chapter Five
“Let her go, Lib,” Nathaniel said.
She looked at him, then at Sage and Adrian standing under the ladder in the vestibule, and knew she was outnumbered. She tried anyway.
“But it’s not dark, yet.”
Nathaniel leaned against the corridor, arms crossed over his chest and looked at her like she was a silly bird, latched onto her chick’s wing as it fluttered against her in the nest. “I know.” He nodded toward the kids. “And they know the boundaries.”
She looked at Adrian, the same age but shorter and leaner than Sage, and then eyed the burlap sack he intended to fill with greens and herbs, the ingredients for a special meal he planned to make later that evening. He was a budding chef, and rather good when you considered his limitations in cooking essentials.
Raindrops pattered the hatch. Liberty looked at Nathaniel and pointed up. “What about the weather?”
“It’s not acid, Lib, it’s water. It’s fine.” He grinned, enjoying the banter a little too much.
“Yeah,” Adrian piped up. “Makes for easier pickings.” He shook the empty bag.
Liberty looked at Sage. Her posture mimicked her father’s, arms crossed as if she were bored out of her mind. Dark, red hair fell past her shoulders, no longer kept in ponytails like she did as a young girl. Her green eyes were lined with black pencil. She looked like the models in the magazines she picked out of the donation bin.
Sage rolled her eyes when Liberty remained silent and said, “C’mon, we’re not kids anymore, you know? This is getting embarrassing.” She stretched out a manicured hand and checked her nails. Exactly when had she gotten so snotty?
Liberty opened her mouth to ask if Sage had finished her assignments, but shut it again. The ploy wouldn’t work. Lessons were put on hold any time family visited. Besides, she’d excelled. It was doubtful even a year without lessons would hinder her.
And Sage was right, in a way. Liberty did overreact sometimes. Here were two cousins, headed outside for fun and some fresh air. No harm in it. But Liberty longed to hug her, to feel reassurance. They’d become so painfully distant lately.
She sighed. “All right. Go.”
“Thanks.” Adrian beamed. “We’ll be careful.”
Sage’s expression hadn’t changed. She still looked perturbed, the norm for her lately. “I’m nearly sixteen, you know. You can’t keep me locked up here forever.” Sage took a deep breath like she planned to let loose with a long squawkfest.
Liberty held up a hand for Sage to stop. “Don’t forget—”
“Yeah, yeah, we got it.” Sage waved her mother off. “Twenty paces in from the east field.”
Liberty nodded. “Away from the farmhouse. And north?”
Adrian answered as he kicked off his shoes. “To the boulder near the creek.”
Sage finished, “Fifty paces from the west. God, Mom, I know to stay away from the freaking road—”
“That’s enough, Sage,” Nathaniel interrupted the beginnings of a rant, which they’d been getting a lot of lately. “Just go before I change my mind.”
Knowing better than to argue with her father, Sage huffed and turned around. Adrian stood in his skivvies, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and waited for her to leave the area. Apparently even he was growing up.
“Be careful. And come home if it starts lightening,” Liberty warned as Nathaniel pulled her away.
He put his arm around her and they walked down the corridor together, listening to Sage as she mocked Adrian for being polite and then muttered something Liberty felt certain was unpleasant. Sounds carried in the cavern, though she didn’t think her daughter cared.
She looked up at Nathaniel with a mixture of worry and hurt in her eyes and he pulled her tighter to him.
“I can’t get used to them going off alone,” she lowered her voice and looked back over her shoulder. “I mean, look at Adrian, he’s worse than me. He carries a salad bag for crying out loud. Hardly any protection for our daughter.”
“Shh.” Nathaniel looked down at her and chuckled. “I don’t think she needs any.”
He had a fair point. Sage took after Nathaniel, strength and fearlessness ran through her blood. Liberty was the opposite. She’d spot a bunny nibbling on clover, and by the time she’s pointed out how cute it looked twitching its nose, Sage would be holding up dinner by its ears, its neck snapped.
The only thing Liberty killed were insects. And then, only if they’d found a way into her bed chamber. She sighed. “You’re right, I guess.”
“Come on, little hen, let’s visit with our guests. Maybe share some of the wine you’ve been saving. Before you know it…” He stopped outside the sitting chamber where Katie and Gabriel waited and gave her a wet, sloppy kiss that made her giggle. “Your girl will be home.”
Two glasses of wine and an hour later, Liberty couldn’t understand Adrian’s babble.
“Liberty.” Adrian burst into the cavern, naked, out of breath, and dripping. “We were run…” He paused. “It was out past the creek--”
“Whoa, slow down.” Liberty stopped him, looking over his shoulder. Sage wasn’t behind him. Liberty’s scalp tingled, burned. She moved him aside and started down the corridor. “Sage?” Fear crawled up her back, tightened around her neck. Her voice croaked, “Sage!”
Adrian grabbed her arm and looked at her, eyes wild. “I’m trying to tell you. Sage fell down the embankment.”
“What?” Liberty yelled, running toward the vestibule. Looking back over her shoulder, she screamed for Adrian to get Nathaniel, but Nathaniel had already appeared.
“Adrian? Liberty?”
She noted the alarm in his voice and heard Adrian begin to tell him what happened, but kept moving.
Reaching the entry, she saw a fresh puddle of water at the base of the ladder, and looked up to see the hatch wide open. She stripped as she climbed, letting her clothes fall into the wetness.
She was still four rungs from the top when she flung herself to the surface. No time to wait for her senses to give the all clear. She snarled as she rose to her feet and took off toward the creek.
She stopped after a minute, leaned against a tree for support and contemplated the idea of heading in the opposite direction, toward the farmhouse. She could ask Mitch for help.
Then she remembered. He was busy making arrangements for Ellie’s funeral.
Liberty wavered with indecision, wondered how this could have happened. Ellie dead one day, and Sage injured the next. It had to be a serious injury. Adrian wouldn’t have come home without her otherwise. Liberty shook her head and pushed away from the tree. She needed to get to her daughter.
Taking a shortcut, Liberty headed north, the straightest way to the creek. It wasn’t the easiest, brush and new pine growth hindered her progress, but she ducked and dodged her way through the foliage, snapping more than a few saplings on her way. She’d not even made it a quarter of the distance when Nathaniel caught up, and then quickly passed her by.
The creek snaked its way east-west, close to the rear boundary of their woods and during this time of the year, early fall, it could be hurdled in a single bound. The ravine sat a couple hundred yards north of there, and as she leapt across, Liberty felt her fear morph into anger.
Why hadn’t Adrian and Sage listened? She’d specifically told them to stay within the creek’s boundary. They knew better. When they got Sage back home and patched up, the two teens had better have good answers.
As she crested a small hill and neared the steep embankment, she saw Nathaniel, shrouded in a dark aura, pacing near the ridge. She growled in fear and frustration. He turned, motioning for her to hurry. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he gone over? She rushed to his side, looked over the edge, and understood.
Dusk had fallen, but her Sasquatch-aided nocturnal vision let her see clear to the bottom. The chasm did not hold an injured body.
Sage’s scent had diminished in the downpour, but there were signs of the path she’d taken down the steep slope. The skid marks and matted greenery were plainly visible through the overgrowth. Sage still had some growing to do, but at fifteen, she stood over seven feet tall in her Sasquatch form. Liberty scanned the entire length of the base, looking for something she had missed, but Sage wasn’t visible anywhere at the bottom.
Maybe she’d got hung up along the way? Nathaniel must’ve had the same idea. Before she knew it, he slipped over the edge and started to pick his way to the bottom. She lost sight of him partway down, a large laurel obstructing her view, so she ran down toward the opposite end and to start her own search. Maybe both looking would find her more quickly.
The trees in this area didn’t have dense canopies, so the rain soaked her pelt. Trying to see better, she stopped every few feet to wring the fur on her head out, like a big soggy rag. Sage’s scent had now washed completely away. There was nothing for Liberty to latch onto, so she found a spot that didn’t look too treacherous to descend. It was as good a spot as any to begin. Perhaps Nathaniel had even already found their daughter.
Every time she stopped on her descent to clear her vision, Liberty called out to Sage. She knew she risked discovery, roaring as she did, but finding Sage outweighed the risk. She focused on the thick underbrush, looked for sable fur, pushed thoughts of pale flesh to the back of her mind.
Every stick, thorn, and bramble found its way into her coat, weighing her down. She stopped to untangle herself a half dozen times, grew more frustrated each second.
As she worked to remove a stubborn branch which managed to embed itself into the longest of the fur on her torso, Nathaniel stepped into view below her. Alone. She froze, branch in hand, and tried to decipher the look she saw in his eyes.
She smacked her hands on the earth where she sat. What was he looking at her for? Where was Sage? He climbed up, took her by the hand, and pulled her to the base of the cliff. He pointed ahead, to the left.
They weren’t in Montgomery Woods anymore. This was a rougher area, usually free from people. Even the die-hardest hunters didn’t venture past the ‘no trespassing’ signs posted every five feet.
Nathaniel continued to point. Even though it was dusk and the clouds refilled, tracks from a vehicle stood out ten yards away. The utility road.
The road was overgrown and closed to the public. It snaked through the woods and ended at the blacktop, Rimrock Hill Road, where a rusty chain strung between two posts blocked the entrance. Despite the blockade, people would sometimes unhook the chain and drive down the path to see where it took them.
With the comprehension, the desperation to locate Sage ballooned. Maybe they’d somehow missed her. Maybe she was behind them. Liberty turned and paced the rocky bottom, called out to Sage in deep grunts. Grunts quickly evolved into wails, and a moment later, Nathaniel tackled her to the ground. The air went out of her lungs and she slugged him. He didn’t retaliate, but straddled her, one hand holding both of hers, and waited as she tried to buck him off. When she made a solid connection with a knee between his legs, he latched onto her throat. Her aura turned blood red. She bucked harder, and he forced her head to the side.
She faced the road, not the incline, and the new position caused her to stop the struggle. Nathaniel waited a minute, then released his grip. She got it. Got a grip on herself. They’d search the road. Maybe Sage had been too injured to climb back up and went around. Liberty nodded, calmer. Nathaniel lifted himself off and extended a hand to help her up. She refused it, got to her feet on her own, and hurried toward the utility road.
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her back around. She almost lost her balance as he shoved her toward the brush at the base of the ravine. Had he gone mad? She balled up her fists and turned to take another swing at him.
He held up his hands to ward her off. Pointed to his chest, and then to the road. He pointed at her, and then to the hill. She dropped her fists. Agreed silently. He would search the road and she would stay. Go over the hill again.
She didn’t like it. It felt like a diversion, but his stance said he wouldn’t budge. Standing around to commence with a power struggle wouldn’t accomplish anything.
Tumbling rocks startled her. She whipped around, full of hope, only to find Gabriel standing atop the ridge. He looked at the two of them and dropped down over the edge.
He cleared the treacherous cliff faster than Nathaniel had, the urgency tugged at her heart. The extra set of eyes would help.
Gabriel and Nathaniel went ahead to the utility road and she clawed her way up and down the steep hill, examining each shrub and thicket.
Perhaps Sage couldn’t call out or answer because she was unconscious. That had to be it. Liberty looked back toward the road, saw movement halfway to the blacktop, still just two figures.
Liberty focused on a possible injury. Even that was better than imagining the set of muddy tracks had anything to do with Sage being gone. Head down, Liberty desperately searched for Sage’s aura.
The rain finally stopped, but had come down so heavy and for so long, they could no longer trace their own scents. Though they knew they’d covered the entire thirty acres of their side of the property.
They stayed in the woods all night. Searched the eastern property even, though it was quite a distance from where Adrian had last seen Sage. Liberty returned to the cavern twice, checking if her daughter had somehow made her way home. Same answer from Katie each time, no word.
When daylight crept over the horizon they were forced back to the cavern. Liberty’s normally strong legs trembled with fear and weariness, they’d buckled a couple of times and she’d gone down as she made her way.
Nathaniel was there to lift her, even though he’d searched just as hard, if not harder. She found herself semi-numbed. Straight ahead the path was clear but her peripheral vision was a complete blur, couldn’t even see auras.
Liberty reached the hatch, lifted it, and stumbled down the shaft. Lying at the base of the ladder in a puddle of mud, Liberty sobbed. Nathaniel came down behind her, took a soft robe from the hook in the wall, wrapped it around her shoulders, and coaxed her to her feet. She collapsed in his arms, refused to move.
Gabriel stood halfway up the ladder without saying a word, unable to get down.
“Sage?” Katie entered the alcove, whispered their daughter’s name. A question.
“She’s gone, Katie,” Liberty struggled to get the words out, “disappeared into thin air.”
Nathaniel peered over Liberty’s shoulder toward Gabriel, and Liberty saw a look pass between them. “Don’t you do that! You’re wrong. Nobody took her. She’s out there, Nathaniel.” She pleaded with her eyes. “We just can’t find her.”
Adrian appeared next to his mother, face puffy and eyes swollen.
“What happened out there, Adrian?” Anger rose, and Liberty tried to pull away from Nathaniel. He held fast.
“I’m so sorry I left her.” Adrian started to cry. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Katie put an arm around his shoulders, rubbed his chest and hushed him.
“Why protect him?” Liberty nearly growled. “He didn’t protect Sage.”
“Now wait a min—” Katie started.
“No, you don’t dare talk to me.” Liberty jabbed a finger at Adrian. “I want your son to tell me what really happened out there.”
Nathaniel rubbed her back, still holding tight. “Shh, Lib, listen–”
“It’s all his fault.” Liberty shook her head, eyes fixed on Adrian.
Liberty noticed the look in Katie’s eye changed as she turned her son around and led him down the corridor.
Gabriel made it down the ladder and without another word, squeezed Liberty’s shoulder and left the vestibule.
“Please go out and look again.” Liberty looked at Nathaniel. “Please. Go to Mitch.”
His voice was calm and low as he helped her toward their bedchamber. “I will,” he said. “I’ll go in a little bit.”
She cried, called Adrian neglectful, accused him of hiding something. Passing the entry to the guest chamber only renewed her fervor.
“He’s a liar, Katie. He knows what happened,” her screams bounced off the limestone. She didn’t recognize her voice. “Where is she, Adrian? Huh?”
Nathaniel picked her up, covered her mouth, carried her the rest of the way to their bed.
She looked into Nathaniel’s eyes for the first time that night and noticed they were red-rimmed, moist. She wondered how she could be so selfish. She hadn’t even considered how badly he must hurt. He loved their girl as much as she did.
She couldn’t find the words to comfort him, settled on stopping her outburst and pulling him to her. Her chest jerked with spasms against his. Finally her body decided it was done and she fell asleep.
Gabriel, Katie and Adrian stayed a few extra days after the disappearance. Liberty knew in her heart it was out of guilt and shame. Whenever Katie had come into Liberty’s bedchamber, with food and drink, she’d tried to hide the contempt in her eyes, but Katie hadn’t succeeded.
Liberty knew she’d been heavy with accusations and distrust on the hellish night of Sage’s disappearance, but she had no regrets.
Katie seldom spoke to her and when she did, the words were short and clipped.
She hated Liberty almost as much as Liberty hated Adrian.
Liberty awoke in a state of eerie calm. Nathaniel turned to her and gently took her hand. The lantern on the nightstand was dialed down, giving the appearance he had two faces. The one in the light, pure, and the one in the shadow, sinister.
She shivered. She preferred candlelight in the cavern. The flicker of the flames made the chambers seem warm and alive. The battery-powered light froze it all, made the shadows cold and motionless.
“What time is it? How long have I been out?”
“It’s almost morning. You didn’t get much rest though.” He brushed the hair from her forehead. “You tossed and talked in your sleep most of the night.”
She tried to sit up when the previous night’s events came back to her—Sage was alive—but she got up too quickly, became lightheaded. She leaned back against the pillow.
She closed her eyes, willed the spinning in her head to stop. Her mouth felt like a field in the middle of a summer-long drought. She asked without opening her eyes, “Water?”
She felt him lean over and bring a cup to her lips. “Here you go.”
She took a few swallows. Some of the water ran down her chin, a tiny ice stream. “Ooh, cold,” she said through a shiver.
His hands were there to catch the droplets. She melted at his warm touch and smiled, took his hand in hers and moved it to the buttons on her gown.
She tried to remember the last time she and Nathaniel had shared an intimate moment and couldn’t recall. Weeks? A month? She’d been emotionless for so long, her heart probably hadn’t been in it whenever it had been, so the memory of it was gone.
The loss had killed a part of her, and she’d lived the better part of a year in a fog. Not known an hour without a thought of Sage. Awake, asleep, she’d been consumed. She hadn’t forgiven herself, and for that Nathaniel had suffered.
But now her hope was renewed.
She pulled him nearer. “Our girl is alive.”
A sad smile tugged at his mouth as he stroked her hand. “I know you want to belie—”
She yanked her hand away at the patronizing tone. “You heard what Adrian said.” She started to get out of bed, growing angrier by the second. “He said he saw her.”
“Shh, please try to understand.”
She blocked out his words. His mouth moved, but she refused to listen. She’d heard it all before. She wasn’t being unreasonable and she certainly wouldn’t give up. They’d all heard what Adrian had said.
“…he said to tell you he is sorry he upset you and he knows he was mistaken.”
She tuned in to Nathaniel’s one-sided conversation. “Who said?”
“Lib, you know who. Adrian. He’s sorry.”
“Let him tell me himself.” She shoved Nathaniel off the bed and flung the blanket back. Standing, she shot Nathaniel the deadliest look she could muster and headed for the doorway.
“They’re gone.”
“What?” They couldn’t have just left after such a huge revelation. “When?” If she hurried, maybe she could catch them.
“Not long after you fainted.”
Her heart sank. They were miles away, if not already back at Proem. “Why?”
“Katie couldn’t bear to stay, said she’d had enough and insisted they all leave right away.” Nathaniel paused, then said, “I took care of matters, though, before she left.”
“What matters?” Liberty asked.
“I told her we wouldn’t mention Adrian’s incident, if she’d keep quiet about ours.”
He had to be kidding, right? She stepped toward him. “Are you saying Adrian’s sighting of Sage was an incident? Or my reaction to it? You think I’m crazy to believe it?”
He held up his hands, shook his head in denial and backed away a couple of steps. “Did I say that?”
“Why are you on the defensive now?” She tensed, looked around the chamber, fought the urge to pick a candle and throw it at him. “I feel like I’m the one being wrongly accused here.”
“Does Patience deny your mother’s death?”
She paused, where had that come from? “Excuse me?”
“Patience. Does she think your mother is alive?” He lifted his hands upward toward the surface. “Wandering around somewhere and waiting to be found?”
“You’re insane, you know that?” It was her turn to back away, “I was there. I saw my mother’s body.”
He lowered his voice. “I know that, but Patience never saw her body. So why should she have believed it when they told her that her mother wasn’t coming back?”
She got it, but didn’t fall for his lame attempt at psychoanalysis. “Uh, uh.” She waved a finger back and forth. “My mother and Sage are two different birds, Nathaniel, a sparrow and a vulture. You and I both know it.”
“How so?”
“Really? You really want to do this?”
“We have to. We can’t continue like we have.”
“Fine.” Liberty paced, swallowed her bitterness before she spoke. “The difference? We had evidence for Patience. Namely, there were witnesses, if you’ll remember. There is no explanation where Sage is concerned, no witnesses, no clues. There’s a gaping hole in her story. A giant, empty void.”
“The emptiness is in your heart, Lib.” He reconsidered, “Our hearts.”
“Exactly. But I don’t have a black hole like you do. I don’t grieve. You show me a body and I’ll grieve. Until then…” She crossed her arms. “I’ll keep up my hope. And it seems to me I have a reason now.”
“Adrian said he was mistaken. You ask me, that’s the real story. He saw a human girl that resembled Sage. It was dark. It would be an easy mistake.
Being Sasquatch, cursed with a human heart, was enough to drive her mad. She’d rather be human cursed with a Sasquatch heart. Then, instead of cowering down in a cave discussing how bad she felt, she could be out looking for her daughter.
The police, the community, everyone would pitch in. But, no. She had to wait until dark so she wouldn’t be seen as a monster. The whole situation made her want to scream.
“So, just like that, you believe it was a mistaken identity?”
Nathaniel walked to the bed, sat on the edge, and stared at his feet. “I don’t need any more proof. She isn’t here, and hasn’t been here. For us, Lib, sometimes no answer is the only one we get.”
Liberty shook her head. “We never did enough to find her.”
He looked up at her with darkness in his eyes. “How can you say that?”
“I never thought we did.” She pulled a plastic lawn chair across the limestone floor, stared at him.
His eyes were shiny.
“Listen.” She sat and leaned toward him. “I know you’re hurt, I do. And I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t care. But I feel…” She paused and searched for the right words. “I feel like, if I comfort you? It means in some way I accept she’s dead.”
“Fine.” He wiped the back of his hand across his eyes, his voice edgy. “But you do know we’re relocating.”
She tensed.
He continued, “I’m not saying to Proem, but we’re going to be leaving the area. There’s no negotiating. It’s really out of our hands.”
She hated him, didn’t try to hide the sneer on her face. She stood so fast the chair tipped onto the floor. “That was the plan before. I don’t give a damn what you do, but my decision has been made. I’ll rot here.”
She started to storm out, then turned around, walked to the bed, yanked the quilt from it and kicked the chair as she exited the room. It was the first time she’d ever drawn the line between them since they’d moved there, let alone made a big to-do and slept elsewhere. She wasn’t sorry.