Riders In The Sky Part 57

"You see the postcard from John?" Star asks, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the yard.

"Yeah. Where's Alaska?"

"You know, dope. Up by the North Pole."

"But it's cold up there all the time."

"Bow, come on, use your head, I think that's the point."

Moonbow thinks about it and shrugs. If Mr. Bannock wants to freeze all year round, that's his problem. It must be hard moving through all that snow in a wheelchair, and she hopes he's okay. Lisse is with him, but still... that's a long way to go just to get away from all the heat.

They haven't heard from Reed at all, not since Reverend Baylor buried Cora behind the church.

There were a lot of funerals for a really long time. She's glad they're all over. They really depressed her, even when Momma took them to funerals for people they didn't know.

"They were friends of Casey's," she'd say, "and we owe them that much."

They pace and wait, pace and wait.

"Star?"

"Yeah?"

"You think Reverend Chisholm's ever coming back?"

"I don't know."

"I, uh, kind of miss him."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Do you think he's still with Lady-I mean, Beatrice?"

Star grins at her. "What do you think?"

She grins back. "Okay, that was a silly question."

Pace and wait, pace and wait.

Actually, Moonbow thinks, it hasn't been all bad since that night. There's the house, and they went to a wedding for that lady, Ronnie, and her boyfriend they found nearly frozen to death on the Hook. And they were there when the sheriff found that drunk guy sitting in a tree, too scared to climb down and yelling about birds trying to peck him to death, and it turned out to be this monster parrot named Pegleg, who'd gotten out of his cage when the tidal wave or whatever came through Camoret. And John learned that he might not be paralyzed all his life. And the school was okay. And Momma got a job working for that lady, Ronnie, putting some newspaper thing back together.

So it wasn't all bad.

She stops and looks down the road.

Not yet, anyway; not yet.

**Come on, Momma," she whispers. "Come on, hurry up."

And suddenly, there it is, there's the car, and Star starts jumping in place, not acting like a teenager at all, and Moonbow giggles at her, and before she knows it they're trying to pinch each other's arms, and Momma's out of the car, her hands on her hips. Staring at them until they stop.

"Sorry, Momma," Starshine says.

"Sorry," Moonbow mutters.

Then they look at each other, and laugh, and run up to their mother and block her way to the house.

"Girls," Jude says sternly, a bag of groceries cradled in one arm.

"Now, Momma," Starshine insists. "We can't wait one more second. You promised, so do it now."

The promise had been made while they'd waited for the boats to take them off that island. She had told them then what Reverend Chisholm had said and done, but she wouldn't show them because she'd been afraid to look herself.

"Time," she had said. "I promise you, in time."

Starshine tries a nasty frown, then, to hurry things along; Moonbow does, too, but it ends up like a pout.

Jude moves as if she is going to walk through them, then lowers her head in defeat and puts the bag in the car. She tells them, she swears to them that she hasn't looked herself. She calls herself a coward; she wants to believe, but she's a coward. She's afraid.

"That's okay, Momma," Star says, her eyes turning red. "That's okay." Her voice softens. "Come on, Momma, come on."

Suddenly, Moonbow doesn't want to look. She doesn't cover her eyes, but she doesn't want to look. Instead she stares intently at the ground while Momma kneels in the road in front of them and takes hold of the bottom of the weighted veil she wears.

Starshine takes a deep breath.

Moonbow still can't look.

But she knows when the veil is off; she doesn't know how, she just does.

Momma sounds like a little girl when finally she says, her voice shaking, "Well?"

Moonbow counts to ten, to twenty, and slowly lifts her head. Looks at her mother, looks at her sister, whose hands cover her gaping mouth.

"Well?" Jude asks again, sounding terribly afraid.

And Moonbow says solemnly, "I told you she was an angel."

2.

On the slope of a gentle hill in eastern Tennessee there are trees, and soft light, and a small parade of graves.

Casey kneels by one and brushes leaves and dirt away, leans back on his heels and says, "h.e.l.lo, Momma, how're you doing? I've brought someone to meet you."

A hand on his shoulder he covers with his own; "She's kind of strange, Momma, and she talks a little funny, but you know, I think you two would have gotten along real well." He bows his head, bites his cheek; this isn't turning out the way he wanted. "I... I probably won't be back for a while. We, that is, Bea and I, we have some places we have to visit. Her idea, not mine."

The hand boxes his ear lightly, and he ducks his head and grins. And sobers.

"There's still fighting, Momma, and there's still people getting sick, and being hungry. You know what that means, and Bea says we have to go to those places. Find the ones who are special, and... help them."

He lifts the cross that hangs on his breast, kisses it, touches a finger to it, and puts the finger on the headstone and makes the sign of the cross.

"Good-bye, Momma. I love you."

And walks away, doesn't look back, looks instead over the valley that swirls and grows in mist.

At the middle of the slope he stops, and he stands there for a long time, knowing it's much too soon, but listens for the birds anyway, listens for the songs he won't hear for much too long.

A giant of a man, dressed in black, with a white collar.

"Beatrice," he says, and clears his throat and tries again. "Beatrice, you made me a promise. I want you to keep it before we go."

At his side she takes his hand in both of hers and lifts it to her lips. A light kiss. A feather kiss. A gentle tugging until he looks down. He doesn't smile until she does, and when he does, she laughs.

"You're just not going to tell me, are you?" he says, deepening his voice, feigning menace, but resigned all the same. When she gives him a teasing smile, a teasing shrug, he gives her in return a ma.s.sive keening sigh-okay, I surrender, but be warned, not for long. He'll find out eventually, he knows he will; nevertheless, as he hugs her and holds her and enjoys the valley one last time, he can't help a whisper: "Who are you?"

One last time.

end.