Moonbow

by Sheila Hollinghead

  Her hands shook. "How dare you! How dare you insinuate that David was involved with this? David would never do this to me."

  "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just searching for answers. Trying to figure this out. I'm sorry."

  And he did look sorry, his eyes pleading with her, his voice contrite.

  He was right. They needed to try and figure this out. But for him to think David was involved...but maybe he had been used. Perhaps it did have something to do with David. She had to take a steadying breath before she calmed herself. She could do this. It had been two years since his death.

  She waved a hand. "I don't like talking about his death...but...I need to...we need to figure this out, like you said. Maybe it does deal with David, but I don't see how."

  "Don't...I understand."

  "No, no. It's time I got over this." She took a shuddering breath. "I didn't have many friends growing up. My parents kept me busy. My life was scheduled except for the two weeks a year we went on vacation. One week in the summer, one at Christmas. We went to the mountains on a ski trip every year at Christmas. It was to the beach in summer." She glanced at him. "From what I've heard, I guess it was kind of a strange life. I mean, we went to the same beach every summer, the same cabin every winter." She shook her head.

  "Sounds like your parents were very OCD? Many people are like that."

  She shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I guess. They lived very disciplined lives, so it seemed normal. You know?"

  He nodded his head. "Sure. I understand."

  "Not that my parents didn't have friends...they were part of a large group of people who often got together." She played with a thread on her shorts. "Not their children, though. Kids were never allowed at the parties." She pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Anyway, it was a very lonely life. Especially when my parents were both killed in a car wreck.

  "Anyway, right after they were killed...just a week later, I believe, I met David. He was in one of my classes although he was a senior, about to graduate. He was older, was working his way through school." She smiled at the memory. "We got married. He was in ROTC. He was wonderful, very athletic, an avid scuba diver—a master diver. I became certified, and we often went diving. Once we rented an RV and went cave diving...at...hmm...I think it was Grenadah Springs in Tennessee. Only once. It was too scary for me. I actually preferred snorkeling at the beach. He also liked to ski—water ski, that is. Our life was pretty much school and vacations in Florida. Just that one trip to Tennessee."

  She shrugged her shoulders. "And then he went to Afghanistan, a year after his graduation. And..." Tears stood in her eyes, wavering on the tips of her lashes. She blinked them away. "That's all. I finished college and got a job, teaching children with autism."

  His eyes were thoughtful as they rested on her. "Did he have family? Friends?"

  "Sure, but not many. He was a few years older—had to work to pay for college since his parents were dead. That's what drew us together. But he had aunts, uncles, cousins." She nodded her head. "And he had two good friends. Tom and Ralph...I don't know their last names, actually never met them. They were always hanging out together, but it was guy stuff—I never went."

  Her eyes searched Rayden's. "I loved him. He was a good man...but there was nothing out of the ordinary about him. He was just David."

  The tears escaped, and she stood. "I think I’ll go lie down for a while. I’m getting a headache.”

  “Sure, we can talk some more later.”

  She shook her head. “No need. My husband was killed in Afghanistan. That's all. He was no one special.”

  He didn't speak, but his eyes followed her as she walked the few steps to the bed. She felt naked, exposed.

  She chided herself as she pulled the curtain. She sat in the middle of the bed, Indian-style, twisting her hair into ringlets, forcing her thoughts away from David.

  He was gone and nothing would bring him back.

  RAYDEN LEANED BACK in a lounge chair, watching the embers shift and drop, glowing brighter before descending into darkness. He relaxed his tense muscles, shutting out all except the companionship and the stars—brighter than he could imagine.

  Gisa sat beside him, her face having lost that pale, pinched look. The highlights of her silvery blonde hair shimmered in the glow from the fire.

  After their dinner of steak and potatoes, Mrs. Pierce still puttered around, pouring coffee and offering dessert. Mr. Pierce sat across from them, his friendly face wreathed in a smile.

  “So, have y'all always lived in Tuscaloosa?” Mr. Pierce asked.

  Rayden shook his head. "I'm originally from Kentucky.

  Mrs. Pierce's eyes brightened. "Kentucky! We have visited Cumberland Falls State Park a couple of times. Did you grow up near there?"

  "Not too far." Rayden shifted uneasily in his seat. Why had he told them he was from Kentucky? He didn't want to share more information than was necessary. Gisa was right about trusting people—he knew that. But these two people were so easy to talk to. Still...he had to be careful. He had to keep Gisa and the baby safe, always be on his guard. He just wasn't used to watching his every word.

  Mr. Pierce leaned forward. "We've been trying to get a glimpse of the moonbow. So far we haven't had any luck. Too foggy both times."

  "Moonbow?" Gisa asked.

  Mr. Pierce smiled at her. "It's like a rainbow but is produced by the light from the moon. The moonbow isn't as bright as a rainbow, of course, since it's produced by a reflected light source. There are only a few places in the United States you can catch a glimpse of one. Yosemite...Niagara Falls...but Cumberland is the best place to view—or so I've heard."

  Mrs. Pierce laughed. "Isn't he just charming in an NPRish way?"

  Mr. Pierce threw back his head and joined in the laughing. The couple exchanged a look of affection. "It's good to make your wife laugh, even when it's at you."

  Mrs. Pierce turned to Gisa. "Pam, did you grow up in Kentucky, too?"

  "No, ma'am. I've lived in Alabama my whole life. Never been this far west before."

  Mrs. Pierce glanced affectionately at her husband. "We love Alabama. One of our children, our daughter, lives there—between Opp and Elba. Our son lives in Oregon. But this is our home." She pointed to the spacious RV behind her. "It allows us to travel to see our grandkids whenever we want. Grandkids are truly a blessing from God."

  Gisa had turned away slightly, her hand up to cover a yawn. Rayden looked at her with concern. She needed her sleep in these first weeks of pregnancy.

  He stood and held out his hand to her. She hesitated a second. He held his breath until she reached up and clasped his hand.

  He helped her to her feet. “We need to be getting back. Thanks so much for the supper.”

  Gisa swayed slightly, and he steadied her.

  “Hope we can get together again,” Mrs. Pierce said. “I know in your condition, you may not always feel like it.” She looked at Gisa, and a gentle smile crinkled her face.

  “My condition?” Gisa asked.

  With Victorian delicacy, Mrs. Pierce leaned closer to whisper in her ear but loud enough for Rayden to hear. “Your pregnancy, dear.”

  Gisa grimaced and then her face smoothed. "We'll have to do this again soon."

  "Hold on for a second," Mrs. Pierce said. "We have some extra produce here. Sometimes I go overboard. Would y'all like some?"

  She held out a bag, and Gisa took it from her and peered in. Oranges. "Thank you, Mrs. Pierce. Just what I wanted." She smiled, but her eyes clouded.

  “Thanks again for supper," Rayden said. They walked away still holding hands. He tightened his grip, afraid she would pull away.

  “Did you tell them I was pregnant?” Gisa hissed. "Did you tell them I craved an orange?"

  Rayden looked back over his shoulder to see if they were out of earshot. He shook his head. "You're craving oranges? I didn't know."

  “How did she know?” Gisa hissed.

  “Beats me. Some women
just know these things. It's just a coincidence about the orange, I'm sure.” Gisa’s hand was so soft and warm in his. Her scent of lavender made him want to continue walking, to soak up her essence, to forget all that had happened.

  She pulled away abruptly when they heard a man step from his camper. He lit a cigarette. He took a puff, the end glowing bright, his face briefly revealed before the darkness reclaimed him in its shadows. Gisa barely glanced at the man, but Rayden studied him covertly. The guy was tall, taller than him, and muscular. Could he be one of the Die Auserwählten? If so, why hadn't he made a move? Why was he just watching?

  Rayden shrugged away his suspicions. He was probably just some guy camping. Rayden quickened his pace to catch up with Gisa.

  She turned her head towards him. “I’m not going to be pregnant long. That is, if you’re telling me the truth and this is not my baby.” She walked the rest of the way to their campsite in silence.

  Rayden matched his stride with hers to remain at her side. But the moment they had shared was gone. Destroyed by her doubts. At least it was directed at the Pierces, someone besides him.

  He wouldn't argue with her. How could he be sure about the old couple? They could be lying. Yet, his gut told him they were people he could trust.

  True...it was strange how Mrs. Pierce had known Gisa was pregnant. And that she craved an orange. He shrugged his shoulders. Some things were just inexplicable.

  He unlocked the door to the RV and stepped aside for her. She lingered on the step and faced him. “Who are those people?” She waved a hand in the direction of the Pierce’s campsite.

  Rayden shook his head slowly. “I only know what they've told me. They seem like nice folks.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh. “Right.” She entered the RV without looking back.

  Rayden sat down at the picnic table. His elbows propped on the table, he allowed his forehead to fall forward into his clasped hands. He closed his eyes, praying, hoping he wasn't trusting the wrong people.

  * * *

  Droplets of sweat trickled down Rayden's face. This was the longest jog he had managed during the week they had been here. Tiredness washed over him. He had started before daybreak but now the sun was beating down relentlessly.

  All night he had dreamed vividly, and now, although the dreams had faded into vague shadows, he still felt uneasy. Were they staying in one place too long? Allowing their pursuers to find their trail? But how could anyone possibly know where they were? Was his uneasiness tied to the Pierces? So far, they had been nothing but helpful, having them over several times, although, so far, Gisa had not allowed him to return the invitations.

  He didn't want to leave this area...not yet. He had chosen this place for a reason. A friend from medical school worked at an abortion clinic a few hundred miles away. If Gisa hadn't insisted on an abortion... He shook his head. His friend should be able to help. He'd figure out something.

  The sun rose in the sky, and he glanced at his watch. He turned and headed back to the RV.

  He knocked on the door as he always did before entering. Gisa sat on the couch, combing out her hair, fresh from the shower. He had to wrench his mind away from the sight and the enticing smell of lavender.

  “Good morning,” Rayden said. He poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down. “You seem to be feeling better.”

  “No morning sickness,” Gisa said. “That lemon drink you made really helps. Who would've thought?”

  He nodded his head as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip. “Yeah. A mix of lemon, ginger, and a pinch of cayenne usually does the trick. Of course, it gets better after the first trimester—most of the time.”

  She rose and walked over to the table, sliding into the seat opposite him.

  He glanced at her and then averted his gaze. Those vivid blue eyes pulled at his very soul. He hadn’t realized that living in such close quarters would have this effect on him. He looked down into his coffee cup, sighed, and drained the rest of the coffee.

  "An abortion will cure the nausea, too." Her eyes challenged him.

  He bit his lip. He was hoping she would change her mind. "Please think about this, Gisa. Even now, the baby has fingers and toes."

  Gisa stood and paced in the small kitchen. Rayden’s eyes were drawn to her. She paused and her eyes stared into his. He could not look away as her breathing quickened.

  With a flinch, she turned away, and he let his breath out in a whoosh, a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

  She turned her back to him and jerked open the door to the refrigerator, rummaging around. She emerged with an orange. "The last one," she said, as if more to herself than to him.

  He stood and stepped over to the counter, placing his hand over hers. She pulled her hand away, stepped back, and watched, her arms wrapped around her, as if cutting herself off from him. He pretended he wasn't aware of her presence, keeping his eyes on the orange. He rolled it under his hand, as he had seen her do, before slicing a triangular shape from the navel area.

  He offered it to her, but she did not take it from him. "Gisa?"

  She wouldn't meet his eyes. What else could he do? He placed it on the counter and went out.

  GISA SIGHED. WHY did Rayden have to be so...so...nice and so irritating at the same time? She picked up the orange and slurped out the juice.

  He had said he was a Christian. The Bible was still in the drawer. Rayden hadn't found it yet, and she hadn't mentioned it to him. She washed the stickiness from her hands and chin and stood pondering a moment.

  Curiosity made her go to the drawer. She picked up the Bible and flipped to Genesis. She wandered to the couch and curled up. After reading the first three chapters, she slammed it shut. What a stupid book! Who in their right mind could believe such drivel?

  She shifted her position on the couch and thought of Rayden. She had felt his eyes upon her. He was attracted to her as much as she was to him—no matter how much she tried to fight it. What if... No. He was just too crazy. His crazy ideas about God and about abortion. How could she be attracted to someone like that?

  His dark blue eyes made her feel enshrouded as if in a deep, dark cave, a dark cave with shimmering walls of blue—a darkness filled with light where no one could harm her.

  She rubbed her temples. And he wanted her to give birth to this baby? No, this clone. No way. She couldn't wait until she found out, until she knew for certain. As soon as she knew this was not David's baby, she would abort.

  She felt restless and went outside and stretched in the warmth of the morning sun.

  Rayden startled her when he spoke. “Hey.”

  His voice sent shivers down her spine. She twisted around to seek his face.

  He leaned against the side of the motor home in the shade of the awning. Gisa walked over to the picnic table and slid onto one of the benches. She was slightly disconcerted when Rayden slid in beside her instead of sitting on the other side.

  She cleared her throat. "I read a little of your Bible."

  "My Bible?"

  She waved an arm. "A Bible that was in a drawer inside."

  His eyes brightened. "A Bible? I'll have to get back to my Bible studies."

  She snorted. "It's ridiculous."

  He didn't respond, and she sighed. What did she want? For him to argue with her? Their knees were almost touching, and Gisa shifted slightly away.

  Rayden stood and hopped into the RV, returning with the book in his hands.

  He straddled the bench, facing her. Peace radiated from him like heat waves. Covering her, keeping her safe. Making her too aware of him. She shifted farther away.

  “If you've never read the Bible before...I assume you haven't?"

  She shook her head. "My parents were agnostics, as am I."

  "Well, then, it might be better to start in the New Testament.”

  Gisa didn’t answer. She didn’t have plans to read any part of the Bible. She swiveled slightly to contemplate him. “How did you be
come a Christian?”

  He shifted his position, staring in front of him for a few seconds before answering. She remained silent and waited for the story. A struggle passed over his features.

  He regarded the side of the motor home as if it were a masterpiece at the Louvre, his gaze never wavering. "You know the history of the Melungeons?"

  "A little. Some claim they were here before the Pilgrims."

  He nodded, looked down at the table, and traced a pattern. The small gold band on his right little finger glinted in the sun.

  "My family claims to be of Melungeon descent. Neither of my parents was very religious although they had this odd mixture of superstitions and Native American beliefs.” He drew what Gisa thought was a "v”, circled it, added a slash, and an "m". His finger retraced it over and over.

  "What are you doodling on the table?" Gisa asked.

  Rayden looked embarrassed. "Something my father showed me. He says there's a group within the Melungeons who contact each other with this symbol. The knowledge has been passed down through generations." He shrugged his shoulders. “It's just something he told me about—one of his superstitions. Or, not. I really don't know. My father was not always...reliable."

  Gisa waited, Rayden at her side. His eyes clouded with pain. One part of her wanted to reach out to him, to erase the hurt in his eyes. But it was only a second, and his eyes refocused.

  He continued tracing the pattern. “Anyway, my father left the mountains, went to college, and got a job with NASA in Alabama.”

  “And your mom?”

  Rayden’s face remained impassive, but some deep emotion emanated from him. Anger? Sorrow? Love? Gisa didn’t know.

  “She died when I was very young.” His voice was flat.

  “Your dad? Is he still living?” Curiosity welled up in her.

  “My dad died last year.” His hand stilled on the table. “I grew up, never receiving any type of religious training. I went to medical school at the University of South Alabama. At that point, I was like you, seeking answers.”

  Her face flushed with anger. “I’m not seeking answers. I know what I believe.”