Clicking Stones

by Nancy Tyler Glenn

  * * * *

  Erica was nursing her head and a cup of black coffee when Kelly opened her eyes.

  "I hope I'm not going to be sick." Kelly got up from the sofa and staggered into the bathroom.

  Erica lifted herself careful not to jolt her throbbing head, and walked into the kitchen to get Kelly a cup of coffee.

  When Kelly came back she took the cup gratefully. "You were really smashed last night."

  "I know," Erica admitted. "I don't remember anything after singing Little Stones Mean a Lot."

  "You raved about Morgan for three hours."

  "You mean Marty," Erica corrected.

  Kelly shook her head. "Morgan." She reached down between the cushions of the sofa. "You were going to throw this down the garbage disposal, but I thought you would be sorry today." She handed Erica a ruby ring with little chipped diamonds.

  ~ Chapter 13 ~

  Erica had been anxious all morning. She sat where she could watch for the mailman. When the phone rang she ran to answer it.

  "Erica, are you all right?" Mike sounded concerned.

  "I guess I am a little edgy. I haven't heard from Marty this week."

  "Guy is on his way over to see you," Mike said.

  "What's up?"

  "He didn't say." Mike's voice sounded guarded. "Erica..." He hesitated. "We all love you and need you."

  A feeling of apprehension came over her. "Mike, is anything wrong?"

  "I just want you to be happy."

  Erica put down the receiver and fought back tears until the mail arrived.

  She sorted through the envelopes until she found the one she was looking for. Tears were streaming down her face.

  * * * *

  August 5, 1958

  My darling Erica,

  I'm sorry. I would do anything not to hurt you.

  When I first got involved with Charlotte I thought it was just a flirtation. I missed you so much and was feeling very lonely. I could never have known I would fall in love with her. Please forgive me.

  Charlotte is helping me get into Officers' Candidate School. After graduation she thinks I can get stationed here at Fort McClellan.

  If you will put my things into boxes I will have my brother pick them up. I'm sorry to put you to this trouble.

  Please be happy. You are so lovely. Thank you for the joy you have given me. Part of me will always love you.

  Marty

  * * * *

  Erica stared at the letter numbly. "It's not true," she heard herself say. "It can't be true."

  When she saw Guy, Erica felt her fury rise. "You knew!" Her fists pummeled his chest. "You and Mike knew!"

  "Erica." Guy put his arms around her. "There was nothing we could do. Mike was furious. He called her when she wrote to him about it."

  "Why... why didn't you warn me?" Erica sobbed. "I could have gone to her. I could have talked to her.

  Guy led her to the sofa and sat next to her. "It wouldn't do any good, Erica. Believe me, I've known Marty for years. She's very fickle."

  "No!" Erica shouted. "She loves me. Every letter she's written is full of love. She's confused. I have to see her and talk to her. She can't throw away what we have. It's a stupid flirtation. Guy, help me! What am I going to do? I love her so much." Fresh tears poured down her face.

  Guy put his arm around her. "I know how unhappy you are."

  Erica pulled away from him and sat up. "You couldn't know." She reached for a cigarette and lit it. "It's strange, I was upset all morning and when the mailman came I started crying even before I saw the letter."

  "You're very psychic," Guy said.

  "I... I think I need to be alone for a while," Erica said.

  "Mike doesn't want you to be alone. He asked me to bring you to the house."

  "I'll be OK," Erica assured him. "Maybe I'll come over a little later. Right now I want to sort out my thoughts."

  Guy got up to leave. "If there is anything we can do call us. Promise?"

  Erica nodded.

  "I'll tell Mike you'll be over later." He bent over and kissed her cheek.

  When Guy was gone Erica slumped over. "Oh, Marty," she sobbed.

  * * * *

  When Mike opened the door his face paled. "What have you done to your hair?" His hand flew to his face.

  "I cut it." Erica made a full turn so he could see the back.

  "With what?" Mike pulled her into the house. "Guy, Guy!" he shouted. "Guy, call Clay and tell him to get over here right now. Tell him it's an emergency."

  Guy came into the room. "What's the mat-" He stopped and put his hands on his hips. "Well, don't we look butch!"

  Mike was shaken. "Tell Clay to come over and bring his scissors."

  "Isn't it short enough?" Erica asked sweetly.

  "Very funny," Mike said sourly. "I knew Guy shouldn't have left you alone. What have you done to your image?"

  Guy came back into the room. "Clay said he can be here in about an hour."

  "I think I'm hungry," Erica reported. "The fried chicken smells wonderful."

  Guy put his arm around her. "I made apple pie, too." Then he bent down and whispered, "I like it, and I think it makes you look sexier."

  * * * *

  The slender hairdresser ran his fingers through Erica's hair. "I think we can do something with it, maybe a pixie."

  "Don't you dare," Erica warned. "I didn't get rid of Mike's sweet, innocent and trusting image to end up looking like an elf."

  "He's just going to soften it a little," Mike said. "I can't have you looking like a truck driver."

  "What difference does it make?"

  "Since you've lost the innocent look, I assume you've also lost your innocence," Mike retorted. "That look was very appealing to our clientele. You're too young to give you a minister image."

  Erica looked at him. "Maybe I should grow a moustache. That should make me look older."

  "I'm going to kill that Marty," Mike groaned.

  The mention of Marty's name changed Erica's mood. Silently she submitted.

  When Clay was finished, Mike took Erica's chin in his hand. "Smile," he instructed.

  Erica grimaced.

  "It will do."

  Erica looked in the mirror and pushed the hair back over her ears, "I guess everyone's happy now."

  Guy served Erica a huge piece of apple pie with two scoops of vanilla ice cream. "I made up the guest room. Stay here tonight and leave in the morning."

  "Do you have an alarm clock I can use?" Erica eyed the pie and then attacked it hungrily.

  Erica had a difficult time sleeping in a strange room. It reminded her of her first night at Nelson. She thought about Marty and cried. Finally she drifted into a fitful sleep.

  It was still dark when the alarm awakened her. She dressed quietly and tiptoed out of the house.

  ~ Chapter 14 ~

  Erica had never driven to the cabin by herself, had never driven anywhere outside of Los Angeles County alone. Her sense of freedom grew as the highway opened up before her. She felt a kinship only with those few and occasional travelers sharing the road with her. This was a different world. The apartment she had shared with Marty, and all its memories, were left in the miles behind.

  She stopped at an all-night diner and drank coffee contentedly while she waited for her hamburger. She paid the check, experiencing pleasure with the realization that it was her money, her diner, and outside was waiting her car, her road and her world. She left a generous tip.

  * * * *

  Erica got out of her car and walked toward her father who waited on the porch. With each step the anguish of her recent loss grew; tears spilled down her face.

  Her father reached out to her. She collapsed into his arms. "Daddy, I'm so unhappy."

  "Punkin, it's going to be all right," Ross soothed her.

  The love in his voice produced an even greater outburst. The words tumbled out of her. "I'm alone, Marty left me, Mom hates me, I want to run away, and I don't know where to go."


  Ross held his daughter, feeling helpless as he always did when she cried. When the tears diminished he gently led her into the cabin and into the kitchen.

  Erica sat gripping a steaming mug of coffee with both hands and staring at a place where the paint had started chipping off the tabletop. She told Ross about Marty, their love, the betrayal, the loneliness. She told him about the conversation with her mother, the rejection. Last of all she told him about Mike and the Stone Clicking meetings. She concluded, "Clicking Stones seems to help other people."

  He smiled. "I always thought it might."

  Erica looked surprised. "You knew about the Stones?"

  Ross nodded. "It would have been hard not to know. Parents have an advantage." He pushed back his chair. "I want to show you something." He took a flashlight from the cupboard.

  Puzzled, Erica followed him outside. He led her around to the back of the cabin to the path she had taken as a child.

  She pulled back. "I'm afraid to go in there. The old woman told me I would come back one day and go to the end. I've always associated it with death."

  "We aren't going all the way, just past the barrier."

  The farther they walked the darker it got. Ross switched on the flashlight.

  "We don't need that, I have my..." Erica suddenly remembered that her Stone was of no use to her father.

  "Has anyone who couldn't see the light suddenly acquired the ability?" Ross asked.

  "Not to my knowledge."

  Ross bent down and picked up a stone. "What is it you used to say? Click me?"

  Erica tapped the stone and it burst into light. "It always amazes me that people can't see it. It's so brilliant."

  Ross looked at the Stone. "I tried for years, it used to drive me crazy. I can sense it; that is, I know when a Stone has been Clicked. I don't know how I know, but I know."

  "You're a Wit," Erica told him. "Wits are people who can't see light, feel energy or hear sounds but know when a Stone is lit. It's an archaic term meaning to know or..."

  "I know the term," Ross assured her.

  As they approached the soft wall Ross said, "I go through the barrier and then sit down."

  Erica took his hand and they pushed through the soft wall together. They sat facing each other. The air began to churn.

  The air quieted, and Erica started thinking about Marty. The air churned again and as she thought about Marty making love to another woman, writing the letter, looking into the eyes of another with the look meant only for her, the wind became stronger. For what seemed like hours the images came to Erica's mind and with each new image the storm became even more violent. When images of Marty left it was suddenly quiet.

  Erica asked Ross, "Do you do this often?"

  "No," Ross laughed. "My life here is fairly peaceful."

  "It must be noon," Erica observed. "How many hours have we been here?"

  Ross looked at his watch. "About three minutes."

  Erica was surprised, then remembered the similar sensation when she was a child. "How can you stand to sit in the storm?" she asked. "It was so turbulent I thought it would blow my head off."

  "For me it was relatively calm," Ross said. "It churned up a bit when I saw the anguish on your face."

  The air began to stir again, and Ross noticed a look of pain in Erica's eyes. "What is it?"

  "I was just thinking how much I wanted to show Marty the cabin. We always intended to come up here but never found the time. Thinking about the things we didn't do hurts as much as thinking about the things we did do together."

  "Usually those things we don't do hurt more." Then in a lighter tone Ross said, "Let's go crack some eggs. I haven't had breakfast yet."

  Together they pushed through the barrier and walked back to the cabin.

  Food had never tasted better to Erica. She slathered her toast with homemade strawberry preserves. "Where did you get this stuff?" She held up the jar.

  "Jenny, Bob Nye's daughter, made them."

  "The old guy who owns that little store in Amy's Valley?"

  Ross chuckled. "That old guy is only ten years older than I am. I've Clicked with him, and he sees the light."

  Erica's eyes widened. "I didn't know you had Clicked with anyone but me."

  "Only Bob. He comes up here in the evenings sometimes. He helps me keep the old Chevy running. Sometimes when it gets late we Click that big boulder out front. That way he keeps working long after dark. It always baffles me."

  "He's a Lantern then."

  Ross got up and started clearing the table. "Is that what you call people who see the light, Lanterns?"

  "Lanterns or Lamps. Both can see the light but the Lamps have a commitment to keep their Stones lit at all times and to bring new people to the meetings."

  Ross filled the sink with hot soapy water and put the dishes in to soak. "Who makes these distinctions?"

  Erica lit a cigarette. "I don't know how it started. Maybe Mike did, he likes everything categorized."

  Ross poured himself another cup of coffee. "What motivates these Lamps?"

  "I guess all the talk about paid staff positions at Central," Erica surmised. "Mike has Tenders doing most of the work, but he claims we're going to open centers in several cities and he'll need people to fill key positions."

  "Wait a minute." Ross got up and went into the other room and came back with a paper and pencil. "This is like learning a new language. Explain to me again the different terms and distinctions."

  Erica explained and Ross wrote:

  STONE CLICKING

  LAMPS:See light, have commitment to promote.

  LANTERNS: See light.

  AUROTICS:Hear sounds from Stones.

  WITS: Know when Stone is Clicked.

  DUKES: Feel energy emanating from Stones.

  TENDERS: Do not see, hear, feel, sense Stones but do volunteer work.

  FIAT LUX: (Let there be light) chanted at the end of the meetings.

  Ross studied the glossary of terms. "Is Mike trying to make a cult out of Stone Clicking?"

  "Do you think so?"

  "I want to show you something." He led her into the main room of the cabin which was now his study. He opened a scrapbook. "A friend of mine sent me a clipping some time ago. He recognized your name and thought I might be interested. After that I had my clipping service work on it."

  Erica read the first page:

  LADY OF LIGHT REVEALS SECRETS

  Erica Demar, a gifted young woman, will share her amazing talent of causing light to emanate from ordinary stones simply by tapping them.

  "I've never seen this before." Erica was shaken.

  "Turn the page," her father instructed.

  Erica looked through the scrapbook. "I don't understand. We've never had anyone from the press at our meetings."

  "Do you read newspapers?" Ross asked.

  "No," Erica confessed, "I never got into the habit."

  "These are press releases, sent to the paper by people promoting events. They use them as fillers. I'm surprised so many were printed."

  Erica closed the book. "Thank you for showing me this. I'm going to tell Mike not to do it anymore."

  He put the book back on the shelf. "Let's get the dishes done. Wash or dry?"

  Erica spent the rest of the day rediscovering the special places she had known as a child. Occasionally, when her thoughts would slip into memories of Marty, just thinking about the peace she had found beyond the soft wall calmed her.

  After dinner Erica and Ross sat on the porch and watched the sunset.

  "I forgot how beautiful it is here," Erica sighed. "I'd like to come here more often."

  "Do," Ross encouraged her. "The cabin is yours. When we bought it your mother and I planned to build a larger cabin so when we retired you would have a place for your own family."