He mumbled a yes.
“Then I’m sure you would have heard her. She knew you were close by. Maybe she just eased on in her sleep.”
He gave another unintelligible muttered response. I wrapped my arm tightly around my stomach, wishing I could pull him into a hug. His grief was going to be heavy, since he had been his mom’s primary caregiver for years.
“Your mom died at home, which was what she told me she wanted, Jonas,” I continued, gaining momentum. Was I the first person Jonas had called? “She didn’t want to be hooked up to machines at the end. She wanted to hear the wind in the trees and the cows lowing, just like she’d heard all her life. She wanted to have her favorite things around her and her family nearby. I have to believe God granted her that wish.”
“I guess,” he said bleakly.
I didn’t want to ask about funeral plans for his mom, because he didn’t need to mentally go there yet. But I knew one thing for sure. I’d be taking a trip to Upstate New York in the very near future.
2
Stone didn’t ask questions when I walked into the theater room, my eyes wet with tears, and told him I needed to get back to my carriage house because there’d been a death at home. He simply walked me back to my place and acted…well, just like his name—a regular rock.
My mom called later that night to check in with me. Jonas had asked if she could come over and help him get his mother ready for the mortician. Mom sounded shaken by her longtime neighbor’s death—probably because Naomi hadn’t been much older than her. But she reassured me that Naomi had looked peaceful. She confirmed my idea that the sweet woman had died in her sleep.
My psychologist sister, Katrina, called soon after. Given the nature of her questions, it was clear that Kat was probing around to see how I was doing with things. She understood that I had counted Naomi as one of my friends. I was able to keep it together as I spoke to Katrina, mostly since Mom had assured me that Naomi’s death hadn’t been prolonged or painful.
I finally got to sleep, even though I could almost feel Jonas weeping next to me. It was the strangest thing.
The next morning, Red showed up at my door with a basket of baked goods from Susan. Word had spread quickly that someone I’d cared for had died, and I was grateful for my friends’ concern. I accepted an awkward half-hug from Red, then retreated into my house.
After pouring myself a mug of black coffee, I pulled a cream-filled tart from the basket and took a brief moment to savor the first bite. But I couldn’t sit around lollygagging. I needed to make some adjustments to my work schedule.
I located the phone number for my upcoming client and left a message that I’d likely be out of town next week, so I wouldn’t be able to house-sit her Pomeranian. I suggested she call Chrissy Rogers, a reliable pet-sitting friend from Manhattan. I hoped Chrissy wouldn’t steal my business here in Greenwich, but there was little chance of that, since she refused to sit exotic animals, which had quickly become my forte. Dogs and cats weren’t the norm for me—more like turtles and goats and snakes.
I pulled up Jonas’s name on my phone contacts and considered calling him, but I figured he’d be swamped with things to do. I was glad he had hired farm help who could continue chopping corn in his absence.
My phone started vibrating, and I glanced at the screen, hoping Jonas had decided to call me. But it was Ava Fenton, my older and eminently wealthier Greenwich friend. Up until last week, she’d been housing a friend of mine—Evie Grady—but Evie had recently moved back to England to be close to her parents. Ava liked having people in her home, so I figured she was already dealing with some sort of empty nest syndrome.
“Belinda, won’t you come over for a little gathering tomorrow night? I know it’s supposed to be chilly, but Adam is determined to fire up our new outdoor brick oven. I promise I won’t invite that dreadful Leo Cushing again.”
I grimaced. Leo Cushing was a well-to-do widower who had made every attempt to woo me during the last dinner party I’d attended at the Fenton mansion. After overhearing one of his obnoxious advances toward me, Ava had apologized for seating me near the old bore, and she hadn’t stopped apologizing since. I hadn’t the heart to tell her that I’d scared the old coot off myself by launching into a detailed explanation of what went into feeding a ball python. The poor man was positively green around the gills by the end of dinner, and I had the feeling he wouldn’t willingly show up at any events he discovered I was attending.
“I’d love to, Ava, but I need to stick around since there’s a chance I’ll be packing soon to head up to my parents’ place. A friend has died, and I want to attend the funeral.”
Ava rushed to comfort me. “Oh, I’m so very sorry. Of course. Perhaps another time, dear.” She hesitated. “Have you seen much of Stone the fifth lately?”
Ava was convinced that Stone was in love with me, so I often found myself trying to convince both her and myself that he probably wasn’t.
Yet somehow all my protests rang hollow, even to my own ears.
“He’s around,” I hedged.
Ava launched into a round of fresh gossip. One of Adam’s yacht club friends had overheard Stone the fifth saying he preferred blondes. He’d also mentioned that he liked smart and fearless women. So, by extension, Ava had inferred that he’d definitely been talking about me.
I told her he could’ve been talking about any number of Greenwich women, since the majority of them are blonde.
“But they’re not all smart and fearless, like you,” she argued.
I rolled my eyes and told Ava I had to make some calls. I hung up and looked over my list of clients for the next couple of weeks. I really should call them, but there was only one person I wanted to talk to.
I called Jonas.
* * * *
Jonas picked up immediately, and he sounded relieved to hear my voice. In the background, I could hear people bustling around.
“I’m at the funeral home.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “It’s a nightmare.”
“But you had everything lined up, didn’t you? I thought you and your mom made all the preparations months ago.”
“We did, but they’ve lost some of the paperwork—can you believe it? And they’ve ordered the wrong casket. The wrong casket, Belinda.”
He sounded ready to snap, so I made an attempt to talk him down. “I think you could use whichever one they ordered, don’t you? I don’t think your mom would care.”
“It’s some pink concoction with a fluffy pink interior. You know my mom. She would’ve been horrified by that much pink.”
I had to give him that. “Is anyone helping you deal with all this stuff?”
“Not right now. I mean, this was supposed to be a relatively easy task, just signing papers. Now the whole thing’s gone south.”
The last thing Jonas needed was to be alone with these distracting details. “What about your brother Levi—is he heading in soon from Alaska?”
“He’ll get in tomorrow, but the viewing is scheduled for tomorrow night. The funeral will be Monday at one.” He paused. “Were you going to try to make it?”
“What kind of a question is that, Jonas Hawthorne? I’ll be there tomorrow.”
* * * *
Larches Corner had already shed many of its fall leaves for winter, but I still felt a familiar thrill of joy as I rolled onto Main Street. My older Volvo, which I had named Bluebell, had made the three-hour trip with no hiccups, for which I was immensely grateful.
I patted her dashboard. “How about a little oil change while I’m home, huh? It’s overdue, and you’ll be in the best hands with good ol’ Cassius.” No one knew why Cassius Bollinger sported such a famous first name, but it worked in his favor. Once Cassius worked on your car and handed you the shockingly low bill, you plugged his name into your phone and swore off all other car repairmen.
Since I was
carefully maintaining the town’s 35 mph speed limit, I had plenty of time to gawk around. Just this summer, someone had taken over the coffee shop—aptly named The Coffee Shoppe—and expanded it into a bookstore. It was now called Literary Lattes, and I made a mental note to drop in on my visit. Jonas said the concept for the place was unique—it featured antique typewriters, framed black and white pictures of famous authors, and eating utensils that resembled writing implements. The book club met there once a month.
I finally pulled into my parents’ long driveway, which was lined with oak trees that had retained a few scraggly yellow leaves. I tried not to think about why I was home, but the moment my mom rushed out of the house, her blonde curls wrapped in a scarf and her arms outstretched, I had to brush away tears. I still had my precious mother, and Jonas did not.
* * * *
The viewing and the funeral happened so quickly, it seemed surreal. Jonas had managed to procure a solid cedar casket that looked simple yet elegant—perfect for Naomi Hawthorne. Both Jonas and his brother Levi had shaved their usual beards, which somehow made them look young and vulnerable. More than one single woman attempted to console the handsome brothers with a longer-than-necessary hug.
When the burial service concluded, I jogged up to Jonas and Levi as they trudged toward Jonas’s truck. I placed a hand on Jonas’s arm, his muscles straining in his fitted dark suit jacket. “I made you a chicken casserole and some bread, so I’ll bring it over tonight, okay?”
Levi glanced at me, then took a longer look. “Well, Belinda Blake, that’s mighty thoughtful of you.” His blue eyes twinkled. “I surely hope you plan to stick around and keep us bachelors company tonight, too.”
Jonas clamped a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder, as if holding him back. “Ignore him,” he said. “He hasn’t seen females for far too long in that fish factory or wherever he works.”
Levi’s brow crinkled. He wriggled away from Jonas’s grasp. “It’s an oil rig. But you’re right, I haven’t.” He turned to walk toward the passenger door, and I caught sight of a tribal-looking hawk tattoo peeking over his collar. That was new.
Jonas opened his door and stood there a moment. His silvery blue eyes were pale, like frost on a lake, and he held my gaze. “I’ll be out in the field until it gets dark, if you want to drop by then.” He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, then fell silent.
Levi cleared his throat, no doubt anxious to get home and relax after his long trip and the events of the day.
But Jonas lingered. As he listlessly adjusted his side-view mirror, my instincts took over. Loneliness radiated from my farmer friend, so strongly that I couldn’t ignore it. I stepped into his chest and wrapped him in a tight hug. Levi hooted something like, “You go, girl!”, but my ear was pressed tight to Jonas.
“It’ll get better,” I whispered, unsure if he could even hear me.
But he did.
“I know,” he said.
* * * *
It was just after dark when I loaded up the food. Mom had whipped up some kind of orzo salad that was chock-full of vegetables I was pretty certain neither Levi nor Jonas liked, but she demanded I take the entire thing over to them.
Although there were no machines in the fields, it was far from quiet as a pack of coyotes called to each other along the tree line. I used to hate their shrieking yips, but ever since I’d worked with actual wolves, coyote calls seemed to pale in comparison. I whizzed up to Jonas’s back door and knocked.
Levi opened the door, wearing a crisp white T-shirt. I could swear he flexed his muscles as he made a production of taking the heavy bag of food from me.
Levi had always been a flirt, but this was the first time he’d directed his efforts toward me. When we were growing up, he’d done all kinds of crazy things to get my sister’s attention. Being the total diva she was, Katrina never gave Levi the time of day.
Jonas came into the kitchen, obviously fresh from the shower. He, too, wore a T-shirt, but it was older and frayed around the collar. Although he was shorter than his brother, he looked far tougher, even without a tattoo. Jonas was not the kind of man anyone would try to pick a fight with, because he’d most definitely win.
He motioned to a chair at the table. “Please, have a seat. Levi, could you dish up some of the food? I’m starving.”
His brother’s smile faded, but he shuffled over to the kitchen cabinets to comply.
“Thanks so much for the food. Can’t wait to sink my teeth into it,” Jonas said. He absently picked up the local newspaper. “I guess Mom’s obituary came out today. Here’s hoping they printed it right. I had to submit it online, so you never know.”
He glanced at the paper, but instead of turning to the obituary page, his eyes widened as he read the front page headline. He slid the paper my way.
“Did you hear anything about this?” he asked, jabbing a finger at an article.
The title read, “Local College Student Killed in Hit-and-Run.”
3
Appalled, I quickly skimmed over the article. It said that Jackson Hait, a senior at the nearby community college, had been struck and killed sometime in the early hours of last night, in the alley behind the only bar in town.
I handed the paper back to Jonas. “I hadn’t heard about this, but Dad hasn’t gotten home from work yet. I’m sure he’s heard more than we have.” A hit-and-run was huge news, and people who came into Dad’s veterinary clinic would definitely be talking about it. Mom and I had been out of the loop, attending the funeral activities.
Jonas silently reread the article. Levi placed a piled-up plate in front of his brother, then shot me a furtive look. “Thanks, Belinda. It looks delicious.”
I gave him a brief nod, then turned back to Jonas. But I could feel that Levi’s gaze hadn’t left me, so I gave him another fleeting glance. He was staring at me like I was a drink of water in the desert.
Cute as Levi was, he needed to get a grip. I slowly and deliberately focused on Jonas again.
Levi finally said, “Okay, well, you take care, Belinda.” He took his plate and stalked out of the kitchen.
Once his younger brother was out of earshot, Jonas leaned in toward me and said, “Is Levi bothering you?”
So Jonas had been observing our silent exchange. I whispered, “No. I think he’s just sad, that’s all.”
Jonas nodded. “Glad you know him well enough to see that. Any other woman might think he was being obnoxious.”
“More likely, any other woman would fall all over him,” I said. “You might as well admit that you and Levi are pretty hot commodities in Larches Corner, my friend.”
Jonas gave a belly laugh. “You’re kidding me.”
“Not at all.”
Jonas took a huge bite of casserole and pointed at the article. “Something’s off about this story, Belinda. I can’t put my finger on it. Why don’t you take this home with you—you’re good at spotting things that don’t fit.”
“Sure.” I took the paper. This time, I glanced at the byline and realized my old high school friend Chloe Vail had written the piece. Chloe had always wanted to be a reporter, and although writing for the Larches Tribune wasn’t exactly a big break, I was happy to see she was doing what she liked.
“How long will you be in for?” Jonas asked.
“I’d thought about heading out in a couple of days,” I said. “I need to get back to pet-sitting, I suppose.”
He smacked his forehead. “Shoot! That reminds me. I meant to ask you about something yesterday, but things were so crazy. About a year ago, my mom heard of some baby homing pigeons that needed a home, and she volunteered to raise them. They turned out to be white pigeons, so she decided to rent them out for weddings and things like that. You know, they fly off like doves and then come back. Anyway, she took care of them as long as she could—cared for those things like babies.”
/> I nodded. Naomi had always loved birds of all kinds. She’d delighted as much in the hummingbirds that crowded her feeders as she did in the hawks that circled the woods nearby. She had several nice pairs of binoculars tucked near various windows in the house.
He continued. “Of course, I’ll have to unload the birds on someone else. I don’t really have time to keep track of them; besides, I’ve never had the knack for caring for them that my mom did. But that’s the problem—they need to be looked after for a little while, at least until I can re-home them.” He gave me an earnest look. “And since you’re an exotic pet-sitter, I wondered…” His voice trailed off as he let me fill in the blanks.
“If I could take care of them?” I thought a moment. “I’ve never dealt with pigeons before, so I’d have to read up on them.”
He looked at me so hopefully, I couldn’t say no.
I continued. “Um…sure, I’ll be glad to help out. For just a few days, you think?”
His shoulders relaxed as he carefully ate each piece of orzo in the salad, leaving the veggies in the dust. “Yes. I’ll let my friends know I’m looking to sell them.” He looked at his plate. “Good grief—I’m so rude. Have you eaten, Belinda? I was so hungry, it just short-circuited my brain and I started eating. Please, have some if you’d like.”
I shook my head. “You’ve had a long day, and I brought the food so you and Levi could just relax tonight. I know you’ll be out in the fields tomorrow.”
He nodded and took another bite.
I stood. “I’m going to get home. Maybe Dad’s back now, and I can ask if he’s heard any details about this hit-and-run.” I looked again at the photo of Jackson Hait. “He was so young.”
“Too young,” Jonas said gravely.
* * * *
Dad got home late, so I waited until after he’d finished supper to pepper him with questions about Jackson Hait’s death. According to him, nearly every person who’d come in had voiced some kind of opinion on the tragic death—some chastising Jackson for drinking too much, and others speculating as to who the heartless driver could have been.
Belinda Blake and the Birds of a Feather Page 2
