Tears of laughter ran down our cheeks.
Rosie wiped her eyes with a Kleenex and said, “I bet that was a surprise!”
“I’m sure it was–for both of them.”
“I can’t believe Daisy would even consider taking him back. Especially when it isn’t the first time he’s done something like that. That man has had more than his fair share of extracurricular activity.”
“And, who knows what he’s been up to that we don’t know about.”
“One could only hazard a guess.”
“And, I’m sure it won’t be the last. But, Daisy said she still loves him.”
“Some people never learn no matter how many times you hit them over the head with a frying pan.”
“Do you think this will cure our over-the-hill Romeo?”
“I doubt it,” Rosie said. “I don’t think Peter Pan will ever grow up.”
“Being his third wife you’d think would have been a clue when she first met him.”
“Apparently not.”
“And, you’d think that while he was in this part of the world he’d get in touch with his baby sister,” I said.
“You think?”
“You don’t?”
“Not hardly. He didn’t feel the need to contact me when he spent a couple of months in Hawaii chasing waves and skirts. Then, when the young guns started calling him, old man, he decided to move on. So, I doubt that he’d bother now.”
“Then he bummed around Thailand and ended up on some remote island where living was cheap,” I said.
“That was where he met Daisy,” she reminded me. “Six months later they were married and moved back to Australia.”
“I always said she was too good for him.” Daisy, a delightful young woman from Perth, was working at a resort hotel on the island of Ko Samui when Peter met her. “And now that he makes customized surfboards for professional surfers around the world you’d think he’d get his act together and settle down.”
Rosie sighed. “Do you think Peter Pan will ever grow up?”
I knew it was a rhetorical question but I answered just the same. “I doubt it. He’ll just keep searching for Never, Never Land, hoping one day to find his lost childhood where Wendy would be waiting for him in the guise of a twenty-year-old Elle Macpherson look-a-like.”
“Can we just get back to the story of true love?”
“As opposed to…?”
“As opposed to Peter Pan’s adventures in Noddy Land where he thinks fairytales really do come true.”
I bumped her with my shoulder, and grinned. “You just want to hear all those naughty bits.”
“At least we’re having more fun than he is.”
*****
“What’s the matter, Nic?”
“Do you think that car is following us?”
“What car?” Danny glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw nothing but empty bitumen behind them. He was about to say something when he noticed a dark green sedan come over the rise.
Danny nodded at the image in the mirror, and said, “Is that the car?”
Nicola turned around and looked out the back window.
“Yes, that looks like the one.”
“What makes you think it’s following us?”
“I noticed it just after we left New Hope. I tried several times to get a look at the driver, but, it never got close enough.”
Danny watched the car in the mirror. “Have you seen it before?”
“No. But it could have been following us for some time and I hadn’t noticed.”
“…And, nothing before this…?”
Nicola shook her head.
“No. Well… no. Not a green car.”
Danny looked at her. “What do you mean–not a green car?”
“A couple of times I thought we were being followed but there was nothing I could put my finger on. It was more an impression than anything else.” Nicola began to feel foolish.
Danny’s radar went up. “What cars?”
“Well… different cars. For a couple of days I thought we were being followed by a dark gray SUV. Then there was a little blue Honda that kept popping up. Everywhere we went it seemed to be there. But neither of them got close enough for me to check the plates or see the driver.” Nicola shrugged. “I’m probably just being foolish.”
Danny rubbed his hand over his chin and checked the mirror, again.
“Let’s pull off the road and see what happens.” He eased his foot off the accelerator and pulled onto a gravel verge locals used as a turn-out, picked up the road map and pretended to study it. As the green Toyota sailed past Danny looked up and saw a blond-haired man wearing dark glasses staring straight ahead taking no notice of them whatsoever. The driver made no attempt to slow down or stop. They watched until the green sedan disappeared around a bend a mile further on.
Danny shrugged. “It was probably just one of the locals.”
“I’m sorry, Danny you must think I’m being silly, again.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “More like a case of an overactive imagination.”
The evening shadows crept over the land as the dying sun threw off golden rays like glittering swords. Danny pulled the SUV into the parking lot of the Easton Inn on South 3rd Street, and cut the engine.
* * *
“Sara!”
He watched as she ran down the beach and disappeared in the mist that swirled along the shore, her laughter taunting him to follow. He wanted to go to her but knew that he couldn’t, so he stood on the headland hoping for one last glimpse before the tide came to claim her.
“Sara! Don’t leave me,” he cried.
Danny’s eyes flew open. His heart was pounding. His hands were clenched in fists so tight the nails dug deep into the flesh. The colors in the picture on the wall seemed to merge together…, and move…, like a giant wave in a sea of purple.
He closed his eyes. God, make it stop.
He slipped out of bed to the large open window and tried to shake off the feeling of dread as he stared out at the black starless sky, and searched for shadows in the deserted streets below.
Desolation dug deep into his soul as he leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and tried to convince himself the dream was in the past–part of a decaying nightmare he mustn’t give power to. He wrapped his arms around his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to block out the sound of carrion birds he knew were out there, somewhere, waiting for him.
As the soft gray dawn crept over the landscape a harsh wind came up and brought storm clouds in from the west. Suddenly a loud clap of thunder resonated across the valley as jagged streaks of white lightning forged cracks in the sky. In the distance the lonely sound of a freight train whistle could be heard as it wound its way through the once thriving industrial towns and crossed over the river...
*****
“Who’s Sara?”
“Huh?”
“Sara? Who is she?”
I waved my hand dismissively without looking up. “Just an old girlfriend of Danny’s.”
“Well, there must be something about her that’s upsetting Danny is he’s having these nightmares.”
I sighed, loudly, hoping she would take the hint and quit with the questions. “I haven’t decided yet.
Rosie harrumphed. “Is she another one of those coincidental characters you keep slipping in like that man in the park?”
“Something like that.”
“Well, when are you going to let me in on the secret?”
“You’ll just have to wait until the book comes out in hardcover.”
“Hardcover! I could never afford that.”
“Then I guess you’ll just have to wait until the paperback version appears on the shelves of bookstores across the land.
*****
He woke to the sound of large raindrop hitting the window. His was heart hammering hard in his chest. His breath was coming in short sharp gasps, as though he’d been running. He stared at the ceili
ng and tried to figure out where he was. Then he slipped out of bed and wandered over to the window. When he drew back the drapes he saw the sky was the color of gunmetal–all gray and splotchy and uninviting. He looked at Nicola curled up in bed, the sheet molded to her hip, her thigh, her eyes shut tight against the glare of early morning light, the tops of her breasts exposed.
He crawled back into bed and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her near.
“Looks like the bad weather has set in for the day,” he said and kissed her. He could feel the flutter of her heart in her throat, her feathery breath on his face, the warm invitation of her lips, her welcoming thighs as she molded her body into his.
“Oh, Nicci,” he whispered, “I never dreamt I could feel like this again.”
When she looked in his eyes she saw a sadness she had never seen there before.
“Who was she, Danny? Who broke your heart?”
“We were going to be married.”
“What happened? Did she leave?”
He shook his head sadly.
“She died.”
SEVENTEEN
When we entered the room, we noticed a couple of women we’d met when Rosie was being fitted for the mold that protected healthy tissue from radiation damage, sitting close to the doorway.
Big boned is probably how Chartreuse and Louanna would describe themselves, but broad of beam and wide of girth comes more readily to mind. Back home, in Australia, we’d say two axe handles wide, but in their case four axe handles would probably be closer to the mark.
The women were twins and did everything together–including marrying twin brothers–and were the proudest parents you would ever meet.
I smiled. “Hi girls, it’s good to see you both again.”
“Well, how you girls doin’?” Louanna asked.
“We’re doing pretty good, Louanna. How about you?” Rosie asked.
“We’s been doin’ real good, Hon.”
Rosie smiled at Chartreuse. “Are you starting your treatment today?”
Chartreuse nodded. “We’s bin coming for a while now, Hon, but we was on ‘nother time. But the hospital rang last night and said we was to come at this time, today.”
I gave Chartreuse a friendly pat on the knee, and said, “Well, I hope they keep you on this time schedule. We’ve missed you both, haven’t we, Hon?”
“We sure have. How are those boys of yours doing, Louanna?” Rosie asked. Between them the sisters have seven boys and six girls, of similar ages–but no twins, which is unusual because twins usually run in families.
“I don’t have to tell you, Hon, you know what boys is like. They’s out there wreaking havoc ‘n’ destruction on the rest of us,” Louanna said, grinning.
“No, you certainly do not. Boys sure are a handful,” Rosie agreed.
“Ain’t dat du truf.”
“And the girls?” I asked.
“Girls, is even worse,” Chartreuse said, shaking her head.
“Yeah, girls is worse,” Louanna agreed.
“Girls are worse than a mess o’ snakes in a pit full of crocodiles,” I said knowingly.
Louanna bobbed her head up and down. “You sho got dat right, Bee,” she said.
I noticed Louanna had a new ‘do. It was cut in a strange way with a part down the side. One half stuck out sideways, as stiff as a board, across the top of her head while the other was crimped and plastered to the other side of her head with what looked like floor varnish.
“You’ve had your hair done, Louanna. It sure looks good,” I said.
Louanna stood up and twirled around. “You like it?”
“I sure do. I’ve never seen anyone with a ‘do quite like that before,” Rosie said.
“Chartreuse done it for me.”
“Well, she did a good job.”
“Shame you white girls got such terrible hair, oth’wise I could do a special ‘do for you. But your hair hain’t no good for this here fancy stuff,” Chartreuse said, not unkindly.
I smiled. “Yes, it is a shame. But I do appreciate the gesture thank you, Chartreuse.”
Suddenly both women waved their hands in the air in an effort to draw our attention.
“Whachoo think of our nails?” Chartreuse asked.
The inch long acrylics were covered in such bright iridescent colors they made my teeth hurt. The sensation reminded me of fingernails scratching across a blackboard.
“Gotta get me some of those,” I said enthusiastically. “What do you think, Hon?”
“Oh, definitely!”
“Lil Chinese girl done a special deal fo’ us,” Louanna said proudly. I could see why. The colors were so dense and bright it looked like she’d used automobile duco.
“She haint Chinese,” Chartreuse corrected her sister. “She Japanese.”
Louanna put her hands on her hips, jiggled her body, and said, “What’s wrong witchoo, woman. That little bitty wisp of a girl is Chinese!”
“I swear you gotta git yourself some of them there eye glasses, Louanna, honey, ‘cause you is goin’ blind, girl.”
I decided to wade in and wreak some havoc of my own. “Maybe she’s Korean,” I suggested.
Both women looked at me. “Huh!” they said in unison.
“I said, maybe she’s Korean.”
“Ko-re-han?”
“You think?” Chartreuse said as she considered the possibility.
“Very possibly,” I said – but hey what would I know.
Louanna jumped to her feet, her more than ample bosom inches from my less than adequate ones, shuffled her body in some form of dance, and said, “What’s wrong witchoo, girl? You think we don’t knows the difference ‘tween our Asian sisters? Cause that girl Chinese haint she, Treuse?”
Chartreuse stood up, thrust her equally ample chest forward, and said, “No sir, she haint no Ko-re-han. We knows that for a fact.” Then she put her hands on her hips and stood with legs akimbo to emphasis the point, and said, “She Japanese.”
Louanna held up her hand in one of those talk to the hand gestures you see on Jerry Springer, and shuffled from side to side. The floorboards groaned and protested. I decided this might be a good time to make our exit.
“We’ll see you girls later.”
I grabbed hold of Rosie’s arm and hurried down the room to where I could see Linda waiting.
*****
Light rain misted the countryside leaving the sky devoid of color as the black ribbon road rolled away beneath their tires and disappeared on the gloomy horizon. The muddy river snaked across a landscape where corn grew in tall rows, their silken tops glistening with silver droplets of rain. Large yellow sunflowers that bowed down under the weight of ripe seeds and heavy rain stretched as far as the eye could see. At Martins Creek grain silos stood by the side of the road like giant space rockets – ready to launch.
The wipers swished back and forth as Danny peered through the windshield. “They look like wheat silos,” he said.
“Corn most probably,” Nicola said her face rippled with the shadow of rain running down the window. “Although they could be storing any kind of grain. Pennsylvania is known as the breadbasket of the nation.”
They passed an old wooden shed by the side of the road where a rusted tin sign, riddled with holes, like someone had used it for target practice, advertised a long forgotten brand of coffee.
The rain eased and as the sun burst through a break in the clouds, verandas and rooftops of farm houses glistened, and rain clung to blades of grass and dripped from trees like tiny jewels. In a distant field a bank of Combine-harvesters were slowly eating their way across the landscape the detritus of the harvest swirled around them and dust devils danced across the newly stripped landscape.
Muddy water in drainage ditches by the side of the road swirled with streaks of gasoline; and the purple/green gossamer wings of dragonflies shimmered above bright yellow buttercups. A warm breeze wafted in through open windows as the SUV drove through pastoral lands and small
ranches where white clapboard houses, red barns and post and rail fences dotted the landscape as they traveled along narrow country roads through sleepy towns and villages with quaint sounding names, like Apple Blossom, Stone Church, Shoemaker and Bushkill. Across the Delaware River the majestic Kittatinny Mountain Range was shrouded in mist where the sky was a pearly shade of gray.
When they arrived at the town of Port Jervis they stopped for lunch and then crossed the Delaware River into the state of New York.
As they passed through a town where election signs littered the roadside and posters tacked to buildings and taped to shop fronts encouraged residents to vote for a local politician...
*****
I stopped reading and looked up. Rosie was sitting with her back against a pillow drinking Milo from a tall glass blissfully ignorant of the chocolate moustache above her top lip. I removed my glasses, rubbed my eyes, and put them on the table beside my empty glass.
“Did I ever tell you about the time Ross and I could have registered to vote?”
“What! Here you mean–in the U.S?” Rosie’s pink tongue circled her lips. When she found the chocolate treat she closed her eyes–and licked.
“Yep, right here in the good ole U.S. of A.”
Rosie stopped licking, and laughed. “How could you? You’re not American citizens. You’re not even residents–although you probably should be made honorary citizens considering the amount of time you two spend in the country.”
“Think of the time we’d save going through customs at the airport. Mind you, I did try to get a green card once so I could open a charge account at Macy’s, but that’s a whole other story for another day.”
Rosie laughed. “So tell me, what happened?”
“What… the green card story?”
“No… The voting story. We’ll keep the green card for some other rainy day.”
“I leaned forward and peered out the window. “Is it raining?”
“I don’t think so…nah… just your imagination.”
I shrugged and wriggled my backside around to get comfortable, then started my tale...
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