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Scene #30
TREFOIL
NATHAN
When the woman stepped off the cemetery path, the weak
winter sunlight stroked her skin into a surreal luminosity, and I
knew if I drew her into the shadows she would still have a clear,
golden look to her that only immortals have—I should know. I
ground my molars, frustrated that small glimpses were all I had of
her, like looking through fog or a keyhole. Her skin was the image
that struck me first. My view shifted upward to her temple where
the wind lifted her thick mahogany hair, swirling it about a white
lily tucked behind her right ear. I inhaled her on the breeze.
Shifting again... light into dusk, dimmer now, but still
glistening. Through the keyhole I focused on the wetness of her
lower lip as she slid it between her teeth. A shudder wracked me
and I bolted upright on my bed, hands twisting the sheets. Sweat
soaked my forehead and neck. I had been dreaming, but the feelings
did not end. The air was palpitating, pulsing with these images of
her. When my view shifted again I was unprepared for the sight
of her back curving toward me, a rope of hair draped across a
shoulder and a tattoo zigzagging gently across her spine. My mouth
watered as I became desperate to press it against that tattoo,
knowing that when I did she would make the vital sound: a gasp.
Her voice wrecked me, renting a hole in my chest that only she
could fill. I bound from my bed and pressed my trembling hands
to my skull. Where? Where would I begin tracking her? I whirled
toward the window and looked into the moonless night. She was
waiting for me. She had Called to me, the woman with the flowering
vine of a tattoo. I jammed my feet into my abandoned shoes
and leaped out the open window into the night—running.
JOHN
The warm breeze transported the
ocean's salty tang into our room. Oahu brought conflicting
memories. On the choppy waters behind me loomed the terrible
memories, before me where Evelyn lay rumpled in sleep were the
beautiful ones. I had not lain in that bed two minutes before I'd
been haunted by dreams. The breeze caused the gauzy draperies
to shudder and Evelyn woke from her beautiful, innocent dreams.
She touched her forehead, brushing away a lock of hair that tumbled
into her eyes. I sighed with happiness that this morning of our
vacation was no different from any other. By the time her eyes
opened I was perched on the bed. "Evelyn," I said like a prayer
into her startling gray eyes, dark as the waves during a storm.
The corner of her mouth twitched into a sleepy smile. "Hi."
She held my head in her palms, drawing it to her. I lost myself
for a bit in her sweetness and when I resurfaced I felt more
hopeful that things would be okay. While Evelyn spent time
dressing, I fiddled with the excellent room service breakfast on
our small table. "John?" Her voice came muffled from the
bathroom. I knew without asking what she needed, as over sixty
years of practice had earned me this knowledge. "Yes, love?" I
opened the door to her exposed back as she waited for me to zip her
dress. I let my hands linger on the glorious tattoo along her
spine, leaning in to softly bite her neck. "John!" she said
impatiently. In a swift motion I pulled the zipper up and
turned her into my arms. "You're beautiful, as always." She still
blushed at my words, her eyes shyly downcast. In a snug little
lavender sheath dress, her femininity smoldered. Other men's eyes
would follow her every step today, I knew all too well. Women like
her didn't exist anymore. "Breakfast," I announced with a gallant
sweep of my arm. She crossed our suite to the beautifully
appointed table and I pulled out her chair. I couldn't resist
touching her waist as she passed. When I felt her stiffen, panic
swept me in its dark current, and I fumbled forward. Did she
remember? Would she stay? How could I go on if she turned from
me? I sank heavily into the seat opposite. Our eyes locked.
Hers were without shadow, and I exhaled in a relieved rush. No,
she didn't know. Yet, I qualified. She lifted the china teapot
and poured the spicy contents into my cup as I studied the delicate
turn of her wrist. "You've forgotten your bracelets," I noted.
"You're right." Her eyes flared, causing my heart to gallop out
of control again. Why, oh why, had I brought her here? "I'll get
them after breakfast. It smells wonderful," Evelyn said, shrugging
it off. She sipped her tea and leaned against the rattan chair
back. "What's on the agenda today? Beach?" she asked hopefully.
I replaced my cup on its saucer. "Perhaps later. This morning
I have something else in mind." Evelyn was silent during the
remainder of breakfast and I pondered her every move. Once again,
she was my calm and still water. "Let me get your sweater," I said
before we left the hotel room. She waved a hand at me. "Oh,
please. This is Hawaii. Who needs a sweater?" she said,
disappearing into the bathroom. When she emerged the silver cuffs
were on each wrist. My Evelyn again, I thought, and shuddered.
"Are you cold then?" she asked with concern, the pads of her
fingers pressed to my forehead. As if I could catch cold.
"Just ghosts walking over my grave," I blurted. Evelyn stilled
at that, and we spent two heartbeats reading each other's eyes.
Finally, she looped her hand through my arm and we went off in
search of those ghosts.
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