"There has to be another way out of here,” she said. “We don't know what's in that basement. What if there's a body?"
"Why would you think that?” Carla's eyes went wide.
"No reason.” Harriet tried to mentally take herself to a peaceful place. She imagined a grassy meadow and herself riding bareback on a large white horse.
She'd come home late one night after a movie with her girlfriends and crawled into bed in her dark bedroom beside her cold, dead husband, who had passed away in her absence. It had taken her several years of therapy, during which her counselor had taught her to imagine herself in a safe place, before she could sleep in a bed again. Even though Steve had died five years ago, she still hadn't conquered the dark-room thing.
Carla looked at Harriet and straightened her spine. She went over to the cabinet drawers and dug around until she found a small penlight, a couple birthday candles and a book of matches. She clicked the penlight on and was rewarded with a wavering yellow beam that indicated a used-up battery. She flicked it off quickly. It would probably only be good for one quick flash before it died completely.
"Come on.” She took Harriet by the hand and led her down the stairs, not mentioning the penlight's condition.
She rhythmically swiped her toe across the next step before putting her weight on it, pulling Harriet along with her. Every two steps she reached up and felt for a low overhead, warning Harriet to duck when they reached one.
Harriet stumbled, jamming her toe on the last step.
"Ouch!” she cried.
"Are you okay?” Carla whispered.
Harriet assured her she was fine but limped when she tried to walk.
"This way, I think,” Carla told her and led her slowly to the right, again feeling with her toe and sweeping every now and then with her hand, stopping when they came to a large sheet-metal box.
"I think this is the furnace,” she said, and carefully felt her way around it, continuing around the perimeter of the room.
"How is it you're so good at this?"
"I've spent a lot of time in the dark,” Carla admitted with a sigh.
They were silent for a few minutes as they continued their exploration.
"My momma was very young when she had me. She's spent a lot of time trying to find a man who would make her troubles go away. My daddy took off when I was born. He said he was too young to be a father.
"Then my momma took up with Danny. She said he beat us; I don't really remember that, though. After that, she was with Bobby Jo, and he liked little girls more than he liked my momma, so she started locking me in the basement or closet or toolshed or wherever she could to keep me away from Bobby Jo until she could get away from there. After that, I guess the closet turned out to be a good babysitter."
Harriet was glad for once that it was dark; she knew she had to have a look of horror on her face. Carla was very matter-of-fact in her recitation. A thousand questions came to Harriet's mind, but she didn't want to upset the girl.
"What did you do to pass the time?” she finally asked.
"I pretended I was a princess. My dolly was my attendant. We were in the kingdom of dark and needed to search to find the prince and set him free."
"And did you ever find him?"
"No. I'm still looking. But I've met a lot of interesting creatures along the way."
"You're a stronger woman than I am,” Harriet admitted. “I still sleep with a nightlight.” She knew if she could see Carla, the young woman would be blushing.
Carla sneezed. They had just gone through an open doorway into another space. She sneezed again.
"I have hay fever,” she said, apologetic. “There must be something in here.” She stepped carefully along the wall of the new room. Something rustled when she swept her hand overhead. She took a half-step and reached up again.
"Feel this,” she said, and guided Harriet's hand up to what felt like a clump of dried flowers. She stepped forward and felt again. “I think someone is drying herbs or something in here. It feels like a series of bouquets or something hanging from the ceiling."
Harriet stepped around Carla and crept forward, moving her hand from one bunch to another.
"I think you're right. Did you notice the dried flower arrangements in our rooms? Someone here seems to be into it. In my room they have dried lavender and eucalyptus in the arrangement. I guess it's a good way to keep the rooms smelling fresh."
"Does eucalyptus grow here?” Carla asked.
"I don't think so. But I bet they harvest wildflower seeds for the meadow. I've tried using those wildflower mixes, and the first year they look great but the second year only the ugly stuff comes back and it goes downhill from there until you have a big patch of weeds. I'd be willing to bet someone seeds that meadow by the pond. It looks too good to be natural."
Carla sneezed again. “Come this way,” she said. Harriet moved toward her voice and bumped into her.
"Sorry."
"It's okay. I think I felt a little air coming from across the room. Hold my hand-we're going to take it slow."
Harriet was impressed by how surefooted Carla was. She led them carefully across to the other corner of the room and then along the wall to the right.
"There's a door here,” she said.
"Let me see.” Harriet found the latch and opened the door. “You're right, there's a definite feel of fresh air in here."
Carla once again led the way.
"Stay close,” she said. She started carefully across the room then stopped. “There's a step here. I'm going to go up and see if there are more.” She moved, and Harriet heard a thump followed by an “Ouch!"
"There are steps that go up, but the ceiling doesn't."
Harriet stepped onto the first step and reached up. She patted the sloped ceiling. “Do you still have the little light?"
Carla handed her the penlight, and Harriet turned it on, scanning the ceiling.
"Yes,” she said, and held her hand up for a high five. Carla slapped it. She swept the small light around the space they were in.
"This is some kind of root cellar, and if we can pry the latch open, it's our path to freedom."
Carla worked her way to a wall shelf revealed by the dim light. Harriet heard the rustle of metal.
"There are some old tools here.” She came back with a hammer and some kind of file or chisel. Harriet wedged the chisel under the latch and hit it. The latch popped out of the door on the first try.
It took three tries and all the strength both women possessed, but finally the door swung open with a bang.
"Let's get out of here,” Harriet said quietly and limped forward.
They had come out on the west side of the building.
"I think we should go into the woods and circle around the meadow, since we don't know where our tormentor is."
"I like the dark,” Carla said quietly.
Harriet shook her head and limped quietly into the woods. A last glance back revealed smoke seeping out of the high windows of the workroom.
"How bad is your foot?” Carla asked. “Do you want me to go get help?"
"It hurts, but I think it's just my toe. It'll be okay. Let's get back to the Tree House and call for help."
Carla positioned herself next to Harriet and pulled Harriet's arm over her thin shoulders.
"Here, lean on me."
They were on the path to the Tree House almost a half-hour before they heard sirens. There wouldn't be much left for the firefighters to work with.
Chapter Twenty-one
Mavis pulled the door open as Harriet, leaning heavily on Carla, came onto the Tree House porch. She took over providing support and guided Harriet to the sofa.
"Dios mio!” Connie cried, glancing heavenward as she pulled a pillow from the chair and put it on the coffee table. “What have you done?” She gently guided Harriet's foot to the pillow and began undoing her shoelaces.