by Jane Toombs
"I'm trying to understand," she said, "but I'm afraid I don't."
"Your mother never could," John told her. "I suppose no one but a Gregory would. You're likely to be affected with this urge after my death. I can't be sure, though." He paused and stared off into the distance. "Always before there's been a Gregory son."
Sergei was dead. Shot by her father. For the first time it occurred to Samara that he might be still suffering, that he might never be able to forget it. She leaned forward, touched his arm and murmured. "I'll try to be the heir you expect, Daddy."
Irma had just begun to make coffee when Samara came down early the next morning. She drank a glass of orange juice and ate a graham cracker, telling Irma she didn't have time for anything more. As she hurried out into the still cool new day she was aware her jodhpurs fit her perfectly and that the apricot blouse she wore was a color becoming to her. She feared her matching cashmere sweater quite likely would smell forever of horses but that couldn't be helped. It was important to look her best.
Mark was waiting at the stables. "I told Jose last night we would be taking the horses early, but I would saddle them so he was not to worry about us needing his help," Mark said. "I hope you like to ride the mare because I've saddled her for you."
Anna K.? She's getting old, but she's still my favorite," Samara told him, thinking how kind it was of him to be so thoughtful of Jose.
ark rode a handsome bay gelding named Cossack, a new addition to the stables. He was a superb horseman, handling Cossack with neither Sergei's bravado nor Sal's expert gentleness. She let him ride a little ahead so she could watch him without his knowledge. As magnificent a mount as Cossack was, in her eyes his rider outshone anyone and anything.
e turned to smile at her and her breath caught. "I assume this cave is up in the hills?"
Samara had managed to forget their destination in her eagerness to be with Mark.
Skull Cave? Yes, we ride due east toward the mountains. Are you interested in Indian artifacts like Mr. Grosbeck was?"
Not especially," he admitted. "The cave is what I want to see. Will told me there's an Indian legend of taboo in this valley that includes the cave."
"I've heard there is, yes."
I had the impression your family was involved in some way."
Samara didn't reply.
"Have a touched on a forbidden subject?" he asked.
She mustn't blame Mark for asking questions. He knew nothing of Sergei's fascination with the curse of the Gregorys and the havoc that followed. "My great-grandfather built Hallow House on its present site," she said, "despite what you call a taboo. The Indians believe the skeletons without heads in Cabbage Valley didn't want to be disturbed."
"Cabbage Valley?" She explained about the local pronunciation of cabeza.
"So you are saying this cave we go to contains the heads of these skeletons?"
"I'm not an expert. There is a rock formation near the cave that resembles a skull."
"The skeleton heads are not on the cave?"
"I don't know. I've never been beyond the first room."
"But there is a passage to go further underground?"
"I believe so."
"I feel your reluctance to speak of the cave," he said, "I am sorry if I bring back unpleasant memories."
If he meant Sergei, then Mr. Grosbeck must have told Mark at least some of what had happened at Hallow House.
"You must think me foolish to bother with the ancient, with the days that are past when today has only begun." As he spoke Mark halted Cossack on a rocky outcropping and Samara pulled up the mare beside him.
Behind them was Hallow House, dwarfed by distance, the groves green in the rising sun.
"You are as lovely as the dawn," Mark said.
Uncertain how to accept Mark's compliment, Samara
turned her horse and rode on to avoid having to say anything. No one had ever made such romantic remarks to her before. Did he mean them? She hoped so and wished she were more sophisticated.
After a time she brought Anna K. to a halt, pointing to the hill just ahead. "We have to tether the horses here and go on foot the rest of the way," she told Mark. "Sergei discovered this by accident," she said as she led the way up the incline.
"Sergei? Oh, yes, your twin brother. Will told me he is dead, a tragic accident."
She made no reply. Even now she had difficulty speaking casually of her brother and all this wasn't easy for her. "To get to the cave you have to slide down right here, between the crooked pine and the live oak," she said. "Follow me."
Samara slid down the far side of the incline, dropping in a crouch onto the duff below and stepped aside to give Mark room to join her.
"We were out exploring and he was far in the lead, as usual. In fact, I'd lost him until I spotted his tethered horse. I called his name and he yelled at me to come and see what he'd found." Samara ducked under the branches of another pine as she spoke.
Mark followed her to the cave entrance. "One might search for years and not find this," he said.
"Sergei thought he was meant to discover Skull Cave."
"Ah--a mystic."
"I didn't always understand him. When I told Uncle Vince and Mr. Grosbeck about the cave, Sergei was furious with me."
"Your brother wanted the cave to be his."
"But it wasn't."
"Women do not think as men do," Mark said. "Women want to share, to give. It is their nature. You could hardly be blamed for telling."
Samara wasn't sure whether he was defending her or not but decided to assume he was.
"You have never been beyond the first room of the cave?"
"No. I didn't want to go any farther."
"Shall we?" he asked, waving a hand toward the entrance.
Samara could enter the narrow entrance without stooping but Mark couldn't. Once inside, they both flicked on their flashlights and she was once again conscious of the eerie silence within.
"You neglected to mention the paintings--pictographs, I believe they are."
"I assumed Mr. Grosbeck had told you. He came in here and took photographs of the wall paintings. He said they were pre-Yokut, our local tribe."
"Will mentioned artifacts, but he didn't show me the photographs. I had no idea...." His voice trailed off as he flashed the circle of light across the walls of the cave. "Fascinating," he said finally. "All the figures on the south wall are drawn without heads, while the north wall is a series of skull paintings. I wonder if Will ever deciphered the meaning."
"I don't have any idea. The day he came here, he and Sergei want on into the next underground room through the tunnel." She pointed. "They never did tell me what was in there." She didn't add that she was just as glad.
"Who knows about Skull Cave?" Mark asked.
"I suppose everyone at Hallow House does. But outside of Mr. Grosbeck and Stan, no one's actually been here except me, as far as I know."
"Stan?"
"That's Daddy's partner--Stan Aarons. He and Sergei were friends. Stan is sort of an expert on the unusual."
"I have not met Mr. Aarons. He sounds interesting. Is he Jewish?"
No one had ever mentioned it, if he was. "Why?"
"Just curious," Mark said. "Where is he now?"
"He lives in New York City and visits us every so often," Samara said, realizing she'd forgotten to mention that Sal Guerra had also been to Skull Cave. It hardly seemed important enough to tell Mark, though.
"Shall we go into the tunnel?" Mark asked.
She'd been afraid he'd insist on exploring further. "I don't think I want to."
"I won't let anything happen to you," he assured her.
Samara couldn't explain her feeling of dread to herself, much less to him. It wasn't that she was afraid of the dark, or of enclosed spaces. How could she tell him the very air of the tunnel seemed malign to her?
"Fear must never be one's master," he said.
Mark suddenly seemed a stranger she wasn't sure she could
trust. Why was he urging her to do something she feared?
He took her hand in his and his clasp was warm, encouraging her, making her decide she was being ridiculous. What harm was there in going on?
She held to Mark's belt as they crept through the dark tunnel, his flashlight making a glowing circle ahead of him. The dark, though, followed them, pressing close behind.
Just when she thought she couldn't stand any more, they came into another room where they were able to stand upright. She shivered, both from the damp chill and the awareness of how far inside the earth they were. She was glad when Mark put an arm over her shoulders. His nearness made her forget her fears.
His light swept past at eye level over the cavern walls and Samara saw this was a much smaller room than the other.
"Nothing to see," he said. She heard the disappointment in his voice.
Wanting to find something, anything, for him, she switched on her own flashlight and illuminated the ceiling, letting the light drift down the walls. She gasped, the flashlight wavering in her hand so the beam danced erratically. Mark's circle of light joined with hers.
Skulls were hung near the top of the cavern, somehow affixed to the walls, far out of reach. Repulsed as she was by the sight, she was unable to stop herself from starting to count them as Mark's light flashed on each skull.
"Twenty," she said.
"There is a gap," Mark said, "as if a skull is missing."
A spur of rock thrust from the wall at the gap and she thought she could see marks where the rock had been cut away in such a way to leave the spur the missing skull had hung on.
"A clever method for hanging them," Mark said. "Why are the skulls up so high, though? Perhaps, if this was intended as a burial chamber, they started at the top, planning eventually to use all the wall space."
That thought gave her the creeps. The twenty fleshless heads gleamed white, the eye sockets staring blindly. "We're intruders," she blurted, "I feel they're watching us."
"If we had a ladder--" Mark began.
"No!" she cried, suddenly understanding why there was a gap in the row of skulls. "Please, let's go.
As if enjoying her rising terror, the teeth in the skulls grinned obscenely at her, teeth as white as Mark's but dead, dead....
Samara plunged blindly back into the tunnel, bumping her head when she failed to crouch low enough. Dazed she staggered along until she saw the cave mouth and knew she was in the outer chamber. She stumbled into the morning sun and breathed deeply of the pine-scented air.
Sergei had taken that missing skull, she knew as surely as if she'd seen him do it. This was the skull he claimed talked to him. It brought her back to the nightmare months before Vera came to Hallow House.
"The skull says it's Johanna's turn next," he'd told her. She'd been numbed by terror, afraid to tell anyone, while at the same time frantically trying to keep the baby safe without Sergei finding out what she was doing.
She closed her eyes and leaned against a boulder. Vera might have listened to her, Vera might have gotten help for Sergei before it was too late, but it was already too late by the time she came here. Mother was dead. And Johanna was next.
Samara had known in her heart her twin was twisted, but she hadn't wanted to admit it, had been afraid to tell anyone. So, in a way, it was her fault Sergei had died.
"I did not mean to upset you." Mark's voice startled her into a gasp.
Instantly he was at her side, his arms going around her. She buried her face in his chest and began to sob. He held her, at first soothing her with words and pats. Then he lifted her wet face and kissed her in a far from soothing fashion, taking her breath away.
Her tears stopped and she clung to him, wanting more and more.
"You are very desirable," he said as let her go. "Even when crying."
As she dried her face with his handkerchief, he added, "I was wrong to take advantage of your distress."
"You didn't! I wanted--"
"You are young. It is I who should know better."
Samara stared at him, uncertain what was wrong. Finally she said, "At twenty, I ought to know whether I choose to be kissed or not."
He smiled and her heart turned over. I'm n love, she thought incredulously. This is what it's like--a smile can leave you breathless. And a kiss change the world.
"Please do not look so frightened," he said. "I will behave."
"But I don't want you to," she blurted and then covered her mouth with her hand too late.
He shook his head, "You have forgotten who I am. I am nobody, the tutor of your sisters, while you are the princess of the castle."
"This isn't--" She paused, about to say Germany, then found other words. "These aren't the Dark Ages. It's 1940 and there's no nobility in America anyway."
"Money creates an elite anywhere," he said. "I shall have to be satisfied with admiring you from afar."
"Not from afar," she cried, throwing herself into his arms.
He caught her to him savagely but didn't kiss her. His lips pressed against her cheek, he said, "I don't play at love."
Even as she started to protest it was no game for her, he let her go and began climbing the steep incline on the way back to the horses.
Anna K., the escape artist, had managed to work her way loose, as usual, but she was standing quietly by the bay. Samara mounted with her mind in confusion. They rode back at a gallop, without speaking. When Samara dismounted at the stable and gave the mare to Jose, Mark was already unsaddling the bay. She turned from him and started for the house alone.
Inside, she flew up the stairs, heading for her room, but ran into her Uncle Vince at the top.
"You've been out riding already?" he asked.
Head down, she mumbled agreement, trying to edge past him. He stopped her and tipped up her face so she was forced to look at him.
"You've been with that German lout," he accused.
Samara flushed. "Mind your own business."
"Don't be like your mother," he said. "Don't be another Delores. You'll be unhappy all your life."
Furious, she wrenched her arm away "I'm not my mother and I can take care of myself, thank you."
She ran into her room and slammed the door, tears in her eyes. What was wrong with Uncle Vince? He'd always been her friend. Sergei's voice echoed in her mind and she couldn't shut it out.
Mother lets Uncle Vince see her naked, did you know? I've watched them and they--
"No!" Samara cried, covering her ears as though to shut out the words she'd never wanted to hear. Not then and not now. "I won't remember," she vowed.
"Why are you t-talking to yourself?"
Samara whirled to see Johanna perched on the bed. "I came in and waited for you, but it got to be a long time so I looked in your closet to see your new clothes."
"I went riding with Mark." Samara said. "We just got back."
Johanna's face fell. "He d-didn't take me," Her words were mournful. "You didn't either and you p-promised."
"You weren't up when we left," Samara said. "I'll ride with you tomorrow, okay?"
"Are you going to get m-married to Mark?" Johanna asked. "With kissing and all like in the movies? Geneva kissed her husband after t-they got married."
Married. Samara said the word silently. Married to Mark. What would it be like?
"You didn't answer me," Johanna persisted. "Are you?"
"I don't know Mark well enough to marry him," Samara said. "You don't marry people you've just met."
But you can fall in love with them, she thought.
"Oh." Johanna was quiet, thinking this over.
"I'd better hurry or I'll miss breakfast," Samara said, grabbing a dress from the closet.
Johanna slid off the bed and followed her over to the dressing table where she stared at their images in the mirror.
"Am I going to look like you when I grow up?" she asked.
"We have different colored hair and eyes," Samara pointed out.
