Visiting the Neighbors

"Aren't you two spending an awful lot of time out in the greenhouse?" Mr. Andrews inquired, buttering a piece of toast.

"It's so beautiful out there!" I said, pressing my gaze into his. After a moment, he broke the glance and looked away.

That worried me. Some people were resistant to me, especially men.

"Oh, Joseph," Mrs. Lafontaine chided him gently. "I gave them permission to do their studies out there after we finish in the mornings."

"And do they finish?" he demanded sharply.

"Yes, of course!" she replied, "And if anything Missy is a good influence. Emily's showing a steady improvement in her composition and math."

"I'm not certain the greenhouse is healthy. There's an outbreak of some kind of anemia. Six cases in the last week."

"They were all at the edges of town," Mrs. Lafontaine pointed out. "They were exposed to it, if you ask me."

"Maybe I should cancel the girls' shopping trip," Mr. Andrews said thoughtfully.

I saw the disappointment flit across Em's face and vanish. She was as good at hiding her feelings from her father as the proverbial Japanese.

"Nonsense! None of the afflicted were good Christian households!"

That depends on your definition of Christianity, I thought smugly.

"True. None of the Brethren have been touched by it." So the shopping trip wasn't canceled.

Mr. Andrews took us into town in his snowmobile to shop as a special treat. Mama had sent me a letter and a large sum of cash. I offered half of it to Mr. Andrews to cover my room and board and he refused it, saying I was no trouble at all and he would feel insulted if I insisted. He also made it plain that he didn't take money from women.

An archaic attitude, but I didn't feel inclined to argue.

It was a warm day for a Montana winter, a full 20 degrees warm. A wall of snow piled onto the sidewalks by the snowplows often forced us to walk in the streets. There were a few cars and an occasional snowmobile. But the stores were open and many of the owners had swept the walks clear enough for customers to find their way inside.

Whenever we could find a cleared sidewalk Em and I stepped onto it, feeling safer despite the infrequent automobile traffic. We stopped for a minute and watched a big truck go by salting down the plowed streets. It reminded me of upstate New York when Mama and I were living there a few decades ago. It doesn't seem that long at all! I smiled at the sweetness of the memory.

Just then a procession of long, dark cars – with their headlights on in midday and black flags draped on their hoods – began passing by.

"Oh God! Make them stop!" Emily cried. I turned and saw her half-bent over with her hands to her ears.

"Em?" I was stunned. The cars continued to steer past us, and their presence clearly frightened Em.

"I hate funerals! I hate them!"

She twisted away from me when I reached for her. I frowned. "Em, its just a funeral."

"It depresses me. They had a funeral like this when my mother died. I didn't want to go but my father made me. Then he beat me later for throwing up when he made me kiss her body. They are burying Mrs. Bennett. She died a few days ago. It was all so sudden! Now two more women are showing symptoms. Father says it's AIDS breaking out again because there's so much sin in this town."

"Shhh," I soothed. "That's nonsense. Please, Em, I don't like seeing you so upset."

Em shook her head, sighing sadly. "I can't help thinking how tragic it is. She was so young. So was my mother. I often wonder if I'll die young too?"

"Come on, Em." I took her gently by the arm. "Let's go inside the yardage shop and look for some patterns and material. It won't be as loud inside."

"Why does everyone have to die?" She threw her arms around me in the street.

"Shhh! Stop talking about it and in a minute you'll stop thinking about it." I disengaged though I wanted to kiss her fears away.

"I don't want to die!" She repeated, her eyes closed and welling with tears.

"No one does, Em," I said gently.

Then I pulled her inside the shop where she slowly regained her composure as we examined the fabrics and patterns.

For the rest of the day all I could think of was Em, her pale, white skin, the sweet throbbing of the pulses in her veins. I felt as if night would never come and when it did, I felt as if it would never be bedtime. But eventually the household slept. Mortals are such fragile things and yet I am forever falling in love with them. I have loved many times, and yet I never loved as deeply as I loved Em.

My body melted into mist away at the thought of her sleeping in the next room and I flowed to her under the locked door of my chamber. Gathering myself at the foot of Em's old-fashioned brass bed, I watched her breasts rise and fall with each breath. I hesitated, longingly, beside her. "Em, sweet Em," I murmured as I leaned over the bed, nuzzling the cleft between her white snowy mounds. Her bodice came loose and my lips moved down. Em moaned but did not wake.

Em, Em, Em, goddess how I love you! Her life essence welled to my lips like ambrosia of paradise.

She moaned and writhed beneath the sheets. A floorboard creaked outside. Em woke instantly as if at a bad memory and screamed. I vanished, misting away and back to my room.

GODWAR CENTRAL

Visiting the Neighbors