Stranger With My Face

by Lois Duncan

  Meg was on her feet in a flash.

  “That’s Kimmie! She promised she’d call as soon as she got her presents opened!” A moment later, however, she was saying, “No, he isn’t. No, he hasn’t been here. Do you want to talk to my sister?” She turned to me, extending the receiver. “It’s Mr. Rankin.”

  “Jeff ’s father?” As I took the phone from her hand, I found that my own was shaking. “Hello,” I said. “This is Laurie.”

  “Pete Rankin here,” an unfamiliar voice boomed. “I’m trying to track down my wandering son. Do you know where he might be?”

  “No,” I told him. “I haven’t seen or even talked with Jeff since yesterday.”

  “What time did he leave your place last night?”

  “He didn’t,” I said. “I mean, he was never here.”

  “That’s odd. I thought he was going to be eating dinner with you.”

  “He was,” I said, “but he never came. We thought he might have forgotten.”

  “He didn’t forget,” Mr. Rankin said. “He was happy about the invitation. It was the last thing he told me as I was leaving.”

  “Then why didn’t he come? And why did he let you think that he did?”

  Nothing about the situation made sense.

  “I haven’t seen Jeff since yesterday,” Mr. Rankin told me. “I missed the last ferry and stayed over on the mainland with a friend. I tried to give Jeff a call, but I couldn’t get an answer.”

  “And he isn’t home now?”

  “Doesn’t seem to be. I just got here myself ten minutes ago. I don’t know where he could have run off to this early. There’s no answer on his cell phone, of course. I thought maybe he’d talked to you about his plans.”

  “I didn’t see him last night.” I repeated the statement numbly. “I don’t know where he is.”

  “Well, no problem. I’ll call around and see if I can find him. He’s probably at somebody’s house. There was a party or something last night, wasn’t there? I heard some kids on the ferry talking about it. Maybe he went to that and wound up going home with somebody.”

  “The party was at the Colesons’,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure that Jeff didn’t go.”

  “You never know. He might have stopped off there on his way to your place and gotten roped in somehow. I know how those things can happen. I was a teenager once myself.” He didn’t sound worried. “If he turns up there, you have him call me, okay? Meanwhile, I’ll check with the Colesons.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I will. And if he comes home, please have him call me.”

  The room was strangely silent as I hung up the telephone. Even Megan for once had her mouth closed.

  “Jeff is missing,” I told them.

  “What do you mean?” Dad said. “He’s been gone all night?”

  “Mr. Rankin isn’t sure. He wasn’t there himself. He says he just got home, and Jeff isn’t there.”

  “Maybe he got up early and went off someplace,” Neal said.

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “Still, when you add in the fact that he didn’t show up here last night, it starts to get scary.”

  “What was all that about the Colesons?” Mom asked.

  “Nat threw a party yesterday. Mr. Rankin’s going to check and see if Jeff was there.”

  “Perhaps he was,” Dad said. “Maybe he thought a party would be more fun than sitting around here on a holiday evening. It’s a possibility.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I said firmly. “It just isn’t. Jeff doesn’t run with Nat’s crowd. He’s a loner. He has been ever since his accident. Natalie wouldn’t have invited him, and if she had, he wouldn’t have accepted.”

  “Let’s take the bikes and ride into the village,” Neal suggested. “That way we can check out the road.”

  “Good idea,” I said gratefully.Taking action of any kind was better than staying at home doing nothing.

  “I don’t think you’ll accomplish much that way,” Mom said. “Jeff was invited for five thirty, when it was still light out. All he had to do was walk Beach Road from the village to Cliff House. I can’t believe he could have run into any problems along that short strip.”

  “Look what happened to Helen,” I reminded her. “All she had to do was get out of a cab and walk into her house. Crazy things do sometimes happen to people.”

  “Yes, they do,” Mom acknowledged. Then she added softly, “I guess I just don’t want to face the possibility. It seems as though that boy has had enough trouble in his life without something more happening.”

  “Laurie will worry less if she’s out doing something,” Dad said, and Mom nodded.

  “Yes, go ahead, dear. Perhaps he did have some sort of freak accident on his way over here. At any rate, we’ll all feel better if we can rule out that possibility.”

  So Neal and I rode our bikes into the village, and Mom had been right; the trip served no purpose. Somewhere in the back of my mind I suppose I had a picture of Jeff in the same situation as Helen, lying injured and helpless along the roadside, but there was no sign of him, and there wasn’t even any area where an accident might reasonably have occurred. Beach Road was smooth and flat, lined with nothing more threatening than sea oats and beach grass. Any danger spots were along the cliff walks, many yards away. The village, when we reached it, was like a ghost town, with the shops closed and no one on the streets or sidewalks. Neal and I pedaled home feeling as though we were the only two people in the world.

  It was almost noon when we arrived back at Cliff House. We put away the bikes and entered through the back door. The clack of Dad’s computer told us that he was busy making up for the time he had lost the previous evening. I found myself resenting the fact that he could divide his life up so easily. When he was writing he wasn’t worried about anything or anyone except the people in his book.

  Mom was in the living room feeding used Christmas wrapping paper into the fireplace. She answered my question before I could ask it.

  “No, Mr. Rankin hasn’t called back.”

  “Do you think I should call him?”

  “No, I don’t,” Mom said. “When there’s news, he’ll let you know, and until then it’s better that his line stays open in case Jeff tries to reach him.” There was sympathy in her voice. “There’s nothing to do but wait, honey. I know how hard that is. Meg’s in the kitchen making lunch. Why don’t you and Neal go get something?”

  “I’m not hungry,” I said.

  “Then how about helping me with this cleanup? Like Dad said, it’s better if you can keep yourself busy.”

  So for the next quarter hour I picked up boxes and paper and ribbons and helped Mom burn them. Then I collected the gifts I had received that morning and carried them to my room. On any other such occasion I would have taken this opportunity to examine and enjoy them, but today I merely piled them into the bookcase and dresser. Then I just stood there, at a loss as to what to do with myself. The long afternoon lay ahead of me, and then the evening. Surely there would be word of Jeff ’s whereabouts by dinnertime. He had to go home to eat, didn’t he? Or, if he didn’t, he would call his father. He had probably gone off somewhere, not even pausing to think that he would be worrying anyone. But—

  But where on earth could someone find to go on Christmas?

  My head was beginning to ache, and the room seemed suddenly to be closing in on me. Impulsively, I slid open the door and stepped out onto the balcony. The cold salt air struck me, full and damp, and I shivered uncontrollably. It seemed a million years ago that I had stood in this same spot with the September sun streaming down upon me, watching the tiny boats dart across the satin surface of the summer sea.

  Today the ocean was gray and empty. Even now at midday the fog lay thick across it, obscuring the dividing line between the water and sky. I moved to the railing and turned my gaze to the slick, dark rocks below me. “You don’t go out there, do you?” Jeff had asked.

  Now the question in reverse occurred to me. Was it possible that Jeff migh
t have tried to walk out on those rocks last night?

  Of course not, I told myself. Jeff wasn’t stupid. He was completely aware of the danger. He was the one who warned me.

  But—what if he did attempt it? a silent voice screamed within my head. What if for some crazy reason he did?

  He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

  It was at that moment I saw it, a spot of color where no bright color should have been. A touch of red against the dullness of the black and brown and green, it lay beneath me, a little to the left.

  I saw it. And I knew.

  I left the balcony, not even taking time to close the sliding doors, and hurried through my room and down the stairs. Neal and I had left our parkas in the entrance hall. I snatched mine up and was still thrusting my arms into the sleeves as I let myself out into the bleak December afternoon.

  Once outside, I broke into a run along the path by the side of the house. It terminated where it met the rocks, and that was where I found them—two books, set carefully one on top of the other.

  One had a red cover.

  So Jeff hadn’t forgotten, he hadn’t let me down. He had come as he had said he would—this far and no farther. Then he had set down the books and—gone where?

  There could only be one answer. Slowly, I moved across the flat surface of the ledge, my eyes on the drop-off that led to the lower tiers of rock. I knew the spot where Neal had once fallen, and I headed there, bracing myself for what it was that I might find. My legs felt weak, and my mouth was sour with the metallic taste of fear.

  The farther I walked, the slicker the rocks became. The moss growth increased, and the water came surging up through the crevices in bursts of froth. I felt icy foam against my ankles, and the crash of the waves was thunder in my ears.

  I should go back, I knew, and get Dad to come back with me, but I kept moving forward, drawn to face whatever there was to be faced as quickly as possible.

  I never got there.

  Several yards from the edge, a void seemed to gape beneath me. I screamed—I think I screamed—but perhaps I didn’t; perhaps the scream was in my head. My only vivid recollection is of that instant in which I seemed to hang motionless in empty air. Then I went plunging down between two widely spaced rocks into the mermaids’ caverns below.

  The mermaids’ caverns! Megan loved to talk about them during those moments at bedtime when she wanted to make the evenings last a little longer.

  “There are giant rooms,” she would tell us, “lighted with phosphorus, so everything in them glows green. The walls are made of coral, and all over the place there are jewels from pirate treasures. And there are mirrors on the ceilings so the mermaids can look at themselves when they comb their hair.”

  “And what do they do down there after they get their hair taken care of ?” I asked her once, enjoying the sound of the chirping little voice as she kept the story going.

  “They sing a lot,” she said, “and—and—” She paused and frowned thoughtfully. “Actually, I don’t really know, Laurie. I’ve never been down there. Maybe someday one of us will get to go.”

  It’s strange how such thoughts can occur to people in moments of trauma, ridiculous thoughts that make no sense at all. Maybe it’s something that happens in the brain to protect your sanity, a sort of diversion to diffuse the horror of a situation until you regain the strength to handle it. I didn’t lose consciousness. I was aware of everything—of the pain and of the darkness and of the splashing of the water and the sharp, dank odor of fishy things that had never seen the light. I should have been thinking about death, and instead I was thinking about mermaids.

  Now I will know. I will be able to tell Meg what they do all day.

  I closed my eyes to make the darkness seem more natural. I could even believe I was dreaming, especially when a cold hand touched my cheek and the voice of a merman asked softly, “Are you alive?”

  I tried to say, “Yes,” but to my surprise I found that I could not get the word from my mind into my mouth and out past my lips. Maybe I’m dead, I thought. But if so, then I shouldn’t be hurting.

  Experimentally, I opened my eyes and found that I wasn’t in complete blackness after all. There was a faint light coming from somewhere. With effort, I turned my head and found myself gazing at a jagged wedge of overcast sky.

  That’s what I fell through, I thought. Like Alice down the rabbit hole. Except that there was no rabbit. I wasn’t following anyone. What was I doing? I was going to the edge to look over and to see—to see—

  “Are you alive?” the voice asked again, and it was a voice I knew.

  This time I managed to answer.

  “Yes, Jeff, I am.”

  There was silence. Then he said incredulously, “Laurie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Laurie? Is it really you?” The hand explored the outline of my face, moving across my forehead down the ridge of my nose. It touched my lips. “I’m hallucinating, right? I knew that would happen soon. What’s next, pink elephants?”

  “You’re not funny,” I said weakly. “I fell. I went on the rocks, like you said not to, and I stepped in a crevice. We should be dead, shouldn’t we?”

  “Probably,” Jeff said. “God, Laurie, I felt so alone down here. It’s been cold. Is it really you?” The question came out like a sob.

  I managed to raise a hand and take hold of his.

  “I can’t think now,” I said. “We’ll talk in a little while. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Jeff said. “Sure, that’s okay. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  So I let my eyes fall closed, and thought about mermaids with their long wet hair streaming over their shoulders like seaweed as they glided effortlessly through the water-filled passages of their underworld home. They were just as Megan described, and I let myself glide with them. Perhaps I slept a little. Or perhaps this time I did lose consciousness, for I wasn’t aware of how much time was passing.

  When I opened my eyes again, something had changed. My mind was focused more sharply. I tightened my grasp on Jeff ’s hand, and he returned the pressure.

  “Thank god,” he said huskily. “I thought you might be—”

  “No, I’m awake.”

  “How badly hurt are you? Can you sit up?”

  “I can try.”

  “See if you can move closer. The ledge here is wider. There’s less danger of slipping off.”

  The idea of falling farther was terrifying enough to make me try anything. Bracing for the effort, I began to drag myself slowly into a sitting position. Immediately, I realized that the pain that had seemed to be everywhere was concentrated in my right shoulder. I paused, resting my weight for a moment on my left elbow, and then continued to pull myself erect.

  I heard someone making a moaning sound, and then realized that it was coming from me.

  “Is it that bad?” Jeff asked softly.

  “My shoulder hurts. I can’t tell more than that. What about you?”

  “I think I broke my leg,” Jeff said. “Yesterday it hurt like hell. I didn’t think I could stand it. Now, though, it’s gotten sort of numb.”

  “You need a doctor!”

  “A doctor? Laurie, please.”

  “If a broken bone isn’t set, it grows back crooked.”

  I thought I was making such perfect sense that I couldn’t understand the reason for his silence.

  Then Jeff said quietly, “It won’t matter. We’re not getting out of here.”

  “Of course we are,” I said. “We didn’t fall into the middle of the earth. It can’t be more than twelve feet or so to that hole up there, and we’re no more than fifty yards from the back of Cliff House. When I don’t come to dinner, my mom and dad will look for me, and they’ll lower ropes or something and get us out.”

  “Sure, they’ll hunt, but what makes you think they’ll find us?”

  “We’ll make them,” I said. “We’ll yell till they hear us.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried t
hat? Listen to my voice. There’s nothing left of it. All last night I lay here yelling my head off—to you—to my dad—to God, and a lot of good it did. The surf is so loud that somebody would have to be directly over us to be able to hear. As for our being near Cliff House, how does that help? You can’t see the opening in the rocks from there or even from the end of the path. You have to be right on top of it. You know that. You wouldn’t have fallen otherwise.”

  “My parents will find us,” I said stubbornly. “You don’t know my father.”

  “Maybe not, but I do know when something is impossible.” He shifted his position. “Do you think you can move closer?”

  “I can if you help me.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

  “I’ll be okay. Just watch out for my right shoulder.”

  I leaned toward him, and he put his arm around me and began to draw me gently along the rock shelf. A shaft of pain shot through me, and I pressed my lips tightly together to keep from crying out.

  Jeff must have heard my indrawn breath, because he hesitated. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure. We’ve almost made it.”

  “All right, then. Clench your teeth.” He hauled me over the rest of the way, and I settled against him with a sigh of relief. The idea of sliding off into that dark hole was more horrifying than any nightmare I could imagine.

  Now that I was beside him I could feel how cold he was. His body was shaking, and I could hear the chatter of his teeth. I managed to turn enough so that I could get my left hand around to undo the snaps on his jacket. Then I unsnapped my own. I slipped my arms inside the opening in his parka and leaned against his chest so that the warmth of my body would be transferred to his. I could feel the thud of his heart so strong and close that it seemed to belong to both of us. The violence of his shivering frightened me, for it was beyond anything I had ever experienced. No wonder his leg was numb! His circulation must have been nonexistent!

  “How did it happen?” I asked him. “Why were you out here?”

  “You don’t know?” He seemed genuinely surprised.