Sleeping in Flame (20 page)

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"I have no idea. As I told the others, I was asleep and found him like .

. . that when I woke up."

"And you _heard_ nothing? Like a surprised shout? You know, how you yell out when you get a bad shock from something?"

"Nothing like that, but I was sound asleep and having _big_ dreams. I remember that vividly, so I really must've been deep-out, you know?"

Radcliffe stood up and walked over to her. "Why do you think it was an electrical shock, Doctor?"

She looked at me to see if this man had the right to ask questions. I nodded.

"I'd rather not say anything about that until we've gotten all the results, sir." She made a wry face and turned to leave. "Sometimes doctors have the bad habit of making wrong prognoses before they know what they're talking about. It gets us into too much hot water. We're doing all we can for

Mr. Venasque. I'll let you know what we find."

When she was gone, the three of us traded "what-was-that-all-about?"

looks.

Strayhorn looked like hell when he got to the hospital. His eyes were red-rimmed and full of harried sadness. He spoke quickly and asked the same question more than once. Mrs. Radcliffe made him sit down next to her and put her arm around his shoulder.

Almost as soon as he arrived, I felt invisible ranks close around the three of them. The waiting room had become _their_ room. I knew Venasque and was there when he was "hit," but the shaman had become their sole concern now and I was way on the outside. This was further emphasized when Radcliffe said it was all right if I wanted to "leave things in their hands now"; they'd take care of everything. Although his voice was friendly and grateful, I understood the offer to mean it'd be nice if you left, pal.

"We'll take care of the animals, Walker, but it would make things easier if you drove the Jeep back to L.A. and put it in his garage. Give the keys to his next-door neighbor, Mr. Barr. Sydney will take you over to the motel to get your bags."

Helplessly, I turned up my hands. "Okay, but let me give you my address and phone number in Los Angeles. Make sure to call me if there's _anything_ I can do. Okay?"

"Absolutely. And thanks so much for doing what you did, Walker. We'll let you know what's going on whenever they tell us here. And don't worry about his care, either. We'll watch every move they make. If it's necessary, I'll even design a new wing in this place for him!"

We shook hands. Strayhorn held on a long time and looked at me very carefully. "Did anything happen between you two, Walker? Did you do anything that might have caused it?"

"No, Philip, he made me build a sand castle today on the beach, and then when I was asleep, as I told you, he sent me back to one of my other lives."

"Nothing else? Venasque told me you were one of the most intriguing people he's worked with.

Said there was an enormous magic in you. He thought your _being_ might have brought that sea serpent up."

"He said that? He never told me."

"He always has his reasons. He told me he was really looking forward to working with you. Now this. That's why I'm asking, so don't be offended. You might have done something without even knowing it . . . Possibly while you were asleep?"

"Philip, it's possible, but what are the chances? I don't know what happened when I was asleep. I dreamed I was back in the Middle Ages with my father. He wouldn't sell potatoes to a man with the plague. When I woke up, Venasque was gone."

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"Nothing in your dream might have caused it?"

"Nothing that I know of."

It was not until three days later and we were flying back to Vienna that I remembered the part of the dream that could have caused everything: my father making the

"sweet man" and the animal skull explode the moment they became dangerous. Why didn't I remember that when Strayhorn was standing ten inches from me, waiting for information that could save Venasque? Why didn't I

remember that?

It was three o'clock in the morning when I got home, but a light was on in the living room. Maris was still up, reading a collection of poetry by her favorite, Diane Wakoski. She looked up from the book, then down again with a smile and read:

_"Metaphors_

_I kiss you goodbye_

_for a while_

_and will talk about my own perceptions,_

_angers,_

_and even the admiration I feel for the beautiful_

_scoundrel."_

"Hello, my scoundrel. How are you? How come you're back? What's with Venasque?"

"That's the second time tonight I've heard poetry. Is today still Tuesday? Jesus, it's been a hundred hours long. Venasque is in a coma. It's bad. Strayhorn and Harry Radcliffe are up there with him at the hospital."

"You mean _my_ Harry Radcliffe, the architect? Wow!"

"Remember I told you he studied with Venasque, too? Philip and he came to the hospital and made it pretty clear it'd be better if I left. So I did, and drove his car back. What a night, Maris!

What a _day_! You once said 'It's a day that tires you out the rest of your life,' and that was it exactly. All

I wanted to do was get home to you.

"Hey, how come you're not at your brother's house? I was so glad to see you that I forgot you're not supposed to be here."

She kissed my cheek. "I had a feeling you'd be back tonight. Anyway, I don't like the guy Ingram's living with. Have you noticed how Los Angeles is a T-shirt society? Everyone lets you know who they are on their T-shirt. This guy wore one that said 'I'd love to sleep with you, but I'm taking lunch with my agent.' Tell me about what happened. Don't leave anything out."

"Do you mind if I do it in the morning? I'm really pooped."

She got up and pulled me after her. "Of course. I'm sorry. Come on, let's go to bed. Is there anything I can do? Make you something to eat? You want a back rub?"

"No, thanks. You know what Venasque told Strayhorn? That I have

'enormous magic' in me, quote unquote. He thought that sea monster we saw might've come up because I was there." I sat down again. "What do you think he meant by that?"

"What he said. You went to him because all those strange things were happening to you. He sensed, or knew, where they came from, that's why he wanted to work with you. And that's why it's so terrible this happened. I've been thinking about you and Venasque since you left, and you know what? I'm

_sure_ the flying lessons were only a metaphor. Maybe he really was going to teach you, but I doubt it. He never told you he taught anyone else how to do it, did he? The others, like Philip and Harry Radcliffe, learned really mundane things like how to swim and how to play a musical
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instrument. Only

_you_ were supposed to fly, Walker. That's not the easiest thing in the world to teach a person. I don't know anything about it, but I'm sure it was a metaphor for something else. Don't ask me what."

"But your brother was the one who initially said Venasque taught people to fly."

"I know. I talked with Ingram about that today and found out something interesting: Everyone who has gone to Venasque comes away feeling better or healed. But according to my brother, no one he knows has ever actually learned to fly. People go to him for that because that's what he advertises, but he never taught it. You were going to be the first."

"That's interesting. Sounds like you're probably right." But as I said that, a picture came to mind from the dream (flashback?) I'd had at Venasque's one night: small children flying gently through the window of a stone schoolhouse in the South of France, forty years ago.

3.

Almost at the same time Maris said she would marry me, the airplane yawed hard to one side and began turning. We shared blank "Huh?" looks.

"I don't like it when planes make curves, Walker."

"Maybe the pilot heard what you said and is looping the loop for us."

She closed her eyes and tensed her mouth. "Honey, don't worry."

"I won't worry when my feet are on the ground again. How come the wing is below us? What's going on?"

"I don't know."

"What a moment for this to happen! I finally say 'I do' and the plane crashes. That's nice."

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Monninger. We've run into a small technical problem, so we're going to land at Seattle airport in fifteen minutes to take care of it. Nothing to worry about, though. We've got some freight shifting in the hold and it's got to be secured. Sorry about the inconvenience. We'll get it fixed and be under way in no time."

"You think he's telling the truth?"

"Sure. The fact he said what it was proves it. When there are big problems --"

"-- like bombs?"

"They don't tell you anything. I'm sure it's the cargo."

"Stewardess, could I have another brandy?"

I tried to take her hand but she shook me off. "I'm too nervous."

I looked out the window at the gray clouds. We'd both been so glad to leave Los Angeles that we'd all but run onto the plane. I'd been looking at the flight map when she turned to me an hour into the flight and said in a small voice, "Do you still want to marry me?"

Trying to keep my head on, I put the map down and looked at her. "I'd love to marry you, Maris. You know that. I would love that more than anything."

"I've never been married before."

"I know."

Then the plane tipped.

The stewardess brought the brandy and Maris downed it in three big gulps. "I'm terrified. Now that I want to get married, flying scares me even more. That's a good sign, isn't it? Before, I was just scared of dying. Now

I'm worried my husband's going to die."

During all the turning and descending, I noticed somewhere in the midst of that a very strange smell in the plane. Because there was nothing else to do, I kept sniffing to try and figure out what it was, but had no luck. It was unpleasantly sweet, thick and stale like an old box of candy.

The plane dropped below the clouds and suddenly the absolute blue and white of high skies gave over to the green of Washington State. Off to our left, the sun cut through a patch of
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purple-gray clouds and lit a section of the city like an acetylene torch.

"God's flashlight."

"What?" Maris leaned over and looked out the window across my lap.

"Doesn't that light over there look like God's shining a flashlight down through the clouds?"

She kissed my cheek. "That's a nice image. I know a guy who lives in Seattle, Henry Samuel. A real jerk. Maybe we'll crash into his house and I can say hello. What's that smell? It's like room deodorizer."

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out."

"Are the engines on fire?" Leaning over farther for a better look out the window, she said,

"Walker, I meant what I said about getting married. I'm just not saying anything more now because I don't know what to say. Do you understand? But I want it! I realized that when you went away with Venasque.

Being alone again, even for that short time, didn't make me feel helpless or moony. Just indignant . . . no, _confused_ by your absence. Does that make sense?"

"Uh huh."

"Good." She crossed her arms and nodded once. The landing gear went down with a solid thump. "Uh oh. Ever notice how a clock ticks faster after it's been wound? As if it's grateful to you for doing it? That's how I feel about us. That's why I want to get married. Being with you makes me feel full of energy; like I've been wound up again."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seat belts and extinguish all smoking material. We're making our approach to Seattle airport."

We landed so gently that even Maris applauded the touchdown. "This guy can land me any time."

While the plane taxied to a corner of the airport, we were told to stay on board because the cargo problem would be taken care of in about twenty minutes.

I got up to go to the toilet, but the line ahead of me was long, so I stood next to the galley and waited my turn. Two stewardesses sat nearby and I was close enough to hear their conversation, although they spoke quietly.

"It's the craziest thing I ever heard of."

"Who discovered it?"

"Judy, because of that terrible smell. She told Dick and _he_ went down to check. Isn't it _weird_?"

"No, it's disgusting. Thank God Dick did it. I'd have fainted, probably."

A fat black woman standing in front of me leaned over to them and asked in a lisp, "What _is_

that smell? I been spraying 4711 all around my head to get it away!"

One stew looked at the other and shrugged. Why not tell her the answer, it'll be over soon anyway. The other shrugged okay back.

"Somehow a coffin we're carrying down below broke open when we took off from L.A."

"A _coffin_? My God! You mean it broke open and there's a body floppin'

around against my suitcase? My son told me to be sure to fly an American airline because they don't have so many problems! My eye!"

Both stewardesses put index fingers to their lips to hush her. Giggling, one said, "It happens sometimes if they don't secure the cargo well before we take off. Don't worry, though. They're removing it now. It won't be a problem anymore."

"Wait'll I tell my son. He's a diplomat but he don't know nothin'!"

_Hmphing_ dramatically, she marched for the toilet door when it opened, and struggled her way into the small compartment. "We haven't even got to Europe yet and things are already strange!"

Maris was in my seat looking out the window when I got back. "I think they were telling the truth
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about the cargo. Look at all those guys down there. Wouldn't you love to have one of their little yellow trucks? You could park it in your _Hof_. Hey, uh oh! Look at that."

A Cadillac hearse pulled up nearby on the tarmac. Two men in black suits got out and walked beneath the plane.

"You want to know what's going on?"

Maris turned to me. "You know? Yeah, tell me!"

"A coffin they're carrying got loose on takeoff and broke open."

"Are you serious?"