A Single Eye (36 page)

“Let her be. Look, she does these things. Don't worry.”

“But—” Amber was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Don't you have coffee getting cold?” he said.

“Yeah, but—”

“Coffee?”

She turned and stomped back to the far end of the kitchen.

Barry turned so his back was to her and said, “Look, the thing is Maureen needs down time. It's been tense here and, well, Darcy, it's not your fault, but she feels left out. Roshi's always leaned on her. It's important to her to be the one who saves his bacon. To have him pick a stranger—”

“And have that stranger turn her away when she needed to see him—”

“Exactly. But that's her practice; she has to deal with it.”

He started to turn back to his boxes.

“But Barry, Maureen is key to everything that happened when Aeneas di—when whatever happened to Aeneas happened. If she'd talked to Roshi—”

He grabbed my shoulder and stared down at me.

“Are you thinking she killed Aeneas? Well, don't. I know Maureen. That's not possible. Believe me.”

“I never said she killed him! Why did you jump to that conclusion?”

He muttered something about being sure but it was one of those responses that just fill space with words. I
hadn't
put that thought into words before, even in my head. But now Maureen and that convenient hole she dug for the red maple the day Aeneas vanished, screamed: Look at us!

I just couldn't imagine Maureen poisoning Leo . . . unless she was really flipping out . . . which she was. I had to find her, even if she was in the fire tower, in the woods. But that meant leaving Leo unprotected. Things were swirling out of control. It was all I could do not to beg Barry to stay. I looked at his boxes and wished there were a magic way Leo could take their place.

Then I made the one decision I could for Leo. Leo would object, but I wasn't his jisha anymore. And there wasn't going to be another chance to get help.

“Barry, when you get to town, send the paramedics.”

“Roshi?”

He drew back and then his eyes widened as we both realized what bad shape he was in—he hadn't questioned why Justin had taken the truck yesterday, hadn't thought about Leo.

“I don't know how sick he is. It comes and goes, but he's too weak to walk on his own. Too weak to ride in with you. Maybe he's getting better; but maybe not. The paramedics, they can get here, can't they?”

It was a bit before he said, “Yes.” Then after another silence he said, “I could stay—”

I yearned to say: Yes! Please, please stay! But this contest was about so much more than cooking better-tasting chocolate than the next guy. It was about his life. I had already made a bad decision about Maureen, I couldn't bear to stand in Barry's way. I knew Roshi wouldn't.

“No. Go. But, give me some advice before you leave. Roshi wants Rob as his jisha. But, well, I don't trust Rob,” I said in great understatement. “Would you leave Rob alone with Roshi now?”

Barry stepped back, inhaling slowly through his teeth. By the time he exhaled, I didn't need more for an answer.

“Then who would you trust? I can't just go on leaving Roshi's door unlocked and hoping no one notices. I have to find someone I can trust.”

“Darcy, face it. If Roshi trusted anyone he wouldn't have made you jisha.”

I sighed. He sighed. Then he said, “I've got to get going. I'll call the paramedics when I get to town. Don't worry. Roshi will be okay for a couple hours.”

But I was worried, about Roshi and about Maureen. And letting Barry go was the hardest thing I had ever done.

When Barry hoisted a box and headed outside, Amber reappeared at my side. “I know the cut-off to the fire tower. I can take you there.”

“It's off the path in the woods, isn't it?” I said, feeling my stomach drop to the floor.

“Yeah,” she said gleefully. “But listen, you can keep your eyes closed the whole way. I'll lead you like you're a blind person.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-NINE

I
sent Amber for heavier sweaters. “It'll be dark before we're back.”

She bounded off like a kid about to be taken to the park, passing Barry as he strode, all-business, back from the truck.

“Barry,” I said, quickly to cover my anguish about his leaving, “are you going to say goodbye to Roshi?”

He wiped the sweat off his bald dome, then a smile widened his face as if he'd been given a gift. “I'd like that. He said he wasn't seeing anyone, so I didn't want to ask. But, yes, that would mean a lot to me.”

“You don't mind me coming with you? So I can make sure he's okay?”

“I could check him out for you—But, no, of course, you want to see him yourself, check his progress. Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Let me take the last box to the truck.”

I waited outside, trying not to think about the woods. Fear is thoughts and feelings in the body, nothing more, I reminded myself. I had been afraid of the woods so long that whatever thoughts I had originally had were too blurred to read. They had hardened into a knot in my throat that threatened to choke me. I stood feeling the afternoon wind with its warning bite of night, feeling the corrosive cold in my chest, but not the knot. I couldn't bring myself to do that.

When he came back out Barry had added a hat and wool scarf to his garb and was holding a red padded box the size of a pizza container. It
was
a pizza container.

“From Roshi's newspaper delivery?” I asked.

“Yeah. They stack up till Giles, the newspaper supplier, drives in for a day-long sit, or one of us drives to town.”

“When the road floods, do the boxes keep coming?”

“I had them four deep in the kitchen one winter.”

“Pity you can't use them for insulation. Nice red padded boxes covering the walls would make my cabin a whole lot cheerier.” I was chattering about inanities like a kid asking for a glass of water, a bedtime story, a kiss—anything to put off the dark.

Barry strapped the boxes in the truck's passenger side, creating a nest that would make any ornithologist proud. Beyond him, the scarred and cracked dashboard sat empty—gone was Leo's fine display of plastic forks, the ones he had collected at truck stops all the way to the Canadian border. Despite the sunless sky, the truck seemed to glow from the warmth of my memory of that moment, right here, when Leo had admitted he was Roshi, and I had let out a whoop bigger than Amber's.

The sweetness of that memory made the walk back to Roshi's cabin all the harder. I watched Barry knock and then followed him in, me the unwelcome intruder. Barry stopped right inside the door. He gasped, then dropped to the floor in a full bow, I think to cover his shock. There was something about huge, city-dressed Barry that made the cabin and Roshi himself look smaller and grayer than ever. He reached out a bony hand and tapped Barry's head. If wasn't a blessing but a kid's rap, as if he was saying to Barry,
Don't make too much of this. It's just two guys saying good-bye for the weekend
.

Barry looked up and he must have smiled, for Roshi's smile looked like a response. Barry sat back on his heels, easily, even in shoes. Roshi propped himself on his elbow. Was he weaker? I couldn't tell. The two of them sat in silence, then Roshi cleared his throat and said, “How's this head?”

“Fine,” Barry said, but in an unsure questioning tone. “Oh, you mean my head
now
.”

“Where's the pain?”

“Gone.”

He bowed, and I knew the pain they meant was the last Cacao Royale.

As Barry stood up I stepped back, opened the door, and—

“Darcy,” Roshi said, “where is Rob?”

“I don't know.”

“You know what I mean: did you tell him he was jisha?”

“No. I don't trust him.”

Barry eased back out of the way.

“Barry, get Rob for me.”

“Roshi, I have reason—”

“Barry, now! Take Darcy with you as you go.”

My eyes teared up. I turned quickly and hurried out, hurt and furious with Leo and not overly pleased with Barry. It wasn't his job to support me, but still . . .

Barry walked out, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck.

“Don't let it get to you. He's tossed me out a couple times. But like he said, the past is past. He'll still be your teacher tomorrow.”

“Yeah!” I snapped. “If he's right about Rob.”

“Rob won't hurt Roshi.”

“Even if it's for the good of the monastery?”

It was a moment before Barry said, “It isn't.” Then he added, “I've got to go,” and strode back along the path to the bath house and around toward the zendo.

He
wasn't the one Rob had knocked off the zendo roof. Likely he didn't even know Rob had done that, much less why. Loss of control, or intent? Which was more dangerous?

I stood outside Roshi's cabin, tempted to go back in, but Amber burst out of the bathhouse, waving my thick green sweater like a flag. I had no choice but to believe Roshi—and Barry—knew what he was doing.

“Come
on
!” Amber was bouncing from foot to foot, reaching over, all but unzipping my jacket and pulling the green sweater over my head. “It'll be getting dark. You don't want to go into the woods at night, little girl.” She giggled.

All the rage I'd felt with Roshi flared and was doused by that giggling. Amber was right; this was just a walk in the woods. I started across the path, wriggling out of my coat and into the sweater and back into the coat as I walked. At the bathhouse I slowed, and turned toward the zendo.

“Come
on!
”

I hesitated.

“Darcy, what are you waiting for—Rob to explode out the zendo door and chew us out for cutting out of work period?”

“Right. Okay, we're off.”

When I was a kid we'd had a big, young, male golden Retriever. For him, “Heel” was a momentary trick. The joy of a new person, smell, or piece of food sent him bounding off, jerking me along. More than once I had to grab a phone pole light to stop us. Walking with Amber had that familiar feeling.

“I'm glad you're not on leash,” I said, but fortunately she had bounded out of range.

I raced to keep up with her, barely noting the old yellow truck standing alone in the parking area big enough to hold twenty vehicles. The surface was mud over gravel and had that crackly quality of brittle skin over moist flesh.

When we reached the road the wisdom of the parking area gravel was clear. The road was like walking on a brownie, and not one of those too-dry brownies either. I kept my head down, looking for solid spots, staying on the rise between the tire trenches. Amber was actually bouncing between rise and rim. I got so caught up in watching that I missed my footing on the rise and slid into the trench with a splash. The wind wasn't strong yet, but it rustled the fronds on the redwoods and the pine needles and the branches of the leafless trees, the arboreal fingers of the dead.

“Yeow!”

Amber slid across the planks of the bridge and smacked into the low stone wall.

“Amber! Be careful. You could have sailed over that wall. It's meant to sit on, not to keep you out of the water.”

“This, from you?” She laughed. “Wow, look at the water down there. It's way higher than Monday.”

I had to take her word for that. When I passed over this bridge Monday I had been in the bed of the truck, staring for dear life into the cab, watching Rob shake his finger at Roshi, as if he was already in charge. And now he was in control of Roshi. With us gone, the only person on the grounds who might watch him was Gabe Luzotta. I reminded myself why I trusted Gabe; that, at least, was something.

I had been tempted to pause on the stone wall, but I moved right on over the firm if slippery bridge. I skidded to the end, looked up to find Amber, and instead found myself an inch from the red maple. All I could think of was: this is where Aeneas is buried. It had to be. There'd been no buildings to be buried under six years ago. And this tree had been planted the day he vanished. The hole was here and waiting. This tree was planted too far into the road and never moved. I swallowed hard and, despite my heavy sweater, the chill penetrated my bones. Aeneas was buried right here. He wouldn't have had the protection of even a body bag. He wouldn't have been laid out formally, of course, merely dumped, a huddled ball at the bottom of the hole and the damp brown earth thudded down on him. And the tree, had it sipped from the liquids of his body? I turned away in horror and came face to face with Amber and almost choked.