Time Dancers by Steve Cash Page A

the last of the lights and about to climb into bed. “Yes,” she said through the sudden dark. “But the name is nonverbal. Do you…need a name, my love?”
    “No, no,” I said, stumbling into the room.
    “Come to bed, Z. I want you next to me.”
    I bumped into the bed and crawled between the sheets where I found her skin.
    “In the morning you leave,” she said. “Tonight, come dream with me.”
         
    Not long after first light, I awoke to the voices of Owen Bramley and Mitch in the hallway. Owen seemed to be giving instructions and Mitch was saying, “I got it, I got it.” Then he was bounding down the stairs and I heard the sound of a door opening and closing. I sat up and glanced out the window. The sky was blue and clear and the sun was shining. If the time had come to leave St. Louis, I thought, at least it would be on a beautiful spring day.
    As I dressed, Opari sang a song in Old French, a gentle Provençal poem she had learned from a troubadour a thousand years earlier. It was called an aubade, she said, and told the story of lovers parting at dawn.
    We said good-bye at the bedroom door. It was much easier than I anticipated and lasted only a few moments. Opari simply reminded me that I must return; otherwise she would have to come and find me. I laughed and kissed her lips, which were moist and soft against mine. To this day, partings from the ones you hold most dear are a great mystery to me. They always seem to break your heart and fill it with warmth at the same time, a nearly impossible balance of feelings and emotion. Before she closed the door, Opari touched my cheek once more, then traced every feature on my face with her fingertips. Her last words were, “Au revoir, my love, and find a good place for Unai and Usoa to rest in peace.”
    Owen met me at the end of the hall and handed over a packet of letters and instructions for various contacts along the train route and in New York. He had special letters written for a man in U.S. Customs and the captain of the ship on which we would be sailing, the Iona. He assured me that enough money to keep from worrying would be transferred to Barcelona and available to me upon arrival. He also said he had procured a private railcar for our journey, equipped with sleeping berths and a separate storage compartment for the coffins.
    I looked across the hall to the room Ray had been using. The door was wide open but the room was empty.
    “Where’s Ray?” I asked.
    “I’m not sure,” Owen said. “He knocked on my door a good twenty minutes before sunrise and informed me he wanted me to find Mitch and tell him to meet him down at Union Station early. Never gave a reason. Just told me to tell Mitch. He was packed and on his way by dawn.” Owen adjusted his glasses and the two of us stood in silence for a few moments.
    “Where’s Carolina?” I asked.
    “She’s in the kitchen. She said to remind you if you didn’t say good-bye this time, you couldn’t come back.” He picked up a fedora that lay on a side table, then pointed with it downstairs. “I’ll wait outside for you.”
    I had said my farewells to Star and Willie and Jack the night before. I wanted to see Carolina last. “Give me five minutes, Owen.”
    “Take your time, Z.”
         
    Carolina was standing alone in the kitchen, caught in a beam of early light streaming in from the east. She was facing the window, kneading a loaf of bread on the counter. Her hands were covered with flour and a small cloud of flour dust surrounded her, floating in the beam of sunlight. Her freckles stood out in bright brown patches across her nose and cheeks. A strand of hair came loose and she stopped to brush it away from her face.
    I stood just inside the door and spoke before she saw me. “I was told I had better come see you or else suffer the consequences.”
    “Z!” she cried, then relaxed. “Well, yes, that’s true. There would have been consequences.” She smiled once and returned to