Beloved (47 page)

"
Fire screens!
"
she said with a bitter laugh.
"
They
'
re to protect against the odd ember, not a volcano!
"
She began shivering again, as if she knew there
'
d be a hard fight ahead to prove that Judith was behind this.

"
The chimney hasn
'
t been used in years,
"
Mac said slowly, as if Jane had only a middling grasp of English.
"
Did you have a chimney sweep clean it out?
"

"
What am I, Mary P-Poppins?
No,
I didn
'
t have a chimney sweep clean it out. Anyway, it worked fine at first.
"

"
But the wind
'
s been picking up all evening
.  Listen
to it, Jane. It
'
s blowing a full gale.
"
He tried again, with infinite, infuriating patience.
"
Do you know what a backdraft is?
"

"
This wasn
'
t a backdraft, this was Judith.
"
She nearly spat the word:
"
Judith!
"

A thought occurred to her.
"
I can prove her to you! I have her on tape,
"
she said, rushing to the camcorder.

There was, of course, no electricity to run it. Frustrated by the failure of everyone, including Mother Nature, to cooperate, Jane slammed her hand down on the machine.
"
Son of a bitch. Son of a
bitch,
son of a bitch.
"

Mac flashed the light briefly over her face and said,
"
Hey, hey, Miss Drew. That
'
s no way for a lady to talk.
"

It was obvious that he was worried about her, despite his light tone. But she wanted him to admit it.
"
Why did you shine that light in my face, Mac?
"
she asked in a dangerously still voice.
"
Reality check?
"

"
Maybe,
"
he said quietly.

"
Do you think I
'
m hysterical?
"

"
Not clinically, no.
"

"
You infuriating
—
give me that!
"
she said, snatching the flashlight from his hand.
"
Look at this sketch.
Look!
"

She flashed the light on Aunt Sylvia
'
s charcoal drawing of the young Quaker woman
—
it was Judith, of course
— who was pictured exactly as she
'
d appeared in Jane
'
s dream. The same imploring pose, th
e same thick, dark hair. And that
coal-skuttle bonnet on the floor beside her:
i
t must have fallen from her lap when she went to answer Jabez Coffin
'
s knock.

"
That
'
s Judith Brightman,
"
Jane whispered, holding the beam of light unsteadily on the sketch.
"
She
'
s just been set aside
from the Society of Friends ..
. and forbidden
to enter the Burial Ground
. Jabez Coffin did this to her. My God. There
'
s nothing I can d
o about it now ..
. nothing.
"

She turned slowly to Mac in the darkness and flicked the light over his face. He winced, but whether because of the bright light or her state of mind, she could not say.
"
Do you believe me?
"

"
Can you think of a reason why I shouldn
'
t?
"

"
Yes,
"
she admitted sadly, letting the flashlight droop by her side.
"
You can point out to me that I had the dream
after
I
'
d studied the sketch. And you can add that a lot of
what I know, I could have learned subliminally as I scanned through issues of the
Inquirer,
or from what you told me when we walked that day in the Burial Ground. But Mac
—
oh, please
—
believe me anyway,
"
she whispered.

"
Am I
to believe your Aunt Sylvia as well?
"
he asked her gently.

"
Aunt Sylvia? What has
—
oh. I see. She had to have had the same dream that I did, to be able to do that sketch.
"
Jane laughed
—
a small, hopeless sound.
"
Boy. It
'
s not looking too good for me, is it?
"

She handed him back his flashlight as if she were handing over the scepter of command.
"
What do they call people like me? Delusional?
"
It was a measure of her respect for him that she assumed he would know precisely which psychotic category she belonged in.

"
I
'
d call someone like you damned tired,
"
he said gruffly.
"
You should be in bed.
"

"
No!
"
she said in a panic, thinking of the videotape.
"
She
might be there.
"
She felt her cheeks glow with embarrassment; it all sounded so absurd.
"
I know I sound like a kid afraid of the dark, but
—
"

"
I
'
d ask you to my place,
"
Mac interrupted in a strained voice,
"
but somehow I don
'
t think that
'
s such a hot idea.
"

She had no idea what he meant by that, so she agreed with him politely.
"
N-no, of course not. I
'
d be fine, if only I knew how to use the kerosene heater. I could sleep right here.
"

Mac seemed relieved to shift the talk to things mechanical. Before long he
'
d located the old heater, verified that it was filled with kerosene and not something dumb like gasoline, cleaned the wick with his knife blade, and had a nice clean blue flame going. He showed Jane how to turn down the wick and blow it out if she needed to, and then it was time to go.

She thanked him profusely while she stood wrapped in the cocoon of her blanket, as close to the heater as she could get. She was thanking him all over again when the unmistakable smell of singed polyester reached her nose and Mac
'
s at the same time. Mortified, she yanked the blanket off the heater.

"
We
'
re going to have to get you flameproof Dr. Denton
'
s to sleep in,
"
Mac said wry
ly
.
"Just how accident-
prone are you?
"

"
Can you possibly think this is f-funny?
"
she snapped, beginning to shiver violently again. She
'
d had one too many near-misses in a row; she was becoming unraveled.

He didn
'
t bother answering her question, but he said,
"
I
'
ll sit with you awhile.
"
It wasn
'
t an offer, it wasn
'
t a request. It was a simple statement of fact.

They sat down on the Empire sofa, with the blanket pulled loosely over Jane
'
s lap. She was reminded of the practice of bundling, peculiar to old
Nantucket
, that allowed a male suitor, fully clothed, to climb into bed with the object of his affections, also fully clothed, so that they could court without wasting precious island firewood. A board placed lengthwise between the couple was supposed to keep things from getting too cozy.

Not that we
'
d need the damn board,
she thought with a sigh. Mac
'
s willpower amazed her. Any man
—
she thought of Bing
—
who found himself in the company of a
half-way
attractive woman, in the dark, with no heat, would think he
'
d died and gone to heaven. That much she
'
d learned in her dealings with the opposite sex.

But not this man. In the dim light of the kerosene heater she could see Mac clearly, leaning back on the sofa, his hands locked behind his head, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked maddeningly relaxed. He wanted her to be at ease; she understood that. But he didn
'
t have to be so good at it.

"
I was wondering,
"
she ventured,
"
how you manage to be so content to live alone.
I
thought the isolation was charming
—
at first. But look at me now. I
'
m a basket case.
"

He laughed softly and then added,
"
Who says I
'
m content to live alone?
"

The question sent a kind of sweet chill of hope rippling through her. She said,
"
I guess it just looks that way to someone like me.
"

"
Because I
'
m not living with someone, you mean?
"

"
Well, yes. That
has
to be by choice.
"
She was as much as admitting he was irresistible.

"
I suppose it
'
s true that I
'
m not at the frantic stage yet,
"
he said thoughtfully, oblivious to the compliment.

"
Frantic. I can
'
t imagine you frantic,
"
she said dryly.

He laughed out loud at that, the most good-natured, seductive sound she
'
d ever heard.
"
You think I
'
m too deliberate,
"
he said.
"Yeah ..
. you
'
re probably right,
"
he said, leaning forward pensively, resting his arms on his thighs.
"
Chalk it up to my misspent youth. It
'
s made me think twice before I act on some bright idea.
"

She wanted so much to ask him about that misspent youth, but now was not the time. Still, she took heart from the fact that they were at least talking comfortably to one another. In a strange way she thought that Judith deserved some of the credit, and she was grateful.

"
I
'
ve been meaning to ask you,
"
she said softly.
"
Did you know my Aunt Sylvia well?
"
She
'
d asked him once before, and he
'
d brushed aside the question with one of his evasions.

"
Pretty well. I liked Sylvia,
"
he said this time.
"
She was very much her own woman. Sharp as a tack, well informed
...
a CNN junkie, in fact. We didn
'
t see eye to eye on politics, of course, especially local politics,
"
he said, chuckling at the memory.
"
She wanted more laws, I wanted fewer.
"

"
That sounds about right,
"
Jane said, smiling.
"
I remember the day I first saw you,
"
she added.
How could she possibly forget?
"
It was at Aunt Sylvia
'
s funeral, and it was pouring out.
"