Stopping abruptly, John wiped the
sweat from his forehead. He peered backed at Lilith, who seemed to be sleeping
soundly. She must be heavier then he thought for him to sweating so profusely.
He looked up at the blue sky that had appeared through the small crack of tree
line above. “Thank god, the storm had stopped, and it was beginning to warm
up,” he thought. Then he noticed the trees that surrounded him were quickly
dropping their heavy masses of snow. Water droplets fell to the ground all
around him like a soft shower.
Dropping the rope of the sled, he
unzipped his jacket. The temperature had risen considerably in the last hour.
He removed his hat from his clammy head and again wiped his forehead. Looking
around him, he realized the snow on the ground was also shrinking. It was now
only ankle deep. He heard birds chirping nearby and smiled.
“Lilith, are you awake?”
She opened her eyes, agitated
that he had disturbed her concentration. “Yes John, I’m awake. Keep going, we
are almost there.”
Picking up the rope, he looked at
her again. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Please keep going.”
He was hoping that the cold snow
that he had applied to her burns had helped ease the sores, but she was right
he had to keep moving. “Funny,” he thought “wrapped up like that; she looks
like an old lady.” He saw her eyelids twitch suddenly and he turned to push on.
The slight breeze that brushed
his face smelled sweet and fresh, like the smell of freshly mowed grass. He
pulled on the rope and the sled seemed to slide gently forward. He looked
towards the light that peeped through the treetops ahead. The sun, it had to be
the sun! With great hope, that filled him with a renewed energy, he began to
walk faster.
He could see the end of the tree
line. “We are almost at the road. Hold on Lilith, we’ll be there in just a few
seconds.” Now, John was running. He didn’t care anymore if the sled was bumping
around too much; he knew that they had finally reached the road. The opening up
ahead grew wider and wider as they approached. It was so bright with sunlight
that John began to squint. He ran towards the glittering light with growing
excitement. Reaching the end of the woods, they were encompassed in a luminous
halo of sun. The heat warmed him instantly and he was blinded from the extreme
brightness.
John let the rope drop as he
cupped his hands around his eyes. Green, so much green, then he realized they
were on a dirt road and fields of grass spread out before him. Sweet smells of
honeysuckle, lilacs and grass mixed in the light wind and John instinctively
drew in a deep breath.
He tentatively took a step
forward and then another. His eyesight was adjusting and he took in the scene
before him, the large white farmhouse, and the rolling fields with grazing
livestock. He could see scattered fruit trees laden with fat ripe apples and
pears. He knew this home. He had grown up in this home.
He saw the front door of the
house open and a man stepped out onto the porch. They starred at each other
from across the distance. The man turned and yelled back towards the door “He’s
here, come on out. He’s here!”
John smiled as clarity reached
his mind. The man who came down the steps and was now racing across the grass
towards him was his father. His father, who had passed away five years ago of
cancer, was running to meet him. He saw the women come from the house. His
Mother, Gran and of course, his Leslie, his beautiful Leslie, they were all
smiling as they quickly descended the stairs.
John heard a noise to his right
and quickly turned. Lilith stood next to him watching the sight before them.
“Lilith, what are you doing up?”
He turned to look behind him but the sled was gone. Only a small thicket of
trees where the driveway disappeared into lay in their wake. He again looked at
Lilith. “Who are you?”
She smiled her queer little smile
and pointed towards the fast approaching man. “Go now, I have brought you
home.”
He took a step. “Are you an
angel?”
She laughed at this. “I am
Lilith.”
John paused for only a second,
and then ran towards the loving arms of his family.
The five men, led by the State
Trooper had reached the sight of the dilapidated cabin. There lying deep in the
snow, against the remains of the doorjamb, was the man. His head tilted back
against the pack on his back, his eyes lay shut as if he had just sat down to
rest. Clutched in his arms was a thick notebook. Bending down the Trooper
pulled the book from the man’s frozen clutches. Brushing the snow from it, he
saw the neatly printed words “The Perfect Story”.
