“That’s a lie.”
“So what if it is? Apparently God approves of lies as long as the ends justify the means.”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Hank replied. “I just don’t want to see you make a fool out of yourself.”
“Oh, you can get all caveman like and drag me by the hair in front of the priest and maybe even twist my arm. But you know what? You still can’t make me say it. And neither can they.” She paused, placing her hand flat on his chest, feeling his heart thudding hard against her palm. “My family knows it, your family suspects it, and I’m sure the priest will be shocked by it, but I don’t care anymore.”
“Althea—”
“Remember when I told you I used to spend time at the church? Do you know what I was doing there?”
“Serving God?”
“No, I was reading. I spent a great deal of time in Sister Brigit’s library. Guess what I found there.”
“I have no idea.”
“Have you ever heard the story of Lilith?”
“No.”
“Lilith was Adam’s first wife. God created her equal to Adam, but you see, when it came time for Adam and Lilith to consummate their marriage, Lilith refused. Do you want to know why?”
“No.”
Althea leaned forward and whispered in Hank’s ear. “Because when Adam tried to make her submit to his will she said she would not. She left the Garden of Eden and never returned.”
“That’s not in the Bible.”
“Not in any part you’ve ever read, bub.”
“Althea, you’re being silly. Quit telling these blasphemous stories, and go to bed.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Lilith lately. About how she had the strength to say no. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to say no, especially to someone you love, don’t you think?”
“Please Althea.”
“I think that’s what I’ve been waiting for,” she said after several moments of consideration, “courage to say no and mean it. There’s been this pause in my life. Like the way late summer becomes so hushed and still, just before autumn comes. I’ve been the same way, I guess. All my life Mom has made decisions for me. But tomorrow will be different. I’ll be eighteen.” She smiled, her skin golden as she leaned against him, her lips nearly brushing his as she spoke.
“The worst thing my mother can do is throw me out of the house. And the worst thing the church can do is excommunicate me for disobedience. And I don’t give a damn about either. I’m going to do what I want with my life and that’s all there is to it.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Hank whispered, mortified. “You’re panicking because of the wedding. You don’t have to be afraid, Althea. I’ll be a good husband, I promise.” He gently pushed her away. “God will forgive you of this blasphemy if you just go back to your room and pray. Please, do that. Everything will look better in the morning.”
“And so you really don’t want any of this?” she asked as the nightgown slid down to her waist.
“No, now please go back to bed.”
“It’s your loss,” she said, “because I wanted to give you this gift of myself before I go.”
“Go then,” Hank whispered, rolling onto his side. “You know fornication is a sin. We can wait until tomorrow night.”
Althea leaned forward again, strands of her hair brushing Hank’s cheek. She whispered into his ear. “You don’t get it. There’s not going to be a wedding, and the only thing you’re going to marry is the next sucker your parents palm off on you.”
“Althea, please.”
“Remember last week, before the rehearsal, when we walked to the movies, and I tried to get you to see Father then, but you hid behind duty and honor, justifying the ugly hypocrisy of this whole thing with Biblical nonsense? Remember how mad I was because you wouldn’t do the right thing and I left? Did you wonder where I went? Did you even care?”
“I figured you went somewhere to cool off,” Hank muttered into the pillow. “Maybe to a girl friend’s house or something...I don’t know.”
“I went to the army recruiter’s office and signed up. I joined the army, bucko. I’m going to become a nurse. And you, my friend, are going to be either a patsy for your folks who’ll pick out the next loser bride for you, or the priest you were destined to become.”
Startled, Hank sat up, nearly bumping Althea’s chin with the top of his head.
“You did what?”
“I said I joined the army,” she replied, scooting into his lap. “And these,” she added as she cupped her bare breasts, “are now property of Uncle Sam. But I want you to know that I do care for you a great deal. In some ways I might even love you, but I’m not letting anyone force me to do anything I don’t want to do, even if it means never speaking to my mother again.” Her voice caught. She swallowed hard, and then continued, “even if it means having to give up my religion. I am going to be free to decide what I am going to do with my life. And I’m giving you the opportunity to do the same. We can stand together on this tomorrow morning simply by agreeing to say no to Father before we go before the altar. So which is it, Hank? Do you want to make love to me or not?”
“Of course I do, but not like this. When we’re married.”
Althea blinked, stunned. She pulled her gown up and said, “you haven’t heard a word I said have you?”
“You’re just upset. You’ll never abandon your mother or the church,” Hank said evenly. He settled back down onto his pillow. “And if you did sign up, it won’t matter because you’re still seventeen. Besides, your mother can have that whole silly mess taken care of, just like my dad did for me. Now go to bed, say your prayers. I’m not supposed to see the bride until you walk down the aisle.”
Angry and hurt, Althea pulled up her gown and left his room. She closed the door behind her, and then leaned against it. It’s done, she thought, feeling strangely let down. Done and over with. The only thing left to do is...
Leave before anyone wakes up.
Althea dressed, grabbed the packed knapsack she’d hidden under her bed and went outside. She sat on the veranda and watched as a meteor shower tossed red and gold sparks against the black vault of the sky. She felt frightened, yet elated, unfettered.
Althea thought about the itinerary the recruiter handed her. She would be expected to report to the recruiting station in Alexandria, where she would take her physical and swear her oath. She had a little money, enough to stay at the local Y before her induction, and something to eat on. It’d be sparing, she knew. She’d have to eat only two meals a day if that, and even that would not be much. But it was worth it, she was sure. It was just a little suffering for a lifetime of happiness.
In an hour the sun will be up and I’ll leave this shithole for good. Oh sure Mom will have kittens about it. I don’t care. I hope she has a whole damned litter.
She looked at the window, where, not more than a few feet away, her prospective husband slept. Hank is a sweet boy, but he lives in his own little world of novenas and stained glass. Hank should leave that fantasy behind and step into the reality that’s waiting for him. But he won’t. He’s a coward. He’ll be standing at the church waiting on me, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ll come to him because that’s what’s expected of me. Of us. But I won’t be there. And he’ll have nobody to blame but himself. It’s not like I didn’t try to warn him.
Althea gazed up at the moon. Her mind turned back to Jake, who earlier that evening had crept up to the house after he was certain everyone had gone to bed. Althea was on the balcony when he stepped out of the darkness and into the soft glow of the gaslight; strangling a handful of weedy flowers he picked off the riverbank. He called for her to leave her balcony and join him on the lawn.
We’ll elope, he had told her, and go anywhere you want. The world, he said, would be their oyster.
Althea laughed at him, told him she hated oysters, and with a swish of her hair and skirts, went back inside, cl
osing the white French doors behind her as she went. How could I possibly want Jake, especially now that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s a cad. He’s worse than Hank.
**You are an exceedingly insightful young woman,** Mr. Lindt’s voice entered her mind, jolting her out of her reverie, ** when it comes to certain things, but foolish and impulsive when it comes to other matters. Like what you’re contemplating now, for instance. If you go through with what you’re planning, it’s going to cause a tremendous amount of heartache. Do you really want to make the people who love you so very much suffer?**
“What else am I supposed to do, when nobody listens to me?” she said aloud. She turned around and saw Lindt standing in the doorway. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I never sleep,” he replied as he stepped across the threshold and sat down in his favorite spot on the veranda. “But you,” he added, “you can and you must. Tomorrow is the big day you know.”
“I’m not going.”
“Yes,” Lindt said, smiling. “Of course. You been planning this for a while now, haven’t you?”
Althea crossed her arms. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Playing coy doesn’t become you,” Lindt said, casually tapping a cigarette out of a pack and lighting up. He flicked off the excess ash and took another drag, then sighed.
“Your thoughts are bright and clear.” He tapped his head. “And you’ve been thinking about it for a while now. But I have to admit that I didn’t expect you to implement them quite like this.”
And what, exactly, is that?”
“Playing coy again?”
“I’m too old for games.”
Lindt looked at her, his eyes sparkling in the darkness.
“The knapsack is a dead giveaway. You’re planning on running away.”
“Now why in the world would I want to do that?”
“You said it yourself, Althea. Nobody will listen to you. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You really don’t want the confrontation you know will result when you say no at the altar. You’d rather flee under the cover of darkness than to face your mother. That’s why you’re sitting out here, isn’t it? Thinking about fleeing to the bus stop before the household wakes? Living in the Y, living off milk and crackers until your induction, and praying nobody will find you in the meantime?”
Althea slumped. “I guess you’re right.”
“Of course, you know how much pain that would cause, especially to your mother. She’d be frantic, then heartbroken when she finally found you. You really don’t want to break her heart or frighten her, do you?”
“No,” she whispered.
“I know. You’re a good girl, Althea-Marie, even if you don’t think so. Not right now, at least.”
“I suppose,” she admitted, her eyes downcast.
“And do you really want to leave Hank standing at the altar? That poor, dear, deluded boy who loves his parents so much he’s willing to sacrifice his whole life just for the sake of their happiness?” Lindt tapped his cigarette again and added, “I know you’ve told him several times that you aren’t going to marry him, but his duty to his parents makes your words fall on deaf ears. I understand how frustrating that is for you. And yet, he deserves to know the truth, and the only way he will hear it is when you say no when you stand before the priest tomorrow morning. Otherwise he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth looking for you. Your mother will find a way to get you out of the army, and everything you’ve planned will come undone.”
“I guess you’re right. But, Mr. Lindt, I’m scared. Nobody has listened to me so far. How can I think they’ll listen to me tomorrow?”
“Of course you’re scared. It’s only natural. It takes tremendous courage to say no to someone who can’t take no for an answer. And in your young life so many people haven’t taken no for an answer. It is so much easier to cave in to the other person’s demands, and secretly that’s what they expect; but you’ll suffer terribly if you do. You’re hurting now, even now, just thinking about it. How can you bear an entire lifetime of unhappiness because you are too afraid to stand up for yourself when the time comes?”
“This is the same thing I’ve been telling Hank,” she said softly. “Okay. I’ll go to the wedding. I’ll put my foot down and tell them all I won’t be forced into this. I’ll let them all know I’ve joined the army and am going to live my life as I see fit.”
“Good girl.”
“You’re leaving, too,” Althea said unsurprised. “You’ve been mulling over how to tell me.” She tapped her temple. “It’s been in the back of your mind.”
“You’ve become a very astute young woman.”
“Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite by not standing your own ground? After all, you were going to leave under the cover of darkness yourself, weren’t you?”
“This is different. Lives are at stake. I cannot allow that. Other people’s safety supersedes my own.”
“But Mom has a shotgun and we can contact the sheriff—”
“No.”
“But nothing peculiar has happened in quite some time. I think whatever it was has finally gone away.”
“No. Sadly, it hasn’t.”
“How do you know?”
Lindt’s gaze moved toward the docks. “We’re being watched. Even now.”
Fear clattered up Althea’s spine. “Now?”
“Yes. Even now.”
“Why haven’t they done anything?”
“I don’t know. They’re biding their time, perhaps. But I do know we’re safe for the moment. As long as I don’t make any sudden moves.”
“Please, let us help. I want you to stay, and I know Tante wants you to stay.”
“The best way you can help me is by not hindering me,” Lindt said gently.
“When are you leaving?”
“As soon as the car arrives. Within the next half hour or so, I think.”
“So soon?”
“Yes,” Lindt said, his voice so soft she could barely hear him. “I’m afraid so.”
“It’s not—not really a car is it?” Althea asked after a long pause.
“There are a great many things that aren’t what they seem.”
“I wish it would never come,” Althea said, “the car, I mean.”
“So do I, but it will and I must leave with it.”
“It’s not fair. You’re supposed to walk me down the aisle.”
Mr. Lindt laughed heartily. “But you forget bay-bay you’re not getting married, remember?”
“It would have been nice to have you there with me when I tell everyone that I joined the army.”
“Moral support?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“You can do this very well without me, I think.”
“Maybe I can, but what about Tante? She’s in love with you, you know. Ain’t you taking her with you?”
“She cannot go where I’m going.”
“Oh my God, you’re about to die,” Althea said, deadpan.
Again Lindt laughed. He shook his head, then extracting the white handkerchief from his pants’ pocket, used it to wipe the tears from his eyes, and said, “no, no it’s nothing like that at all. It’s simply time to go home.”
“You mean take a powder,” Althea said, jerking her head towards the docks, “before those things come looking you up.”
“Please don’t say that aloud.”
“Why ever not?”
He sighed, his expression wistful as he looked out at the night sky. “I knew when we saw the remnant in the woods that day. I knew they were too close then, especially after the incident with the fireflies, but I couldn’t move without causing suspicion. Besides, I didn’t want to go. I’ve come to think of you as a daughter, and Cally, yes...I had hoped...I knew it wouldn’t be possible but still—still, I yearned...to have a home here with you and Cally and live a quiet unobtrusive life. I’m afraid I must go. Even now, it might be too late. It’s out of selfish
ness and my own desires that I lingered too long.” He gazed out at the docks. His jaw clenched. Althea’s skin crawled.
“What are they? Why are they after you? Can’t you call the Feds or the National Guard or something?”
“No one can help me, I’m afraid. I’m pretty much on my own for now.” He winked at her. “I have allies. Powerful allies, but they’re too far away to be much help right now. You needn’t worry about me. This isn’t the first time I’ve run afoul of these things.”
“What makes tonight any more or less dangerous than a week ago?” Althea asked.
“Let’s just say I heard a whisper on the wind,” Lindt said. He sighed as he gazed up at the trees which had taken on a sickly cast. “I could have spent the rest of my days here in peace, being with your lovely aunt. She’s the first woman since Anoryah that I loved.”
“And you do love her? Tante, I mean.”
“Yes.”
“Fiercely?”
“More than she will ever know.”
“But she’ll be heartbroken if you go without telling her. She loves you too. I’ve never seen her so happy.”
“I’ll see her again before I leave,” Lindt said. “I’m not a hypocrite, telling you to face your responsibilities while shirking my own.”
“I know you’re not,” Althea replied. She paused, contemplating. “Where are you going to go?”
“For the time being? Not far. I intend to slip out of Rapides Parish as quietly as I arrived.”
“I’ll miss you,” Althea said.
“I know you will.”
“I’ll never see you again, will I?” she asked, tears stinging her eyes.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Are you sure? Or is everything you said about things changing a lie?”
“Impermanence is never a lie.”
“Never seeing you again sounds pretty permanent to me.”
He paused for a long time, his expression unreadable. “I have a birthday present for you. It’s something Mrs. Ramsay quaintly called ‘the showing.’ Do you mind if I offered you the showing?”
“No, not at all.”
Offering her an enigmatic smile, Mr. Lindt slid off of his chair and kneeled onto the deck. He raised his hands towards her in an offering gesture. Althea hesitated for a moment, and she took his hands and knelt in front of him.
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