Darkroom

by Joshua Graham

  “Glad it fits. But Eli’s the doctor who patched you up. How’re you feeling?”

  “Tired.”

  While they talk, something tugs on my heart. It’s not Jake or Kyle, personally—at least, I don’t think so. It’s more what they represent. Kyle is security, the one who believed me and risked himself to save me from certain death. And Jake is comfort, understanding, a connection on the spiritual level.

  Have I lacked such things so much that I’m emotionally drawn to them now? Until middle school, Dad had always provided security and comfort. But understanding? Well, two out of three’s not too shabby.

  No. I am not a little girl seeking a paternal substitute. Am I? Jung and Freud would have a field day with me. I’ve got to focus on the matters at hand.

  Unaware of my flight into oblivion all the time they’ve been speaking, Kyle turns to me. “We’ve got a plan.”

  61

  The first thing we need to do, they tell me, is to remove and destroy the GPS tracking device attached to the car Kyle commandeered at the airport. It’s something many car-service fleets install in their vehicles as an antitheft measure and to track their drivers.

  Kyle’s in no condition to crawl under a car right now, so Jake has offered to help me with that. We’ve parked the car in a barn for now and can only hope that the GPS transponder dome was too wet to transmit properly.

  “I think it’s that square thing right above the rear window.”

  “I’ll get it.” Jake unsheathes a hunting knife and digs under the cover. After a few attempts, the cover pops off. Using a screwdriver, he disconnects two wires. “We’ll need to take the car to El Centro, reactivate the GPS for a few minutes, then disconnect and discard it.”

  “You think it’ll work?”

  “Agent Matthews seems to think it’ll throw them off the scent.”

  “How far is El Centro?”

  “About an hour and a half.” He examines the wires on the bare transponder. “I haven’t got a license.”

  “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much. And I wouldn’t want to get you involved in this mess.”

  “Seems I already am.” Jake picks up a paper bag and hands it to me. It’s my clothes, washed and ironed. “Compliments of Ruth. She’s such a mother hen.”

  “Would you thank her for me? This dress she lent me is nice, but it’s really not my style.”

  “I think you look fetching in it.”

  “Thanks, but I prefer my Levi’s.” There’s a clean and empty stable, and I’d like to get out of this stiff-collared and drab outfit. “Can I use that to change?”

  “Sure, just make sure the door shuts tight. I’ll replace this dome cover so it’s not conspicuous.”

  As I disrobe and get into my own clothes, a thought comes to mind. “Jake,” I call out over the open rafters, “do you think Kyle is well enough to take the trip with me to El Centro?”

  “He’s still drowsy from the medication. Eli says he needs another week or so to fully recover.”

  “Another week!”

  “Though he tends to err on the side of extremely overcautious.”

  “That’s okay, just wondering.” After getting fully dressed, I step back out. The car is ready. And so is Jake, sitting in the driver’s seat.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Taking the transponder and getting rid of it.”

  “But you don’t have a driver’s license.”

  He smiles like a cat with bright yellow feathers between its teeth.

  “What?”

  “Doesn’t mean I’ve never driven.”

  Jake has pulled out of the barn with the nose of the car pointing down the dirt road, where puddles reflect blue sky and white clouds.

  “Just don’t tell Eli, all right?”

  “I don’t believe this. You want me to lie for you?”

  Jake grins. “Try to avoid him so it doesn’t become an issue.”

  “This is crazy. I should be the one going.”

  “Your face is all over the news. If you go into the city, you increase the chance of getting caught.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hey, let’s pray for success, okay?” He reaches out to me. Guess I’m supposed to hold hands with him while we pray. I don’t mind. He’s silent for a while, concentration pinching shut the corners of his eyes. “Mmmm … Mmm … Yes. Amen.” He opens his eyes and smiles.

  “That’s it? Aren’t you supposed to say something? Hail Mary full of grace, Our Father who art in heaven, or something like that?”

  “Sometimes prayer is more about listening than speaking.”

  “Listening.” That’s something new to me. “And seeing?”

  “On occasion.”

  “Did you just see something?”

  “Kind of.” He puts the transmission into drive and gets ready to drive off.

  “Well?”

  “I have a feeling our paths will cross again in the future.” He dons a pair of sunglasses—coolest looking pastor I’ve ever seen—then waves and revs the engine. “Later!”

  When not resting, Kyle has spent most of the day sitting up in bed, surrounded by papers and pencils, writing out plans and contingency plans. Each time I try to interrupt and inquire, he holds up a hand, “Uh-uh! Never disturb me when I’m planning.”

  “Fine.”

  I’ve followed Jake’s advice about avoiding Eli. But in doing so, I’ve pretty much avoided everyone else here in the colony as well. They’re not too nosy, though once in a while I catch a glimpse of some of the children. They take furtive glances at me, as if I were some new animal in a cage.

  While I’m watching the ducks at a pond behind the barn, Rebecca, the girl who gave me a towel when I first arrived, comes to sit next to me on a log. “Hello, Rebecca.”

  She smiles and presses her face against her shoulder. “You can call me Becky if you like.”

  “Hi Becky. How old are you?”

  “Seven. What’s your name?”

  “Xandra.”

  “That’s a nice name.”

  “You can call me Xandi.” I lean over and whisper in her ear. “Wanna hear something?” She nods. “It’s Xandra, spelled with an X.”

  As if she’d been told the world’s naughtiest secret, she puckers her lips and raises her eyebrows. “I thought it was spelled with an S.”

  “Xandra is short for Alexandra.”

  “I like that.”

  “So did my mom, apparently. It’s Greek for ‘defender of mankind’ or ‘warrior.’”

  “Wow.” From the look on her face, I’d say she believes that I really am those things.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never really been able to defend anyone because I’m always getting myself in trouble.”

  Rebecca giggles and puts her hand over her mouth. “Me too.”

  “And I’m no warrior.”

  “I am.” She sits up tall, her chest proud.

  “Really?”

  “Oh yes. Come on, I’ll show you.” Rebecca pulls me by the hand and leads me to a clearing under the trees. “Watch me.” She starts to sing a song about the armor of God and does these lively pantomimes to represent the helmet of salvation, the shield of faith, the breastplate of righteousness.

  She finishes with a slashing motion with her imaginary sword of the Spirit. “Ta-da!”

  “Very nice, Becky!” She takes a deep bow, then curtseys, fanning out the hem of her black skirt. Reveling in my praise, she smiles and skips off into the field where she starts picking dandelions.

  Once upon a time, I was just like her. I was the apple of Dad’s eye. Whether it was ballet, soccer, or cello, I lived for his praise. Funny how none of those hobbies lasted, not even cello playing. When I started to notice his pulling away from my life, I sought out things I knew interested him. Photography was to be my next conquest, and it proved serendipitous that I loved it enough to pursue a career in it. Just like Dad.

  I really need to call h
im. He’s probably going crazy with all the news reports and not being able to get in touch with me.

  Becky returns and hands me a fistful of dandelions, their spores begging to be launched into flight. “Let’s go.” She pulls my hand into the field. There we blow them into the air. Tiny little parachutes liberated from the effects of gravity. But even they must fall to the ground and die, in order to fulfill their destiny and produce new life.

  “Let’s spin, Xandi!”

  “Spin?”

  “Yes, silly! Like this!” She points her face to the sky, shuts her eyes as warm sunlight bathes her cheeks, and twirls round and round. “Come on, Xandi. It’s fun!”

  Fun indeed. I haven’t done anything this childish since … well, since I was a child. Oh, why not? Spreading my wings, I, too, lift my face to the sun, shut my eyes, and spin, while Becky sings an unintelligible song. The simplicity of a child’s world. Unencumbered by the stress and responsibilities of life. All she needs is to be loved and cared for. For this moment alone, I permit myself to be such a child as I indulge in “spinning.”

  “Rebecca!”

  Startled, we both stop. For the first time on her angelic face, I see fear. She’s too petrified to answer Eli, who stands with one hand on a walking stick. The scowl is so deeply recessed into his face, it looks permanent.

  “What are you doing, child?”

  She hides behind my back as I greet him. “Eli, good morning.”

  “I am talking to her.” He peers around me. “Answer me, Rebecca!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Rebecca!”

  “If you stopped shouting and scaring her, she might—”

  “You … are a bad influence.”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Child, I’ll say it one more time. What are you doing?”

  “She was just doing what a kid should do.”

  “Rebecca missed her morning devotions at school.”

  My throat parches. “It’s my fault.”

  “It most certainly is!” He steps around me and takes Rebecca by the hand firmly. “Run along to your classroom.”

  “Yes, sir.” Down the grassy hill she scampers off until she’s out of view.

  Eli mutters something and simply walks away.

  “Eli, wait!”

  “What is it?”

  “I wanted to thank you for helping Kyle.”

  He tips his hat. “‘To the least of these,’ saith the Lord,” then continues hobbling down the path.

  I match his gait, hold his elbow as we make our way down the wet grass. “We’ll leave as soon as we can, I promise.”

  “You’re welcome to stay long as you need, Ms. Carrick. Just remember, we Mennonites are in the world, not of it. You represent all the temptation we strive to avoid.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh, your worldly ways, televisions that suck your brains and souls dry, your immodest clothes that cause men to falter, your violence and hate. For things such as these have we separated ourselves, lest we fall into temptation and sin.”

  I’m not offended personally, though sometimes I wonder if I do dress a certain way deliberately to get noticed. Mom never wanted me to do that when I began to blossom, and for the most part I was a good kid.

  But during my decadent college years, and thanks to my wild roommates with whom I still have sushi once a week, I bought my first thong, Victoria’s Secret Wonderbra, stilettos, and other Friday-night wear.

  Except for the sexy underwear, I never actually wore any of those items to go out. And I never messed around with boys the way they did. Add to that the one and only time I got drunk and lost it all over Jenn’s boyfriend’s carpet, and you’ve got the full extent of my decadence. Right out of college, I devoted myself completely to my photography, with Ethan as my one and only mistake. A horrid mistake at that.

  “Well, Eli, I’ll try not to corrupt any of the good people here before we leave.”

  He lowers his glasses and stares at Jake’s house. “Have you seen Jacob?”

  62

  The sun is setting and Jake’s not back yet. Eventually I had to confess to Eli, who only scowled and walked back into his house. Hopefully Jake will forgive the betrayal. He was the one who told me, “The truth will set you free.”

  I’m sitting on the bench outside the congregational meeting hall. If only I could call his cell phone. If anything were to happen to him, I would feel terrible. And responsible. Even though it was his own idea to go into El Centro as a decoy.

  “You look like the girl who got stood up on prom night.” Kyle takes a seat next to me. The bench is narrow and we’re shoulder to shoulder.

  “I’m worried.”

  “You guys should’ve talked to me first. I wouldn’t have let him do it. By now, we’ve probably got both Homeland and the FBI looking for us. Not to mention that psycho hitman pretending to be a Homeland agent.”

  “You think they got to Jake?”

  “Hope not.” Kyle ponders this and repositions himself by lifting his arm. Which he naturally puts to rest behind me on the back of the bench. If we were kids on a date, this would be known as the yawn-stretch move. I’m too worried about Jake to debate Kyle’s intentions though. “What do we really know about him?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “We just met him, you know. I just don’t know what I think about your being so close—”

  “Close?”

  “That didn’t come out right.”

  “Didn’t it?”

  “I’m just saying. He’s on a critical mission, one that could put any or all of us in danger. And he’s a minister for—for heaven’s sake. What he’s doing requires high-level field and surveillance training.”

  “I know, but … It was either he takes it, or I go alone. Even if he came with me, I’d be exposed. And after yesterday, well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “I get it.” He lets out a long breath. “And no, I wouldn’t have let you go out there either. I just wish you’d spoken with me. I might have been able to do it.”

  “You said we had to get rid of the GPS right away. And besides, you were recovering.”

  “Do you trust him, Xandra?”

  That makes me stop and think. Strange, I never asked myself that question. I want to say yes, definitely. But I can’t. “I don’t know.”

  A pair of doves walk down the gravelly road. Their cooing fades as they vanish. Over the treetops, an amber veil casts itself over the sky, while the fingers of a gentle breeze run through my hair. The firmness against which my back leans is not the bench but Kyle’s arm and shoulder. Exactly when we’d drawn so close eludes me. I must have felt his warmth, but it feels so intrinsical, I don’t question it.

  Kyle leans over. The warmth of his breath tickles my ear. “Do you trust me?”

  I turn to face him, only to find his burnished eyes gazing intently into mine. I’ve heard somewhere that there are moments in life—rare moments—in which we make a spiritual connection with another human being. A connection so profound, so utterly real, that words cannot suffice in its description. It’s a mutual recognition that something greater than either of you has ordained this very moment. This beautiful and yet infuriatingly enigmatic man has risked so much for me. And he asks if I trust him? “With my life.”

  With his hand resting warmly on my face, he presses his lips to my brow. Fearing this moment will atomize at the slightest disturbance, I dare not breathe. The warmth of his hand flows through my entire being. Through it, I sense the anguish of decades, a longing for truth and meaning, a thirst for culmination.

  Our lips touch, like a spark igniting a long fuse. I cannot help but fall into his embrace as we kiss like lovers reunited. I have needed him.

  My arms entwine his sturdy body. Gasping between kisses, I open my lips to say his name. Nothing but short breaths come forth. Finally, “I do, Kyle. I do trust you.”

  “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

&nbs
p; “I know.” A pang of dread pierces my heart. “I know.” Soon I’m trembling, trying not to cry.

  “What’s the matter?” Tenderly, he wipes my tears with his thumb.

  “I’m just so …”

  Holding my gaze, his own eyes shimmer, reflecting the twilight sky.

  “Everything. I’m happy, I’m grateful …”

  “But?”

  “But I’m scared. Kyle, I’m scared.”

  He holds me tight, reassures me that everything is going to be all right. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, don’t worry.”

  “No, it’s not that.” I touch his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever known such joy, such understanding. I’m so afraid of losing you!”

  “You won’t. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  One of the doves flies out from behind the shrubs and sings a doleful dirge as it ascends the heavens alone. Until the sun has completely expired, and the moon and stars have taken their places in the firmament, I remain nestled in Kyle’s protecting arms, the occasional sighing and cooing floating up with the steam of my breath. Oh, that this moment would last.

  But it never does.

  63

  Jake returns, the headlights of the car reminiscent of a panther’s feral eyes. It’s about seven forty-five. He climbs out, looking worn.

  Filled with relief, and a bit of annoyance, I run to him. “What took you so long?” I almost scold him the way Mom would scold me as a teenager for staying out past my curfew—which only happened once or twice.

  Maybe three times.

  “I might have erred on the side of extremely overcautious,” Jake says and hands me the keys. Kyle limps over. “But I reconnected the transceiver in a parking deck in downtown El Centro, left it on for about half an hour. I’ll tell you, every car that passed by scared the daylights out of me. I thought for sure I’d be arrested.”

  “What about the transponder?” Kyle says.

  “I disconnected it and tossed it in a pond fifty miles east of El Centro. They’ll think you’ve gone to Arizona.”

  Kyle sucks his teeth. “Not that simple.”