But one can always be a man.
―Goethe
Abe was with the provincial police searching for little Katie―Cindy was there and even Mitzi...
and I was back at the house rocking Ben and telling him stories.
I knew what I was doing was necessary, but I still felt impotent and weak as a bystander.
Sometimes it takes a crisis to bring out the best and worst in a person. I knew what Katie's search was bringing out in my friends―I didn't like what it was bringing out in me.
Ben was sleeping again, safe in my arms and I was thinking again about what kind of man I was.
It always comes back to me and Cindy. I think she loves me because I'm kind, but being kind is not enough―if I'm not the kind of man she needs, but just wants.
I picture the two of us―as unlikely a pair, as Abe told me one night in The Wheatsheaf Tavern. I thought Cindy was a player and he told me I got it wrong. Well, I did but that's the essence of me―I don't think, I feel―at best, I think-feel.
But Cindy is so practical―she thinks so logically...like a hawk soaring. Me, I just feel and do it chaotically, like a kite without a tail plummeting to earth.
And now, I don't know what she ever saw in me.
Ben is sleeping soundly, so I carefully lay him in the cushioned playpen and drape a small receiving blanket over him.
I'm restless and want so desperately to phone Cindy and check on the progress of the search, but I refrain because I don't want to interrupt when every second counts.
I no longer hear the helicopter whirling overhead―I don't know if that's a good sign or not and a glance out the window panics me―it's near dusk and already beginning to get dark.
I go to the window, part the curtain and look out, but there are only shadows and the sun red and dying in the woods.
I should be out there helping. Surely there's a policewoman who could watch Ben―and then I smile bleakly at the irony―as if what I'm doing isn't suited for men.
Well, what the hell difference would I make out there with no training and in the way?
The twilight deepens and I see a figure in the woods. Thinking it Cindy, I'm about to wave, before I realize it's the resident ghost, stopped and staring back my way.
I freeze, unable to think or move, just stare back fascinated at the figure in the gloom.
A sudden movement catches the corner of my eye and I see Mitzy walking back alone despondent and crying.
She sees me in the lighted window and follows my gaze back across the darkening meadow to the woods where the ghost stands waiting.
And then, all three of us stand spellbound as in a tableau vivant, until the spell is broken by a small child’s cry.
Katie emerges from the darkened woods and the ghost points to Mitzy and gestures for her to go.
Little Katie pauses a moment as if reluctant to leave, but the ghost urges her again and finally, she begins to run across the field.
Mitzy’s still frozen in fear or shock, but as Katie approaches, she runs and gathers her into her arms.
The ghost still lingers in the gathering dusk as Mitzy carries Katie back to the house, but on impulse, she stops and waves to the figure and the woman waves back and slowly disappears.