Under The Stars

Behind them, the train chuffed away from the station; its plume of black smoke momentarily smudging out the crystalline stars. Its whistle echoed up and down the river valley, intent on fulfilling its schedule even as the small towns slumbered on, snuggled against the Pennsylvania hills.

As the four walked home, their breaths puffed white in the darkness and every fresh burst of laughter renewed the bright cloud around them.

The two couples - Paul and Julia, Alvin and Miriam - had been to Pittsburgh that evening for a concert. Now, late at night, they were returning in a holiday mood, laughing and talking, reluctant for the evening to end.

Paul looked up the hill toward their house, half a mile away, and thought of the children, snug in bed now, with Mrs. Phillips to watch over them. He turned back to his wife and tucked her gloved hand more firmly into the crook of his arm. She smiled at him and he longed to run his fingers over the faint shadows created by the pale moonlight on her cheek.

“’You okay?” she murmured.

“Yes,” he answered. “I’m just looking forward to helping you out of that dress.”

“Paul!” Her hushed exclamation was more caressing than scolding. She glanced at the others ahead of them to be sure they hadn’t heard then ducked her head, but Paul saw her smile.

Ahead, Alvin carried the lantern with its merry flame and sang snatches of a half-remembered song. They all laughed when he made up words to fit the phrases he forgot.

“No wonder Stephen Foster is so popular, writing songs with such catchy words to them,” Paul teased.

“I taught him everything he knows,” Alvin threw over his shoulder with a laugh.

Alvin and Miriam’s footsteps echoed as they crossed a board laid down in place of some missing sidewalk.

The cold burned their lungs and made them all laugh louder than usual. They were each in their mid-thirties with family and business cares and responsibilities, but tonight they were young again, back in the days of wide-open possibilities and constant laughter, even if for only a few hours.

Julia looked up and said, “The stars are so bright tonight.”

Paul stopped and threw his head back, fascinated as always with the constellations. Julia smiled and walked on before he could start pointing them all out to her.

“Look, dear, there’s Ursa…” Paul’s words were cut off by the sound of wood groaning, splitting, then giving away completely.

Julia let out a short shriek. Paul grabbed for her, but she was gone.

“Julia!” Paul stared into the black hole at his feet; his frantic gaze swept the darkness for any sign of his wife.

Alvin and Miriam turned and rushed back to them.

Paul dropped to his knees and gripped the jagged edge of the hole. “Julia!” His voice broke in panic.

Her voice, thin and shaken, came from the dark. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

Alvin held the lamp high over the hole and they saw Julia’s upturned face.

Relief washed over Paul. He lay flat on the ground and reached down. “Can you reach my hand?”

Julia strained but could not get high enough. “I can’t reach, Paul.” Her voice sounded small and fearful.

Paul sat up on his knees and forced himself to think. “We need a ladder.”

Alvin set the lantern beside the hole. “I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Julia called, "I have an idea." She had recovered a little and sounded stronger than she had a moment before. “It’s so dark down here, but I may be able to find a foothold if I can see the walls.”

Paul shook his head. Even now, when most people - men and women - would panic, his wife's practical nature asserted itself. Paul called to her, "Too dangerous." He pressed down the panic which rose in his own chest. Julia was undoubtedly shaken, but essentially unharmed, and a ladder would soon have her safe in his arms. Safe in his arms. He repeated the phrase as though the mantra alone might make it happen.

“All I need is one foothold so that I can reach your hand. Lower the lantern a little way so I can see.”

Alvin looked to Paul.

Surely, this fear which clawed at his heart was irrational. Julia’s idea would have her out of the hole and safe again long before a ladder could be found and brought back.

Paul pushed aside his misgivings and nodded.

Alvin lifted the lamp by its chain and gradually lowered the bright flame into the hole.

Paul peered down and Julia turned her face to his. A smudge of dirt crossed one cheek and she smiled bravely. “You look so worried, love. I’m fine, really. I’ll be out before you…”

The explosion rocked the three back from the edge of the hole. Flames spewed up and the ground heaved as a huge roar filled the air.

Paul put a hand to his face and blinked to clear his eyes. His head spun and he staggered to his feet.

“Julia.”

He took two drunken steps toward the hole and collapsed at the edge. Smoke billowed up and flames smoldered far below.

“Julia!”

No answer.

“Julia!” His voice broke and he choked on a sob. He stared into the hole, willing himself to hear her voice, to see her face.

Shadowy figures shouted and moved around him as a crowd gathered, drawn from sleepy houses by the terrifying noise. The fire brigade arrived with its alarm bell in full swing. Carts rumbled to a halt, horses balked at the acrid smell of smoke in the air, dogs barked in excited confusion.

Still, Paul sat and searched the hole. The explosion roared in his ears and he blinked against the flames, long after both had died away. She must be there still. He had just seen her a moment ago. She must be there. Where was she?

Finally, two men came and lifted him to his feet.

“I can’t…I can’t leave Julia,” he whispered.

A brisk voice replied. “It’s all right, sir. She’s in no pain. We need to get your burns treated now.”

“Burns?” Paul didn’t recognize his own bewildered voice. He didn’t feel any physical pain; why were they taking him away from her?

Paul stumbled along between the men. Through the haze, he saw Alvin and Miriam surrounded by an army of neighbors, armed with blankets, bandages, and coffee.

As he passed through the murmur of voices, he distinguished certain phrases: natural gas explosion, careless workmen, rotten board, poor husband.

The men helped Paul to sit on the end of a cart while the doctor examined him.

Paul tried to see past the doctor, past the milling crowd. He couldn’t see the hole any more. How could he help Julia if he couldn’t even see the hole anymore?

“I have to…I have to get back…to Julia. She’s in there. Let me go.” Paul struggled in vain against the iron grip of the men who held him in place on the cart.

The doctor straightened and glanced at one of the men. “Well, his burns are serious, but they won’t kill him if we can keep him calm.” He turned and rummaged in his bag then addressed Paul. “Sir, I’m going to give you a little laudanum to help the pain. Sir!”

The sharp bark focused Paul’s attention on the doctor. He looked at the small bottle in the doctor’s hand and nodded in the hopes that if he went along with them, they would let him go back to Julia. He took an obedient swallow of the liquid.

Gradually, it became harder to fight the men who still gripped his arms, harder to move, to think, to remember. Finally, the laudunum claimed his body - the tension slipped from his muscles and he fell back, unconscious.

Then she was there again in the moonlight. She wore a different dress, a simple white dress, far too thin for such a cold night, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders and contrasted with her alabaster skin.

He wanted to tell her how relieved he was that she was okay, how scared he had been, how much he loved her, but he couldn’t speak. He knew, though, in that moment, that he didn’t need to speak. She knew. She took his arm and smiled and they walked home together, one more time, under the stars.

Word count: 1384