Dreadful Sorry (31 page)

As he and Miss Wilkins moved into the kitchen. Molly lingered in the hall, puzzled, gazing into an ornate mirror on the wall. The back of her neck prickled again.

Can't be a mind reader with people like him.

Her reflection flickered.

People like him. Like this man who thinks he's a little boy, who is trying to find his special cousin. People like him, who are lost in the past.

Quickly she closed her eyes and tried to get back into Clementine's head, into her memory. Where had she taken the children? They played up in the playroom. And there was a carriage house. But that had burned one summer. They played out on the headland, too. Hide-and-seek between the bed sheets Janie hung out on the wash line. Sometimes they went into the secret cave—

The secret cave.

But no one would go there now. It was too dangerous now that the shelf had crumbled over the years.

People like him.

Her heart started thumping as fast as the raindrops were pelting the windows. She tried to banish the thought. He'd
never
make it into the little cave now. He would have fallen over the cliff into the churning water of the cove.

The humming was in her ears again.
Lost and gone forever—!
"

Jared came out of the kitchen looking for her. "Hey, what is it?"

She was staring into the mirror, and she didn't look quite like herself. Her cheeks were splotched red and her eyes were black pools. Surely her hair Was darker.

"Come with me," she murmured.

"Where?"

As she raced out the back door, her flashlight gripped tightly, he followed. Grace Wilkins took time to grab her umbrella before following. Jared scanned the grassy headland as they tore through the grass. "Oh no, you're not thinking..."

She
was
thinking. She only wished she had thought of it sooner.

She knelt carefully at the edge of the cliff, Jared next to her. Holding her breath, she shone her flashlight through the rain, down to where the rock shelf had been. With a groan of defeat she illuminated what was there on the narrow ledge six feet below: one black corduroy bedroom slipper.

"Oh my God," breathed Jared. Then he started shouting: "Abner! Abner Holloway, are you there?" over and over again.

The wind whipped his voice out into the cove Molly joined him, lying on her stomach in the grass, her hands gripping the rocky edge of the cliff. "Mr. Holloway!" she screamed. "Abner!"

Miss Wilkins caught up to them, panting. She stood gripping her umbrella, her expression unreadable in the( darkness. Then she moved forward and called out hoarsely: "I've had it with you, Abner Holloway. Get a grip on yourself, man!"

They were rewarded with a thin wail, and Molly, leaning over the edge, saw Abner's gray head poke out of the cave. When the wind dropped, they heard his feeble cry: "I can't climb up."

"Of course you can't, you old sea dog," shouted Miss Wilkins. "You must have been out of your head even to try to go down in the first place."

"Grace," he said, tipping his face, white in the beam of Molly's flashlight trained on him. "What are you doing out in this weather?"

"Having a lovely picnic, what do you think!" Miss Wilkins stepped indignantly away from the edge. "I'd better go back to the house and call the police. They can send someone to fetch him up."

"Hang on. I think I can get down there and boost him up," said Jared.

"Don't be crazy, Jared." Molly stared past the ledge, down into the roiling cove. "Look at that water. Let's get the police."

The old man, his thin body half inside the cave, half out, was resting his head on the rock ledge as if it were a pillow. "She found you," he moaned. "Clementine told me she'd get help, and now you've come..."—the waves crashed against the rocks below, drowning out the rest of his words—"...so cold."

The rain had stopped, at least for the moment. Jared shook his dark, wet hair back and called down to Abner: "Hang on there, Mr. Holloway. I'm coming down."

"Don't," said Molly, putting a hand on his arm to restrain him.

"He's out of his head," said Jared. "I've got to try to get him." He inched backward over the cliff. Below him foam broke over sharp peaks as the surf pounded the rocks.

"Be careful!" Molly held her breath until Jared's feet safely touched the ledge six feet below.

Holding carefully on to the tufted grass in the rock, he knelt to peer inside the cave. Then he looked up at Molly. "Ready?"

She nodded, her mouth dry. Next to her, Grace Wilkins was holding her hands over her eyes, muttering, "I can't watch. I can't watch. Idiotic old sea dog."

Slowly, slowly, Jared helped Abner to his feet on the narrow ledge. Molly was afraid the shaking of the old man's limbs would be enough to knock both of them off into the rocky cove below, but Jared lifted him easily so Molly could reach over and grasp his hands. She dug her feet into the wet ground to brace herself as she pulled. Abner's grip was weak, and she tightened her fingers around his, pulling him up the cliff as Jared boosted him from below. The rain began to fall again in a steady drizzle. Abner scrambled for footholds on the slippery rock. Finally he lay at the top next to Molly on the grass.

She left him for Grace Wilkins to tend and leaned back over the edge where Jared still waited on the narrow rock shelf. Years ago when the ledge had been several feet wider, there was room for small-boned Clementine and little Abner to stand safely enough until they crawled into the secret cave. But now the ledge was crumbled and slick from the rain and waves, and Jared looked too big to be there. "Now you," she called down to him. "Get back up here." The rain began falling again in a fine drizzle.

"Wait a sec," he called up, tipping his face into her flashlight's beam. "There's something else coming up." He bent down and reached into the cave, then pulled out a large round box.

"The ... hatbox?" Molly whispered.

"The hatbox!" Jared echoed, shouting up to her, "I can't believe it." He stood up carefully. "Can you catch this?"

He swung the big box back over his shoulder by the string it was tied with and hurled it upward as high as he could. It sailed through the rain over Molly's head and landed near Abner's feet where he lay on the grass, eyes closed, sheltered by Grace Wilkins's umbrella. The sea crashed against the rocks below.

The force of the throw had unbalanced Jared. "Oh, be careful," whispered Molly as he steadied himself shakily by leaning back against the rock wall and pressing his hands flat on its surface. Then he grasped a handful of grass and started to pull himself up. But the plant pulled away from the rock in a shower of dirt and stone, and Jared slipped back down and landed half on the ledge, half off. He balanced precariously on the shelf, flat on his stomach with his legs dangling over the cliff.

Molly couldn't scream. She felt as if any little sound, any movement, anything at all might send him right over the edge.

"Heavens above!" shrieked Miss Wilkins.

"Molly, help me!" Jared's voice was as wispy as the dark clouds that parted now overhead, as thin as the sliver of moon.

Molly could hear the roar of the water in the cove and felt the rain pelt her head. Water, everywhere. She looked down at Jared. The flashlight wavered in her hands, Jared's upturned face white in its light. He shifted his body on the ledge, legs still swinging over the shelf, trying desperately to get a purchase with his knees. But the rock shelf was too narrow. He dangled there like a rag doll.

She
couldn't
go down there. There was water down there. She would fall into the cove and drown—they both would. Her body broke out in a sweat despite the cold night, and she drew back from the cliff's edge. She couldn't do it. She knew, she just
knew,
she would slip and fall on top of him, and they would both plunge down the rocks, dying together in the cove—again.

Molly peered down at him, her head throbbing with the crash of the waves. Jared's torso balanced on the shelf was all that kept him from death. He couldn't last long, she knew, hanging that way. In a minute or two his strong swimmer's arms would tire and he would have to let go. There was nothing she could do. Sickened, she looked away. She saw Grace Wilkins running back to the house for help. But help wouldn't come in time for Jared.

The roar of the surf seemed to call her name. And then she heard a moan behind her and turned her head. Abner was sitting up, trembling with cold. His eyes were open and wild, but his voice was encouraging. "You can do it," he said. "You can do it, Clementine."

For an instant Molly didn't know who she was anymore. If Abner belonged to both the past and the present, then she did, too. And with that thought, it all seemed so simple. Hob had died, but Jared was still alive. She must do what she could to make sure he stayed that way. It was the least she could do.

Hardly stopping to think, she climbed backward down the side of the steep, slippery rock. She felt for toeholds in the crevices and held tightly to the clumps of grass, praying the dirt would not give way. It seemed an age before her feet touched the ledge. She did not dare look over the side, down to the cove.

"That's it," panted Jared. "Just another step and you're here."

She crouched low, back pressed against the rock wall for support, and reached for Jared. Her fingers closed on his sweatshirt, and he cried out with relief, but she knew they were far from safe. If he tried to climb up onto the ledge now, he would pull her right over the side with him. She had nothing to brace herself with. "Wait," she gasped. "Please wait."

Holding fast, she inched her body toward the hole that was the cave. She slid inside and, with relief, found she could lie flat with her legs and body safely inside the shelter and her arms outstretched to hold Jared. She braced her feet against the dry rock inside and pulled steadily. Jared's weight dragged her forward, but the entrance to the cave gave her something to press on, and she blocked the opening with her body. She pulled hard, and Jared got one knee up onto the shelf. She braced herself again, scraping her cheek on the cave entrance, and pulled harder. This time Jared swung both legs onto the shelf and lay there, sobbing. After a moment he crawled in to lie next to her. They clutched each other in a wordless embrace, their hearts beating as one with the crashing water below. They didn't let go until they heard the shouts of the police above them on the cliff and saw a thick rope harness dangling in front of the cave.

They all sat around the kitchen table with the three police officers who had pulled Molly and Jared to safety and gave their reports of the night's emergencies. Molly made more mint tea. Abner looked at his cup distastefully and asked for a shot of whiskey instead. Molly obligingly rummaged in the pantry until she found some. The police officers looked longingly at the bottle, as if they would gladly follow suit were it not for the fact that they were still on duty.

Miss Wilkins poured an inch of whiskey into glasses and set them down in front of everyone. "Go ahead," she urged them all. "Drink up. After a night like tonight, we can just say it's medicine." She drained hers in a single gulp. The police and Jared did, too. Abner helped himself to a second shot, but it did nothing to calm his trembling. Molly sipped hers and the liquid in her throat felt like fire going down. But it warmed her.

The police phoned The Breakers to report that Abner was safe and secured permission from the head nurse for the old man to spend the night—or what was left of the night—at the house on the headland. After the police left there were hot baths to draw and warm, dry clothes to find. Once Abner was dressed in a pair of Bill's running pants and a sweatshirt, Molly helped him to bed in the master bedroom. She placed a hot water bottle at his feet and tucked the quilt around him in an effort to calm his trembling. Abner insisted the hatbox be set next to him on the bed. "It's mine," he said in a truculent child's voice when Molly reached for it. "She gave it to me."

The hatbox's pretty flowered pattern was all but rubbed off and stained dark with water. The lid was crumpled and wet from the rain. The blue satin ribbon was missing, and instead it was tied with string. It was the same box, though—Clementine's hatbox—and Molly longed to open it. But then Miss Wilkins came in to rummage through Paulette's clothes for something warm to wear, and Molly turned her back resolutely on the box. Maybe in the morning Abner would let her look inside. If not, she knew she would have to peek anyway.

She found a flannel nightgown for Miss Wilkins and led her down the hall to sleep in Molly's own bed. Molly changed into dry sweatpants and a sweatshirt, and brought down her father's bathrobe for Jared. They carried quilts to the study, and she bandaged his scraped and bleeding hands. Then he painstakingly combed out the tangles from her wet hair. They snuggled up on the couch together and slept.

 

It was nearly noon when they woke up. Molly smelled coffee. She opened her eyes. Jared's dark hair was an inkblot on the white pillow. He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily at her. "Tell me I dreamed everything," he said.

"What are we doing on this couch together, then?" She threw back the quilt and swung her legs off the couch. It had still been drizzling a few hours earlier when the phone rang, jolting her from sleep again. She had dragged herself from her cocoon to answer. Bill was calling to say that everything was under control and Paulette was all right. The doctors had been able to stop the bleeding before she lost the baby, and they prescribed bed rest for Paulette from now until the baby's birth. They would be coming home after lunch, Bill said, in an ambulance arranged by the hospital.

"That's wonderful, Dad," Molly had murmured, foggy with sleep. "That's great." She would wait till they returned to tell them what had happened after he and Paulette flew off in the helicopter. Was it possible so much had taken place in one night?

Now the rain was over.' The fresh day sparkled. She left Jared on the couch and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen, where she found Abner and Miss Wilkins sitting at the table drinking from Paulette's flowered china cups. They were eating eggs and toast.