has shouted at the top ofhis voice.
Kate smiles a terrible, wounded, superior smile and shakes her head.
“One question,”she says.“How are you going to get back home after your…um, paperwork?”
“I’ll get back.”He is about to say
Daniel occupies himself while waiting for Ferguson by building up the fire and bringing in more wood.Nearly an hour passes, during which he almost loses hope ofFerguson arriving, but then he hears the manic whine ofthe snowmobile, and he races out to meet Ferguson, shouting his good-byes over his shoulder.
On the way into town, Ferguson fills Daniel in on the recovery effort.Though no snow has fallen since yesterday, trees continue to topple.
Highway crews and repair crews from the power company have made virtually no progress in clearing the roads.The trouble has not been the amount ofsnow—not much more than a foot has fallen—but that the thousands oftrees on the ground have made every emergency vehicle virtually useless.Squads ofmen with chain-saws are all over the county—they’ve come in from every county in the state, as well as Con-necticut, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Vermont, and New Hampshire—and they are cutting up and removing the slaughtered trees one by one.Estimates are that the middle oftown should be electrified either by tonight or tomorrow morning;beyond that, some areas aren’t expected to have power for another three or four days, though Ferguson guesses it’ll be longer than that.
Ferguson is wearing a dark leather jacket, weathered and cracked, thick wool pants, and a pair ofboots that look as ifthey’d once belonged to a soldier in the FirstWorldWar.The smell ofgasoline and oil is all over him.He wears amber-tinted ski goggles that are so smudged and scratched it’s a wonder he can see anything through them.His ears are as bright as freshly boiled shrimps and his graying hair whips back and forth in the wind as he speeds across a pasture, dodging trees, and then onto what Daniel guesses is Route100,though all that indicates that it is a road at all are the occasional mailboxes standing iced and empty on their cedar stalks.
“An awful lot ofpeople have been hurt,”Ferguson is saying, in hisfirm, penetrating voice.“And we’ve had fatalities.Traffic, fire, and heartfailure.”
“Oh no, it’s so terrible,”Daniel says.
”It’ll be a field day for the lawyers,”Ferguson says.He looks over his shoulder and grins at Daniel.
Two black-and-yellow trucks from the power company are parked near an extinguished traffic light further down on Route100.Two ofthe workers are standing around, drinking coffee and smoking, while the others cut an immense fallen oak into sections.A halfmile later, there is a second crew, engaged in a similar task, and a quarter mile after that there is a third.Further offthe road, the Schultz brothers, three long-haired, gray-bearded bachelors, who live in a hardscrabble compound in which they each own a trailer, and who drive fierce-looking pickup trucks with giant tires and furious bumper stickers directed against Pres-ident Clinton, are hard at work chain-sawing fallen trees into three-foot lengths and heaving them into the backs oftheir trucks.Ferguson waves atthem, and the brothers stare back expressionlessly, holding their saws like rifles, pointed down at the ground.
“They’re making the best ofit.They’ll sell enough firewood to keep them in beer for the winter,”Ferguson says.“Fellows like the Schultzes, they’re the heart and soul ofthis county.They’re our muzhiks, our own God-fearing serfs, and ifall the city people coming out here drive up land prices—those crazy brothers are going to be swept right out ofhere.”
Before reaching the center ofLeyden, Ferguson makes a couple of stops, both ofthem to run-down, ranch-style houses, one occupied by an extended family ofrecently arrived Poles, the other lived in by an even more extended family ofMexicans.He keeps the snowmobile idling as he makes his quick visits, and then, assured that everyone is sur-viving the storm and its aftermath, he takes Daniel the rest ofthe way into town.
At the center oftown, the sidewalks have been cleared and some of the larger trees have been cut and hauled away.Except for one ofthe gas stations, every business is still shut.Ferguson pulls to a stop in front of the Koffee Kup;though it’s closed, a couple ofthe waitresses are inside, mopping the floor.Daniel slides offthe snowmobile and staggers back a little—his legs feel distorted and anesthetized.
“Thanks so much, Ferguson.I really do appreciate it.”
“Are you sure this is where you want me to drop you?”Ferguson says.
He takes offhis goggles, rubs his left eye with a kind ofstartling vigor.
”I could take you to HamptonWelles’s place, it’s only a couple blocks.
Your car’s still there, isn’t it?”
“No, this is fine.”
“Hey, look, ifyou need a lift back later on, give me a call.”
“It’s really awfully nice ofyou.”
“Is it? Susan says I act as ifI were the great
Daniel fusses with his car in Iris’s driveway, hoping to create the impres-sion that he has only returned for his vehicle, but soon she comes out, puts her arm around his shoulders, and steers him indoors.He is cold and wet;she makes him a cup ofcoffee, pours a little bit ofbrandy in it, and then takes hold ofDaniel’s chin and kisses him with fervor, open-ness, and engulfing warmth.They listen to hear ifNelson is busy in the playroom, and deciding that he is they begin to take chances.Thus begins the four days they will come to call the Rapture.He takes hold ofher hips and presses her closer to him, hoping the pressure ofher will relieve some ofthe agony ofdesire, and she lets out a soft moan ofpleasure di-rectly into his mouth.They sit at the kitchen table and keep an ear out for Nelson;they move their chairs closer so that they can touch each other, kiss, his hand is up her dress, she yanks her woolen tights down, opens herselfto him, she is so concentrated on her own pleasure, she squints, and then suddenly it’s upon her and her mouth opens and her breath comes in little puffs, it’s like someone doing Lamaze, and when she comes it’s convulsive.It seems to Daniel that his reliefwill have to wait, and he is fine with that, just watching her come is enough, but she quickly turns her attention to him, and he is fine with that, too.What does matter is that the next day is Friday and Hampton arrives in Ley-den.By now, the roads are cleared, and the power is sporadically re- stored;Red Schoolhouse Road is still dark, but Daniel has driven his car back home the day before through a multitude ofdetours and now he can drive himself to his office, where he and Iris meet, with the blinds drawn, and the heat cranked up, and the door double-locked in case SheilaAlvarez should decide to put in an appearance, which she does not.
Saturday afternoon.Daniel brings Kate and Ruby to the train station be-cause Kate has decided to stay in NewYork until power is restored in Leyden, and twenty hours later Iris calls:Hampton has gone back to the city.Daniel is at her house in minutes.They bathe each other, nervous that Nelson might awaken, but unable to exercise any more caution than locking the door.“I never realized white people could get so dirty,”she whispers to him, rubbing the soapy sponge onto his shoulders, smooth-ing the lather down his silky chest.“I look like a burn victim,”he says, holding his arm next to hers, comparing the colors.They make love in the guest room, out ofsome shared tact, and sometime during it Iris says,“I feel really safe with you, it’s such a pleasant way to feel,”and though she says it in a purely conversational tone, as soon as the words are out she bursts into tears, and he holds her, afraid to ask why she is crying.He leaves her house as dawn breaks gray and pink in the high in-nocent sky, home ofGod and all the angels;never has he known such happiness.He drives past the twenty-four-hour road crews, waving idi-otically at them,
[9]
