Epiphany
As we feasted Pegasus emerged from the trees to graze at the far end of the meadow. Christine cheered and whistled, capered about for the horse’s entertainment, while I took my turn cradling the little girl I had promised I would help rear as my own. The Sun dipped behind the peak overlooking the shadowland canyon, though the land all around was still bathed in golden light. Christine wandered farther off in the direction of Pegasus. About then I noticed a small butterfly flexing its jonquil wings as it perched on the edge of the picnic basket, perhaps attracted by the scent of the jar of honey inside. I leaned over to ask where all its friends were, but it took flight. As I watched it fluttering away toward Christine I discovered it had answered my unspoken question. Swirling around the new mother like dust caught in a sunbeam, the swarm of yellow creatures danced, silently expressing their joy over our reunion. Christine reached for them, enchanted as a child, but they moved too swiftly and erratically to capture. So she played for a few moments, forgetting completely about the mare and the baby, as the shadows deepened across the valley.
Suddenly her waving arms and grasping hands fell to her sides. She turned and stared up the valley, in the direction from where both road and river came. I saw Pegasus jerk her head up from her meal, turn tail and dash back into the woods. Even the butterflies seemed to hover uncertainly. Then I heard it too—an engine running on a deep, steady throttle, growing louder by the second. From our perspective the road cut a thin, snaking scar through the rolling forest, resembling a garden hose dropped across a healthy lawn. A short stretch of the highway lay in plain sight at the bottom of the hill, and by extension we lay in plain sight from the road, especially Christine with her red frock against the green grass and trees. I called to her, but she had frozen in dreadful anticipation, certain sure that Gregg was braving the day’s last light in his undying quest for the one he loved. If he was going to this much trouble she might as well make it worth the trip.
At last the airplane appeared over the valley’s western rim, perhaps a kilometer in altitude and another distant. The setting Sun glinted on the red and white fuselage of a single-engine turboprop, gliding on the prevailing wind. I moved to Christine’s side and we gazed as one in utter astonishment. Humanity had arisen again, had reacquired the skill of defying gravity by means of dinosaur farts! Humbly I said aloud what I thought she was thinking, but she shook her head, and after a moment’s reflection I realized even Gregg’s ghost would never again dare to pilot any craft under a blue sky, much less through one. At that instant Capella began to whimper on the blanket where I left her, and though Christine struggled to tear her eyes away she went to her at once. So she did not see the plane disappearing behind the mountains, never veering from its eastward course, nor the stupefaction that must have swept over me as I solved the mystery in a frightful burst of intuition. Everything and every word my exalted mentors Karen and Ben had tried to tell me without saying them was spoken simultaneously at precisely the right instant.
Today I can aver unequivocally that I don’t even know what language they used. I can only describe what happened next, and next and next...
Christine returned to my side holding Capella. There was nothing left to see up there but indigo infinity. I asked them if they would like to be witness to another miracle.
Capella burped.