Inagehi by Jack Cady

Author:Jack Cady
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Ancient, Literary
Publisher: Fairwood Press
Published: 2016-06-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

Harriette woke to a low knock on the door. It was Jan, me, Janet Scott, who did not then much understand the weight of past things. I still had my past to gather.

The radio sounded loud. Harriette turned it off.

“What time is it?” she asked the door. I told her it was two o’clock. I also told her Blaine called, and wanted her to call back. Then I left and went to the restaurant.

Harriette felt her face, her puffy eyes, and went to the bathroom to cool her face with a wet towel. She did not want to go into another situation at any disadvantage. Blaine had called. She tried her voice to see if it worked correctly. Her voice sounded husky, unmusical. It took her fifteen or twenty minutes before she felt in enough control to call Blaine.

The phone rang and rang. He was not at home.

She sat on the edge of the bed, remembering. It seemed impossible that only a little over two hours ago she came off that mountain, down a wide and well-worn trail, with fear too great to articulate, because articulated, it was too awful to consider. She reached to the dresser, picked up the two broken pieces of the knife.

The most likely possibility said that she had actually met Corey. That was easy to discover. Should it happen that by some one-in-a-million chance she had not seen Corey then she could only choose between acceptance, or the protest that she had hallucinated. She had read of mushroom and peyote rituals of Mexico and the southwest. She knew that induced hallucination was part of religious ceremony in some places—but self-induced by the mind?

When she felt in control she left to find Jan. Spending an afternoon with a rebellious child was among the least of the things she wanted, but she had promised. The weather was getting colder. When she rounded the corner of the restaurant Jan waited outside. Either Jan felt daring and worldly, or feared her presence might remind someone of work that needed doing.

They walked toward the road, the girl suddenly shy, and Harriette wondered where they were going, or if they were going anywhere. As they passed her car she turned to Jan. “Walk or ride?”

“Let’s ride.” The girl’s voice sounded neutral. Maybe she had second thoughts. Maybe she had built her expectations and believed that Harriette would magically turn the day into a great and exciting time.

“Good.” Harriette forced briskness into her voice. She had lied to this girl. It was her responsibility to mend the lie. Intentions were nothing. Results counted.

As she seated herself behind the wheel it occurred to her that it was the first time she had ever been conscious of her car. It was a few years old, she could not remember how many. It always ran. The steering had a little play, but it was otherwise a good car. It was simply not the kind of car a renowned world traveler would own. When she

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