Watching Russell tap his way down Cemetery Street, I realized moments of contentment are fleeting. Uneasiness and insecurity rose like the full moon nosing over Fernwood. Before turning to my darkened house I admired the Ortolan's home - its warm light bathed the frozen ground. I understood why my father spent so much time there. Even now he bathed within that warm glow. I retreated into my father's blackened house.
Ellie curled up on my bed as I gazed at the Ortolan's house and the moon-washed cemetery. Peering through bare tree limbs I searched the graveyard for my grandfather's and Count's graves, never imagining the news Shannie would break the following morning.
Shannie was quiet most of the ride to Lenape Valley. "I'm not going to Atlantic City anymore," she hesitated, concentrating too hard on the road. "At least for a while."
"Why not?" I hoped that my enthusiasm didn't betray my expression.
"It's for the best."
My eyes wondered along her arm as she downshifted. I loved the aloof finesse which she operated. "I'm sorry."
"Why should you be sorry? I know you can't stand her."
"Okay… WOOOOOHOOOOOO!" I hooted. "SCORE."
"Don't patronize me!" Shannie fell into silent concentration. "Just James," Shannie broke her silence as she pulled into the Rehab's parking lot.
"Yeah bug?"
"Ahhh, never mind," she brought the car to a rest.
"What?"
"Forget it okay." She avoided my gaze.
"If you insist." I reached for the door. She grabbed my hand. Her touch was clammy. "Promise me, promise you'll never leave me. I almost lost you. I couldn't live if I lost you. Promise you'll never leave me; promise you'll always be here. If I lost you it would kill me." Her pale green eyes searched for a promise lurking somewhere within my soul.
If I was smart, I would have asked her to marry me. Instead I said: "I'm here, I've always been here. You always leave and I always wait. That's not a promise Bug, that's the way it is." I slipped my hand from her icy grip and stumbled through the rest of my day.
A couple of weeks later, Shannie wrote in my birthday card:
If our eyes are the gateway to the soul
Our memories are its gatekeepers
Out of memory comes meaning
Out of meaning - warmth
Out of warmth - Love
Out of Love - Us
Beyond anyone - I remember you.