The other side of the bed was empty when Bill awoke. The clock showed 7:30. He lay on his back and thought about how nice it had been to sleep with Faith -- tangled up like puppies. But now came the morning after awkwardness.
How a woman behaved the day after was always a mystery to him. Some were clingy, some cold, but the hardest to deal with were the gracious ones. After the divorce, Bill had used his share of women and regretted some of it now, realizing he was punishing them for his failed marriage. Women had used him too, which was okay, because he didn't want anything other than physical satisfaction. But there had been a few who deserved better treatment, sweet women, looking for a companion and thinking he might be a possibility.
'Faith is a sweet woman.'
The rumble of snow sliding off the roof coaxed him out of bed to check the weather. Pulling back the curtain revealed a blue sky and melting snow. Spring was retaliating against the foray of winter. Frosty had already lost his carrot nose.
After putting on his clothes, smoothing his hair and using and index finger to rub Colgate over his teeth, he went downstairs to face the music -- be it a hymn or a march.
Faith was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a professional journal, drinking coffee and nibbling a piece of toast with jam.
"Good morning," he said, walking to the counter to pour an eye opener of caffeine into a waiting mug.
"Good morning."
There was a cheery tone in her voice that made him turn to study her expression.
She smiled warmly, appearing to have no regrets or concerns about the night before.
'Maybe she just wants to forget it ever happened.'
Faith's eyes returned to the page. Bill stayed at the counter and gave her the once over. There were faint shadows under her eyes; similar to those he'd seen under his own in the mirror. Her dark, chestnut hair was still sleep tousled and he liked that she hadn't tried to put on a false front. She wore an old flannel shirt underneath faded bib overalls. The clothes fit her personality -- country comfortable.
Her magazine fell to the side. "Why are you staring at me, Holder?"
His eyes traveled down to her feet, covered by fuzzy brown dog-faced slippers. "You look nice in the morning," he said, smiling broadly.
Her cheeks colored a little. "Get your eyes checked when you get home." Two heartbeats later, she said, "The phone is working again," and pointed at a piece of paper on the table. "There's the phone number for the garage. Maybe the weather kept Fred from drinking last night. Give him a call early, you might get lucky," then she went back to reading.
Bill thought, 'If I'm lucky, Fred will be on a bender all week and I'll have to stay,' then said aloud, "Thanks, I'll call him from the cabin. I need a shower."
"Aren't you hungry?" asked Faith, meeting his eyes again.
"As a matter of fact, that toast looks pretty good."
Her eyes moved back to the article, as she instructed, "The bread's next to the toaster. The jam is homemade, from raspberries I picked last summer."
A bark at the door signaled Faith to let Hershey in, while Bill busied himself at the counter. The jingle of dog tags indicated her approach, so he turned to say good morning to the friendly Lab, as her owner went back to the table.
It stayed quiet, until he sat down across from Faith, took a bite, and said, "Mmm, this is delicious."
"Thanks. There's a berry patch out back that we've harvested" after a pause, she finished with a hint of emotion, "forever," and hid her face behind the magazine.
Swallowing his last bite, Bill decided it was best to talk about what happened. "Thanks for last nigh, Faith. I've really enjoyed our time together. You've been very kind... I don't know if you're worried at all, but let me say that I'm disease free --"
Last months issue of 'Adolescent Psychology' dropped with a laugh, "That's very thoughtful of you, Holder. I've enjoyed our time too, but here we are back in reality and it's time to move on," with that said, she removed his traveler's checks from her bib pocket and slid them across the table. "You may as well take these back. I won't be needing them and you might."
A little annoyed by the brush off, Bill sat quietly, while Faith went back to reading. After some time, he asked, "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to sell the place cheap and get a real job," she said, sounding angry. "It's time I grew up and stopped being so naive." Then, closing the periodical to look at him, she asked, "What are you going to do? And why are you even here to begin with? You never did explain how you happened to be passing through."
These blunt questions surprised Bill and he felt obliged to try and respond with the truth. She deserved an answer and, somehow, it might make a difference if she knew how he happened to be there.
So, he began from the point of his decision to start a new life, leaving out the part of wanting to end it. As he spoke the recent past aloud, his explanation of the trip to Rome sounded bizarre. He also left out the "hand of God" experience in the Sistine Chapel, so as not to appear totally insane, and continued to describe how he began to feel ill and couldn't sleep, until he was on the plane home. How he felt better on arrival and rented a car -- driving with no destination -- how the car broke down in Woodhaven, how the children had woke him, how he sat in her church and gave the checks in the offering plate when it passed. Finishing with, "The rest you already know."
Faith seemed frozen. Her stare made him uneasy.
In a soft voice, she finally said, "Are you serious? You came all the way from Italy to be here at the right moment to..." Shaking her head and looking out the kitchen window, she added, "It sounds like a fairytale."
When Faith looked back, Bill understood her puzzled expression.
Standing up, he said, "Now that I've told the whole story from start to finish, it does sound like divine intervention, doesn't it. And last night I got my reward without going to heaven first." Moving behind her chair, he bent down and kissed the top of her head. "Thanks again. I'm going to get cleaned up and make some calls. Will you take me to the village in a couple of hours?"
"Yeah, sure," she said, distractedly.
He left her alone to meditate and returned to his cabin.
Under the hot shower, Bill tried to convince himself it was time to move on, but the dream that woke him last night made him second-guess the decision. 'If I was sent here by some divine providence just to give Faith money and prevent a rape, why am I still having the same fire dream?' Actually, when he thought about the details, the nightmare wasn't exactly the same. He'd still been surrounded by fire, but the voice that screamed, "Faith," over and over again, was his own. There were other subtle changes not quite distinguishable and he was left with a subliminal foreboding.
"This is nuts," he said aloud into the needling spray, then thought, 'It's just my active imagination adding familiar things to a memorable dream.'
Out of the bathroom and dressed, Bill phoned Avis. They gave him a case number and instructed him to have the garage call when the car problem was found. Next, he dialed his brother to let him know he was back in the country. After a friendly chat with the office manager, Irene, Jack got on the line.
"Hey bro, how's the vacation going?"
Bill made up excuses about bad weather and lousy accommodations, finishing with his current location in the Catskills.
Jack was quiet too long, before he said, "You're bullshitting me about this vacation aren't you? You're working out some real estate deal on the sly."
Confused, Bill said, "No... why would I do that?"
