Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 76

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David watched her, his whole being engorged and heavy with the weight of

his love.  From above them an errant beam of sunlight broke through the

canopy of leaves and fell full upon her upturned face, lighting it with

a warm golden radiance so that it seemed to be the face of a madonna

from some medieval church window.

It was too much for David and his love broke like a wave, and she felt

it and cried out.  Her eyes flew wide, and he looked down into their

gold-flecked depths.  The pupils were huge black pools but as the

sunlight struck full into them they shrank rapidly to black pinpoints.

Even in the extremity of his love, David was startled by the phenomenon,

and long afterwards when they lay quietly together she asked, What is

it, David?  Is something wrong?  'No, my darling.  What could possible

be wrong?  I feel it, Davey.  You send out the strongest signals I am

sure I could pick them up from half-way around the world.  He laughed,

and drew away from her almost guiltily.

He had imagined it perhaps, a trick of the light, and he tried to

dismiss it from his mind.

In the cool of the evening he packed up the rods and the rag and they

strolled back to where he had parked and they took the firebreak road

home, for David wanted to check the southern fence line.  They had

driven for twenty minutes in silence before Debra touched his arm.

When you are ready to tell me about whatever is bugging you, I'm ready

to listen, and he began talking again to distract both her and himself,

but a little too glibly.

In the night he rose and went to the bathroom.  When he returned he

stood for many seconds beside their bed looking down at her dark

sleeping shape.  He would have left it then, but at that moment a lion

began roaring down near the pools.  The sound carried clearly through

the still night across the two miles that separated them.

it was the excuse that David needed.  He took the five cell flashlight

from his bedside table and shone it into Debra's face.  it was serene

and lovely, and he felt the urge to stoop and kiss her, but instead he

called.

Debra!  Wake up, darling!  and she stirred and opened her eyes.  He

shone the beam of the flashlight full into them and again, unmistakably,

the wide black circles of the pupils contracted.

What is it, David?  she murmured sleepily, and his voice was husky as he

replied.

There is a lion holding a concert down near the pools.

Thought you might want to listen.  She moved her head, averting her face

slightly, almost as though the powerful beam of the flashlight was

causing discomfort, but her voice was pleased.

Oh yes.  I love that big growly sound.  Where do you suppose this one is

from?  David switched out the flashlight and slipped back into bed

beside her.

Probably coming up from the south.  I bet he has dug a hole under the

fence you could drive a truck through.  He tried to speak naturally as

they reached for each other beneath the bedclothes and lay close and

warm, listening to the far-away roaring until it faded with distance as

the lion moved back towards the reserve.  They made love then, but

afterwards David could not sleep and he lay with Debra in his arms until

the dawn.

Still it was a week before David could bring himself to write the

letter: Dear Dr. Edelman, We agreed that I should write to you if any

change occurred in the condition of Debra's eyes, or her health.

Recently Debra was involved in unfortunate circumstances, in which she

was struck repeated heavy blows about the head and was rendered

unconscious for a period of two and half days.

She was hospitalized for suspected fracture of the skull, and

concussion, but was discharged after ten days.

This occurred about two months ago.  However, I have since noticed that

her eyes have become sensitive to light.  As you are well aware, this

was not previously the case, and she has showed no reaction whatsoever

until this time.  She has also complained of severe headaches.

I have repeatedly tested my observations with sunlight and artificial

light, and there can be no doubt that under the stimulus of a strong

light source, the pupils of her eyes contract instantly and to the same

degree as one would expect in a normal eye.

It now seems possible that your original diagnosis might have to be

revised, but, and I would emphasize this most strongly, I feel that we

should approach this very carefully.  I do not wish to awaken any false

or ill-founded hope.

For your advice in this matter I would be most grateful, and I wait to

hear from you.

Cordially yours, David Morgan.

David sealed and addressed the letter, but when he returned from the

shopping flight to Nelspruit the following week, the envelope was still

buttoned in the top pocket of his leather jacket.

The days settled into their calmly contented routine.

Debra completed the first draft of her new novel, and received a request

from Bobby Dugan to carry out a lecture tour of five major cities in the

United States.  A Place of Our Own had just completed its thirty-second

week on the New York Times bestseller list, and her agent informed her

that she was hotter than a pistol.

David said that as far as he was concerned she was probably a lot hotter

than that.  Debra told him he was a lecher, and she was not certain what

a nice girl like herself was doing shacked up with him.  Then she wrote

to her agent, and refused the lecture tour.

Who needs people?  David agreed with her, knowing that she had made the

decision for him.  He knew also that Debra as a lovely, blind, best

selling authoress would have been a sensation, and a tour would have

launched her into the superstar category.

This made his own procrastination even more corrosive.  He tried to

re-think and rationalize his delay in posting the letter to Dr. Edelman.

He told himself that the light-sensitivity did not mean that Debra could

ever regain her vision; that she was happy now, had adjusted and found

her place and that it would be cruel to disrupt all this and offer her

false hope and probably brutal surgery.

In all his theorizing tried to make Debra's need take priority, but it

was deception and he knew it.  It was special pleading, by David Morgan,

for David Morgan for if Debra ever regained her sight, the delicately

hal anced structure of his own happiness would collapse in ruin.

One morning he drove the Land-Rover alone to the farthest limits of

Jabulani and parked in a hidden place amongst camel Thorn trees.  He

switched off the engine and, still sitting in the driving-seat, he

adjusted the driving-mirror and stared at his own face.  For nearly an

hour he studied that ravage expanse of inhuman flesh, trying to find

some redeeming feature in it, apart from the eyes, and at the end he

knew that no sighted woman would ever be able to live close to that,

would ever be able to smile at it, kiss and touch it, to reach up and

caress it in the critical moments of love.

He drove home slowly, and Debra was waiting for him on the shady cool

stoop and she laughed and ran down the steps into the sunlight when she

heard the Land-Rover.  She wore faded denims and a bright pink blouse,

and when he came to her she lifted her face and groped blindly but

joyously with her lips for his.

Debra had arranged a barbecue for that evening, and although they sat

close about the open fire under the trees and listened to the night

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