'60s Song. Tom Dwyer

They walked further into a large, damp room. It had a dirt floor and stone walls with water dripping through cracks, and it had the stale smell of animals. In the center was a wooden table as old as the house itself. Small stalls built to hold animals lined the perimeter of the room.

      "That's where the slaves slept," Eva said, pointing her finger towards one of the stalls. “There are underground passageways that run from this basement right down to the creek out back. They use to put the slaves on small boats and take them further north. But many of them just didn't make it."

      "That's screwed up," George said, running his hand along the damp walls. He couldn't help but think about the cave he and Frankie had found under the river. Was all of this underground stuff somehow connected?

      Frankie stood close to Eva.

      "This is my history here. This is what happened to my people. And you know something, we're still running."

      Eva took Frankie’s hand.

      "I love coming down here and just walking around. It can be real scary down here at night. You can still almost smell the fear and hope that these people experienced as they moved north. It’s all around us.”

      The three of them stood quiet.

      "And you know something," Eva said, breaking the silence. "My father doesn't even know that this exists. He's always too busy to see what's right under his nose.”

      George turned towards Eva.

      "So how did you find out about this passageway?"

      "I was reading one of the old books in our library about the houses in this area. It mentioned secret passageways that lead down to the river. One day about a year ago, I was in the den looking at a book when I accidentally pushed a panel and the whole bookshelf swung open. I've never told a single person about this place. You two are the first to know. And now it's our secret."

      "You never told your father?" George drank the last of his beer waiting for an answer.

      "No, why should I? He wouldn't care. He's in his own little world."

      "What about this whole San Francisco thing? What does he think about that?" Frankie asked, picking up a rusted pair of leg irons.

      "He thinks it’s just a phase I’m going through."

      "What if daddy cuts off the old money, says that unless you go to college there won’t be anymore money coming your way?"

      Eva walked up to George and grabbed him by the chin.

      "You really hate people with money don't you, George?"

      Her question caught him off guard. He stepped back looking for his answer.

      "I hate them because I want some of the action. I don't want to end up being a white nigger, if you know what I mean."

      Frankie dropped the leg irons he was holding and turned to George.

      "You ain't smart enough to be a nigger, George," Frankie said.

      “Don’t use that word, George. It’s ugly.”

      George turned, and once again ran his hands along the wet, stone walls.

      “I didn’t mean anything by it, really. It’s just Frankie and me playing, okay? Let’s get out of here,” George said.

      "Wait,” Eva said, blocking George and Frankie. “You must both promise me you'll never tell anyone about this place. It's very important!" Eva looked back and forth at both of them. Frankie and George couldn’t help and think of their own secret place.

      "And, you both need to kiss me to prove that your word is good."

      She put her arms around Frankie and kissed him firmly on the lips while George stood and watched in amazement. Finally, Frankie pulled away slowly, looked over at George, then said to Eva, “You’re a real strange girl, Eva, a real strange girl.”

      Eva then turned to George. She grabbed his face and kissed him passionately. When they finally parted, she said, “Secrets are very powerful things between friends.”

      The three of them left the secret passageway and returned to the study, closing the bookshelf behind them.

      Later that the evening, after running out of things to say, they sat in the dark in the large living room, listening to music. Eva got a joint from her pant’s pocket and showed George and Frankie how to smoke it. It was the “Summer of Love” and anything was possible. The world was theirs to taste and experience. A Procol Harum song, “Whiter Shade of Pale” filled the house. The melody floated around them like a rich circle of smoke, drawing them all closer together as they drifted off into the music.