“Yes, but—it doesn’t follow that both of us are turning into soothsayers. Besides, my dream didn’t make a whole lot of sense. It was just too wild to be taken seriously. I mean, severed heads that suddenly come to life—that sort of thing isn’t really going to happen.”
“It could be prophetic without being literally prophetic. I mean, it might be a symbolic warning.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t see any easy interpretation of it. But I really think you ought to be extra careful for a while. God, I know I’m starting to sound like a phony gypsy fortune-teller, like Maria Ouspenskya in all those old monster movies from the thirties, but I still don’t think you should dismiss it as just an ordinary dream. Especially not after what’s already happened.”
* * *
Later, after lunch, as Grace squirted some liquid soap into the sinkful of dirty dishes, she said, “How’s the situation with the adoption agency? Does it look like they’ll give you and Paul a child soon?”
Carol hesitated.
Grace glanced at her. “Something wrong?”
Taking the dish towel from the rack and unfolding it, Carol said, “No. Not really. O’Brian says we’ll be approved. It’s a sure thing, he says.”
“But you’re still worried about it.”
“A little,” Carol admitted.
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. It’s just that… I’ve had this feeling…”
“What feeling?”
“That it won’t work out.”
“Why shouldn’t it?”
“I can’t shake the idea that somebody’s trying to stop us from adopting.”
“Who?”
Carol shrugged.
“O’Brian?” Grace asked.
“No, no. He’s on our side.”
“Someone on the recommendations committee?”
“I don’t know. I don’t actually have any evidence of ill will toward Paul and me. I can’t point my finger at anyone.”
Grace washed some silverware, put it in the drainage rack, and said, “You’ve wanted to adopt for so long that you can’t believe it’s finally happening, so you’re looking for boogeymen where there aren’t any.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re just spooked because of the lightning yesterday and the accident this morning.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s understandable. It spooks me, too. But the adoption will go through as smooth as can be.”
“I hope so,” Carol said. But she thought about the lost set of application forms, and she wondered.
* * *
By the time Paul got back from the adoption agency, the rain had stopped, though the wind was still cold and damp.
He got the ladder out of the garage and climbed onto the least slanted portion of the many-angled roof. The wet shingles squeaked under his feet as be moved cautiously across the slope toward the television antenna, which was anchored near a brick chimney.
His legs were rubbery. He suffered from a mild case of acrophobia, a fear that had never become incapacitating because he occasionally forced himself to challenge and overcome it, as he was doing now.
When he reached the chimney, he put a hand against it for support and looked out across the roofs of the neighboring homes. The storm-dark September sky had settled lower, lower, until it appeared to be only six or eight feet above the tallest houses. He felt as if he could raise his arm and rap his knuckles on the bellies of the clouds, eliciting a hard, ironlike clank.
He crouched with his back to the chimney and inspected the TV antenna. The brace-plate was held down by four bolts that went through the shingles, either directly into a roof beam or into a stud linking two beams. None of the bolts was missing. None of them was loose. The plate was firmly attached to the house, and the antenna was anchored securely to the plate. The antenna could not possibly have been responsible for the hammering sound that had shaken the house.
* * *
After washing the dishes, Grace and Carol went into the study. The room reeked of cat urine and feces. Aristophanes had made his toilet on the seat of the big easy chair.
Stunned, Grace said, “I don’t believe it. Ari always uses the litter box like he’s supposed to do. He’s never done anything like this before.”
“He’s always been a fussy cat, hasn’t he? Fastidious.”
“Exactly. But now look what he’s done. That chair’ll have to be reupholstered. I guess I’d better find the silly beast, put his nose to this mess, and give him a good scolding. I don’t want this to become a habit, for God’s sake.”