Under the Cypress Moon (39 page)

"You got a ring then," asked Darius, his arms still crossed as he now leaned backward into a large Live Oak tree.

"No, Sir, not yet, but with your approval, I'll start lookin' right away.  My fear is that Shylah might say no.  I'm scared, Sir.  I want her to say yes, and I want to do right by her and by your family.  I wanna do what the Lord would have me do.  What if she says no?"

"Mark, I'm gonna be honest with you here," confronted Darius, leaning forward away from the tree.  "This isn't how I pictured things or would've had 'em, but this is how it's happenin'.  I don't know.  Maybe you and Shylah are perfect for each other.  Maybe this is exactly what the Lord wants.  He works his plans out in mysterious ways.  I see you're a good man, Mark.  I always knew you to be.  You've been like a son to us.  Maybe that's why this still feels funny.  You and Shylah are good together.  There's no doubt about that.  You have my blessing.  You just be good to her, and you ask her as soon as you get that ring.  I think she's gonna say yes.  You don't have no worries here.  She feels the same about you as you do about her.  Anybody can see it.  And if she don't say yes, she's gonna have her mama and her daddy to worry about.  We ain't about to let her have a child and not marry the father.  It's how it is.  It is what's right.  You just do what you gotta do, and we'll support ya.  But I do have to say this.  Ya'all better plan on gettin' married at the church, by Reverend Hill.  Don't you go gettin' married by that blasphemous Dan Gordon over at your daddy's church.  How ol' Tim ever turned out good as he did is plain mysterious to me."

"I see you know what the man is like.  Well, you wouldn't have to worry about it anyway after what he told me and Shylah the other day at the funeral.  He said that what we're doin' is a sin and gave us this long speech about his thoughts on it.  I couldn't wait to get away from him, but even if I actually wanted anything to do with him, he'd never agree to marryin' us.  What's funny is that after church, Reverend Hill came and talked to us and told us how good we look together and that if we ever do get married, that we should have the wedding there and let him do the services.  I told him to be expectin' it."  For the first time that day, Mark felt relieved enough and truly jubilant enough to let loose in unmeasured joyous laughter, shaking so hard that he had to rest against the tree to his right side in order to keep from falling over, almost hugging it.

"Wait.  You talked to Reverend Hill about this before talkin' to me," Darius nearly screamed, trying to keep from being heard by those inside the house but adamant about Mark knowing his hurt and disapproval.

"No.  It's not like that.  He doesn't know about the baby.  He just said to keep the church in mind for gettin' married, and we told him we would and that he should expect it one day.  It was nothin' more than that, I promise you, Sir."  Mark now felt the worries wandering back into his mind, making it even more difficult to stand.  His dizziness that the doctor warned him about was beginning to take such effect that it was staggering, overwhelming, and potentially very dangerous.

With no other words needing said, both men headed back into the house to join the rest of the family for their Sunday afternoon meal.  Everything was fine and to everyone's satisfaction, though Darius occasionally shot Mark a look that seemed to say, "You'd better go through with it."  Mark knew that he must but that much more than that, he really wanted to do it.

After a long while, it finally dawned on Mark that he and Shylah had left Thomas all alone.  He seemed perfectly sedated by his medicines; however, Mark knew that it was time to check on him.  Gathering Shylah away from her parents and her brother, he escorted her to the truck and made the long drive home.  When they arrived, Thomas was well awake, worried, and back to his lapse of short-term memories. 

"Where have you been," Thomas snapped.  "Where the hell have... ugh... have you been, Michael?!"

Again, Mark ignored his father's ignorance of who he really was, trying to find no hurt in the matter.  "We were at church, Daddy, and then havin' some food.  You were out cold when we left.  We thought you'd be ok sleepin'."

"Well, I wasn't!  I've been awake a long time, wonderin' where the hell everybody is!  Where's your mama?!"

"Daddy..."  Mark could not even finish, knowing that telling his father that he had no wife, that she had passed many years prior, would do no good. 

"Go get your mama.  And why am I in bed?  Why... ugh... why am I hooked up to these machines?!  Get your mama!  I need to talk to her."

Mark, trying to hide the coming tears, turned his head to Shylah and told her that she should go.  He would tend to his father, as painful as it would prove to be.  Mark stayed with his father until he fell back to sleep, and after changing the man's catheter, he left the room, contented that he had done his familial duties and could lose himself in something, anything that would remove his mind far from the sad state of affairs at hand.

Mark convinced Shylah that they should steal away to the grove of cypress trees to the north of the house, the place where they had had their very happy occasion of love nights previous.  Shylah eagerly agreed and grabbing the baby monitor and a blanket, followed Mark out of the house and across the large, manicured lawn toward the grove.

Laying the blanket out, the couple took seats on the ground under the very large, overhanging canopy above.  As Shylah rested her hand on Mark's leg, quickly being taken up by Mark's hand, the woman remarked, frightfully, "Do we have to worry about anything here?"

"What do you mean by that," Mark asked, unsure of Shylah's words and puzzled terribly by them.

"Is there anything that's gonna crawl out of the swamp and get us?"

"Baby, the swamp is a good ways away, and hardly anything ever comes out of it, but if a snake or somethin' comes this way, don't worry.  He won't eat much."

"Thanks," Shylah replied, slapping Mark hard on the thigh.  "That's reassuring!"

After an hour or so of resting upon the blanket together, talking about nothing much in particular, the sun began to dip down and release the moon into its place, the sky darkening gradually and welcomed by those waiting in watch. 

"Beautiful night with a beautiful woman," Mark calmly and exuberantly  exclaimed.   "Seems a little too perfect, but I ain't complainin'!"

"It is pretty, isn't it," Shylah agreed.  "It's times like this that let me just relax and forget my troubles.  You don't need to get far away when you're stressed.  You just need good company and a place like this."

As the moon showed its fullness rising in the night sky, Mark and Shylah laid their heads down on the blanket, rolling around with one another, passionately kissing each other, running their hands all over, completely enjoying the moment and the aloneness they shared, an aloneness that could be had only with their mutual company, alone from all other people and from all worries. 

Soon, the touching and kissing turned to far more, to a gentle removing of each other's clothing and touching of bare skin until the two were lost in each other's eyes and caresses. 
They made passionate and desperately conjoined love several times before any thoughts of returning to the house or to the life inside of it entered their minds.  No other moment in the relationship thus far had seemed quite as perfect or overtaking, so benevolent and giving of its bounties.  The only witnesses to the event were the animals concealed in the trees all around, the stars overhead, and the moon that they sheltered.

The place would now become Mark's and Shylah's getaway location, their respite from the world.  Night after night, they would come to it to give themselves fully to one another without the threat of interruption or concern that lay within the confines of the high walls of Crady Manor.

The rest of the night in question went off without a further hitch.  Thomas slept throughout the night as if he were a newborn babe, secluded in its cradle next to its mother's bed.  Day would come, as it always does, but this with so much less worry than usual.  Mark arose, ready for the day, ready to accomplish the tasks he set for himself, though not so eager to strip himself of Shylah's loving arms and leave her to deal with Thomas.  Mark encouraged Shylah to call her cousin, Shawntel, and offer her the job of live-in nurse for Thomas.  Mark desperately hoped that the woman would accept and would begin the job that very day, in order to relieve Shylah of such unfair obligation.

The more that Mark and Shylah prayed for things to go their way, the more they did.  Everything seemed to fall right into place, far better than either could have hoped.  A larger than normal cleanup crew showed up at the plant, removing ample amounts of debris while repairs and construction were immediately begun.  With the substantial bank loan about to come through, Mark and Don agreed that they should double the plant expansion.  They had enough land for it but until that time, did not believe that they would have enough money.  The furnace company began their work of removing the old and faulty furnaces from the plant in order to replace them with newer, more efficient models.  Mark even paid, though quite reluctantly, the millions of dollars of government fines so that the ordeal could be ended. 

Upon Shylah's offer to her cousin, Shawntel immediately and ecstatically said yes, showing up before noon to assess the situation, the house, and her patient.  Money was not discussed, though Shylah assured that anything that was asked would be given.  Mark even found time to slip away from the plant in the afternoon to visit a nearby jewelry store.  He picked out a very intricately-layered, though incredibly expensive, diamond ring to use to propose marriage to Shylah.  Until the receipt of the ring, Mark would live in utter and exhausting anticipation, much as he did regarding the ensuing and inevitable approach of his father's death.

Night after night, Mark made sure that he spent every possible moment with Shylah, stealing away at every opportunity to the cypress grove, hours passing in loving bliss of hopeful and embracing solitude.  Mark wanted so badly ever time to be able to pull the ring from his pocket and ask the question that ate daily upon his mind, making him feel as though the time between each moment and the realization of his dream would be an unbearable eternity. 

By week's end, the plant had been thoroughly cleaned, repair were largely completed, construction was well under way, and all of the old furnaces had been removed.  It seemed as though, despite the immense expense of things, that the plant would be up and running in no time.  It began to weight on Mark's mind that everything had gone too well, far too well, and that there must be something bad looming in the not too distant future. 

All that had gone wrong the entire week was the receipt of some of Cyrus Donovan's initial medical bills and the learning of his need for numerous skin grafts and surgeries. Cyrus' face would be permanently disfigured, no matter the efforts of his doctors, and it would be some time before he would be back to functional health.  Mark felt so awful about it all that he could hardly bear to visit Cyrus, though he knew that he must and made two trips to see the man after his release from the burn unit of the Atlanta hospital, subsequently being moved to the hospital just down the road so that he could be close to his family.  His first skin graft had gone off without hindrance, and all future grafts would be performed at the other hospital, making things so much easier on all of his loved ones.  Cyrus was always of good cheer when Mark visited, but each sighting of the man in his horrid state filled Mark with utter internal disgust for himself. 

The bills that Mark received by Friday of that week already totaled nearly one hundred thousand dollars, but Mark happily paid them before the end of the day.  He wanted there to be no reasons for anyone to be cross with him or for anyone to claim that he had not lived up to his promise to the Donovan family.  Everything else seemed to be going well.  Mark distanced his mind, the best that he could, from the thoughts of what Cyrus Donovan still had before him, even just from the knowledge that Cyrus would remain in the hospital for at least a couple of more weeks and then face at least several more skin grafts in the months to come. 

As Mark readied himself to leave the plant for what he hoped to be a weekend of fun and relaxation with Shylah, his phone began to ring, catching him a bit off guard, causing him to drop it on the floor.  As he knelt to find it, it having slipped under his desk, Mark noticed that it was Shylah calling him.  For some reason, the thought made him nervous.  He did not know why.  A feeling deep within his gut told him that the call would not be a happy one.

Fumbling and shaking, Mark pressed the send button to answer the call.  "Hey, Baby."

"Mark, Honey, I hope you're sitting down."  These words confirmed what Mark suspected. He wondered what the news would be, but it would obviously not be welcomed.

"Actually, I'm on the floor."

"Why are you on the floor exactly?"

"I dropped my phone and had to get down and look for it."

"Well," Shylah hesitatingly replied, "I have some news, and you're not gonna like it.  I really wish you were sittin' down, Baby."

Mark pulled himself to his chair and braced himself.  "I'm sitting now."

"Ok.  Baby, I'm really really sorry, and I wish I didn't have to tell you this.  Your dad..."

"My dad?  My dad what?"

"Baby, your dad just died."

Mark sat motionless and silent, unsure how he would proceed, but before he could think much about it, his chair slipped out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor with a hard thud that sent a shockwave of pain throughout his body.