Ceremonies

He said nothing to any of the others, and by the time the third acre was planted he had driven the incident from his mind.

It was then that it happened. The hour was late; the crickets still sang, but the lightning bugs were dimmed, and the moon had long since disappeared behind the scrub pines to the west. Suddenly, by the faraway blaze, a child cried out in dismay.

She was standing over the bag of seed, pointing to something at her feet. Soon she had been joined by a group of the older men.' 'Tis nothing!' one of them called hoarsely. He waved the laborers back to the field, but Poroth and his wife continued hurrying toward the fire. In its light, amid a milling crowd of children and elders, they saw the seed bag lying on its side, looking slightly more shrunken than they'd remembered it. Gaping from the bottom was a small circular hole through which spilled a steady stream of corn seed.

' 'Tis nothing,' repeated the old man. 'We'll get it all.' Around him his comrades were already gathering up the individual kernels that lay scattered in the grass.

But what none of them spoke of was the other hole they had seen and quickly covered over – a hole that, before the bag rolled on its side, had lain just below the first, twisting sinuously into the earth.

Carol was sorry when at last they reached the front steps of her building, where tattered aspidistra struggled against cellophane bags and candy wrappers in two soot-covered boxes on either side of the doorway. The place, which till now had seemed a haven, somewhere she could actually afford, suddenly looked very shabby to her; she was glad it was night and that the nearest streetlamp was several houses away. Freirs acted as if he didn't notice, but she was afraid he was only being polite. He had to be richer than he pre- tended, she was certain of it, one of those self-confident New York Jewish boys who'd grown up with all the advantages and didn't realize how lucky they were. Or if he wasn't rich, he was at least generously supplied with money and would soon be relaxing in the country while she'd still be here working all summer. For their entire walk together she'd been acutely aware, with every block they passed, that he'd be leaving the city on Sunday; and though she reminded herself that the day had been an extraordinarily good one -blessed, practically – she couldn't help feeling that, at the same time, God was being curiously cruel: no sooner had she met someone she might truly fall in love with than he was being taken away from her.

Freirs himself, she'd noticed, had begun to grow inexplicably jumpy as their walk drew to an end. He'd become skittish as a greyhound, in fact, seeing shapes in every shadow, certain they were being followed, and some of his tension had rubbed off on her. Only a few yards from her house he had frozen without warning in his tracks and seized her arm, yanking her back as if before a chasm and gesturing wordlessly at a thing the size of a pea pod that had scuttled across their path. Carol had let out a little cry before she'd realized it was only a waterbug. How in the world was a person like this going to get along in the country?

She paused at the bottom of the steps, not sure whether to ask him up for coffee or to say goodbye. 'Well, Jeremy,' she said, 'it sounds like you're in for a great summer. I envy you, I really do. I just hope you'll give me a call when you get back to the city.'

'Hell, we can do better than that. How about coming out to visit me sometime? It would do you good, get you away from the dusty old books and little old men. You could come out for the weekend' -his confidence seemed to slip – 'or else just for the day, whatever you like.'

'Oh, Jeremy, I'd love to!'

'Gilead's just a couple of hours by bus,' he went on. 'It's a nice scenic ride, really not bad at all. Or you could take the express to Flemington, around twelve miles east of it, and save yourself almost an hour. Either way, I could come pick you up. The Poroths have a truck they'd let me use.'

'That sounds wonderful,' she said. 'It would be lovely to get away for a weekend.' She wanted to ask where she would sleep if she stayed over, but didn't have the courage. Surely the farmer and his wife must have a spare room she could use.

'Great,' he said. 'Then it's settled.' He already had a scrap of paper pressed against his knee and, with his foot on the bottom step, was scribbling down her house number from above the doorway. 'I'll write you when I get out there and let you know everything’s okay.'

Standing with him on the sidewalk, she followed his gaze, then looked up past the tiers of dirty brick and plaster to a row of windows on the fifth floor. They were dark. Maybe Rochelle had gone out with her boyfriend, and for once Carol would have the place to herself. More likely, though, she was in bed, and certainly not alone. 'If you'd like to come in for coffee,' Carol said, making up her mind, 'we'll have to be very quiet. My roommate's probably asleep already.'

'Oh, that's okay.' After the triumph of getting her to agree to see him, he seemed disinclined to press his luck. 'It's late, and I've got a ton of books to pack tomorrow.'

'Just don't forget to take along those nature guides,' she said, starting up the steps. 'I want you to be an expert tracker by the time I come out.'

She heard him hesitate, then follow her. When she turned he was standing beside her, smiling 'I was hoping you'd come out a good deal sooner than that,' he said. 'Maybe even next weekend.'

He held the outer door open while she reached into her handbag for her keys. 'Well,' she said, a little surprised, 'maybe I could… ' She searched her mind for doubts, objections, other plans – and realized, feeling suddenly foolish, that she had none. She had no plans for the entire summer. 'Yes,' she said, 'that might be very nice. I think I can probably get away.'

'Okay, then. I intend to write you as soon as I get out there. And you'd better write back!' He tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. 'Remember, I'm depending on it.'

'Don't worry. I've got two married sisters plus my mother, and I never miss a letter.' She paused, fitting the key into the inner lock; it was time to make her goodbyes. 'Well, I've had a wonderful evening, and I really want to thank you for- Oh, no! Look at this.' She withdrew the key and pressed against the door. It swung open at her touch. Something had happened to the bolt.

He bent to examine it. 'Looks like somebody unscrewed the little metal plate,' he said, poking at the pitted wood with his finger. 'I wonder if anything's been robbed.' He shook his head. 'This fucking city.'

She stared uncertainly into the dim light of the hallway. 'It's sort of scary.'

'Look, would you like me to come up with you? I'll just see you to your door, I don't want to come in or anything.'

'Could you, please? I'm sure there's nothing the matter, but just in case someone's inside there… ' She swallowed.

'Glad to. I'll go first.'

Frowning, he stepped into the hall. She followed him. The passage was a narrow one, and silent at this hour; their feet scraped audibly against the yellowing white tiles that climbed stained and broken halfway up the walls. At the farther end a thick black metal door concealed an elevator scarcely larger than a closet, lit by only one bare bulb that dangled from wires in the ceiling. It trembled as the two of them crowded inside, and again when the inner door slid echoingly shut.

With a whirr of distant gears the car gave a lurch and rose slowly up the darkened shaft, their shadows flirting back and forth with the swinging of the bulb. They watched the shadows, the curls of paint around the emergency button, and the numbers sliding past the small glass porthole in the door. Through it, as each new floor came into view, a pale circle of light winked open and shut like an eye, then disappeared below them. They said nothing, both of them hushed, listening.

The car slowed, sighed, and came shuddering to rest at the fifth floor. Peering through the glass before Freirs pushed ahead of her, Carol could see that there was no danger after all. The hall was empty.

She walked beside him to her door and slipped her key into the lock. It was an awkward moment; maybe she should plead with him to come in.

'Well,' she heard herself say, 'thank you once again. I had a really lovely evening.' She hoped he could see that she meant it, and wondered if he felt the same. At the turn of the key the door swung inward; beyond it the front hall was dark. She dropped her voice to a whisper. 'And it was really sweet of you to come up here like this. I only wish it weren't so late.' Quickly, before she lost her nerve, she encircled his neck with her arm and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. He seemed to take it as his due.

'Amen,' he said. 'See you in Jersey.'

'I'll be waiting for your letter.' She stepped into the darkness; he raised a hand in farewell and turned away. Shutting the door, she heard the clang of the elevator and, moments later, the churning of gears as it started