Memory Lane

by Vella Munn

  He pressed his palms to her temples and felt her pulse. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her essence. Mark wanted only to let her understand how important she’d become to him.

  Mark’s bedroom was almost twice the size of the one Kim had been sleeping in since coming to Camp Oro. For a moment it bothered her that this was the first time she’d seen it, but she cast the thought away. Mark had brought her in here, and now he was holding her, and she felt full. Too much still hadn’t been said; there was still too much distance between the two of them. But Kim would take what was being offered in this darkened room with its masculine smells, and in the taking, gain a great deal.

  Kim wanted to undress him. She wanted to slowly reveal him to herself, to tease her senses as much as she hoped she was teasing him. He’d taken off his jacket and tie when he left the office, but she could free him of his shirt, slowly pull the belt off his waist, reach for his zipper.

  Kim’s fingers hesitated there. They’d been lovers before; there was no reason for her to feel this unsure. But… A deep breath restored Kim’s courage. She took Mark’s scent deep inside her. His hands were on her shoulders, slowly sliding fabric over her sensitive flesh. What she needed to believe was in his eyes; he was ready for her to continue.

  “I like being undressed by you,” he told her when she was done.

  “I’m shaking. I don’t know why, but I am.”

  It was his turn. With his mouth soft and parted and his nostrils flared, Mark lifted Kim’s soft sweater higher and higher, pausing at her breasts while his thumbs gave her a taste of what was to come. Then the air was on her shoulders, and Mark’s fingers were reaching beneath her bra for her waiting flesh. Kim wanted to go on looking at him. She needed to know what he was feeling.

  There were no doubts now. His eyes and hands and breath told her that. Kim felt the same wanting, but it was more than that for her. Deep inside, so deep that until tonight she hadn’t known it existed in her, she felt a fullness, a sense of having come home.

  As Mark lifted her in his arms and placed her on the bed, a thought slid through her and took over her heart. She was in love. Not just for tonight. Not just for as long as she and Mark made love. Forever.

  With that terrible and wonderful knowledge ruling her, Kim reached for Mark and pulled him down to her.

  “I wanted it to be slow for you,” Mark said, moving his fingers on her thigh slowly closer to the core of her feminity. “I wanted to make this take forever. But I don’t think I can.”

  How honest he was. How vulnerable and honest. “We have the night. We do, don’t we?”

  “Oh, yes, Kim. We have the night.”

  Yes! This was right. This was wonderful. Mark was moving, slowly at first, and then with more power. Kim clung to him with her spine arched toward him and her tongue taking in his taste.

  She was losing herself. She’d wanted to cling to the world, to savor the sweetness of his giving of himself to her. But his surrender became hers and they went together.

  “You’re crying?”

  “I am?”

  “Tears. I can taste your tears.”

  Inch by inch Kim pulled herself back from where Mark had taken her. He was lying beside her now, with a leg still over her and an arm resting on her breasts. He was weight and substance, and power. Again he touched his tongue to her lashes.

  “I don’t feel like crying,” she told him.

  “I hope not.” There was no need for him to whisper, and yet he was. “I don’t ever want to make you cry, Kim.”

  That might not be possible. It was a world of action and emotion. Maybe that explained her tears. But her tears were tears of joy. “You haven’t had dinner,” she remembered. “I—we didn’t take time for that.”

  “As long as we had time for the important thing.” Mark shifted position, not to leave her, but to catch a nipple between his teeth and draw it into his mouth. Kim’s spine arched. With that touch she wanted him again.

  “Don’t do that if you want to get out of this bed.”

  “I don’t care. Maybe we’ll stay here forever.”

  They didn’t eat until midnight. Wearing the shirt Mark had worn to work that day, Kim carried two Mexican dinners from the microwave to the table. She was aware of Mark’s eyes on her legs, but there was no modesty left in her. For hours Mark had explored her, come to know every inch of her. She’d done the same with him. This might not be the first night they’d spent together, but the exploration had been new. Now she could look at him and know there was no doubt.

  She was in love.

  “Is this what you eat when you’re alone?” she asked.

  Mark picked at the beans and melting cheese. “Sometimes. But never this late. We might regret this.”

  “We might.” Kim picked up a forkful of enchilada and swallowed. She was starved. “I’ll take the risk,” she finished.

  Mark ate more slowly, watching her. “Is that what making love does to you? You should have fixed yourself more.”

  “Maybe I will. Aren’t you hungry?”

  Mark nodded, but not because he was aware of what his stomach was trying to tell him. By the kitchen clock, it was now 12:13 a.m. There were memories, wonderful memories of playing with Kim’s body until play would no longer suffice and his need took him into her. He still tasted the salt of her tears. His fingers remembered the feel of her soft flesh over bone and muscle. His heart carried the memory of her murmured cries.

  His heart. There was a great deal more in his heart than a memory. He was awakening, coming out of a slumber he hadn’t known had claimed him. He, Mark Stockton, was a man in love.

  “Kim? Why did you come here tonight?”

  “Isn’t that obvious?”

  Mark smiled easily. She wanted him. Incredible as it was, she honestly wanted him. He-would say what had to be said and risk losing that to be worthy of it. “That wasn’t the only reason.”

  The shadow was there. Where it had come from and why the transformation had to be so complete, Mark would never fully understand.

  “No,” she was telling him. “No. The other night, when we couldn’t be together, you said you were with a client. Was it my grandmother?”

  He didn’t want to answer. With all his heart, Mark didn’t want to take that risk. But his alternative was to lie, and he couldn’t do that. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” She barely got the word out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t, Kim. Lawyer/client confidentiality.”

  “But I’m her granddaughter.”

  “That’s precisely why I couldn’t tell you. She asked me not to.”

  “That’s all you’re going to tell me, isn’t it?”

  Mark took Kim’s hand, waited until she dropped the fork and then lifted her fingers to his lips. Across the table their eyes met. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything more.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Can’t. Kim, your grandmother’s easily upset these days. She trusts me. There are certain things I’m trying to do to calm her.”

  “Wait,” Kim interrupted. “What is she upset about? Money. It’s money, isn’t it?”

  Mark shook his head but kept the eye contact. “Don’t, Kim. Don’t ask me questions I can’t answer.”

  Because the conversation was about a woman she loved, Kim couldn’t honor his request. “She should be confiding in me. We could always talk.”

  “It’ll happen again. Just give her time.”

  “Time?” Kim repeated. “For what?”

  Mark just shook his head. That was one thing he couldn’t tell her.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I don’t want you back in that place.”

  Kim continued working on her hair with Mark’s comb. She understood his concern, however, she was unable to comply with his request. While Mark shaved, she explained that one of the two security firms wanted more information than they’d gotten during their first tour of the museum. “What if I make sure t
here’s always someone around me. I could get one of the gray-haired volunteers to ride shotgun.”

  “It isn’t funny, Kim.”

  Mark was right; it wasn’t funny. Neither did she believe the situation as serious as Mark and Charles did. “I just don’t see violence in any of those people,” she told him as she was getting ready to leave. “Greed, maybe. All right. Definitely greed. But someone who has a taste for fine antiques isn’t going to hit anyone over the head.”

  “You don’t know that.” Mark stopped Kim from opening the door. “Tonight?” he asked. “I’m free. No meetings. Time for us to be together. Maybe we could go to a movie and out to dinner.”

  Kim wanted that more than she was able to tell Mark. She reached up for his kiss and wound up clinging to him with a desperation she barely understood. She wanted to trust this man; she felt the same need in him.

  But something stood between them, and unless the barrier was knocked down, Kim was afraid of the consequences. She suggested a comedy she’d heard about and dropped a hint about Chinese food. Using that conversation as an excuse, Kim managed to remain in Mark’s arms a few more minutes, but then it was time for her to leave.

  Kim turned her thoughts to what had been good about the night. They’d made love with a freedom and closeness that hadn’t been possible when they were new with each other.

  And then she’d asked a question he couldn’t fully answer and that closeness had been compromised.

  Before going to the museum, Kim wanted to run home for a change of clothes and to call her grandmother. She parked her rental car near the cave-in and got out. Before she’d taken more than a couple of steps, a truck bearing a load of gravel rumbled toward her. Kim held up a hand to stop them. When the driver rolled down his window, she explained that they would have to go around and use California Street.

  “That’s not what we were told,” the driver informed her. “We’re supposed to deposit this at 431 Rich Gulch. Something about the owners having to put in a new driveway because of this hole you’ve got here.”

  They were talking about the only other residents on Rich Gulch Street. Kim explained that the new driveway, if one was actually going to be constructed, would exit on California Street. “I don’t know who told you to try to get around the cave-in, but it isn’t going to work. There’s no way you can safely do that. That’s what the barriers are for.”

  “It looks to me as if there’s room.” The driver pointed at what was left of the street and shoulder. “Look, this way we’ve got a straight shot. California Street, it’s on a hill. We’re going to have a devil of a time dumping the load.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kim stood firm. “An engineer and the city attorney have been down there. They don’t want any more weight than necessary on the street.”

  “That’s not what I was told.”

  “By who?”

  “By the guy who owns the house, I guess. Look, I know how to be careful. I’ve had this business for fifteen years.”

  “I really don’t think it’s safe. The police have let a few vehicles past the barriers, but nothing as heavy as what you’re driving.”

  The driver stared at the cave-in for the better part of a minute. Finally he muttered something about making a phone call and wandered away. Kim shook her head in exasperation. Technically speaking, the dump truck probably could get around the cave-in, but only a fool would take the risk. She hadn’t talked to the only other residents of Rich Gulch Street, but it surprised her that they were going ahead with rerouting their driveway already. There was a good chance that next week’s council meeting would decide in their favor and resolve the whole issue.

  At least the confrontation with the truck driver gave Kim something else to think about. She quickly changed clothes and then called her grandmother. “I was out late. I thought you might have tried to call me.”

  “I did, once. You’re all right, aren’t you, honey?”

  “Yes, Grandmother, I’m all right.” This wasn’t like her grandmother. Margaret Revis had been the next thing to a permissive parent, believing that children, and grandchildren, learned by making their own mistakes. “You never used to be such a worrywart.”

  “I know.” Margaret’s laugh sounded hollow. “It’s just that so many things these days are out of my control.”

  “You don’t have to take responsibility for everything, Grandmother,” Kim said. “That’s what we have a police chief and town council and lawyers for.”

  “I know that.” Margaret sighed. “I just—oh, honey, I worry about you.”

  “Don’t.” Kim sank deeper into her chair and closed her eyes. For the first time in her life she felt as if she was the adult and her grandmother the child. The love she felt was just as fierce as it had always been. Only now it was tempered with a sense of responsibility that hadn’t been there before. “Grandmother, I know you don’t like the idea of me doing what I’m doing at the museum, but believe me, I’m being well taken care of. Both Mark and Charles have given me lectures about keeping my eyes open. Things are fine.”

  Margaret sighed again; this time there was a quiet sob in the sound. “That’s not all—I wish you wouldn’t feel so responsible for the house. I can get someone else to take care of it.”

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Kim managed around the knot of concern growing inside her. “I feel like a dog guarding a bone. I’m not about to let anyone pull a fast one on me. Grandmother, you would have been proud of me. Some fool truck driver was going to try to drive around the cave-in. Can you believe that?”

  “That damn cave-in. Kim?”

  Kim didn’t breathe. “What?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know what I was going to say. When will I see you again?”

  Kim promised to come by later in the day and then found a way to say goodbye. She got to her feet and walked outside, her head pounding. Not enough had been said; too much was still hidden.

  Her grandmother was scared. Kim had no idea why.

  Margaret Revis had sworn. Kim had never heard an oath from her before.

  The cave-in. Kim stopped.

  She could go to the museum a little later, after she’d answered some questions. The tunnel had held a skeleton and a rusted pocketknife. When Kim had mentioned the skeleton, Mark and her grandmother had exchanged looks she couldn’t begin to understand. Margaret had turned white at the mention of something she should have been able to shrug off.

  Mark hadn’t wanted her to go down there. He hadn’t wanted her to tell her grandmother about the knife she found; he’d been adamant about that.

  One branch of the tunnel went onto Revis property.

  Lawyer/client confidentiality, Mark had called it. It didn’t make sense; none of this did.

  Mark had to honor his client’s request, but Kim didn’t. She stepped to the edge of the tunnel and dropped to her knees. Some gut instinct told her that the answer, if there was one, was in the tunnel. She’d been through her grandmother’s house and found nothing that she didn’t already know about. She’d seen her grandmother’s will. She knew about the savings accounts, the old bonds in a safety-deposit box. There was nothing for Mark to keep from her.

  Or was there?

  One branch of the tunnel went through Revis property.

  Kim rose, walked to her car, pulled the flashlight out of the glove compartment and returned to the ragged asphalt. For the second time she dropped to her knees. Then she slid around and lowered herself into the hole.

  The floor of the cave-in felt a little warmer than it had the first time Kim had gone down there, but maybe that was because she was concentrating on her destination and not the narrow corridor’s impact. Her shoes weren’t the best for crawling, but Kim didn’t intend to spend much time down there. Her plan, if it could be called that, was to go beyond the “room” where they’d found the skeleton. What she expected to find, Kim had no idea.

  Kim was at the “room” in a matter of minutes. The total silence had already made its impact
on her nerves, but she swallowed down whatever was trying to crawl up her throat and continued onward. The opening narrowed, forcing Kim to propel herself forward with toes and elbows. She was breathing heavily, a little giddy because the air was stale. At every bend in the tunnel, Kim told herself this would be the last one. She was no longer sure where she was and even less sure of how she was going to turn around.

  She kept herself sane by thinking about the man who’d dug the tunnel. Had he been someone Margaret and Dow knew? Had—the question grew—had Dow been that long ago miner?

  Dow Revis wasn’t a wealthy man, not like the father of his wife’s children. Had he been one of those men who clawed their way through the earth for the gold that would feed those dependent on them?

  Was that it? Dow Revis had dug this tunnel and neither he nor his wife had told the children and now Margaret Revis was afraid the secret could no longer be kept?

  Oh, Grandmother. It doesn’t matter. He was a good man. He did the only thing he could.

  Finally the tunnel became so narrow that Kim was in danger of becoming stuck. From what she could see, it ended a few feet farther on. Breathing deeply in an attempt to hold her growing claustrophobia at bay, she started to back up. Dow Revis was down here with her. In spirit anyway. He would keep her safe. And when she reached the surface, Kim would go to her grandmother and gently ask for the truth.

  The reverse journey went slower and left Kim with too much time to think about the insanity of what she’d just done. She’d lost all sense of time. With nothing but night around, she was no longer sure whether she’d slipped back through the years or not. How long had she been down here?

  Kim breathed a little easier when she was able to turn around. Her thoughts were on getting a shower, doing what little she needed to at the museum today, talking to her grandmother.

  Telling Mark—telling Mark what?

  Kim was past the “room” now. In no more than three minutes, she would be piling up the broken asphalt until she had enough of a step to reach for the pavement. A quick hoist and she would be in the sunlight.