Chapter Five: Concealed in Darkness

 

The moment the rain started, Reverend Helman ordered everyone out of the flood-prone field, warning all that where they stood was a low-lying area and was susceptible to flash floods. The heavy-hearted mourners scattered, obeying the command. Springtime and her family raced up a steep hill that overlooked Tilry’s grave, and there they halted, breathless.

From her vantage point, Springtime’s eyes roved over the field. Nothing much seemed to have changed about the landscape. The open grave lay in the center of the waving sea of grasses; the trees bordering the field angrily whipped their branches in deadly arcs in the wild gusts of wind; the flowers stood firm and proud despite the rain’s relentless assualt on their delicate stems and fragile leaves. But the atmosphere of the bright, sunny days in the past was no longer the same. It was darker, intangibly heavier. . .harder to bear, somehow.

“Where did Cloudy go?” Scazzarda yelled to Springtime over the roar of the rain.

“She went off with Liloy to find Sir Meta Knight, I think,” Springtime shouted back. “I’m sure they’ll arrive soon.” I pray, she added mentally.

Scazzarda shielded her eyes from the blinding rain droplets and peered across the field to the woods. She stood there a few minutes, waiting for her son, his friend, and his daughter to reappear from among the trees. The women, their veils and shawls flap-flapping in the wind like ghostly banners, and the men, their faces set, waited behind her. No one uttered a sound.

At length, three figures emerged from the dark woods and walked toward the group clustered on the hillside. They were Meta Knight, Cloudy, and Liloy. All three were soaked and their appearances were bedraggled, but they appeared to be okay.

Scazzarda waited until the three crossed the field, climbed up the hill, and joined the group. Then she reached out and took her son into her arms, embracing him tightly. “Magnus, I was so worried about you!” she said softly. “You ran off and I didn’t know what had happened to you! I’m glad little Cloudy and your daughter went after you and made sure you were okay.” She drew back a little and looked deep into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer for the longest time; instead, he looked over at Cloudy and Liloy, who gazed back at him, their eyes shadowed, their faces dark. At last, he turned back to his mother and quietly said, “I am all right, Mother. I appreciate your concern.”

Scazzarda heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re okay, Magnus, I would hate for anything to happen to you.” His eyes flashed gray, but she didn’t notice, thankfully. It’s better to keep her in the dark about the whole thing. . .or is it? Cloudy wondered.

Reverend Helman came up to the group and looked out over the field, which was already beginning to flood. The mucky, muddy water formed puddles in the beaten, pressed corners of the field; the mud made a sucking sound when anyone stepped in it and tried to pull his foot back out. “Thank God we got out of there when we did,” he spoke gravely. “We managed to fill in the grave, but if it floods any more the casket’s liable to be lifted out of the grave and possibly tossed somewhere.”

Cloudy shuddered at the thought of waking up and opening her front door to a casket lying on the porch. Goosebumps prickled along her skin; shivers crawled down her spine. The rain continued to pour down on her, making her feel even more cold, wet, and miserable than she already was. The sun was nowhere to be seen; only thick, grayish-black clouds covered the sky.

“Come on, dear,” Springtime said quietly, steering her away from the congregation of mourners. “Let’s go home.”

Cloudy turned, about to walk away with her family, then paused and looked back one last time at the headstone on which was crudely carved the name “Tilry Stellarum.” She couldn’t believe he was dead, lying in the dirt, and would soon become part of the dust. She glumly recalled the Bible verse of Genesis 3:19, “. . .for dust you are and to dust you will return.” It was a truth undeniable, she knew, but this was the first time she had ever witnessed a process that would soon lead to the outcome of that verse. She turned her face away from the grave and fell into step with her mother, heading down the hill, taking great care to avoid large puddles.

 

* * * * *

 

Meanwhile, Liloy and her friend from high school, Lilith Manshion, were walking down the hill and back to Liloy’s house. Lilith was expressing her sorrow for Liloy’s husband’s passing. “He was a great person,” she said. “It’s too bad he had to die. He would have loved to see his child.”

Liloy sighed and looked up to the roiling sky. Now was the time to reveal her innermost thoughts. “Lilith, I’ve been thinking about something very important, and I need your opinion on this. You’re a great friend of mine, and I know you’ll have some ideas.”

“Sure, I’ll help,” Lilith answered, pausing and gazing intently at her friend. “What do you want to talk about?”

Liloy inhaled and then slowly let her breath out, choosing her words carefully. “What am I going to do about my baby?” she wondered. “Now that Tilry’s gone, there’s no way I can raise him on my own. I’m not even eighteen yet!” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Tilry was the only reason I hung on for as long as I did, but since he died, my rope has been down to a thread.”

Lilth placed her hand on Liloy’s. “Dear, I know how you feel in this situation, and I believe I can provide an answer to your dilemma. It may not be easy, but sometimes the hardest choice is the right one.”

“Really?” Liloy perked up. “What is it?”

Lilith looked over at a dead oak tree rotting away in the misty rain, which was tapering off. “Let go of what you love,” she said. Then seeing Liloy’s puzzled expression, hastened to add, “To put it simply yet nicely, opting for a different path.”

Liloy halted right in her tracks and stared wide-eyed at her friend. “Are you saying to end my pregnancy?!” she exclaimed. “Lilith, how could you advise such a thing!”

“I was only making a suggestion,” Lilith said condescendingly. “Of course, you don’t have to do it, you know. You could just raise him yourself.”

“W-Why can’t I just put him up for adoption or something?” Liloy heatedly demanded.

“Maybe you could,” Lilith replied, “but what if no one adopts him? What if he remains in the orphanage or foster care section for the rest of his life, being worked hard and ordered about day after day? Or what if you do decide to raise him and he doesn’t have a mattress to sleep on, can’t get a proper education, or when he’s older, a well-paying job? What if he has to live on the street, barely eating, barely surviving, because of the lack of money? And all because his mother chose the harder route of suffering instead of doing the kinder thing that would allow him to live in peace?”

“I —” Liloy wanted to speak, to tell Lilith she disagreed with her friend’s interpretation of sacred life, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. Somehow, she had the weirdest feeling that perhaps Lilith was right. Maybe her baby never would get adopted. Maybe they would have to live on the street because she couldn’t adequately provide for him. Maybe getting the load of a new child off her mind and body would ease the tension and the ache of being left behind. But a voice in her heart whispered to her that doing such a thing would not bring relief, only regret.

“What were you going to say?” Lilith looked sidewise at Liloy, her blueish-purple eyes curious.

“I—I—” Liloy suddenly didn’t have the heart to tell Lilith her true thoughts. “I was just going to say that—I will. . .definitely.  .  .think about what you said.”

“You’d do well to,” Lilith answered, beginning to walk again. “I am your friend, and I am only trying to help.”

“I know,” Liloy answered under her breath in a mournful tone, trailing behind her friend.

 

* * * * *

 

That evening, Springtime’s family was sitting around the kitchen table, eating dinner. The rain hammered mercilessly outside, its pitter-pattering making a tinkling noise on the roof. Springtime was only about a fourth through her food when she noticed Cloudy was not in her usual spot. Springtime cast a helpless glance at her husband and saw the troubled look in his eyes, the creased expression of worry on his face. The funeral had no doubt really taken a toll on Cloudy. And I don’t think the fact that I tried to practically shove her over to look at Tilry in his casket helped much either, she thought regretfully. I’m sorry, Cloudy. If I had only know how much this would have affected you, I would never have brought you to the ceremony.

“What’s taking Cloudy so long?” Sniper inquired, sinking his teeth into his third wiener. “She’s missing all this good food!”

“I’ll go see to her,” Springtime offered, rising from the table.

But just as she left the kitchen and crossed the parlor, a rap came on the door. She went to open it, and was deftly surprised to see Meta Knight with his daughter and mother. All three were drenches in mud and rain and looked tired.

“I’m sorry if we intruded into your nightly routine,” Scazzarda apologized, “but I am leaving on a short drive to my sister’s house in Blackville and I don’t want Magnus to be left alone in the cabin. Liloy shouldn’t be alone either, so I brought them here. Hope you don’t mind.”

“O-Of course I d-don’t,” Springtime stammered, trying to get over her amazement at three Stellarum members randomly showing up on her front doorstep at eight o’clock at night. Still, she figured, Scazzarda must be pretty desperate to get these two with company if she walks all the way over here this late. “We’ll find a place for them to sleep tonight.”

“Thanks,” Scazzarda whispered gratefully. Then she disappeared into the slushy, inky blackness of rain.

Springtime escorted father and daughter inside and shut the door. The two stood on the welcome mat, dripping rain onto the floor and creating rivulets of water. “Oh, my,” Springtime chuckled. “How rude of me to stand around nice and dry while you two are probably cold and wet. I’ll quickly run upstairs and grab some towels, and then I’ll make two extra plates of food. After all, in this house, all are welcome!”

“Except for creeps!” Sniper yelled through the partway-open kitchen door.

“Yeah. . .except for creeps.” Springtime then rushed off to do the deeds she had promised Meta Knight and Liloy.

 

* * * * *

 

Springtime pushed open Cloudy’s bedroom door and discovered her child sitting on the bed, the snowy lace canopy curtain creating a mystical appearance around her. Cloudy stared broodingly at the wall, her eyes devoid of any happiness. The joy she felt when she had first heard about Tilry’s possible recovery had been tarnished when he had fallen ill again and completely disintegrated when he had died. Springtime looked out at the rain and saw the sheets descending hard by the hazy ring of the lamppost’s light. Then she came over to he daughter and sat beside her. “Meta Knight’s here with Liloy,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Maybe you’d like to see them?”

Cloudy didn’t answer. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t the answer Springtime had expected. “As long as they’re actually here,” she said in a tone which indicated something other than doubt in her mother. Instead, it indicated a shadow that grasped joy and vanished, leaving behind only the wind of bewilderment, tears, and anger. Death was the name of that shadow.

Springtime was taken aback a moment, but said, “Darling, this funeral has really messed with your mind, hasn’t it?”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” the puppy replied, standing and walking to the window.

“You’re right,” Springtime said. “It should not have happened. But because Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden, now sin has cursed the world. Everyone sins. And God says that the punishment for sin is death.”

Cloudy heard, but the words didn’t penetrate her heart. She murmured to herself, “It shouldn’t have happened.” And again she repeated those painfully truthful words, “It shouldn’t have, and yet. . .I knew it would.”

Springtime started, alarmed suddenly. “What do you mean, you knew it would happen?”

Cloudy frowned, puckering her brow as she tried to think of how explain her vison of a few days before. “I had a dream,” she said slowly, “and in my dream, I was on a platform that kept turning in all directions. And everywhere I turned, I saw Tilry lying in a casket. When I woke up, I began to wonder if that was another vision I had, since Jacob once told me I had a rare gift for glimpsing the future on rare occasions.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this from the start?” Springtime said.

“I don’t know,” Cloudy said, hanging her head as if she had done something wrong. “I guess I just didn’t.”

There was a quietness so still Springtime almost wished she could hear a pin drop or a crash of thunder. But none of those two things occurred; the room remained silent. And in the strangest way, Springtime though, chills running down her spine, that almost reminds of Tilry. He who once spoke will now forever be silent. . .we’ll never hear your voice again, Tilry, this side of heaven.

 

* * * * *

 

“So your vision served as a forewarning to Tilry’s death,” Meta Knight spoke in a slow, hynotic monotone, staring upward at the rain falling violently and tilting the grass stalks.

“Yeah,” Cloudy said in a hushed voice. “I guess it was. But I suppose at the time, I just didn’t know it.”

The two friends were sitting on the porch, watching the rain and discussing the events of the past week.

Meta Knight released a pained sigh. “I never dreamed such a tragedy would befall my family so soon. And Liloy. . .she so wanted him to see her baby. But now he’s gone. And he’ll never come back. He—” He buried his face in his hands and began to cry, deep sobs wracking his frame. “Why—Why did it have to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Cloudy answered, feeling misery swell up deep within her, threatening to drown her. “I don’t know why it happened, Meta Knight. But it shouldn’t have. It never should have.” She took a deep breath as she lifted her face to the sky and took a few timid steps closer to the porch railing. The rain blew against her face, stinging her nose and forehead. She didn’t flinch in the slightest, though. And suddenly, the rain, the gray clouds, the darkness—it all seemed to remind her of something that once she had taken for granted but now she knew she would no longer. “We can never go back,” she whispered, her voice sounding louder against the roaring rain. “We can only go forward. Forward is the only way left to us now. The past is past; the future is before us. That’s the only way we can go. On and on we must push.”

The words danced in her head. On and on. . .On and on. . .On and on. . . The beat pounded in her head, making her feel woozy and disoriented. She felt as if she were spinning out of space and time. Meta Knight didn’t move; his face remained concealed in his hands; his figure shook with sobs.

Cloudy put out a paw and let the rain cascade over it, wishing she could wash away the memories and scars of this horrible day from her mind. More than that, she wished she could go back in time and change history. She wished she could change the outcome of what was. But it didn’t work that way, though, and she knew it. They could never go back; forward was the only path worth choosing this side of heaven.