Read Online Daniel Hecht_Cree Black 02 by Land of Echoes - Free Book Online
Authors: Land of Echoes
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want
to argue about the right metaphor. I miss you. I want to see you. I've been checking the days off my calendar!"
She accepted his chastening, letting a silence give them some distance from their dissonance. "What kind of big plans?" she
asked at last.
"Frankly, very sexy plans that involved superb wine, candlelight, and good music on the stereo. As well as tickets to a couple
of jazz concerts." There was still some reproach in his voice. "Jogging together up at the lake in the morning. Dinner at
Antoine's. Then some more of the wine and candlelight thing."
She thought of his bed in the tall room with its lazy ceiling fan; the fascinating scent of his pillows, his smell overlaid
on clean linen. He had a wonderful body and a sweet physicality, and the urgency was there for both of them. But it hadn't
been easy, either the first time she'd returned or her second visit in midsummer. She'd felt so inexperienced, so confused
by her memories of Mike's body and the lovemaking they'd shared so long ago—a sense of betrayal that she had to fight off.
And Paul had been a man in disarray after his shocking experience in Lafayette Cemetery; she suspected part of him feared
her, as the agent of his shattering transformation—maybe something of what she felt around Mason Ambrose.
And still it had been sweet. Enough to make her ache, thinking about him now.
"That sounds splendid," she said shyly. "I had the same general plan."
He sighed. "So it's a crisis. And it's a case that promises to be instructive?"
"Yes."
"You want to tell me about it?"
"I can't. I don't know enough yet, and if I did it'd be confidential. I'll tell you when I can, I promise."
"Just tell me which way we're going here, Cree. Forward or backward?"
"Forward," she said immediately. "Of course, Paul!" But who really knew where it would go? It was so new. Untested, uncertain.
They were not at the stage where either could say with absolute conviction, with the sweet release that came of confession,
"I love you." And while distance could obstruct the path of love, raising doubts that were unwarranted, it could also nurture
false hopes and illusions that more sustained contact might set straight.
"Forward!" he cried. A cavalry charge.
She laughed with him, and her doubts receded a bit. They talked about other things. Paul said he'd work on his calendar and
let her know when to make reservations. She told him about the conference, about Albuquerque. After a while the sense of intimacy
grew, and the plastic phone became more and more a frustrating impediment. Phones required talk, and talk required thought,
and there were times when rationality was simply not the right process. Reason was based on inquiry, and inquiry was based
on doubt, and doubt was not good for building something between a man and a woman. Your body was often so much wiser.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Long-distance relationships," Cree said. "Miserable, huh?"
"All relationships are long-distance," he told her.
She was still awake when the front desk called to tell her that a package had arrived for her. When they sent it up, she found
it was an overstuffed manila envelope from Mason, with a terse note scrawled on the front: Some materials you might find useful.
She opened it to find a two-inch stack of photocopied articles about possession. The top page featured a medieval woodcut
of some saint exorcising a naked victim who lay on the ground with a snake or worm coiling endlessly out of his mouth.
She read through the first few pages, a historical survey of possession compiled by somebody or other. Typically, symptoms
came in cycles, periods of normalcy giving way to "fits" in which the victim fell down, went into convulsions, made contorted
movements, screamed and shrieked, "displayed a frightening and horrible countenance" that often included an alarmingly extended
tongue. Other classical symptoms: vomiting up strange objects such as
to argue about the right metaphor. I miss you. I want to see you. I've been checking the days off my calendar!"
She accepted his chastening, letting a silence give them some distance from their dissonance. "What kind of big plans?" she
asked at last.
"Frankly, very sexy plans that involved superb wine, candlelight, and good music on the stereo. As well as tickets to a couple
of jazz concerts." There was still some reproach in his voice. "Jogging together up at the lake in the morning. Dinner at
Antoine's. Then some more of the wine and candlelight thing."
She thought of his bed in the tall room with its lazy ceiling fan; the fascinating scent of his pillows, his smell overlaid
on clean linen. He had a wonderful body and a sweet physicality, and the urgency was there for both of them. But it hadn't
been easy, either the first time she'd returned or her second visit in midsummer. She'd felt so inexperienced, so confused
by her memories of Mike's body and the lovemaking they'd shared so long ago—a sense of betrayal that she had to fight off.
And Paul had been a man in disarray after his shocking experience in Lafayette Cemetery; she suspected part of him feared
her, as the agent of his shattering transformation—maybe something of what she felt around Mason Ambrose.
And still it had been sweet. Enough to make her ache, thinking about him now.
"That sounds splendid," she said shyly. "I had the same general plan."
He sighed. "So it's a crisis. And it's a case that promises to be instructive?"
"Yes."
"You want to tell me about it?"
"I can't. I don't know enough yet, and if I did it'd be confidential. I'll tell you when I can, I promise."
"Just tell me which way we're going here, Cree. Forward or backward?"
"Forward," she said immediately. "Of course, Paul!" But who really knew where it would go? It was so new. Untested, uncertain.
They were not at the stage where either could say with absolute conviction, with the sweet release that came of confession,
"I love you." And while distance could obstruct the path of love, raising doubts that were unwarranted, it could also nurture
false hopes and illusions that more sustained contact might set straight.
"Forward!" he cried. A cavalry charge.
She laughed with him, and her doubts receded a bit. They talked about other things. Paul said he'd work on his calendar and
let her know when to make reservations. She told him about the conference, about Albuquerque. After a while the sense of intimacy
grew, and the plastic phone became more and more a frustrating impediment. Phones required talk, and talk required thought,
and there were times when rationality was simply not the right process. Reason was based on inquiry, and inquiry was based
on doubt, and doubt was not good for building something between a man and a woman. Your body was often so much wiser.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Long-distance relationships," Cree said. "Miserable, huh?"
"All relationships are long-distance," he told her.
She was still awake when the front desk called to tell her that a package had arrived for her. When they sent it up, she found
it was an overstuffed manila envelope from Mason, with a terse note scrawled on the front: Some materials you might find useful.
She opened it to find a two-inch stack of photocopied articles about possession. The top page featured a medieval woodcut
of some saint exorcising a naked victim who lay on the ground with a snake or worm coiling endlessly out of his mouth.
She read through the first few pages, a historical survey of possession compiled by somebody or other. Typically, symptoms
came in cycles, periods of normalcy giving way to "fits" in which the victim fell down, went into convulsions, made contorted
movements, screamed and shrieked, "displayed a frightening and horrible countenance" that often included an alarmingly extended
tongue. Other classical symptoms: vomiting up strange objects such as
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