I thought about this. To my surprise, I could not conjure a single memory of Eli swimming in his own luxurious pools.
"But," I replied, "I did see you swim that river two nights ago."
///
Eli grinned and nodded. "I didn't have much of a choice."
Eli grew silent for a while. The SUV turned onto a narrow road winding into the steep hill country west of town.
"I don't like to talk about it," he said, his voice barely audible. "The memory haunts me to this day. That lake may look placid on the surface, but it's deceptive. The undertow. My mother … "
Eli was quiet again. I lay my hand on his arm.
"I couldn't save her," he finally said.
Behind his dark sunglasses I could not see Eli's eyes, but tears were welling up in the corners of my own. This partial revelation had explained so much. We drove not saying a word. I tried to be there for him, to show him I cared, but I could tell he did not wish to tell me more. Maybe later.
We entered a tunnel through one of the mountains and the radio stopped working, which made me even more painfully aware of the long gap in our conversation.
Eli turned onto an even steeper and more winding road. We drove to the top of a mountain all covered with green trees. The road kept going on the other side of the mountain, winding down into a valley. Around a particularly sharp curve, the road came to a dead end. Eli stopped the SUV in front of an elaborate wrought-iron gate that reminded me of the main entrance to the Rutherford estate back in Shiloh.
"Home away from home," Eli muttered. Then he put the SUV in drive and mashed the gas. We rammed the gate, hard, metal scraping metal. The gate was bent but not broken. Eli backed up several feet, then rammed it even harder. The gate burst loose, swinging wildly from its hinges. Eli never even slowed down.
"Jesus," I said. "A little warning would be nice."
"Consider yourself warned," Eli said.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Maurice is going to be so ticked at you. And I am NOT taking the blame for this one."
Eli turned to me and grinned. "One-oh-three Chestnut Avenue."
"Let me guess. Maurice's address?"
"Maurice's address."
So Eli was planning to pay back Maurice, too. I admired Eli's intentions, but they seemed a bit on the optimistic side. If we got caught, he would never be able to repay Maurice and the other innocent bystanders we had "borrowed" from.
We drove for what felt like a long time, then crested another hill, and then I saw the lake. Its crystal-blue water filled the deep valley below, lapping the base of a series of dramatic rocky cliffs. Mountains ringed the lake on all sides. Yes indeed, this was one secluded getaway spot-and the perfect hiding place for my mother, if she was here.
At the edge of the lake was a chateau built all of stone. To me, it resembled a European castle. It was three stories tall, with large windows and a steep roof. The sight of it took my breath away.
"God," I said. "It's beautiful."
Eli snorted. "Looks can be deceiving," he said. "Just look at your mother. Hell, look at you, for that matter. A little brat in a woman's body."
My feelings were hurt until Eli grinned, and I realized he was joking. He reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. Then he tucked the strand behind my ear, and his hand cupped the back of my neck. He squeezed, and it felt so warm and nice.
"Thank you for taking this journey with me, Avery. There is no way I could have done any of this without you."
"I know," I smiled. "Just don't forget me when you're back on top."
"Never," he said, and I believed him with all my heart.
We parked in a well-concealed spot behind some brush and scrubby trees a few hundred yards up the road, and approached the chateau on foot. Overgrown forest lined the drive leading up to the chateau, and we hugged the shadows in case anyone was watching from one of the top-floor windows.
When we were close enough we jogged the rest of the way up the steps, right to the front door. Eli turned the knob, and to his surprise the door opened. It creaked as it swung wide, revealing the faded glory of the Rutherford clan's forgotten chateau. We stepped inside a darkly cavernous room with a double staircase near the back wall. Life-sized murals adorned the walls. Some of the men bore a striking resemblance to Eli. The room was filled with the kind of fancy and delicate-looking antique furniture that no one in their right mind would want to use.
"This place gives me the creeps," I said.
Eli shushed me. "We'll start at the bottom and work our way up," he whispered.
Eli was obviously excited, striding across the floor with a real sense of purpose. But I had a feeling we would not find what we were looking for. To me, it looked like no one had visited the lake home in months. Maybe years. But I went along with him, like a good girl.
///
Eli found a flashlight in a hall closet, then led me to a hidden stairwell down to the basement. The bomb shelter door had been left ajar. Eli flicked on the flashlight, the beam casting a slant of yellow light in the darkness.
The bomb shelter was seriously creepy. I wanted to turn around right then, but Eli walked into the darkened room, shining his light this way and that. It was like a regular living room from a home in the 1960s, with brightly colored furniture and shag carpeting, but the walls were lined with gallon cans of every kind of preserved food you could imagine. I nearly gagged when I saw the gallon of potted meat. It was all so weird. I couldn't imagine being stuck in this place, eating all that old food. I might have to take my chances with the bomb.
"Nothing's changed since I was a kid," Eli said.
Eli made a sweep of the bomb-shelter living room, then the kitchen and three modest bedrooms. I trailed close behind, trying not to bump into things.
"Let's check the other floors," he said.
We did. We saw a tasteful parlor and a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I pulled out one of the books, and its pages crumbled in my fingers.
The dining room was big as a banquet hall, and there was a fully stocked kitchen, but no recent signs of human presence.
Leaving behind the ground level, we ascended the staircase to the second and third floors, entering the bedrooms one by one, with their overstuffed beds, chests-of-drawers of dark and rich-smelling wood. We found miscellaneous items of furniture that varied from one room to the next, but still no evidence that a real-live person had occupied any of these rooms in years. The entire chateau was like a very expensive an exquisitely preserved dollhouse.
Eli and I came to the second-to-last door. Eli paused in front of the door, then skipped it and entered the final room at the end of the hall. His decision to bypass the door puzzled me, but I said nothing. We walked inside a bedroom that was larger and more opulent than all the rest. This was clearly the master suite. Still, though, it was deserted.
As we left, Eli shut the door behind him, then turned to face the door he had passed over moments before. Something was holding him back. I placed my hand on his shoulder and felt him trembling ever so faintly. "What is it, Eli?" I asked.
"My mother's room," he said, not moving.
"Let me," I said. "I'll go in. You stay here."
Eli took a deep breath, but he didn't step aside. Instead, he opened the door and walked in, electing to confront his demons. Late-afternoon sunlight was shafting through a west-facing window, illuminating the small but tasteful room. There was a canopy bed and a small wooden desk, and a rocking chair beside a window overlooking the lake. I imagined Eli as a small child being rocked to sleep by his mother.
"We searched the whole house," Eli said. "There's nowhere else. I … I need to think."
"There, there," I said, guiding Eli to sit on the edge of the bed. His body seemed drained of its power, and he sat without protest. I could tell his mind was torn between two conflicting thoughts-of my mother's whereabouts, and memories of his own mother, long dead.
"She was very beautiful, you know," he said. "I remember her face so clearly-her smile, the way she laughed. I was always doing little things to make her smile. When she died it's like a piece of me died, too."
I was sitting next to Eli on his mother's bed. I hugged his waist, and he held me in his arms. I looked up and saw there were tears in his eyes. I wiped one from his cheek. For some reason, my simple action made him smile through his sadness. He touched my forehead, brushing my hair out of my eyes just as he had done earlier in the truck, again tucking the loose strand behind my ear. I loved the gentle touch of Eli's fingertips.