TWENTY-ONE

 

 

The light

Bright light, very bright

In his eyes. The cellar’s ceiling light in his eyes.

But the cellar lights were out, weren’t they? That was why they got the flashlight, right? When was that? When was that…?

“Richard?”

Laurie’s face now, hovering over him, blocking off the harsh light in his eyes. Laurie’s lovely face.

Laurie. Laurie. I love you so…

“Richard.”

…best say something, Bucko…she looks pretty worried…

“What happened?”

…brilliant…

“I’m not sure—you passed out, I think. How do you feel?”

Good question. Bad headache for starters. “Passed out?”

“I think so, yes. Can you sit up? This basement floor is cold.”

Yes, he could sit up, he thought he could manage that, with her help.

“What! Richard, what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“You winced! Are you in pain?”

“Headache. I think maybe I hit my head on the floor. Ow! Don’t touch it, please.”

“Sorry. Count your fingers.”

“What?”

“Count them, Richard.”

Richard counted them. That seem to relax the tension from her face. Laurie got an arm under him, helped drag him to his feet. His legs felt rubbery.

“Whoa! Easy. Okay?”

“Headache.”

“You look like shit.”

That’s what Maser had said. “That’s what Maser said…”

Maser.

Wide awake now. Scanning the little room that was his father’s office. Scanning the swivel chair, the desk…the bookcase… “Do you have—“

“Right here.” She held up the gold book.

Held it out, but Richard declined to take it. “Was there a picture in there, a kind of crude drawing?”

“Yes.”

The headache got worse. He had to close his eyes a moment.

“Richard?”

“S’okay, I’m okay. Just getting my breath. And the names, our names, they were in the book too, right? In brown? In blood?”

“Yes.”

He felt her hand on his arm, steadying him. He opened his eyes again. She looked scared, but mostly for him. Scared and beautiful.

“I love you,” he said.

That took some of the scared away, brought a little smile. “What can I do for you, Richard?”

“A kiss would be nice.”

She pecked his cheek.

“On the lips would be nicer.”

She stayed close but her eyes drifted away.

“Oh. Right. Chased you around the room with a knife, didn’t I? It’s all coming back now. Unfortunately.” He took a breath. A deep one. He didn’t feel afraid of the basement anymore. But he still didn’t want to touch the book.

“Richard? You… talked.”

“Talked?”

“When you were passed out on the floor. You talked.”

“What did I say?”

She studied him a moment. Then cupped his cheek with a warm hand. It felt wonderful. “Let’s have a drink first.”

 

* * *

 

Scotch this time, not wine.

Upstairs in the well-lit living room, Laurie checked the back of Richard’s head, finding a mild goose egg, no broken skin and how come you’ve got such thick hair for a man your age and, say, am I losing it or weren’t you grayer back here the last time I—

“Yes. And I seem to be growing new teeth.”

She stared at him above her Scotch glass from her place on the sofa. Richard was doing the pacing again. “New what?”

“Molars. I had them pulled after college but they seem to be growing back.”

“That’s possible?”

“In my mouth, apparently.” He stopped pacing when he saw her expression. “Please stop looking at me like that, Laurie, it’s creepy.”

“It shouldn’t be. I was thinking how young you look, despite everything. What’s your secret?”

He gave her a wry look. “Yes, that’s the question of the hour isn’t it? My secret.” He started pacing again, shaking his head. “I have a feeling that’s a whole other story.”

“Maybe it’s part of the story.”

He thought about that, finally nodded. “Maybe.” He looked at her. “Tell me what I said down there. In dad’s old office when I swooned.”

Laurie smiled at the word ‘swooned.’ “It was pretty jumbled, some of it nearly unintelligible.”

“Try.”

She sipped her drink a moment. “Let’s see. You said something about a hole.” She looked up at him.

“A hole.”

“Yes.”

“Go on. Don’t wait for me unless I stop you.”

She looked at her glass. “You said something about ‘the woods.’ Something about ‘caring for the woods.”

“’Caring for the woods.’ Huh. Go on.”

“Let’s see. You mentioned Scroogie’s name several times. And—“

“How?”

“About Scroogie? I don’t know…you sounded…what, sad maybe? ‘Don’t’ something ‘Scroogie’. ‘Don’t lie,’ or “don’t try’ or something. And you mentioned a dog several times.”

Richard jerked toward her. “What kind of dog?”

“You didn’t say. Just a dog. Wait! An old one, I think.”

He watched her, waiting.

“What else…um, something that might have been ‘run’ or ‘dumb’—I couldn’t quite catch it. That’s when the lights came back on in the cellar. You woke up a few seconds after that.”

“I didn’t mention the book?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

Richard stared at the floor. “And I sounded sad?”

Laurie hitched her shoulders. “Sad, melancholy…anxious. You looked…I had your head in my lap, caressing your brow and you looked…troubled.”

Richard rolled it over. “Anything else?”

“Probably. I don’t remember all of it, couldn’t understand the rest. I was pretty upset. I kept worrying you had a concussion from hitting the floor but I didn’t want to go upstairs to the phone and leave you down there alone.”

“Were you scared? Of something in the house?”

“Like the monster? No. Just scared for you.”

Richard paced. “ ‘Caring for the woods’ doesn’t make sense.”

She threw up her hands. “Maybe I heard it wrong.”

“Anything more about the hole?”

Laurie thought about it. “I don’t think so.”

“When did I say that about the hole? Was it in connection with anything?”

“Mmm…you said it around the time you mentioned the woods.”

“‘Caring for the woods.’”

“Yes.”

He paced. Looked up at her. “What if it was ‘clearing’ instead of ‘caring’?”

Laurie nodded immediately. “Yes. Yes, I think it might have been.”

“A clearing in the woods’?”

“That could have been it, yes.”

“But I didn’t say which woods?”

“No. I’d have remembered that.”

He paced. “A clearing in the woods.’” He looked at her. “ ‘A hole in the clearing in the woods’?”

She watched him.

Richard chewed his lip. “And I talked about Scroogie…”

“Yes. Clearly.”

“’… ‘don’t try’ or ‘don’t lie’ or something like that...”

“I think so.”

“‘Don’t try’…’don’t lie’. How about, ‘don’t cry.’”

Laurie’s mouth opened a little.

“‘Don’t cry, Scroogie.’” Richard said, “could that have been it?”

“Why ‘cry.’?”

“Because I’m having an image of Scroogie crying as a kid.”

Laurie was nodding now, like it was coming back to her. “I think that could have been it.” Then, with a confident snap. “Yes!”

Richard fumbled out his car keys.

“Where are we going?”

“To see Scroogie.”