Page Content (OCR)
The Child - Nine The Child - Nine know what you’ ve got to say for yourself,” he muttered angrily. Ted looked at him blankly, gave a little lurch, and then vomited explosively all over everything. The other employees jumped away, and Ted fell back sprawling into the stacks of dishes. The back door of the van flew open under his pres- sure, and trays full of china and crystal bounced out, trailing broken glass in the wake. Miraculously, nobody tumbled out in the uproar that followed, although Bert was clearly tempted to toss Ted out along with the mess he had made. It was two full days before Ted recovered, two painful days in which he kept to his bed with ice packs on his head, gobbling medicine made by the hosts of the party, and fer- vently praying that they wouldn’t fire for impertinence on the job. In spite of the pain and humiliation, though, he had relished his fling at the party. He loved the fast pace of the valley, and he didn’t ever want to leave. When Bert finally relented and forgave him, Ted was grateful and more devoted than ever to carrying out his duties. Winter passed, the summer season opened, and the rou- tine of work once again paced his life. If his destiny didn’t lie in love, maybe he’d find himself a different challenge, with its own risks and rewards. Ted went back to his business studies in the off-hours with a renewed sense of determina- tion. But some of the habits he developed during his solitary period stayed with him. He spent much of his spare time hiking through the nature trails, gaining more from his surroundings than from his studies. His heart and soul expanded in nature. Birds and animals came to him willingly and fearlessly, recognizing a kinship with him. Ted saw nothing unusual in this, but his friends, witnessing the rapport between Ted and the wildlife, knew it was remarkable. The new season brought more new employees, energizing the social scene, but Ted had no desire to find any new romantic interests. He had dealt with Jill, he had got back his emotional balance, and he was in no hurry to risk upsetting it again. His buddies were enough for now, and the things he studied kept him well occupied. As far as he was concerned, Masquerade of Angels 7 life in his personal paradise was just fine. But balance, like everything else in the world, can be a fragile illusion. One day, rounding a corner in the hall with an armful of trays, Ted literally lost his equilibrium and banged into a young woman with a clatter. “Hey, I’m awfully sorry,” he said, gathering up the pile of trays from the floor. ‘That’s okay,” she said lightly, and Ted looked up to see an exotically beautiful woman gazing down at him with a smile. She was eighteen, maybe nineteen, he judged, and a perfect beauty. Fine, elegant features, cascading warm, brown hair, skin of a most unusual coppery tan, and dark, dark eyes that hinted of the orient. Ted was struck dumb in awe, and when the girl passed by him with another smile and a wave, he just nodded. Dressed in a waitress uniform, she disappeared into the hall, and Ted collected the last of the trays and headed into the workroom. “What happened to you?” one of the other waiters asked. “Run into a bus?” “No, a girl,” Ted grinned. “And just wait till you see her! You’re not going to believe this one.” He watched throughout the Lodge complex for the next few days, hoping to see her again. But he had no luck. He wasn’t even sure that she worked inside the Lodge itself, with all the other facilities in the valley. Giving up on his quest, Ted returned to his habit of mountain walks, and on the very first one, about a quarter of a mile up the path, Ted saw the beautiful young woman sit- ting beneath a tree beside the trail. She was alone, and she waved to him silently, smiling. Ted waved back and continued up the trail, suddenly shy. He had been very surprised to see her there; he almost never met other hikers at this time of day, and he thought it was a rare coincidence. Ted reconsidered and decided to go back and talk to her, but when he reached the tree, he was again too shy to speak. At last the woman got up and walked toward him. “Hello,” she said, extending her hand, “I’m Maya, and I’m new here. Where are you from?” Masquerade of Angels 77