“No, you shouldn’t have,” said Stuart, “but you know I’m kidding, man. Come on. Seriously, what’s your secret for remembering things like that? You have a card catalog in your head?”
“I have a computer in my head, just like you do,” said Reuben. “My dad’s a poet. And he used to read Isaiah out loud to me when I was a kid.”
“Isaiah!” said Stuart in a deep voice. “No Maurice Sendak or Winnie the Pooh? But then of course you were destined to grow up to be a Man Wolf, so the usual rules didn’t apply.”
Reuben smiled and shook his head. Margon gave a low growl of disapproval.
“Morphenkindergarten,” said Margon. “I think I rather like that.”
Felix was paying not the slightest attention. He was looking again at his Christmas diagrams and lists.
Reuben was beginning to see this festival, and he warmed to it the way he’d warmed to this house as soon as he’d come to know it.
“Isaiah!” Stuart continued to scoff. “And you godless immortals dance in a circle because Isaiah said to do it?”
“Don’t make a fool of yourself,” cautioned Margon. He was annoyed. “You’re missing the point entirely. We were dancing in our circle at Midwinter before Isaiah came into the world. And on that night, we will mourn Marrok, who’s no longer with us—one of our own whom we’ve lately lost—and we will welcome you—formally— you and Reuben and Laura into the company.”
“Wait a minute,” said Stuart, jolting Reuben out of his reverie. “Then Laura’s decided? She’s going to be with us!” He was elated. “Reuben, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Enough for now,” said Felix gently. He rose to his feet. “Reuben, you come with me. As master of the house, you need to see a few more of the cellar chambers belowstairs.”
“If they’re dungeons, I wanna see them!” Stuart said.
“Sit down,” said Margon in a low ominous voice. “Now pay attention. We have more work to do on these plans.”
3
TIRED AS HE WAS, Reuben was game for a trip to the cellars, and followed Felix willingly down the steps. They passed quickly through the old furnace room and into the first of the many passages that made up a labyrinth before the final tunnel to the outside world.
In the last week electricians had been rewiring these low-roofed hallways, and some of the mysterious chambers, but much remained to be done and Felix explained that some of the rooms could never be opened for electrical light.
There were oil lamps and flashlights in cabinets here and there, between locked doors, and Reuben realized as he followed Felix under the dim overhead bulbs that he had no idea as to the extent of the construction under the house. These crudely plastered walls glistened with moisture in places, and as he followed Felix now into completely foreign territory, he glimpsed at least ten doors on either side of the cramped hall.
Felix had a large flashlight in hand, and stopped before a door with a combination lock.
“What is it? What’s troubling you?” Felix asked. He laid a firm hand on Reuben’s shoulder. “You came in miserable. What’s happened?”
“Well, nothing’s happened,” said Reuben, partly relieved to be talking about it, and partly ashamed. “It’s just that Laura has decided, as I’m sure you know. And I didn’t know. I was with Laura this afternoon. I miss her and I don’t understand how I can want her to come home so much and be so afraid of what’s happening to her. I wanted to carry her back here by force and I wanted to flee.”
“You really don’t understand?” Felix asked. His dark eyes were filled with a protective concern. “It’s easy enough for me to understand,” he said. “And you mustn’t condemn yourself for it, not at all.”
“You’re always kind, Felix, always kind,” Reuben said, “and there are so many questions on the tip of my tongue about who you are and what you know.…”
“I realize that,” said Felix. “But in a very real way, who we are now is what counts. Listen, I’ve loved you as if you were a son to me from the first moment I met you. And if I thought it would help to tell you all the stories of my life, I’d do it. But it won’t help at all. This you must live through on your own.”
“Why am I not happy for her,” Reuben asked, “happy to share this power, these secrets, what’s wrong with me? From the first moment I knew I loved her, I wanted to give her the Chrism. I didn’t even know the name of it. But I knew that if it could be passed, given, and I wanted to …”
“Of course you did,” said Felix. “But she’s not simply a person in your mind, she’s a lover.” He hesitated. “A woman.” He turned to the small combination lock and, shifting the flashlight under his arm, worked the dial quickly. “You’re possessive of her, you have to be,” Felix went on. He cracked the door but didn’t enter. “And now she’s one of us, and it’s out of your hands.”
“That’s exactly what she said,” Reuben answered. “And I know I should be happy that it’s out of my hands, that she’s been accepted without conditions, that she’s seen as whole and entire and her own person.…”
“Yes, of course you should, but she’s your spouse!”
Reuben didn’t respond. He was seeing Laura again, by the creek, holding that small wooden flute, and then playing it, tentatively, making that melody that rose mournfully, as if it were a little prayer.
“I know this,” said Felix. “You have an exceptional capacity to love. I’ve seen it, felt it, knew it when we first talked to each other in the lawyer’s office. You love your family. You love Stuart. And you love Laura deeply, and if for any reason you cannot bear to be around her anymore, well, you will deal with it with love.”
Reuben wasn’t so sure of that, and suddenly the difficulties, the potential for difficulties, overwhelmed him. He thought of Thibault under the tree outside of her house, waiting there so quietly in the darkness, and a raging jealousy took hold of him, jealousy that Thibault had given her the Chrism, jealousy that Thibault, who’d warmed to her from the beginning, might be far closer to her now than Reuben was.…
“Come,” said Felix. “I want you to see the statues.”
The flashlight threw a large yellow beam before them as they entered a cold white-tiled room. Even the ceiling was tiled. And at once Reuben’s eyes made out a great cluster of white-marble creche figures, finely carved, robust, and baroque in proportions and costume, as rich as any Italian statues he had ever seen. Surely these had come from some sixteenth-century palazzo or church across the sea.
They took his breath away. Felix held the flashlight as Reuben examined them, wiping the dust from the Virgin’s downcast eyes, her cheek. Not even in the famous Villa Borghese had he ever seen anything more plastic or lifelike rendered in stone. The tall figure of the bearded Joseph loomed over him, or was it one of the shepherds? Well, here was the lamb, and the ox, yes, finely detailed, and there suddenly as Felix moved the flashlight were revealed the opulent and splendid Three Kings.
“Felix, these are treasures,” he whispered. How pathetic had been Reuben’s imaginings of a Christmas crib.
“Well, they haven’t been on the terrace at Yuletide for almost a hundred years. My beloved Marchent never laid eyes on them. Her father detested such entertainments, and I spent too many winters in other parts of the world. It wore me out, pretending to be my own mortal descendant. But they’ll be displayed this Yuletide, and with all the proper accoutrements. I have carpenters all ready to build a stable enclosure. Oh, you’ll see.” He sighed.
He let the flashlight pass over the huge figure of the richly adorned camel, and the donkey with his large tender eyes … so like the eyes of the beasts that Reuben had encountered, the soft open unquestioning eyes of the animals he’d killed. A shock passed through him as he looked at it, thinking of Laura again, and the scent of the deer outside her house.
He reached out to touch the Virgin’s perfect fingers. Then the light settled on the Christ Child, a smiling and beaming figure with flowing hair and bright joyful eyes, lying on the bed of marble hay with his arms outstretched.
He felt a pain looking at this, a terrible pain. There had been a time long, long ago when some belief in these things had galvanized him, hadn’t there? When as a little boy he’d looked at such a figure and felt the deep consummate recognition that it meant unconditional love.
