Edward Whittemore - Nile Shadows

He smiled and drank off the arak the waiter placed before him, still holding her shoulder with his other hand. The waiter seemed reluctant to leave and Stern made a remark in Arabic which made the man laugh, the slang too complicated for Maud to understand. Stern nodded, smiling up at the man.

. . another? Why not. Now what did I do with my cigarettes?

He let go of her shoulder and felt his pockets.

. . must have forgotten to pick some up, I'll just step up to the kiosk around the corner. But you're having a sweet, aren't you? Shall I tell him to bring it now?. . I'll only be a moment.

Stern walked inside and spoke to the waiter, lingering with the man for a moment, neither of them acting out of the ordinary, then turned and left the café and went striding quickly up the square to the street.

Two or three minutes later and he was on his way back, this time resting his hand on hers when he sat down. He always touched her when he was with her, it was a habit he had. His fingers moving ever so slightly, gently. Caressing, feeling . . And for some reason, this time, her eyes fell on his disfigured thumb with its cruel scars, made a few years ago when his thumbnail had been ripped away in some foolish accident.

Once he had told her how it had happened. . trying to fix something and his thumb slipping, catching, the thumbnail tearing away and tearing flesh with it… she couldn't even remember the details now. In fact she had long since ceased even to notice that thumb with its scars, because it was just another part of Stern now. But all at once she did notice it at that moment, and it almost startled her. The contrast of those brutal scars and the gentle strokes of his thumb on her hand. . all at once it seemed unbearably poignant.

Stern smiled warmly, happily, his eyes breathing her in.

. . so good to be with you, he whispered. So right, the way life should be.

While they were talking, he reached up and stroked her hair. There was nothing unusual about the gesture and from a distance no one would have seen anything out of the ordinary, any change in his manner, but Stern was now whispering in an obscure Greek dialect native to the mountains of Crete. He used the dialect only when they were in a public place and he had something private to say. Maud didn't speak it as well as he did, but she understood it easily enough.

. . I don't want you to worry but I'm not quite alone tonight. I'm being followed.

She felt a twinge inside. How long has it been going on? she asked, and watched him shrug.

. . a few days.

But who are they, Stern? Is it all right?

. . oh yes. Just some fellows from the Monastery.

Just that, she thought, aware of his hands ceaselessly moving, stroking her and touching the table and touching his glass, his cigarettes, her ring. Feeling the world around him now more than ever, as if he were afraid of losing it. Not wanting to let it go, touching . .

But why, what does it mean, Stern? Do you know?

. . well I'm due to leave town later tonight and they probably want to make sure I get safely on my way.

He laughed harshly.

. . you know, in hopes I won't come back.

She frowned at the remark, thinking how his humor had become bitter lately in a way she didn't like, but Stern seemed not to notice her frown. His eyes were moving around the square as he took out the old Morse-code key he always carried and began to turn it over and over, his other hand holding her shoulder.

What is it, Stern?

. . oh. Well you haven't noticed anyone around, have you?

No.

. . and the family next door to you, the grandfather, he hasn't mentioned seeing anyone?

No, but are they watching me too? Is that what you mean?

. I'm afraid they may be, so I'm told. . but not that closely and there's no danger involved, it's just something to do with me.

She looked at him. None of it made any sense to her, but of course there was no reason why it should.

Stern had always been careful never to talk to her in any detail about the work he did for the Monastery.

Yet lately he had been alluding to his work more openly, which she found disturbing in itself.

. . so it might be better, he added, if you didn't say anything about this at your office. It doesn't concern the Waterboys and they don't know anything about it, so why upset them? And you've seen nothing yourself so there's nothing to hide. Of course if something should seem out of the ordinary, it might be wise to mention it to the grandfather next door. He's around all the time and he knows everyone, and he would. . but anyway, it's strictly between the Monks and myself and. .

Stern didn't finish. He smiled his mysterious smile and changed the subject and they talked of other things, Stern drinking heavily all the while. Then too quickly midnight was near and their moment together was over. Once more it was time for Stern to leave.

I know you have to rush, she said, but there's still one thing you haven't told me tonight. How are you?

The question cut through Stern's restlessness. He slumped forward and looked down at the table, a weariness coining over him, his powerful eyes still for once, even his hands at rest.

. . tired, Maud. . exhausted . But it's not so much the physical part as. . it's strange, you know. I always thought the body was supposed to give way first, especially when you have the kind of habits I do. But no, it seems the other illusions. . it's not so much the armor of the soul as. . well anyway, I'm going to be away for about two weeks, so. .

She reached out for him and he held her tightly, silently trying to say all the things he hadn't been able to say in words, smiling as he stepped back and squeezed her hand a final time, quickly then moving off up the square. . the restless stride and a nod or a word here and there to the late stragglers of the evening, turning and waving to her, the great dark head against the midnight sky of the city as he reached the corner and looked back, catching a final glimpse of her. .

Gone. She took a deep breath, gazing after him. How odd it is, she thought. For years the partings were always so hectic for us, wrenching in some painful way. But now when there's a war and the danger is greater than ever, it's almost quiet between us. Peaceful even.

Why? she wondered. Because so many of the decisions are no longer ours to make? Is that really the only way for life to be less tormenting? To have its choices taken out of your hands, its decisions taken from you?

***

She sat up late that night on her little balcony, the way she always did when Stern was leaving again. Two weeks this time, he had said, but who knew what that meant? Who could ever know with a man like Stern who was forever leaving on some dangerous new mission for the Monastery?

Mission. The Waterboys always used that term and so did the Monks. Everyone else always spoke of going on missions, but Stern never did. Somehow it was too grand a word for him and he spoke, instead, of traveling. . A man on his travels. . I have some traveling to do.

Stern. . Joe. . how very different they were in so many ways, yet the two of them had once been very close, years ago in Jerusalem. Joe had often talked to her then about his great friend Stern, and she remembered how surprised she had been when she and Stern had finally met much later, in Istanbul, after all three of them had taken their separate paths.

She didn't know what she had expected, probably some kind of genie after the way Joe had talked about him. Certainly not the Stern she had come to know, so much like other men when she saw him as she had tonight, hunched over a table in a small café and talking of little things, laughing and silent by turns, the two of them so much like everybody else in the way they reached out for each other and quietly held on as best they could, enjoying their brief moments together. Stern in the shabby suit of a clerk, pushing back his hair and joking about ledgers and making light of working late at the office. . Save for his restless eyes and his hands that were never quite still, the same as anybody else passing an hour in the little square at the end of her alley. Tonight at least for a moment. . the same as anybody else.