A Song For All Seasons
By John Henry Carrozza
Winter was in the living room when the doorbell rang. He was just
straightening the books on the coffee table beneath the pinewood rafters of
the cathedral ceiling. Michelangelo's Frescoes should rest on top of The
Images of Frank Stella, he had decided, because it was smaller, when the
familiar sound of echoing chimes casually drifted into the room from the
foyer, where the brass cylinders hung - wriggling, as a jellyfish - beside the
door. He placed the books in a stately fashion on top of one another and
directed himself to the front door, as the now-distant ringing meandered
through the labyrinthine house and cautiously faded into hiding amidst a
wilderness of carved woodwork.
He saw the chariot of Summer through a window as he traversed the
room, and checked his collar when he reached the massive oaken bas-relief
which was the front door.
"Why Summer," he said when the evening air slapped his face and
caressed his hair, "you're early this year."
Yes, I know," replied a man with a bottle of champagne in his hand. I'm
late every year, so I thought I'd break with tradition and come early for
once."
"Just so you don’t stay all night."
"Oh no,” Summer was quick to reply, then smiling. "I'll leave that to
Autumn.”
“Now, now," Winter cautioned, taking the bottle from the Summer's
extended hand. "Let's not go carrying on rumors. You know how the winds
tend to blow this time of year."
“Yes, and your lawn is waving."
Suddenly, Winter became aware of another guest as Summer was
stepping inside. She had been standing quietly behind Summer, at the edge
of the landing, leaning against the rail.
"Spring? I didn't see you there! Did you come with Summer?"
"Why yes, of course I did," she said, as if it were a well-known fact, and
she carried herself to the doorway, lifting her green sequined dress above
her feet as she crossed the threshold. She smiled, half-laughingly, half-
embarrassingly, as she passed by.
"Summer, you old dog!” Winter called out to his guest, who was now in
the living room, eyeing the Stella book on the coffee table.
Summer looked up through a corbeled archway, smiling as Spring spun
to face Winter, who was pushing the front door closed behind him.
“Now, now..." she said and then wandered into the great vaulted room,
followed by Winter, who was shaking his head and grinning at Summer.
"Where can I put my coat?" asked Spring, sliding the fur from her pale
soft shoulders.
"Oh, of course," said Winter, as he approached her to take the sable coat.
"I'm sorry I'll put them in the hall closet." He took Spring's coat and
Summer's scarf and jacket and hung them where he said he would, and just
as he was coming back into the room, Autumn entered from the kitchen
with a plate of crackers and dip.
“Hors d'oevres, anyone?" she offered politely.
Spring looked at Summer, and Summer looked at Winter, returning the
grin, then turned back to the hostess.
"Autumn.” he began. "I didn't see your car out front."
"It's in the garage,” she replied, as she carried the tray to a buffet along
the wall to her left.
Summer shifted his gaze back to Winter, who could not help cracking a
smile.
"Autumn arrived this afternoon," he explained. "I let her park her car in
the garage so it wouldn't get rained on."
"But it didn't rain this afternoon, Summer pointed out.
"We thought it might," said Winter; and then, walking towards the bar:
"What can I get you to drink?"
"Scotch and soda," was Summer's request.
"I'll just have a glass of water,” came the voice of Spring, who was
sitting in a chair beside the fireplace, wherein a yule log spat cinders at
random into the charred hearth.
Autumn set down the refreshments and turned to find Summer eyeing
her inquisitively. She responded by raising her eyebrows and walking over
to help Winter at the bar. Summer reclined upon the herringbone sofa and
lifted a book from the coffee table. "When did you become interested in
Frank Stella?" he asked.
"Oh, I saw an exhibit of his work in Chicago a few months ago,” Winter
said, as he poured himself a glass of bourbon. "I never knew his work was
so big.
Summer laughed. "That it is."
"I mean, one piece,” Winter sipped at his drink. "One piece was two
stories high. I've been thinking of getting a painting of his to put in here."
"In this room, with all this eighteenth-century furniture?"
"Sure. Oh, not one of those new three-dimensional collages with all the
bright colors. I mean something simple from his early years. Like, just a big
black square or something."
"Boy, that'd liven the place up," interjected Spring, who was now
sunken, legs crossed, into the warm leather armchair across the room.
"Well, it was just an idea," Winter offered in defense.
Autumn handed Summer his drink and was carrying a glass of water to
Spring when she said "I thought it was a good idea.” She tried handing the
glass to Spring, who was sunken too deep in the chair to take it, so she
placed on the Corinthian pedestal beside her instead.
"Last year you said you were going to get a Van Gogh," reminded
Summer.
“Yeah, well that was just a phase,” Winter replied, with a not-so-sly
wink.
Winter took a long sip of bourbon and meandered over to the cracker
tray. "I hear you took up golf."
"Yeah, that's right," Summer confessed. "Where did you hear that?"
"Vesper told me."
"Vesper? How would she know?"
"She's been sleeping with one of your foursome." Winter smiled and
masticated a mouthful of cheese dip and wheat.
Spring gasped and sat up straight, interested in the conversation at last.
"Who? God, what a slut!"
"Well, after all, Spring," said Autumn graciously. "She is the Goddess of
Love. She has a reputation to uphold.
Spring and Winter both laughed while Summer remained in thought.
"Well, it couldn't be Hermes,” he was saying. “He's a raving queen. Osiris
isn't her type. It must be Dr. Lewis" and Winter raised his eyebrows as an
affirmative "maybe."
Spring slapped the arm of her chair. "She always did have a thing for
mortals," she declared, and then sunk back into the depths of the recliner.
“You shouldn't speak so verdantly, Spring," cautioned Winter.
Spring gaped, taken aback, and looked to Autumn for support.
Autumn merely smiled. "You are wearing green.
"Spring huffed and crossed her arms. "Are you saying I'm not ripe?
Venus is the immature one."
"You're in full bloom, my dear," said Summer. "But you know you
always have been jealous of your sister."
"Well why not? She's always gotten everything she's ever wanted."
"You mean everything you always wanted?"
Summer and Spring sat, eyes transfixed for several seconds before
Summer finally looked down to find his drink. As if sensing a cue, Spring
reached for her glass as well, but could not reach it, and so sighed instead,
and Winter chose this moment to break the silence.
"Let me show you what I've done with the backyard, Summer. You're
gonna love it."
"Sure,” Summer agreed, standing.
Winter looked to the limp figure which hung in a chair across the room
and motioned with his glass for her to follow.
“No thanks," she replied. "I'll stay here and talk with Autumn."
Autumn gazed at the ceiling and smiled wearily.
When the two men had left, Spring spoke out suddenly. "I'm not jealous
of Venus."
"I never said you were,” Autumn defended.
"Oh, I know you all think it. It's just that …” Spring uncrossed and
crossed her legs. "She's so beautiful and well … "
“And so are you," Autumn finished. "You favor her very much. I guess
beauty just runs in your family."
"And yours."
"Oh, come now Spring. Don't tell me you're jealous of me, too."
"Well, I have a right to be jealous of whomever I wish. And why not?
You're just as beautiful as Venus and more elegant ... and certainly more
intelligent."
“But you're intelligent, too."
"And what about Winter?"
"What about him?"
“There's no point in pretending any longer, Autumn. Everyone knows
about you two. You go places together. People see you, and they talk ... but
I've seen the way you look at each other."
"Spring! You're jealous because of Winter?"
"So you admit you're more than just friends?"
“What difference does it make? You don't have an eye for him, do you?"
"I never said that.” Spring stood and carried her water across the bar and
dumped it in the sink.
"Well, even if there is something between Winter and me,” Autumn
continued. “You needn't be jealous. What about Summer? You came here
with him, didn't you?"
Spring uncapped a bottle of brandy as she replied. There's nothing
between Summer and me. He just offered me a ride here, that's all.” She
poured over ice to fill half of her glass and re-corked the bottle.
"When did you start drinking?" asked Autumn suddenly.
“Tonight,” Spring answered, as she took a long swig of her poison. She
shook her head and took a deep breath afterwards.
"Summer is a wonderful match for you, Spring. He's handsome and
fun... Venus would envy you. And I'm sure he likes you. In fact I know it -
I've heard him say so."
"When?"
“Here ... last year."
"Are you sure?"
“Yes. And you like him, too, n'est pas?"
“Of course I do, but …"
“I want you to tell him tonight. This is the perfect chance."
Spring lifted her glass, contemplated taking another sip, and then
stopped. "Okay, Autumn. I will tonight.” She put the drink to her lips and
took another swallow. "Autumn," she said after a moment of silence. "Tell
me the truth. Did you really arrive here this afternoon?"
“No."
“When?"
“Thanksgiving afternoon."
Spring smiled and took another sip of brandy, feeling she was acquiring
a taste for it, and Autumn found herself smiling as well.
The clover-filled lawn rolled carpet-like away from the back of the
house, past a cobblestone patio and wrought iron furniture, and tucked itself
neatly beneath a rolling stream some seventy yards away. Beyond the water,
a garden of pine trees sprung up like weeds and cast themselves into the
distant waning light to the west, and where the river turned west as well, the
trees had leapt the chasm and were marching their way towards the top of
the hill. Along the back wall of the house stood a parade of topiary
creatures - toad-like, bird-like, imp-like - all beasts of mythical origin. They
stood poised and ready against the wall or crouched beneath the windows,
trying not to be seen. A cobblestone path led from the patio on one side of
the lawn to a rose garden on the other. The bushes were cut back for the
season, but four rose trees stood tall above the shivering thorns - barren, but
proud nonetheless. A bird bath marked the end of the garden and the start of
a trail leading to a grotto ("It's a place of magic and beauty,” Winter had
assured Summer as they passed by the trail). The forest encroached on all
sides and met the grassy expanse at a tepid stream. The lord and his guest
stood by a footbridge, which Winter had built, and who pointed out a
rowboat docked beside it. “There's a small lake around that second bend."
He motioned through the trees to a hill beyond which the lake hid itself
from view. "There was an erosion problem, so I dug the bed myself. It
would normally be frozen this time of year, but I thought I would keep
things warmer this week ... for tonight especially.”
"Why tonight?"
"Well, you know. It's New Year's Eve ... you guys are here.”
"It's Autumn, isn't it?"
“What do you mean?"
"Last year you two disappeared for a while after dinner. I have a sneaky
suspicion you might do the same thing tonight."
“You're certainly adamant about her and me, aren't you?"
"Well it's true, isn't it?"
"Why does it matter?"
"I don't understand why you're trying to keep this thing a secret. I mean,
everybody suspects that you two have something going. Hell, you ought to
be proud of it. I mean, Autumn … she's …”
“Look, Summer, you know how people are - and gods especially. As
soon as our relationship becomes common knowledge, they're gonna move
in on her and me and I don't want any competition. I love Autumn, and she
loves me and we don't need any distractions. So don't tell anybody about
this. In fact dispel what rumors you can. They'll believe you."
There was a long pause, during which only the brook spoke, singing the
song that it sings for all seasons, without beginning or end, with more
meaning than any mind could fathom and more feeling than any soul could
muster … a random, happy, mournful tune - the backbeat of a chaotic
world, and Winter found himself humming along with it.
Finally, Summer broke the spell. "What do you think about Spring?"
Winter stopped humming and looked up from the water. "Hmm?"
"Spring. What do you think of her?"
"What do I think of her you mean, for you?"
"Well, yeah."
Winter grinned and prodded Summer's shoulder. "Ha ha!" He laughed.
"Why you devil! You really do like her, don't you?"
Summer shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped onto the bridge.
“Yeah, I do. I really do."
"Well, have you said anything to her about it?"
“No."
“Well, why don't you? Invite her out for dinner or dancing. She'd love to,
I'm sure."
"I don't know."
“Christ, Summer. You see how insecure she is … the way she acted in
there about Vesper. Hasn't Vesper approached you before … propositioned
you, I mean?"
“On several occasions, but …”
"And you turned her down, right?"
“Yes, of course, but I …"
“So, don't you see how proud Spring would feel if you asked her out?
Then Vesper would be jealous of her for a change."
"I would like to see the tables turned like that.” Summer gripped the
white picket railing and looked downstream. "But do you think she really
would? I mean, do you think she really likes me?"
"Of course she does. Anyone could see that."
"Anyone except a fool in love."
“My, this is serious.” Winter gaited onto the bridge and placed his hand
on Summer's shoulder. "After dinner," he said. "Autumn and I will let you
two alone.”
Summer looked at him, and Winter raised an eyebrow. A snapping twig
caught the pair's attention, and they looked across the stream to see a bright
orange bird fluttering away through the trees.
"What kind of bird was that?" Asked Summer. "I've never seen such
bright plumage this time of year."
Winter closed his eyes and put his hand to his head. “That was no bird,"
he said, then looking down at the running water beneath their feet. “That
was Cybele."
"Cybele? But I thought she had given up that nonsense years ago."
"Spying, yes. But the rumors about Autumn and me must have sparked
her interest."
“And you just confessed they weren't just rumors."
“Damn that woman!” Winter stormed off the bridge and onto the grass,
causing a frost to form around his feet. "She's made my life impossible for
two hundred years now. Why doesn't she leave me alone?"
“Maybe because she still loves you,” offered Summer, following his
friend up the lawn.
“No! If she loved me, she wouldn't make me miserable like this. She's
just jealous is all. Why can't she get it through her head that I don't love
her? Hell, Summer I don't know why I ever married her in the first place."
“Oh come on, Winter! You were crazy about her. I remember. And you
spent five happy centuries together. I guess she's just having a harder time
of letting go than you did."
They stopped in the center of the yard and Winter conjectured as he
spoke, as if he were casting a spell. "You want to know what's so crazy
about all this,” he cried. "And I never told anyone this, but she's the one
who wanted the divorce, not me."
Summer stared at him blankly.
"Oh, I agreed soon enough, alright. After she accused me of sleeping
with every goddess and mortal on or above the planet. You know I was
faithful to her. I had to be. I was in love with her. I didn't want anybody
else. But once she got it in her head I was fooling around she just flipped
out. I thought she was mad. I still do. It took me a long time to get over it,
but I adjusted eventually. I mean, my life was unbearable with her. I had no
choice, really I couldn't reason with her. But you know what's the craziest
thing of all - is that sometimes now, I still actually miss her. Not too often
now that I have Autumn to take my mind off her … and I do love Autumn,
don't get me wrong … but I don't know. There's some part of her that I just
can't be free of.”
Winter's words drifted off as he looked at the sky, watching the cirrus
nimbus clouds forming at random, miles overhead.
Summer was quiet for a time, gazing at the silently waving grass around
his feet. Finally he looked up, and Winter's eyes met his. “Did you ever find
out why she thought you were unfaithful?" Summer asked cautiously.
“No. I haven't a clue,” Winter answered as he glanced back at the forest
where Cybele had been; and then he looked towards the house, which was
reflecting an eerie glow from the sinking ember of the sun. "I think we'd
better start dinner. I'm getting hungry."
“Yeah, agreed Summer "So am I."
The long shadows of the pair slithered as they traversed the yard, gaining
quietly upon the stately house and its beastly parade, and as they passed the
topiary along the wall they both felt as if they were being watched.
Autumn laughed.
“No, really,” Winter explained. "I saw it on television last week."
"A remote control toothbrush?" asked Summer, looking up from his
plate.
“Yeah, it's great. You can brush your teeth from across the room."
"Well that's great if you have false teeth I suppose,” Autumn interjected,
still laughing.
Spring: "Or for mothers who want to be certain their kids are brushing
before bedtime."
Summer: “That's it. What will those crazy mortals think up next?"
Autumn: “Probably a car that drives itself and buys the groceries."
Winter: "It's amazing how much effort humans are willing to go through
to make life effortless."
Summer: "Pretty soon, people won't even have to get out of bed in the
morning. They'll be able to do everything with the push of a button."
Spring: "It's like they're trying to make gods of themselves."
Silence shrouded the room like a blanket, as three intense faces turned to
meet Spring.
Spring moved uneasily in her chair and then smiled. "Oh don't worry,"
she assured. "At least they can't live forever."
"Not yet,” said Winter, as he drained the puddle from the base of his
wine glass.
Autumn stood silently and began clearing the table. Winter followed her
cue, and the two guests eloped to the living room. When they were alone in
the kitchen, Autumn was the first to speak."I think Spring and Summer
make a nice couple, don't you?" she whispered.
“Yeah, sure,” Winter agreed half-heartedly.
"Winter, what's wrong with you? Ever since you came back from the
garden with Summer, you've been awfully tense. Did he say something or
…” Her voice trailed off as she began loading the dishwasher.
Winter leaned his hands against the counter and stared through a frozen
window.
“And now it's starting to snow outside," Autumn continued. “Your mind
is obviously someplace else tonight." She slid the remaining dish into the
plastic frame and moved to where Winter stood. "What's bothering you?"
she asked, placing her damp hand upon his arm.
He turned his head to face her. "It's Cybele," he said.
Autumn looked down at his hands, which were clamped nervously to the
countertop, and let her eyes stay there, fixed upon the pulsing veins above
his fingers.
"She was here tonight," he continued. "Out there in the garden. I didn't
see her until she flew away."
Autumn looked up suddenly. “You mean she was disguised as a bird?"
she asked eagerly.
“Yes."
“Well then, how do you know it was her?"
"It was her," he said quietly, annunciating each word with precision.
"What do you suppose she wanted?" Autumn asked, releasing his arm
and moving about him like a satellite.
“She was spying, Autumn," he answered, turning away from the window
to follow her movement. "She wanted to find out if what people are saying
about us is true."
"And?" Autumn prodded, pacing.
"I confessed to Summer... and I think she was listening."
Autumn stopped and crossed her arms. "That bitch," she said gruffly.
"What business is it of hers what you do now? Even if you were sleeping all
over the planet, how can she hold a grudge for so long? She's the one who
wanted the divorce and now she won't leave us alone!"
"Well, I was never unfaithful to Cybele! You must believe me. I don't
know where she ever got the idea that I ...” His voice trailed off suddenly,
and then he began again. “How do you know about all that? I never told
you. I never told anyone. No one knows but Cybele and I. We agreed that I
would take the blame for the divorce."
Autumn turned away.
"What do you mean, ‘us'?" Winter continued. "She hasn't been bothering
you, has she? And where did you hear about what happened? I told you
myself that it was I who filed for divorce."
"I don't know,” Autumn said sharply. "I don't know where I got it from. I
just made it up I guess. I …”
Autumn turned around and tears were beading in her eyes. "I'm sorry,"
she said. "It's just that …” She wandered to the island in the center of the
kitchen and leaned against it. “We love each other, Winter. And I don't want
anything to get in the way of our happiness. Cybele is an evil, jealous
immortal. And it makes me furious the way she torments you so. If she had
any respect at all, she'd leave you alone"
Winter walked slowly to Autumn's side.
"Well, she's obviously not the only one who's jealous around here," he
said, and Autumn's eyes rose to meet his.
"I know," Autumn said, her gaze returning to her feet. "I'm sorry"
Winter extended a hand to Autumn's shoulder, then took her carefully in
his arms and they held each other motionless for an eternal moment.
“Come on,” Autumn said at last, wiping tears from her eyes. "Let's go
for a boat ride."
The snow had stopped falling, and the yard was left with an icy covering
which more closely resembled a doily than a blanket. Across the wintry
scape moved two figures, hand in hand, silhouetted by a dim moonlight
filtering down through fleeting clouds, and by the pale cast of incandescent
light, which sprayed out of the house behind them like the flickering glow
of a jack-o-lantern.
When they reached the babbling stream and approached the bridge,
Winter saw in the place where the rowboat usually slept a lonely rope
holding hands with the water.
"What the?" he questioned to no one in particular. "What is it?" came
Autumn's voice from behind him.
“The boat is gone,” replied Winter, looking about.
Autumn caught his shoulder and motioned to edge of the water. Two
pairs of shoes lay strewn along the bank one of a man's tan dress style, the
other a pair of elegant green high-heels.
"It seems," noted Autumn, "that Spring and Summer are getting along
just fine."
Winter grinned. "Yeah," he chuckled. "Just fine indeed."
Autumn wandered onto the tiny bridge, whose cold wooden planks
glistened in the shadowy moonlight. She leaned back on the railing and
waited, as if for a train which was already late.
Finally, Winter, who had been gazing downstream and wincing
knowingly, turned to face a grinning Autumn.
The pale light filtered down through the tangled arms of leafless poplars
and wizened oaks, casting eerie shadows across the rippling water which
wavered beneath the figure of Autumn as she unbuttoned her blouse.
The pair lay on the frozen ground beside the river in silence for quite
some time, holding each other close for warmth, listening to the sound of
flowing water, before Winter whispered, "I must be in heaven."
Autumn laughed softly. "You've been hanging around those mortals too
long, my dear."
To think that this never has to end," said Winter proudly. "We can be
together for eternity here, or anywhere."
Yes, Autumn sighed. "Just the two of us, forever.”
Their lips embraced as the sound of snapping twigs caught their
attention. Quickly, Autumn stood up and retrieved her blouse and skirt,
pulling them on in the shadow of an ancient maple tree, as Winter pulled on
his trousers and fumbled around for his shirt. He was reaching for his socks
when he heard footsteps on the bridge. Looking up, he found the dark figure
of a woman treading slowly above the flowing stream, in and out of the
wintery light. Finally she stopped at the foot of the bridge some yards away
from Winter, and the Man in the Moon gazed upon her face through a hole
in the canopy.
"Cybele!" Winter cried "What are you doing here?"
The woman stepped closer, moving elegantly over the frost. "Oh," she
said, her voice calm and even. “Just taking a little walk." She carried herself
to within an arm's reach of Winter and paused. “Nice evening for a stroll,
wouldn't you say?"
"I might,” Winter replied.
Cybele continued walking then, past Winter, and stopped at the edge of a
shadowy glade a few feet from the water's edge.
"Why, Autumn," she said happily. How nice to see you. You must be out
for a stroll, too."
Autumn's eyes glowed beneath the tree, but she remained silent "Oh,”
Cybele said, noticing Autumn's feet. "But I see that you have forgotten your
shoes. Your feet must be frigid.” She glanced back at Winter. "Or are they?"
"What the hell do you want?" Winter asked abruptly.
Cybele laughed. "Winter, darling, I believe the proper question is what
does she want?" She pointed to the figure of Autumn, who stood frozen in
the shadows.
"I beg your pardon," Winter began. "But what exactly are you talking
about?"
Cybele grinned and spun her body around to face Winter directly and
moved closer to him. "I've done some investigating, love," she said. "And
I've come to some interesting conclusions."
Winter squinted questioningly as Cybele spoke.
"It seems I was wrong about you, my dear," she continued coyly. "I
accused you falsely and I do hope you'll forgive me." She slinked to
Winter's side, batting her eyes. "You see," she began, and then suddenly
smiled, her voice gaining austerity. "It was Autumn who informed me that
you were having an affair, and I believed her.” She laughed.
Winter looked to Autumn, who remained frozen. He sensed that the
shadows around her were moving, but assumed it to be the wind blowing
the trees and looked back to Cybele. "That's a lie!" he torted.
"Is it? Well then why don't you ask her?"
Winter suddenly remembered the conversation in the kitchen and turned
once more to Autumn. As he did, the shadows began swirling, and Autumn
leapt forward, startled, and spun about as a circular wall of snake-like vines
erupted all around her, swirling and weaving about one another with
lightning speed, encaging her in an organic tracery as Winter rushed
towards her.
Too late, she darted to reach him, finding only a wall of fleshy
latticework, a web through which she could see Winter approaching with
the gait of a wounded soldier and Cybele laughing in the distance.
Winter reached the woven cage and pressed face to it like a prisoner, his
gaze meeting Autumn's eyes, which were full of fear and sorrow. He spun
around and confronted Cybele. "What have you done to her?" he screamed.
Cybele walked slowly, calmly towards the pair as Winter stared in
disbelief. “Not to worry, darling," she said casually. "Our dear Autumn is
merely trapped within a cage of truth. All she need do is answer my
questions correctly and the vines will just wither away."
Winter blinked as if trying to dispel a dream. He looked back to Autumn,
pleading with his eyes.
"I love you," Autumn said.
Cybele cocked her head like a spaniel. "How sweet," she said. "My dear
Winter, you have an admirer."
Winter grasped the vines, which were as thick as prison bars, and as
cold, and pulled with all his strength. The flora stood its ground. Realizing
he had no other alternative, he leered at Cybele and then turned away to the
forest. "Alright, damn it!" He breathed heavily. "Ask her."
Autumn gasped and then looked to Cybele with the eyes of a beggar.
Cybele grinned. "Listen carefully, my dear," she began. "And don't buzz
in until I have finished the question." She clasped her hands behind her
back and paced like a prosecuting attorney. "Did you come to me one
evening two centuries ago and tell me that my husband, Winter, was having
an affair?"
Autumn bit her lip and looked above her. The reticulum enveloped her in
shadow and illuminated the cumulating clouds like the pages of a holy
book.
She looked at Winter, who had turned away, and then back at Cybele.
“Yes," she confessed, and lowered her eyes.
Winter spun around. "Autumn?" he queried. "It's true?"
"And with whom did you inform me that he was having an affair?"
Cybele prodded .
Autumn looked into Winter's eyes, which seemed hazy through her
swelling tears. "Me," she said, without breaking that gaze.
Winter had to look away. He looked to Cybele. He looked to the house.
He looked to the sky. Finally, his eyes returned to Autumn. "Why?" he
asked
“Because I love you," she cried. "I did then, and I do now, and I always
will. I wanted to be with you so badly, but you were in love with her. And I
just couldn't stand it. I … I …” She met his gaze once more. " I'm sorry,
Winter. I'm really, truly sorry."
Cybele was smiling widely when Winter looked at her.
"But Winter,” Autumn continued. "Oh, Winter does that matter so much
now? Does it matter what I did then, after all this time?"
Time? Winter thought.
“You love me now, don't you?" Autumn pressed. "Not her. Don't you?
Don't you, Winter?”
Snowflakes began drifting down through the bracken as Winter laughed.
"Listen to you two, would you? You're so jealous of each other … you're
worse than Spring and Vesper. If I didn't know better I would think you
were sisters."
The two women looked at each other suddenly and then regarded their
feet in unison.
Winter's face turned solemn as his eyes wandered between the pair. He
did find a striking resemblance all of a sudden. "No," he laughed. "You can't
be."
Autumn looked up and nodded faintly.
"Sisters? But I never knew.”
“Nobody knew,” Cybele said
Winter laughed and ambled towards the god-hewn bridge as the snowfall
grew heavy. Behind him, the vines which held Autumn in check shriveled
quietly apart and withered to the ground and soon were shrouded by
crystals of fluffy ice.
He stood on the bridge and gazed downstream as the rowboat rounded a
bend and made its way slowly ashore.
Summer guided the boat carefully to the bridge and tied the rope snuggly
before helping Spring over the side. He looked at Winter, who was still
laughing, and then saw the two women standing quietly inland, arms
crossed and facing in opposite directions.
Spring and Summer eyed each other quizzically as they gathered their
shoes from the pebbled bank.
Summer approached Winter cautiously on the bridge. He caught his gaze
and raised a querying eyebrow.
Winter answered the unspoken question as he continued to laugh. “You
wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I'll take your word for it,” Summer assured him, glancing back at the
tiffing women.
"Come on,” Spring called to Summer. "It's almost midnight. You don't
want to miss the apple do you?"
"Of course not,” Summer replied. He hopped off the bridge and took
Spring's hand. They began towards the ever-watchful house beneath an
even snowfall, followed by Winter, who was still laughing.
"Where are you going?" Autumn questioned as he passed.
"It's almost midnight," he told her. "You don't want to miss the apple do
you?"
"Hmmph!" Autumn grunted, and then as the trio grew small in the
distance: “This is all your fault Cybele!"
“My fault?" the accused protested. "He was mine first, fair and square.
And you had to deceive me to take him away. How can you say you love
him? You're just jealous is all."
"Well, neither of us has him now. I hope you're happy."
Their voices bantered and their breath became frozen in the wintery air
as a heavy white downpour shrouded them from their surroundings, with
only their heated argument to keep them warm, as the last seconds of the
year drained slowly away and the stream behind them reached yet another
chorus in its hypnotic song.
