Moontrap - Don Berry by Don Berry

Moontrap - Don Berry by Don Berry

Author:Don Berry
Language: eng
Format: epub


Chapter Twelve

1

Nothing was ever said about it. Monday could not find words to ask the questions that were in his mind, and Mary could offer nothing. Their daily life went on as though it had never happened; the incident existed in a vacuum, with no relation to what had come before, and no effect on what came after.

Monday did not know why it had happened, and could not ask; the shock and pain of that remembered mask of loathing were too much for him to bear. He did not know who was at fault, if there was a fault, and could not ask. In the end, he supposed, it was his own stupidity—and yet, the only thing Mary had said was, "Don't hate me." And what did that mean? That she took the responsibility, that the failure was hers? He didn't know, because there was no way to ask.

Finally, the only thing he could see to do was to ignore it. As far as possible, pretend it had never happened. There was no use hashing it over and over in his mind; torment with no end, anguish without result. Deliberately, in the days that followed, he put it away from his mind and turned to things more tangible, things he was capable of dealing with.

If this—distance that existed between them was not to be bridged so easily as he thought, there remained the other problem, of bringing Mary into the world he was making for them. There at least, there was something he could do. There, he was not helpless and confused. As he thought about it, it became more and more clear that the first steps would have to be made inconspicuously. The first breach in the great wall would have to be made without drawing too much attention, without causing a lot of talk and raised eyebrows. Something perfectly natural.

And a few days later it occurred to him; it was obvious. There was one occasion everybody would be out for, and Mary's presence would not be at all remarkable; it would even be expected. The one truly exceptional day of the year, Independence Day, the Glorious Fourth.

***

The morning of the Fourth dawned brilliant and clear, and Monday was at once nervous and excited. He paced restlessly on the porch, waiting for Mary and Little Webb. For the third time he stuck his head in the door and said, "Mary, you just about ready?"

"Almost," she said. "You wait."

"I been waiting an hour," Monday complained.

"Not ten minutes," Mary said.

Restlessly Monday went out to the borrowed wagon and ran his hand along the top of the wheel. The already harnessed horse looked at him curiously, and Monday patted him absently on the muzzle. The sun was just over the horizon. The service in Oregon City wasn't scheduled to start until ten o'clock, but Monday was already afraid of being late. He wanted today to go just right, and it would be a bad sign to be late right at the beginning.

Finally Mary came out, carrying Little Webb.



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