Nightscape

11

Relax, I'll be out in a minute," Liz called from the bathroom.

"Okay," he replied.

Liz felt guilty taking so long in the shower, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity. She had made do for weeks now with five-minute showers in motel rooms with five other people waiting their turn. She had even been tempted to fill up the giant, claw-footed tub and soak, but Max was waiting for her… though not because he wanted to get into the shower…

Liz slipped on her black nightgown. She and Maria had bought identical ones two nights ago, not knowing when they would get the chance to use them since they were always crowded into a single motel room.

From the look of things between Maria and Michael lately, Liz didn't think Michael would be seeing Marias tonight. But then again, Liz had been surprised when Maria had bought it, considering how things had been between her and Michael. Well, Max was going to get his

surprise right now, Liz thought as she ran a brush through her hair and checked it in the mirror.

Looking down at the sink, Liz saw brand-new hand soap. There had been unopened soap in the bath, as well as shampoo and conditioner. Like the food in the kitchen, it made her nervous. Someone had taken pains to stock the house, and for all they knew, people would be moving in tomorrow morning.

As long as they don't show up tonight, Liz thought, giving herself one last check in the mirror. She and Max would be sharing a bed… in a private room… for the first time since they'd left Roswell. She didn't intend to waste it.

She opened the door and stepped into the bedroom. Max was lying on the bed in the dim light of a bedside lamp. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at seeing her outfit. Well, she could play it cool too. She didn't say anything and bent down to rummage through her bag for a moment. Then she got up and casually walked over to the bed.

Max was sitting up against the headboard and it looked like he hadn't moved since she had left to go into the shower.

"Max?" she finally said, leaning closer to get a better look at him in the low light. Although he was sitting up and looked alert, his eyes were closed and he was sound asleep.

Liz shook her head. He had responded to her maybe a minute ago, when she had called out from the bathroom. Still, she knew he was a heavy sleeper, and he seemed to be able to go right to sleep even when worry made it difficult for her.

For a moment, she considered shaking him, but decided against being selfish. After the day they'd had, Max was more than entitled to some rest. Besides, there was no way to know what tomorrow would bring.

Liz slipped his jeans and shirt off, knowing it would take more than that to wake him. Then she pulled the quilt up to his shoulders.

Well, Max will have to get his surprise another time, she thought.

Isabel saw that the handwriting on the next page was ragged, as if the man who had written it was shaky. There was no date on top.

I knew something was wrong when I woke. I fell asleep with my head on Claire's lap while she held our baby in her arms. I woke slowly, then started up when I realized that something was different.

I had been dreaming of a fire, no doubt because of the heat from my wife's fever. Then the fire in my dreams went out. The change woke me and, for a wonderful moment, I thought her fever had broken. I felt a brief swell of joy. My wife would be well, everything would be all right.

Then I realized something was wrong. The fever was gone, but she was cold, and so was our child. I frantically tried to wake them, raving as I did. My sounds woke Father, who came quickly. He checked them both, and his face was stricken.

He put his arms around me for the first time in my living memory and said, "They're gone, son."

I pushed him away, still raving. He had to fix this, I screamed. He could make calls. He had doctors, lawyers. He needed to pay someone, do something. I was mad, and in my madness I could only think that Father had never failed at anything in his life. The world seemed to bend to his will. There was nothing he could not do.

He let me rave and then gently laid me down next to my Claire and our Jonathan. Father made calls. Men came. They wore masks and wanted to take Claire and Jonathan from me.

I would not let them. I told them that Father would fix it.

They waited. Finally I let them take my wife and son. They were gone, and I was in a world I did not understand.

The next entry also had no date.

This morning I tended Andrew and Sarah while I was vaguely aware that Father was making calls and some sort of arrangements. For a moment I was grateful that the fever had kept Andrew and Sarah from waking, for long I am a coward. I did not know how I would answer them if they asked for their mother.

Sarah, woke briefly and looked at me for a moment of complete clarity and said, "Daddy, I'm thirsty."

She could not sit up, so I propped her head with pillows and fed her water with a spoon. She looked

at me for one wonderful moment and said, "Thank you, Daddy."

She passed in the night.

I did not rave this time. Father called the same men again, and they came in their protective masks. I wanted to tell them they didn't need their masks. This terrible disease only took women and children… my woman and my children. But I found that I could not speak.

I did not let them take Sarah for hours… not because I thought Father would fix this or God would take it back, but because I could not make my hands release her.

Later, Claire came to speak to me when Father was out. I was surprised, but she told me she would explain everything. She said she could only stay a little while. She just wanted me to know that everything was going to be all right. Next time, she would stay longer and bring Jonathan with her.

Andrew is worse. He wakes briefly sometimes, but by now I know the signs. Claire stopped in with Jonathan to tell me not to worry. I cannot help it, but felt better when she gave me Jonathan to hold.

I was glad to see them both free of the sickness. They are fully recovered now. Though I begged her, she said they could not stay long. She kissed me and said, "It's getting late." Then she left before Father returned.

Later, I gave Andrew some water with a spoon, then… God forgive me… I drank from the same

spoon. I know now that God has only made me wait to become sick so that I could take care of my family.

But I do not think I can wait anymore.

Father came in as I was doing it and screamed from across the room. He ripped the spoon from my hand and looked at me with a crazed, furious expression on his face. I thought for a moment that he might strike me, then he broke down in front of me. "No, not you," he said, tears running down his face.

He was in such pain that I had to tell him that Claire had been to see me and brought Jonathan. She had told me that everything was going to be all right.

I shared Andrews spoon again when Father was out.

I know Claire told me not to worry, but I could not help it. I climbed into Andrew's bed, hoping that if I kept him near me and kept awake, he would be well. I lay with him for hours and tried to will him to get well.

In the end, I failed. I fell asleep, and in the morning he was gone.

All of them, gone.

Not even Claire could console me, even though she brought Jonathan and Sarah to visit me. I begged her to stay, but she had to leave when Father came back with the men who wanted to take Andrew from me.

I told them to go away. They had taken the others,

but I would not let them take my son. I was determined not to let them. But I failed again. As it grew dark, I fell asleep. They must have taken him then.

Claire visited me while I slept. She had all of the children with her. We played as a family, as we had planned to do in the summer.

When I woke it was just Father and I. He does not look well. When did Father get so old? I did not think it was possible. He seemed beyond such things, immune.

Father tried to get me to leave the infirmary, but I refused. I still feel well, but I know that I must be sick. Claire and the children became sick, how could I be spared? So I lay in the last bed, the only one that had not been used.

Father cleaned and brought me food. He would leave me only briefly to make calls. I wish he would leave me alone. Claire and the children can only come when he is gone.

My brother Matthew came to visit today. He came all the way from one of his trips to Africa. Father embraced him when he arrived, and I do not think he knew what to do.

I tried to call for Claire and the children, who are so fond of their uncle Matthew, but they did not come. Perhaps later.

Father and Matthew tried to get me to get dressed. They wanted me to attend a service of some kind. It was not like Father. To my knowledge, he

had not seen the inside of a church since he was married to my mother. I refused to go. I explained to Father that I had spent entirely too much time away from my family. In fact, I had decided to take my vacation early and he would have to learn to do without me in the mills for some time.

I was ready for a fight. I know how stubborn Father can be, but I was determined, and I have some of Father's resolve myself. So Father and Matthew went to the service without me.

I was glad to be alone. Claire and the children came for a nice, long visit. Claire convinced me to leave the infirmary. I did not want to go, but she explained that it made the children nervous to be there, so I agreed.

Upstairs, we all gathered in the master bedroom. I made a fire, and Claire and I played with the children. Later, we put the children to sleep in their own beds and Claire and I were alone for the first time in too long.

She had something to ask me, and I could tell that it pained her. She told me I had to let her and the children go. For the first time in our marriage, I was angry with her. Her request was ridiculous. She was as bad as my father. I told her we needed to spend more time together as a family.

She tried to bring it up again later, but I would not have it. I did not think it was possible, but I had to deny my wife something she wanted. She has asked for so little from me in the past and it pained me to do it, but I had to be firm.

Matthew and Father returned that night. To my surprise, Matthew said he would be staying for a while. He wanted to spend time with me. He would also take on more responsibilities at the mills. I'm sure that pleased Father, though he doesn't show it.

Unfortunately, they want to stay at the house. I only hope they don't stay too long. Claire and the children still won't come when they are around.

After that, there were perhaps two dozen undated entries. He began dating them again in the 1950s. Most of his writing detailed the time he spent with his wife and children, who never aged or changed. The later entries were disjointed and hard to follow.

Isabel felt a sinking in her chest, imagining the man wandering his house for decades with only his memories of his wife and children for company. He never returned to work. Eventually his father and brother moved out and would come by for regular visits to bring him food and clean up. As far as Isabel could tell, he never left the house as the years went by. Soon, there were only a few entries per year, then a few per decade.

The house had been haunted for nearly fifty years, but not by ghosts… by a man who had lost everything and everyone.

The final entry was dated 1988, just a year after Isabel, Michael, and her brother climbed out of their pods. The entry was short and the handwriting barely legible.

I think the sickness has finally come for me. I knew it would. Lately, Claire does everything for me

and will not let me do anything for myself. Fortunately, the children are a great help to her.

"It is only fair, you took care of all of us," she said.

When I finish this, I will put my book on the shelf with the others. Father will be pleased that I have completed this part of our family history.

Father visits regularly now, and the children are always happy to see him. He looks well, not like he did when the children were sick. This time has made him a better father and grandfather. He also seems happy.

He and I have wonderful discussions about everything from the family business to politics. He still thinks that war will be coming soon and that the mills will be able to help in the effort. I think he's right, but I told him that I am not ready to end my vacation. Work will have to wait; a man's family must come first.

Now I must go to the infirmary, which I have not visited in some time. Claire and the children said they will take care of me, and Father will be there too, of course.

It's getting late.

Isabel stared at the last sentence for a long time.