"Oh my Lord, you have."

"I've done nothing."

"Don't lie to me!" Momma demanded, her hands clutched into bony fists. "You must pray, Jo-Beth!"

"I don't want to pray. I came wanting help from you, that's all. I don't need prayers."

"He's got into you already. You never spoke this way before."

"I never felt this way before!" she replied. Tears were perilously close; anger and fear all muddled up. It was no use listening to Momma, she wasn't going to provide anything but calls to prayer. Jo-Beth crossed to the door, her momentum enough to warn Momma that she wouldn't be prevented from leaving. There was no resistance. Momma stepped aside and let her go, but as she headed down the stairs called after her: "Jo-Beth, come back! I'm sick, Jo-Beth! Jo-Beth! Jo-Beth!"

Howie opened the door to his beauty in tears.

"What's wrong?" he said ushering her in.

She put her hands to her face and sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her. "It's OK," he said. "Nothing's that bad." The sobs diminished steadily, until she disengaged herself from him and stood forlornly in the middle of the room, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story. It goes way back. To your mother and mine."

"They knew each other?"

She nodded. "They were best friends."

"So this was in the stars," he said, smiling.

"I don't think that's the way Momma sees it."

"Why not? Son of her best friend-"

"Did your mother ever tell you why she left the Grove?"

"She was unmarried."

"So's Momma."

"Maybe she's tougher than my-"

"No, what I mean is: maybe that's more than a coincidence. All my life there's been rumors about what happened before I was born. About Momma and her friends."

"I know nothing about this."

"I only know bits and pieces. There were four of them. Your mother; mine; a girl called Carolyn Hotchkiss, whose father still lives in the Grove, and another. I forget her name. Arleen something. They were attacked. Raped, I think."

Howie's smile had long since disappeared.

"Mother?" he said softly. "Why did she never say anything?"

"Who's going to tell their kid they were conceived that way?"

"Oh my G.o.d," Howie said. "Raped..."

"Maybe I'm wrong," Jo-Beth said, looking up at Howie. His face was knotted up, as though he'd just been slapped.

"I've lived with these rumors all my life, Howie. I've seen Momma driven half-mad by them. Talking about the Devil all the time. It used to scare me so much, when she started talking about Satan having his eye on me. I used to pray to be invisible, so he couldn't see me."

Howie took his spectacles off and threw them on to the bed.

"I never really told you why I came here, did I?" he said. "I think...think...think it's time I did. I came because I don't have the first clue as to who or what I am. I wanted to find out about the Grove and why it drove my mother out."

"Now you wish you'd never come."

"No. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. Wouldn't have-have...have...fallen in love-"

"With someone who's probably your own sister?"

The slapped look slackened. "No," he said. "I can't believe that."

"I recognized you the moment I stepped into Butrick's. You recognized me. Why?"

"Love at first sight."

"I wish."

"That's what I feel. It's what you feel too. I know it is. You said it is."

"That was before."

"I love you, Jo-Beth."

"You can't. You don't know me."

"I do! And I'm not going to give up on that because of gossip. We don't even know if any of this is true." In his vehemence, all trace of his stammer had disappeared. "This could be all lies, right?"

"It could," she conceded. "But why would anybody invent a story like that? Why did neither your mother nor mine ever tell us who our fathers were?"

"We'll find out."

"Who from?"

"Ask your momma."

"I already tried."

"And?"

"She told me not to go near you. Not to even think of you..."

Her tears had dried as she'd told the story. Now, thinking of Momma again, they began to flow. "But I can't stop that, can I?" she said, appealing for help from the very source she'd been forbidden.

Watching her, Howie longed to be the holy fool Lem had always called him. To have the freedom from censure only idiots, animals and babes-in-arms were granted; to lick and lap at her, and not be slapped away. There was no denying the possibility that she was indeed his sister, but his libido vaulted taboo.

"I think maybe I should go," she said, as though sensing his heat. "Momma wants the Pastor."

"Say a few prayers and maybe I'll go away, you mean?"

"That's not fair."

"Stay awhile, please," he coaxed. "We don't have to talk. We don't have to do anything. Just stay."

"I'm tired."

"So we'll sleep."

He reached and touched her face, very lightly.

"Neither of us got enough sleep last night," he said.

She sighed, and nodded.

"Maybe it'll all come clear if we just let it be."

"I hope."

He excused himself and went through to the bathroom to empty his bladder. By the time he got back she had taken off her shoes and was lying on the bed.

"Room for two?" he said.

She murmured yes. He lay down beside her, trying not to think about what he'd hoped they'd be doing between these sheets.

Again, she sighed.

"It'll be all right," he said. "Sleep."

II.

Most of the audience gathered for Buddy Vance's final show had drifted away by the time Grillo got back to the woods. They'd decided, apparently, that he wasn't worth the wait. With the onlookers dispersed the barrier-guards had become lax. Grillo stepped over the rope and approached the policeman who looked to be in charge of the operation. He introduced himself, and his function.

"Can't tell you much," the man replied, in answer to Grillo's questions. "We've got four climbers going down now, but G.o.d knows how long it'll take to raise the body. We haven't found it yet. And Hotchkiss tells us there's all kinds of rivers under there. The corpse could be in the Pacific for all we know."

"Will you work through the night?"

"Looks like we'll have to." He looked at his watch. "We've got maybe four hours of daylight left. Then we'll be relying on the lamps."

"Has anybody investigated these caves before?" Grillo asked. "Are they mapped?"

"Not that I know of. You'd better ask Hotchkiss. He's the guy in black over there."

Again, Grillo made his introductions. Hotchkiss was a tall, grim individual, with the baggy look of a man who'd lost substantial amounts of weight.

"I understand you're the cave expert," Grillo said.

"Only by default," Hotchkiss replied. "It's just that n.o.body knows any better." His eyes didn't settle on Grillo for a moment, but roved and roved in search of some place to rest. "What's below us...people don't think much about."

"And you do?"

"Yeah."

"You've made some kind of study of it?"

"In a strictly amateur capacity," Hotchkiss explained. "There's some subjects just take hold of you. This did me."

"So have you been down there yourself?"

Hotchkiss broke his rule, holding his gaze on Grillo's face for a full two seconds before saying: "Until this morning these caves were sealed, Mr. Grillo. I had them sealed myself, many years ago. They were-they are-a danger to innocents."

Innocents, Grillo noted. A strange word to use.

"The policeman I was talking to-"

"Spilmont."

"Right. He said there's rivers down there."

"There's a whole world down there, Mr. Grillo, about which we know next to nothing. And it's changing all the time. Sure, there's rivers, but there's a good deal else besides. Whole species that never see the sun."

"Doesn't sound like much fun."

"They accommodate," Hotchkiss said. "As we all do. They live with their limitations. We're all of us living on a fault line, after all, which could open up at any moment. We accommodate that."

"I try not to think about it."

"That's your way."

"And yours?"

Hotchkiss made a tight, tiny smile, his eyes half-closing as he did so.

"A few years ago I thought about leaving the Grove. It had...bad a.s.sociations for me."

"But you stayed."

"I discovered I was a sum of my...accommodations," he replied. "When the town goes, so will I."