I was so worried about how dinner last night would go—and it was so good. Nobody freaked out about the YouTube thing—or the $.
I know I keep saying this, but I just love the people I’ve met here. Including Len and Mary Jean. I adore the animals. I’m thrilled about the chance to get more music experience, to learn from Aaron and Ted and the others.
I feel so lucky, and a month ago I couldn’t have said that. Didn’t think I’d ever be able to say that.
I’ve heard about “gratitude journals” for years. They seemed totally pointless, in my life, anyway. Now I finally have all kinds of things to write in one!
She closed the notebook, attached the pen by its clip and set the book on her nightstand. Next, she found a country-blues station on her laptop and let it play softly, lulling her to sleep.
* * *
ONCE AGAIN, RUSS called way too early, abruptly waking her from another vivid dream about Cord. This time the two of them were riding crazy-fast across a field. He was on Chief. She was on the Black Stallion...
Russell’s voice was practically trembling. “Hey,” he began. “I’m ready for our get-together. And I do have something else to show for my search.” He paused, as though waiting for a comment from her. “You’re going to be really happy with it,” he finally said.
“Thanks. We’re still good for lunch?”
“Yeah. I can’t wait till you see what I’ve got!”
“Me, neither. Pizza still okay with you?”
“For sure!”
When their call ended, Shallie got up, rousing Bandit, who’d fallen asleep beside her bed again. “Okay, my little man. Let me put on some respectable clothes and then down we go.”
Tail wagging, he met her at the door and they hurried downstairs, Shallie careful not to trip over him—or trip him up. Cord, who’d been in bed with her during a night of sleeping in each other’s arms, was already in the kitchen and busy making coffee, the usual scenario. He smiled. After some serious kissing and hugging last night, they decided they were both too tired for anything else, following the emotionally exhausting discussion with Carly. Tonight, though...
She moved toward him and he leaned forward to kiss her, a kiss that lengthened as she responded, putting both arms around him, her tongue meeting his. Before their embrace and their kiss could go too far—Tina would be joining them any minute—she released him and accepted the coffee he handed her. As he let the dogs out, she filled their bowls.
When the pack of two reemerged, she pointed to their breakfast and said, “There, dum-dums, as Brynne would say.” They didn’t have to be told twice.
Cord shook his head in mock disapproval. “She calls us that—or at least Eli, J.P. and me—not her canine guests.”
“True. Well, speaking of dum-dums but not really, guess who’s already phoned me?”
“Russ? Jeez, it’s barely nine.”
She yawned for effect, then said, “I’ll help out with the horses this morning, and then I’ll drive over. I can drop Carly off downtown if she wants.”
“Downtown?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure she’ll be thrilled about visiting Main Street.”
Shallie ignored his sarcasm. “Well, I’m not sure about thrilled, but it’s up to her.”
“Any further word from Eddie?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing yet. You?”
“Me, neither. Want to sit on the porch with our coffee. And some toast?”
“I’d like that.”
Once they were seated in what had become “their” chairs, Bandit and Smoky on either side, he said, “I’ll make a reservation at the place in Silver Hills today. Any evening that is or isn’t good for you?”
“Nope. Whatever you choose will be fine.” She gave him an exaggerated wink. “Like I have so many commitments in this town.”
“One more question. How would you feel about spending the night at the inn?”
“My answer is yes. Another unqualified yes. Does that take care of it?”
“Oh, yeah!” He grinned and she loved it. Loved the way his mouth widened and his eyes crinkled. “Exactly what I was hoping to hear.”
“Now, let me get that order of toast I promised you.” As he stood to go inside, both dogs came to their feet. “Guys,” he said, pointing at them. “Don’t need your help. Stay out here and entertain your guest.” Minutes later he was back with two plates of buttered whole wheat toast, small bowls of jam and peanut butter on the side.
And then they left for the barn to feed the horses and turn them into the pasture, except for Patience, the new addition. They spent an hour with her; she was already comfortable with them.
As they returned to the porch, Mitch and Tina arrived with Carly—who was happy to accept Shallie’s offer of a drive “downtown.” She had plans to visit The Real Bean, possibly get together with Lindsey, and Shallie was pleased she’d made a friend. Their conversation in the car was jovial and didn’t touch on what had happened the night before. Shallie dropped her off near the café, said she’d text her about the pickup time, then went directly to the pizza place. Damn, it was lunchtime. She should’ve called in her order, but ended up waiting only twenty minutes and walked out with a small veggie pizza and a large chicken parm.
Driving the still-familiar route south of town, Shallie reached the motel, encountering next to no traffic. Needless to say, there weren’t any other cars in the lot. Russ kept his decrepit old station wagon—inherited from Norm—in a falling-down garage behind the building. Sitting in her rental, she waited for several minutes, nervously wondering what to expect. Would this really be the clue they needed? Or would it add to the confusion about Christine Fletcher? Would it make her feel better or worse, more optimistic or disheartened?
Carrying the pizza boxes, she walked to the office door—which opened immediately. Russ gestured her inside.
They sat in the office, which had been further cleaned up, somewhat decluttered and reorganized since she’d last been there. They started with the pizza and a glass of bourbon Russ insisted on (hers with lots of ice). Shallie was more than a little impatient to have this conversation, but left the timing up to him. Finally, after he’d finished almost his entire pizza and she’d eaten half of hers, leaving the rest for him, he said, “You ready?”
It was all she could do not to shout, Yes! I’ve been ready for hours. But she simply nodded.
First he removed the remains of their meal, then poured himself another drink. He reached inside the top desk drawer and carefully handed her a crumpled sheet of paper. “I found this inside a cardboard box in the basement,” he said. “No envelope. She must’ve left it the night I overheard that phone call.” He paused for a moment. “Tell you the truth, I didn’t expect to find anything down there.”
It was a handwritten letter. From Christine to Della and dated September 12, thirty-three years ago, when Shallie was two.
Dear Della,
Thank you for being such a good sister—and wonderful aunt to Shallie. And thanks to you and Norm for understanding the danger we’re in.
My husband is after me again. He called here this evening. So I’m leaving now and trusting you with Shallie’s care. Try to get in with foster services to help pay for her needs. As you know, I have no money to leave you, just have a few hundred dollars in cash. I’ve left her birth certificate, as well. Please give it to her once she hits her teens.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I do know I won’t be able to get in touch. At least not for years. If ever...
Please tell her I’ve always loved her and always will. She’ll be on my mind forever. And please let Shallie know I’m doing this because I love her. I’m doing it to protect her.
Thanks to both of you for letting me stay here and for being the family my daughter and I needed.
Love
Christine
Shallie felt completely shaken. “But to be honest, none of this is...totally unexpected. Still, I should pass it, or at least a copy, on to Eddie.”
Russ agreed. “Uh, I have something else for you.”
Shallie could hardly imagine what that might be; having this letter was more than she’d ever dared hope.
He took another object from the drawer, this one a frayed and discolored photo packet. She accepted it, hands trembling.
She opened it. The photos—just five—were faded and the edges torn. Unbelievable as it might seem to most people, she’d never seen a picture of Christine Fletcher before. But this was unmistakably her. Reddish-brown hair, eyes the same color and shape as hers... The resemblance was clearly there. My mother.
One of the photos showed Christine holding a tiny baby. Had to be her. Had to be. Shallie turned it over to look at the back. “Christine and Shallie” was written in Della’s best handwriting, followed by the date: Feb. 10, 1984. She turned over another one; this time she was sitting by herself on the bedraggled gray sofa (no doubt still in Russ’s living room); she wore a too-large frilly yellow dress, the frills rather limp. “Happy 2nd Birthday, Shallie! June 21.”
There was one picture of the twins, sitting on either side of Christine on that same sofa. Another of Norm with his arm around Della. And a final one of Della bouncing Shallie on her knee.
Putting the photos down, Shallie knew she was going to cry. She sniffled and dragged the back of one hand across her face. She’d finally seen real evidence of her childhood, her earliest years. And the letter from Christine had changed some of her feelings about this woman, her mother. Who hadn’t simply deserted her. Who’d loved her.
“The pictures and the letter—they’re for you to keep. You could scan them or get Cord to do it and email ’em to Eddie. But they’re yours.” He shook his head. “I have no idea why Della never gave you these photos. She probably forgot she even had ’em.”
“We’ll never know. Doesn’t matter anymore.” The tears were more persistent now. “Thank you,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Here.” He stood up to get the box of tissues on his desk. She accepted one with another “Thanks,” and gave Russ a hug. He returned it, his own arms loose around her. Then he stepped back, picked up his glass and held it out. “Here. For strength,” he joked. “Not that it ever gave them much strength.”
Shallie forced a laugh and took a small sip. “I should go. Carly’s waiting for me. I’ll send her a quick text that I’m on my way.” She did, then glanced up at him again. “Russ, I’m so grateful.”
“Hey, we’ll see each other soon. And meanwhile, I’ll keep looking.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ON HER BRIEF walk to the café once Shallie had dropped her off, Carly checked her cell, leaning against the building’s corner. No emails from anyone she cared about. A few ads and sales “alerts,” the usual stuff, which she deleted. As she scrolled through news highlights, she suddenly heard a distressed sound from behind the Bean. A high-pitched shriek. Then, “Quit it! I know you did it. Don’t threaten me!”
The girl’s voice sounded familiar. Was that Lindsey Morgan? Carly wasn’t sure, but darted into the narrow alley between the Bean and the flower shop next door, phone held in front of her. She slipped behind the building, where the garbage and compost cans were kept. And yes, it was Lindsey. With Eric Worth standing directly in front of her.
Eric was muttering something about how Lindsey “better not say anything.” At least, Carly saw with relief, he wasn’t touching her. She ran toward them, yelling, “Let her go!” He kind of scared her, but she acted instinctively because Lindsey needed her help.
“Get lost,” he snarled.
“No, you get lost! ’Cause I’m calling the sheriff. And you know what’s going to happen then.”
Eric spat in disgust, narrowly missing Lindsey’s shoes. “Bitch!” He turned abruptly, shoving her away, and raced out of the alley. “Both of you! Bitches! You don’t know anything. Can’t prove anything.”
Carly took her friend’s arm. “Come on. We’re getting a coffee.” She led her inside, selected a table near the back, then hurried to the counter to order two coffees and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Not the healthiest—and probably not as good as Tina’s—but this was a time for comfort food.
Once they’d relaxed for a few minutes, Carly clasped Lindsey’s hand. “So what’s going on?” She’d begun to guess some of it, but why leave to guesswork what evidence could provide?
Lindsey closed her eyes for a moment. “You know, the whole thing about animals—cows and sheep and horses—being released from their pens and paddocks? Not stolen, but...let go? Well, I just found out that Eric’s behind it.”
Carly made what she considered a heroic effort to stay calm. Not to react. Still holding Lindsey’s hand, she said, “Tell me how you found out.”
Lindsey sighed. “His cell phone, of course. He had photos on it, selfies of him basically committing the crimes, and he was stupid enough to leave it on the table here while he went to the bathroom. And it wasn’t only him. Some of his loser friends, like Jeff Nolan and Freddie Lansing, were part of it, too. They’re in a few of the photos, so I know who they are.” After a tearful pause, she shook her head. “I’m sure he’s already deleted the pictures.”
“We can’t ignore this,” Carly said decisively.
Lindsey nodded.
“All right, I’m going to get Eli’s cell number from Cord right now, and then I’ll call him, make an appointment for us. Okay?”
Another nod.
Carly texted Cord with a vague message and received Eli’s private cell number minutes later. No questions from Cord, just the info she’d requested. She left Eli a voice mail, explaining that she and Lindsey urgently needed to meet with him. He got back to her in a minute or so, and said he’d see them at the office in half an hour.
Fortunately, Shallie turned up as they finished their coffee—Carly had missed her text. Lindsey told her what had just happened, how threatening Eric had been and that Eli was expecting them at his office. Shallie immediately offered to drive them. No questions on her part, either. Her only comment was a muttered remark about who the real “gate-crashers” in this town were. “And I’m talking about farm gates and paddock gates, but I’m sure you get that.” Despite the situation, Carly had to smile. She was more grateful than ever for Shallie’s unwavering support and her sense of humor. Her love, when you came right down to it. She was also convinced that she and Lindsey were destined to be friends.
Carly had no idea how this official visit would go and felt nervous about it—especially since they were providing the sheriff with proof that his nephew was guilty of a crime, currently the town’s most notorious—but there was no other option.
They left the café, and the two of them piled into Shallie’s rental.
* * *
ELI HAD BEEN waiting for them. His admin, Kathy Roberts, who was Perry’s cousin, ushered the girls into the private room he’d reserved for their conversation—and he wasn’t surprised to see that Shallie had accompanied them.
Once he’d heard the story, he had to admit, to himself, anyway, that none of this was the shock Shallie and the girls had probably expected. He should’ve had a serious talk with his sister, Sara, a lot earlier. Should’ve had a major confrontation with his nephew. Well, it was coming now.
He wished he’d acted on his suspicions, wished he’d taken them even more seriously.
During their discussion, he took careful notes. Then assured the three of them that this would be dealt with—firmly dealt with, and Eric’s misdemeanors, plus those of his “gang,” had just come to an end. Lindsey seemed worried about repercussions, and Carly knew that was because she and Eric had dated for a while, but Eli told her not to worry. He said she could call his pri
vate number anytime. Carly, too.
“Um,” Carly began awkwardly. “Can I ask what Eric’s family situation is?” She shrugged. “I don’t know anything about him, other than that he’s an asshole. Sorry! He’s your nephew and—”
“No need to apologize. His father took off years ago. No one has any idea where he is.”
“He always told me his dad was a hundred percent out of the picture,” Lindsey put in.
“True,” Eli said. “Zach Worth was a useless piece of shit.” He glanced at Shallie. “Sorry. My turn to apologize. I swear too much.”
Shallie grinned. “Not a problem for me. And sometimes it’s the most appropriate response.”
“And this is one of those times,” Carly said.
Shallie stood. “We should let you get back to work, Eli. Let us know if there’s anything else you need from us.”
He nodded. “Thank you for your honesty and courage,” he told the girls. “I know it was hard to report Eric—for a number of reasons.”
“Courage?” Carly repeated, sounding a little panicked.
“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.” He tightened his mouth. “I’ll make sure of that.”
When they’d left, Eli thought through his plans. First, he’d go to Sara’s and insist on seeing Eric. Then he’d seize his cell phone; if Eric had deleted the photos, Eli’s deputy Oliver would be able to recover them. He was a tech geek who had some very handy skills.
Charges might have to be filed, which meant Eric would need a lawyer. In the interim, until he knew where everything stood, he’d place the kid under the equivalent of house arrest. When he was finished with Eric—for tonight—he’d have to pay visits to the rest of his nephew’s so-called friends; Lindsey had listed their names. Then, tomorrow, he’d contact the various ranchers and farmers who’d been affected by their actions, who’d made complaints. He supposed there was a possibility they’d settle for reimbursement, apologies and serious community service from Eric and his companions. Not that he could suggest it; a decision of that kind was up to them.
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