by Jane Toombs
She took a deep breath and the scent of decaying leaves drifted in through the open window. Dying leaves. Underneath that smell was the faint tang of evergreen from the pine next to the dormitory.
The aromatic odor reminded her of the pines in the valley. Most had survived the quake and would probably survive her. A sense of the briefness of human life filled her with a sudden urge to escape.
"I want to travel," she told Frances.
"Fine. And what good will you do while you travel?"
"What do you mean?"
"Will the places you visit be any better off for you having been there?" Frances asked.
"I suppose not. I hadn't thought about traveling in that way."
"You could think again--no law against it. You could find some way to contribute."
"How?"
"Learn to do something useful. You and Katrina have more money than you'll ever need. But giving away money isn't giving yourself. Learn to help people or you'll be destroyed as surely as Hallow House."
"I'm not sure I understand."
Frances gave her a level look. "Katrina's going to marry Ronal Stevens and make him happy. She'll be happy in the doing. But you--you're the restless one, always searching for your own Holy Grail. I've known you since you were born and even then you demanded more than Katrina. Those who ask for more must be prepared to give more. Are you?"
Mother always gave. Naomi recalled helping her at the blood bank when the Red Cross drew blood in Porterville. Then there were the times her mother had driven all over the county to see the workers' children got their immunizations. People were better off because her mother had lived.
"I blame myself for Mama dying," she told Frances. "I shouldn't have left her in that room."
"You'd only have perished along with her," Frances said. "Think how she'd have felt if her last thought had been that you and Katrina would die with her. As it was, Vera faced death calmly, I'm sure. She knew she'd be going to join your father."
"But I'm not like my mother," Naomi insisted. "I'm not a good person."
"No one is entirely a good person, but you can chose to be whatever you want."
Naomi remembered saying similar words to Ronal. Now she questioned them.
"Come out and walk along the shore with me," Frances said. "I may not get another chance to see you before I leave on the ship."
Frances left her there, facing the ocean, the taste of salt on her lips.
On the other side of the Pacific, Naomi told herself, is Japan and China and Russia. Places to visit--how she longed to. She could travel, the money was there. More than enough. Why did she have to do anything else?
The waves advanced and receded, in and out. Seagulls screamed raucously as they trailed a fishing boat heading into the bay. The October sun glittered on the water and warmed her skin.
There is one way I could be like my mother, Naomi thought. I could learn to be a nurse.
The next morning she talked to Sister Elmira about the possibility of entering a nursing program in January. Sister was both supportive and enthusiastic and suggested St. Sergius Hospital.
When she told Katrina, her sister spontaneously hugged her. "How wonderful! Mama would be so pleased. I haven't your courage or I'd do it, too."
"I hope mine lasts. Do you ever wonder if the Gregory curse has been lifted? If destroying Hallow House was only a part of it?"
"You're talking nonsense," Katrina said firmly. "It's all over. When you start your nursing course you'll forget about such things as curses."
Naomi smiled at her sister. "Science will chase out superstition--is that what you mean?"
Later, when Katrina had settled to her studying, Naomi stared out into the darkness beyond their windows. Her sister didn't know Tabitha's pendant was hidden in the lining of one of Naomi's suitcases.
But she had no intention of bringing it with her into a new life. Katrina was right--all that was over. Eagerness flowed through her. Once she was a nurse, she could still travel and find a way to help people at the same time.
She'd certainly throw away the pendant before then. If it would let her...
Chapter 44
In May of 1958, Ronal and Katrina's marriage was already in the past, but Naomi sometimes wondered if it hadn't pushed her into her engagement to Larry Hayward. Not that they planned to marry until she was through her nurse's training and Larry had gotten accepted into a psych residency.
At the moment he was an intern and she was in her final year of nursing. They got along well, and she did care for him, but she couldn't help but wonder if she'd been a bit hasty in agreeing to the engagement. Once Larry finished his psychiatric residency, he'd be setting up in practice and where would all her travel plans be then?
Had she thought to impress Katrina with the man she'd chosen? Naomi hoped not, but she couldn't be sure. Because of Larry's choice of specialty, he was deeply into the hidden agendas everyone carries around.
Like this weekend. The last place Naomi would have chosen to drive to for a picnic was the ruins of Hallow House. Larry, though, saw the planned trip as therapeutic. He believed she had a potentially dangerous phobia about her old home and was eager to scotch it by monitoring her return to the ruins.
She couldn't deny he was probably right, but that didn't made her any more eager to go. As she waited in the dorm for his call telling her that he was on his way to pick her up, she knew very well she just plain didn't want to go.
When the phone rang, she picked it up with some reluctance.
"Sorry," Larry told her, "the trip's off. We'll reschedule it as soon as possible. I have to cover for Greg Bates this weekend--he's got the flu."
"That's too bad," she said, referring to Greg being sick, not the postponing of the trip.
"I figure this is the perfect chance for you to drive over there alone. You don't even have to get out of the car, if you don't want to. But it'd be the first step in sweeping those musty old cobwebs of superstition from your mind."
Alone? Was he crazy?
"I'll be interested in your reactions when you return," Larry went on. "With luck we'll be able to get together Monday evening."
"I'm not sure I want to go alone," she said.
"All the more reason to try it. Complete mental health takes effort, you know. Got to run. See you."
She stared at the phone after she hung up. She wouldn't go by herself, never mind mental health. She was doing just fine without having laid eyes on the place since the night of the quake that had killed her mother.
On the other hand--what would there be to frighten her? She might find herself reliving her grief, but that was something she could tolerate. And, of course, she could make a side trip to Porterville to visit Samara and Kevin, as she and Larry had planned to do, It had been ages since she'd seen her sister. Ivan was already in kindergarten and little Vera no longer a baby, but a toddler.
Maybe she'd just go visit them and to heck with the ruins.
Once she reached Porterville, though, she kept on going, almost as though the car had a mind of its own and was determined to deliver her to the ruins.
For the first year, Mervin and Grace had stayed on the small house near the garage as caretakers, but they'd found it too lonesome and had accepted another job. According to Kevin, the place didn't need looking after because the local people stayed away from it.
"Ever since the Soames kid went to the ruins on a dare and broke his leg," Kevin had added, "even the teenagers steer clear of the place. He insists he was trying to get away from a headless ghost when he had the accident, you know. Nonsense, of course, but the ruins do have an eerie ambiance, especially at night. "
Turning into the drive, no longer guarded by the snarling wolves that had also been quake victims, Naomi wondered if the white owl still hunted in the groves. If so, perhaps the owl's soundless and ghostly appearance might explain what the Soames boy thought he saw.
She was determined to think as positively as she could, wanting to
be able to tell Larry she'd laid at least some of her own ghosts of the past to rest.
With this in mind, she drove the car as far as the still-standing garage. If she skirted the ruins and walked to the stream, she might find a pleasant spot under the sycamores to eat the picnic lunch she'd already had packed to go when she got Larry's call. On the way back to the car, she'd veer over for a quick look at the ruins and then return to Porterville to visit her sister and family.
Yes, she could manage that much.
Still, she had to nerve herself to get out of the car. Because of the birds, the quiet wasn't awesome and she was glad to hear their twittering and songs. Mixed in with the bird calls, though, was a noise she couldn't identify. Metal scraping against stone?
Not a scary sound in itself but, after a moment or two, she was almost sure it came from the ruins. Her first impulse was to climb back into the car and head for Porterville.
No, damn it! She'd come this far on her road to Larry's ideal of complete mental health, she wasn't going to turn tail without at least a cursory look around.
Her feet definitely didn't want to walk in the direction of the ruins any more than she wanted them to take her there. Gritting her teeth, she set the picnic basket on the car hood and forced herself to start toward the ruins. When what remained of Hallow House came into view, she stopped. Hardly anything was left standing amidst the rubble.
A flicker of motion to her left caught her eye and she froze, staring at a figure with what looked like a pick-ax raised over his head. As she watched apprehensively, he brought it down onto the rubble, making the noise she'd heard.
A man wielding a pick-ax might be scary, but he certainly was nothing supernatural. Who was he and what was he doing here? The safest thing might be to retreat, after all she was alone. Yet, ruins or not, this was Gregory property. Hers.
Before she'd made up her mind what do to, he glanced her way and saw her. Tossing down the pick-ax, he strode toward her. Naomi stood her ground.
"Who are you?" she demanded, taking in the sight of a stocky man with longish dark hair bound by a red bandana. Though he was a stranger, he didn't look particularly menacing now that he'd discarded the pick-ax.
"Grant Rivers," he said as he approached. "Anthropologist." He stopped and smiled. "I don't know your name, but I'd lay odds you're related to Samara Cannon."
Partly reassured, Naomi nodded. "I'm her sister, Naomi Gregory. I was wondering what you're doing here."
"Samara very kindly gave me permission to look around the ruins of Hallow House."
"What on earth would interest an anthropologist here?" she asked, noticing how dark his eyes were, almost black.
"I've heard rumors of an ancient Indian burial ground near the site."
She couldn't prevent her involuntary shudder.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm afraid we anthro people are rather gruesome folk."
"It's not your fault. It's--well, Hallow House was--" She paused, unsure she wanted to tell anything more to Grant Rivers. Still, she didn't want to walk off without another word. He intrigued her.
Without realized what she intended to do until the words were out, she said, "Would you care to share my picnic lunch with me?"
His entire face lit up, dark eyes sparkling. "That's the best invitation I've had in a long time. Where?"
"Under the sycamores, down by the stream." She pointed. As they walked together across the field, it occurred to her that maybe the reason for her impulsive invitation was that, with Grant for company, she wasn't alone at this place she hadn't wanted to come back to.
"A beautiful spot," he said. "You must miss living here."
"No. Not at all."
He glanced at her, but didn't comment.
He was, she thought, an attractive man. His eyes fascinated her.
When they reached the stream, she found the big, flat boulder exactly where she remembered it. Even with the food spread out onto its top, there was room for them both to sit. "Tell me about anthropology," she said as they ate. "What made you chose your profession?"
"When I was a kid, I always wanted to travel," he said. In seventh grade an anthropologist came to talk to our assembly and I was hooked. This guy had been all over the world. I never looked back after that."
She smiled at him. "We could have been twins. I've always wanted to travel, too, and I do intend to when I finish my nurse's training."
"I've since found additional reasons to enjoy my profession," he said. "By the way, these sandwiches are delicious."
Since she'd made them herself, Naomi was pleased.
"Hallow House has an interesting history," he went on. "I won't ask you about it if the subject bothers you. I know your sister doesn't care to discuss it."
Naomi didn't reply immediately. Somehow she felt a bond between them, perhaps because as children they'd both yearned to travel. Finally she said, "If you ask me something I don't want to answer, I'll say so."
"Fair enough. First let me explain my interest. You do know the local Indians are Yokut?" At her nod, he continued. "My grandfather was one of them, but my mother married a non-Indian from San Diego and moved there with him. My sister and I grew up in southern California without much understanding of our Indian heritage. When I was at UCLA I got interested in my background and came to the valley to look for my roots."
"And did you find them?"
"As much as a man can who's born and raised out of the Yokut culture. My grandfather was dead, but one of the old men took me on as an honorary grandson. It was from him I heard about the burial ground of the Headless Ones."
He paused to look searchingly at her, his dark eyes concerned. "Does this trouble you?"
It did, but she wasn't going to admit it. She wanted to learn more, she felt she could listen forever to his deep, melodious voice.
"Please go on," she said.
"I soon learned that local tradition placed this burial ground under Hallow House. Or, to be more specific, under what are now the ruins of the house."
"Then you must know Hallow House was supposed to be cursed because my great-grandfather ignored the local Indians who warned him not to build on the burial site."
Grant nodded.
"I try not to believe that's what destroyed it, but I've never been able to quite convince myself. As long as it stood, Hallow House had more than its share of tragedy." Despite herself, her lip quivered and tears pricked her eyes. Without understanding exactly how it happened, she found herself in his arms, weeping on his shoulder, his deep voice soothing her.
As she grew calmer, she realized she didn't want to move from this sanctuary. She'd never felt so safe since she was a child, held by one or the other of her parents.
"I wouldn't distress you for anything," Grant murmured. His warm breath so close to her ear triggered another sensation entirely, one so intense she wasn't sure whether he kissed her because she turned her face to him or if he would have anyway.
When their lips met, she lost all contact with reality. This is what she'd always needed, this man holding her, kissing her, sending her spinning into a world that held only the two of them.
When he finally released her, she was breathless and so was he. They gazed at each other in amazed recognition. She was sure he knew, as she did, that what had happened between them had changed everything, had rewritten all the rules.
"I don't know much about you," she said.
"Unattached, footloose, and wondering what hit me," he told her.
She was about to say she was unattached as well, when she suddenly remembered Larry, the man she was engaged to. Since she wasn't allowed to wear his ring on duty at the hospital, she often forgot to put it on--like today.
Grant tipped her chin up to look into her eyes. "You can't be married," he said.
"I'm not," she told him, relieved at not having to confess about Larry. At this moment, her engagement seemed completely unreal.
"I don't usually--I mean I'm not...." she gave up, unable explain how
different it was with him.
Grant smiled. "I know that." He bent and brushed his lips over hers in a kiss that promised this was only the beginning. "And because you don't usually, I think we'd better cut short this tryst before I wind up ravishing you atop this granite boulder."
Naomi giggled, afterward thinking she couldn't recall when she'd last felt light-hearted enough to giggle.
Hand in hand they wandered back to her car, where he stowed the picnic basket.
"Are you staying in Porterville?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Camping out on the grounds here."
