Saturdays in spring brought a flood of humanity to
Pine Mountain. Some travelers were returning to repair
and re-open long shuttered weekend cabins, and
some came to witness the final gasps of snow on the slopes
of that noble rock. Still others came to find their past.
Perhaps, they thought, in the mysteries of long ago, the
answers to today’s questions would be found.
It was on such a Saturday that a minivan with a small
family rounded the many curves of a mountain highway
called Mil Potrero. They came looking for a house from
their past.
“Tim, I think we should stop for some drinks before
we go up the hill,” a pretty young woman advised the man
driving. She wore her hair up, in braids.
“With the kids asleep, wouldn’t it be better to just drive
by, turn around and head back? We could get something to
drink in Lake of the Woods, at the mini-mart,” the driver
responded. He was a handsome man in a rugged way. It
was obvious, from looking at his hands, that he earned his
wages with some physical labor.
“But I’d like to stop and look...”
“Again? Look for what? Of all the times we’ve been
up here you’ve never known what you’re looking for!” Tim
frowned.
“It meant something, Tim. He didn’t just say it,” Shannon
looked out of the side window. She was angry. “I
know it meant something.”
“Look, I’ll make a deal with you.” Tim gestured with
his right hand.
“Keep both hands on the wheel up here. You know
how much I hate this road!” Shannon tensed further, her
body molded into her seat.
“Come on hon, I’ve driven this road a thousand times.
Hey...there’re guard rails now!” Tim snickered as he teased.
“What’s the deal?” Shannon said, momentarily over her
fear of the curved road.
“I’ll stop this time, but it’s the last time. I just don’t see
the point. If you don’t find whatever it is you think is there
this time, then we’ll do it my way from now on. Deal?”
Shannon looked back out the window at the passing
trees. She knew she had been pursuing this strange passion
for too long. Tim had been patient. Still, the idea of actually
giving up left butterflies in her stomach.
“Shannon? Well? Is it a deal?” Tim whispered the
words as one of the children stirred in the back seat.
“You know I don’t even know what I’m looking for,”
Shannon matched his whispered tone. “But I know he
meant it—it’s too important to walk away from.”
“How long, Shannon? We’ve been coming up here for
more than a decade. It’s bugged me, too. But I think it’s
time to write this off as just one of those mysteries we can
never solve. Let’s just treasure the fond memories and let it
go...” Tim trailed off. He bit his lower lip.
“I’ll tell you what. If no one is there, then we’ll turn
around and never try this again,” Shannon offered. Her stomach
sank as she said the words, but she knew Tim was right.
Sooner or later they would have to put this behind them.
Maybe some answers weren’t meant to be found.
“Okay, it’s a deal then?” Tim extended his right hand.
“Both hands on the steering wheel!” Shannon urged.
“I’ll take that to mean it’s a deal.”
Shannon nodded.
***
“That’ll be five-twenty-seven, sir,” the clerk announced.
She pulled out a grocery bag and started putting in the
cold drinks.
“Shoot,” Tim rummaged through his pockets.
“What’s wrong?” Shannon asked. Two children stood
behind her.
“All I have is a twenty and a five. Do you have any
change?”
“I think so,” Shannon opened her purse and pulled
out her wallet.
“Here it is, I knew I had a buck in that pocket somewhere.”
“I can’t believe how much money I’ve collected from
the couch because of your habit of crumbling dollar bills
into your pockets, Tim!” Shannon shook her head. “I wonder
how much we have lost that I haven’t found?”
“Hey, why should you complain? You’ve done just
fine!” Tim pointed at her new blouse and purse.
“You’re right. I make quite a bit of money scavenging
your droppings!” Shannon smiled. It was their usual banter.
“Mom...can we eat? I wanna sandwich!” a pre-teen
boy demanded.
“Your father wants to get sandwiches after we look at
a house, Joey.”
“Are we going to look at that house again?” A girl, a
bit younger than the boy, whined.
“That’s right, Annie. Mom’s gotta do this again!” Tim
leaned over and glared at Shannon. He picked up the bag
of drinks and headed for the door.
“Tim! Why do you do this? You cared as much about
the Stone Man as I did!” Shannon was losing her patience.
“Excuse me, ma’am...did you say ‘Stone Man’?” The
words came from an older woman in line behind Shannon.
“Yes. why?” Shannon turned to face her. Tim stopped
and slowly turned to look at the older woman.
“I knew someone once, a long time ago, who we used
to call ‘the Stone Man’.”
Shannon looked behind the woman. The tiny aisle
was choked with people trying to check out. It was Saturday
afternoon. The visitors needed groceries here on Pine
Mountain.
“My husband and I did, too,” Shannon replied eagerly.
“Can we move over here? I don’t want to hold up the
line.” Tim walked back toward his wife.
“Do I know you?” Tim asked. He had a confused
look on his face.
“I don’t know. You look familiar.” The woman returned
the same puzzled gaze.
“I used to live here. Both Shannon and I did,” Tim
said while gesturing toward his wife. “We used to help
Grandpa Marino with his place.”
“Oh! You’re his grandchildren, then!” The older lady
brightened.
“No...oh, no. We just called him that. We kind of
adopted him.” Shannon corrected the woman.
“Oh...I see. Which ones were you?”
“Which ones?” Tim asked.
“He was ‘adopted’ by a few kids over the years.”
“We were the last ones, probably.”
The woman thought a moment, her eyes turned upward
as if looking back in time. “Was that about eleven
years ago?”
“Yeah... about that,” Tim answered.
“I remember you, then! You were in the car… in the
post office!” Tim’s eyebrows rose.
“The post office! You’re that woman that had a thing
for Grandpa!” Tim was surprised.
“Well, I did find him attractive!” The woman smiled
fondly while offering her hand. “My name is Mary.”
“Wait a minute... ‘a thing’? What is a ‘thing’?” Shannon’s
inquiry was interrupted by an older man who nearly
pushed her over while tugging at his teenage son.
“Come on...stop whining! You’re never grateful for
anything. That’s the last time I give you the choice of
dinners.” The man strengthened his hold on the boy’s arm.
“I’m in a rush and all you can do is whine.”
“Hasn’t changed, has it, Shan?” Tim watched the father
and son leave the store.
“No,” Shannon’s voice was barely audible as she found
herself caught in her own memories.
“No, it hasn’t. Sad. I can’t tell you how many kids
grow up like that,” Mary agreed.
“So...what’s a ‘thing’?” Shannon shook herself from
her private thoughts and returned to her original question.
“Well, I had a crush on him for years. Only I’m not
sure he noticed.” Mary looked down.
“He did...he did.” Tim smiled.
***
“Slow down, Tim! There’s somebody there!” Shannon
blurted.
“Wow! How many times have we come up here and
not found anything but weeds and shuttered windows?”
Tim pulled to the side of the road, about fifty feet from the
driveway to the house.
“It looks like they’re cleaning things up.”
“There’s a ‘for sale’ sign,” Tim pointed to a sign behind
a tree, by a stone wall.
“Oh, Tim! They can’t!” Shannon covered her mouth
with her hand.
“It’s their house...”
“We have to stop and talk to them!” Shannon turned
toward her husband. She stared into his eyes. He kept
looking away, but eventually met her stare.
“Since there is someone here this time, we’ll stop.”
Shannon rubbed her husband’s arm and smiled.
***
Shannon walked slowly up the aspen-lined driveway.
She stopped to touch one of the trees, the one nearest the
walkway.
“Hello?” Shannon called out tentatively. A man carrying
a trash can stopped by the side of the house and turned
around.
“You’ll have to make an appointment with the realtor
to see the house,” he called out. He turned and continued
on his way.
“No, wait… I’m not looking to buy!”
The man stopped again. He put the trash can down
and started removing his gloves.
“So, what are you selling, then?” The man responded
gruffly, and pointed to a photo album that Shannon held in
her hand.
“Oh this?” Shannon looked down at her hand. “These
are just some mementos. I don’t mean to intrude, but I’m
looking for something, it’s very important. Please,” Shannon
pleaded. “It’s so important now that the owner is selling
the place. You never know what new owners do to a
place. When we bought our...”
“Shannon! Please!” Tim interrupted his wife.
“Look, I’m really busy. I’ve got to get back to San
Diego tonight. I don’t have much time. Can you make
this quick?” The man glanced at his watch.
“San Diego?” Shannon whispered.
“Yeah...you from there?”
“No, Tustin. Can I ask you…no, it’s not possible,”
Shannon waved her hand in dismissal.
“I really need to get going, so if there is something…”
“Paul?” Shannon blurted out. She was trembling.
“What?” The man looked at her squarely. “How do
you know my name?” The man’s tone changed.
“Paul Marino. Your wife is Meredith.” Shannon was
feeling more confident.
“Yeah. Who are you?” Paul’s voice sounded fearful.
“I should have recognized you right away.You look so
much like your father!”
“You knew my father?” Paul softened.
“Oh, yes. And your mother. I was there...” Shannon’s
voice trailed off.
“You’re not that girl down the street...Sharon?”
“Shannon,” she said affirmatively.
“Oh my God, I remember you!” Paul turned toward
the house with a cupped hand.
“Hey, Merrie! You’ve got to come out here!”
“I remember your sister, too. Sarah.” Shannon started
to open her photo album.
“Yeah, Sarah…” The man’s voice was barely a whisper
as he looked to the ground
“What is it?” Shannon’s smile turned down.
“She passed away last year. Alcohol.” Paul shook his
head. Shannon didn’t know what to say. She looked at Tim,
who just lowered his head.
“Do you want to come in?” Paul nodded toward the
open front door.
“That would be nice, thank you.” Shannon reached
for Tim’s hand.
“It’s not much to look at,” Paul said while shuffling
toward the house. “Dusty. I’ve decided to sell the place.
My sister used to come up from Bakersfield occasionally—
but, well, now...”
“I understand.” Shannon nodded as she and Tim
walked into the house.
***
“This hasn’t changed a bit!” Shannon smiled as she
took a place on the couch.
“So, what is it you’re looking for?” Paul inquired.
“I’m not sure, really. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Shannon looked at the dusty nightstand next to the couch.
A stack of pink envelopes was somewhat hidden behind
the lamp.
“Sorry about the mess. My sister never really cleaned
the place. She just shuffled the junk from one spot to
another, I think!” Paul was obviously embarrassed.
“No, the letters! They’re here!” Shannon rose quickly
and gingerly took hold of the pink envelopes.
“Letters?”
“You don’t know? Oh, I have to tell you!”
“You were looking for letters?” Paul asked, still unsure
what Shannon’s excitement was about.
“No.”
“Well, what in the world are you looking for?” Paul
sat back in the easy chair.
“I know he meant something.” Shannon’s words came
quick as she lost herself in thought. “What your father
said, I mean.” Her limber hands lovingly caressed the envelopes.
“My father said something about what?”
“He said...Remember the stone....”
“Remember the stone…” Paul repeated the words
slowly.
***
“Yes, I know it’s strange but he was so insistent when
he mumbled those words to me. I know he was trying to
tell me something.”
“Shannon, please don’t take this the wrong way,” Paul
leaned forward, “but that’s ridiculous. An old man says
remember the stone, and it’s supposed to mean something?”
“I know he did mean something, Paul. His words have
haunted me all these years. It’s practically driven Tim crazy.
I keep dragging the family up here trying to figure out
what he meant.”
“Lady,” Paul said affectionately, “you have accepted
quite the mission! There must be ten thousand stones on
this property. That’s a lot of stones to remember.”
“Probably more like fifteen thousand,” Tim smiled and
rubbed Shannon’s arm.
“But there’s something more, let me explain.”
“Okay,” Paul said, getting comfortable in his chair. “But
I really do need to get going in a bit, so try and make this
quick.”
“It was eleven years ago, right here...” and Shannon
began to strip away the varnish of time.
©1995-2004 Edward Mooney, Jr.
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