by Nancy Morse
“No frogs?”
“Frogs don’t come out till night. That’s why I’m out all night.”
“You and someone else I know,” Rennie muttered.
“A man’s gotta do his job,” he said. “You know how it is.”
“No, I don’t. Tell me, Willie, how is it? What keeps a man out all night long?”
He chuckled, as if he’d been caught. “My wife’s got a big mouth. Always she’s naggin’ at me, Willie do this, Willie do that. The frogs bring in good money, selling the legs to those fancy restaurants in Fort Lauderdale and Miami, but to tell you the truth, it’s my wife that makes me go out every night. To get away from her.” He burst out into laughter, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
Rennie smiled at his hilarity and admitted, “I know the feeling. Only for me it was my stepfather telling me what to do. Sometimes I felt like running away as fast as I could.” She sighed. “John is so lucky living alone out here with nobody to answer to and nothing to run away from. That’s true freedom.”
“Yeah, right,” Willie grunted.
Rennie picked up on something in his tone. “What do you mean? I’d give anything to have that kind of freedom.”
“Let me tell you, miss, there’s freedom and then there’s freedom. Me, I’ve got the freedom to run away from my naggin’ wife anytime I want, but I can always go back home. That’s true freedom.”
“But I’ve met John’s mother,” Rennie softly protested. “She would let him go back home if he wanted to.”
“Lorena? Hell, she’s got a heart as big as the Glades. Nah, I wasn’t talking about John. Tell me, miss, did you ever believe in something you couldn’t see…before you couldn’t really see, that is?”
She believed in John Panther, and with his help she was beginning to believe in her own instincts. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “I believe it’s not always necessary to experience that which you know in your heart to be true.”
“Well, there you have it.”
Rennie shook her head in confusion. “What does that have to do with freedom?”
“Like I said, there’s different kinds of freedom. John, he comes and goes as he pleases for reasons of his own. That damned cat, now, he comes and goes, too. At night he comes on all fours. You’d think that was the greatest freedom of all, an animal doin’ what an animal does. But when daybreak comes…” He snapped his fingers in the air. “Poof. Gone. Freedom? I don’t think so.”
“What cat? What are you talking about?”
Willie dropped his voice to a low, confiding tone. “They don’t like talkin’ about it, none of them Miccosukees. They’re kinda secretive, if you know what I mean.”
Rennie moved unconsciously closer. She didn’t know what he was getting at, but it sent goose bumps of anticipation racing across her flesh. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. But you’re not secretive?”
“I’m not really Seminole,” he said. “When I was a kid my family came to the Glades to hide because my father was runnin’ from the law in Georgia.”
Learning that Willie wasn’t really Seminole astonished her. She’d never even picked up on it. “But you speak the language.”
“I live the life and speak the language. I guess you could say I’m Seminole without actually being Seminole.”
Rennie could feel the adrenaline starting to pump. Seminole or not, this man knew something. She tried to keep the urgency out of her voice. “You were saying something about a cat. Do you mean a panther?”
“Did you ever see one? They’re just like cougars, but different.”
“In what way?”
“I ain’t never heard of no cougar turning into a man.”
Rennie’s mouth fell open. This was it. This was what she’d been looking for. “You’ve seen…you’ve seen…” she stammered.
“Hell, no, I ain’t seen nothin’. I’m just sayin’ it’s one of them legends that you either believe or you don’t believe. Me, I’m inclined to believe it. But maybe I’ve been in the Glades too long, huh?”
Suddenly everything was forgotten, the smell of fish he brought in with him, the rain that had begun to fall, the frantic beating of her heart. “Can I get you another beer?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
This time her hands shook as she pried the cap off the bottle. The grant depended on this. She needed something to take back with her, something to show her colleagues that all her work had not been in vain, something to show her doubting stepfather how serious she was about her profession, something to prove to herself that anything was possible.
She returned with another cold beer and said as calmly as she could, “So, tell me about the panther legend.”
“The Seminoles place great store in their legends,” he told her. “But this one scares them. Maybe it’s ’cause they know they could wind up like that poor warrior if they ain’t careful.” He took several long swallows of beer, which helped loosen his tongue even further.
“There was this warrior, see. And he killed this panther. But he was so proud and stupid that he didn’t say a prayer to the Spirit Being. Now, the Indians, they got this thing about sayin’ a prayer whenever you kill an animal. Me, I do it ’cause you never know. So, anyway, the Spirit Being looks down from His high place where He sees everything, and He says to the warrior, for being so stupid and disrespectful, I’m gonna turn you into a panther. This way, you’ll know what it feels like to be hunted. And if that’s not bad enough, by day you’re gonna walk the earth like a man so you can think about what you did for all eternity.”
He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank again. “How’s that for a punishment?”
Rennie was thinking of the legend of the sun and the moon that Lorena told her and of the terrible fate of the Miccosukee woman. But at least she was left half beautiful, proof of the Spirit Being’s mercy. But where was the mercy for the poor Seminole warrior? “The Spirit Being certainly exacts a harsh toll when His rules are bent,” she said.
“I can tell by your voice that you don’t believe it.”
Rennie shrugged. “I’m not Seminole.”
“You don’t have to be Seminole to believe something you know in your heart to be true.”
Having her own words echoed back at her only confused her. “But surely you don’t believe the legend is true.”
“There’s things in the swamp that can’t be explained,” he replied.
The old Seminole janitor at the university had spoken those very words. If she doubted her instincts about him before, she doubted them no longer. But the Seminoles believing in the legend was one thing. Believing it herself was something else. She tilted her head at him and said challengingly, “All right, tell me this. If the Seminoles believe such a creature exists, do they know where it is?”
“Nobody knows,” said Willie. “Out there in the swamp someplace.”
“If he walks as a man by day, does anyone ever see him?”
“Who knows? Maybe yes. Maybe no. He could be anyone. Your next-door neighbor. Your husband. The person you trust the most. Most likely he’s a loner. Someone whose absence at night arouses no suspicion.”
“It’s intriguing, I’ll grant you that,” she said. “But a man who turns into a cat?” She shook her head skeptically. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you believe what you want,” he said. “But I’m tellin’ you, some things just can’t be explained. If you ever meet someone who’s just a little bit puzzlin’, a man with somethin’ to hide, ask yourself, could it be him?”
Rennie laughed at the mystery in his tone. “How do I know it’s not you?”
“Me? I ain’t no cat. Besides, I don’t go out every night. Some nights, when I’m looking for a little lovin’, if you know what I mean, I stay home and let my wife nag all she wants. Nah, it’d be a man who goes every night.”
Something inside of Rennie tensed. A man who goes out every night. A man with something to hide. Privately she dismissed the legend as pre
posterous. Things like that didn’t happen in real life. At least, that’s what she would have thought before she met John Panther and began to believe in things she didn’t believe in before, like how to trust her own instincts. And what were those instincts telling her now? That a man could turn into a cat, and that John could be such a man?
Could it be? Could John be the man in the legend? How could she ignore the fact that he disappeared every night, or the air of mystery that surrounded him, or the sound of his voice, like that of a man with something to hide? In her world of darkness it was easy for her imagination to run wild.
If John were the man in the legend, it would explain why he claimed to know nothing about the legend, and why he tensed up whenever she mentioned panthers. It would clarify the regret she heard all too often in his voice and the unbridgeable distance he sometimes placed between them. He told her he took his name from his father, but who knew? Maybe it wasn’t a coincidence after all that his name was Panther.
Willie picked up his sack of fish and headed for the door. “Well, I gotta get goin’. Tell John I’ll catch him next time. I’m glad to see you doin’ so good, miss. That John, he’s a little strange sometimes, but he’s a good healer.” She heard the door close behind him.
For several minutes she stood rooted to her spot, not knowing what to do. If she told John what Willie had told her, it might only drive a wedge further between them. If John possessed such a deep and deadly secret, he would have to tell her on his own.
What was she thinking? He wasn’t the warrior of the legend. He couldn’t be. The man she knew was flesh and blood and human emotion. But what about the part of him she didn’t know, the part he kept hidden? Was there a side to him that showed itself only in the still of night?
She walked numbly to the table and dropped down into the chair. With a weary gesture she removed the dark glasses and tossed them aside. She no longer knew what to think or to believe.
It was still raining when John returned. The sound of the door opening, the familiar vibration of his footsteps, the rapid beating of her heart that invariably accompanied his return, brought Rennie to her feet.
He sniffed the air. “Let me guess. Willie Cypress was here.”
She heard the rustling of paper bags.
“Give me a hand with these in the kitchen, would you?”
She moved with a will that seemed to be outside of her own to help him unpack the groceries he’d bought.
“Publix was crowded today. Man, I hate going into that place. It’s so bright and sterile.”
Yes, she thought, not at all like the dark swamp you’re used to.
“I got you that frozen yogurt you like.”
She felt a pang of guilt and forced her terrible thoughts aside.
“I thought maybe we’d go out for dinner tonight. There’s a little place on State Road 7. It’s not fancy, but the food’s good.”
She tried to keep the accusation out of her tone when she questioned, “Don’t you have to go out?”
He stopped what he was doing and put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Rennie, about last night, I…”
She drew back and busied herself with putting the groceries away. “There’s no need to explain. I understand.” Better than you know, she could not help but think.
John felt a stab of remorse at having run out on her last night, but he’d needed time alone to think, about Maggie, about the panther, about his unresolved feelings for Rennie. But with the dawn had come no resolution. He forced a lightness into his voice that he didn’t truly feel. “So, what about dinner?”
“It’s raining,” she said dully.
“It’ll stop. It always does.”
“I’d rather stay here tonight.”
“You’re not worried about that guy, are you? It isn’t likely he’d find you in a little restaurant on the reservation.”
This time it had nothing to do with Craig or being recognized. It had to do with there being a whole world out there that she wasn’t sure she was prepared for, a world of mysticism and things that couldn’t be explained. She felt safer right here within these walls. “No. I’m just feeling a little tired today, that’s all.”
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow. Willie must have talked your ears off. I don’t blame you for wanting some peace and quiet.”
There was something about the way she averted her gaze that should have warned him, but he was too busy admiring her eyes to notice. He was glad she no longer wore the dark glasses. Her eyes were clear and bright and as blue as the Everglades sky on a perfect spring day.
“What’s this?” she asked, withdrawing an object from one of the bags.
“A flashlight. Hurricane season is here. I’ve got a weather radio for hurricane warnings. If one’s coming, I’ll get you out of here as fast as I can. But it never hurts to have an extra flashlight on hand.”
He ripped open the pack of batteries he’d bought and inserted them into the flashlight. Flicking the button, he shone a ray of light around the room.
Rennie blinked several times. “What was that?”
John’s head spun in her direction. He asked anxiously, “Did you see something?”
“I don’t know. For a second I thought…” She blinked again, but there was only darkness. She gave a little laugh. “My mind must be playing tricks on me.”
He felt bad for her, but knowing that she wouldn’t want his sympathy, he said, “Why don’t you go inside and relax? I’ll put the rest of this stuff away.”
She welcomed the distraction of putting away groceries so she wouldn’t have to think about who or what he really was, but she couldn’t tell him that, so she left him alone in the kitchen.
The rain was but a pale prelude to the hurricanes that threatened from June through November. Rennie knew it would not stop John from going out that night. The rain never did. She smelled the dampness on his clothes and the raindrops that had left their refreshing scent in his hair, and she knew he’d been out all last night in the rain. What drove a man to do that? she wondered. Love of the outdoors? Devotion to his work? Or some deep, primordial need that defied explanation?
Later that night, after they had eaten and talked for a while, avoiding all mention of things with consequences, most of all for John, Rennie sat quietly on the bed, her knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them, listening to music on the radio. The rain had stopped. The air outside was humming with insects. The bushes rustled with opossums, raccoons, marsh rabbits and foxes foraging for food by the light of a rising moon. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t aware that John had finished making entries in his work journal, until a familiar sensation came over her and she knew without seeing that he was standing there before her.
Her breath quickened when he placed one knee on the edge of the mattress. She didn’t see the smile on his full lips, but she felt his eyes, dark and intense, fixed on her. For the first time she was afraid. But of what? Of him? Or of herself, for wanting him in spite of what he might be?
His lips were gentle upon hers, as if he sensed her fear and sought to put it to rest. He breathed her name into her mouth, sending a spasm of pleasure through her. His hands began to search the swells and contours of her body, lingering on her breasts as if trapped by their softness.
She had never felt the kind of need she felt at this moment, not even in their previous lovemaking. There was something new tonight, an element of danger in the terrible knowledge she carried, which increased the pitch to a frightening frenzy. It had never been like this, and she couldn’t bear to lose it. Take me! she wanted to scream.
He was stronger than she was, with sleek, hard muscles that should have warned her of the danger she was plunging into. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. When she was ready for him, she grasped his hair with a moan and drew him in as deeply as it was possible for him to be.
He took her with an almost ferocious passion. She heard his groan and felt his body shudder, and in that moment it didn’t matter who he was,
or even what he was, only that he was there with her, inside of her, all around her.
It was some time after midnight. John had disappeared into the swamp, leaving Rennie alone, her mouth still wet from his kisses, her body still flushed from his heated possession. Nothing in the world made her feel this way, so complete, so whole, so confused. And as the evening wore on, Rennie came to a shocking realization. It didn’t matter what he was. She was in love with him.
Chapter 10
Something awakened her.
She stirred and turned her head on the pillow. John was asleep beside her. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face and smell the scent of the earth and the forest that lingered perpetually in his hair. She hadn’t heard him come in last night, but even in slumber she had somehow known he was there, unconsciously moving into the embrace from which she had just awakened.
Careful not to wake him, she gently disentangled herself from his enveloping grasp and got up. She yawned, stretching her arms up over her head and walked barefoot to the door. Not knowing why or what awaited, she opened the door and stepped outside.
The ends of her hair flicked about in a gentle morning breeze. Overhead the air screeched with the sounds of birds awakening to greet the day. But it wasn’t the noises that had drawn her from slumber. It was something else, something she could not put her finger on. She stood there, breathing in the fragrant morning air, dressed in a T-shirt and nothing more, feeling strangely calm in the growing light. And then she realized what had awakened her. It was the light.
Apprehension mingled with fear rushed through her. She blinked her eyes hard several times. Instead of the blackness that was so familiar, and which she had come to expect, she was greeted by shadows. Something flickered before her eyes, grew dim, then flickered anew. Ever so gradually the blackness turned to gray, and then to shades of grey, from dark to light and back again. There was no pain or discomfort, only the progressive lightening of the shadows as her vision slowly adjusted and grew clear.
And then, as if she had never been blind, she could see.
