Meet Me in the Moon Room by Ray Vukcevich Read Free Book Online

doors were perfectly balanced because she grabbed the wheel and pulled. The door swung aside smoothly and she moved into the corridor.
    “Okay,” Stuart said. “Let’s take our places at the table.”
    “What is this?” Bill sounded irked, but Stuart had known him long enough to know that he was intrigued.
    “Mood,” Stuart said. He lighted the candle and switched off the electric light. “Believing the unbelievable is all about mood. Come on, sit down.”
    Bill and Elizabeth took chairs at the round table. Lewis filled his glass again and sat down next to Elizabeth.
    Stuart sat down. “Okay, hold hands.”
    “Oh, boy,” Elizabeth said. She took Bill’s hand. Lewis was staring down at his drink and didn’t respond to her outstretched hand.
    “Come on, Lewis,” Stuart said.
    “Okay, okay,” Lewis said. “Let’s blast off.” He took Elizabeth’s hand.
    “Everyone close your eyes,” Stuart said.
    “Studies show that listening to Mozart strengthens your mind,” Bill said.
    “Personally, I go for Ginkgo Biloba,” Elizabeth said.
    “All you need is love,” Lewis said, maybe a little bitterly.
    “Close your eyes, and she will come,” Stuart said.
    One by one they closed their eyes. Stuart closed his last. He waited. Bill’s hand was dry. Lewis’ was cold from the ice in the drink he’d been holding. Stuart’s chair was hard.
    “Do you think we should say her name in spooky voices?” Elizabeth asked.
    “No,” Stuart said. “Maybe. I don’t know. Let’s try concentration first.”
    He concentrated.
    Several minutes later, he peeked out at the others and looked right into the wide-open eyes of Elizabeth. She gave him a crooked grin and a wink. He frowned at her, and she sighed and closed her eyes. He waited a moment more to make sure everyone was cooperating before closing his eyes again.
    “Maybe we should turn up the fire,” Lewis said.
    “Quiet,” Stuart said.
    It did seem colder. And the underground sounds, the pressure of all that earth and snow above, seemed to press down a little harder. He imagined the room had gotten smaller. If he opened his eyes now, he would see the walls just a few inches from the table. Marilyn would be there like an unhappy spirit—always hanging around hoping, on the one hand, she wasn’t bothering anyone, and weepy, on the other hand, because she was unable to have much impact on the living. He could see the flickering candlelight through his eyelids.
    Then there was a breeze.
    Of course, there could be no breeze in the silo. This was a breeze produced by his belief. It was the wind that would blow the ghost of his dead wife into the parlor of the ICBM silo. There was a rustle of cloth, like the thighs of someone sneaking around in tight jeans. Then tiptoes through dead leaves.
    The breeze became the gentle huff of breath on his cheek.
    Someone whispered, very close, her lips just brushing his ear, “Both sexes of alligators bellow.”
    It didn’t sound like Marilyn, and certainly not like anything Marilyn would say. She might have been like that a long, long time ago. Bright eyes and big smile, and the way she had moved just made your fingers itch to unwrap her, but nothing like that these days. These days she was the coughing woman. The whimpering woman. The I-don’t-mean-to-bother-you-but-I-must-moan woman. Both sexes of alligators bellow. Such a wet thought. And there was the smell of lemons.
    Elizabeth gasped. Then there was silence again. Stuart listened carefully but he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining the sounds of something drifting around the table delivering little messages from the great beyond.
    He wanted to see her.
    He opened his eyes. Marilyn wasn’t in the room. Bill’s chin had tipped down to his chest. He might have fallen asleep. Elizabeth, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, was sitting up very straight and seemed to be struggling to hear something. Slow tears streaked Lewis’ cheeks.
    Where had Marilyn gone? Had she been