Mothman's Arc

Chapter 6 of 7

The crew worked through the afternoon. Mothman stayed under the span and passed up braces when the carpenter asked. By dusk the middle beam held better than it had all week. Mothette waited on the bank with her shawl pulled tight. When the men packed their tools and walked back toward the village, she stood and brushed moss from her legs. Come on, she said. You've been under a bridge for two days. She led him along the reed path to her tent, a lavender thing sewn with pale stars, tucked between two willows. Inside, she lit a small lamp and put a kettle on a flat stone. Mothman sat with his wings folded and his hands on his knees. He had rehearsed the sentence at least forty times under the bridge. He opened his mouth. What came out was, the middle beam is better. She looked at him. I know, she said. You told me an hour ago. She poured the tea. He tried again. He said, Mothette. She waited. He looked at the lamp instead of at her. The words stuck behind his teeth like wet leaves. She set the cup down and watched him struggle. Then she reached into a cloth bag and pulled out a deck of tarot cards, worn at the corners, painted in gold and dark blue. She fanned the deck across the floor between them. Pick one, she said. He touched a card with one claw. She turned it over. A figure with wings, standing at the edge of a cliff, holding a lantern. She looked at the card a long time. Then she looked at him. You didn't come to Mothette weeks ago because you needed a messenger, she said. You came because you love her. Me. She stopped and pressed her palm to her forehead. I'm sorry. I'm doing it wrong. She lowered her hand. Is that what you're trying to say? He nodded once. He could not make his throat work. She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding for days. Okay, she said. Okay. Because I've been afraid I made that up. I thought I was reading a thing that wasn't there and it would steer us wrong. She reached across the cards and took his hand. Her fingers were warm and small against his. Neither of them spoke for a while. Then she said, I love you too. He nodded, smiling. She did not let go of his hand. Outside, the frogs started up.