The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

small tremor caused a flowerpot to rattle. Morrow looked up at the sky, but no cloud marred the cerulean still life.

Within a few minutes, all that had changed. The sky began to turn a strange shade of gray and an uneasiness entered the garden, while on the Battery a sudden wave lashed against the seawall.

As Rook cowered in her arms, Morrow remembered what Rad had told her when she was a child—that animals could sense something even before humans could, an eclipse of the sun, a hurricane, or a tornado. Was that why Rook was behaving so strangely? But Morrow was not aware of any prediction in the almanac.

She stood, set Rook free, and then started up the steps. But then the earth shuddered, causing the steps to shift. She lost her balance and fell to the ground. Before she could pick herself up, she saw the sundial slowly sink into the lawn, while behind her there was an awful creaking noise. She looked back just in time to see the disintegration of the house, as it split in two, with the heavy slate roof hurling its broken tiles toward her.

“Mrs. Legare! Maum Lena!” she screamed.

Another tile grazed her temple as Morrow crawled toward the wrought-iron gate that miraculously stayed attached to a post, even though the fence was gone.

“Someone, help!” she called out to anyone who might hear her. But no one answered. And no one came to help. Like a drunken sailor attempting to stand on deck in a storm, Morrow swayed, took one step and then another, trying to reach the area where the piazza had once stood.

At her feet lay the reed basket, with clusters of wisteria unbruised, as if someone had gently placed it on the ground. A cotton-gloved hand was barely visible under the debris. And seeing it, Morrow started to cry. She pushed a broken baluster aside and began to dig with her hands. But then she realized that she was too late. Juliette Legare was dead.

Then she became aware of the smoke rising from a hole that had once been the kitchen. “Maum Lena!” she cried out.

In horror, she watched the flames take shape, hissing and popping against the dry wood of the old house, with the crack in the earth widening and separating her from further exploration. The flames quickly spread, reaching the wisteria vine and climbing like a tightrope dancer to the top, the air pungent as a funeral pyre laden with flowers.

A dazed Morrow finally reached the sidewalk. And in her arms she held Rook, the small black and white spaniel, the only other survivor from the house facing the Battery.

All around her, people were running. The city was on fire; the sky was no longer visible beyond the great layers of smoke. She continued to walk slowly, being pushed aside by others in a hurry.

And then she felt a hand on her arm. “Are you alone?” the voice asked.

“Yes. They’re dead. All dead.”

Her blond hair had come down, hiding a portion of her smoke-stained face. Only the amethyst eyes were visible, staring straight ahead, not seeing the man who had spoken.

And then she was separated from the man by a horde of people struggling to reach safety. She walked on, caught up in the swelling tide, buffeted about, shoved, then pushed back by the stampede, until the voice once again spoke to her.

“Here, let me carry the dog. You hold on to my arm, and I’ll take you to safety.”

She did as she was told, giving up Rook to the stranger and clinging to his arm.

“There’s a ship in the harbor,” he said. “If we can reach it, then we can ride out the earthquake on the water.”

He didn’t speak to her again for another half hour, for the crowds were becoming more panicked, everyone racing for the wharf at the same time. And it was all he could do to keep his balance and see that she was not separated from him again.

Where he led, she followed, trying to dodge a particularly vicious jab from someone’s elbow. And yet she barely felt the blow. She was only aware of the blood trickling down her face as the wound at her temple began bleeding again. Then she was put in a boat, headed out for the ship. But the stranger remained on the wharf, with Rook still in his arms, for there was no room for a dog in the boat.

Several hours later, the ship was full and riding out to sea. By that time, Morrow had washed the blood and soot from her face and pinned up her hair. Not nearly so dazed now, she sat quietly in a deck chair and watched the bonfire that had once been Charleston.

“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said. “But isn’t this your dog?”

Morrow looked up. “Rook,” she said, holding out her arms for the little spaniel. “Thank you,” she added, “for everything. You’ve been so kind, Mr.…” She hesitated, waiting for him to supply the name of her benefactor.

“Andrew Lachlan.”

“And I’m Morrow Forsyth.”

In the house along Lake Michigan, Morrow snuggled closer to her husband.

“What are you thinking about, Morrow?” he asked.

“The earthquake. The day we met.”

“Luckiest day of my life,” he said.

Morrow smiled a bittersweet smile. “Mine, too.”

CHAPTER

29

Three days later, Jonathan and Ginna stood in the walled lakeshore garden, with Andrew and Morrow the only witnesses to the secret marriage ceremony performed by the Reverend Brunson.

Morrow had sent David away with Nanny for the afternoon, for she believed that small boys should never be entrusted with family secrets. It was against their very nature to keep them, no matter how hard they tried. Only Allie had been taken into their confidence. But, after all, she was family, too, just as her mother, Rebecca, had been.

That afternoon, Morrow was at peace with herself. Ginna and Jonathan were so right for each other, and she felt no trepidation in being a party