Waiting for the Moon

Ian smiled. She was surprisingly adept at understanding concepts and ideas, and she brought an exhilarat-ingly fresh viewpoint to the telling of any story. He'd read parts of the Bible to her, some Greek mythology, and several fairy tales by the Grimm brothers. The romantic poets were her favorites, and always she wanted more.

"There is the story of Pandora-this parallels in some ways the biblical tale of Adam and Eve. Pandora was the first human woman made by the gods. The story is that Jupiter made her to punish Prometheus for stealing fire from Heaven."

"The first woman was made to punish man?"

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He knew she would pick up on that. "She was made in Heaven. Every god contributed something to make her perfect. Then she was sent to earth, and Epimetheus accepted her-though he was warned to beware of Jupiter bearing gifts. Epimetheus had in his home a very special jar which held all the ills of the world-"

"He should have thrown this jar away."

Ian stifled a smile. "Pandora was curious." Ian looked at Selena. "Curious is what makes a woman follow the sound of a wild animal into the middle of the night. Anyway, Pandora snuck down one night and opened the jar, releasing all the evil into the world. She closed the lid quickly, but not quickly enough. Only hope was left inside."

Selena rolled onto her stomach and pressed up to her elbows, peering down at Ian with a frown. "She released all the evils onto the world and gave them no hope?"

"That

's the myth."

She thought about that for a moment. "And they say I am damaged in the brain. I do not like this story."

"The other interpretation is that Pandora was sent in good faith by Jupiter, carrying a box in which each god had placed a blessing. Thoughtlessly she opened the box and all the blessings escaped. All except hope."

She smiled. "This is sensible. Who would put hope-it is so precious-in a box full of evil?" She nodded. "Yes, Pandora was made to help man, not to punish him."

He reached up, smoothed a tangled lock of hair from her eyes. At the touch, so simple, so like something he'd done to a million women in his life, she smiled brightly.

Little things, a touch, a smile, they meant so much to her.

She plopped back on her back. "Tell me another story."

He reached blindly for a book, and finding one,

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pulled it onto his stomach. It was the story of Tristram and Isolde. For nearly an hour, he read to her, as the sun made its slow, elegant slide into the sea. He spun the tragic tale of a man trapped by honor into marrying the wrong woman, and of his wife-& good woman- consumed by jealousy for the other woman.

When he was finished, he turned slightly and saw that Selena was crying. Silvery tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and trailed down her pale temples.

"That is very sad," she said in a throaty voice. "Why would Tristram's wife lie to him?"

"She was jealous of Tristram's great love for Queen Isolde, and her jealousy cost Tristram his life. He died believing that his love had deserted him in his time of need."

"Why did Tristram not marry the woman he loved?"

"He was an honorable man, and honor demanded such a sacrifice."

Selena wiped the tears from her eyes and gazed up at Ian. Her hair hung in wavy strands along her damp cheeks. "This honorable. You have spoken of it before. I do not understand."

"It is more for men than women."

She frowned. "That is a bird."

He laughed.

"I have mistaken again. Sorry. I meant absurd. Is it important to be honorable?"

He felt a rush of bitterness at the naive question. "You are asking the wrong man, Selena. I have never been honorable in my life."