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Show 57 light in the back went out and, a moment later, Sparkle appeared at the front of the building, framed in the square of hall light at the front door. For an instant she did not move, seemed to be surveying her transported world and dutiful subjects at a careful distance. Then the hall light too went out. She was dressed as always in white shorts and halter top. The high-heeled shoes had either been thrown away or packed in one of the boxes. She moved on bare feet across the lawn. There was no question but that she saw Fogarty-her eyes did not leave him as she moved-and it seemed to him for a moment that she was coming to him. But her destination was only the pick-up, the couch at the back to which she was lifted by one of the men. Sitting on it, one leg slung over the other, she seemed theatrically at ease; as everyone else began, one by one, to disappear into their vehicles and mount their bikes. The caravan was loaded. Six doors slammed shut. Then, as though the world itself was awaiting a final sign, all was quiet. Sparkle sat on the couch, looking at Fogarty who was looking back. The sixty feet between them was as nothing. Fogarty could feel her eyes, the heat, could nearly count the regular beat of her heart. And then, clearly enough, he heard her voice. "We fixed the toilet," she said through the still night air which separated them. "It was no big deal. The keys are in the mailbox." There was no triumph in her voice, no noticeable satisfaction; but if there was sorrow, that too was hidden. |
