Hadrian's Wall (29 page)

Even knowing that it was
an
irremediable
situation, I was depressed. It made no sense. I looked again
at the
horizon
,
seeing the sunset that would soon be gone. It was time to put aside
what I couldn’t have and focus on my goals.

“I’d like to ask a favor of
you, Charity. I know you’re playing nanny for me against your
will...”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head.

“No, please...don’t deny
it.
For some reason that I don’t
understand, you look down on me. Believe me, I didn’t intend
for Adrian or his father to involve themselves in
my problems. In fact, I didn’t ask either of them to do anything on
my behalf.” I thought it was a good time to clarify something that
had been bothering me since the first time she visited me in the
hospital.
“But
, if
you’re willing to do me one favor, I would ask you...I would like
to visit the
Polish Man Springs
Resort
.

An uncomfortable silence
dominated the interior of the Porsche. For a few minutes, nothing
happened and then abruptly she turned the car around and headed in
a different direction. It was not until we’d gone a few miles
before she spoke again.

“I don’t disapprove of
you,
but AC’s happiness is very important
to me. When I needed him, he was there for me.” Her tone of voice
was emotionally charged when she continued. “Adrian saved my life.
And the fact that he is...after so long...after so much
suffering...the fact that he is interested in the wellbeing of a
stranger, an unknown girl, that made me suspicious. I don’t want
him to suffer again.”

I tried to assimilate the meaning of her
implausible words.

“Come on! He just feels
sorry for me. It’s pity, nothing else.”

She looked at me askance, but remained
silent.

“It’s true, Charity! You
have nothing to worry about. Adrian could never be interested in a
girl like me.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes.

What nonsense! Surely,
Charity didn’t really believe that her cousin was into
me!

The conversation died and a
hush fell over the dubious void that was left by our words, but
their vibration was there between lines, regardless of their
absence. Only the sound of the wind was a constant, recognizable
sign. The town was behind and when I thought we’d gone too far, a
sign appeared on the roadside indicating the distance from this
location to the Mountain of Polish Man and Saint Paul
City.

Charity’s phone
rang.

“Hello? Yes, I know.
Change of plans. She wants to go to the
resort
. Okay, bye.” She hung up the
phone and set it back in its base.

Intuitively, I looked back
in time to see the F-150 gaining on us. I wished the windows
weren’t tinted because I wanted to see what Stephen looked like.
Maybe like Adrian? I bet he was older and had a stern-looking face.
At least, that’s how I imagined a bodyguard would look—maybe like
Kevin Costner—a tough guy...
competent,
serious, with a heart of ice and nerves of steel
.

We made another turn and the Mountain of
Polish Man became fully visible on the horizon—like a mountain
island surrounded by a sea of pine trees. I completely forgot about
Kevin Costner.

The road parted the lush forest down the
middle. The car plunged forward between the rows of trees that
flanked the roadway, forming a sort of shield against the sunlight
which barely permeated the branches. All that remained was
submerged beneath them in the shadows, causing a sharp drop in
temperature.

I’d never seen anything
like this before. Usually, trees grew somewhat apart from each
other; however, this forest seemed to be straight out of a Brothers
Grimm fairly tale—not real. The trees were too high, the branches
too extensive, the green leaves too abundant. Fantastic!

Charity removed her
mirrored sunglasses before entering a hairpin turn. Another sign
appeared, this one pointing to the
resort
.

The Porsche was now on a
dirt road that began to rise higher and higher, the road more curvy
as we climbed until we passed by a group of buildings whose sloped
roofs provided a unique visual to feast our eyes upon. To take
advantage of the fall of the ground,
all of
the chalets
were divided into symmetrical
levels, with multiple roofs, separated only by the chimneys. We
passed cottages with traditional clapboard siding, which gave me a
sense of
belonging... like
I knew where I was, even if the scenario was as
surreal as a fairytale.

Mmmm
... The visual effect it provided indicated to me that the
Mountain of Polish Man complex had been very well planned. Judging
by the architecture and ordering, it must have required a sizeable
investment to build it. I dare say that this was a high-level
guesthouse, intended for people who didn’t want to have to go
anywhere else to find everything they needed or wanted. It was all
there—entertainment, sports, leisure, shopping. How could anyone
even begin to suggest that I had stayed in this place?
Only if I’d won the lottery without knowing
it
.

Suddenly the car stopped lurching as the
roadway became smoother. The dirt road gave way to asphalt pavement
at the same point that the steep hillside became surrounded by
neatly trimmed shrubs.

Charity parked in front of the largest
building, which I assumed was the lobby. When I saw the national
flag flying in front, my feeling of belonging came back. I jumped
out of the car and waited for Charity near the steps.

“Let me do the talking,”
she said as she climbed the steps. Her command annoyed me. I was
not a child or a disabled person. Just because she’s given me some
clothes didn’t give her the right to...
Shit!
I hated owing favors to other
people precisely because of this kind of situation,
but
now I had no choice
but to
chill out.

The main entrance was
constructed with dark wood. It was look like a hunting cabin,
straight out of the Daniel Boone adventures. From where I was
standing, I could see the front desk and the interior stairway.
Ahead, an old beer barrel appeared, used as decoration in the lobby
which was subdivided into two separate areas...
similar to the upper terraces of the upper town in Hadrian’s
Wall
. I tried to imagine myself staying in
a place like this, but it didn’t seem even remotely
plausible.

Anyone looking at the
outside of this could never imagine its interior decor. It evoked
thoughts of the strange but wonderful balance of architecture and
urbanization presented throughout Hadrian’s Wall. The
resort
’s environment was
no different. Everything there clashed and complemented at the same
time.

The girl at the front desk smiled at us.

“Welcome to the
Polish Man Springs Resort
... Oh! How are you, Ms. Cahill? I see you’ve brought us a
new guest!”

New?

“In fact...” Charity leaned on the counter,
giving the girl a critical glance. “It seems that Melissa may have
been a guest here before. We want to take a look at your guest
register, please.”

I would also like to know
how much
I owe the
Resort
,” I added.

This was a dangerous game.
Because I’d had no money to pay for lodging, if I had been a guest
there, I owed them money. I decided to take risk, hoping to catch
them in a lie, since everyone insisted that I had stayed
there.

“If I was a guest here, why
wasn’t I presented with a bill?”

“You don’t owe anything.
Adrian Senior paid your account,” Charity informed me calmly, as if
she knew where I was heading with my question.

My previous assumptions were dashed.

The girl looked at me and then at Charity.
She was clearly uncomfortable with the tension she felt between
us.

“I
...I have to check the guest book,” she said.

“Do it,” I commanded.

Charity tugged at my arm.
“While she does
exactly
that, how about giving a good look at the room
where you stayed?” She turned to the girl, who watched us with an
anxious expression on her face. “What room did she stay in before?”
she asked.

The receptionist leafed through the guest
book before answering.

“It was number twenty-two—up those stairs
and turn right.”

Charity practically dragged
me through the lobby. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t let me
see the guest book first, since the girl had it in her hands. Once
we were upstairs, I noticed that Charity opened the door without
using a key.

For a few minutes, I looked
around the room, which was cozy and tidy, but it didn’t evoke any
memories.

“I think this is not going to work,” I
said.

She frowned, looking worried, but her
concern sounded fake, as if she was distracted by other thoughts.
“Are you sure? No recollection?”

“No.”

I left the room without
waiting for her. I really wanted to take a look at the book. I was
still annoyed at Charity’s intrusion. It provided an excellent
incentive for me to take action, so I flew downstairs like a
rocket.

I found the receptionist
talking in a low voice with a tall man, dressed in black, who
quickly left the room when he saw me. He didn’t greet me. If he
worked for the
Resort
, he should have assumed I was a guest. I’d give him a zero
for his poor job performance.

The girl was still holding the book like a
life preserver. I approached with outstretched hand, unconcerned I
seemed arrogant or not. She was going to show me the register even
if I had to pull it out of her hands.

I think she girl realized what I intended to
do and quickly laid the guest registry open on the counter in front
of me. “Here it is, Ms. Baker.”

It took a few seconds to find the entry that
interested me. On the line that the girl pointed to appeared the
room number, date and time of registration, the name of the guest
(me)... and my signature!

That’s impossible!
But really it was my signature...
at least it seemed to be my
signature
. I stared in
disbelief.

“Can we go now?” Charity said, suddenly
appearing at my side, sounding anxious. “I think you have your
proof, right?”

I was livid. “Wrong!” I turned and ran out
the door like a madwoman.

“Melissa, wait!” Charity called me, but I
had already headed in the direction of the trees.

I don’t even want to know!
For all I care, she can stand them screaming until she’s
hoarse!

Adrian had told me that
I’d got lost in one of the
hiking
trails.
I was determined to find that
place. I wanted to know exactly where I’d forgotten about myself. I
had to do it without those conspirators around me. Yes...that’s
exactly what they are—a gang of conspirators!

Looking over my shoulder,
I realized that Charity was behind me, but she’d stopped to answer
her phone.
Great!
I kept running until there was nothing around me except the
very tall trees casting their shadows across the
trail
. The silence
weighed on me. There was only the sound of my hard breathing and my
heart pumping fast.

I heard a bird far away
and shuddered. It sounded mournful, dismal, uttered by
a...crow?
I had
goosebumps
.

Farther along the path
where the track became subdivided, a dense fog quickly settled
around the tree trunks
That’s odd. Haze in
the sunniest afternoon that I’ve seen since I left the hospital!
How is this possible?

I was overtaken by fear.
Surely I was having another crisis. Soon the winged beast would
emerge over the tops of the trees, but instead of him, a
mantle-shaped shadow rose slowly from the center of the fog. The
mist had completely enveloped me, so dense that I couldn’t find my
way back.

The person in the mantle
knelt down without paying any attention to me.
She was
performing mechanical,
repetitious movements. I heard the sound of what? Water? It was
then that I realized there was a small stream nearby. The person
was washing clothes. Wow! What a relief.

“Hello!” I said.

The shadowy figure looked up. The hood fell
back, revealing the face of a very old woman. Her white hair was
disheveled. Her face was emaciated and riddled with sores. She had
two large white orbs in place of eyes. I realized that I was faced
with another incredible character.

I jumped back when the woman opened her
toothless mouth; however, no words came out. What emerged was a
loud sound like a winch and it hurt my ears.

“Miss Baker,” said a low male voice from
behind me.

I turned around and came to realize that I
was looking at the mysterious owner of the F-150 standing very
close to me. He looked like a boy—maybe a little older than me, but
still a boy.