Miracle Man

by Hildy Fox

  And so it went on for the next half an hour. One comment would lead to a chain reaction of involvement. People from all over town, of differing ages and socio-economic situations, had something to contribute. And the whole time Lahra waited for Marcus to have his say. But he said nothing. Finally there came a break in the discussion.

  "There's been a lot of positive thought expressed," Lahra said, resisting the compulsion to let her throat clench up. "But without directly addressing the position of the people we are opposing, our job is only half done." Lahra looked at Wally, and his expression was even more surprised than she imagined it would be. "So I invite to the stage the man who is in charge of the proposed Miracle Cinema redevelopment, from Stone Rowbottom & Partners, Mr Marcus Dean."

  Her eyes shifted to Marcus, and every pair of eyes in the room followed. A murmur of curiosity undulated from wall to wall. She looked at him standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and he looked back at her. At first it seemed he was just going to stand there like that and do nothing. But finally he moved toward the stage steps. And from what Lahra could tell, no eyes followed him with as much curiosity, or as much suspicion, as Kurt Carol's.

  Marcus’s lean, broad-shouldered frame stepped up onto the stage beside Lahra. She could read nothing in his face as to what he might be thinking. His body language was the same relaxed confidence he'd displayed from the first moment she'd seen him. There was absolutely no trace of anxiety at having been summoned up in front of hundreds of people who totally opposed him. From the way he was looking at her, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. If only Lahra felt as composed as Marcus Dean looked.

  "Thank you, Lahra, for giving me the opportunity to speak here tonight." He didn't smile as he spoke. Lahra felt relieved when he finally looked away from her and out at the audience. "I realise that most, if not all people in this room have made up their minds regarding what they'd like to see done with the Miracle Cinema. And I'd be a fool to stand here and try to change the mind of any one of you. Instead, let me suggest to you what the true sadness behind this whole situation is."

  The room was quieter than it had been all night. Lahra scanned the faces in the crowd, observing the way they looked up at Marcus. With so little effort he had captivated an entire audience. No wonder she had been powerless against his charm. No wonder every effort she had made to buffer her heart against him had ended up in tatters.

  "There is only one person in this room who can feel proud of what's being done. And she's standing right next to me. Without Lahra Brook, none of you would be here tonight. Just as none of you would have been terribly moved once the cinema closed down, or once redevelopment began. And just as none of you would have thought twice about patronising any new business built in the shadows of the old.

  "What I'm talking about is complacency. I'm not disputing the fact that you all feel passionate about your cause here tonight. But how many of you would have gone to the lengths that Lahra Brook has gone to, to make all this happen? How many other examples in Riverbank's history are there—and not just Riverbank, anywhere!—where things once loved were lost, for no reason other than it was easier for people to remain complacent than to take action?"

  Marcus shot Lahra a look, and she caught its full force. His eyes were ablaze.

  "The reason Stone Rowbottom & Partners decided to redevelop the Miracle Cinema, on my personal recommendation, was that we could. It's as simple as that. A piece of prime real estate in a growing town. A business that had lost money for the past seven years. A building that nobody, bar Lahra Brook, gave a second glance when passing it in the street. It was a solid business proposition, and nothing more.

  "It may surprise you to learn that I agree with everything being said here tonight. All the reasons you've given for keeping the Miracle Cinema are valid. I just think it's a shame that these feelings only surface when it's too late. And only then when there's somebody like Lahra Brook to encourage them."

  Lahra felt some of the eyes in the room shift to her. She was glad that they could only see the outside—what appeared to be a strong, determined woman, standing firmly before them. Had they been able to see through to the inside, to the rollercoaster of emotion that she rode every time Marcus came near her, what inspiration could she possibly hope to provide?

  "Tomorrow, initial work begins on the cinema site," Marcus continued. "I'll ask you now not to feel animosity towards me or any of the people who have found work through the redevelopment of the Miracle Cinema. None of us has a devious plan to destroy the past. All we're doing is getting on with our futures. If it weren't for complacency, none of this would be happening. If you want to be angry, be angry at yourselves. And ask how you'll avoid this type of thing from happening in Riverbank again.

  "Next time, there might not be a Lahra Brook to try and save you. Thank you."

  With that, Marcus turned from the silent crowd, and from Lahra, and headed for the steps.

  "Marcus." It had jumped out of Lahra's throat involuntarily, a thought that had somehow willed itself into words. Marcus stopped at the top of the steps and turned to her. She knew she wanted to say something, but exactly what she didn't know. In her mind's eye she could see him leaving the stage and making his way back out through the crowd, out through the doors and out into the street. And after that, chances were he'd walk out of her life as well.

  They stood there looking at each other impassively, Lahra's lips poised to talk, but unable to shape themselves around any sound. She wasn't aware of the room full of people any more. They might as well have been looking at each other in front of the fire in her living room.

  "I have a question, Mr Dean," a voice came from the audience. Lahra turned quickly to see Wally taking a step forward and addressing the stage. She thought she saw him raise a shrewd eyebrow her way, but if he did it was gone in a flash. The attention of the crowd moved to Wally as he spoke. "Do you expect me to be angry at myself for losing my job? Do you expect these people to be angry at themselves for taking positive action as soon as they became aware of what was happening? Do you think that people being complacent really gives you the excuse to go ahead and do whatever you want?"

  Marcus regarded Wally for several seconds, thinking. "I'm merely pointing out that there are ways to avoid losing the things you love before it's too late."

  "I see," Wally said with great consideration. He looked at Lahra, then back at Marcus. "Well I hope you know what you're talking about. Everybody in this room, especially Lahra Brook, is trying to hold on to what they love. None of us thinks it's too late. I just wonder what it is you love. And I wonder if you know when it's going to be too late."

  Lahra looked at Wally, something deep inside her shifting uncomfortably as if a secret she'd been guarding preciously had somehow gotten loose. He was talking as if he knew everything that had happened between her and Marcus. Surely she hadn't been so transparent all this time. But it was there in his eyes. A knowing, protective look, the kind which usually only a mother or father might have.

  The hushed room waited for some kind of rejoinder, but something else came to their ears. A low rumbling noise, barely audible at first, but growing in volume quickly. Some heads turned to try and locate a source, and questioning murmurs arose. In a matter of seconds, the rumbling had risen to such a level that it could be felt through the floor. People standing in the doorway had moved out to the street exit, and very soon activity outside drew more and more people that way.

  Marcus ignored the steps and jumped from the stage, making his way through the milling assembly in a hurry. Lahra watched him go, then jumped down herself.

  "Wally, what's going on?"

  "Only one way to find out."

  They headed for the doors along with most of the other people in the room, the rumble now a constant, powerful resonance. A horn of some sort, deep and menacing, sounded over the din. The crowd had bottlenecked at the front doors, and Lahra stood on her toes to try and see out to the st
reet.

  When at last she and Wally emerged into the blustery night, just behind the TV camera crew, they were amazed at what they saw.

  It was a convoy. There were half a dozen enormous dump trucks; huge flat-tray trucks with wheels almost as wide as Lahra was tall, carrying all types of earth moving machinery; loaders, rollers, bulldozers, cranes. And biggest of all, perched on the trailer of an articulated rig, was a digger with treads six feet wide and a claw large enough to pick up a car. The slow procession of yellow flashing lights moved past the crowd down Main Street, the earth quaking as it went. Lahra turned her head to follow the long line of brutal metal and stopped at the Miracle Cinema. They were taking up positions right out front.

  Instinctively, she headed that way. Ahead she could see Marcus striding toward the front of the cavalcade. She moved quicker, not waiting to see if Wally was still with her, dodging the people who stretched inquisitively along the sidewalk. The scene was oddly familiar to her, and in the back of her mind she recalled the B-grade science fiction movies of the 1950s. The quiet town, suddenly invaded by strange beings travelling in mysterious objects. The townsfolk, curious enough or stupid enough to investigate when they should have kept their distance. The inevitable disastrous outcome.

  But as strange and threatening as the machines that converged on the town were, Lahra held no fear. Even beings from another galaxy had their weaknesses. And these were merely men doing a job. As Marcus had so eloquently explained back in the Town Hall, it was not them toward whom she should direct her protests. Her only target was Marcus himself. She arrived behind him, puffing, just as he was greeting a couple of burly men who alighted the van at the front of the convoy.

  "Joe, Robert, g’day," she heard Marcus say as he shook their hands. It was difficult to hear over the engines of the various trucks as they assumed their positions around them. "All good?" Marcus asked. "You know where to set down, where the hotels are?"

  "Yep,” Joe said gruffly. “I’ll tuck these babies in for the night, check out the beer at the nearest pub, and go have a long hot bath!"

  "Okay, I'll leave you to it. Meet you here at eight tomorrow morning."

  Joe and Robert left to oversee the fleet of new arrivals to Riverbank.

  "So is the National Guard coming too?" Lahra said loudly above the din. Marcus turned to her, unaware that she had been standing there the whole time, and looked at her with a small shake of the head. The yellow light of the nearest truck strobed across his face.

  "Are you going to follow me through every step of this procedure? I'd have thought it would be too painful to stand around and watch while the Miracle was reduced to rubble."

  "All this is a bit extreme, isn't it, Marcus? You must have twenty machines here."

  "Twenty one. And no, not really. We've used these men before. The best demolition team I've worked with. They're quick and they know their job. I could have settled for some local help, but I know what I get with these guys. I don't mind paying a little extra to ask them to come out here for a week."

  The invisible barrier between them was almost a tangible force. Only the bitter wind had the power to pass through it.

  "So do you think your meeting was a success?" Marcus asked. Light rain had started to fall, and a drop caught him on the cheek.

  "Yes. Yes I do. It's only a matter of time before something happens."

  "Hmm. Time. That's your real problem, isn't it?"

  "No Marcus," Lahra declared in sudden frustration. "You're my problem. You! Can't you see what you're doing here? Can't you see what you're doing to this town?"

  Marcus watched her blankly. Lahra could feel her most supressed emotions revealing themselves on her face. Standing here right in front of the Miracle Cinema with Marcus, as the rain began to fall and the machines of destruction assumed their positions around them, was like waking up in the middle of a dream gone wrong. All at once the enormous burden that she had taken on was pressing down on her, squeezing her control from her, threatening to make her vulnerable before him.

  "I know what I'm doing to the town," Marcus responded, his eyes dropping to the asphalt between them. "That's been planned on paper for months." There was a thoughtful silence, and then he looked up at her as if the rain had washed the hardness from his eyes. "What I don't fully know, and what scares me the most, is what I'm doing to you."

  Tears held too long and too deep inside Lahra found their way to the brink of the outside world. She closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to hold them back. Why did it have to be him? Why, of all the men in the world that she could have met, did she have to fall in love with Marcus Dean?

  An arm slipped over her shoulders and pulled her in tight to a warm body. She didn't want to look, because if it wasn't Marcus she didn't want to know.

  "This bloke bothering you?" Kurt Carol asked as he pulled Lahra closer. But his eyes didn't look at her when he spoke. They were fixed like laser sights on Marcus. "I sure hope you're not bothering the lady, mate. Your life wouldn't be worth living if you did anything to her."

  Marcus didn't look at Kurt. He looked only at Lahra. "You may be right."

  "It's okay, Kurt," Lahra managed to say without her voice breaking. "We were just talking."

  Kurt looked at Lahra's tormented, glistening eyes, then back at Marcus. "I suggest you go find somebody else to talk to. If you know what's good for you."

  "I believe it was you who interrupted our conversation. Why don't you go and find a conversation that isn't already taking place?"

  Kurt's eyes widened into an incredulous stare. His arm loosened from around Lahra and he positioned her behind him like she was some sort of valuable, fragile vase. He stepped slowly towards Marcus, his boots crunching the road beneath, stopping no more than three inches from a collision between their noses.

  "Kurt, what are you doing?" Lahra protested. But he didn't seem to hear her.

  "Are you tellin' me what to do in my town?" Kurt seethed through clenched teeth. "Please tell me you are, because I'd like nothing better than to break that pretty face of yours open all over the footpath."

  "Kurt, stop it!"

  Marcus stared back into Kurt's manic eyes with trademark composure. "Tell me Kurt. Are all the ladies as impressed with your self control as Lahra seems to be?"

  Lahra knew Kurt too well. She threw herself between them. "Stop it, both of you!"

  "Hey, Marcus!" a voice called. It was Joe, jogging up to meet him. "Could you come over here a minute?"

  "Sure," Marcus said, his eyes finally leaving Kurt's glare. "I'm coming now."

  Kurt moved to Lahra's side and put a protective arm around her once more. The rain was now becoming quite heavy. She looked into Marcus’s eyes as he was turning to leave. There was a timeless moment as she watched a single drop of water gather on his eyelash, then tumble down over his cheek to his lips. To those lips. "Marcus!" she called suddenly, weakly. He turned to her fully, the rain now dripping from the comma of dark hair that hung over his forehead. "Please... please don't."

  "C'mon, Marcus," Joe called. "I said I wanted a bath, not a shower!"

  She felt the grip his eyes had on her loosen, then fall away completely. He turned slowly, and walked away. "Please," Lahra said again. But the only person who heard her plea, was herself.

  SEVEN

  "Dad!" Lahra called. "Daddy! I'm down here! Down here!"

  She was calling at the top of her voice, but it was as if somebody had found her hidden volume control and turned it way down. She was sitting in the front row of the Miracle Cinema, the only person in the entire auditorium, watching a silent, black and white movie of her father on a ship full of strangers. He looked sad and cold.

  "Daddy!"

  Then a woman entered the scene and stopped by her father's side. He turned to her and seemed to brighten immediately. They flung their arms around one another and kissed.

  "Mummy!" Lahra called weakly. "Mum, I'm just here!"

  But there was no response from the flicker
ing images on the screen. Her parents and the people milling about on the deck behind them were completely oblivious to Lahra's beckoning. It had begun to rain in the movie, but nobody seemed to care. Her father and mother continued holding each other and talking as if they were in the middle of a park on a sunny Spring day. Lahra seemed attached to her chair, her eyes unable to move from the screen. Her heart beat fast and hard like she knew something bad was going to happen, but she didn't know what.

  "Mummy. Daddy. I'm here," she said quietly, resignedly.

  Suddenly, the image on the screen lurched, as if the ship had broken in half. Her parents grabbed each other and steadied themselves, while the people in the background broke into a panic and started to run in every direction at once. The rain was now a torrent, and grey waves splashed up onto the deck. "No!" Lahra screamed, but the louder she tried to call, the softer her voice sounded.

  Her mother and father held each other close as the background seemed to sink into the cold ocean. Lahra turned to look at the projection booth, at the strobing light that spilled from the glass window. "Stop it!" she shrieked, but it didn't stop. The white light merely changed to a flashing yellow, and when she turned back to the screen the images were the same, hazardous colour. "No, please!" she cried, but there was nobody to hear her.

  The water swirled higher and higher on the screen, and her parents just looked into each other's eyes and kissed. It was then that Lahra saw somebody standing in the background, the crashing water rising quickly over his chest, the yellow light flashing rhythmically across his face. It was Marcus, and he seemed to be staring straight at her. "Noooooo!" she screamed, but this time not a single sound came from her mouth.

  And then the screen was filled with murky, yellow water. Her parents were gone from view, Marcus was nowhere to be seen. The only sound in the entire cinema was the spattering of incessant rain.