An Acceptable Time (9 page)

Mr. Murry smiled. “That was at least partly his motivation in calling.”

His wife smiled back. “Cooking has never been Louise’s thing. She’s a perfectly adequate cook, but it’s not foremost on her mind.”

“And Nase has rather gourmet tastes,” he added.

“And you’re a terrific cook,” Polly said.

Her grandmother flushed. “Oh, dear, it does look as though I was fishing for a compliment.”

“A well-earned one,” her husband said.

“I enjoy cooking. It’s therapy for me. Louise’s therapy is her rose garden. You may note, Polly, that we don’t have any roses.”

“Accept it graciously, my love,” her husband said. “You’re a good cook.”

“Thanks, dearest.” She sat down, elbows on table, chin in hands. “Polly, there is the matter of your parents.”

Polly looked at her questioningly.

“Your grandfather believes that you are right, that it would not be safe to take you out of the tesseract, to send you back to Benne Seed. And if I didn’t take his fear seriously, you’d be with your parents right now.”

“How far can I go?” Polly asked. “How far away from the time threshold?”

Her grandfather folded his paper. “I’m not sure. About ten or so miles, I’m guessing. Maybe more. Maybe as far as Anaral and her people ranged. But not up in a plane. Not across the country.”

“Well, I really am in the tesseract.” And she told them about Anaral’s visit.

Her grandparents gave each other troubled looks.

“Don’t tell Mother and Daddy,” Polly urged. “Not yet. We don’t know enough. It sounds too impossible.”

Her grandfather said, “If I know your father, he’d come and get you and there’d be no reasoning with him. And that could be fatal.”

“I hate secrets,” her grandmother said. “But I agree it would be best to keep silent for a few days.”

“Till after Halloween,” her grandfather said.

“Tomorrow,” her grandmother added.

“Samhain,” Polly said.

“We’ll tell them everything on Sunday when they call,” her grandmother said.

Both grandparents looked at Polly, and then at each other, unhappily.

The morning passed without incident. Polly spent an hour with her grandmother in the lab, till her toes grew too cold. Then she went to her room, to sit at her desk and write out responses to some of the questions her grandmother had asked her. She found it unusually difficult to concentrate. At last she shut her notebook and went downstairs. It was time for a brisk walk before lunch.

She had promised not to walk across the field to the woods and the star-watching rock, so she walked along the dirt road the house faced. Originally it had been one of the early post roads, but with the changing of demographics it was now only a lane. The garage led to a paved road, with farms above, a few dwellings below. The lane wandered along, past pastures, groves, bushes. It was a pleasant place to walk, and Polly ambled along, picking an assortment of flowering autumn weeds.

When she got home, Dr. Louise had called to say that she had an emergency and would not be able to get away for dinner. Could they come the next day? Nase very much wanted to be with Polly on Thursday.

Thursday came, crisp and beautiful. The autumn days were perfect, blue and gold, with more and more leaves falling. Polly worked with her grandfather in the morning, studying some advanced mathematics. Around eleven he took off for town to get his chainsaw sharpened, and her grandmother as usual was in the lab.

She walked to the end of the lane and back. A little over a mile. Then she crossed the field to the stone wall. She would go no farther than that. Surely just to the stone wall should be all right.

Louise the Larger was there, basking in the sun. Polly was used to all kinds of odd marine animals, and her father had once had a tank of eels for some experimental purpose, but she knew little about snakes. Polly looked at Louise, lying placidly in a puddle of golden light, but did not feel enough at ease to sit down on the wall beside her.

As though aware of her hesitancy, Louise raised her head slightly, and Polly thought the snake nodded at her kindly before sliding down into the wall and out of sight. Or was she anthropomorphizing, reading human behavior into the snake?

Snake in Ogam was
nasske
. It was on the bishop’s vocabulary list. So that meant that the people who used that language knew about snakes. She continued to stare at the wall, but when there was no sign of Louise after a few minutes, Polly sat down. The stones felt warm and comforting. This was as far as she could go without breaking her promise. The breeze ruffled the leaves remaining on the trees which leaned over the wall, making shifting patterns of light and shadow. The day was gold and amber and russet and copper and bronze, with occasional flashes of flame.

A rustling sound made her turn around and there, on the other side of the wall, stood the tow-headed young man, holding his spear. He beckoned to her.

“I can’t come. I’m sorry, I promised,” she explained, and realized that he could not understand her.

He smiled at her. Pointed to himself. “Tav.” She returned his smile.

“Polly,” she replied, pointing to herself.

He repeated after her, “Poll-ee.” Then he looked up, pointed at the sun, then pointed at her hair, and clapped his hands joyfully.

“I’m just an old carrot top.” She blushed, because he was obviously admiring her hair.

Again he indicated the sun, and then her hair, saying, “
Ha lou
, Poll-ee.”

She visualized a page of Bishop Colubra’s notebook.
Ha lou
was a form of greeting. Easy enough to remember. The bishop’s notebook had contained various greetings used throughout the years: hallo, hello, hail, howdy, hi. The negative,
na
, was also simple.
No
in English,
non
in French,
nicht
in German,
nyet
in Russian. The
n
sound seemed universal, she thought, except in Greek, where the
neh
sound meant
yes
.

Tav beamed, and burst into a stream of incomprehensible words.

She smiled, shaking her head.
“Na.”
She did not have the vocabulary to say “I don’t understand.”

Carefully, tenderly, he placed his great spear on the ground. Then he sat beside her on the wall. Pointed to the sun.
“Sonno.”
Then, with utmost delicacy, his fingertips touched her hair, withdrew.
“Rhuadd.”
He held out his hand, spoke a word, and touched his eyes. Spoke again, and touched his nose. He was teaching her words of Ogam. Some of the words, such as
sun
and
red
, she recognized from Bishop Colubra’s vocabulary list. Others were new to her. Polly was a quick study, and Tav laughed in delight. After they had worked—or played—together for half an hour, he looked at her and spoke slowly, carefully. “You,
sonno
. Tav”—he touched his pale hair—“
mona
. You come tonight.”

She shook her head.

“It is big festival. Samhain. Music. Big music. Much joy.”

She could understand him fairly well, but she could not yet put enough words together to explain to him that she had promised not to cross the wall, not to go to the star-watching rock. And did Tav understand that they were separated not only by the stone wall but by three thousand years?

Suddenly he leaped to his feet. Louise had come out of her hiding place. Tav reached for his spear.

“No!” Polly screamed. “Don’t hurt her! She’s harmless!”

If Tav did not understand her words, he could not miss her intent. She thrust herself between the snake and the young man.

He put down the spear, careful not to bruise the feathers. “I would only protect you,” he told her, in sign and body language as much as in words. “Snake has much power.
Mana
power, good power, but sometimes hurting power.”

Fumblingly, Polly tried to explain that Louise was a harmless black snake, and a special one, a family friend.

Tav let her know that Louise’s friendship was good. “You are gift. The Mother’s gift. You will come? Tonight?”

“I cannot. I—” What was the word for promise? Or for grandparents? Mother was something like
modr
. “Mother says no.” That was the best she could do.

He laughed. “Mother sent you! You will come!” He bent toward her again and delicately touched her hair with the tips of his fingers. It was like a kiss. Then he picked up his spear and walked along the path in the direction of the star-watching rock.

Polly went back to the house. His touch had been gentle, pleasing. He had actually compared her red hair to the sun. Her fear of him had vanished. But she also felt confused. Why had he been ready to kill Louise? Did he really think the snake was about to strike? What had he meant by good power and hurting power? His intent had certainly not been to kill for killing’s sake, but only to protect her.

At lunch she told her grandparents about Tav. They listened, made little comment. It was evident that they were deeply concerned. “I won’t cross the field to the stone wall again,” she promised. “But he was nice, really he was.”

“Three thousand years ago?” her grandfather asked wryly.

Her grandparents did not scold her for going to the stone wall. They were all unusually silent as they ate lunch.

Promptly at two, Zachary drove up in his red sports car. It struck Polly again how sheerly felicitous he was to behold, like Hamlet, she thought, Hamlet in modern dress. Black jeans and a pale blue cashmere turtleneck, his black jacket over his arm. Dark hair framing a pale face. Tav had likened Polly to the sun, and himself to the moon. Although Zachary’s hair was a dark asTav’s was fair, he was far more a moon creature than a sun creature.

He greeted her grandparents deferentially, pausing to sit and tell the Murrys a little about his work in the law office in Hartford. “Long hours at a desk,” he said. “I feel as though I’ve come out from under a stone. But I’m lucky to have got an internship, and I’m learning a lot.”

Again he was making a good impression, she thought.

“I’ve done some research on this Ogam stuff,” he said. “As a language, it isn’t that difficult, is it? It really does look as though this land was visited three thousand years ago, long before anyone thought. Primitive people weren’t nearly as primitive as we’d like to think, and they did an incredible amount of traveling to all kinds of places. And druids, for instance, were not ignorant savages who did nothing but slit the throats of sacrificial victims. They could navigate by the stars, and as a matter of fact, their knowledge of astronomy was astounding.”

“Bishop Colubra would agree with that,” Polly said.

Her grandparents were polite, but not enthusiastic.

Zachary said, “I’d really like to talk with the bishop. My boss, whom I’ve been pumping, is erudite and dull.”

Mr. Murry smiled. “Let’s keep Polly in the twentieth century.” But his smile was strained.

Zachary said, “Fine with me. Is there someplace around here we can go?”

As far as she knew, the village consisted of post office, store, church, filling station, and a farm-equipment place.

Her grandfather suggested quickly that they go to the country club, that he’d already called ahead to arrange a guest pass. Polly knew that her grandfather occasionally played golf when he needed to talk to a colleague without fear of being overheard. “It’s a lovely drive,” he told Zachary, “especially right now when the colors are still bright. But there’s not much going on at the club this time of year if you’re not a golfer.”

“My pop is,” Zachary said. “I plan to take it up when I’m rich and famous.”

“The swimming pool is closed for the winter. But you can get a soda and there are some nice walks.” It was obvious that he wanted them away from the house. And that, under the circumstances, was understandable.

“Do I look okay for the country club?” She was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.

“You’re fine,” Zachary and her grandparents assured her simultaneously.

“But take a jacket,” her grandmother added.

Polly and Zachary went out through the pantry and she took the red anorak off one of the hooks. Zachary pointed to the door to her grandmother’s lab. “What’s in there?”

“Grand’s lab.”

“Can we have a peek? I’m really honored to have met your grandmother, Pol, and I’d love to see where she works.”

“Just a peek.” She opened the door. “It’s verboten to go into the lab without Grand, but she won’t mind if we just look.”

Zachary peered in with interest, looking at the counter with its equipment. “What’s that?”

“It’s an electron microscope.”

“What’s it for?”

“Oh, lots of things. It proved, for instance, the existence of a plasma membrane bonding each cell, separating it from the internal environment. But I don’t think Grand’s used it in years. Most of her work is in her head.”

“Your parents are scientists, too, right?”

“My father’s a marine biologist. That’s why we’ve tended to live on islands. My mom does all his computer work. She’s a mathematical whiz.” She stepped back and shut the door carefully.

Zachary had not parked his car in the driveway but had left it on the dirt road which the house faced, so they walked across the lawn. “Listen,” he said. “I didn’t mean to turn you off with that phone call.”

“You didn’t.” But she looked at him questioningly.

He was looking at the house. “This is beautiful, your grandparents’ place. We don’t have any houses anywhere near this old in California.”

“I love it,” she said. “I’m really happy here.”

“I can understand that.” He held the car door open for her. As they started off, he pointed to the wing. “Hey, is that a swimming pool?”

“Yah, a small one. The doctor recommended it for Granddad’s arthritis.”

“That’s terrific. It’s the best exercise in the world, my doctor says. Is there good skiing around here?”

“Yes. Do you ski?”

He drove slowly along the dirt road. “Oddly enough, I do. Being a totally non-kinetic person, I’m not very good at it, but given time, I might improve. You ski?”

“I’ve spent my life in warm climates. But Grand says she’ll go skiing with me this winter.”

Once they were out on the highway, Zachary’s driving reminded her of Bishop Colubra’s, though it was probably a little less erratic.

“Gad, the fall’s glorious,” he said. “A couple of my prep schools weren’t far from here. But the colors always catch me in the throat. Look at that golden tree there. There aren’t many elms left. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“That it is. And there’s one maple we see from the kitchen windows that’s almost purple. I’ve never seen autumn colors before and I’m overwhelmed.”

“I’m glad you were here a week ago. It’s past its first glory now,” Zachary said, “but it’s still breathtaking.”

“Here we are.” Polly pointed to a sign that indicated the long driveway to the country club. At the top of the hill was a large white building with a gracious view across the valley—that valley which had been covered by a lake three thousand years ago.

Zachary led her into the bar, where he asked her what she wanted. “Don’t worry, sweet Pol. I’m driving, so I’m having a Coke. Do I remember that you like lemonade?”

“You do. How nice of you to remember.”

“There’s not much about you I’ve forgotten.” He ordered their drinks and they sat on high bar stools and the slanting autumn sunlight reached through the windows and touched Polly’s hair. Zachary whistled. “I’d forgotten how gorgeous you are.”

She could feel herself blushing. She understood that she was far better-looking now than she had been as an early adolescent, but she did not think of herself as beautiful, or even pretty, and now both Tav and Zachary were telling her that she was.

“You were lovely last summer in Greece,” Zachary said, “but you’re even better now. I’m glad I was able to find you.”

“Me, too.” She sipped at her lemonade, which was nicely tart. It had been an amazement to her the past summer in Athens that Zachary had wanted so much of her company; it was still an amazement to her.

“What do you do with yourself all day?”

“Oh, lots of things. Grand and Granddad worry about my being bored, but the days slide by so full it’s hard to realize at bedtime that another day has passed.”

“Full of what?”

“I study with my grandparents in the mornings. I hike. I swim. We’ve had friends over for dinner. It may not seem exciting, but it’s just what I need.” It didn’t sound exciting as she told it, but although Zachary had surprised her by knowing about the Ogam stones and, even more surprising, had seen Karralys, she was not ready to tell him about Anaral or Tav.

Then he reached into his leather pouch. “I brought you a present.”

“An unbirthday present!” Polly exclaimed. “Terrific.”

He handed her something flat and rectangular wrapped in wrinkled pink tissue paper. She removed the paper and there was a picture, backed by a thin piece of wood, of an angel, immensely tall, with great wings, bending protectively over a small child.

“A guardian-angel icon! It’s beautiful! Thank you!”

“I found it in a funny junk shop in Turkey, not long after I left you at Athens airport last summer. When I looked back to wave at you, you looked so sort of lost that I thought then that you needed a guardian angel. So, when I saw this, it made me think of you, and I got it, and thought I’d give it to you if ever we met again, and here we are.”

“Thanks, Zachary. Really. Thanks a lot.”

“It’s not an original or anything. I don’t suppose it has any real value.”

“I love it.” She put it carefully into the largest of the anorak pockets. “It was really nice of you to think of it.”

“Why do you sound so surprised? Is it because it’s a picture of an angel?”

“Well—sort of.”

“I suppose I made it quite clear that I don’t believe in anything.”

She nodded.

“Take what you can get. Right now. Because that’s all there is. That’s still my policy. But I had a grandmother who really believed in angels, and that they care for us.” He stopped, drained the dregs of ice from the bottom of his glass. “She loved me. Me, Zachary, not some projection.”

“Grandmothers are marvelous. Mine is. And Granddad, too.”

“I didn’t know my grandfather that well. Pa’s parents died young. The ones I knew were Ma’s parents, and they lived near us. My grandfather was a champion polo player, but he was thrown from his horse and his spine was crushed. And Grandma went right on believing in angels—and in me—while he cursed from his wheelchair till the day he died. Another lemonade?”

“No, thanks.”

“Shall we just drive around and see what we can see?”

“Sure. That would be nice.”

For the first few miles he was silent, and Polly thought that Zachary had just revealed to her, in talking of his grandparents, more than he had been willing to show when they were together in Athens. She glanced at his face, and it seemed very thin.

“Have you lost weight?” The question slipped out before she realized that it was a personal one and shouldn’t be asked.

“Some. Look, that maple’s completely bare.” He whistled a few notes, then said, “If autumn comes, can winter be far behind?”

“Where’s the whistle you had the other day?” she asked.

“Oh, I gave it to one of the office boys. I found it used too much wind.” He apologized quickly. “Sorry, Polly, sweet, sorry. I spend my days in an office, ruining my eyes and getting no exercise. At this point I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I still seem to want to learn all about insurance and all the legal ramifications.” He turned off onto a side road that wound through a pine forest.

“What about college?” she asked.

“I hope I can go back next semester. I’m not sure I think a college degree is really necessary, but law schools do. It’s a rough world out there, and I’ve always been determined to equip myself for it, and college is part of the deal.”

A plane droned by, far above them. She looked up but could not see it. It must have passed overhead before its sound followed it. Their road turned sharply uphill.

“What about you, Polly?”

“What about what?”

“You
are
planning to go to college?”

“Sure.”

“Planning to be a scientist?”

“I don’t know. I’m interested in a lot of things. One problem is—well, Max said I have too many options.”

“Are you over it?”

“Over what?”

“Your friend’s death.”

“Zachary, you don’t get over someone’s death. Ever. You just learn to go on living the best way you possibly can.”

“I got over Ma’s death.” He sighed.

Did he? Really? she wondered. And what about the grandmother who had believed in him? “I don’t want to get over Max’s death. She’ll always be part of me and I’ll be—more—because she was my friend.”

“Oh, Polly.” He took his hand off the steering wheel and reached out to touch her shoulder gently. “You teach me so much, and I love you for it, Polly. Polly, if I’m going to see as much of you as I want to these next few months, there’s something I ought to tell you.” Then he fell silent. The road came out of the woods, went past a farm, and then offered them a wide view across a valley to ranges of mountains beyond, a far more spectacular view than her grandparents’ gentle one. He pulled the car over, stopped it, and sat there, staring out.

She waited. Decided he was not going to tell her whatever it was, when he said softly, “Polly, if I died, would you get over me?”

She turned to look at him.

“I’ve always been my own worst enemy, and now it’s coming back at me.” She saw his eyes fill with sudden tears.

“Zachary. What is it?”

“My heart. It’s never been very good. And now—”

She looked at his white face, at the slight blueness about his lips, at his eyes trying to blink back tears. She reached out to touch him.

“Don’t touch me. Please. I don’t want to cry. But I don’t want to die. I’m not ready. But I’ve only got—oh, nobody will be specific, but it’s not likely I’ll make it to law school.”

“Oh, Zachary.” She sat, not touching him, honoring his wish. “What about open-heart surgery?”

“It wouldn’t help that much.”

“If you take care of yourself, don’t work too hard…”

He shook his head, reached up, and fiercely rubbed away his tears with the heel of his hand.

“Oh, Zach—”

“See, I’m hurting you just by being. I don’t mean to use emotional blackmail. Polly, sweet, what I’m doing is living as though I’m going to go on living. Working in Hartford this semester. Planning on going back to college. To law school. My doctors say that’s the best thing. Take it moderately easy, but live while I can. So what I’d really like is to see you sort of on a regular basis. Would that be possible?”

“Well, of course, Zach.” Words seemed totally inadequate.

He started the car again and took off, far too fast. He’d said that he didn’t want to die, that he wasn’t ready. He’d said that he didn’t want to hurt her. “Slow down a bit, hey?” she suggested.

He took his foot off the accelerator and drove at a more moderate speed. In silence. She did not break it because there was nothing to say. When they got to her grandparents’ land, he turned onto the dirt road the house faced and stopped his car by the wing with the pool.

“I’ve been horrible,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t been horrible.”

He groped toward her to kiss her and she let his lips touch hers, then gently turned away. She felt deep sympathy for him, but kissing out of sympathy could only lead to trouble.