The Face

essential, when he had found it necessary to survive her loss.
        Between thumb and forefinger, he had tried to pinch mercy from the rosary beads. Now he smoothed the curvatures of bell, bell, and bell, seeking mercy less than understanding, seeking a revelation deaf to the ear but resonant in the heart.
        Although Ethan did not close his eyes and bring the darkness down, seeping shadows encroached from the periphery of vision, like ink spreading through the fibers of a blotter.
        Apparently the stethoscope captured rhythms that alarmed the paramedic. He loomed close, but his voice came from a distance, and though his face was a mask of calm professionalism, he spoke with an urgency that revealed the depth of his concern for his patient. “Ethan, don’t leave us here. Hang tight. Hold on, damn it.”
        Cinched by a knot of darkness, Ethan’s vision narrowed as the cords pulled tighter, tighter.
        He detected the astringent scent of rubbing alcohol. A coolness below the crook of his left arm preceded the sting of a needle.
        Within him, the knocking hooves of one-horse Death gave way to the thunder of an apocalyptic herd in chaotic gallop.
        The ambulance still rocketed toward Our Lady of Angels, but the driver gave the siren a rest, evidently trusting to the swiveling beacons on the roof.
        In the absence of the banshee shriek, Ethan thought he heard bells again.
        [174] These were not the worry-bead bells that in his hand he smoothed and smoothed, nor were they the strings of ornamental bells suspended from the red sparkling tinsel. These chimes arose at some distance, calling him with a silvery insistence.
        His vision irised to a dim spot of light, and then the mortal knot drew tighter still, blinding him completely. Accepting the inevitability of death and endless darkness, at last he closed his eyelids.
        He opened the door, then opened his eyes.
        In a growl of wind and a jingle of overhead bells, he stepped out of Forever Roses into the cold teeth of the December night, and drew the door shut behind him.
        In shock to find himself alive, in disbelief that he stood on legs unbroken, he waited in the entry alcove, between the display windows, as a young couple in raincoats and hoods strolled by on the sidewalk, led by a golden retriever on a leash.
        The dog looked up at Ethan, its eyes as wise as they were liquid and dark.
        “Good evening,” the couple said.
        Unable to speak, Ethan nodded.
        “Tink, let’s go,” the woman urged, and then repeated the command when the dog hesitated.
        The soaked retriever pranced away, snout lifted to savor the chilly air, followed by its companions.
        Ethan turned to peer at the florist who still stood behind the counter, past the glass coffins full of roses.
        Rowena had been staring after him. Now she quickly looked down as though attending to a task.
        On legs as shaky as his reason, Ethan retraced the route that he had taken to this place, under the sheltering awnings of shops and restaurants, toward the Expedition in the red zone.
        Ahead, Tink twice glanced back, but didn’t stop.
        Passing a restaurant bejeweled with candlelight and sparkling [175] tableware, breathing in the yeasty fragrance of freshly baked bread, Ethan thought, The staff of life.
        At the end of the block, the dog looked back once more. Then the trio disappeared around the corner.
        In the street, the traffic was lighter than usual at this hour, moving faster than the weather warranted.
        Arriving at the red zone near the end of the block, Ethan stood under the last awning-and thought that he might stand there, well and safely back from the street, until dawn reclaimed the city from the night.
        A long gap appeared in the approaching traffic.
        With his trembling right hand, he fished his keys from a jacket pocket and thumbed the lock-release button on the fob. The Expedition chirruped at him, but he didn’t approach it.
        Turning his attention toward the intersection, Ethan saw the headlights of the PT Cruiser as the vehicle approached at far too high a speed on the cross street.
        The Cruiser fishtailed in the intersection, and its wheels locked. In the spinout, the car rotated past the parked Expedition, mere inches from a collision.
        Had Ethan stood there, he would have been battered