Below the Tree Line

by Susan Oleksiw

  Felicity shook her head. “I’m not sure I would see anything at this distance, with the terrain as it is. The crow would have to fly over a small mountain, and that pretty much blocks what I can see. And I haven’t been looking anyway.”

  “Let’s keep going. We should spread out,” Jeremy suggested. “We can stay within sight and sound of each other, and even without cell reception we should be able to let each other know if we find anything.” The other two agreed. Each took up a position approximately forty feet apart and the trio set off into the woods.

  Felicity almost wished she’d brought Shadow and let him track, but there was no guarantee the dog would pick up the scent of her dad and follow it. She came to a squirrel stumbling about near a tree, falling on its back, and then crawling to a rotting log. It seemed to be looking for something on the ground. Any other time she would have given in to her curiosity, but not today. She skirted both squirrel and log, glad the trees hadn’t yet leafed out fully and she could see deeper among them. Every now and then she stopped to listen, but the area was settled in its silence.

  They hadn’t been gone long when Felicity heard a shout from Pat and headed in his direction. When she and Jeremy reached him, he pointed to a shoe.

  “That’s Dad’s!” Felicity picked it up. She felt the warmth of relief flooding through her.

  “It looks like he took a tumble and got his foot caught,” Jeremy said. “But seems he’s still on his feet.” He suggested they call in Kevin’s searchers, and did so.

  “We can go ahead on our own in any case. I don’t want to wait,” Felicity said. Pat agreed to wait for the police, and Jeremy accompanied Felicity.

  They hadn’t gone far when they heard a groan and the sound of a sapling breaking. Felicity hurried forward, and through the trees she saw her dad’s bright green sweater. She broke into a run, stumbling over downed branches, nearly collapsing into holes. And there he was, pulling on a sapling to keep himself erect.

  “Oh, Dad!” She walked up to him with her arms outstretched. But she thought better of embracing him when she saw the expression on his face. Walter O’Brien was looking at her as though she were the most peculiar person he’d ever encountered.

  He stumbled backward, landing on a boulder, which, fortunately, was high enough to serve as a rough seat. “No, no, you can’t be here. No one can be here.” He caught sight of Jeremy. “What’s that man doing here?”

  “Dad, that’s Jeremy Colson. You know him. We’ve been looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  “You left Pasquanata and everyone thought you were lost.”

  “I’m not lost. I know where I am. Why are you here?”

  “Walter, we thought you might like a ride back to Pasquanata,” Jeremy offered. “You picked a great day for a walk. The best time of year.”

  “I’m not dead. It’s a secret, you know. I know what’s going on.”

  “We know you’re not dead, Dad. And we’re very glad you’re all right.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” His face was flushed and his eyes skittered from one to the other, and then to the trees. “Why wouldn’t I be? Old Zekey’s gone. I’m not.”

  “You mean Ezekial Bodrun?” Jeremy asked. “That was his cabin we passed back there, wasn’t it?”

  “Smart guess,” Felicity mouthed to him.

  Walter looked harder into the forest, breathing heavily now and slumping on the rock. “I always keep my word. Old Zekey did too.” He swung around to stare at Felicity. “Why are you here? You don’t belong here.”

  Felicity managed to smile. “I found your sneaker. Can I help you put it back on?” She stretched out her hand with the sneaker. Walter bent over and sniffed the rigid, coiled black laces.

  “Sure. If you want. Don’t know why all the fuss.” He lifted his foot with effort, and Felicity knelt down and slipped on the shoe, pushing hard against the stretched-out socks and his swollen ankles.

  “I’m not sure he can make it all the way back to the road,” she said as she pulled on the safety laces.

  “The others will be here soon enough,” Jeremy said. “You picked a nice spot, Walter.” He leaned against the boulder and relaxed, looking around him. “It’s very peaceful here. I could stay here all day.”

  “No, you couldn’t. Neither of you.” He cast a wary eye at Jeremy and then Felicity. She hoped he’d calm down once he was back in Pasquanata, in a familiar setting. She wanted to ask him why he’d run off, but instead she waited in silence for the police to arrive and help them carry her father out of his beloved woods. Jeremy conducted a fractured conversation with her dad while she studied the trees, the slope of the land, and the boulders and rough landscape, wondering what it was about this area that seemed to mean so much to him. Whatever he’d been looking for, she would have to figure it out on her own.

  Six

  On Thursday evening, Felicity collected the sheep from their grazing among the old apple trees and herded them back to the barn. Shadow followed along, showing no sign that a dog would ever have anything to do with sheep except to avoid them. She maneuvered them into the barn, which wasn’t hard since they knew there’d be sweet grain waiting for them inside. Once locked in, they settled down for the night. Felicity was ready to set aside work and worries and enjoy an evening with a friend—dinner with Loretta Colson, Jeremy’s mother.

  She took one last walk around the barn. Like many others in the area, she was used to seeing narrow paths beaten into the earth around the corner of a house or barn or shed; coyotes ran in packs and liked to check out the neighborhood. Now that she had expensive sheep to care for, she watched for any changes in the landscape, just in case the coyote pack seemed larger or other animals seemed to be involved. She hadn’t seen the bobcat whose den she and Lance had come upon, but she knew it was out there.

  “Okay, Shadow.” She opened the door to her pickup and the dog jumped in. If nothing else, he was becoming calmer and learning to trust. He was also catching on to the rules of the farm. She held out her palm with a treat.

  A few minutes later she pulled onto the shoulder and parked in front of Loretta Colson’s house. But she didn’t get out of the truck. Instead she stared hard through the windshield. In front of the old Colson farm, where Jeremy lived just down the road from his mother’s 1950s ranch, sat a black Jeep SUV. Felicity gripped the steering wheel as she watched for some sign of activity, but no one came out of the farmhouse.

  After several minutes, she climbed out of her pickup. She clipped a leash on Shadow and let him jump down to the road. She would have stood in the middle of the pavement watching the Colson farmhouse if Shadow hadn’t pulled and whined and tugged his way to Loretta’s front door. Felicity didn’t even notice it was open until Shadow dragged her inside.

  “You can’t see anything from here.” Loretta slammed the door and headed through the archway into the dining room.

  Still absorbed by the sight of the black Jeep, Felicity barely noticed herself taking off Shadow’s leash and letting the dog run through the house where he’d stayed for a few days before moving to Felicity’s farm. She turned at the sound of a soft whoosh.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your first beer.” Loretta sat on the far side of the dining table and pushed a brown bottle across to her. “Sit.”

  “Did I just see what I thought I saw?”

  “I’ve got more in the fridge.” Loretta lifted a bottle to her mouth and took a long pull. Then she drew out a pack of cigarettes from a shirt pocket and tipped one out, offering it to Felicity, who shook her head. The candy dish now turned into an ashtray already housed four filters and mounds of ash. Loretta lit her cigarette and blew a steady stream of smoke up to the glass-and-brass chandelier. She was built like a piece of electrical wire—long and thin and mostly supple. Her hair was the same color as the cigarette smoke swirling above her.

  “That
black SUV,” Felicity said, sitting down with a thud. “That’s Marilyn Kvorak’s, isn’t it?” Marilyn Kvorak was a local real estate agent.

  Loretta pushed the beer closer to her guest. “Drink. It’s been a bitch of a week.”

  “You’re not talking about my dad running off or the dead woman on my land, are you?”

  Loretta shook her head. “Want a boilermaker?” She turned around to the buffet behind her and picked up the bottle of whisky. “I had two this afternoon after Jeremy left.”

  “Am I going to be upset, really upset?”

  “I hope not. I wish I were—dangerously upset—then I could die and be done with it.”

  “He’s had an offer, hasn’t he?”

  “Worse.”

  “Worse?” Felicity turned to look through the picture window. The land was not yet shedding its straw look, and the buds that would soon give the trees a pink hue were still only dark spots. The earth was waking up, but gradually. “What could be worse?”

  “The buyer is someone who wants to start an experimental farm to test things, like chemicals or hybrids or whatever.” Loretta stared at the whisky in her left hand and the beer in her right, as though not sure which one to go for first.

  “Oh. He never said a word to me.” Felicity didn’t want to add that she and Jeremy had always agreed that neither one would sell without first talking it over with the other. For their entire long relationship, she’d trained herself not to feel possessive—he was free and she was free. But now faced with the prospect of Jeremy taking this step without discussing it with her, she felt her heart speed up. She felt like she was suffocating. And she knew what Loretta would say if she admitted how bad she felt about this. Felicity pushed aside her beer and reached for the whisky. She found a small glass in the built-in china cupboard and poured herself a shot. “What about Daniel?”

  “Jeremy bought out his brother’s interest years ago,” Loretta said. “You know that.”

  “I was hoping maybe Daniel could stop him in some way.”

  “I wish.”

  “Jeez, experimental.” Felicity took a sip of the whisky, pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose at the burn in her mouth and throat, and then took another sip. “But I like Marilyn.”

  “So do I.” Loretta lit another cigarette and swore at the candy dish.

  “I feel sick.” Felicity finished her whisky. “Oh! That’s it! I feel sick.”

  “You said. Have another.” Loretta pushed the whisky bottle closer.

  “No, no, you don’t understand.” Felicity reached across the polished dining room table and slapped Loretta’s wrist.

  “Girl, I always liked you, but you are one bundle of strangeness.”

  “Listen to me, Loretta. This is important. Feeling sick—it reminds me of what I smelled when we were looking for Dad.”

  And then someone knocked on the door.

  Marilyn Kvorak pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down. “Mind if I take off my shoes?” She pulled off one high-heel shoe and then the other without waiting for an answer. “I love my job but my feet hurt sometimes.”

  “Wear sneakers.” Loretta coughed out a cloud of smoke.

  “I suppose in your job you have to always look like you’re going to an office,” Felicity said.

  “Where’s my son?” Loretta asked.

  “He said he had to see to his cows. I know they don’t give milk anymore so I figured he just wanted to get rid of me.” Marilyn rubbed her toes and glanced at the bottles on the table. “Got any more?” Felicity directed her to the fridge in the kitchen, and Marilyn walked out to the other room barefoot. “Having a party this weekend?” she asked when she returned with a beer bottle and an opener.

  “This is it.” Loretta glared at her.

  “You know, Loretta, my dad says he remembers you from high school,” Marilyn began after taking a sip of her beer. “He said you were the sweetest girl in your class.”

  “He’s lying.”

  Marilyn sighed and took another sip. “Yeah, I figured. He likes to always say something nice.”

  “Annoying, isn’t it?” Loretta leaned back in her chair, looking morose and not a little drunk. “He’s not coming over here, is he?”

  “Who? My dad? Oh, you mean Jeremy. I don’t think so. He was polite but he’s not interested.”

  “He’s not selling?” Felicity swung around in her chair. “I knew he wouldn’t.”

  “That’s not what you said a few minutes ago.” Loretta reached for her beer.

  Marilyn looked from one woman to the other. “It’s too bad. It’s an offer you wouldn’t believe. I told the buyer that Jeremy wouldn’t be interested but he kept upping the offer and I had to tell Jeremy, but he said no, for sure. No interest whatsoever.”

  “Damn!” Loretta grinned as she banged the beer bottle down onto the table. “This calls for another beer.”

  “Loretta, you’re drunk.” Felicity pulled the whisky bottle away from her.

  “So?”

  “You’re next on the list,” Marilyn said to Felicity. “I saw your pickup out front so I thought I’d warn you. This man is very determined. He wants a piece of land with forest and he’s looked all over the state, he says, and this area is perfect. Perfect.”

  “You’re seeing dollar signs, aren’t you, Marilyn?” Loretta leaned forward, resting woozily on her arms.

  “Come on, Loretta. There’s nothing wrong with selling property for a good price.”

  “I’m not selling either, Marilyn.” Felicity leaned back, relieved now that she knew Jeremy wasn’t selling.

  “You haven’t heard the price yet.” Marilyn lifted the beer and sipped. She lowered the bottle and named a figure. Felicity paled and Loretta swore.

  “You can’t be serious,” Felicity said.

  “I checked him out. He has the money.” Marilyn shrugged. “You should really think about this. This is the kind of offer that comes only once in a lifetime and I can make it happen.”

  “Are you getting carried away here?”

  “This is real money, Felicity,” Marilyn said. “More than you’d see if you piled up every bill you earned for the rest of your life.”

  “Who is he? Some mad scientist who wants to experiment on our farmland?” Felicity screwed up her face in disgust.

  “Where did you get that idea?” Marilyn glanced at Loretta.

  “What?” Loretta slurred the word but the women heard her.

  “Really, Loretta.” Marilyn glared at her. “Not everyone who wants to buy land around here is the devil.”

  “How do you know?” Loretta glared back at her.

  “He’s a gentleman with money, and he wants a nice quiet place, away from the hubbub of tourism and unbridled growth.” Marilyn’s nostrils flared in suppressed anger.

  “How about Saskatchewan?” Loretta’s eyes began to droop.

  “So who is this man?” Felicity asked.

  “I’m not supposed to say. He’s afraid he’ll be deluged with strangers offering him their land when he knows exactly what he wants. He wants to make the choice of what to look at, so he doesn’t want his name given out.” Marilyn frowned. “But, since he’s decided to make an offer to you, you do have a right to know. His name is Franklin M. Gentile.” She pronounced it Gentilli.

  “He’s with the mob. I knew it.” Loretta sat up, looking shocked.

  “Loretta, don’t be like that.” Felicity scowled at her. “What does the M stand for?”

  “Marshall,” Marilyn said. “Loretta, it’s spelled g-e-n-t-i-l-e.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?”

  Marilyn shut her eyes and took a deep breath. “Why is everything so hard with you?”

  “I don’t get it, Marilyn,” Felicity said. “With that kind of money he could go anywhere. Why here?”

  M
arilyn began tapping out the reasons. “A quiet area, no big tourism push that draws lots of traffic—he dislikes traffic—nice rural area, genuine, nice people. No celebrities. It sounds ideal.”

  “Okay, that’s the official reason. What’s the real reason?” Felicity said.

  “You got me.” Marilyn shrugged. “But he’s got the money and here is where he wants to be. He says it’s perfect.”

  “For a mad scientist.” Loretta articulated every syllable.

  “Loretta, this is where he wants to be.”

  The three women considered this, each casting it in a different light.

  “Well, you can tell him I’m not interested,” Felicity said.

  “Hey, not so fast.” Loretta tried to sit up straight. Felicity knew exactly what was coming: a suggestion that took various forms but always had the same goal. “Listen to this. You sell your property and then you and Jeremy can work his farm. It’s an idea,” she added quickly when she saw the expression on Felicity’s face.

  “That’s not a bad idea, Felicity. I mean, you and Jeremy … ” Marilyn rested her feet on the chair crosspiece. She still wore pantyhose and used clear nail polish to stop runs. She had done so that morning, Felicity guessed, from the clear shiny spot stuck to her leg just above her knee.

  “Not you too, Marilyn!”

  “Okay, okay. Just hear what Mr. Gentile has to say. Take a walk through your property with him and hear him out.”

  “Why? Think about this. He wants to buy bad farmland?” Felicity had progressed from frowning to scowling. “Don’t you wonder about that?”

  “He’ll explain what he’s interested in, so you’ll see there’s nothing to worry about,” Marilyn said. “I’ve talked to him a number of times and he’s just a regular guy who has enough money to do what he wants, and he wants to live a quiet life.”

  Loretta piped up. “A regular guy with enough money to do what he wants? They don’t exist.”

  “Loretta, you’re much too cynical,” Marilyn told her.

  Whatever Loretta was about to say was lost when Felicity raised her hand. “Doesn’t it seem strange that he’s offering so much money for what is, realistically, very poor farmland? I mean, there are lots of quiet areas in New England. Some of them very picturesque.”