The Weight of a Stone

Bartholomew and Oliver Cummings enjoyed spending summer afternoons in a secluded spot by the brook. They had discovered it when they were boys, and to brothers of five and eight, it was the most wonderful place to go and escape chores while inventing great adventures, fighting pirates or giant sea monsters. They never shared it with anyone, not even their friends, keeping it to themselves so the magic of the place couldn't be spoiled.

As they grew older, their secret spot became a good place to settle arguments without parental interference. It was the perfect hiding place for Bartholomew when he brought home bad report cards from school, which was a common occurrence, while Oliver would sit with a fishing pole and a book for hours.

One day, ten years after the discovery of the secret place, however, all of the allure was destroyed.

"My little brother and I have been coming here since we were kids." Oliver said, pulling a branch aside with one hand, and holding Lisa Baker's hand in the other.

"It's beautiful.” she told him, surveying the brook and the trees, enchanting green eyes snagging on wild flowers and butterflies.

"It's always been a great place to get away." he explained, leading her to the water's edge. "I've never shown it to anyone else, before."

"Why are you showing it to me, then?" she asked him. She looked so beautiful, her green eyes looking up at him, smiling so sweetly. He brushed a strand of blond hair out of her face, leaning down to press his lips against hers. Her arms came up around his broad shoulders as she sank into the embrace.

Holding her, he felt such a wash of emotions, but most of all, there was a desire. He wanted her to be his, and she did not protest as he lowered her gently to the soft ground. Tenderly, he caressed her body with his hands, exploring. He had dated girls before, but never had he been so bold. He told her of his desire, and she opened herself up to him, making love with him on the bank of the brook. His head spun, his body aching with the pleasure, his thoughts only on her. He did not notice his younger brother watching from a distance, hidden from view as he sat up in a tall tree.

It was several days before he went back to the brook, toting along his fishing pole, wanting to sit quietly and think for a while. His life was changing. He had college to think about, and his future. Lisa, of course, was in his thoughts, as well. He loved her. He thought that he could always love her...

"What have you done?" Bartholomew demanded as he cast his line. "What were you thinking?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Oliver replied, sitting on a large flat stone. "Go on, you're scaring the fish."

"I saw you," his brother snarled. "You brought that girl here. You had no right! You should have asked me, first."

"We're not boys, anymore, Bart." Oliver pointed out. "Lisa and I are in love. I wanted to share this place with her. She's special to me, and I wanted to let her know it."

"Well, you shouldn't have!" Bartholomew protested. "It's my place, too, you know. You had no right!"

"Listen, Bart, I'm sorry." Oliver told him. "If I'd known you'd become so upset, I wouldn't have brought her, ok? But it's done, and I can't take it back."

"Sorry's not good enough!" Bartholomew raged, his hands balling into fists.

"I don't want to fight you, Bart." Oliver cautioned. "We can talk about this later, once you've cooled off."

"If you think you're a man," his brother taunted, "then fight me! You've done it before!" as he said this, he swung at him with a fist, but Oliver anticipated and ducked away.

"Bart, cut it out." Oliver said sternly, but his younger brother plowed into his middle, tackling him to the ground. "Bart!"

Angry, now, Oliver fought back, trying to put Bartholomew in his place quickly, so neither of them would be too badly hurt. A shove sent the younger boy sprawling into the water.

"That's enough!" Oliver shouted. "Now, cool off and go home!" but his brother didn't move. "Bart, come on! It's over. I won. Get out of there." This time, when the younger boy refused to listen, he reached in, hauling him out by his shirt. "Go home," he commanded again, but he froze when he saw the look on his brother's face, eyes opened and unblinking, a glassy sheen that chilled him to the marrow of his bones glazing them over. "Bart?" he asked, his hand going to his brother's neck, searching for a pulse. "Bart?"

In a panic, he tried compressing his brother's chest, hoping that maybe there was water in his lungs and he could save him, but no water came out and Bart's eyes remained fixed. Without thinking, he picked him up and ran, shouting for help. None came, so he set his brother down on the kitchen floor, picking up the phone.

"It's my brother," he said urgently after the 911 operator answered his call. "I think he might be dead."

The paramedics came, but answered his questions grimly. His parents arrived home, his mother cried, his father sat wordlessly on the driveway, in shock. The medical examiner told them after the autopsy that Bartholomew was killed by a blow to the head.

"I didn't hit him," Oliver insisted when the officer asked. "Not in the head. I pushed him into the brook. I tried to get him to leave me alone, but he was angry. I had to defend myself!"

Bartholomew Cummings' death was ruled an accident. His head, they determined, had struck a large rock when he fell. Oliver was free to go. He forgot about school and college, Lisa and the future. His nights were haunted with bad dreams and his days with horrible memories. His brother had died because of him, no matter what the police ruled. He did not go back to the place Bartholomew had died until the anniversary of the accident. He went there alone, and was never seen alive again

Oliver Cummings' death was ruled a suicide. He was found by Lisa Baker at the bottom of a small brook two days after his disappearance. It appeared that the had lain on his back in the water, weighted down with a stone.