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<\/a><\/p>\nOne late afternoon, coming back through the swale, he saw all the parsnip flowers had fallen. Beyond the pond he saw her standing on the edge of the field. In the field the hamlet women were cutting down the stalks and gathering them in bunches. She was wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat with a black band. The sand-colored hat was tilted up as she photographed the harvesting women. The wind blew her lilac calf-length skirt so that it billowed and then wrapped around her legs. He came up behind her and stood watching the women at work. Some, giggling, covered their faces and some turned away and then turned back, smiling shyly at the camera.<\/p>\n
When she turned around to face him the rims under her eyes were moist with perspiration.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d she said with a faint smile.<\/p>\n
That was the first time he had heard her voice since the night they spent in the forest hut without the knowledge of her sexually impotent husband. It had been over a month.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ve never thought I\u2019d see you out here again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have to be out here,\u201d she said, putting the cover back on the lens. \u201cOr I\u2019d go insane.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019d kept you back in?\u201d<\/p>\n
She tugged at the camera strap, her eyes wavering for just one brief moment. \u201cI must keep peace in my family, especially with my husband. And he\u2019s been under much stress lately.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean his health.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat too.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded. \u201cBecause of your trip?\u201d<\/p>\n
Her gaze fell in his. Her graceful almond-shaped eyes that held much of her unspoken thoughts, at times hard with dogged determination, at times soft, alluring. He lowered his voice, \u201cDid he ever ask what you\u2019d done up there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes?\u201d his voice shot up and immediately he said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be alarmed. I told him the business part\u2015not the\u00a0 other part.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBetween us?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt must\u2019ve been hard on you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t worry for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her even tone and her stony face threw him off balance. He looked down at his feet and back at her. \u201cIt\u2019s good to see you again,\u201d he said with difficulty.<\/p>\n
\u201cMe too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat brought you out this way?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBusiness.\u201d She glanced toward the women busy at work in the parsnip field. \u201cI\u2019m putting together a portfolio for our business development with outside investors.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re an entrepreneur now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I have been. My husband is my principal partner and advisor.\u201d<\/p>\n
He\u2019d often thought of the consequence of their act in that hut, driven by her own choice to have a child for her husband. The thought of seeing her carry a child had troubled him, how painful it would be should it become a reality. Now, standing face to face with her, he couldn\u2019t find words for it.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to walk you back?\u201d he said finally. \u201cIt\u2019s a long way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks. But don\u2019t bother. The car\u2019s waiting for me.\u201d She motioned with her head toward the outside road behind the backdunes, linked to the swale by a flagstone walkway.<\/p>\n
He squinted his eyes toward the road and saw the tail end of the black Mercedes parked on the roadside. \u201cWell,\u201d he said, dropping his voice, \u201cI hope to see you around.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned and took the walkway and headed out to the road.<\/p>\n
s s s<\/p>\n
For two weeks he did not see her again. Then one evening after dinner, having gone back to his room and sat down on the bed and taken off his shirt, ready for a night bath, he heard a knock on the door. He flung the shirt over his shoulder as he opened the door. On the dark veranda she was standing, arms folded on her chest, back turned toward him, gazing at the grove of sea almond trees.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d he called out to her.<\/p>\n
She turned around. \u201cCan I come in,\u201d she said, barely loud enough for him to hear.<\/p>\n
He stepped back to let her in and closed the door. In the cage hung from a ceiling hook, the myna croaked, \u201cHello guest!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHello there,\u201d she said, touching the cage as the bird tilted its head to regard her. Then she spoke without looking at him, \u201cHe must be speaking very well by now, am I right?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat he likes to do is birdcalls. He\u2019s alone by himself most of the time so he picks up anything he hears from outside.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPoor little one.\u201d<\/p>\n
He draped the cage with his shirt and then brought the only chair he had and placed it in the center of the room under the naked light bulb in the ceiling. Then, after she sat down, he stood around, his hands jammed in his pants pockets, and then slowly sat down on the edge of his narrow bed. She was still in her business suit, single-breasted navy-blue gabardine and cuffed pants legs, and the air had a scent of her perfume, which he remembered well.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope you\u2019ve been fine,\u201d she said, her hands clasped in her lap.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have no complaint. How\u2019ve you been?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay.\u201d She nodded then brushed back a strand of hair that had slipped down on her forehead. \u201cI found out yesterday that I\u2019m pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something very cold went through him and he shivered in his bare torso. He simply nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve thought I was at one point,\u201d she said, holding in her breath and then slowly exhaling. \u201cBut I wasn\u2019t positive of it till yesterday when our physician confirmed it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He wondered if their personal doctor knew, too, of the truth of her pregnancy. He felt overwhelmed. She ran her fingers through her hair. Her jacket sleeves stopped just at the wrists, where they revealed the white cuffs of her shirt. She lowered her gaze at his bare torso and then looked up into his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to tell you something, she said, and I want you to be ready for it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t stay here any longer.\u201d<\/p>\n
He slumped and then immediately straightened his back. \u201cI hear you,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou rarely ask questions, I notice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think my questions would change anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t even want to know the reason, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n
He fixed his gaze on her face. The hollow in him was so desolate he saw her face like just another face. Then he saw in those almond-shaped eyes the sorrow he had sought words for. He knew he loved her. More than ever. He nodded. \u201cYeah. I want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe won\u2019t tolerate your presence around here when I tell him. The father of my unborn child.\u201d<\/p>\n
Again he nodded. Then words came to him. \u201cI think I know how he would\u2019ve felt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you? And do you know how I feel?\u201d<\/p>\n
He crimped his lips. \u201cI wish I knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI must live with the guilt that I\u2019ve put you through all this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that all?\u201d<\/p>\n
She pursed her lips like she was stuck with thoughts. Then she let out a deep sigh.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have no feeling for me?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d Her voice was nearly inaudible. \u201cMust I speak it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s what I thought,\u201d he said, hearing the muted pain in her voice and feeling the weight of her sorrow.<\/p>\n
She looked down at the linoleum floor, sighed, and looked back up at him. \u201cYou must leave tomorrow morning. Your foreman will drive you into town. Once I tell him tonight, my husband would want you out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can leave any time. I\u2019m more worried about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI can take care of myself. May I ask where you\u2019ll be headed to?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d He smiled. \u201cI wish I knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that the truth?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI never lie. At least that\u2019s what we have in common.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly that much?\u201d Her eyes were half closed with the familiar softness he knew well.<\/p>\n
He drew a deep breath. \u201cSometimes,\u201d he said, \u201cwhat isn\u2019t said says a lot more.\u201d<\/p>\n
s s s<\/p>\n
It was past evening now and, after his bath, he went to the barn and saddled the quarter horse. Her stallion wasn\u2019t in its stall. He led the horse out of the stable and down the gravel walk to the gate. As he opened the gate, standing in the cold silver illumination the lamps cast about him, he looked up toward the second-floor veranda where the railing etched quietly in white against the night. Her husband in the wheelchair wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
Night dew had wet the sand, and the water in the pond by the parsnip field looked pale in the moonlight. Toads croaked, their throaty calls echoing in the swale. He stood the horse and gazed at the field. Gone now were the breathtaking yellow flowers that dotted the field like myriad butterflies fluttering. Now the stalks, slender and broken, had browned, and the stubbled field was sterile looking. The horse lowered its head to nip at the stalks. Paperlike seeds lay scattered on the ground, and in the stalks fireflies blinked and the field seemed to be speaking to any soul that understood its soundless voice.<\/p>\n
He rode along the dirt path toward the lighthouse and up the slope, cresting it under the peaceful creamy moonlight that bathed the sea, the dunes. In the breeze the whistling pines smelled of dried cones now lying like well-worn rocks among a mat of rusty red needles. When they shed and had paved the ground thickly, hamlet children would come and rake them and bag them for firewood. The air then reeked of a pleasant odor.<\/p>\n
The sea was calm and high tide was a long time coming. He rode down the slope through a patch of goat\u2019s foot vine, the horse snorting heavily, kicking up sand as they crossed a long, long tract carpeted with evening primrose flowering pink and white, and among them dune sunflowers rose tall and yellow as the moon. Sea breeze brought their heady scents so thick he had to breathe through his mouth to clear his head.<\/p>\n
The horse found its footing along the rocky shore and up the slope screened with tall sea oats, trotting between clumps of prickly pear cactus and saw palmetto till it reached the hard ground around the lighthouse. He patted the horse and walked up to the tin-roofed house where the keeper lived. The sand felt rough between his toes in his sandals, the congongrass scissoring his calves with their sharp blades. There was no light inside. He stood by the cane chair and remembered the old man, the red fox. He didn\u2019t want to wake him up just to say goodbye.<\/p>\n
Wolf spiders were now coming out of their burrows in the sand where the horse stood grazing. He watched them push out the tiny pebbles they plugged their holes with against floodwater. He turned the horse back, heeled it hard and it took off like a crazed horse. He could feel the breeze warm and dry on his face and the wet sound the hooves made on the damp sand and the waves lapping the shore endlessly. He was riding hard till he saw farther up the shore her white horse standing on the watermark the waves left, and up on the sand she was sitting, her knees drawn up to her chin, her hands hugging her knees.<\/p>\n
When he reined up he couldn\u2019t hear his own breathing for the heavy snorting of his horse. He got down.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d he said as he took off his sandals and stood holding them in his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cHi,\u201d she said, lowering her head to rest her chin on her knees. She was barefoot in her tight blue jeans. The breeze fluttered the loose sleeves of her white T-shirt.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought you\u2019d never come out this way again,\u201d he said, standing in one place as his horse found its friend and now stood side by side with the stallion.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought so too about you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, looks like we have to say goodbye one more time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOne more time, yes.\u201d She didn\u2019t brush back the stray hair the breeze left tangled on her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted to say goodbye to the old man keeper but he was asleep.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMost people have gone to bed now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI kinda wished that you\u2019d be out here. But, well, I also wished that you wouldn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
That drew a faint smile from her. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know why. Maybe it\u2019d be very hard to say goodbye again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI imagine so.\u201d Then she gazed up at him. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you sit down with me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He placed his sand-coated sandals between his feet, sitting with his arms cradling his knees next to her. The breeze brought an herbal fragrance from her hair and suddenly he felt lightheaded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s the little guy doing,\u201d he asked without looking at her. She had told him the autistic boy was the son of her husband and his now deceased wife. After his wife died and before he remarried her, twenty-five years his junior, some sickness has left him sexually powerless.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s fine,\u201d she said. \u201cI don\u2019t know what to tell him when he notices that you\u2019re gone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow could you tell that he could tell?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou want me to give him the myna?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. If there\u2019s someone you want to give it to, it\u2019s me.\u201d She smiled a gentle smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen it\u2019s yours. It can say your name very clearly. It said where\u2019s Ly now after you left tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, keep it. I don\u2019t want it to remind me of something that\u2019d haunt me thinking about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gazed out toward the distant mud flats, dark and shimmering. The blind man wasn\u2019t in sight. The first time he knew about the blind man, he was riding on the beach with her and she raised her arm and pointed toward a small human figure, slumped and pale in the moonlight, working on a sand flat halfway between them and the bonfire. The figure moved a hand net along the wet sand, a basket hoisted on the hip. \u201cSee that person?\u201d she said. \u201cHe\u2019s blind.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s from the hamlet. Born blind. He picks clams and fish, those dropped by fishing nets when they haul them out of the boats in the late afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess he never needs no light on the beach to do what he does.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Just have to be aware of the tide cycle and the moon cycle. You don\u2019t want to be swept away by high tide when you\u2019re out here by yourself at night. He told me every night he goes out and away from the hamlet as far as he could, till his ears could no longer pick up any sound, human and dogs, from the hamlet. He did get lost sometimes though. Told me when that happened he had to rely on his nose to smell the wind, even use his tongue to test the wind to find his way back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Now she caught him gazing and said, \u201cWhat\u2019s out there?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess I wouldn\u2019t see him again before I leave tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe blind man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019d be late when he\u2019s out there during high tide.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes I caught fish out that way and just threw em back in the water cause he wasn\u2019t there.\u201d Then he shook his head. \u201cHis is a different world.\u201d<\/p>\n
She broke her gaze with a nod of her head. \u201cOurs too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou and me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour world and mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what I often wish for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re a man of few words so I\u2019d be delighted to hear.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat when I met you, you\u2019re just an ordinary girl from a poor home like me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat made you think that would work out for you and me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d have nothing to give up for.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve never said you love me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked into her eyes, gentle and demure, and in that moment he saw the graceful softness that had melted his heart once and again. \u201cI love you,\u201d he said. \u201cBut it\u2019s never easy for me to say it.\u201d<\/p>\n
She leaned her forehead against his and, her eyes closed, touched his face with her hand. \u201cDo you regret that you met me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d He tried to smile. \u201cI learned from you to like surprises.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you really?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you regret it?\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head and put her finger on his lips. Her tearstained face felt cold against his and the fragrance of her hair brought him the very name of sorrow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u201cCan I come in,\u201d she said…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2827","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2827","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2827"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2827\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2899,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2827\/revisions\/2899"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2827"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2827"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ducts.sundresspublications.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2827"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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<\/a><\/p>\n