Houses of Stone (44 page)

Peggy denied that she was (a), tired; or (b), in danger of committing manslaughter, but Karen finally convinced her that she would be better employed as a photographer. With her out of the way, the others were able to work more efficiently. Bill pitched in with a will, and by noon
they had cleared almost half the interior, down to the floor. Bucky (it was Bucky) had determined that the opening in the rock was a tunnel— three feet of one, at least.

"It looks more like a natural fissure than a man-made tunnel," Peggy said, aiming the camera. "The sides are rough and the roof is so low a person would have to crawl ..." She stopped, with an uneasy glance at Karen, and repeated, "It couldn't be man-made."

"You want me to quit digging it out, then?" Bucky inquired hopefully.

"No," Karen said. "I have to see—"

"Not till after lunch," Peggy said firmly. "Make it quick, boys, the clouds are thickening."

They continued to thicken as the day went on, though the rain held off. Even without sun to warm it, the air was hot and oppressive. The boys shed their shirts, Peggy her light jacket. By mid-afternoon they had finished most of the soft drinks in the cooler and Bucky, backing out of the lengthening hole in the rock, showed signs of rebelling.

"There ain't nothing in there," he wheezed, mopping mud off his face with the back of his hand. "It's got so narrowed down I gotta lie flat. You want me to go any further?"

"I guess not," Peggy said. "The air is probably bad, we don't want you passing out while you're stuck in there. Have something to drink."

They were gathered around the cooler finishing the last of the drinks when they heard someone coming along the path. He stood in the opening for a moment, anonymous in the shadows, before proceeding. When he emerged into the light Karen saw he had a magnificent black eye, and he carried himself with a stiffness that suggested other bruises concealed by his clothing. One of the boys said something under his breath, and the others snickered.

"Sorry," Cameron said—as Karen had known he would. "I meant to be here this morning, but I was detained. How is it going?"

Peggy inspected him from head to foot but for once she refrained from tactless comments. "Very well," she said. "Come and have a look."

It was the first time Karen had paused for an overall view. The result might not have looked impressive to one who had not labored mightily to produce it. Most of the floor was relatively clear, but it was far from even; some of the stone blocks, too massive to be moved by a single man, had been heaved and tossed aside by the sullen, steady force of
growing tree roots. Stumps and thicker roots, some as big around as her wrist, still protruded.

She picked her way carefully over the rough ground, following Peggy and Cameron to the far wall, where there was a small pile of objects. The excavation of those scraps had taken several hours; when the first of them showed up, Peggy had insisted they use trowels and their gloved hands instead of shovels.

"Rusty nails," she said, indicating them with the toe of her boot. "These scraps are wood, but not branches; they've been sawed and shaped."

"A table?" Cameron stooped awkwardly and lifted one of the longer pieces of wood. It crumbled in his hand, and he quickly lowered it to the ground again.

"Or a chair or a bed. There's not enough left to tell; most of it has rotted away."

"But ..." Cameron turned to face Karen. "But that's evidence of habitation, isn't it? Furniture. That's what you hoped to find?"

"One of the things." At close range his eye looked terrible, half closed and surrounded by purpling flesh. Honesty compelled her to add, "I didn't expect anything like this. And there's no way of knowing how old it is."

"A laboratory might be able to tell you," Cameron said. "You aren't going to leave it here, are you? If it rains tonight ..."

Peggy nodded. "We'll have to move the stuff, much as I hate to risk it; the wood's half rotted already. Do you have a tarp or some plastic bags we could borrow, Cameron?"

"Yes, of course. I'll get them."

"I'll go, if you can tell me where they are." Bill hadn't spoken till then. Karen didn't doubt he meant to be helpful, but Cameron's response was not particularly gracious.

"In the back of my truck."

"Right. I won't be long."

He went loping off and Peggy squatted in the corner, poking with a trowel at something that had aroused her curiosity. The boys had gathered around the cooler. Cameron said in a low voice, "I haven't had a chance to apologize."

"What for?"

A wry smile further distorted his abused face. "The list is fairly extensive, isn't it? My rudeness to you the other day, the fire, Miz Fowler's insults and insinuations, Lisa's questionable business dealings, my brother-in-law's foul mouth—"

"None of them were your fault."

"You're lying in your teeth," Cameron said pleasantly. "They were all my fault, directly or indirectly. That damned apartment was a firetrap, and I let the old . . . lady . . . talk me into insuring it for more than it was worth. I let Bobby badger me into losing my temper and behaving like a jackass. And the things I said that afternoon, when you were a guest in my house—"

"Cameron, please." Karen put her hand on his arm, and saw him flinch at her touch. "Stop doing this to yourself. I don't blame you for any of those things—even for yelling at me that day. It was understandable. I don't know how you could do what you've done all these years; I'd have cracked up long ago with the misery of it."

"It hasn't been easy. She used to be so ... The only way I can cope is to think of her as someone other than the bright, cheerful woman I used to know. In a sense, she is someone else. There used to be moments when she recognized me, but that hasn't happened for months."

Karen wondered how often he had allowed himself the indulgence of talking about his mother. "Will you be able to get her the help she needs now?"

"I think so." He leaned back against the wall. "The place I have in mind won't take her without a sizable down payment. My share of the proceeds of the sale and the house should do it. If she—" He broke off with a sharp intake of breath and shoved Karen aside. "Peggy! Watch out!"

He reached Peggy in time to grab her around the waist as the stones at which she had been prodding sagged and shifted. Earth and twisted roots prevented a complete collapse; only one stone fell, and it would have done even greater damage if Cameron had not pulled Peggy out of the way. When Karen reached them she saw that Peggy was half-lying, half-sitting on the floor clutching her foot and cursing.

"Did it hit you? Is it broken? What happened?"

"Get back," Cameron ordered, taking Peggy into his arms. They both grunted as he lifted her.

"Cracked rib?" Peggy inquired.

"For God's sake," Cameron groaned, "stop prying into other people's business." He carried her outside the house and lowered her to the ground.

The boys converged, questioning and exclaiming. Bill ran up, dropping an armful of plastic bags. "What happened?"

"One of the stones fell," Karen said, kneeling by Peggy and reaching for her foot. "Is it broken, Peggy?"

"I don't think so." Peggy bit her lip. "It hurts too much to be broken. Oh, hell! What a stupid thing to do. I got so interested in ... I've gotta go back, there's something buried under the—"

"You're not going anywhere, except to the emergency room," Karen said, taking a firm grip on Peggy. "Bill, will you drive her in your car? I'll bring hers."

"Does this mean you ladies are finished for the day?" Bucky asked hopefully.

Peggy was forced to admit that she, at least, was finished for the day. Two of the boys made a chair with their hands and carried her off, but she was still yelling orders at Karen as they vanished among the trees. "Don't you dare leave this place until you've collected the nails and the wood scraps! Look there by the wall where I was digging! But be careful! I think it—ow!"

"Don't you dare do anything of the kind," Bill said firmly. "Come on, Karen, I'm not leaving you here alone."

"I'm not alone." She indicated Cameron, who had backed away when Bill and the boys took over. He stood watching them, arms at his sides, his face unreadable.

"But—"

"Don't argue with me, Bill. Peggy needs you and I don't. Hurry up."

"Oh, all right. I'll see you later. I damn well better see you later," he added, with a sour look at Cameron.

Karen waited until the sounds of his retreat had died away before she picked up the plastic bags and turned. Cameron had not moved. "You'd better go," he said very quietly.

"I'm not leaving you here alone either. There have been too many . . . accidents."

"Accidents," Cameron repeated. "Yeah. All right, let's get it over with. Where are you going? I thought you wanted—"

"Did you see this?" Karen indicated the fissure in the rock, now gaping open. Beyond the entrance, narrow and low, darkness filled it.

"What is it?" Cameron came to her side.

"You have a flashlight up at the house, don't you?"

After a moment Cameron said, "I don't think I like what I think you're thinking. There can't be anything there; it's only a—"

"I've got to see for myself. This may be my only chance. You don't have to come with me."

"For God's sake, Karen! Never mind my damned claustrophobia, you could get stuck back there or mashed by falling rock, or ... Look, let's collect Peggy's bits and pieces first, and have a look at that place where she was digging. If you're still set on this crazy stunt after we've finished, I'll get the flashlight. Okay?"

"All right."

She knew what he hoped: that it would start raining, and that that would put an end to her crazy stunt. They gathered the scraps of wood and nails and stowed them in the bags, not without damage to the objects. Leaving them to be soaked by water would have damaged them more, though. Then Cameron climbed over the fallen stone and knelt by the wall.

"Hand me that trowel, will you please?"

"Be careful," Karen said anxiously.

"Mmmm." After a moment he sat back on his heels. "I can't see anything. But it's getting dark, and I'm not keen on digging out more dirt until I can see what I'm doing. Suppose we cover this with plastic and leave it till tomorrow?"

"I may not be here tomorrow."

He turned to look at her. "You're leaving?"

"Probably. If my car is ready."

"You should go anyway," Cameron said slowly. "You should go now. Back to the motel."

"I want to see what's in the tunnel."

"Karen, please. It's going to rain like hell pretty soon, and your friends
will be worried about you." Slowly he rose to his feet. His face was under tight control, but she heard his breath catch.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"If I tell you I feel like hell and I'm about to keel over, will you give up for today?"

"Do you? Are you?" She moved closer to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Yes. No, not really. . . I'll check out that filthy hole in the rock, and I'll investigate Peggy's questionable discovery, and I'll ... do what needs to be done. If you can trust me to do it right."

He looked so tired. Not just tired—defeated.

"I don't know how to do it right either," Karen whispered. "We'll just have to do the best we can."

Her hand moved slowly, lightly, up his arm to his shoulder. He stood rigid as a statue while her fingers curved over the back of his head. Even after it had bent under the gentle pressure of her hand, she had to stand on tiptoe to touch his lips with hers. His movements were as delicate and deliberate as hers had been until his arms held her; then they tightened with a sudden force that brought a stifled cry from her and a gasp from him.

"Was that pain or passion?" she asked breathlessly.

"Both." His lips moved to her closed eyes.

"You do have a cracked rib."

"I don't remember. Let's try that again. It was almost right, but I think we can do better."

"I don't want to hurt you—"

"I'm supposed to say that." His exhalation of laughter mingled with hers.

At first she took the distant sound for a rumble of thunder. Then it rose in pitch, like a scream, and she went rigid in his arms. "My God! What is it?"

Cameron said something under his breath. They stood listening for a moment, and then the sound came again. This time Karen heard the words. "Hey, brother! Where are you, boy? We know you're here. Come on out and play!"

"It's Bobby," Cameron said flatly. "He's been trailing me all day. I thought . . . Come on."

"Wait. What are you going to do? He's not alone." The chorus of high-pitched voices sounded like dogs, baying on a fresh scent.

"No. He likes to have company on these little jaunts." The air was dusky dark with the approaching storm; his face shone with sweaty pallor. "I'll go ... talk to him. He doesn't know you're here."

"He knows someone else is here. Peggy's car—"

"Oh, God, yes. I'd forgotten." He turned in a desperate circle, scanning the clearing in search of a way out. The thorny barricade could have been forced, but only at the cost of painful scratches, and the signs of their passage would have been clearly visible. The voices were louder now, closer. One rose in a wild Rebel yell. "You'd better hide. They're probably drunk, and they might . . . That tunnel. Pull some brush over the entrance. I'll tell them there was an accident, that you all left together—"

"You won't have a chance to tell them anything!" She clung to him, fighting his effort to pull away. "They'll be four or five to one, and you've already got a cracked rib. We've both got to hide."

"Karen—"

"Cameron." She twisted both hands in his shirt and swung him around to face her. "Do you really think I'd cower in that hole listening while they beat the shit out of you?"

The taut muscles of his face sagged into a faint smile. "Well, if you put it that way . . . Let's go then. Is that your purse over there? Take it with you; if they see anything lying around they'll know you're still here."

Karen scooped up her purse and Peggy's forgotten jacket, and they ran for the tunnel. It was probably almost as hard for Cameron to enter that dark hole as it would have been for him to face four or five opponents. But he'd survive an attack of claustrophobia. He might not survive a meeting with Bobby and his buddies.

"Hurry up," Cameron gasped. "They've found the path."

A louder whoop from Bobby confirmed his statement. "Ready or not, here we come! Wheee-hoo!"