Page 7 of The Promise
Drawing in a lungful of crisp mountain air, she let her eyes roam across the narrow valley. The beauty of the mountains was almost unbearable. Blues and greens mottled with the oranges and reds of Indian paintbrush and the yellow of coreopsis, the silver and brown of the jagged rocks protruding like broken and forgotten limbs through gentle rolling meadows.
This land was as familiar to her as breathing. And yet, angry and arrogant, she'd run away from it all. A part of her would regret that forever. But she was back now, determined to make a new start. And to do that she had to make peace with her past.
Starting with the mine.
With a sigh, she crossed the creek, stopping in front of the spruce, memories threatening to overwhelm her. Her parents had been gone nine years, but the night of their deaths lived on in her mind, teasing her with might-have-beens. Sheremembered it all—the crash, the fire, the cold snow against her face. And Michael—she remembered Michael.
Only of course, she didn't. Like most things good in her life, Michael was only an illusion. The product of a mind tormented by tragedy. And so, here she was, standing before an overgrown tree, looking for a doorway to something forever lost.
She skirted the great tree, making her way through overgrown underbrush and saplings until she was flush against the outcropping of rock that marked the side of the mountain. She frowned at the solid rock in front of her. Maybe she had the wrong spruce. Or maybe she was just coming at it from the wrong angle.
Trying again, she edging her way closer to the tree, ducking under its overhanging branches. Immediately a gloomy hush descended as the tree limbs effectively blocked out light and sound. Holding onto the trunk and keeping her head low, she moved behind the tree. She could see a jumble of fallen rock at her feet.
With a surge of certainty, she pushed between fragrant branches, her vision blocked by the thickness of the tree's pinecone laden limbs. Determined, she fought her way forward, feeling a lot like Lucy passing through the wardrobe into Narnia. The tree of her memory had certainly been much smaller.
Ducking almost level with the ground, she finally emerged from underneath the spruce. There was a narrow, rock strewn opening between the tree and the abutting mountainside. She drew in a breath and took a small step forward, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the faint sunlight that filtered through the branches.
Looking up, she could just make out the black gap marking the entrance to the mine. It was barely visible between two large outcroppings of sharp-edged stone, rocky sentries guarding their long forgotten treasure.
With a smile of triumph, she bounded up the small incline. Standing at the mouth of the cave, she felt the years roll away. It hadn't changed much. The entrance still beckoned, its mouth shored up with timbers carefully hauled into place by some long forgotten miner.
She stepped inside, squinting to see in the dark gloom of the interior, wishing for a flashlight. The man-made walls were rough-edged and slick with moisture. The air was still and stale, a sharp change after the fragrant mountain breeze. She hadn't been here in years. Not since the last time she'd come back looking for Michael.
With a sigh, she felt the familiar surge of disappointment. The tunnel was empty. She'd hadn't expected to find anything. Not after all this time. But still, a part of her had hoped. She stepped farther inside the tunnel, reigning in her emotions. This was supposed to be about closure after all.
The passageway wasn't deep, only a hundred feet or so. Whoever had dug it had abandoned it almost before he'd started, the lead he'd no doubt been following petering out before it could point the way to any riches the mountain might hold.
The San Juans were riddled with mines. Some of them successful—mines like the Amethyst, Holy Moses and the Last Chance. Some of them legendary—like the fabled Promise. But mainly there were empty holes like this one, carved out of the side of the mountain and then abandoned. Dreams quashed before they'd even begun. Cara felt a rush of sadness for this unknown miner and hoped his dreams had found fruition elsewhere.
She stopped about twenty feet into the mine shaft, at the place where the weak light finally played out. Against the wall, she could just make out an old lantern. In her mind's eye, she could see Michael holding the very same lamp, its golden glowspreading through the tunnel, illuminating the walls, casting dancing shadows.
She sighed, looking down at the remains of the lantern. Far older than nine years, the globe was broken, the metal base rusted with age. Her memories were imagined. Reality bending in on itself, creating something of nothing.
Michael Macpherson was a figment of her imagination. Someone she'd conjured up to help her through the worst ordeal of her life. He wasn't real. Her doctors had told her. Her grandfather had told her. And, eventually, she'd believed them. Shaking her head, to clear her thoughts, she turned to go. There was nothing for her here. She'd been silly to come.
The faint light from the entrance was almost blinding after the complete darkness of the tunnel behind her. Dizzy, her head spun for a moment and she almost lost her balance. Reaching for the cold comfort of the rock wall, she leaned against it until the moment passed.
Steady again, she breathed deeply, suddenly needing to be outside in the fresh air again. Stories of mine gas and cave-ins crowded into her brain, vying for attention. Shutting the rampant thoughts out, she made her way back to the entrance, and was just about to step into the pine shadowed sunlight when something behind her, in the depths of the tunnel, shifted.
Rocks rattled against stone as they rolled across the floor. She froze, heart pounding, waiting for another noise. Curiosity battled with terror. When the mine remained silent, curiosity won and she took a hesitant step back into the passageway.
Squinting into the darkness, she tried to make out the source of the sound, the little voice in her head calmly listing off all the wild animals that could conceivably have made the tunnel their home. It was enough to make her step back toward the entrance again.
Then, just as she turned to leave, something groaned.
She stopped, took a deep breath and swung around again to face the darkness. The groan repeated itself, reaching out from the gloom like a disembodied spirit.
Someone was in pain.
"Hello?" Her voice echoed eerily off the walls. "Is someone there?"
She waited, but there was no answer, nothing at all except the hollow silence. Uncertain now, actually doubting herself, she squinted into the darkness. She had heard something, but without any further guidance, it would be impossible—and foolhardy, her mind whispered—to try to find the source.
She reached instinctively for the smooth disk of her pendant, the cool feel of its silver casing calming her. Another rustling sound filled the mine shaft and she released the necklace, taking a hesitant step forward. This time the noise was followed by a muffled curse.
She sucked in a breath. "Can you hear me?" Silence. "I want to help, but I can't find you in the dark without a little guidance." She waited, but everything remained quiet. Finally, giving up, she turned to go, moving up the slight slope toward the entrance.
"Wait." The single word echoed through the cavern, somewhere between a plea and a command.
