Miracle Man (10 page)

"Thank you."

"Thanks Glenda. Next on
the line is Jeremy."

"Hey, Dave." The
voice in Lahra's headphones was that of a young man, a little spaced out. She
traded smiles with Wally and Dave as she listened. "Man, I'm with Lahra.
We're so lucky to have a place like the Miracle Cinema, y'know? I mean, they
show some great old movies there, I go there all the time. I can't see movies
like that at Riverbank Plaza. And you don't get no atmosphere at the video
shop, that's for sure. Me and my friends signed the petition this morning. It's
pretty scary to think that if Lahra hadn't found out about it or if she just
did nothing about it then
blam
, no more cinema."

"Well do us a favour
and tell everyone you can to sign those petitions," Lahra urged. "And
while you're at it, call any politician you can think of who is affected by
this. The Mayor. The local MP."

"No worries, Lahra.
Will do."

Lahra's uncertainty had
vanished. She could see the flashing lights of busy lines on the phone, and to
be able to speak to people like this heartened her incredibly.

"Let's talk to Valerie
now. Yes, Valerie, go right ahead."

"Oh, hello Dave, hello
Lahra," came the softly spoken voice. "I just wanted to thank you
Lahra for your efforts. My husband and I were friends of your parents. For
Riverbank to lose the cinema would be very wrong. Very wrong indeed."

"Thank you very
much," Lahra responded quietly.

"In fact,"
continued Valerie, "We shouldn't just save the cinema, we should ensure
that it's properly restored and maintained for the future. My son is an
excellent carpenter and I'm sure he'd be happy to volunteer some time-"

"Well, let's just hope
there's more like him out there," Dave interrupted with a chuckle.
"Thank you, Valerie. Okay, let's take one more caller for now... who have
we got? It's Cary. Hello there, you're talking with Dave and Lahra."

"A pleasure to speak to
you both," came the voice down the line. Lahra suddenly went stiff. That
confident, persuasive tone was unmistakable. It was Marcus Dean. She was aware
of Wally watching her curiously, but she did not move. "If I may, I'd like
to have a word with Ms Brook."

"With so polite a
request how could we refuse?" Dave chimed. Then he, too, noticed the look
of realisation on Lahra's face. Cary indeed, she thought. The gall.

"Ms Brook," the
voice said, "I can't help but agree with you that heritage is important.
Without the past, there's nothing on which to build the future. But, being a
businessman myself, I can't help wondering at the wisdom of keeping this
particular building."

Lahra was beginning to boil
inside. She wanted to press a button, any button that would take them off the
air, and the fact that she knew she couldn't only increased the pressure inside
her. She spied a pad and pen and grabbed them, scrawled the words 'It's Marcus’
and showed Wally.

"From what I
understand, the Miracle Cinema is in a pretty bad state. Who would pay for its
restoration? You say it's only a little tender loving care, but it would take
millions of dollars that the town doesn't have. If you ask me, it makes good
business sense to build anew, and the idea of a high technology entertainment
complex, including restaurants, bars and such, as well as cinemas, seems just
the thing to revitalise that end of town, particularly because Riverbank has a
very young population with a lot of entertainment needs. Now I know you'll come
back and say that heritage is more important, but what about the economy, jobs,
the future? Surely they're important too."

Lahra took a deep breath.
"Well...
Cary
... that last point of yours is very true. All those
things are very important. What you’re forgetting, though, as I'm sure the
developers involved have also conveniently forgotten, is that an entertainment
complex can be built anywhere, anytime. But once the Miracle is gone, it's gone
forever."

"But what about the
cost?" Marcus asked impatiently. "Who foots the bill? And if nobody
does, do we just end up with a derelict building dirtying up the town?"

Lahra's eyes flashed with
annoyance as she replied forcefully. "I understand that being the
businessman you are,
Cary,
you will want to view things from the bottom
line. But you can't put a price on passion. You can't do a deal with people's
feelings. History shows that if people want something badly enough, they will
find a way." She paused, realising that her words were carrying a personal
meaning she hadn't expected. "For now, though, it's first things first. I
hope you're able to see through your pecuniary perception of the world and get
in touch with the things that matter most. Emotion. Feeling. People."

Dave went to break in, but
before he could, Marcus spoke. "One more comment then, if I may. I'm sure
that the earnestness of your protest will have made an impression on the
developers in question. Perhaps if you set up a meeting, some negotiation could
take place. Surely negotiation is something that both businessmen and cinema
lovers understand."

"Perhaps so,"
Lahra said slowly, trying to guess exactly what Marcus had in mind. She
scribbled again on the pad as she spoke. "But I'd have to remain sceptical
about these particular developers being able to offer much at all." She
held the pad up to Dave. It read 'stop him but don't hang up'.

"Thanks for the call,
Cary. We'll take some more calls, right after we play a little music."
Dave pressed buttons, music played, and they were off the air. "I'm
guessing this Cary guy is the opposition," he said to Lahra.

"Can I still speak to
him?"

"Sure, go right
ahead." Dave pressed a button and the line opened to Lahra's headphones.

"Okay, Marcus, what do
you want?" she demanded.

"Just to talk. Let's
meet. I have a proposition you may be interested in. Why don't you meet me at
my place this afternoon at two?"

"Sorry. Neutral
territory."

"Fine. You know the
picnic area by Seahorse Falls?"

"Yes." Lahra knew
the picturesque clearing with its small waterfall well. It was just a few
kilometres down the river from her house. Her family had picnicked there often.

"Meet me there at two.
You may be interested in what I have to say."

"Okay," Lahra said
hesitantly. "Two o'clock."

"See you then."

The line went dead, and
Lahra was aware of all eyes on her.

"Want me to come?"
Wally asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.

Lahra envisaged her and
Marcus by the waterfall. She couldn't imagine what he was going to say. And she
found it even harder to imagine what she might feel if she were to go to him
alone. "No," she replied at last. "I'll be fine. But
thanks." She gave Wally a smile, but her mind was already stepping into the
green surrounds of Seahorse Falls. Her eyes were already looking into the
green-gold depths of the man who had become her neighbour, her adversary, and
something else—something she didn't dare stop to think about.

"Well guys, get ready
for round two," Dave said suddenly, fingers poised over switches.
"We're back on the air in five, four, three, two, one..."

*

As Lahra switched off the
Jeep’s engine, an eerie feeling crept through her chest and made its way to the
extremities of her body. She almost felt like she was in an old 8mm home movie.
The type that her parents had toyed with before the days of home video cameras.

Her most vivid memory of
Seahorse Falls was a picnic her family had enjoyed when she was twelve years
old. It was Spring then, too, but not an overcast, windy day like today. The
memory was so vivid she could feel the sun's warmth on her arms and back as she
sat on the river's edge with her father watching the way the water ran over the
rocks on the river bed. She had asked her father why the place was named
Seahorse Falls, and he had pointed to the rock outcrop on the other side of the
small waterfall. His finger had traced in the air the rough outline of a sea
horse in the rock formations. Then he had put his arm around her and said
"Nature is full of hidden surprises. All you have to do is look for
them." And after lunch the four of them had laid back in the grass and
made shapes out of the clouds that passed overhead.

The memory coaxed a smile
onto Lahra's face. She got out of the warmth of the car, walked into the
clearing and past two picnic tables to the Ulonga-Bora River. A cold snap of
wind hit her as she reached the bank—the spot where she and her father had sat
all those years ago. Past the raging waterfall she could make out the sea horse
shape in the rocks. She looked down into the water but no rocks were
distinguishable on the river bed. The water was too deep and running too
strong. Even if the dark clouds hadn't reflected black in the cold water, she
still wouldn't be able to see the bottom.

The crunching of tyres on
gravel came to her ears, and she turned to see the black BMW pull up beside the
white Jeep. The top was closed, and the tinted windows made the car look like
an inhospitable cocoon. Immediately, her heart began to race, and she folded
her arms tightly around herself and waited.

Marcus emerged. He wore the
same faded jeans that he had been wearing that morning, hiking boots and a
thick canvas jacket with leather collar. He looked good. Which only served to
make Lahra's job all the more difficult.

As he approached her, with
something like a welcoming smile on his face, she became uncomfortably aware of
the raging water at her back. She wanted to move away from it, but it was too
late. Marcus was virtually upon her. She was trapped.

"Well, if it isn't
Cary," Lahra taunted, hoping that a brave front would disguise her
nervousness.

He smiled and popped his
eyebrows up and down. "I don't often work under a pseudonym, but after my
activities had been besmirched all over the local press and radio I figured I'd
get a fairer hearing if I didn't use my real name."

"Perhaps next time you
should pick something more suitable to your character. Moriarty, perhaps. Or
Darth Vader."

"Darth Vader became a
good guy in the end. So you just never know, do you? Besides, if you were so
determined to fight me why didn't you just expose me on the air? I half
expected you to."

"You have a right to
tell your side of the story, Marcus. Which is why we're having the meeting
tomorrow night. I expect you'll be there, seven o'clock. Though I'm sure we'll
do fine without you."

"With luck things won't
have to go that far, Lahra. Perhaps there's a way we can put an end to all
this."

The softness and genuine
tone in his voice touched Lahra unexpectedly. His eyes were dark, almost sad,
as he looked at her, and she could feel herself weakening by the second.
"So what is it? Why did you ask me here on a freezing day like this?"

"Before I get on to
that, I just need to say something. You probably don't think very much of me
Lahra. But I keep thinking of the other night and of how you made me feel. And
I don't mean when you kicked me out." His massaging tone was breaking its
way through every barrier she set up inside her. She became aware of her hands
clenched tightly under her arms, and made an effort to relax them. "This
may be the wrong time to say anything like this, but when we kissed it was
almost as if I was transported. For those brief instants I forgot who I was. It
was like I became a part of you, of who you are. I've never felt that way
before, Lahra. Which only made what followed even more of a shock."

Lahra felt dizzy. Why was
Marcus saying these things to her? These revealing, beautiful things that
forced her to confront all the feelings she was trying to quell. She wanted to
find a place to look that wasn't his eyes, but there was nowhere. The rushing
sound of the water behind her mixed with the thumping of her pulse in her ears
until they became the same thing. At last, her throat unclenched enough for her
to respond. "There were a few shocks that evening."

"What I'm driving
at," Marcus continued, "is that at first I thought you were driven by
some personal grudge to do with Walter losing his job. I could understand your
anger, but I knew that it would pass with time if that's all it was.

"But now I know it's
much more than that. I admit that when I first saw the newspaper I was ropable.
I thought you were making a personal attack on me. As if you were betraying me
by publishing the things I'd told you. You must know that I have a lot to lose
if this project isn't a success.

"But since then I've
been trying to put myself in your shoes. Remembering the things you told me the
other night. Thinking about the passion in your voice whenever you talk about
the Miracle.

"And I realised that it
was that same passion that had affected me when we kissed. The very thing that
had drawn me to you was now getting between me and my goal. As much as I hate
things getting in my way, I have to respect your determination."