by Penn Gates
There’s a smile in Nix’s voice when she says “All righty then - that’s better. No fair trying to suss out where we’re headed, or counting steps. Just concentrate on moving your legs.”
To Lisa, her voice is beginning to sound like a bee buzzing - just a low level hum in the background. Lisa smells machine oil as they step into the small outbuilding a short distance from the main house and it pulls her back a little from wherever she’s been.
“Okay,” Nix says suddenly. “You’ll need your eyes to get through the mad genius’s workshop - but no talking.”
Lisa’s lids fly open. “Where—” Just in time, she dodges an odd piece of equipment that looks like a giant mechanical rake.
Nix opens a door at the very back of the shop. “C’mon,” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears through it.
As Lisa follows, she glances around curiously. The room behind the workshop is spacious and full of light from large windows across the back wall. Someone has taken pains to make it comfortable - there’s a double bed in one corner and two old stuffed chairs grouped around a potbellied stove.
Nix opens the door of the stove, which looks cold and lifeless. She shoves a crumpled piece of paper beneath a small teepee of sticks already set up for the next fire. The paper flares and the sticks begin to burn immediately.
“Take a load off,” Nix tells Lisa. “I’m just gonna shove a couple logs into this sucker and we’ll be warm in a few minutes.”
“What is this place?” Lisa asks. She holds up her hand. “Never mind. I’m ruining my trance state.”
“This is the only place where Cash and I have any privacy,” Nix says. “We spend the summers out here.” She slams the stove door shut. “And don’t worry. I wanted to see if you could let go - and you did. So you can do it again.”
She drops into the more threadbare of the two chairs. “Why are you still standing?”
Lisa is surprised at how comfortable the second armchair is for all its disreputable appearance.
“Put your head back and shut your eyes again - and no more talking,” Nix tells her. “Let go - like you did on the walk out here - only this time I’ll be taking you for an imaginary stroll. Relax, and let me guide you.”
Lisa nods her head and realizes she’s feeling sort of - sleepy.
“When I ask a question,” Nix drones, “Just tell me what you see on the back of your eyelids.”
“W-what?”
“Stop asking questions for once in your life and listen: You’re in your apartment in Atlanta and you’re waking up early in the morning,” Nix whispers. “What’s the first thing you do when you get out of bed?”
“I pee,” Lisa says like a small child.
Nix laughs softly. “Then what?”
“Coffee.”
“How does the kitchen look?”
“Small - bright,” Lisa yawns. “Too much sunshine.”
“Maybe you should close the blinds,” Nix suggests. “But while you’re at it, take a look outside and tell me what you see.”
Some part of Lisa is surprised at how vividly she can picture the scene. Another part watches her own hands part the vinyl slats of the blind so she can peer through them. “There’s a lawn - and some shrubs on the other side with low buildings behind them.”
“Look over all that - up toward the horizon. What do you see now?”
“To my left - the CDC building where I work,” Lisa murmurs.
“Great. Now scan right - like you’re taking a video with your phone. What else can you see?”
Lisa wrinkles her nose. “The Fox Five TV broadcasting tower.”
“Just out of curiosity,” Nix says casually, “How far away would you say it is from where you work?”
“I can see people in their parking lot when I eat my lunch on the roof.”
“What’s in between?”
“Just vacant land - with small trees and weeds.”
“And you’re sure the station is right on the other side?”
Lisa nods in agreement. “I better get ready for work - I’ll be late,” she murmurs.
There’s no response.
Lisa’s eyes fly open. “Is that it?” she asks uncertainly.
Nix is looking pleased. Lisa can’t quite remember what she told her. The whole experience seems almost dream-like.
“You hypnotized me,” she says accusingly.
“If only - I could rule the world,” Nix laughs. “Or at least what’s left of it.”
She wanders over to the stove and shuts the door on the fire, which has burned down to glowing coals. “There’s no mystery to it, you know. It’s sort of like looking at a photo. When you stop staring at what the photographer wants you to focus on, you notice all kinds of fun shit in the background.”
“Listen Nix,” Lisa says. “I hope you’ll back me up on this - I’m not going anywhere until I see Janet married.”
“No worries. We’ll turn the wedding prep over to Margaret - and Brittany. Margaret’s an organizational genius and Brittany - well, Brit is Bridezilla when it comes to that sort of crap.”
“Lucky for us,” she adds, “Because right now we’ve got to report back to mission control.”
They find Cash and Ed in the machine shed, tinkering with the old Triumph motorcycle.
“This thing is a classic, bro,” Hatfield says enthusiastically.
“Never mind the motor porn right now,” Nix interrupts. “I’ve got intel on Atlanta - and you’re gonna love it.”
“Well Halle-fuckin-lujah!” Cash says after listening to a summary of the facts. “Proximity to our target and a snipers’ nest. Couldn’t ask for anything more.” He glances at Holden. “I think we’ve got a plan. What do you say?”
“All the ingredients are there,” Holden says. “Let’s bake the cake.”
Cash does some calculating. “What do you say? Day after tomorrow? We can pull it together by then.”
“Well, thank God for that,” Nix says, jumping in ahead of Lisa. “Because we got a wedding to go to tomorrow evening.”
“Anybody I know?” Cash deadpans.
“Are you angling for an invitation?” Nix asks. “Because if you play your cards right, you can be my plus one.” She sticks out her tongue at him and hustles Lisa toward the house to find Margaret and Brittany.
CHAPTER 33: Beginnings And Endings
It’s Nix who remembers the old Grange Hall. Its name sounds antique and lovely, but it turns out to be plain as a cardboard box, its walls adorned by just two pictures. One is a portrait of Calvin Coolidge, the other a faded photograph of its charter members, apparently taken in this very room. The place has no noticeable color - it’s the same drab sepia tone as the pictures. Wooden folding chairs sit in rows in front of a raised platform, still waiting for someone to appear behind the battered old lectern. It’s so perfectly preserved that Lisa would feel no surprise if those same Grange members filed in and demanded to know what she’s doing here.
Ever since her concussion, she’s periodically found herself spacing out like this, entranced by some whimsical thought that would never have occurred to her before. She checks surreptitiously to see if anyone has noticed her lapse.
Janet appears next to her and takes her by the arm. “I know you are dreaming of Atlanta, dear Lisa, but I am so grateful that you have postponed it for a day. “It would not seem right to me, getting married without you.”
“And you, dear Janet, saved my sanity, ” Lisa answers. “I was going crazy in a world of only men until you came along.”
They join the other women just in time to hear Brittany announce, “We’ve got to get some color going in here!” She claps her hands together like a school girl. “I’ll be in charge of the decorations.”
Janet erupts into a sneezing fit. “It is very dusty,” she wheezes.
“A broom and a mop will solve that problem,” Margaret points out and passes her a handkerchief. “This place has all that is required for our purpose.”
Powerless as ever over her own curiosity, Lisa says, “I have no idea what a ‘grange’ is.”
“It’s an old word for farmstead,” Nix answers. “Once upon a time all the farmers in the area would meet here and discuss - whatever the hell farmers discuss.” She trails off. “I hope that was helpful, doc. It’s all I got.”
Margaret stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the whole room. “It would be more helpful to wonder how long it will take to make this a useful space once again. We are not having much time.”
Now, one day later, Lisa stands in the musty-smelling vestibule of the Grange Hall, next to Janet. The girl is rigid with fear, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I am all of a sudden very frightened of doing this,” Janet whispers so quietly Lisa almost misses what she’s saying.
“Are you having second thoughts?” Lisa asks.
“What if I cannot be a good wife to him?”
Janet’s question hangs in the air between them, and Lisa knows she’s not talking about homemaking skills.
Lisa wraps a comforting arm around Janet’s shoulders. “Did you share with Tony how nervous you feel at the prospect of being intimate with him?”
Janet doesn’t meet Lisa’s eyes. “He said he is understanding why I feel that way and how hard it might be to - but he will love me, no matter what.” She sounds doubtful.
Lisa is doubtful, too. Does Tony Marcelli, with his need to take care of those around him, really understand what his future could be like? He’s kind and sympathetic, but he’s also very young. In the end, could he accept that sometimes, for those who have suffered severe trauma, love doesn’t conquer all?
There’s a sudden, bracing rush of cold air as Holden bursts through the front doors. “Sorry I’m late,” Ed says. “Last minute problem with packing.”
Ed and Lisa stare at each other for an infinite second, and everything they’ve shared seems to crackle in the air between them. Finally Holden tears his eyes away. He’s here, after all, to walk Janet down the aisle - at her request.
But when he shifts his attention to Janet, her white face and wide eyes tell him she’s scared out of her mind. Holden knows something about PTSD so he approaches the shaking girl slowly, taking care he doesn’t stand too close. Lisa steps back, giving the floor to him.
“Listen, Janet,” he says, “Nobody will blame you if you decide to turn around and walk out those doors. I’ll take you back to the house myself if you want to leave.”
“I - I could n-not do such a thing to Tony,” Janet manages to get out through chattering teeth.
Holden smiles reassuringly. “Sometimes guys with half a dozen missions under their belt freeze up on the seventh. Humans can only take so much - and it’s different for everybody. If you decide you’re not ready to do this, it’s not the end of the world. And I’ve known Tony for a long time. He’d understand.”
Janet doesn’t respond and Holden feels, rather than sees, Lisa glance at him nervously. The silence lengthens as the restlessness of the people waiting inside grows louder. He’s seen guys retreat somewhere deep inside of themselves and never come out again. And if that happens to Janet, it will destroy Marcelli - not because he won’t soldier on, but because Tony’s one of those guys - the kind who loves once and forever. What the hell can he say that will reach her before it’s too late?
He looks up and sees the same question in Lisa’s eyes. They both speak at the same time. “Janet, it’s okay—”
But Janet is speaking, too. “I have been thinking of that night - after the doktor did - what was needed - there was someone sitting with me in the dark, and he spoke comforting words to me over and over in a quiet voice. It was making me remember that my father would do the same to calm a frightened horse.”
“That’s a beautiful memory,” Lisa says quietly.
“I think I have been loving Tony ever since,” Janet says. “And I like kissing him very much,” she adds, blushing a little, but smiling, too.
“There you go then,” Holden tells her. “Trust and love. You can’t beat that pair.”
“I should not keep Tony waiting any longer,” Janet decides. “He will be worrying.”
Holden holds out his arm to the bride and she takes it without hesitation. He looks down at the girl clutching her small bouquet of white and yellow chrysanthemums. “Tony Marcelli is a lucky man. He found himself a woman who believes in him.”
“Just give me a few seconds’ head start,” Lisa says. “Until I get to my seat.” She kisses Janet’s cheek. “I’ll be right there in the front row.”
She darts into the hall, ignoring the murmurs on either side of the aisle as she rushes to her seat next to Nix. The stricken look on Tony’s face as he stands alone on the platform is painful to witness.
“Everybody find a seat,” Cash shouts over the babble of voices. “This shindig ain’t gonna start ’til things quiet down.” Silence falls immediately.
The wedding march begins to be played on an acoustic guitar and everyone rises and turns toward the back of the hall. Holden escorts Janet down the aisle, matching his pace to hers. He’s beaming like a proud older brother.
Tony is waiting on the platform, the picture of relief. As Janet gets closer, he regains his color and his composure. By the time he holds out his hand to her as she steps up to join him, the love in his eyes would melt a stone. The pair stare into each other’s faces for a moment - and to Lisa, that’s the moment they cease to be two people, and become something else. She can see it happening. They smile at each other and turn to face the crowd at exactly the same moment.
Tony clears his throat self-consciously. “Well - here we are,” he mutters. He seems to realize he’s speaking too softly and increases the volume. “Janet and I would never have met each other before Geezer.” He points to himself, “An Italian American, raised Catholic—” then to Janet, “—and a Mennonite girl who was raised plain.” His smile is dazzling. “Go figure!”
Janet laughs softly and nods in agreement. This seems to encourage Tony to continue. “I’m pretty sure that either of those religions taught that a priest or a preacher had to say the right words over a couple to make a marriage real - and legal.”
Tony smiles down at Janet. “Around here, we’re the first couple to tie the knot this way, and I gotta confess that at first the idea seemed strange. But the more I thought about it - well, there’s always been people who believe God can speak to us without using an interpreter. It just makes sense we can speak directly to Him, too - because, I mean - He already knows what’s in our hearts.”
Lisa can’t help wondering what George Shirk would think of this explanation - and apparently so does Nix - because Lisa feels a nudge.
On the platform, Tony holds his open hand out to Janet, palm upward. “So, Janet Martin - I’m ready, if you are.”
Lisa hears Tony’s awareness of Janet’s doubts and fears. How much love does it take to offer an escape if that’s what she needs?
Janet places her hand in his with no hesitation. “Let us do this,” she says in a soft whisper that doesn’t carry much beyond the first row of chairs.
Clasping both her hands in his, Tony says solemnly, “Janet Martin, I swear in front of all the people of our community that I will love and respect you every day of the rest of our lives. I promise to be with you in good times - and stick with you through hard times. As God is my witness.”
Janet looks like she’s going to cry, and Lisa tenses, but then she sees that Janet is crying from happiness. “Tony Marcelli, I have been afraid I would never trust anyone again. But from the start, it is as if I have been knowing you my whole life. I am believing the Lord brought us together.” Janet reaches up and touches his cheek. “May I always be a wife worthy of you. As God is my witness.”
Tony bends forward and kisses her forehead. Lisa watches with a critical eye. It’s a gentle kiss, a chaste kiss. But there’s no doubt there’s passion, too. Lisa sends up a sort of free-floating prayer that the two fi
nd joy in each other’s arms.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Marcelli!” Holden calls and the Grange hall erupts into enthusiastic noise.
Lisa feels a warm glow as she joins in the applause - a fleeting sense of belonging. But it doesn’t last. Those around her know their roots are here now, no matter where they started out. She, on the other hand, will soon be leaping into the unknown - again.
Her thoughts are interrupted as the Shirk twins dart past, followed by an over-excited Martin.
Nix winces at his screeching laughter. “I love Martin to pieces,” she whispers to Lisa, “But that chalkboard voice of his drives me crazy.” She turns in her seat and, over Davey’s head, shoots her adopted son her most intimidating look. He immediately falls silent, pantomiming that he’s zipped his mouth shut. Nix flashes a thumbs up, and he beams back at her.
“Sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever settle down,” Nix sighs. “You think this hyper-activity could be part of the trauma? If I hadn’t happened to be on the same street at the same time—” For a second, Nix looks shaken. “Let’s just say the pack of hyenas who grabbed him had some nasty plans for the poor little guy.”
“Being safe and secure should eventually help him relax,” Lisa answers. But she remembers it was only when she’d learned how to handle a gun that most of her flashbacks disappeared.
“See - that’s a problem,” Nix tells her. “Each time Martin seems to—”
Whatever Nix was going to say is interrupted by Michael. “What?” she asks impatiently.
“Your chairs ares the only ones left to move,” he tells her. “Only you need to move first - unless you want me to get a couple of the guys to carry you.”
“I’d like that,” Nix says, “But the doctor embarrasses easily.”
Lisa is already blushing. The rest of the chairs have been pushed against the walls, and the two of them are surrounded by an empty expanse of floor. She moves hastily to a corner and watches an informal band set up on the platform. There’s a harmonica player, plus a guy who uses a makeshift group of pots and metal buckets as a stand-in for a drum set. Eric, the blond Viking, begins to strum a guitar that looks small in his big hands. The music produced is surprisingly good, if a little raucous for Lisa’s taste.
