The Signs
"I wish that I had brought parchment and charcoal," Cecile said with a tone of disappointment. "Then I could make rubbings and look at them at my leisure and maybe, if I really tried, I could understand what these carvings mean."
Adam chuckled. "Well, you're aiming high, Cecile. I have to admit they are intriguing. They've puzzled a lot of people." The way Cecile ran her fingers over and into the grooves of the ancient carvings reminded Adam of the time he had seen a blind man read Braille, how the man had run his fingers delicately over the raised bumps to read them with his fingertips.
"Imagine how much effort it must have taken to chisel into these rocks-what they were saying must have been important to them-what they wanted to leave behind of their ideas."
"Maybe I should carve our initials into one of the trees," Adam said, leaning close to Cecile. "Do you think that we're so important that this afternoon should be eternized in the trunk of a tree?" Adam asked with a wicked grin.
"You would probably have an argument with me one day and then come out with an axe and chop the tree down and use it for firewood," Cecile said turning her face up to him in a playful way.
"Never," Adam said. And then his face dropped into seriousness. "I would want to remember this afternoon always. And if the tree were chopped, I'd keep the section that commemorates us and this afternoon and keep it forever." His mind went back to Cecile's white stockings in his top drawer and he wondered if he wanted to collect mementoes of her in case she was ever taken from him.
Cecile blushed and turned to the boulder she had been examining. "What do you think this one means?" Cecile asked, touching a spiral design.
"I don't know," Adam said. "Some of them are obvious, such as the figure of the man but that one…" But Adam was more interested in looking at Cecile than the drawings. He thought she looked particularly lovely that morning in a soft green dress with a matching manteaux and she was wearing a spring bonnet with a green ribbon and pink roses.
"I think the spiral stands for God-or their god-that and infinity-infinite love. God's infinite love."
"And why do you think that?" Adam was curious as to the way she thought; her mind worked differently than anyone else's that he knew..
"Because that's the way I see it, the way I see forever, like a spiral, always circling, circling within a person and without. The nuns told us that God was everywhere at all moments and at all times, within and without-do you believe that, Adam, that God is within each of us?"
"Well, I've never really given it much thought. I suppose that God could be seen that way. I've known Indians and others people such as Hop Sing, our Chinese cook, who don't believe in a traditional god but they have moral, spiritual rules by which they abide. And I do believe that each of us carries within himself his own belief of what's right and what's wrong-whether that's instilled by religion, parents or just experience doesn't matter-and when we breach that, when we break our own moral code, we suffer. Not from hellfire or anything like that, but from a loss of who we thought we were. That's a type of hell in my opinion-one I've dipped my toes in more times than I like, so to speak."
"Yes, that is a hell-to lose who you are-to lose your way." Cecile turned back to the boulder. It had more interesting carvings than any of the others and the carvings were more deeply incised as if the creator wanted them to last until the end of time.
Adam looked at Cecile's elegant profile, aloof yet sad. It seemed that in Cecile he had found all the things he always felt a woman should be, should have. Granted, she was unusual and he felt as if he would never really know her but she was delectable and desirable and he was irrevocably drawn to her. "I am a little world made cunningly…"
"What?" Cecile turned to him.
"You just put me in mind of a poem I read and liked so I memorized it; I used to do that when I was young. Anyway, that's the first line."
"Tell it to me, Adam, would you?" Cecile asked.
"Well, let's see…" Adam looked up to the clouds to better remember and then recited,
"I am a little world made cunningly
Of elements and an angelic sprite,
But black sin hath betray'd to endless night
My world's both parts, and oh, both parts must die."
Adam looked at Cecile and she seemed to barely breathe. "Is that all?"
"No," he said and continued:
"You which beyond that heaven which was most high
Have found new spheres, and of new lands can write,
Pour new seas in mine eyes, that so I might
Drown my world with my weeping earnestly,
Or wash it, if it must be drown'd no more.
But oh it must be burnt; alas the fire
Of lust and envy have burnt it heretofore,
And made it fouler; let their flames retire,
And burn me O Lord, with a fiery zeal
Of thee and thy house, which doth in eating heal."
"Oh, that was beautiful, Adam. But the nuns would have chastised me for reading a poem like that."
"Why? It's a religious poem, it's one of Donne's Holy Sonnets."
"Nevertheless, it has the word 'lust' in it-and it sounds as if it's about naughty thoughts, not about heaven," She smiled at Adam and he grinned back. He was pleased to find that Cecile had a bit of mischief in her. But then her face changed as she looked back to the boulder. "But it does seem as if it fits these carvings-new spheres, new lands…"
Adam studied Cecile. She thought deeply about things and in that, Adam felt he found a sympathetic soul. Many a night he had lain awake thinking about his life and its purpose but now he lay awake nights thinking of Cecile, trying to determine if what he felt was truly love or just lust. He wanted to protect Cecile from life's "slings and arrows," to make certain she was happy and only experienced the pleasant things in life. But he knew he couldn't protect her from her thoughts, from that sharp mind of hers.
"When I was in Germany," she said, "I wanted to be a nun. I thought that a convent would be the perfect place for the rest of my life-they couldn't find me there. But I knew that I shouldn't, couldn't be a nun-I wasn't pure of heart or thought. But I wanted to hide away." Cecile looked out past Adam as if she saw some being invisible to him on which she focused.
"Why would you want to hide away from life? You seem to enjoy being out in it so much?"
"Life hurts." Cecile's face took on a radiance as she looked up at the sky. "I wished to be the bride of Christ. I hoped that I would be like Saint Teresa, shot through with the ecstasy of God's love. Is it like that for you, Adam? To be in love? Is it an ecstasy or is it only pain?"
Adam paused for a moment. He weighed his words carefully. "It's a combination of both, I suppose. But as St. Teresa said, the pain was so great that she moaned but she also said something along the line that the excessive pain was sweet and that she desired more of it. I think it's like that with love; despite the pain of it, we want more. We crave more." Adam found himself trying to control his breathing which threatened to give away his heightened state-he thought of Cecile moaning under him and his bringing her to that ecstasy where she would be transported from her earthly state to one of supreme elevation where the world drops away. Adam quickly redirected the conversation or he would soon be kissing Cecile, whispering seductive words in her ear. "You went to a convent school?"
Cecile looked as if she had been surprised, caught off guard, but Adam didn't know why.
"I suppose it was a school of a type, but the nuns-they took care of us, took us out in the countryside. Breathing the air was like biting into an apple-so sharp and crisp." Cecile looked away from Adam to the Truckee River. "The river's moving so quickly. It's a bit like time, isn't it-always flowing, passing-passing us by."
"The glaciers are melting as well as the snow on the higher levels, on the mountains. That's what's feeding the river and causing it to move so quickly and then the Truckee empties into Pyramid Lake."
"Everything's always so cold," Cecile said more to herself than Adam. "So very cold."
"Cecile," Adam quietly said. She turned to look at him and Adam felt as if she had forgotten he was there and was suddenly surprised to see him. "It's about time for dinner. We're eating early today in your honor. We should leave now." He reached out for her hand and she stared at it. "Cecile?" She looked up at him as if she were lost and he was a stranger. "Give me your hand, Cecile." She put out her hand and when Adam closed his around hers, she seemed to come back to herself.
"Your hand is warm. Isn't it odd, Adam, how important it is for people to touch one another." she said with a faint smile. Cecile gently took Adam's hand and pressed it to her cheek. She looked at Adam with wide eyes. "Why do we need these things, do you think, Adam? Touch, smell. Have you ever noticed how so much of showing love is like when one was an infant, searching with one's mouth for connection, the sensations, sucking and touching and feeling-holding closely. Have you ever thought about it? How it soothes us, comforts us."
Adam examined her face. If Cecile was trying to seduce him, it was working-his pulse was racing and he thought, I'm sweatin' like a stallion let loose on a mare. But she had already taken his hand away and held it in her two hands, his palm up.
"Your hand is supposed to tell all about you and your future. This is your lifeline, Adam." She ran one finger over the line that curved around his thumb's mound. "You'll live a long life-see how it extends almost to the other side of your hand? But it doesn't say if you'll be happy or not. Terrible isn't it, not to know?" Cecile looked up at Adam. "But that's only if you believe such things."
"We need to go now," Adam said. He grasped Cecile's hand and helped her to the rig parked beside the road. The horse was placidly cropping the high grass. Cecile was quiet, pensive on the ride to the Ponderosa. Adam wondered what had her so engrossed in herself but he wasn't sure if he should ask, if he even wanted to know. Nevertheless, Adam kept stealing glances at Cecile as she sat next to him. And if he hadn't been sure he wanted Cecile before, he knew he did now. He would treasure her the same way he would a delicate orchid, to admire, to enjoy, to cherish and to protect from the harshness of the elements.