Bill shrugged and folded the map. "Since we don't know where we're going, I guess we might as well keep on this road and see where it takes us."
Molly nodded and stared straight ahead. "Do you realize we didn't even know his real name?"
"I know."
"I do wish we could have at least buried him. It seems almost--sacreligious just to drag him into the bushes and leave him there."
Bill massaged his forehead. "I know. But we didn't have the time or the equipment."
"I know. I'm certain those police cars that passed while we were stopped were searching for us."
"Or for him. They seemed to think he was one of the ringleaders. Probably because he snatched those passes and stuff. I wish we could get word back to the group what happened to him and his family."
"Considering the manner in which he died, perhaps it's just as well if they don't know. He did, after all, die by his own hand."
Bill's voice cracked. "Worse than that."
"What do you mean?"
With some difficulty, Bill explained. Molly cried with him and said, "Poor man. But I can't help wondering how many more like him there are in the world."
"I've been trying not to think about that."
They drove on in silence. The little engine sang a merry tune, but neither felt like joining in. The road they followed carried them past several farmhouses that stood guard over families, cows, goats and an occasional pig. Bill sat up and scanned the surroundings. "Looks like a stream crossing up ahead. Why don't we stop at it? I'm thirsty."
"Very well." Molly guided the car to the left side of the road just before they crossed the little bridge. The springs creaked their thanks as man and woman emerged from the car and minced down the small embankment.
"Wow!"
Molly said, "Indeed!"
Through a small stand of trees lay a pasture field, deep green with occasional bovine freckles. In the distance, a little to the left, stood a low, simple farmhouse. It looked like a toy that they could reach out and pick up. Behind the dollhouse lay the rolling green foothills that portended the gradual rise to the southern mountains. One tiny white cloud rested itself on the shoulder of one of the hills as if seeking companionship, for it was all alone in a royal blue sky. In the foreground the stream sang of life and joy. Light undergrowth lined its edges, and the water itself ran as pure as the joy that gushed forth from Bill's heart.
"Spectacular," he whispered.
"Exquisite," Molly chanted.
"This is straight out of a famous painting."
"Really? Which one?"
"Couldn't tell you. But somebody famous must have painted a scene like this somewhere along the line."
As if reading each other's thoughts, they knelt together and gave thanks for this little slice of beauty in the midst of such an ugly world. When they finished, Bill said, "Now I'm thirsty."
He turned and bent on all fours toward the water. As he eased his lower face into the chilling stream, Molly said, "Do you realize that most of the men Gideon summoned were eliminated from his army because they drank like that?"
Bill lifted his mouth just far enough out to be able to speak. "Like what?"
"On all fours, face in the water, instead of dipping the water up with their hands."
Bill chuckled a little. ''What's the difference?"
"When you're down like that you're not alert. An enemy could sneak up behind you and do this." She placed her right foot on his behind and pushed with all her might.
Bill rocketed out over the water and landed with a slapping splash. He fought to his feet and stood waist deep in the snow-temperature water. "This thing's a lot deeper than it looks," he observed through chattering teeth.
Molly couldn't answer. She laughed so hard she fell down. Bill waded to the shore and dragged his legs out. Molly lay on her back, laughing uncontrollably. She looked at him, pointed and laughed more. A fiendish smile slowly creased Bill's drenched face.
He squished and gurgled his feet over to where Molly still chuckled. He squatted beside her, his jeans squeaking against his wet skin.
"Oh, Bill! You looked so silly flying through the air like that! Forgive me, but you made such a fine target, I just couldn't resist the temptation." She looked up at him and saw the wicked grin. She tried to stop laughing but couldn't.
"Oh, Bill. Forgive me? Eh? please? What are you--oh, no! No! Bill! Put me down! William Hall, you put me down this instant! What--oh, dear. Well, I suppose I asked for it."
Bill stood in the stream with Molly slung across his shoulders. She assumed he would just drop her, but she forgot how strong he was. He hoisted her front end over his head and swung her legs around until they were wrapped around his chest and she faced him. He held her up this way for a moment and smiled.
Even in this precarious position, Molly couldn't help but notice the magnificent bulges of his arm and shoulder muscles. She tried to smile and said, "What are you going to do?"
Bill held her up with his hands under her armpits. Suddenly he let his arms swing out from his body. They took Molly with them. She yelped, "Oh, no!"
"I baptize you in the name of the Father!" Dunk. He raised her again almost immediately.
"Egad! That water is cold!"
"Tell me about it. And of the Son!" Dunk. Up again.
"Bill! That's---"
"And of the Holy Ghost!" Dunk. Up again.
"I daresay I've learned my lesson." Molly was laughing and sputtering at the same time. "Now, would you please--"
"And all those other nice guys!" Dunk. This time, however, Molly let her legs slip down around his knees. Under the water now, she flexed as hard as she could with her legs and pulled his knees out from under him. Bill, caught off guard, went down like a sinking ship. Molly broke the surface gasping for breath. She scanned the waters for Bill but couldn't see him. Then she felt the hands grip the backs of her calves. The hydraulic motion of the submerged arms elevated her almost completely out of the water. The hands gave a little flip and she belly-flopped back into the stream, just as Bill's head popped up into the open air again. Molly hauled her head and arms up like a small Godzilla and stood for a moment, panting.
Bill puffed like a sprinter. He extended his right pinky to her and said, "Truce?"
Molly smiled and hooked her little finger with his. "Very well." Then they both started to laugh. Molly gasped, "We'd better get out of this water before we catch cold."
"Good idea." Bill scrambled up the little bank and turned back to give Molly his hand. She took it and drew herself out of the freezing stream. Just as she cleared the water, Bill's foot gave way and he plopped down on his left side. Molly's momentum carried her forward but off balance and she hit the ground, virtually face first, beside him.
Both were still laughing, but as Bill lay there beside Molly, gazing into her pretty gray eyes, the well-formed nose that still clung tenaciously to a drop of water, the waterlogged hair that lay flat on her head in places and stuck straight out in others--he decided this was the moment. The look in her eyes said that maybe, just maybe she felt the same way he did, and she wouldn't shoot him down because of their ages.
She had turned on her side, and he reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. As he tried to reach out with his eyes to say what he wanted to say, he opened his mouth to speak.
"Molly, I--"
That was all that came out.
"Yes?"
"Well, I want to tell you--" He couldn't get any farther. The words wouldn't step forward.
"You want to tell me what, Bill?" She looked perplexed and he didn't blame her.
Well, maybe this wasn't the moment, after all. But it sure seemed like it was perfect. Why couldn't he say it? Three words, one syllable each. Why couldn't he spit them out? In desperation, he sat up.
"What did you want to tell me, Bill?"
He looked down at her and grinned. "I don't know when I've had so much fun freezing to death."
"Nor I." She sat up with him. "But is that all you wanted to tell me?" Molly sure seemed to think this was the moment.
Bill looked down at his knees. "Well, it's like this. I want to explain that message of Timothy's that you've been so curious about. But I can't seem to get my tongue started."
She eyed him knowingly. "Perhaps that's because you're afraid of how I'll react?"
"Perhaps."
"Well, remember that the message said not to be afraid, because there was much you didn't realize."
Bill looked at his knees again. Molly took his hand and said, "Look at me, Bill." He obeyed. "I know what's on your mind. And the feeling is very, very mutual." She smiled.
Bill's jaw fell open. "You mean it? I mean, I figured--uh, I thought--"
"That I wouldn't entertain the idea because of the difference in our ages?"
"Yeah. Something like that."
"At first that was in fact the case. I tried to tell myself that you merely sought to show your gratitude to me for taking you in, that you--a strong, handsome young man like yourself--couldn't possibly be romantically inclined toward an old hag like me."
Bill laughed. "I didn't figure a sweet, mature and terrific woman like you would want a bungling kid like me."
"Bungling kid indeed. Your presence has quite literally saved my life, both physically and emotionally. At first, I thought it might just be a matter of propinquity. But when it became clear to me--"
"A matter of what?"
"Propinquity. it means being drawn to one another by virtue of the fact that we're in the same place at the same time. At any rate, when it became clear to me that you hadn't the good sense not to fall for an old hag--"
"Call yourself that again and I'll turn you over my knee."
"Very well. 'Elderly matron,' then."
"Where'd you get the idea that 38 is so blasted old?"
"When you get there you'll understand. I realize in my head that it's not, that I'm still in my best years, but it feels like I'm old. I can't really explain it. Anyway, when I saw you were not to be dissuaded, I resolved to declare my feelings. But it never seemed like the right time. I must confess I engineered our little escapade in hopes that it might lead to this conversation."
Bill scratched his head. The hair stayed up after he took his hand away. He bore a striking resemblance to Dennis the Menace. "So how long have you--felt this way?"
Molly answered the ground between them. "Almost since the day I met you."
Bill coughed. "Really?"
"At first I told myself it was merely a bit of mid-life crisis. But there was something--special, very special about the way we related. That's the real reason I came to pick you up at the hotel the day of the war. I--I couldn't let you slip away. I didn't know how I could prevent it, but I had to do something. I must tell you, I felt very foolish the whole time. Or at least until the traffic stopped."
"When did you decide that I was 'not to be dissuaded?"'
She looked off in the distance and thought. "I suppose it was when you defended me before Frank. When you risked your personal safety for my honor I decided to stop mentioning the age problem."
Bill shrugged. His soggy shirt stayed up after his shoulders came down. "You're a lot more perceptive than I am. At the time I really didn't realize it myself." He turned to her. "Ideas popped into my head now and then, but I fought them off because I thought the idea was crazy and you'd think I was a lovesick little boy who'd fallen in infatuation with his nanny or something."
Molly smiled. "My only thought was that I should be so lucky, or blessed, or whatever is the correct expression."
Bill took her hand and kissed it. "Well, I think I can spit it out now. I love you, Molly."
Molly leaned over and rested her head in the hollow of Bill's shoulder. "And I love you, Bill."
The fingers of his left hand laced with those of her right. He tipped her chin up with his other hand and kissed her warmly. She returned the kiss with all of her being.
"Molly Sanders, will you marry me?"
"Yes." They kissed again. Bill began to chuckle while they were still kissing. Molly asked, "What's so amusing?"
"I was just wondering where we'll find a preacher to marry us."
Molly laughed. "They do seem to be in short supply, don't they?"
"I'd say an endangered species."
Molly straightened up. "Hmm.. . . perhaps--that is, if you think--"
"Careful. You sound like me."
"Egad, what a fate!" She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "What I was thinking was--well, tell me this. Who married Adam and Eve?"
"You mean maybe we don't need all the formality, just the commitment."
"Precisely."
Bill tried to shake out the front of his still-damp shirt with little success. "It has possibilities, but I'd need to think about it for awhile. A few days, anyway."
Molly shifted position to her knees. "Perhaps we ought to ask the Lord about it. I'm in the mood to give thanks, as well."
"Me, too. Thanks for that message, and for the water, and for--for you. I love you."
They cuddled and prayed for half an hour. They could feel their hearts drawing together into a single unit as they prayed and sought wisdom. By the time they were finished Bill felt as though she was already his wife, had been for a long, long time. He told her so.
"I feel exactly the same, Bill. It's almost as if there never was a time when we weren't together. I know that's trite, but I'm afraid it's the most accurate summation I can produce."
"I know exactly what you're saying. Why don't we pick a day and a spot away from everything like this and have our own little ceremony, with vows and stuff, just as an affirmation? It would also come in handy for buying anniversary presents if we have a day we can call our anniversary."
"I'd like that very much," Molly sighed as she lay her head on his chest. "Why don't we return to the car and discuss a good day while we resume our journey?"
"Good idea." He stood and helped her up. As she came to her feet her arms circled his waist. He held her close with her head on his shoulder and stroked her hair with his fingers.
"That feels good, Bill," Molly whispered. Then she felt his whole body tense. The stroking stopped. "Bill, what is it?"
"I hope you're not a fan of long engagements."
Molly lifted her head. "Why, whatever do you m--"
She looked up and found herself engulfed in the barrel of a rifle the size of Buckingham Palace. She couldn't see the hands that held it; the infinite blackness of the steel tunnel swallowed her whole body, obscured the world about her and wove her soul into its impenetrable depths. Somewhere in another reality she felt Bill's arms tighten about her. She heard, somewhere in yet a third reality, a faint click that she knew was the rifle's hammer. She pressed herself more tightly to the second reality that was the man she loved and waited for the darkness to claim her.