Anna To The Infinite Power

by Mildred Ames

  “Close your eyes again.” Once more Anna obeyed him as he began to play, very softly this time. “Can you still picture children?”

  “Yes. I could even describe what they’re wearing.”

  “Never mind what they’re wearing. What are they feeling?”

  In her head, Anna could see them romping, hear them laughing. “They’re having fun.”

  “How do they feel?”

  “Happy.” The music vibrated through her with a playful lilt that made her feel like laughing, too. “Joy -- they feel joyful.”

  When the sound faded away, Rowan asked, “How did you know that?”

  Anna stared at him now, feeling bewildered. “I don’t know -- maybe it was just obvious that laughing children would be happy.” She thought about it. “No, it was more. It was in the music. I could hear the happiness, feel the joy.”

  “Feel?”

  “Yes. In the music. I really could.” She thought Rowan looked pleased.

  “This is not only a game,” he said, “it’s an exercise. If you practice it enough I’ll bet anything your playing will improve. Try it on the piano now -- the same passage I played. Try to visualize those children at the same time and let’s see what you get.” Feeling doubtful, Anna ran her fingers over the keys, striking them in the same old mechanical way.

  “The children, the children! Think of the children!” he shouted.

  The children . . . Anna tried to picture them but found it harder now that she was playing as well as watching the notes. But you don’t have to look at the notes, she told herself. You know them perfectly well. Close your eyes. Let the picture form. Children -- laughing, running, frolicking children. It was coming. Yes, it was coming. Children. They were skipping through the music now. Happy. Joyful.

  When she finished, Rowan said, “That was better. I tell you what, Anna. We’ll take a half hour every afternoon and do the same thing with the rest of this movement. By the time you go back to Michaela’s, you’ll really surprise her.”

  Anna was overwhelmed. He had never before offered to do anything like that for her. “But how can you spare the time from your own practice?”

  “A half hour won’t matter that much. I’ll pretend I’m playing Pygmalion. By the end of the week you will be a completely transformed Galatea. Michaela will certainly be pleased.”

  Anna suddenly wondered if he was doing this to help her or to please Michaela. Or did it make any difference?

  16

  The following Saturday Rowan again stopped at Michaela’s to walk with Anna. Although he could hardly contain himself he waited until they were well away from the apartment before he asked, “Well, how did it go?”

  Anna giggled. “Oh, I just wish you could have been there. Michaela was really surprised. I breezed through the whole thing, and I was wonderful.”

  “Stop bragging.”

  “I’m not bragging. That’s what she said. She said, ‘Anna, that was wonderful.’ Of course she guessed that you’ve been helping me.”

  Rowan didn’t mind that at all. He had hoped to impress her. When you came right down to it, he had accomplished something with Anna that she hadn’t -- practically the impossible. He had a right to feel proud. In fact, he was feeling more than a little like God and enjoying the feeling. God may have made the heavens and the earth in six days, but Rowan had taken only seven to get a little sensitivity into Anna’s playing, surely the more formidable task of the two.

  Desert winds had made the winter day unusually hot and dry. As they let themselves into their apartment, Rowan felt very expansive. “You know what I’d like to do this afternoon?”

  “What?” Anna asked.

  “Go to the beach.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He knew what she meant. The beaches were overrun with gangs of hoodlums these days. You took your life in your hands to even venture near one. “I didn’t mean the regular beaches. I meant a place I know of that almost no one else goes to. One of the guys at the conservatory took me out there one day.”

  “The water would be too cold for swimming this time of year.”

  “We don’t have to go swimming. Instead of having lunch here, we could fix something to eat and have a picnic there.”

  “We?”

  She looked astounded, he thought. Maybe she didn’t like the idea of going someplace with him. “Why not we?”

  “Don’t you have to practice?”

  “I should, but, to tell you the truth, I feel all practiced out. Besides, there’ll be plenty of time for that before the next play-off recital. How about you? Is there anything you have to do this afternoon?”

  “Well, I -- well, no -- not really.”

  “What’s the matter, then? Don’t you want to go with me?”

  “It isn’t that. I’m just surprised. I mean, you’ve never asked me to go anyplace with you before.”

  That was almost embarrassingly true. “Well, I’m asking you now.”

  “Is it because you think I need cheering up? Or because I look pale? Everybody keeps asking me if I’m sick. Or maybe you just feel sorry for me.”

  “For God’s sake, Anna!” Now he was annoyed with her. The truth was it was because of all of those things, but he would never have admitted it to her. He felt irritated that she had sensed it. “Look, I said I wanted to go to the beach. I asked you if you wanted to go with me. Now why do you have to turn that into a court case? All you have to do is say yes or no.” If she didn’t want to go. why couldn’t she come right out and say so?

  “Yes,” Anna said.

  “If you don’t want to go, why can’t you just come right out and say -- ”

  “I said yes.”

  He stared at her dumbly. “You said yes?”

  “Yes.”

  In a moment they both began to laugh and an awkward tension dissolved into easy camaraderie. Rowan said, “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. Let’s get some food together.”

  Both Sarah and Graham Hart were still at work, so Rowan and Anna had the house to themselves. They changed into sport clothes, then packed Anna’s carryall with sandwiches made from leftover chicken. Rowan went up to the roof to check the big pots where their citrus trees were planted. He came back with several ripe oranges to add to the bounty. At Anna’s insistence, Rowan checked with INAFT.

  “All clear,” he told her. They left a note, saying they would be home by dinner time, and were off.

  They took the people-mover to an electrobus that traveled directly to and up the shore. Unlike Anna, Rowan was used to finding his way around outside the complex. He had a good memory for places. Although he’d visited this spot only once before, he recognized the stop where they were to get off. On foot, he took the carryall and they set out.

  Anna said, “But, Rowan, we’re way above sea level here. There isn’t any beach.”

  “Trust me.” They walked for perhaps ten minutes before he said, “Come here,” and motioned her toward the edge of a steep cliff. He pointed down to a small cove with a skimpy stretch of sand that lay far below them. “There it is.”

  “But there isn’t any way to get down,” Anna said. “Oh, yes, there is. Follow me.” Rowan, feeling very worldly, led her on, through scrub, into high grass, green from winter rains, around shrubs, and on to the far end of the cliffs where they could again look down to the cove.

  “I don’t see any path. It’s all rocks,” Anna said. “There isn’t a path, but you can get down from here and back up, too. I’ve done it. Just take it easy and I’ll help you. Be careful, though.”

  Rowan thrust the straps of Anna’s carryall over his shoulder to leave his arms free, then led the way. They scrabbled down, Rowan helping Anna around and over boulders, both sliding some of the way on their seats. The descent was longer, steeper, and more difficult than he’d remembered, but, at last, they reached the cove with nothing worse than scraped palms.

  He dropped the carryall onto the beach and sank down to catch his breath. Anna sat besi
de him and wisely, he thought, took off her shoes and rolled up her slacks. He did the same. The air felt cool, the sun and sand, warm. They were both silent for a time, drinking in the salty ocean smell, listening to the sound of waves washing over the shore.

  Rowan felt as if he were generously sharing his kingdom with her as he said, “Isn’t this a tremendous spot?”

  “It’s strange,” Anna said. “I mean, there isn’t another soul around, and you can’t see anything but ocean and cliffs.”

  “That’s what’s so great about it. We could be the only people in the whole world. Civilization just disappears when you’re down here.”

  Anna pointed in the distance. “Not quite. There’s a sailboat.”

  “They don’t come near this part of the coast, though, because of the currents.” He smiled smugly. “We have it all to ourselves.”

  Anna glanced around her. “Any minute I expect to see smugglers landing here.”

  “Heaving to, you mean. In Smuggler’s Cove, you’d better speak the language.” He pointed to the steep stony rise. “Can’t you just imagine a bunch of pirates trying to take their ill-gotten gains up those rocks?”

  “No, I can’t. I can’t even see us getting back up.”

  “We will, though. No problem. How do you like the name I just gave this place?”

  “Smuggler’s Cove? I like that. Let’s always call it that.”

  Always? The sharing of memories forever? He had a fleeting vision of himself old, of Anna old. In the vision, they were among other people whom he couldn’t identify. Anna was saying, “Remember that day we went to Smuggler’s Cove?”

  “Smuggler’s Cove? Where’s that?” the others would ask. He would look at Anna and Anna would look at him and they would share what they could never, in quite the same way, share with anyone else, this moment together in this place. Now he had the feeling that it was important to keep his senses honed sharp to take in every sound, every smell, every feeling so acutely that he could always bring this moment fully to life in his mind.

  Anna felt the same. This was a very special afternoon. They were the only people in the whole world. All civilization had vanished. There was no one out there to say that she must be a physicist, that she must be Anna Zimmerman. With the whole world gone, her heritage no longer mattered. She was someone new. Eve, perhaps.

  Rowan sprang to his feet. He placed a palm over one eye, pointed to it with the index finger of his other hand and said, “Eye patch.” Then he pointed to his left leg. “Peg leg.” He began walking stiffly in circles around Anna. “What ‘o, me ‘earty. What say we wash the grit out of our ‘ands and ‘ave a bite o’ grub?”

  Anna let out a great burst of laughter. “You’re a terrible pirate.”

  He dropped the act. “I may be a terrible pirate, but I’m a great comedian. I can’t remember ever hearing you laugh like that.”

  “I guess it’s the sea air.” She got to her feet to join him in washing her hands in salt water. Rowan had thought to bring along a small towel. They dried off and ate lunch, their appetites sharpened by the delay in eating and by the outdoors. Afterward they tested the water, each with a toe, then with a whole foot. Icy. They yelped and hopped back on the beach to stretch out on warm sand.

  They talked.

  About Japan. Anna saying how wonderful it was that Rowan would have a chance to win a scholarship like that; thinking, I wish you weren’t going so far away. Rowan saying he’d always wanted to see Japan, although it was certainly not a sure thing; thinking, But it’s awfully far away. A chill gale threatening Smuggler’s Cove.

  About Anna’s suddenly not talking to Rowan. Anna saying it wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it was because of -- well, if he must know, it was because of her -- well, wanting to take things and having to punish herself with the exercises and the books on the Holocaust; thinking, Now he’ll hate me. Rowan calling her an idiot, saying that if she’d only told him, he might have helped and that she must promise never to keep something like that to herself again; thinking, You silly kid. A warm wind filling, overflowing Smuggler’s Cove.

  They talked more. About Mom and Dad. About music. About Michaela and how Anna had really come to like her. About things they had never discussed before. And then, too soon, a cool breeze moved in like a sigh. The sun was lower now, the air colder, the tide sweeping in. It was time to put on shoes and head for home.

  They started making their way up the long, steep slope, much of the time on all fours, grabbing shrubs, rocks, anything sturdy, to pull themselves gradually higher. The distance up seemed so much farther than the distance down. They were only about halfway to the top when they heard a plaintive mewing. Rowan stopped short and glanced all around.

  It was Anna who spotted the kitten. “Look -- up there.” She pointed above and beyond them, to a part of the embankment they had avoided because it was so heavily covered with sharp rocks and with outcroppings of cactus.

  “How could a cat ever get up there?” Rowan said. “Maybe it lives around here.”

  “I doubt it. This spot is too far from beach apartments. It’s more likely that someone tossed it out here to get rid of it.” He began calling, “Here kitty, here kitty, kitty.”

  The kitten never budged from its perch on a high, mean-looking rock. As if the animal guessed it now had a sympathetic ear, it wailed louder.

  “Well, I’ll just have to go after it,” Rowan said. Anna’s stomach tightened. “Oh, Rowan, don’t try it. You could get killed on those rocks. You could slip and fall.”

  The note of terror in her voice stopped him for a moment, until he realized what caused it. He had almost forgotten how, long ago, he’d had to give away his puppy because of Anna. He’d thought he would never forgive her for that. Perhaps he hadn’t really understood. “You’re afraid of it, aren’t you?” She opened her mouth to object, then decided to be honest. She bit her lip and nodded.

  “Anna, I can’t leave the poor thing here to die of starvation.”

  “I can’t help it, Rowan. They scare me. And there isn’t anything I can do about it.”

  His eyes moved from her to the crying cat, trying to devise some plan of action that would get them all to safety. There was no way he could do it alone. And if Anna responded hysterically, they could easily wind up at the bottom of the cliff. Finally he had an idea. “You’ve said that you don’t want to be Anna Zimmerman, that you want to be yourself.”

  She glanced at him suspiciously. “What’s that got to do with it?”

  “I mean, if you’re phobic about animals, Anna Zimmerman probably was, too, for some reason or another -- because of something that happened to her in her life. And without any reason in yours, you’re paying the price for what took place in hers.” He wasn’t at all sure he was right, but if there was anything that could change her attitude, his common sense told him it was her unwillingness to identify with Anna Zimmerman. When she didn’t answer, he said, “Let’s make our way up farther.”

  Anna followed him, hoping that meant he had changed his mind. They continued on until they were on a level with the kitten. Then Rowan spotted a good-sized flat boulder on which he knew he could get his footing. He heaved himself on to it, then pulled Anna up beside him. He took in the problems that lay between them and the yowling kitten. Giant rocks and spiny cactus. The kitten couldn’t have chosen a more difficult spot for a rescue. “I’m going to need your help, Anna. Think you can manage?”

  “You mean you’re going to -- ”

  “I have to, Anna. Can you help me?”

  “Will I have to --” her voice quavered, “to touch it?”

  “Anna, please try. That’s the only way I can do it. I’ll have to hang on with one hand and pass the kitten to you with the other.”

  “I don’t know, Rowan.”

  “Anna, try!”

  Tears stung her eyes. She wanted so much to please Rowan, wanted his approval so badly, yet wasn’t at all sure she was up to winning it. “I’ll try.”


  “Good.”

  They picked their way around cactus, over and around rocks until they were directly below the jagged boulder where the kitten had worked itself up to a small ledge near the top. It looked down at them, mewing pitifully.

  “I’m going to hand the cat to you, Anna, and you’ve got to hang on. Remember, if you panic or do anything foolish, we could both lose our footing and get hurt or killed.”

  It was a test. Terrible things would happen if she failed. “I’ll do my best.”

  He took her by the arm and stared directly into her eyes. “Now, remember, you’re not Anna Zimmerman. You’re not afraid of animals.”

  When he released her, she watched him as he felt for a toehold in the rock. She watched, thinking, I am not Anna Zimmerman. I am not afraid, of animals. Not afraid. Who could be afraid of a little kitten? Anna Zimmerman perhaps. But I am not Anna Zimmerman. I am someone new. I’m Eve. And I am not afraid.

  With his foot firmly lodged in a groove in the rock, Rowan was tall enough to stretch up and with one hand, grasp a rough protrusion on the stone and with the other, the kitten. The animal squealed as Rowan lowered it to Anna. “Quick,” he said.

  They both knew he could not hang on long. Anna, heart pounding, reached up and snatched the animal from him, holding it away from her body, cupping it tightly in her hands. She heard Rowan exhale in relief as he steadied himself against the rock. She felt the furry ball wriggle, held tight. Fear, bilious and icy, shot to her stomach and crept out to her limbs, her fingers, demanding that she scream, let go. I am not Anna Zimmerman. I am not afraid. I am Eve. I am not afraid.

  Through trembling fingers, she could feel her heart racing. In another moment she realized it was not her heart, but the kitten’s. The animal was frightened, too. Shaking. As frightened as she was. Poor thing. Like the little girl in the concentration camp. Abandoned. A waif. Poor thing. Now all she could think of was the child. Again, she was experiencing the child’s fear. A great wave of tenderness washed over her. She pulled the kitten close, held it against her chest, and soothed it. “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.” Poor little girl, poor little waif. Poor thing.