It sounded like a jet landing on her! Clementine glanced up to see a hummingbird in midair, 3 inches from her nose, looking directly into her eyes.
“There’s nothing here for you, you little bully,” she thought. He is probably the only hummingbird in Northern Arizona. She knew the sweet smell of the tea she was packaging drew him to her.
Seeming to hear her thoughts, the hummingbird cocked its head and zoomed away--“He drops in every day hoping for a handout.” Working beneath the awning, Clementine continued methodically weighing, sealing, and carefully labeling the dried herbs which she sold every weekend at the local flea market. She was packaging dried lemon balm. She worked faster.
“I can package the St. John’s Wort too if I can hold back the afternoon desert winds.” She sent the thought message to Steve. She enjoyed the normally peaceful surroundings. A gentle mist from the overhead mister was a blessing. In the sun, it was probably 108 degrees or more.
Young plants; chives, fennel, and dill sprouting in four inch size plastic pots. Delicate plants protected from the direct heat from the sun during the day by the awning. At night, because the plants are on tabletops, cottontails couldn't nibble on their delicate leaves. Sometimes, during the monsoon season in July and August, they moved the tiny herbs into their van to protect them from torrents of rain and winds strong enough to sweep away the patio furniture.
Over the years, the van had developed a personality. In its old age, it lacked its original vim and vigor, but she and Steve felt the van was a part of their family, often referring to it affectionately as “Tired Ol’ Van.” Clementine had placed her protective mark on “Tired Ol’ Van” many years ago. It ran on luck and a charm.
The small trailer and most of the contents therein were rented. Unburdened by possessions, they were free in ways most people don’t experience. The two much preferred to work with people instead of directing their energy toward “objects.” They earned a few dollars selling dried tea and herbs and live herbs, which were supplied by a local commercial grower. Surprisingly, their necessities were provided.
Clementine and her husband of twenty-five years, Steve, lived at the crossroads of Highway 72 and Highway 25 in Northern Arizona. Their rented one-acre parcel was on a ridge overlooking a narrow valley to the west. A bright red colored flat-topped mesa was across the freeway on their south side.
Along the southern border of their parcel border was a stand of huge boulders ten or twelve feet high, which they had discovered to be powerful megaliths. It seemed to them to be the perfect place to work. They had an unobstructed view of two freeways, one going north, and south; and another traveling east and west. Their parcel overlooked the intersection of the two. High-speed traffic and drivers focused on their direct path. Some of them seemed to know where they were going; most did not.
Steven and Clementine, unlike the rest of the world, were not going anywhere. Instead, they were happy enough just watching a confused world move along, sometimes barely missing one another. Little did they know where their own crossroads would take them.
She thought to Steve: “Come out and join me”
Steve, on queue, poked his head out of the trailer where he was cooling a pitcher of Yerba Mate tea with cinnamon for later. He smiled and she knew he would be right out. The noon sun shinned on the quartz gravel in their driveway making it glitter like diamonds--a clear message of hope at a time when hope was all they had. Steve and Clementine never missed the show if they could help it.
She was worried about Steve’s health. Eighteen months ago, the emergency room doctor took tests and gave them the bad news that Steve had congestive heart failure. No cure was known. They dealt with it the only way they trusted--from within. She and Steve withdrew from the world and intensely focused themselves on healing.
“Compadre” and I have been through this before, but like the song said: “we can’t remember where or when,” she mused. They faced an uncertain future, but they trusted each other. It was not long after that when they discovered that they could read each other’s thoughts. After a few weeks, they discovered that the cottontails might also be reading their thoughts.
Outlines blended in dusk, and cottontails crept very close to nibble on apple cores and lettuce leaves that Steve placed out for them. Not venturing too close, the cottontails always stopped and stared in their direction when Steve and Clementine sent them welcoming thoughts.
Clementine’s heart took a jump and she paused for a second. An old blue “Chevy” pick-up came to a stop within inches of the awning and Chuck stepped out, dropping himself beside her on the bench at her work table. A genuine cowboy, his straw hat was sweat stained and his jeans were faded. He wore boots, never tennis shoes; and his face was wrinkled from the sun and wind. She and Steve were glad to see him.
“Iced tea?” She asked. Because of the summer heat, it was more than customary; it was necessary to offer guests something wet and cold.
Chuck shook his head; “Thanks, but I stopped at the AM-PM and picked up a “Coke” just now”. Chuck, if he could help it, would never accept anything. He was self-sufficient and usually silent. He appreciated “folks not prying.”
Chuck, Steve and Clementine went back a long way and she knew his visits always had purpose. Sometimes his visit itself was the message and chronicled their friend’s departure for parts unknown. He was a restless soul, free as the wind. He always came to say “Goodbye” before he left. He would drop in for a friendly visit, making sure all was well, and then, a few days later, news would arrive from mutual friends that “Chuck went to Colorado” or some such place. He always came back, but Clementine hoped this visit did not mean that Chuck was leaving. Intuitively she knew that one day he would leave forever.
Steve meandered out of the trailer, hearing company. The two men shook hands in greeting and Steve settled on the bench facing Chuck and Clementine, while she continued labeling packages of lemon balm.
“Did you hear that Ace is in jail?”
Clementine expected the news; and she privately wondered how much she had to do with it? In her meditations, Clementine often asked “the energy” to protect her friends from Ace’s actions. Sometimes, as you will discover, Clementine gets what she asks for.
Chuck’s daughter, Maria, was married to Ace. Everyone knew that Ace worked on cars to earn money to buy drugs; some of which he resold for a profit. Chuck told Clementine that Ace often had fits of anger and threatened Maria and her two children.
Chuck had lived in his RV that he parked behind Maria and Ace’s house. About a year ago, when Ace began making threats to him, Chuck left. During the month or so after the ruckus, Chuck showed up at Steve and Clementine’s place at dinnertime. During that period, Chuck always accepted Clementine’s invitation for dinner. Good ol’ Ace had kept Chuck’s RV, so they guessed Chuck was living in his pick-up, probably parking overnight at the truck stop by the freeway. He never said; and it would have been bad manners for Steve and Clementine to ask.
Steve and Clementine had been glad for the company and assumed that Chuck was “broke” until his retirement check arrived on the first of the month.
Chuck had once confided to Clementine that Ace was “wanted by the law in California.” People like Ace belonged in jail, true enough; but she worried about Maria getting through this violent episode. Chuck was worried too.
“The Judge sentenced Ace to three years in the state prison.” They listened silently as Chuck explained that drugs were the basic issue. Problems of the young were no longer simple. None of them were surprised that Ace was going to jail; rather, they wondered how he stayed free as long as he did.
Chuck sipped on his “Coke.” while he and Steve talked a few minutes more about the local softball team.
“Stay for dinner? Chicken....” Clementine offered, knowing Chuck wouldn't, but hoping he would.
“I’ve gotta be goin’ “He tipped his beat-up straw hat and gave us a nod. “See you Saturday at the “market” He walked the few steps to his “Chevy” at a brisk pace. Even this heat didn’t slow him down. He turned his truck in the driveway and hit every teeth-rattling bump on the way out.
Sometime back, Clementine had placed her mark on the under side of his truck’s fender plainly reflecting any negative energy. Silently she added a protective energy shield around her friend.
“That should put a stop to Ace’s influence” she thought. She knew Chuck would be OK, but what about Maria and the children?
Two three-foot wide umbrellas that anchor onto the tables for shade for her and the plants, and an insulated cooler filled with iced Dandelion and Spearmint tea finished the job. Today is not “the day” and she knew Steve would be all right alone until she returned. Steve knew she was always tuned in his direction.
There was no traffic on the highway during the ten-mile drive into town. She noticed Chuck’s truck at the AM-PM; glimpsing him getting coffee and spoofing with Lydia, the cute blond clerk. Clementine smiled to herself; “Chuck loves the ladies.”
Arriving at the market, she pulled into her regular spot and smiled “hello” to Roy and Joe, her market neighbors on each side. “We look like escaped “crazies” with our sun hats, funny sunglasses and shoes sturdy enough to protect our feet from the burning ground” she thought; remembering car tires exploding when the temperatures reached 118 degrees or so.
Setting up her tables took only a few minutes. Sometimes one of the vendors brings fresh fruit or vegetables to sell; she usually purchased some with Steve in mind. Taking a quick walk through the market, Joe stopped her.
She offered a hopeful comment, and ended with a question: “Sales should be good this afternoon, it's a payday weekend. How are you feeling?” She looked directly into his eyes and waited for his response. The emergency room doctor at the hospital in Kingman had arranged to fly Joe by helicopter to a Las Vegas hospital for treatment. When he was released from the hospital two weeks later, Joe was stranded and had to take a Greyhound to Kingman since he had no relatives or friends who could make the 85 mile trip to get him. A friend picked him up at the depot and brought him home to the valley.
“Doctor says I had a blood clot in my leg. He thinned my blood and told me to stay off my legs.”
Clementine took a few seconds to conjure a mental image of Joe when he was young and healthy. She knew Joe needed the money he made at the market and would continue to work, even in the heat.
“Joe, do what the Doctor tells you and take a few minutes every day to remember your body when it was young and healthy. Help it to remember its joy and your body will thank you for it” It only took a few minutes to help him unload his pickup while they talked.
Someone spotted a dust devil on the south side of the highway coming in our direction! “Dust Devil! “ “Cover your Stuff”! they were calling to one another.
The outdoors market is exposed to more than searing heat. Winds, monsoon rains with lightening and ground shaking thunder take their toll. Worst of all are Dust Devils that swirl across the flat desert sands like dancers. A dust devil is a smaller version of a tornado. They march through the valley carrying high winds, sometimes tossing display tables and strewing merchandise all over the market. Their approach is usually sudden and even a medium sized dust devil can destroy a vendor’s booth in seconds.
Sure enough, the dust devil crossed the four lane highway, approaching through the parking lot into the “market.” It was huge, perhaps 30 feet across at its spinning base and its top reaching further upward than she could see. Secretly, Clementine wondered if she could influence this whirlwind. She walked toward it, stopping about 20 feet away. She thrust her hand out as a command to stop and folded her index finger across the front of her thumb, forming a plus sign or an “x.” She prayed that this wasn’t more than she could handle.
Time stopped for her. That dust devil and Clementine faced each other and nothing else mattered. Voices around her seemed distant and unreal. All her attention was focused on the whirlwind and time seemed stalled. It seemed very close to her, almost feeling as though they were being introduced to each other. The base of the dust devil lifted off the ground; it went up and up and then began to unwind. It dissipated before everyone’s eyes!
Clementine was as surprised as anybody else! The dust devil almost instantaneously vanished before their eyes. She had no idea that the dust devil would respond in such a way. She must remember that.
“How did you do that?” Joe yelled!
She laughed, embarrassed by all the hubbub, and stammered something about coincidence. Hoping no one was observing, Clementine drifted to the back of the group and walked away from Joe and the others nearby, toward the market confines and silently created protective shields. “They would be bothered by “devils” no more today.” she thought.
His hands radiated healing heat; and when he was a teenager, he amused himself by using his telepathic powers he made others scratch the tip of their nose.
This morning, having their coffee at the card table in the kitchen, Steve was showing Clementine how he could slide the ashtray across the table without touching it. He cupped his hands around the ashtray, careful not to touch it. She could see the concentration and focus reflected in his face. Moving his hands slowly toward the center of the table, the ashtray, in a jerky motion moved with his hands.
After a few seconds of movement, Clementine and Steve both jumped back, startled by a flash of static electricity snap from one hand to the other hand!
Steve laughed! "I guess you saw that!"
“Did it hurt?” she laughed. He practices with his hands often. Using the energy seems to strengthen it rather than reduce it. Lately, he had asked her to join him. They worked together gaining strength every day.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. Why don’t you try it?” He slid the ashtray over to Clementine’s side of the table. Clementine cupped her hands toward each other, approximately two inches apart. She rotated them in a circular motion as though she held an imaginary tennis ball.
“Try to feel the heat” Steve thought to her. He sat with her for almost an hour while she worked to generate heat from the palms of her hands. As her hands became warmer, she maneuvered them over the center of Steve’s chest, willing their energy to heal his heart muscle and revitalize his blood flow.
He showed her how to follow a path or a stream with her mind. They would meld into a cloud, drifting high above the earth.
“Follow Me,” he would think, and she would go.
They traveled in time and to the stars. Every day they would work on something. She imagined herself a tiny point of light and entered Steve’s body. She soothed his pains and lovingly blessed his heart from within. She moved in and out of his cell structure and mingled with his blood.
“This I do for you, please live for me” her every action begged for his life.
“You turn me on, Sailor” Clementine's hand slid down Steve’s arm, across his chest and come to rest on his private parts. She gave them a gentle caress through his jeans and he moved his body closer to hers.
Steve stopped stirring his too hot to drink coffee and dropped the spoon on the table.
“My kinda girl” he murmured, moving his lips close to her ear. They were in the kitchen, but by then, both of them had plans to move into the bedroom. His hand slid over her breast and he tickled her nipple lightly with his index finger. Even through her blouse, she felt a thrill ripple. She snuggled a little bit closer and placed a little more pressure to the front of his jeans. Any time, anywhere, when they were alone, was a good time for love.
Whenever the mood hit, either one might “cop a feel” and the fun would begin. This morning, Clementine was in a playful mood from the moment she got up.
“Lets play before it gets too hot” She unbuttoned her cotton blouse and lifted her bra. Steve moved his mouth over hers and cupped his hands over each of her exposed breasts.
“Come on, Cowboy!” Clementine whispered. He did.
When the phone rang about an hour later, Clementine knew it was most likely Maria calling.
“I’m on my way into town, shall I bring you some fresh eggs on my way?” Maria asked. Maria’s fresh eggs were huge and some had double yolks.
“That would be great! Are you coming now?” Clementine was still naked and Steve was in the shower.
“Good thing Maria called before stopping in” she thought to Steve. “Hurry!”
Fifteen minutes later, Maria wheeled into the driveway with two dozen brown eggs in hand. Without asking, Clementine poured her a tall glass of iced peppermint tea. Exchanging the glass of tea for the eggs, which she placed on the card table, they went outside to sit at the picnic table under the mister. Clementine told her how much she and Steve liked Maria’s eggs and thanked her for bringing them by.
Clementine never dabbled in other people’s personal affairs--unless invited, of course; and sometimes, not even then. Whatever went on between Maria and Ace was a private matter between the two of them and must be resolved by their mutual agreement. Even if asked, she would work only from the sidelines.
Maria sipped her tea and not looking at Clementine, said: “I guess Dad told you about Ace?”
“Yes. Have you made plans?”
“Cut to the chase!” Clementine thought loudly to Maria, knowing that Steve was inside, probably listening. Clementine had little sympathy for Maria staying with Ace and allowing her children to live within his influence and her own father to be threatened with abuse. She hoped that Maria would gain the personal courage to escape Ace’s grasp.
“Not really--They came to the house in the middle of the night and took him away in handcuffs!”
“I imagine the kids were terrified!” Clementine had a vision of Ace screaming vile words and the Police with guns drawn.
“You probably need to settle the kids down and balance your own thoughts.” Clementine reached into her basket of dried herbs and brought out a bag of dried chamomile flowers.
“Make a tea, cool it down and add fruit juice.” She tossed the bag of flowers into Maria’s open purse.
“Drink it yourself and serve it to the kids. Let me know when you run out. Keep them away from anything with Caffeine for a while.”
Maria nodded and said “OK” in a quiet voice.
“Sometimes, when I’m off balance in my life” Clementine continued, “I light a candle. I turn off almost all other lights and just focus my attention on the light of the candle and away from material reality. I find it very restful.”
Having said all that, Clementine became silent. It was time for Maria to speak and for over an hour, Clementine listened. She would nod in understanding now and then. Once she got up and poured them both more mint tea. Talking may help bring Maria closer to making necessary decisions about the future.
Ace, it seems, wasn’t home very much. The kids went to school, played with their friends, and helped with the chores. Maria worked weekdays until 2:00 o’clock as a housekeeper in a local motel near the freeway. She cleaned and cooked meals for herself and the kids. Ace came home only to sleep. He dropped into bed after midnight, usually not taking the time to even shower. He slept late so usually the children were at school and Maria was already at work when he left the house. This arrangement wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
When Ace was home usually meant “trouble.” He criticized everything and sometimes threatened Maria.
“Once he slapped me, but it didn’t hurt. I was afraid to hit him back” she confided.
Clementine hated to ask: “Does he love you, Maria?” Maria’s expression was troubled.
“Of course he does--in his way” but she knew better.
Finally, Maria had nothing more to say. She paused, lit a cigarette, and looked at her watch. “I’ve got to get my errands done!”
She reached for her purse and keys, noticing the bag of chamomile resting therein.
“Thank you so much, Clementine. I’ll do what you suggested.” She smiled and fingered her car keys.
“We need to calm your house and give you some protection from anger and turmoil.” Clementine thought for a moment.
“ I’ll stop by your place you get home from work” Maria’s visit constituted a request for help. She would begin work immediately to reduce the damage caused by Ace’s influence and help the children calm their fears.
When Maria was gone, Steve stepped out of the trailer.
“She’s even more troubled than she shows,” he thought to Clementine.
“She’s confused. She sees herself as a failure if she has no husband.” Steve drew more insight from Maria by reading her emotions than Clementine was able to glean during their entire conversation.
Clementine was struck by Maria’s concept of herself. She too was facing the prospect of life without her husband. Facing life without Steve was impossible to imagine. Clementine, for the first time, understood why Maria stayed with Ace. Her commitment to Ace was honest and determined just as Clementine was committed to Steve.
Steve’s gentle cough brought Clementine back to the present. He placed a hand on her cheek and smiled: “Things will work out.” She offered a weak smile in return and caressed the back of his hand still resting on her face.
Tillie grew healthy robust herbs especially for Clementine and Steve. She was the only commercial grower that Clementine knew of who planted seeds according to the cycles of the moon. Tillie talked to her plants and played country radio music in the greenhouses for their entertainment.
Clementine sipped iced tea while driving the six miles of dirt road off the main highway to Tillie’s nursery. It was a surprising place to find an oasis. Surrounding the four main greenhouses and two-acre tree farm was stretches of desert as far as you could see.
Water was so scarce in the valley that even the water district had been known to run short on supply. Last summer, one of the District’s wells ran dry, so they negotiated terms with the County for emergency supplies while they witched a new well and drilled. Clementine had turned on her kitchen faucet and only dust spewed out!
Tillie trucked in her water supply. Her twenty year old flatbed truck had huge plastic water tanks anchored to it. She made the twenty-mile trip into town three times a week picking up twenty-five hundred gallons of the precious stuff, pumping it into underground holding tanks for storage. She recycled water from the greenhouses, and used household water was directed into her septic system. The holding tanks were so near the ground surface that summertime temperatures heated the water to temperatures so high that the water would burn the skin. Locals turned off their water heaters during the summer and fall.
Seven or eight years back, Tillie had paid twenty-five thousand dollars to drill a well, but it came in dry. Hauling water seemed to offer the most economical solution.
Now and then, a “Mohave Green” would slither in, drawn probably by the smell of water. Tillie kept a shovel handy for such an occasion, first smacking the deadly snake on the head with the backside of the shovel, and then neatly chopping off its head with the shovel’s tip.
Rumor was that during World War 2, the Military had crossbred Cobras and Rattlesnakes to develop an even more deadly specious of snake, which they would then drop into enemy trenches. The plan, it was said, backfired and some of the hybrid snakes escaped leaving local residents to deal with them.
Hearing “Tired Ol’ Van” chug into the driveway, Tillie waved a cheerful “hello” and met Clementine as her feet touched the ground.
“How ya doin’ Gal?” Tillie never spoke quietly. Clementine loved her for it. She was powerful and carried no airs. People like Tillie got things done.
“Sales were good this weekend! How are you doing?” The two comrades were linked in ways they couldn’t understand and saw no need to question. They walked and talked their way through the covered customer yard For Clementine, it was like coming home.
“Your lavender, chamomile and small aloe are ready for hardening” Tillie was excited over the prospect of freeing space in the greenhouse for her newest seedlings.
Clementine usually picked up a dozen flats of fresh herbs on her weekly visits to Tillie’s. Each flat held twelve 4” plants.
When small plants were removed from their soft life in the greenhouse, it took them a few days to become accustomed to outdoor living; the process is called “hardening.” Clementine hardened her herbs on tables in the shade of her awning at home for a few days before taking them to market.
Tillie reached over and turned down the blaring music on the radio: “Come and meet my geese!” They walked toward the fenced area filled with young trees which Tillie sells.
“Goosie and Gander” she continued—“they eat the weeds.”
Each tree, planted in a five or ten gallon plastic container, rested in a hole about a foot deep and lined with concrete. The holes were evenly spaced in rows and each hole had drip irrigation. When a tree sold, the buyer took the tree in its container. Tillie simply filled the vacant holes with another container. Until recently, she hired a person to clean and weed the area.
“Good thinking!” Clementine for some reason was thrilled over the new arrivals! They were pure white, and full grown, weighing about twenty pounds each. They roamed their new home as though they owned the place.
“Boy! Do they strut”! Clementine put her fingers through the chain link fence. Tillie gasped and pulled Clementine’s hands away!
“You’ll get goose bit!” She laughed aloud.
So did Clementine, thinking suddenly that predators could be a risk for “Goosie” and “Gander.” Coyotes or dogs running loose might get through the fence and harm the pair. She paused a few seconds imagining a shield of protecting energy shaped like a greenhouse over the entire tree orchard.
“Death is the natural way of things” she thought, “but maybe I can reduce their vulnerability.” Without words, Clementine trotted over to “Tired Ol’ Van” and reached under the driver’s seat, pulling out a “Ziploc” plastic bag filled with sea salt.
She sprinkled some here and there on the ground around the fence line. When she was finished, she smiled at her friend. Tillie made no comment, just a smile in return from her friend who plants in the dark of the moon and plays music for her plants.
Maria, pouring tea into a tall glass filled with ice cubes, reported:
“They don’t get to bed early enough, but they seem to feel fine. I have to drag them out of bed in the morning in time for school.” She slid the glass in front of Clementine.
“We’ll work on helping them sleep peacefully. Are they eating regularly?”
Maria sat in a chair across from Clementine and lit a cigarette. She looked tired and maybe the heat was getting to her.
”None of us are eating full meals. It’s just too hot to cook. We snack instead.”
“Try sitting outside in the evenings. Talk to each other and have fun. Don’t, under any circumstances, turn on the television. Escape is not necessary, Maria. Consolidate your energy within the family. You’ll discover wonderful things about each other. Take both of them with you when it’s possible.”
“Light this candle for us while we’re talking,” Clementine shuffled in her tote bag for the candle she brought with her.
“Place a teaspoon of salt in a saucer or cup in front of windows and a glass of water near the head of each bed. Change the water every morning, flush the old water down the toilet.”
“Mop your kitchen and bathroom floors in a mild solution of soapy ammonia. It will help settle the atmosphere in your home. Continue these procedures for a week or ten days. Call me to talk!”
She grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him with all the strength she could muster hoping her pure determination would make Steve recover consciousness! His spirit lingered in the air just above the corner of her eye and she could feel him looking at her.
“Get back here!” She commanded him uselessly!
The phone! Dialing 911, she tried to explain the emergency!
My address? “Oh, yes!” Clementine rattled off the address hoping she had it right.
She was afraid of Death. She talked to Steve, telling him she loved him. She stroked his arms and chest and gently called him back to her. He would return if he could. She knew that Death held him, but if anyone could escape the clutches of Death, it was her “Compadre.”
Outside the winds began rocking their small trailer. Dishes in the cupboard rattled with its movement. The awning, being lifted by the high winds, jerked upward. Lightening was hitting within a few feet of the picnic table on the patio. Lights flickered from the impact. The very ground shook from the thunder and yet all she saw was Steve’s body lying on his bunk!
Clementine was in the center of a war between Steve and Death!
Suddenly she remembered the ambulance! Where were they? How long had it been? She ran outside toward the road. She saw headlights stopped! She jumped forward and she ran back again. Her arms waved and she pointed toward their little trailer!
“This way! This way!” she yelled; but her words were swept away in the roaring winds. She couldn’t hear her own words! She held her gown to her body for the sake of modesty and warmth; but then waved her arms again, pleading that they hurry!” Steve would have been embarrassed by her display.
Finally, the ambulance turned into the driveway. Two medical technicians hurried inside. She waited outside while they worked only partly because there wasn’t room for her inside. Steve’s battle was not in the trailer; instead, it was out here in the winds, lightening, and rain. Their war took all the sky and earth!
Maybe he was battling not for life, but instead for the best terms in death. Suddenly Clementine knew that was true! Steve would die, yes. Everyone died and he was no different. What he wanted was access! Access to the material world! Access to her! He would always be with her! She would not be alone! She thought of poor Maria without her man.
They took Steve out on a stretcher, medical gizmos hanging off him in all directions. “I’ll follow you,” she told them. One Med-tech nodded back to her and they were gone.
Returning from the hospital hours later, it was as she imagined. Steve clung to life. In his spirit, Steve was stronger--not weaker. His body had become a burden.
Clementine sat at the small card table in the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the Thermos and lit a cigarette with a shaking hand. A pot of spaghetti sauce sat on the stove as a reminder of what Steve had been doing when he suddenly “felt so weak.”
The battle continued all night and through the next day. Winds, rain torrents, lightening and thunder stronger than she had ever experienced. The little trailer and its awning shook and rattled. Dishes shuddered in the cupboards. Steve barely clung to life. Clementine saw nothing else but the war. She felt each blow and offered her energy to Steve. Feeling as though she were dreaming, she ate nothing and drank only coffee.
This war with death had become theirs together and he needed everything thing she could offer.
Since there was nothing Clementine could contribute at the hospital, Clementine remained on the battleground and continued feeding energy to Steve.
At 7 o’clock that night, twenty-seven hours since Steve "felt so weak", the winds began to quiet. Clementine paused to listen! Thunder rolled in the east and the winds were gentle. She and Steve had met Death and their battle was over. Death was traveling on. Without the hospital calling, she knew that Steve had passed over, but under his terms. For the first time in over twenty-four hours, the sky was clear and the winds were at rest.
She rested better in Steve's bed. Not undressing, Clementine turned over in his bunk and faced the blank wall. Drifting off, she felt the mattress sink on its edge. She knew it was Steve telling her that he was there. She slept.