invisible. But when he squinted, he could see that from a distance, or at night, it just might work. Once the light failed, it very well could look like a flowery meadow or a forest of blooming trees. He shrugged. “Better than I could have done.” Then he took her hand and walked back toward the house.
“I have a little supper,” she said cautiously, then glanced down at herself and blushed violently. She had not realized how thin the dress was, or how the brightness of the sun would reduce it to merely a mist over her nakedness. As quickly as she could, she went to Alethia’s closet and pulled out a drab robe. John pretended not to notice, but fumbled into the kitchen, saying, “My, this smells good. Did you bake a cake?”
“Yes. Dinner will be ready in five or ten minutes, just as soon as this cornbread is done.”
“Good. I’m starved. Could I take a shower before dinner? I’m filthy.”
“Of course.” She blushed again and looked away.
He showered quickly, dressed himself in the clean clothes he had brought with him, and returned to find the table set with candles and a vase of flowers. “Beautiful,” he said, meaning the flowers, but looking at her, and then the conversation faltered. They tried starting it up again several times over supper, but it was fraught with false starts and awkward stammerings, followed by long periods of silence while they toyed with their food.
Dusk settled gently around them, as softly as their silence, and they both fought with the apprehensions fluttering through the shadows of their souls. At last he stood. “Let’s go see how the disguise looks.”
Together they walked to the porch. To their surprise, the plane had seemed to disappear, melding into the shadows as completely as a mist flitting among the trees. “Sally Beth, you are a genius,” he chuckled, and she laughed, too. In her laughter, he could hear the echoes of happiness. Only the echoes, but even so, the sound of it lightened his heart. He took her shoulders and turned her to him.
“Sally Beth, we don’t have to do this. I can just hold you tonight like I did last night. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret.”
In response, she moved closer to him, put her arms around him, and kissed him with all the love she had to offer.
Her mouth tasted like honey and mangoes, and her touch sent tendrils of fire flashing throughout his whole being. He had prepared himself to be completely in control, to be the best lover he could be for her, but this kiss and his sudden desire sent him spiraling along a path he had not anticipated, a delicious, beckoning path that made him want to fling aside all his constraints and go running down it. Sliding his hands down her back and resting them at the base of her spine, he felt how small her waist was, how her flesh swelled out behind and to the sides in such firm plumpness that he wanted to rub the curves and marvel at their smoothness.
He remembered his task. This was about her. “Does Alethia have any records or music tapes or anything?” He laughed nervously. “Something other than church music, I hope.”
Sally Beth broke from him, went inside, and returned with a battery-powered boom box, in which she had already placed a tape of The Righteous Brothers, and started the music. Then she fell into his arms, and together they moved to the music of “Unchained Melody.”
The clouds had blown away, revealing a clear, black sky so filled with stars that it glowed sliver. A tiny sliver of a moon rose over their heads, the merest hint of light that was dwarfed by the majesty of the Milky Way. They danced in the billowing grass, and the more the music drifted into their hearts and minds, the more they both felt that this moment was right, that they should be here together, under the glowing sky, in the quiet of the music, feeling the rhythms of each other’s bodies. John felt a shudder run through him. This was not supposed to happen, but he did not care. Sally Beth was in his arms, and nothing before had ever felt so perfect.
Sally Beth felt nothing but love. Her heart had melted the moment her lips had touched his, and all she wanted was more of him. She even found herself thanking God for bringing him here, although when she remembered that He would surely frown on what they did this night, she still felt grateful for the gift of love, for the gift of desire, of young bodies that could respond like this even in the face of danger and horror and death. She pushed that thought from her mind. For tonight, she would not think about it. She would only let herself feel the fireworks spiraling inside her, the warmth of John’s body as he moved with her and with the music.
He had planned what he would do. He had told himself that he would keep himself aloof so that he could concentrate solely on her pleasure. He had not had high hopes about that: he had been with a virgin once before, when he was inexperienced, too, and it had ended in disaster—pain, tears and regret. Knowing Sally Beth’s strong moral code, he feared the same from her tonight, when she remembered how cold his heart was.
But he forgot to be aloof; he forgot he could not love her, and he felt himself falling, as if from a great height, into a well of peace and happiness, into a pool of warm desire. As soon as the last notes of the last song faded away, Sally Beth took his hand and led him into the downstairs bedroom, where she gently pushed him onto the bed, then eased herself beside him, pressed herself against him, and kissed him with such passion that he had to keep telling himself that he must be slow and careful. He peeled off the robe, then the summery dress, and he felt his breath quicken when he saw the snowy perfection of her body.
After that, he forgot everything except that a beautiful woman—no, not just any woman—Sally Beth, a woman whose heart was as beautiful as her body, who loved him, who wanted him, was in his arms, and she was kissing him with such yearning he could not stop his own desire blooming through his heated blood. The perfume of her clean skin mixed with her own feminine smell, the freshness of her innocence mingled with her longing for him, the taste of her flesh—oranges and honey—all these things rose up in a heady mix, and he felt himself falling into an abyss of sweet yearning. He felt the hammering of her heart, and then realized that his own matched it, beat for beat, and he lost himself in the bliss of their touching.
She could not believe how beautiful this felt, this unbearable sweetness suffusing her body, the waves of feeling building and crashing over her that made her cry out with the unbearable pleasure of it. The perfection of his touch, the way he made her grow and blossom, made her want so much to give herself to him, to be a part of him, to connect on every level. She gasped, then breathed out with a cry, “Oh yes! Oh please, John!”
He nearly wept with joy, knowing not only that he had pleased her, but that she so unabashedly gave into her pleasure without inhibitions or restraint. Dizzy with desire, he almost could not think, but then, remembering that he had promised himself to ask her once again if she was certain this was what she wanted, he pushed back for a moment, hope of her assurance surging through his heated blood. He could not believe how much he wanted her, how much he needed her, how he ached for her. He drew breath to ask, looking into her eyes, large and luminous. They gazed back at him with naked adoration, then she blinked and said simply and clearly, “John, I love you.”
Shock ran through him, and all manner of alarms rang in his head as he felt the sudden weight of his responsibility, heavy as a building leaning on him. He held her love, all of it, fragile, beautiful, in his hands, and he was stunned to realize that he was not worthy of it. Taking a sharp breath, he hesitated, floundering, and before he could recover, a tremendous KABOOM! resonated all around him, shaking the house and rattling the window panes. They both sat up, disoriented, still in the grips of their passion. Another blast broke through the haze, and they knew the war had come to them. They both jumped up, throwing on clothing with trembling hands. Sally Beth cast aside the summery dress, jumping into the jeans and shirt she had worn earlier.
John did not have a gun with him; there were two in the plane, but he knew they would not be able to make it to the plane and be aloft in time, even if he unloaded both of them into the enemy. They ran to the window as they dressed and looked out into the ravaged night.
Soldiers were just to the north of them, perhaps half a mile away, over a line of trees, sending rocket grenades toward a target they could not see. Nor could they see the soldiers, only the flaming rockets and the fires they started as they landed.
“We can’t chance taking the plane. They’ll see us. We’ll have to try to get away in the van,” he said, wondering if he should take the time to run to retrieve his guns. She was already out the door, yanking the blanket off the van, and had leapt into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The firefight seemed to be growing closer and louder, and he decided not to take the chance to go for the pistols, but jumped into the passenger seat as Sally Beth gunned the engine and careened away. She drove like a demon, sobbing into the steering wheel, “Oh, Prissy!”