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by Remember Me


  “I don’t think so,” Ray replied, “but the name Todd Whitmore sounds vaguely familiar.

  I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before, I just can’t place it right now. Maybe Margaret has

  talked about them before.”

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 207

  “I haven’t seen either of them in person, but Margaret did bring their daughter by here a

  couple nights back for a horse ride. She seems like a delightful young girl. Margaret and she

  have been like sisters ever since Margaret tracked her down.”

  “That just doesn’t sound like Margaret,” Ray explained. “She’s been talking about

  coming out there to spend a couple of weeks for months now, but she’s never mentioned trying

  to find one of her friends from high school.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get Margaret in trouble or anything,” Kate assured him, “but she

  has acted a lot different during this trip. She’s been out on the town looking around an awful lot.

  I’m not sure what it is that she’s up to, but she seems pretty preoccupied with whatever she’s

  conjuring up. She’s been quite the little explorer.”

  “Well, at least she’s keeping busy and not trying to build another cabin on one of the far

  corners of your property this time. I guess I’ll give another call later this weekend when she gets

  back from her camping trip. Who all is she up there with?”

  “As it was explained to me, it’s an all girl expedition. Margaret is tagging around with

  Carol and her mother, and there are a lot of other mothers with their daughters going up also. I

  talked to Heather last night to make sure of where they were headed and what their plans were.”

  “Who’s Heather?” Ray asked in a confused voice.

  “She’s Carol’s mother, Heather Whitmore. Maybe Margaret mentioned her?”

  “No, but all these names sound so familiar. It’s going to bug me all night if I can’t place

  where I’ve heard those names before.”

  “Well, don’t worry about it, Ray. I’m sure it doesn’t matter now. I promise you, I left

  Margaret in good hands.”

  “I trust you, Kate. I’ll just call back in a couple of days.”

  “All right, Ray. You take care now.”

  “You, too,” answered the voice right before the click and dial tone came out of the

  receiver.

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 208

  Chapter Thirteen

  Margaret and Carol set up their tent as soon as they reached the campsite. The caravan of

  four cars had arrived at the spot about the same time, and the group of women packed their gear

  in from the road about a half mile. They were the first to the spot, staying ahead of the others.

  Carol wanted to get the best spot.

  The mountains looked beautiful. Margaret understood immediately why this was their

  special spot. She loved the location of the site. They could hear the sound of waves crashing

  against the shores of the small lake several hundred yards away. Margaret and Carol passed it on

  the way to the site. There was something about the lake that she couldn’t place, but it seemed

  almost familiar to her. If it warmed up tomorrow, she would take a dip, she told herself.

  The site sat up against the side of the canyon, just slightly above the bottom. It was a

  small clearing surrounded by thick, dark pines. The trees made it hard to see around them, and

  that meant there was some exploring to do. The air seemed cooler up here, and the smells of the

  forest filled the air around them.

  Margaret and Carol chose a spot on the edge of the camp, trying to separate themselves

  from the rest of the group without looking as if that was their intention. The rest of the tents sat

  closer to the center of the campsite. Heather had decided to bunk up with one of the other

  mothers.

  Margaret realized quite soon what Carol meant when she described the other girls as

  virtuous. That was Carol’s way of saying they were a bunch of spoiled, immature brats. Margaret

  didn’t need to spend much time around them to figure out that. She had no desire to get to know

  any of them any better. There were five other mothers and nine girls, all younger than Carol and

  Margaret.

  In under an hour’s time, the two had their quarters together with all of their gear neatly

  organized around the tent. Margaret tired to relax for a while, but her sense of adventure got the

  best of her and she asked Carol if she wanted to go out exploring the area.

  Carol seemed equally eager to get away from the camp, and the two girls walked over to

  where Heather and her bunk mate struggled to get their tent together. Margaret had to hide the

  smile that forced its way across her face. She could tell that Heather wasn’t as adept for the

  outdoors as she claimed.

  “So what are you two doing first?” Heather asked the girls as they walked up to her. She

  could tell that they were interested in finding something else to do besides sitting around camp.

  “I thought I would show Margaret around the mountainside,” Carol answered her mother.

  Carol acted extremely polite around Heather’s friends, something probably forced on her at birth,

  Margaret thought.

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  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 209

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea. We’ll be starting dinner in a few hours. I’ll probably

  be down at the lake fishing once we get this tent together, so if you come back and nobody’s

  around, you know where to find me.”

  “All right, Mrs. Whitmore,” Margaret answered with a smile. “We’ll make sure we make

  it back before dinner is served.”

  The two girls left the camp in a hurry, eager to get away from the other women and talk

  amongst themselves. Carol led the way, with Margaret keeping up to the excited pace, which the

  younger girl set. She felt glad to get away from the others. Margaret had looked at this weekend

  with enthusiasm, but guilt fell upon her shoulders as she remembered her purpose here. She had

  a hard time facing Heather, even after all that Heather had done to her.

  Their path led them back past the lake, which looked like the perfect paradise to

  Margaret. It was a very large lake, unseen from the road leading to the mountain hideaway, due

  to its high elevation. Its usual cold water kept it clear of algae and mosses, and it had a fresh,

  wonderful smell. She could see several fish rising to feed as evening set in.

  Margaret remained fairly quiet until they reached the area where Carol stopped abruptly.

  They were more than half a mile away from the camp, but had paralleled the road quite closely.

  There was only a short walk down to the base of the gravel. The spot was just a small clearing in

  the trees.

  “This is where I told him to meet me at,” Carol claimed as she looked around at the area,

  with a sparkle in her eye. “He’ll park just a half mile down the road and hike up until he reaches

  the campground marker. Then he’ll make his way up to this spot and we’ll meet.”

  “It’s a lovely spot,” Margaret agreed. “I bet it’ll be really romantic for the two of you.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Margaret. This weekend is going to be the best.”

  “Count on it,” Margaret answered her companion. “I think we’ll all get a lot more
out of

  this weekend than any of us anticipated.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “This really is a beautiful area. Have you and your mom been coming up here for a long

  time?”

  “Since I was old enough to start camping. There’s some great rock climbing up on the

  ridge to the east.”

  “Really,” uttered Margaret with excitement. “I love rock climbing. Take me there, I want

  to see it.”

  “Follow me,” spoke Carol as she took off towards the rocky hills.

  The two girls walked for some time before reaching the hills. Carol led the way up a back

  country trail which was a fairly easy hike. Before long, they had climbed up several hundred feet

  and came near one of the steep hillsides which sloped heavily, down towards rugged cliffs.

  A Novel by Brett Barney Remember Me?

  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 210

  Carol pointed out some of the areas that she had explored before, and Margaret looked on

  intently. She had brought most of her gear with her, and thought that maybe later she would try

  repelling off one of the sides. A drop from here would require some effort, even for an

  experienced climber, and Margaret looked forward to the challenge.

  The two girls walked along the side of the cliffs for some time, looking for the perfect

  spot. While enjoying the scenery, they planned out the course of events for the evening. They

  talked about how they would sneak away from camp and how Margaret would stand guard so

  that Carol could have some time alone with her boyfriend. Carol seemed really nervous as they

  talked, and Margaret knew that she didn’t do this sort of thing very often.

  The two girls walked on for several more minutes. Margaret had stopped paying attention

  to the scenery and become lost in her thoughts again, not even paying attention to what Carol

  talked about. Her mind remained miles away when something out of the corner of her eye

  startled her. She stopped suddenly and stared over the side of a cliff to the valley floor below.

  The shock of the sight before her left Margaret speechless.

  Carol didn’t even notice the condition of her friend. She had stopped to get some water

  from a canteen and looked off at the setting sun in the distance. Margaret stood perfectly still,

  trying to understand the view before her.

  She had seen this same mountainside from the same spot many times before. The only

  difference was that it always appeared dark. It was the same picture that had haunted her dreams

  for years. She stood in wonder, trying to figure out what it all meant. She knew it was a sign of

  something to come.

  Carol looked up at her friend and noticed that the girl’s mood had changed considerably.

  She felt a cold sensation flow through her and wondered what had happened.

  “Is something wrong, Margaret?”

  “I feel like I’ve just seen a ghost,” Margaret answered.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I’m not sure,” answered Margaret. “I just have this feeling.”

  “Have you seen ghosts before?” Carol teased.

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m not one myself.”

  Carol just laughed at the remark as she looked down over the side of the cliff. Carol

  grabbed her by the hand, dragging her away from the cliff side. She seemed familiar with the

  area, and led Margaret a little farther along the ridge to another spot.

  “If you have some ropes to anchor yourself with,” Carol explained. “There’s a way down

  the side of the mountain. There’s a small ledge about thirty feet below us, and some really cool

  spots for exploring. The only thing is that it’s straight down from there, and it isn’t easy to

  maneuver once you’re there. That’s what the ropes are for.

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  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 211

  “The ledge is only about a foot or two wide, but there are a few spots where it widens

  considerably. The broadest spot is right beneath us. Some of the girls say there was once an

  eagle’s next down there, but it’s bare now.

  “The spot below is the only place where you can sit down on the ledge, but it isn’t for the

  faint of heart. You have to hug the mountainside to get to it, and there’s only room for one or two

  people. I usually crawl along the ledge, but we wear the ropes the entire time. It’s a neat little

  spot, I ate lunch there once. There’s a splendid view of the area, and it’s pretty cool to sit on a

  ledge like that. It sounds stupid, but it makes you feel like you’re a hawk or something, and you

  know that nobody else can get to it but you. You can only reach it if you come at it from the right

  hand side. The ledge breaks off from the left, and unless you can fly, you can’t get to it from any

  other direction.”

  “So you know the spot pretty well?” Margaret asked.

  “Not very.”

  “How often have you been down?”

  “A few times, but only when Lisa was up here. She’s the only girl who’s daring enough

  to suggest it. She moved away about two years ago, and nobody’s been down since. You need

  somebody up top watching the ropes for you. We tried it one day early in the morning, and the

  ground was still wet from the dew. It’s really hard to get back up without somebody up top to

  pull you up, besides, you’d have to have pretty good balance to stand anywhere down there for

  very long, it’s usually really windy.”

  “Your mom doesn’t know the area at all?”

  “No, just myself and a few other girls know anything about it. Mom would freak out if

  she knew we messed around up here. I figured that since you’re so into mountain climbing, you

  might want to try going down there sometime tomorrow.”

  “How big of a drop is it after the ledge?”

  “It’s quite a ways,” answered Carol. “Probably about one hundred feet.”

  “It would be great for repelling then. Maybe if you decide to stick around, I can teach you

  how.”

  “What do you mean if I decide to stick around?” Carol asked, a look of shock upon her

  face.

  “I saw your duffel bag in the tent,” answered Margaret. “Most people wouldn’t bring five

  sets of nice clothes for a two day camping trip.”

  Carol stood quietly beside Margaret for some time. She looked ashamed and couldn’t

  stare Margaret back in the face. Margaret could tell she felt upset, which made Margaret feel bad

  for bringing it up, but it was something she needed to know. She worried about her good friend.

  “I have to go, Margaret. I just can’t stay around here anymore.”

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  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 212

  “Are you sure that’s the answer to your problems?”

  “You don’t know the first thing about my family,” Carol explained, tears running down

  her cheeks. “Sure, they look like the perfect role models on the outside, but I can’t live there

  anymore. I don’t want to be around the lies anymore. I just have to get away from everything.”

  “You know you can’t run off with your boyfriend. That’s the first place your parents will

  look for you.”

  “I’m not that stupid. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that if he’s in town and I

  disappear, then I probably went off with him. I’ll do better than that though.”

  “But wh
y leave your family? You have everything so great here. You don’t know how

  hard it can be on your own.”

  “You don’t know how hard it is to live in that house,” Carol defended. “It’s all a lie.

  Everything my parents do is a lie. You know the secretary at my dad’s office? He’s been having

  an affair with her for several months now. Before her, there were others, but my mom’s so

  wrapped up in how everybody looks up to her, that she doesn’t even see it.”

  Margaret stood speechlessly as her young friend broke down in front of her. She hadn’t

  realized that the girl knew anything about her parents, but she knew how right Carol was, Carol

  had lived with them all her life. Margaret didn’t try to stop the outpour. She knew Carol needed

  to get her feelings out in the open, to make sure it was the right thing to do.

  “Besides, my mom’s just as bad as my father is,” Carol continued. “That’s if he’s my real

  father, I’m not really sure. The main reason she’s never noticed his affairs is that she’s to busy

  throwing herself at every man she can get to notice her. Mrs. Brunswick? Mrs. Davis? Mrs.

  Wilson? All of them women with extremely masculine voices that call to speak with my mother

  about community business.

  “She has to make special dates with each of them to discuss issues of public interest. Yet,

  I’ve never met a single one of them. All of her other friends come over to the house to play cards

  or go out to restaurants for lunch, but what about all the others who she sometimes spends hours

  with for lunch? I’ve heard what my mom talks about at her bridge gatherings, and I’ve never

  heard any pressing political issues. She doesn’t even discuss politics with my dad, and she has no

  real power in the community.”

  “I didn’t think you knew?” Margaret answered with a look of surprise.

  “Who wouldn’t know? I’m sure you know all about it. I didn’t think I’d even see you

  again after you went to get your purse from my dad’s office.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what was going on in there. You could probably hear her from the waiting

  room. They’re so obvious about it. My dad doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. It’s like he

  doesn’t care if he gets caught.

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  © 1995 Brett Barney Literary Page 213

 

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