3 Treasure Under Finny's Nose

by Dana Mentink

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jack was about to explode. He’d gotten a frantic call from Louella about Paul falling down the stairs. He heard from the hospital that Paul’s condition was uncertain. And that was it. The uncertainty was killing him. Again he pounded a fist on the roof of his car, water streaming down his windbreaker.

  “Piece of junk,” he bellowed to the empty, rain-slicked street, straining again to catch a glimpse of Nate’s car.

  A cab approached from the opposite direction. Jack reached for his badge, ready to commandeer the vehicle, just when Nate screeched up to the curb. Jack jumped in and they took off, as fast as was safe through the storm. He gave Nate a look.

  “No word yet, man. They gave Louella a sedative. Bobby’s there.”

  He felt a surge of relief. “Thank You, God,” he whispered. At least Paul was not alone. There was someone there he knew and loved. He pulled out his cell and dialed Bobby’s number.

  She answered on the first ring. “Jack, I’ve been trying to call you, but the reception is bad here. Paul is having a CAT scan. We’ll know more in a little while.”

  “Bobby—” His throat closed around the words.

  “I haven’t been able to see him yet. I’ll stay right here until I do.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He clicked the phone off.

  They didn’t speak as they flew back towards Finny. Nate drove like a man possessed and both were silent for most of the trip. Before the car fully stopped, Jack was out and pounding up the steps into the building. Bobby looked up from her pacing and ran to him until they were wrapped together in a wet, drippy hug. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered in her ear.

  She swallowed. “It’s Paul. Where else would I be?”

  He could see the tears in her eyes when he let her go and began to prowl the hallway. “How long could it take to do a CAT scan?”

  “The doctor said he’d be done soon.”

  Nate joined them a few minutes later and handed Jack a dry shirt. “Mary’s bringing you a change of clothes when she can, but this will have to do for now.”

  By the time Jack emerged wearing the shirt, Nate had three cups of steaming coffee for them. Though he didn’t feel like drinking it, he did anyway, letting the liquid burn the reality into him.

  Paul was hurt. The wrist was the least of their problems. Jack had seen enough accidents in his career to know what a head injury could mean. Paralysis. Brain damage. Death. What would he do if Paul died, too?

  The thought made him shudder.

  He got up again to pace the floor, willing the doctor to come out and tell him, tell him what they hadn’t been able to when they’d brought Lacey in. Bobby and Nate sat in silence, watching him. They came to stand beside him when a surgeon in green scrubs approached.

  Jack’s mouth went dry. He tried to speak but nothing came out.

  After what seemed like an interminable pause, the doctor spoke. “Paul has sustained a concussion, but not a major one. The wrist will have to be seen by an orthopedist, but it doesn’t look like a complicated break. We’ll keep him overnight, but I think he’ll be just fine.”

  Jack gripped him by the hand so hard the surgeon winced. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

  Bobby sighed loudly. “Is Louella going to be all right?”

  The physician smiled. “Absolutely, but she can stay the night, too. She’ll be fine once the sedative wears off. I don’t think she’s going to let Paul use the stairs anytime soon.”

  Jack felt light-headed with relief. “When can I see him?”

  “Give the nurse a few minutes and then you can go in.” He waved as he left them.

  Jack flopped into a chair. Nate gripped his arm. “I’ve gotta go back to the shop. Mary’s by herself.” He gave a last squeeze and exhaled, the breath ruffling his mustache. “Good deal, man. Good deal.”

  Jack nodded, hearing the unspoken emotion in his partner’s voice. “Thanks, Nate.”

  “You bet.”

  Jack checked on Louella, who was sleeping, fortunately. There would be an emotional storm when she woke up, he knew. He returned to the waiting chairs and sat down next to Bobby. The hallway settled into silence.

  Bobby checked her watch. “It’s so late. I hate to disturb Aunt Ruth, but I know she’s waiting for my call.” She dialed the number. “Busy signal. She must be talking to Uncle Monk. I think I’ll wait to see Paul, if that’s okay with you, and then I’ll take off.”

  He reached out a hand to hers. “Of course it’s okay. I wanted to say, to tell you, how much it means to Paul that you were here for him.” And to me. Say it, you idiot. Tell her what she means to you. The emotion choked off his words.

  Bobby nodded. “I know. You don’t have to thank me.”

  He sighed. “I hate the smell of this place. It’s like it’s burned into my brain. Every time I come here I get a whiff of the cleaner or whatever it is they used the day my wife died. They probably don’t even use that kind anymore, but it still smells the same to me.”

  “But this time you got good news. Your son is going to be fine.”

  He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d never been so completely exhausted in his entire life. “I don’t know what I would have done if the news had been different. Losing Paul would be—” He couldn’t finish.

  Bobby took his hand and prayed out loud. “Father, thank You for watching over Paul. Thank You for keeping him in Your loving hands and delivering him safely from this accident. Bring Your peace down on all of us, Lord, and receive our deepest gratitude.”

  Jack spoke the amen along with her.

  Soon the nurse ushered them in to see the boy. He looked pale and small in the big hospital bed, a purple bruise showing on his forehead. Jack stroked his hair. “Hi, buddy. I heard you took a fall. Does your wrist hurt?”

  Paul shook his head, eyes half closed. “Uh-uh.”

  “That’s good. I was worried there for a little bit.” Jack blinked back the moisture in his eyes. “Miss Louella is sleeping here tonight in the room next door. Bobby is here to see you, too.”

  Bobby kissed Paul lightly on the cheek. “Hey, kiddo. You’re supposed to wear a helmet if you’re going to fall down the stairs.”

  Paul smiled and slipped into sleep. Jack and Bobby took up positions in the chairs. Jack tried to think of a line of conversation that would keep her there, near him, near them both.

  “You were right about the wreck, by the way.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “That’s why I went to Half Moon Bay. I talked to a salvage guy there who is also a history buff and he agrees with you. The Triton was a big bucket of coal, no treasure that would pique the interest of any profit seekers. I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “You might owe Ethan one, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

  It was his turn to blink. “Why?”

  “Aunt Ruth’s journal, the one Ethan and Sandy gave her. It refers to some sort of treasure called the White Queens, though the words were blacked out.”

  “What’s a White Queen?”

  “I don’t know, but Aunt Ruth was on the case when I left to come here.”

  He laughed. “Leave it to my two favorite women to ferret out another mystery. Do you think that’s what Ethan and Sandy are diving for?”

  “I don’t know. I would rather not think of Ethan as a liar, but it does seem suspicious.”

  He took a deep breath. “If it does turn out to be true, I’m sorry. I know Ethan is a friend of yours and I probably haven’t given him a fair chance.”

  She shrugged. “I’m sure he’s got reasons for what he’s been up to. I’m going to step out into the hall and try Aunt Ruth again.”

  Jack watched the steady rise and fall of Paul’s chest, more beautiful to him than the mesmerizing ebb and flow of the ocean waves. He was overwhelmed with an enormous sense of gratitude. God spared his son. He did not yet understand why the Lord took Lacey, and he probably never would. But Jack had Paul, and
he would die to keep the boy safe and happy.

  Bobby returned with a frown on her face. “Still busy. I think I’d better go home and check on things.” She walked to Paul’s bed and stroked a finger lightly down his cheek. “I am so glad you’re safe, kiddo,” she whispered.

  The sight of them there, heads bent close together, filled up his soul. Jack’s own voice came out in a whisper. “You really love him, don’t you?”

  She continued to gaze at the boy’s face for a moment before she turned her attention to Jack. Sadness washed over her fine features. “I do love him, a little bit more every day.” She looked Jack squarely in the eyes. “That’s why I’m taking the job in Utah.”

  The lancing pain in Jack’s chest did not go away, even two hours after Bobby had headed off to Ruth’s. She was leaving, for good. He should have run after her, but he didn’t. He stayed, rooted to the dingy tile floor, watching her vanish through the doorway.

  He felt a flare of anger. How could she leave? She loved Paul and he loved her. Was it fair to pick up and take off? The anger was quickly overtaken by despair. Why should she stay? Just to be a friend to somebody else’s kid? She had given him everything: friendship, sympathy, support, and he had given her nothing in return.

  He scrubbed a hand through his cropped hair. He’d thought the problem was the guilt he felt about committing to another woman after Lacey, but the revelation came to him in a flash. It wasn’t guilt. He was afraid, gut-wrenchingly, spine-chillingly afraid to love someone else and lose her as he had his wife.

  Paul stirred and mumbled in his sleep. Jack spread the covers more securely over him.

  Jack continued to puzzle it over. To love meant, perhaps, to lose. It was a frightening burden to care about someone else so much. But not to love? If he had the choice, would he rather not have a son? This precious kid who kept him awake with worry and wrenched his gut with indecision?

  Paul was the greatest thing in his life. To not risk, would mean to not have experienced that overwhelming connection. His head spun. What was he doing? His life was running by in a frenetic blur and the only moments worth savoring were the ones he spent with Paul. And with Bobby.

  But could he risk that kind of pain again? For them both? He watched Paul’s delicate profile. Could the child withstand losing another woman in his life?

  Ruth’s face flashed across his mind. She had buried her beloved husband and somehow, somewhere, she’d found the courage to start another life.

  He knew he had to talk to her. He needed to find out if he had what it took to love again.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ruth’s eyes flew open. She lay there, disoriented. The sound of a fierce storm battered the cottage walls. The time on the bedroom clock read 2:15 a.m. She wondered why Bobby hadn’t called. She lifted the receiver to dial the woman’s cell.

  No dial tone.

  “The storm must be messing with the reception,” she babbled to herself.

  She heard a thunk from the bedroom next door.

  Her stomach clenched. Maybe it was Alva looking for something. Or perhaps Bobby had returned. But why would she be in the nursery?

  Ruth grabbed a robe and tiptoed out into the hallway, inching her way across the creaky wood floor. She listened. All was quiet. Feeling chilled to the bone, she padded into the living room. There was Alva, snoring on the couch. The door to Bryce’s room where Bobby was bunked was open and dark. Again she heard a noise from the nursery.

  She searched for her cell phone to call the police. Where was the silly thing? With a sense of rising panic, she went to the sofa and gently shook Alva awake.

  “Whaaa?” he said, one eye open. “What’s a-goin’ on? Is it morning yet? I ain’t done sleeping.”

  “No,” Ruth whispered in his ear. “I think someone is breaking in, through the nursery window. The phone is dead, too.”

  Both of Alva’s eyes shot open. “Whazzat? A burglar? I’ll handle this.” He leapt off the sofa and charged into the kitchen in search of a weapon. He grabbed the first thing he saw, a crusty baguette, before he began to tiptoe down the hallway.

  Ruth tried to restrain him. “Alva, let’s get out and call the police.”

  “You just stay put, sweet cheeks. I’m ex military. I tangled with communists. I can handle it. Whoever it is ain’t got nothin’ on a commie.” He hitched up his baggy trousers and continued stalking toward the bedroom, his socks slipping slightly on the wood.

  “This is crazy, Alva. We need to get the police,” she hissed. “Come with me.”

  Alva ignored her. After a moment of deep breathing, he launched himself, shoulder first, at the nursery door.

  “No!” Ruth’s cry filled the hallway, but it was too late.

  The impact of the collision sent Alva’s spindly body rebounding back across the space. His head made a hollow thwop noise as he came to a stop against the far wall.

  She ran to him. “Are you okay?”

  He shook his head and pushed her away before he approached the door again, this time trying the knob. It turned easily in his hand.

  Ruth’s skin prickled all over with goose bumps and she struggled to breathe.

  The old man pushed the door open a few inches and stopped, readying the baguette like Don Quixote’s spear.

  “Don’t do it. Please.” Ruth’s voice rose on a tide of fear. “Alva, no!”

  With a deafening howl, he careened through the doorway.

  Ruth screamed.

  There was a crash and a high-pitched yell.

  She ran into the room and flipped on the light.

  Bobby lay on her back, covered in bread fragments. Alva sat on his bottom across from her, blinking against the sudden light.

  “It’s you,” they both said at once.

  Ruth was too stunned to speak.

  “Whatcha doin’ in here, Miss Walker?” Alva picked up the ruined baguette and absentmindedly stuck a wad of it into his mouth. “How’s Paul?”

  Bobby picked herself up in a shower of breadcrumbs. “Paul’s got a concussion, but he’s going to be okay. Why did you poke me with a loaf of bread?”

  “We thought you was a burglar. Heard someone breaking in. Why did ya come in through the window anyways? I wouldn’t have mashed you if you used the door.”

  Ruth was relieved to hear about Paul. She sank down on top of a cardboard box theoretically filled with all the parts necessary to build a playpen. Her knees shook. “It’s my fault, Bobby. I heard someone climbing in. I must have imagined it.”

  “No, you were right. There was someone trying to get in.”

  Ruth’s mouth went dry. “There was?”

  Bobby nodded. “I heard someone shout ‘no!’ from the house, and I figured the fastest way to get in was through the window. Before I could get there, someone jumped out and ran down the street. I saw a car pull out. Sorry if I scared you. Are you two all right?”

  Ruth nodded. “I think so, but the thought of someone breaking in terrifies me. What could they want?”

  Bobby shook her head as she helped Alva to his feet. “Something to do with your research maybe?”

  A light dawned in Ruth’s mind. “Could be. Maybe Sandra noticed the missing pages from her notebook and came back to retrieve them.”

  Alva snorted. “Woulda been a mite bit easier to ring the doorbell.”

  Ruth had to agree with him on that point.

  She filled Bobby in on her White Queens discovery while they called the police department and waited for Nate to arrive. Ruth contemplated calling Monk, but she decided it would only make him crazy with worry. There was nothing to be done. She was safe, temporarily, with Bobby and Alva for company.

  Nate came and left, after dusting for prints and promising to drive by several more times before his shift was over. Mary would take over in the morning. Ruth knew she should get to sleep, but her nerves were on edge. The babies must have been stimulated by her emotions because they kept up a rigorous rolling and tumbling match.

 
Bobby fixed them both some tea, and Alva fell to snoring on the sofa again.

  Ruth watched her from over the rim of her mug, noting the fine crease between her brows. “Bobby, what’s wrong? You look like something is bothering you, aside from all this, I mean. Is it Paul’s accident?”

  She shook the black hair out of her eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve—I’ve decided to take the job in Utah. I told Jack tonight.”

  Ruth tried to keep her expression neutral. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing.” The disappointment was evident on her face. “I knew he wouldn’t, but still. . .”

  “You wished he would have stopped you?”

  She sighed. “Yes, but he didn’t, and that tells me I’m making the right decision to go. I’m going to stay long enough to wrap things up here. I’ll still come and visit as much as I can.”

  “Things will not be the same here without you. Your uncle will be sad to have you move out of state, and so will I.”

  Bobby nodded, toying with her mug. The grief and determination revealed themselves on her face.

  Ruth measured her words carefully. “I will miss you so very much, but if that’s what you think is best, Monk and I will support you.”

  “Thank you. I’ve got to make a new beginning. It’s time for me to restart my career.” She yawned. “I’m going to lie down for a while. It’s been a long night. How about you?”

  “Yes, I’ll try to get some sleep, too.” She wondered if Jack Denny would be getting any rest that night.

  Bryce and Maude arrived at roughly the same time the next morning, only moments after Bobby left. Maude held a plate of wrapped cookies in her hands. Bryce stepped through the door and kissed his mother, said hello to Maude, and then disappeared.

  Ruth did not comment on the angry cast to his face. Don’t pester, she reminded herself. Don’t smother. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. She pulled her robe more securely around her middle and offered Maude some coffee.