seemed an unnecessary precaution. The dead were surely secure, beneath their memorial stones. More likely the walls were the mourners’ way to keep the dead from having power over them. Within those gates the ground was sacred to the departed, tended in their name. Outside, the world belonged to the living, who had nothing left to learn from those they’d lost.
She was not so arrogant. There was much she wanted to say to the dead tonight; and much to hear. That was the pity of it.
She returned to the car oddly exhilarated. It was only once the doors were locked and the engine running that Sheryl said:
‘There’s been somebody watching us.’
‘You sure?’
‘I swear. I saw him just as I got to the car.’
She was rubbing her breasts vigorously. ‘Jesus, my nipples get numb when I’m cold.’
‘What did he look like?’ Lori said.
Sheryl shrugged. ‘Too dark to see,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t matter now. Like you said, we won’t be coming back here again.’
True, Lori thought. They could drive away down a straight road and never look back. Maybe the deceased citizens of Midian envied them that, behind their fortress walls.
IX
Touched
1
I t wasn’t difficult to choose their accommodation in Shere Neck; there were only two places available, and one was already full to brimming with buyers and sellers for a farm machinery sale that had just taken place, some of the spillage occupying the rooms at the other establishment: the Sweetgrass Inn. Had it not been for Sheryl’s way with a smile they might have been turned away from there too; but after some debate a twin-bedded room was found that they could share. It was plain, but comfortable.
‘You know what my mother used to tell me?’ said Sheryl, as she unpacked her toiletries in the bathroom.
‘What?’
‘She used to say: there’s a man out there for you, Sheryl; he’s walking around with your name on. Mind you this is from a woman who’s been looking for her particular man for thirty years and never found him. But she was always stuck on this romantic notion. You know, the man of your dreams is just around the next corner. And she stuck me on it too, damn her.’
‘Still?’
‘Oh yeah. I’m still looking. You’d think I’d know better, after what I’ve been through. You want to shower first?’
‘No. You go ahead.’
A party had started up in the next room, the walls too thin to muffle much of the noise. While Sheryl took her shower Lori lay on the bed and turned the events of the day over in her head. The exercise didn’t last long. The next thing she knew she was being stirred from sleep by Sheryl, who’d showered and was ready for a night on the town.
‘You coming?’ she wanted to know.
‘I’m too tired,’ Lori said. ‘You go have a good time.’
‘If there’s a good time to be had –’ said Sheryl ruefully.
‘You’ll find it,’ Lori said. ‘Give ’em something to talk about.’
Sheryl promised she would, and left Lori to rest, but the edge had been taken off her fatigue. She could do no more than doze, and even that was interrupted at intervals by loud bursts of drunken hilarity from the adjacent room.
She got up to go in search of a soda machine and ice, returning with her calorie-free nightcap to a less than peaceful bed. She’d take a leisurely bathe, she decided, until drink or fatigue quieted the neighbours. Immersed to her neck in hot water she felt her muscles unknotting themselves, and by the time she emerged she felt a good deal mellower. The bathroom had no extractor, so both the mirrors had steamed up. She was grateful for their discretion. The catalogue of her frailties was quite long enough without another round of self-scrutiny to swell it. Her neck was too thick, her face too thin, her eyes too large, her nose too small. In essence she was one excess upon another, and any attempt on her part to undo the damage merely exacerbated it. Her hair, which she grew long to cover the sins of her neck,
She was not so arrogant. There was much she wanted to say to the dead tonight; and much to hear. That was the pity of it.
She returned to the car oddly exhilarated. It was only once the doors were locked and the engine running that Sheryl said:
‘There’s been somebody watching us.’
‘You sure?’
‘I swear. I saw him just as I got to the car.’
She was rubbing her breasts vigorously. ‘Jesus, my nipples get numb when I’m cold.’
‘What did he look like?’ Lori said.
Sheryl shrugged. ‘Too dark to see,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t matter now. Like you said, we won’t be coming back here again.’
True, Lori thought. They could drive away down a straight road and never look back. Maybe the deceased citizens of Midian envied them that, behind their fortress walls.
IX
Touched
1
I t wasn’t difficult to choose their accommodation in Shere Neck; there were only two places available, and one was already full to brimming with buyers and sellers for a farm machinery sale that had just taken place, some of the spillage occupying the rooms at the other establishment: the Sweetgrass Inn. Had it not been for Sheryl’s way with a smile they might have been turned away from there too; but after some debate a twin-bedded room was found that they could share. It was plain, but comfortable.
‘You know what my mother used to tell me?’ said Sheryl, as she unpacked her toiletries in the bathroom.
‘What?’
‘She used to say: there’s a man out there for you, Sheryl; he’s walking around with your name on. Mind you this is from a woman who’s been looking for her particular man for thirty years and never found him. But she was always stuck on this romantic notion. You know, the man of your dreams is just around the next corner. And she stuck me on it too, damn her.’
‘Still?’
‘Oh yeah. I’m still looking. You’d think I’d know better, after what I’ve been through. You want to shower first?’
‘No. You go ahead.’
A party had started up in the next room, the walls too thin to muffle much of the noise. While Sheryl took her shower Lori lay on the bed and turned the events of the day over in her head. The exercise didn’t last long. The next thing she knew she was being stirred from sleep by Sheryl, who’d showered and was ready for a night on the town.
‘You coming?’ she wanted to know.
‘I’m too tired,’ Lori said. ‘You go have a good time.’
‘If there’s a good time to be had –’ said Sheryl ruefully.
‘You’ll find it,’ Lori said. ‘Give ’em something to talk about.’
Sheryl promised she would, and left Lori to rest, but the edge had been taken off her fatigue. She could do no more than doze, and even that was interrupted at intervals by loud bursts of drunken hilarity from the adjacent room.
She got up to go in search of a soda machine and ice, returning with her calorie-free nightcap to a less than peaceful bed. She’d take a leisurely bathe, she decided, until drink or fatigue quieted the neighbours. Immersed to her neck in hot water she felt her muscles unknotting themselves, and by the time she emerged she felt a good deal mellower. The bathroom had no extractor, so both the mirrors had steamed up. She was grateful for their discretion. The catalogue of her frailties was quite long enough without another round of self-scrutiny to swell it. Her neck was too thick, her face too thin, her eyes too large, her nose too small. In essence she was one excess upon another, and any attempt on her part to undo the damage merely exacerbated it. Her hair, which she grew long to cover the sins of her neck,