Sharyn McCrumb - Lovely In Her Bones

Elizabeth shook her head. “I had dinner with Amelanchier. Where’s Milo?”

“He came back to eat and waited around for you, but when Dr. Lerche went off with Mary Clare, he said he was going back to work on the computer, and he stomped out.”

Elizabeth sat down at the table beside Jake. “Milo’s been awfully edgy lately,” she mused.

“Like a bear,” nodded Victor without looking up. “Too much caffeine, I expect.”

“No, I think it’s something-emotional,” said Elizabeth, groping for the word. “He seems upset about something.”

Jake eyed her warily. “This is an interesting book I’m reading,” he remarked. “It’s about the Cherokees.”

“If you’re interested in Indian lore, you ought to go up and talk to Amelanchier. I went out gathering with her this afternoon, and she told me all sorts of wonderful stories. Oh, and, Victor, she sent you an allergy cure.”

Victor looked up suspiciously from his map. “She what?”

“I told her that you were allergic to the immediate world, and she said that if you will inhale the smoke of this ginseng-what are you laughing at?”

Victor favored her with a condescending smile. “My parents have spent thousands of dollars taking me to the best allergy specialists in Washington. I don’t need the service of the local witch doctor, thank you.”

“You never know, Victor,” grinned Jake. “After all, penicillin started out as bread mold. Maybe she has an old Indian miracle drug.”

“You don’t have to tell me about Indians, Jake. My great-grandmother was a Cherokee princess.” With a self-righteous nod, Victor returned to his drawing.

Jake sighed. “I’ve been waiting for that one,” he whispered to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth braced herself for another shouting match, and she was surprised when none was forthcoming. Jake turned again to his book, apparently unaffected by Victor’s latest claim. She walked to the window, looking for the shine of headlights that would signal Milo’s return, but the road was dark. Since she wasn’t hungry and didn’t owe anyone a letter, she began to wander about the room, peering over Victor’s shoulder at his drawing and studying the plaques and pictures on the wall. A sepia photograph of some bygone Sunday school class attracted her attention.

“That’s funny!” she said aloud.

“What?” asked Jake, turning a page.

“This picture must be fifty years old judging from the outfits they’re wearing, but the people look just the same.”

“Mountain witch woman discovers elixir to keep people from aging,” Jake intoned without looking up.

“Idiot! That’s not what I meant. Of course they’re different people, but they’re just as much of a hodgepodge as the ones today. Blonds, people with dark straight hair, people with dark kinky hair, light ones, dark ones. I thought that the farther back you went, the more pure Indian they’d look.”

“Not the Cullowhees,” Jake told her cheerfully. “They’ve always been like that.”

Elizabeth considered this. “What do you think of them?” she asked. “Are they the Zone Six people?”

Jake shook his head. “I’m no expert, but for what it’s worth, I think Lerche’s wrong about the Cherokees being recent invaders. I think they’ve been in these mountains all along.”

“That’s not what Amelanchier told me. She-”

“Where’s Alex?”

They turned to see Milo standing in the doorway, pale and breathless. Jake and Elizabeth glanced at each other, and silently agreed to an edited version of the truth.

“He’s out walking,” Elizabeth answered lightly. “He should be back soon. Come in and let me tell you about-”

“Not now, Elizabeth!” snapped Milo, slamming the door behind him.

Victor looked up, disturbed by the noise. “What was that all about?”

“Trouble, I expect,” Jake answered.

“If there isn’t, there’s going to be,” said Elizabeth grimly.

Milo ran along the dark path to the gravesite. He knew the way well enough to dodge tombstones and tree branches with only the moon to light the way. He was too worried to consider the etiquette involved in interrupting a love tryst or to let his fancy make ghosts of the graveyard’s shadows. Milo had enough to worry about already.

He stopped just short of the excavation trench and looked around. There was no one in sight, and the tent was dark, as he expected. Everything seemed to be in order, though. He decided to let them find him.

“Alex!” he shouted, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Where are you? It’s Milo!”

Having made that announcement, Milo sat down on a rock to wait. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so short with Elizabeth, but a crisis is no time for remembering one’s manners. He would explain it to her later, and he hoped that she wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. He sighed. One romance gumming up the works was enough for any dig. After a few silent minutes, he thought he heard footsteps running through the trees in the direction of the church. A moment later, Alex appeared in the clearing.

“Milo? What on earth’s the matter?”

“Somebody trashed the computer,” said Milo grimly.

“Trashed-when?”

“Earlier tonight. I drove back to town after supper to add some more data to the program, and when I got to the motel room, I found the disks had been ripped apart and the computer screen was smashed.”

“Damn!” Alex motioned him down the path toward the church. “We’ll have to report this, of course.”

“I already did. The guy on duty at the sheriff’s office took down the information, but he didn’t seem too upset. I take it the Cullowhees aren’t too popular around here.”

“I’ll go and see them in the morning. Then I guess we’d better see about replacing the equipment. Damn!”

Milo nodded. “How many days is this going to cost us?”

“I don’t know. A couple. I have duplicate disks back at the university, thank God! And we ought to be able to borrow another computer from the department for the time being.”

“Okay. Do you want me to drive back to campus tomorrow and pick up the replacements?”

“No, I’ll go. Do you have any idea who did this, Milo? Did it look like a burglary? Kids, maybe?”

“I’d say whoever did this knew something about computers. Enough to go after the disks, anyway.”

Alex grunted. “From now on, one of us stays at the motel room on guard. This isn’t going to happen again.”

Alex sat on the top step of the church, watching the sky grow light. It was too early to go to the sheriff’s office, even too early to start breakfast; but he hadn’t been able to sleep. The smashing of the computer was probably a senseless act of violence, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that it was an omen. He was taking it personally. He watched the trees become distinct shapes in the graying light. The cold light of day, he thought, smiling to himself. It seemed silly to think such things in daylight. Obviously, someone didn’t want the Cullowhee study to continue, but that wasn’t what troubled him. That was a minor annoyance. He kept feeling that there was some other message in the incident. A twinge in his lower back made him wince. He missed his bed at home and the luxury of long hot showers, which would loosen his muscles. Apparently the rigors of excavation work taxed muscles that racquetball left untoned. He wasn’t as young as he used to be; there was no getting away from that. Still, it was strange that, after last night, he should be up at dawn thinking of Tessa.

Why had he volunteered to go back to campus for the disks? If he went home, there might be a renewal of the cold war that existed between himself and Tessa. Surely he wanted to stay with Mary Clare-especially after last night. He shrugged. There was no point in worrying about that now. He would go back to campus for the disks, and sort out his feelings later.