From Another Place Ch 02

We watched the chicks being fed for a few minutes, then Tim said, "Let's walk a little further up the canyon. We might see the other bird of the pair hunting."

We set off, Tim pointing out various features and interesting plants as we walked.

"Up ahead a little way there's a place where crows roost," pointed Tim.

I looked, seeing the black shapes among the dusty leaves. I smiled to myself, remembering all the associations of these birds with horror, death, the battlefield.

Suddenly, all at once the birds took flight, beating their wings strongly and vanishing towards the west. Tim frowned. "That's unusual. I didn't hear a shot, and we're too far away for us to have disturbed them."

As he spoke, I felt a tremor beneath my feet, then the shaking became stronger. I saw momentary panic in Tim's face, then he said, "Quick – we need to shelter in the lea of that boulder."

Before we could move, there was a cracking, splitting sound and a section of the canyon face directly above us started to detach. Without hesitating, Tim grabbed my hand and pulled me down, wrapping his arms around me, his hands shielding my head. I felt the impact of rock crashing to the ground a hair's-breadth from us, then a rain of smaller stones and dust.

When the rockfall had ceased, Tim released me, and stepped back, concern in his eyes. "Are you OK?"

I struggled to find words. "You... you protected me. You could have been killed!"

Tim gave a dismissive shake of his head, holding his hand out to help me up. "We'd better get back to the house." We picked our way out of the canyon, and back to the car.

"Are you OK to drive?" I asked. "I've not learned yet."

He nodded. "I'll be fine."

When we got back to the house, Tim said, "I need to change – I'm still covered in dust. Are you sure you're OK? I don't want you going into shock."

I nodded. "I'm fine. You go up, and I'll make us coffee, get the lunch ready."

Tim went upstairs, and I put the kettle on, then sat at the kitchen table to think. In the last two days I'd saved Tim's life once, though he didn't know it. But now he'd chosen to protect me, at the risk of his own life. Of course, the rockfall couldn't have harmed me, but to Tim I was just a young woman he hardly knew, yet...

I shook my head. It didn't really change anything. My mission was still the same, and I still had to find Tim's weaknesses, exploit them to achieve my goal.

I made the coffee, and after a few minutes Tim came down. He sat opposite me and picked up his mug. "Thanks."

I tried to think how I should react. "Well, thank you again for..."

Tim looked embarrassed. "Anyone would have done the same."

He glanced across to the kitchen counter. "We should have something to eat."

"Sorry," I said. "I forgot about the lunch." "Not surprising, really," he smiled, getting up to unpack our picnic.

We ate in silence, then Tim said, "You probably don't feel like going out again this afternoon. How about we sit in the garden? You could even use the pool – I don't bother much, but it's always ready for when Sally visits."

"Sounds great," I said. I thought for a moment. "Is she due to come home for a visit anytime soon? It'd be great to see her."

Tim nodded. "I think she was planning to come next weekend – I'll call her later to let her know you're here, I'm sure that'll firm up her plans."

He got up from the table. "I'll wash up. You go up and change if you want to swim?"

I nodded. "Sure."

I went up the stairs to Sally's room, and stood in front of the mirror. I pictured the effect I wanted, and my silvery dress faded out, replaced by a bikini in bright yellow. As an afterthought, I added a gold bar in my now-pierced navel, and grinned to myself as I saw the young woman who now appeared in the mirror – attractive, with a hint of something less than innocent.

I made my way out to the garden, finding Tim sitting in a recliner, concentrating on a novel. He glanced up, and although his face betrayed nothing outwardly, I picked up his thoughts – pleasure, lust quickly suppressed, a powerful twinge of loneliness, a flash of his wife's face and regret.

He smiled. "Almost wish I'd decided to join you."

I returned his smile, and walked over to the edge of the pool, diving in gracefully. I surfaced, turning back, and caught Tim's eyes on me for a moment before he looked back at his page. I swam a few lengths, then pulled myself out onto the side of the pool, curling my legs beneath me and coiling my long hair over my shoulder.

Tim glanced up. "You look like the Little Mermaid statue."

I shook my head. "Don't know that one?"

He smiled. "The story goes that a mermaid fells in love with a prince, and begs to be allowed to become human so she can be with him. Her wish is granted, but the cost is that she will always feel as though her feet are walking on sharp knives."

He paused thoughtfully. "The end of the story is that the prince has to marry someone else, and the mermaid throws herself into the sea. Instead of drowning, she becomes a spirit of the air, and she is told that if she does good things and weeps for the sorrow she sees in the world, after three hundred years she will be given a soul of her own and go to heaven."

I felt as though something had pierced my heart. Tim could have no idea of the effect his story would have on me, but I remembered – so long ago – my last moments in heaven, before the choice I'd made took me down, out, into the blackness.

"Are you alright?" asked Tim anxiously.

I nodded. "Sorry, I was miles away. I'd love to see a picture of that statue."

I stood up. "Think I've had enough swimming now."

I glanced at Tim. "I forgot to bring a towel down with me. Any chance you could..."

He got up. "Sure, no problem." I watched him walk to the house and return with a large towel. I smiled at him, turning my back, and felt him hesitate for a moment, then drape the towel over me. I turned to look at him over my shoulder, gratitude and just a hint of something else on my face, and once again I felt him suppress his feelings as he stepped back.

"Thanks, Tim," I said, wrapping the towel around me. "I'll come down again in a minute."

I went upstairs and changed back to my usual appearance, being careful to leave my hair wet, then joined Tim again by the pool.

He looked up. "I was wondering what we should do for food tonight. Perhaps we should go out somewhere, a sort of celebration that we're still alive."

"Sounds great," I said. "I didn't really bring anything to wear for an evening out, though."

He smiled. "Sally left a lot of her clothes when she went to college. I think you two are similar in size –" here I picked up a flashback in his mind to an image of me in my bikini – "and I know she won't mind if you borrow something."

I nodded. "OK – I'll take a look."

We went back into the house, and Tim went into his room to change while I explored Sally's wardrobe.

As I'd expected, most of her clothes were fairly conservative, but at one end of the rail I found a long dress in a dark silk fabric, cut low at the back.

I slipped into it, smoothing it over my stomach, and reached behind me for the zip. Then a thought occurred to me. I quickly picked up a bottle of perfume from the dresser, dabbing a few drops on my neck and wrists, then went to the door and opened it.

"Tim?"

"Hmm?" I heard him answer.

"Can you help me with this zip?"

He came into the room, and smiled. "That's the dress Sally wore to her eighteenth."

I turned to let him pull the zip up, and as he caught the scent I'd used – his daughter's – I grinned to myself, feeling his simultaneous attraction and confusion.

He cleared his throat. "So you're ready then?"

I nodded. We went down the stairs, Tim's eyes on me as I walked in front of him. He held the car door for me, then slid behind the wheel.

We set off further out of town, and after a few miles I spotted lights ahead.

"That's where we're going," Tim pointed. He pulled into the car park and again opened the door for me, watching as I stepped elegantly out of the car.

We went in to the restaurant and were quickly seated. Tim turned to me. "I think the occasion deserves champagne, don't you."

We ordered our meal, then the sommelier approached with a bucket on a stand and opened the champagne, expertly pouring us each a glass then returning the bottle to the ice.

Tim lifted his glass. "To life."

I echoed his toast, reflecting inwardly that life – real, joyful, grateful life – was exactly the thing I was here to taint, to deny him.

Our starters arrived, and I felt the tang of the sauce, the crispness of the lettuce. "This is good."

Tim nodded, looking up from his soup. "By the way, I hope you don't mind, I'll be going to church in the morning. You don't have to come, if you want a lie-in."

I used my napkin to hide my confusion. Of course I didn't want to go to church, but I needed to know what Tim was hearing.

And, I reflected, these people wouldn't be perfect. Every opportunity for stirring things up, a little dissension.

"Of course – I'd love to come," I smiled.

When we'd finished our main course, Tim asked, "Dessert?"

"Mm, please."

The waiter wheeled over the trolley, and I chose a rich gateau with the aroma of cherry brandy.

Tim smiled. "I'd love to, but I think there's enough alcohol in that to put me over the limit. I'll take the fruit salad, please."

We lingered over our coffee, then finally Tim said with a hint of regret in his voice, "We'd better get going if we're getting up in the morning."

Tim paid the bill, and we drove back to the house through the darkness.

"Well, straight to bed, I think," Tim said. We walked up the stairs, and as I reached the door of Sally's room I said, "Tim?"

"Hmm?"

I paused. "Goodnight – and thanks again." I looked into his face, tilting my head upwards a little.

I felt him hesitate, then he bent to me, his lips barely touching mine. "Night, Amy." And he was gone.

I went in and closed the door behind me. I thought for a moment, trying to consider my strategy. Well, perhaps the church service would produce something unexpected, something I could use.

I sat down, and once again reached out my senses to Tim's room. As he dreamed, I sifted through his emotions, and I stopped, shocked despite myself. Amid all the confusion I'd caused – swimming that afternoon, then wearing Sally's dress, her scent, our fleeting kiss – I sensed something else, something I hardly recognised.

Love?

I shook my head. Even if somehow he might feel something for what he thought I was, if he knew the truth he would be repelled, appalled.

The next morning, we had breakfast, then walked down the road in the warm mid-morning sun to the old Norman church. The vicar greeted us at the door, and Tim introduced me as an old friend of his daughter's.

I stretched my awareness, and caught the edge of a couple of conversations. "...half his age, is she really just a friend of his daughter... dress is a bit short for church, no decency these young people..."

I grinned inwardly. This was exactly what I'd been expecting. This I could work with.

The service started, and Tim looked at me, startled, as I hit the first note of the hymn in a clear, pure voice, the sound seeming to float toward the vaulted ceiling of the old church building.

As we sat, he said, "That's quite a voice you have."

I forced a smile. "Oh, I used to be in a choir." But that was a long time ago. No singing now.

Tim was about to reply, when the pastor announced the Bible reading. We waited as an elderly gentleman found his way to the passage, then began.

"In the sixth month of Elizabeth's pregnancy, God sent –"

I folded my arms. The last thing I wanted to hear was the account of how – when we thought we were finally beginning to make some progress – everything changed.

I shook my head. I was still here, wasn't I – no-one had stopped me coming, nothing was keeping me from doing what I wanted to Tim.

The pastor spoke briefly after the reading, then we sang another hymn and he gave the blessing.

"You have a lovely voice, dear," said an elderly lady who'd been standing in front of us."

"Thanks," I muttered. I followed Tim around as he chatted to various people, then after a while I said, "Shall we go?"

"OK," he replied. We shook hands with the pastor again, and walked down the path from the church.

"What would you like to do for lunch?" I asked.

"Let's go to the supermarket," Tim said. "There's a café there, and we can get what we need for the week."

I caught his glance back up the path, and grinned inwardly. So he had conflicts about shopping on a Sunday, but we were going anyway. Good.

We went back to the house to pick up the car, and Tim drove us to the shop. We walked into the café, and Tim said, "Pick anything you want."

I looked at the menu. "All day breakfast sounds good." All that fat and salt – no harm to me, but not good for a man in his forties with a desk job.

"Great idea," said Tim. He ordered for both of us, and we got drinks and sat at a table by the window.

"I'll get us some newspapers for this afternoon," he said. "What did you think of church?"

"OK," I shrugged. "I caught a couple of comments, though – some of those old ladies have sharp tongues."

He frowned. "I'm sorry, Amy. I hope I didn't put you in a difficult position." Again I found myself struggling for words, but recovered. "Well, everyone's human, despite what they say about 'do unto others'."

Tim sighed. "You have a point."

Our food arrived, and I watched as Tim ate, obviously enjoying the treat.

"How's yours?" he asked.

"Mm, good."

When we'd finished eating, Tim found a trolley and we walked up and down the various aisles. When we reached the biscuits, Tim reached up and took two packets, bright pink, with a picture of marshmallow centres.

"Sally's favourite," he said. "I always get a couple of packets when I know she's coming."

We filled the trolley, and I helped Tim pack at the checkout. He paid with his card, and I remembered that he was one of the fortunate ones, enough money not to have to worry.

We drove home, and Tim unpacked, then said, "You settle down with the papers, and I'll give Sally a quick call."

I went through into the living room, and I amused myself reading about earthquakes, floods, famine, and all the more human signs of a broken world – divorce, abuse, violence.

Tim returned, smiling. "Sally will come next weekend – she's looking forward to seeing you again."

I sensed a hesitation in his voice, knowing that Sally would remember the ambiguities of our earlier relationship, the times when we'd got into trouble and I'd been less than willing to take my share of the blame.

Still, she had benefited from my ability to attract the boys in her class, always making sure that I pushed one of them in her direction when we went out. Not that it had every really led anywhere...

I pulled myself back to the present. "That's great."

Tim sat down, picking up a colour supplement and starting to read. "I do like looking at the clothes the celebrities wear to the Oscars."

The afternoon passed quietly – Tim got up to make us coffee – and soon it started to go dark outside.

"Do you want anything else to eat?" Tim asked.

I shook my head. "Lunch was great. But you have something if you like?"

"Think I'm OK. Want to watch a DVD?"

"Sure."

Tim knelt to riffle through the discs under the TV. "This one – I like Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan."

He started the film playing, and we settled down side by side on the sofa to watch. As the plot began to unfold, I looked at him, seeing him smiling. "I guess this isn't really very close to the truth, but it's fun to speculate."

We continued to watch, and I gasped as the main character was involved in an accident. "Is she OK?" He didn't speak, and I looked across to see tears running down his face. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'd forgotten the ending – I don't think I've watched it since Sarah died."

Trying to work out what he'd expect of me, I put my arm tentatively round his shoulders, feeling his body shake with grief as the character left behind reflected, "I would rather have had one breath of her hair, one kiss of her mouth, one touch of her hand, than eternity without it. One."

I thought back to the story Tim had told me the previous day, then shook my head, telling myself that there was no such thing. What I was, I was, and that was it.

Tim looked at me questioningly. "You OK?"

I nodded. "We should get some sleep. Work tomorrow."

As I removed my arm from Tim's shoulders, I sensed a hint of disappointment, then he took a deep breath. "You're right."

We went upstairs, and this time as we parted Tim made no move to touch me. In his mind I sensed him remembering his wife, closing out any thought of me.

Damn, I thought, then caught myself. It didn't matter what he thought of me, as long as he wasn't pursuing goodness. For all I cared, he could lose himself in hopeless longing for a lost past, or sink into bitterness – why had it happened to him?

I sat down on the bed, wrapped in my thoughts, not even bothering to listen to Tim's sleeping mind.