Page 73 - WTP Vol. VI #4

looked up with sleepy eyes to see the old man tumble through the door, just a couple of yards from where she ate.
chest. The man’s hat was tipped down and his legs were crossed at the ankles, the heel of his left boot sunken in the grass. He’d been there for quite some time. Luisa Santiaga stood about five feet in front of him.
Jedediah did smile when he saw that gentle horse. His belly was numb already, and he stood there, held a hand against the puncture in his jacket, felt the morning sun warm his face, then drew a welcome breath of the good fresh air.
She frowned, arms folded, reluctant to get too close. The breeze was cold. She’d tied her hair and she wore a wool hat and a bulky parka. Her horse was secured to the bench; the reins had been looped three times, with a good strong knot for sure.
~
“What the?” asked Mr. Engstrom. He’d been wiping his shack’s counter when he looked out
“Mr. Arkansaugh?” Engstrom whispered it as he sat down.
“He saw the whale’s dark, celestial
eye, saw that some of the sky was blue, but the rest of it was black...”
I know you’re here, thought Jedediah: hello, Lu- isa. The bleed inside was almost done. The old man could feel the wind’s chill and he felt the rumble of the whale among the waves, sensed his friends out there, could see them, too, he believed, even with his eyes closed and from beneath the hat across his face. But his ears still rang, and he was now unable to speak. Didn’t want to, really, and he felt nothing at all below his ribs. There was some residual feeling in the upper torso and the arms, enough sensation to be persuaded that he’d settled into the bench and gotten his breathing under control. And he was relaxed.
to the old bench at the edge of the grassy bluff; he saw two people, one standing, one sitting, and he could see a horse. The fog was gone and the sky was blue. It was the clearest morning all week. He scratched the back of his head, and stared a while.
I’m fine, Jedediah thought: just fine. He saw the whale’s dark, celestial eye, saw that some of the sky was blue, but the rest of it was black, and the blackness was spreading, nipping at the waves, replacing them, creeping into the grass below his boots and probing with long dark fingers around his ankles and up across his legs.
“Mr. Arkansaugh, Luisa. Good morning!” Engstrom cried out above the wind coming in off the sea. Now he was outside, walking toward the bench, and carrying his binoculars and a styrofoam cup of strong, black coffee. “I have everything you need, Mr. Arkansaugh. Luisa, anythin’ I can fetch for you?”
If Jedediah could really have seen Engstrom, he’d have thought him a dear fool. His friend had put the binoculars in the old man’s lap, still hoping, and set the coffee on the grass beside his boots. But his friend had also noticed the fattened enve- lope poking out the top of Jedediah’s jacket. And it would be this kind and gentle friend who’d de-
She gazed at Engstrom, annoyed. “No, Nathan. Just get yourself here.”
Jedediah was seated with one hand on his belly, the other gripped on the button at the top of his jacket; it was like he’d been holding onto his
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