Page 230 of Everything Under the Sun

I cackled when his fingertips dig into my ribs.

“Yes, Atticus! I’m sure! I love you!”

He stopped tickling me. And he looked into my eyes. And I looked into his. And we loved one another and belonged to one another and I knew nothing would ever change that.

“Yes…more than anything in this world, Atticus Hunt, I want to be your wife.”

68

ATTICUS

Flames crawled high, spiraling into the blue-black, star-filled sky; branches popped and crackled under the fire, and spit sparks that became ash carried off by the light August wind. The gypsies, made up of all shapes and sizes and races and religions, danced around the bonfire, men dipping women, women dipping men, children spinning around hand-in-hand. The pounding of drums, the twang of acoustic guitars, the picking of two fiddles. The night was animated with joy; it was as if the world had never ended.

Thais danced with Ossie. I—carefully, because of my injuries—danced with Edith. Everybody danced with somebody. And then we switched. Ossie with Edith. Thais with me. And when we were all tired, everybody sat around the bonfire, and we ate until we were bursting and some drank until they were drunk and others told stories of their adventures. But no one spoke of death or hardship or about any of the terrible things they had witnessed or experienced; they spoke only of happiness and of love and of how life could be and would be. Someday.

The gypsies were a free people, who refused to be intimidated or enslaved by what they called “The Devil’s Disciples”, or, “The False Prophets”, or, “The Scourge of the Earth”, or, “The Damned”, or “The Unclean”. “We are The Resistance! We are the Lord’s Fingers, sweeping across the world like wind across the sands! We are the Protectors of all things good! We live and die for His Purpose!” And the crowd cheered, some raised their arms high into the air, eyes closed, and they praised the Lord with their full hearts and their full souls. Even those who didn’t fit into the same Faith, they too praised their gods and vowed to do Their work. Because in the end, it didn’t matter the god’s name, or the name of their religion—the work was the same, and every Faith a religion of peace. And, perhaps, unbeknownst to the people who worshipped Them, they were all the same God, too, speaking to them in tongues they understood, revealing Himself to them in ways they could relate. Different. But the same. I still had my reservations about religion, but I would’ve been lying if I’d said I wasn’t moved by the gypsies’ faith and devotion.

As promised, Thais sang Hallelujah for the children, but it was not only the children whose souls filled up with love and joy and wonder: the camp fell silent when she began to sing, her angelic voice carried through the forest.

Hallelujah…

Hallelujah…

Hallelujah…

“She’s a remarkable young woman,” Edith told me, sitting next to me on a log near the fire.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of Thais; she walked around the crowd, and amid the crowd, and she sang, and sang, and sang; there were few dry faces amongst the audience when she came to the last line, and mine was no exception.

“Yes,” I whispered. “She is.” Had I even heard Edith’s voice? I couldn’t be sure. But I was sure of one thing: Thais was a remarkable young woman. You would’ve loved her, Mom. Josie, Tara—you all would’ve loved her.

After Hallelujah, and then Danny’s Song, Thais insisted the band play something upbeat and fun, and the camp went to their feet again and danced until they couldn’t dance anymore. I watched from the sidelines with my injuries. Ossie, and his granddaughter, Ona, played their fiddles with enthusiasm and skill.

Thais practically fell next to me, exhausted from so much dancing, and she laughed and smiled and coiled her fingers around mine and lifted my hand to her lips. “The last time I had this much fun,” she told me, her voice rising over the music, “was at the cabin with you and Jeffrey—remember?”

How could I ever forget? How could I ever forget even the smallest of details in my time with her? The way she always chewed on the left side of her mouth when she ate. How she would check me out when I was shirtless, and she thought I didn’t notice. The way those cotton pants I took from the farmhouse looked on her: a little frumpy in the back, and made her butt look bigger than her head—but I adored it. Or how when she cast her fishing line, or pulled it in, she always squinted one eye and bit on the tip of her tongue. Or the time—

I turned her hand over, raised it to my mouth, and kissed her knuckles. “Of course I remember,” I said warmly.

Ona came running up, took Thais by both hands, and she lifted her from the log.

“You promised to tell us a story,” Ona said over the many conversations and the lingering music.

With Ona eagerly tugging on Thais’ hand, Thais leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the edge of my mouth. “I’ll be back soon!” she told me, and I watched her slip through the crowd.

“You made a good decision,” Edith said, and I felt her hand patting my leg, “to marry that girl tonight. Can’t be wasting time anymore. If you love somebody you better grab ‘em early and hold on to ‘em for as long as you can. In the Old World, people were lazy. They didn’t worry about anything. They thought they had all the time in the world. But then they woke up one day and saw that all along the Devil had been covering their eyes with his hands. Truth was, they had no time. It was all just an illusion. A dream. A lie.”

I looked over. “You like Thais a lot,” I commented.

Edith nodded. “Uh-huh. I do.”

I paused, searching my mind. “Well, I was…just wondering why exactly”—I chuckled—“did she help birth a calf, or save somebody from drowning while I was unconscious? I guess it really wouldn’t surprise me.”

Edith’s shoulders bounced lightly underneath her blouse. She patted my knee. “No, son,” she said, “I just know good people when I see ‘em. That girl’s been through a lot; doesn’t seem to have a hateful bone in her body—a little vengeance and justice in there, but no hate, and that’s exactly what the world needs. She’s special. Just like my sweet granddaughter, Ona. They’re both special. They’re the future.”

I watched Thais talking with Ona. Yeah, she’s something special all right. Thais wore a thin, ivory dress that fell to her ankles; the short sleeves cascaded with flowing ruffles that hung around her upper arms; around her waist was a little cloth belt tied into a bow; more ruffles cascaded down her hips, and her legs. The dress had been Ona’s, Thais told me. Ona was to marry a man last fall, but he died before their wedding, and now Thais would wear it to hers.

Edith looked at me, and feeling the pull of her stare, I looked back at her. “I’m no fortune teller, but I’ll tell you what I believe is gonna happen to that girl,” she said.

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