Ancient Eyes (40 page)

The door opened again, and Abe started, backing into the headboard in alarm. It was Elspeth. She kept her eyes on the floor, and her steps were slow and shy.

When she looked up, Abe breathed and almost laughed.
 
Her forehead bore no sign of the mark he'd seen there only a few days before. Her eyes were clear, and she seemed no worse for her experience.

"They're all getting over it, more or less," Barbara explained.

"The fire cleansed more than just the church. Some things have changed, but for the most part folks are back to themselves.

"The Murphy's buried Angel today, and Tommy is going to move down and run Silas' store.
 
There's some paperwork to take care of, but we're all behind him, and I think it will work out. His pa has moved in with Irma Creed, and the two of them are going to be attending services together at the stone chapel.

"It seems that before Silas pulled it out of his head, Tommy already had eyes for our girl."

Elspeth blushed, but she smiled. She stepped to the bed on the opposite side from where Kat was sitting, leaned in and gave Abe a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Before he could answer she spun and skipped out the door. This time Abe did laugh.
 
Then, before Kat could pull away, he pulled his mother's medallion from his neck and slid it over her head. She sat up—held it in her hands—then glanced up at him.

"To help take care of you," he said, "in the few minutes of every day of the rest of your life that I might be out of arm's reach."

She fell back into his arms, and this time Barbara caught the tray and lifted it with a soft chuckle. "I'll bring this back later," she said.

Abe nodded at her as Kat slid onto the bed. He held her close up against him, and pulled her head to his chest. He stroked Kat's hair and stared through the slits in the blinds. He was thinking about running on the beach, and the gleaming white walls of the cathedral of San Marcos by the Sea, visible from his bay window. He was thinking about books and stories and photographs and a million things that had ceased to exist when his footsteps reached the foot of the mountain.

He was tired, but he felt good. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows. As he drifted off, he thought of his mother's smile, and his father's voice.
 
He thought of great birds soaring over the peaks above the stone church, and the tall, strong trunks of pine and oak in the forest beyond the wall in front of him. He felt all of this through the handmade wooden frame of the bed and the floor beneath, and felt the blood of his family coursing through his veins.

It felt clean; he felt clean. It was time to go home.