I started to put my arms around her; she pushed me back. ‘No, John! Listen to me first. I’ll accept that job as your housekeeper, but I won’t marry you.’
‘Why not?’
‘”Why not?” Oh, my dear, my very dear-Because I am an old, tired woman, that’s why.’
‘Old? You can’t be more than a year or two older than I am-three, at the outside. It doesn’t matter.’
‘I’m a thousand years older than you are. Think who I am where I’ve been-what I’ve known. First I was “bride”, if you care to call it that, to the Prophet.’
‘Not your fault!’
‘Perhaps. Then I was mistress to your friend Zebadiah. You knew that?’
‘Well . . . I was pretty sure of it.’
‘That isn’t all. There were other men. Some because it was needful and a woman has few bribes to offer. Some from loneliness, or even boredom. After the Prophet has tired of her, a woman doesn’t seem very valuable, even to herself.’
‘I don’t care. I don’t care! It doesn’t matter!’
‘You say that now. Later it would matter to you, dreadfully. I think I know you, my dear.’
‘Then you don’t know me. We’ll start fresh.’
She sighed deeply. ‘You think that you love me, John?’
‘Uh? Yes, I guess that’s it.’
‘You loved Judith. Now you are hurt-so you think you love me.’
‘But-Oh, I don’t know what love is! I know I want you to marry me and live with me.’
‘Neither do I know,’ she said so softly that I almost missed it. Then she moved into my arms as easily and naturally as if she had always lived there.
When we had finished kissing each other I said, ‘You will marry me, then?’
She threw her head back and stared as if she were frightened. ‘Oh, no!’
‘Huh? But I thought -‘
‘No, dear, no! I’ll keep your house and cook your food and make your bed-and sleep in it, if you want me to. But you don’t need to marry me.’
‘But-Sheol! Maggie, I won’t have it that way.’
‘You won’t? We’ll see.’ She was out of my arms although I had not let go. ‘I’ll see you tonight. About one-after everyone is asleep. Leave your door unlatched.’
‘Maggie!’ I shouted.
She was headed down the path, running as if she were flying.
I tried to catch up, tripped on a stalagmite and fell. When I picked myself up she was out of sight.
Here is an odd thing-I had always thought of Maggie as quite tall, stately, almost as tall as I was. But when I held her in my arms, she was short. I had to lean way over to kiss her.
12
On the night of the Miracle all that were left of us gathered in the main communications room-my boss and myself, the chief of communications and his technical crew, a few staff officers. A handful of men and a few dozen women, too many to crowd into the comm shack, were in the main mess-hall where a relay screen had been rigged for them. Our underground city was a ghost town now, with only a skeleton crew to maintain communications for the commanding general; all the rest had gone to battle stations. We few who were left had no combat stations in this phase. Strategy had been settled; the hour of execution was set for us by the Miracle. Tactical decisions for a continent could not be made from headquarters and Huxley was too good a general to try. His troops had been disposed and his subordinate commanders were now on their own; all he could do was wait and pray.
All that we could do, too-I didn’t have any fingernails left to bite.
The main screen in front of us showed, in brilliant color and perfect perspective, the interior of the Temple. The services had been going on all day-processional, hymns, prayers and more prayers, sacrifice, genuflexion, chanting, endless monotony of colorful ritual. My old regiment was drawn up in two frozen ranks, helmets shining, spears aligned like the teeth of a comb, I made out Peter van Eyck, Master of my home lodge, his belly corseted up, motionless before his platoon.