“Why would she go there? What’s up there that she needs? We have everything here. Why would she want to leave me?” Tears of anger again seeped out of his eyes, and he reached down to stroke himself, his only comfort. “I’d like to punish her when she gets back. Oh, yes.” The pleasure was intense. “I’d like to hurt her like she hurt me.” Faster. “I’ll hit her and pinch her and knock her down.” He thought he would burst. “And she’ll beg me.” His orgasm was violent, his whole body stiffened with the release.
Afterward, he felt happy and free. He went for a swim.
Every so often, he returned to the hole in the wall by the square rocks. She was never there. He felt lonely, he missed her, but he never really felt alone. The air of the tunnels, the familiar feel of the rocks under his feet, the cold ponds and their inhabitants were his companions. When he felt sad, or angry, he would think he had chased her away. Then he would stroke himself and feel better again. It gave him intense pleasure until he learned that cutting the fish was better. That was even more intense. He tortured them while they were still alive, and they flopped and writhed and slowly died.
He took all these fish and bundled them up in moss and carried them past the tunnel that led to the square rock wall to a different cavern, a cavern with a little pond on one side and a huge lake on the other side. He dumped them in the lake, far away from where the stench would bother him. These fish were dirty; he could not eat them.
But mostly, he waited. He sat in the dark, blind eyes staring into nothingness, thinking about his mother, choosing not to think about the light and the world above. He thought she would be back soon, and they would live forever in the caves. Together.
7
Sally diligently worked her body until it was fit. She swam in the old swimming hole she and Jackie used to frequent when they were children. She couldn’t comprehend that she was now middle-aged, that Clint was twenty years old, that her life was thoroughly destroyed. She took long walks through the woods and the fields. The aged and worn boards that covered the stairs to the tunnel were still there, the lock and hinges rusted solid. She would sit with her back to the big trees and stare at the cover, thinking about time, about life, about fairness.
She’d seen Michael’s children, too. Justin, about thirteen years old, strong, tall, looking much like his father. The twins, eleven years old, with thick red hair like Maggie’s, turned-up noses and freckles; Ellen and Elsie. And Mary. Different from the rest. No more than four, she was small, thin, with hands and feet too big for her size and very, very shy. The children would swim in the pond as she watched, quietly hidden in the woods. She didn’t want to frighten them, and she didn’t want to have to answer any questions.
Cora was a good woman. They talked sometimes far into the night. But she could never understand. Sally Ann hadn’t told her about Clint, because this was not his world. He didn’t believe in it, and who was she to keep telling him that there was something better? She had survived with the dream that back with her family she would be happy again. She wanted a normal life for him. She wanted him to be surrounded by love and family and all the things she wanted for herself. But maybe none of that was to be for them. There was no happiness up here.
Her body was healed. She was gaining weight. Now she had some decisions to make.
Her mother encouraged her to get out and socialize, but the thought was frightening. She had nothing to say to anyone. Except Michael. She had plenty to say to him, and Maggie as well. But she wouldn’t. There was no point. She sighed.
On the way back to the house, she saw Michael and Maggie’s home on the hill where once her dream house was to have stood. The sun was going down and lights were on. It looked so homey, so comfortable. As if they had a will of their own, her feet took her closer to the house. She saw the barn off to the side. Michael kept it all painted up nice. The tractor looked fairly new; the grounds were neat, the trees tall and picturesque. Close enough now to see through the window, Sally Ann kept the big tree in the front yard between her and the kitchen window. When she reached it, she leaned against it and tried to talk sense into herself. “What are you hoping to accomplish by spying on them?” Her conscience would not let her alone.
The temptation however, ruled her actions, and she peered around the tree and into the kitchen. There was Maggie. Fat as always. She didn’t want to see any more, but she couldn’t help herself. She stood next to the tree, eyes riveted on the warm little scene inside, and she was fantasizing that she was the one in there, making dinner for the babies and loving them all. She was so caught up that she didn’t hear Michael come up behind her until he spoke.
“Hello?”
Her face burned a bright red, and she was grateful for the fading light. “Oh, hello. I was, uh, just admiring your house.”
He looked at her carefully. “You’re Cora’s friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I was just out walking.”
“It’s getting late. I think you should be getting back.” His face softened. “Can I give you a lift?”
“Oh, well . . .” She smiled. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. I am rather tired.”
“Not at all. Why don’t you come in and meet my wife while I get the keys to the truck.”
Sally Ann smiled inwardly. She felt devilish. She followed him to the door.
“Maggie? Honey, come meet a friend of your mom’s. She was out walking and got a little too tired, so I’m going to give her a lift back.” He turned to Sally. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He disappeared down the hall.
Maggie walked warily into the living room. Her tone was venomous. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
Sally Ann smiled. “Well, hello, Maggie. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? You’re looking well.”
“Don’t play cutsie with me, Sally Ann. If you tell Michael who you are, I’ll finish ruining your ugly face.”
Sally took a step toward her sister. “Maggie. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to make a life for myself.”
“Then go make it somewhere else. You can’t do it here, and you can’t do it with us!” Maggie almost spit those last words, then turned on her heel and went back to the kitchen. Sally Ann sat down, put her face in her hands, and started to cry.
She felt Michael’s hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right, Mrs . . . Mrs . . . uh, I don’t even know your name—I’m sorry.”
“SALLY ANN HIXSON!” she wanted to scream in his face. She looked up at the concern in his face and started to cry harder. “Can’t . . .”
“Mrs. Cant? Maggie? Would you fetch a glass of water for Mrs. Cant, please?”
Sally Ann took the proffered glass of water and drank it down without looking at Maggie. She didn’t need to see the hate that was written all over her face; she could feel it emanating from her whole being. “Thank you very much. I’m feeling better now. Maybe we’d better go.”
She went straight to her room, past her mother sitting silently in the living room. The next morning she was gone.
8
“Clint? Clint, It’s Mommy. I’m back.” Sally Ann raced through the tunnel, holding tight to the wrist of the wailing child she was half dragging behind her. “Get up and walk or I’ll leave you here!” The child cried louder, trying desperately to keep up, hiccuping fear. “Clint!”
Her sense of navigation came back in a rush. She knew exactly where she was going. The tunnels were her old friends. The smell, the roughness beneath her shoes, the blessed darkness, all meant she was home. And at home she would find peace.
She felt empathy for the child trailing behind her. The initial blindness was an awesome, frightening thing. They ran through the first tunnel that wound around, then approached the huge cavern with Monster Lake. She tried to hush up the girl before they entered, and succeeded in lowering her screams to a whimper. Sally tried to suppress the terrible constriction she felt in her stomach as they entered the cave. They crossed the path between the lakes as quickly and quietly as possible. As soon as they were back into the comfortable tunnels, they took off running again.