"Then you'd better stop this rattle-trap of yours." Pearce gestured at
the trees, now almost abreast of the coupe. "Not that the fact we've
arrived has anything to do with it."
* * * * *
Fuller turned the car into a stretch of grass beside the road and
braked to a stop. "End of the line!" he announced. Then he glanced at
Pearce in uneasy speculation. "Or is it? I hope it doesn't take a stiff
hike to get to your boyhood Eden."
"Quit griping," Pearce said. "We're almost there now. And don't forget
I promised that this is going to be worth your trouble."
"I'll bet!" Fuller muttered. Despite his skeptical tone, his blue eyes
lingered on Pearce in veiled wonder.
Pearce let himself stiffly out of the car. Ellen followed, glancing
about her curiously. She was a slim, graceful girl, dark, yet with a
quality of glowing vividness. Her shining hair had been cut short in
the current fashion, its boyish effect offset by her large, lustrous
eyes and full red lips.
She stretched on tiptoe, for a moment standing motionless and
statuesque. Pearce watched her with a sudden, flashing intensity. Pain
touched him, and regret.
But it was too late--too late even to think of what might have been....
She turned. "This is a wild, lonely-looking place you've dragged us out
to, Andy."
He nodded, his gray eyes kindling with memories. "It hasn't changed
since I was a kid. Except for the road. It's got gravel on it now."
"What, no red carpet?" Fuller asked in mock surprise, as he too emerged
from the coupe. "A lousy welcome for our boy Andy. No red carpet."
"Cut it out," Ellen admonished. "These aren't the surroundings for low
comedy. Let's just be simple, sociable folk enjoying a picnic. Bring
out the eats, and we'll get started."
Looking exaggeratedly chastened, Fuller opened the trunk at the rear of
the coupe and began handing out objects. There was a basket of food,
blankets, a record player, and a cardboard carton containing beer
packed in dry ice. There was also a large suitcase belonging to Pearce.
Fuller hefted this exploratively. "Just a little something for the
picnic," he said, glancing at Ellen. "That's what Andy told me when he
put this hunk of luggage in the car. Why, it's as heavy as the national
debt!"
"Nobody's asking you to carry it," Pearce said mildly.
"No--but I wish I could figure out what you're up to," Fuller returned.
Pearce shook a warning finger, "If wishes were limousines, the accident
toll among joy-riding beggars would be terrific."
"Very funny." Fuller turned to Ellen again. "Do you think it's decent
of Andy to worry his friends like this?"
She studied Pearce a moment, her dark eyes solemn. Then she moved her
slim shoulders in a philosophical shrug. "Since we've come this far, I
guess we'll just have to put up with it."
"That's the spirit!" Pearce said. "Just put your lives in my hands,
little ones--and let the insurance premiums fall where they may."
He bent to pick up the suitcase and the record player, hoping that
he had moved quickly enough to hide the pain and unhappiness that
had momentarily showed in his face. The situation was proving more
difficult than he had thought it would be. He had hoped to make the
picnic a light-hearted affair, to keep Fuller and Ellen from suspecting
at the very outset that something unusual was taking place.
* * * * *
He strode into the woods. Fuller followed with the blankets and the
beer carton, and Ellen with the basket of food.
The glade proved easy enough to locate. It was smaller than Pearce
remembered, but the semi-circle of large stones along one side was
much the same. The trees that rose all around gave their old effect of
seclusion, of shutting out the world. Beyond the enclosure they made
were the shadows cast by inter-laced boughs, and through these came the
plaintive cries of birds, somehow like the sound of waves on an island
shore.
Pearce glanced around him slowly, relishing the familiarity of the
scene, his thoughts leaping a chasm of fifteen years. One memory in
particular was suddenly very vivid.
"So this is the place, Andy," Ellen said behind him. "Why, it's just
perfect!" She swung to Fuller. "Don't you think this is worth the
drive?"
"I refuse to give my opinion until I've had enough beer to put me in
the proper mood," Fuller growled.
"Start opening it, then," Ellen said. "I'll get the food ready."
They ate seated on the blankets, around the appetizingly laden
tablecloth Ellen had spread. Pearce was too intense to have much of
an interest in food, but he managed to consume what normally would
have been expected of him. He was sharply aware that the minutes
were running out, that the deadline was now swiftly approaching. The
knowledge strengthened the undercurrent of dread within him, brought a
pang of sadness.
But he did not want these last moments with Ellen and Dave to be
touched with melancholy, nor did he want them to sense his troubled
emotional state. He helped to keep a casual conversation going, and
whenever this threatened to lag, he started the record player.
Shadows deepened within the glade as the afternoon wore on. Pearce
helped Ellen to clean up the picnic remains, then sprawled beside
Fuller to finish what was left of the beer. From the record player came
the strains of a symphony. Ellen seated herself nearby, tapping one
slender foot in time to the music.
Distractedly Pearce thought of the fleeting, precious minutes. He
glanced at his watch.