"I do," he said harshly. "I don't need to practice too much to learn that lesson." He was trying not to be angry and frustrated, but I could see the battle within him had filled his eyes with fire and turned his skin cherry red.
I fumbled with my hair and realized my hair clip had fallen out. It wasn't on the sofa, so I looked beside it and then behind it.
"I lost my hair clip some place," I said. "It must have fallen behi
nd the sofa."
"I'll find it for you," he said and started to get up. "It's okay. I can do it."
I pulled the sofa back just a little and saw the clip. When I reached down for it, however, I saw something else, something that put a cold, shocking chill in my heart. It looked like the floor boards were parted. Light was coming up and through the floor. I leaned closer and realized I was looking down into my room, looking right over the bed.
"What is this?" I asked. When I raised my head, Cary was staring at me, a look of terror on his face.
"It's . . nothing."
"Nothing? It's an opening in the floor. Right over my bed."
"It was just there, just the way the boards settled or something. That's why I put the sofa over it," he said quickly.
When you're close enough to someone to see the love in his eyes, I thought, you can also see the deceit. Cary was lying.
"How long as it been there, Cary?"
"Since the house was built, I guess." He gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know."
I gazed at the hole in the floor again. I didn't know a lot about the structure of houses, but I knew that hole hadn't just formed there. He had obviously used one of his tools for constructing models to punch out the opening.
"Why did you do this, Cary?"
He shifted his eyes guiltily away and just sat there with his hands in his lap.
"I know you did this, Cary. Stop lying to me," I demanded, confusion again coming to take the place of my happiness.
He nodded.
"I did it when Laura started bringing him home and they spent time together in her room," he confessed angrily.
"Robert Royce?"
"Yes," he said, turning to me. He had his eyes squinted shut as he spoke. It was as if he were trying to block out some scene scorched on his brain. "I didn't trust him. I told her, but she wouldn't listen, so I thought I had to look in on her and be there if she needed me, if he . . . tried something."
"Don't you think she would have been able to stop him?"
He opened his eyes and shook his head.
"No. I don't know. What if she couldn't? I did it for her," he insisted. "I couldn't help it," he admitted. "But, I haven't looked down that hole at you, if that's what you think. I swear. I'm not a peeping Tom. Really," he pleaded, his face contrite with his effort to convince me of his need to have me forgive him.
"I believe you," I said, and he relaxed. "You should repair it though."
"I will. I just forgot about it," he said. "The sofa was over it, so I just forgot about it."
I nodded and put my hair clip back in. Then I started for the trapdoor. He reached out to take my hand.
"Melody, you don't think less of me because of that, do you?"
"No," I said. I smiled at him, but in my heart I was confused. I didn't know exactly what to think or feel at the moment. I needed time. "I better go down before everyone starts wondering where I am," I said.
"Maybe we'll take a walk after dinner or something."