"Sorry," he said. "Come on."
The water was cold, but once they were in up to their shoulders, it
warmed up, or they went numb.
"Is it okay?" she whispered, and now that they were in the center of the
cavern, the echoes crossed back and forth and took a long time to die
out.
"Listen," Andy said. "Just listen."
And as the echoes of his words died down, the winds picked up, and then
the words emerged from the breeze.
"Adam," his father sighed. Marci jumped a foot out of the water, and her
splashdown sent watery ripples rebounding off the cavern walls.
Alan reached out for her and draped his arm around her shoulders. She
huddled against his chest, slick cold naked skin goose-pimpled against
his ribs. She smelled wonderful, like a fox. It *felt* wonderful, and
solemn, to stand there nude, in the heart of his father, and let his
secrets spill away.
Her breathing stilled again.
"Alan," his father said.
"We want to understand, Father," Alan whispered. "What am I?" It was the
question he'd never asked. Now that he'd asked it, he felt like a fool:
Surely his father *knew*, the mountain knew everything, had stood
forever. He could have found out anytime he'd thought to ask.
"I don't have the answer," his father said. "There may be no answer. You
may never know."
Adam let go of Marci, let his arms fall to his sides.
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