The Heart's Ashes
Page 81
“Yeah. The magician, right?” We stopped in front of an aircraft display; the old Cessna on the roof, hoisted to the rafters by metal cables, still smelled of oil—gritty and dry.
“Yes,” David said. “But what most people don’t know, is that he was also a pioneer of flight.”
My brow creased. “You’re making that up.”
He dropped his head and laughed. “No, I’m not, sweetheart. I wouldn’t do that. You see?” He pressed a fingertip to an image on the carpet-backed pin-board; two men sitting inside the open-aired cockpit of what looked like a toy plane. Wings of wood, longer than modern planes—stacked on top each other—with wheels that belonged on a bicycle. “That’s Harry Houdini,” he said.
“Wow. Hey, did you ever meet him?”
“You lived in Australia, did you ever meet The Crock Hunter?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” He shook his head, looking back at the image. “But, I know his story. I followed it in the papers. Harry—” he pointed to the man, “—was the first person ever to fly a powered aircraft in Australia.”
“Really? I should’ve known that.”
“It’s not really common knowledge.”
“So, what kind of plane is that?” I leaned closer. “I know what a Cessna and a bi-plane are, but that’s, like, wooden or something, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” He smiled. “It was a French, Voisin bi-plane. He paid five thousand dollars for it, I believe. Here, it says, He shipped it over to Australia in nineteen-ten.” David rubbed his chin. “I think it was at Diggers Rest, near Melbourne, that he made the flight.”
I scrolled down the page of information and, sure enough, the words Diggers Rest stood out. Okay, I’m impressed.
David kind of skipped on his toe then; his hands behind his back as he walked away.
“Guess I was wrong,” I noted, catching up to him. “You did teach me something I didn’t know.”
“There’s so much to learn about the world, Ara.” He seemed to motion around the museum, or maybe the world, with a kind of fascination I’d never seen alive in him before. “I’ve had nearly two lifetimes, and I still have not seen even half of its wonders.”
“Yet you always seem to know everything.”
“No, mon amour. I don’t know everything. In fact, when I visited a museum last, I learned something new.”
“Really? What was that?” I said with a laugh.
“That Leonardo da Vinci didn’t, in fact, invent the scissors, despite what you learned in history class.” He turned his head to one side, bringing his shoulder up with the rise of a very cheeky grin.
“Well, I feel smarter now for having learned that useless little fact.”
We wandered side by side through the house, David pointing out interesting facts from a firsthand experience of history, and as we came to an almost deserted section, we stopped. “This is why I brought you here.” He took my hand, shocking me a little; I hadn’t expected he’d ever touch me again after what I did with Mike.
“The World War One display?”
“Yes.” When the other visitors left the room, David looked over his shoulder, then spun around slowly—checking for more spectators, I assume. “You’ll love this,” he said, dragging me to the centre of a large, freestanding pin-board. “I first noticed this about ten years ago. Ever since, I almost feel like this place connects me to my old life.”
I stood before the collage of paper cut-outs and faded sepia images, mixed among black and whites, all thumbtacked carefully to the carpet wall. “You need to come here to feel connected?” I didn’t even know he needed to feel connected.
“I still have feelings, Ara. Nostalgia being one of them.” He looked away. “Sometimes.”
“Okay, so...what am I looking at here?”
He scrolled along the different images, then pointed to a group-shot of about ten men—standing together—some in uniform, some shirtless. “Look closer at this picture.”
Reluctantly, since I had no idea why I was looking closer, I leaned over a little and scanned the image, passing over a boy with a moustache, a boy holding a gun and a boy smoking, but stopped, stark-still, my blood running cold in the tops of my arms, when I saw the boy with dark hair, his easy smile and aura of confidence standing out among the few, emaciated men beside him. “This is yo—”
“Shh. It’s not something I like people to know.” He nodded to an old couple who’d slipped into the room, unnoticed by me.
“Sorry,” I said, my cheeks burning. “It’s a dumb thing to say, but...you look exactly the same.”
“Yeah, will you look at that?” A man, suddenly poking his head right between David’s and my shoulders, pointed to the picture we were gawking at. “Ancestor of yours, son?”
“Uh, yes, he was my great-grandfather,” David said, as though it was a fact he’d shared many times.
“Dead-ringer for the old codger, ehy?” the man said, clapping David on the shoulder.
David just winked at me, both of us smiling in our private moment of amusement. When the man and his wife walked away, I took a closer look at the picture—at my David, looking so dashing in his uniform. “Was anyone else like you? A—vampire?” I whispered the last word.
David looked at the image again, his lips pressed thin. “I wish it had been possible. I lost a lot of friends.”
“Did you fight in World War Two, as well?”
Without a word, he nodded, growing taller.
“You’re very brave,” I said.
“No—I’m not, Ara. I went in knowing I couldn’t die. But these guys—” he smiled, nodding at the photo, “—these guys put everything on the line to protect what they loved—to stand up for what they believed in. I was just there to eat the bad guys.”
I could tell from the way he was smiling that he meant that as a joke—a really bad, vampire-humour joke. “That’s not entirely true, David. You said your uncle changed you because you wanted to join the army. So, you can’t have been craving human blood then.”
A broad grin broke out across his lips, making his eyes sparkle. “Okay, you got me there. But I wasn’t afraid to die, because I wasn’t going to war, remember? I joined before war broke out.”
“Yes,” David said. “But what most people don’t know, is that he was also a pioneer of flight.”
My brow creased. “You’re making that up.”
He dropped his head and laughed. “No, I’m not, sweetheart. I wouldn’t do that. You see?” He pressed a fingertip to an image on the carpet-backed pin-board; two men sitting inside the open-aired cockpit of what looked like a toy plane. Wings of wood, longer than modern planes—stacked on top each other—with wheels that belonged on a bicycle. “That’s Harry Houdini,” he said.
“Wow. Hey, did you ever meet him?”
“You lived in Australia, did you ever meet The Crock Hunter?”
“No.”
“Exactly.” He shook his head, looking back at the image. “But, I know his story. I followed it in the papers. Harry—” he pointed to the man, “—was the first person ever to fly a powered aircraft in Australia.”
“Really? I should’ve known that.”
“It’s not really common knowledge.”
“So, what kind of plane is that?” I leaned closer. “I know what a Cessna and a bi-plane are, but that’s, like, wooden or something, isn’t it?”
“It sure is.” He smiled. “It was a French, Voisin bi-plane. He paid five thousand dollars for it, I believe. Here, it says, He shipped it over to Australia in nineteen-ten.” David rubbed his chin. “I think it was at Diggers Rest, near Melbourne, that he made the flight.”
I scrolled down the page of information and, sure enough, the words Diggers Rest stood out. Okay, I’m impressed.
David kind of skipped on his toe then; his hands behind his back as he walked away.
“Guess I was wrong,” I noted, catching up to him. “You did teach me something I didn’t know.”
“There’s so much to learn about the world, Ara.” He seemed to motion around the museum, or maybe the world, with a kind of fascination I’d never seen alive in him before. “I’ve had nearly two lifetimes, and I still have not seen even half of its wonders.”
“Yet you always seem to know everything.”
“No, mon amour. I don’t know everything. In fact, when I visited a museum last, I learned something new.”
“Really? What was that?” I said with a laugh.
“That Leonardo da Vinci didn’t, in fact, invent the scissors, despite what you learned in history class.” He turned his head to one side, bringing his shoulder up with the rise of a very cheeky grin.
“Well, I feel smarter now for having learned that useless little fact.”
We wandered side by side through the house, David pointing out interesting facts from a firsthand experience of history, and as we came to an almost deserted section, we stopped. “This is why I brought you here.” He took my hand, shocking me a little; I hadn’t expected he’d ever touch me again after what I did with Mike.
“The World War One display?”
“Yes.” When the other visitors left the room, David looked over his shoulder, then spun around slowly—checking for more spectators, I assume. “You’ll love this,” he said, dragging me to the centre of a large, freestanding pin-board. “I first noticed this about ten years ago. Ever since, I almost feel like this place connects me to my old life.”
I stood before the collage of paper cut-outs and faded sepia images, mixed among black and whites, all thumbtacked carefully to the carpet wall. “You need to come here to feel connected?” I didn’t even know he needed to feel connected.
“I still have feelings, Ara. Nostalgia being one of them.” He looked away. “Sometimes.”
“Okay, so...what am I looking at here?”
He scrolled along the different images, then pointed to a group-shot of about ten men—standing together—some in uniform, some shirtless. “Look closer at this picture.”
Reluctantly, since I had no idea why I was looking closer, I leaned over a little and scanned the image, passing over a boy with a moustache, a boy holding a gun and a boy smoking, but stopped, stark-still, my blood running cold in the tops of my arms, when I saw the boy with dark hair, his easy smile and aura of confidence standing out among the few, emaciated men beside him. “This is yo—”
“Shh. It’s not something I like people to know.” He nodded to an old couple who’d slipped into the room, unnoticed by me.
“Sorry,” I said, my cheeks burning. “It’s a dumb thing to say, but...you look exactly the same.”
“Yeah, will you look at that?” A man, suddenly poking his head right between David’s and my shoulders, pointed to the picture we were gawking at. “Ancestor of yours, son?”
“Uh, yes, he was my great-grandfather,” David said, as though it was a fact he’d shared many times.
“Dead-ringer for the old codger, ehy?” the man said, clapping David on the shoulder.
David just winked at me, both of us smiling in our private moment of amusement. When the man and his wife walked away, I took a closer look at the picture—at my David, looking so dashing in his uniform. “Was anyone else like you? A—vampire?” I whispered the last word.
David looked at the image again, his lips pressed thin. “I wish it had been possible. I lost a lot of friends.”
“Did you fight in World War Two, as well?”
Without a word, he nodded, growing taller.
“You’re very brave,” I said.
“No—I’m not, Ara. I went in knowing I couldn’t die. But these guys—” he smiled, nodding at the photo, “—these guys put everything on the line to protect what they loved—to stand up for what they believed in. I was just there to eat the bad guys.”
I could tell from the way he was smiling that he meant that as a joke—a really bad, vampire-humour joke. “That’s not entirely true, David. You said your uncle changed you because you wanted to join the army. So, you can’t have been craving human blood then.”
A broad grin broke out across his lips, making his eyes sparkle. “Okay, you got me there. But I wasn’t afraid to die, because I wasn’t going to war, remember? I joined before war broke out.”
