I sat at my desk working late as I normally did on Friday nights, but events were already in motion that would change my view of life forever. A stabbing pain in the small of my back announced it was time for a break, so I punched the computer’s print key, commanding the next-to-last batch of invoices to run. I picked up the phone intending to call Joann, my bride of twenty years. She usually waited up for me or at least waited until I called before she went to sleep, but my phone was dead. Odd, I thought, but then I remembered a news story said solar flares might play havoc with communications for a day or two.

Intending to take a stroll, I stepped out of my brightly-lit office onto the deserted factory floor. Only a few night-lights far overhead gallantly fought the clutching shadows. Row after row of idle machinery stood like phantoms stretching away for a distance of two city blocks before ending at the loading docks. The short hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up on goose bumps because the murky shadows seemed alive, just waiting for me to turn my back so they could resume playing some eerie game, unobserved. Instead of walking, I decided to take a look outside, wondering if the aurora borealis would be visible in Georgia.

Opening the back door leading into the parking lot, a February chill gripped my bones. Through the slowly swirling mist I saw one car sitting in a lot constructed for hundreds. It was mine. Fog shrouded the few parking lot lights, making them appear as portals to another dimension, and only muted traffic noise from the freeway a block away tied me to reality.

From the inky depths of the deserted factory, a howl sliced through the stillness sending chills running up and down my spine before I remembered the family of wild cats that slinked around by night and hid by day. The cats lived on unlucky rodents and the goodwill of the Pinkerton Guards, but never before had I heard them scream such a heart stopping cry.

I propped the door open, leaned against the outside railing, and lit a cigarette. "Good evening Gregg," came a voice from just inside. My knees turned to jelly and my heart relocated somewhere around the pit of my stomach.

My friend Bobbie, the Pinkerton Guard, leaned out over the doorjamb and smiled at me. Her brilliant white teeth seemed to glow against her charcoal colored skin. She stood just inside at the fire call-box ready to turn her key at the stroke of two. She giggled, "Didn’t scare you, did I?"

"No. Of course not," I lied, happy that she couldn’t see my bald head turn red from embarrassment. "Stay and chat a while?" I pleaded.

"Can’t right now," she answered. "I’ve got to make my rounds."

I watched her hurry away. Almost immediately the slight figure dressed in dark blue coveralls was consumed in the shadows. Even her flashlight beam was lost to me when she cut across two rows of metal megaliths. I hoped I’d see her again before the night was over. Almost frozen, I flipped my cigarette away and closed the door.

Returning to the office, I found Joann smiling up at me from her perch on the couch, sitting on her blue-jean clad crossed legs. Although it’s a short drive to the factory, she seldom visited me late at night, and I was happily shocked. "I, uh, I didn’t see you come in, Sweetheart."

"Wanted to surprise you," she said, her round face smiling, "so I came in the front."

"I’m delighted you’re here . . . what’s up, Hon?"

"The kids are out, and I couldn’t sleep," she explained in that soft, husky voice that made my heart flutter. "Chris is pulling an all-nighter, studying over at Gary’s, and Barbara Ann is staying the night with a friend."

I sat down at my computer, pulled up the last folder, and hit sort. "Now," I said, watching her pale face carefully, "that’ll keep this electronic brain busy a while. Why did you really come down here in the middle of the night?"

"I just had to see you and touch you," she said in an odd, gentle tone. I’ve never told you how much I miss you when you’re away. I know you have to work. It takes so many sacrifices to put two kids through college."

I glanced back at my computer screen, noting that it was about a quarter of the way through its task and asked, "There’s something else . . . isn’t there?"

A tear spilled from her ocean-green eyes before she answered, "I let you get off without a goodbye kiss this morning."

Who can fathom the mind of a woman? I thought, but said, "We can remedy that right now. Can’t we?"

As I stood up, she seemed to float into my arms. Her familiar plump body molded against my slightly pudgy torso. I ran my hands through her wavy blond hair that rolled down over her shoulders and felt her arms circle me like a vice.

Looking down into her up-tilted face, I returned the hug, and bent down to kiss her generous lips, losing myself in her gentleness, her sensuous fragrance and the passion.

Presently, she broke the embrace and smiled up at me. I smiled back. "Hold that thought," I said. "I can get these invoices in the mail pretty quick."

"It’s OK now," she said. "I’m going home."

"Wait. I’ll see you out to your car."

"No. You finish your work. Everything will be just fine."

With a parting smile and a click of the door-latch she was gone. I gathered up the invoices from the printer, punched print for the last batch and started putting postage on the previous batch, all the time telling myself to hurry.

My work finished, I stepped into the darkened factory which was still lightly scented with Joann’s fragrance. The night shadows were just shadows. As I walked to my car, I noticed the fog had blown away just as quickly as it had rolled in. Then I glanced at the clear four a.m. sky. If there had been any northern lights, they had dissipated.

Traffic on the way home was nonexistence except for one lone ambulance which wasn’t in any particular hurry. My street came up just as I passed the church we occasionally attended. I was glad to see the lights restored that light up the giant cross on the side of the three-story brick structure. Then my thoughts turned to the mystery of what really lies on the other side of the grave and concluded that no man can really know until it’s his time.

Turning onto my street, I was alarmed. Flashing red and blue lights in front of my house turned the morning into a nightmare. Surreal ghostly figures of firemen crossed in front of police headlights. This can’t be real, I thought, I must be on the wrong street, but I had not turned wrong. It was my street.

What had been my house lay centered in the fire truck’s spotlights. Charred, smoldering, ashes. A burned out hulk sat beside the collapsed carport on melted tires. My mind screamed that can’t be Joann’s car. I just talked to her!

The Fire Chief rushed up. Over the din of engine noise, he shouted, "Sir, you live here?"

"What happened?" I demanded.

He just shook his head and repeated his question a little softer.

Numbly, I nodded, "Yes . . . yes I did." Confused, I asked, "What time was the fire?"

"Your wife called in just before two a.m. She said she was trapped in the master bedroom. I’m really sorry."

I stared at him dumbly thinking this can’t be real. I just talked to Joann.

"Was your wife the only person home?"

"Yes," I answered without emotion. "Joann said earlier the children were out for the night."

His eyes met mine and again he said, "Mister, I’m really sorry." Then he turned away and went back to his men.

In despair, I watched the eastern skies grow pink, wondering how I was going to get through the day. I wanted more than anything to trade places with Joann. But suddenly, I was enveloped in peaceful calmness because just then I knew without a doubt, the grave is not the end. Everything will be just fine. Joann said so.

Copyright ©2000 Hoyt Brown.  All Rights Reserved