engagement stone 2

        Parked along the curb beneath the street lamp was a black Crown Vic. Artie recognized Bishop Carter's family chariot. And in the driveway behind the landlady's blue Toyota was that Relief Society lady's red Volvo.
He wheeled between them, cut his engine and kicked the stand down. There was Leah's old Schwinn.
       Upstairs, the apartment was ablaze with electric light and loud with excited voices.
       He took the stairs two at a time.
       Her door was ajar. Through the slit he could see the amber room. It was a scene from the Pentacost. Eyes glistened, wild talk, a sonic force. Rushing wind.
        "Leah!"
        "Artie, save me!"


                                                                                        *


        A tumult on the stairs. Artie carried Leah to the Indian. Through her nightgown her belly mashed warmly in
his embrace.  Artie cloaked her in his leather jacket, and they rocketed into the night. She glanced backward and saw the Mormon gang clotted in the driveway, looking on in resignation.
        "Where do we go now?" she shrieked in Artie's ear.
        "First stop, Uncle Nathan's place."
        She began to sob. Hugged him tightly, smelled the detergent in his flannel shirt.
         "I'm so sorry--"
         "Nonsense," he replied, gathering iron from somewhere. "We'll be fine."
         The Indian became a magical monster. Climbing toward heaven.