Down the Throat of the Mountain
Page 21
"I'm sorry," Janie said again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry."
Chapter 56
The sky was the piss yellow of dawn when Nancy Essing dropped Janie off at her Taurus in the parking lot next to Long Shot, Inc. The air smelled of ash.
Firemen sprayed the woods behind the building. The sheriff loitered next to his SUV. The crowd outside the casino was liquored up and rowdy: oblivious, all of them, to the real drama.
"Are you sure you're okay?" said Mrs. Essing.
"Yup."
"You really shouldn't be alone."
"I'm fine. You've been really nice, but you should take care of Andrea."
Andrea had gone to the hospital in an ambulance, sitting bolt upright on the stretcher. Her leg was probably broken.
Every inch of Janie's body ached as she climbed out of Mrs. Essing's car and hobbled to her own. Janie fell into the driver's seat, reached for her purse on the passenger seat to dig out the keys, then slumped back in her seat, exhausted.
I should be dead, she thought. She felt a million years old.
In the mirror, she watched Andrea 's mother leave for the hospital in Boulder, then she leaned forward and opened the ash tray. The suggestion of an eye peered up at her: The Golden bear. The Family Treasure. The Curse.
She slammed it shut again and turned the ignition. The car hiccupped to life, and Janie drove back to her dog, her home. Yes, she was alive, but she didn't feel like it.
Chapter 57
A month later, Janie stood in the snow by the cave's upper entrance, breathing deeply to get her courage up. The air was icy and clean. No hint of that peculiar dirty cookies odor that used to muddle her mind and slow her step. Still, she had to force herself to climb down through the bars into the cavern. It was awkward in her winter boots. Her fleece mittens froze to the rock.
This time, she'd brought a huge flashlight to light her way, but as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other, everything outside of its sunny glow seemed foreign and threatening.
As she neared the shaft, she stopped and pulled the Golden Bear out of her jacket pocket. She had planned to have a ceremony, to think profound thoughts, to heal, to say goodbye to Aunt M and Ron and the girl she'd never known who had been Pete's daughter, to wish them well in the world beyond.
But all of that flew out of her head when she crept to the edge of the shaft. Icicles like giant teeth lined its mouth. Janie lost her footing on the thin sheen of ice and nearly fell. Her heart raced as she imagined skidding over the edge and tumbling to her death. No one knew she was there. No one would even look for her for months.
In two weeks, she'd only had one phone call. A wrong number, probably. A man's voice had said "Sorry," and then he'd hung up. Janie had tried to find meaning in that. Was it George, apologizing for the end of their little affair? Was it Pete, too shy to talk? Maybe her dad, trying to reach her from behind the veil?
Or was it just some person, some random person, who'd misdialed and had no idea he'd been the highlight of Janie's week?
Janie took one last glance at the bear and pitched it into the abyss. It clacked off the ice and clattered down the shaft. Then she fled.
Chapter 58
The atmosphere was almost carnival. A young woman sold kettle corn from a cart. Parents restrained excited children by their hands. Roxy and Charlie's friends tore open a 12-pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Roxy was there in a wheelchair, looking pale and a little confused. Charlie bent to tuck her blanket around her legs. Janie tried not to stare. People seemed to think Roxy would recover completely. Janie wasn't so sure. Roxy's bounce was gone.
Even though Janie should have been at the center of it all on this day, she felt an invisible wall between her and the rest of humanity. It wasn't supposed to feel that way, was it?
Lacey bucked in surprise when she saw Pete, then galloped forward, tail pumping so hard she skittered sideways.
Unlike Lacey, Janie had suspected she might run into him here. She realized she'd kind of been looking forward to it. Part of her had hoped: a dull hope, not a shiny optimistic hope.
Pete bent down to fondle Lacey's ears, then strolled up, grinning. Actually grinning!
"I was hoping I'd see you here," he said.
Her mouth melted into a matching grin.
"Me too," she blurted. Oh, crap. Now her eyes were welling up. Why? Why?
"How's your, ah, Jeff?" she asked.
"Dad is good. I'm in the septic business now. You know, port-o-potties. He helps with that. And he sold a couple of sculptures. People seem to like them."
Lacey pawed him in the thigh and he bent down to scratch her again.
Janie gazed through the chain link fence at the abandoned building, the soot stains, the broken windows, the worn sandstone. The road was blocked off and the casino was closed for the day.
Janie glanced at her watch. Any second now. She scanned the street to make sure everyone was out of the way.
Roxy's friends started a countdown.
Pete reached over and slowly, carefully, rested his hand on her shoulder.
BOOM!
Lacey yelped and cowered into Janie's knees.
Another boom, and the ruins of the old Long Shot Hotel crumbled inward in slow-motion.
Pete gave her a quick squeeze. She couldn't take her eyes off the hotel. She'd stopped breathing.
In a matter of seconds, it was over. Around them, people were cheering and whistling.
"Awesome!" said one of the beer drinkers. They clinked their cans together.
"Woohoo!" One last, tardy shout.
A cloud of sulfurous dust roiled their way, enveloped the spectators, the casino, blanked out the mountainside for a moment. Then people were folding up their lawn chairs, walking away, starting their cars.
Still, Janie lingered, eyes locked on the pile of rubble where the hotel had just stood, feeling the luxury of Pete's hand on her shoulder, Lacey's warm flank pressed against her legs. What was next, she wondered? Money wasn't a problem, thanks to Aunt M, but now that it was all over, she had to decide what she wanted to do with her life, and that was such a lonely feeling.
Pete leaned into her field of vision, scowling. It was the friendly scowl, not the angry one.
"I hear you're going to college in the fall."
She shrugged.
"Well, maybe you could come around on weekends, spend some time with us…We could fight like a real family."
She snorted, turned her head away, and when she was sure she wouldn't cry, she mumbled, "That would be good."
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Also by Jennifer Erickson:
What I Dreamt Last Night