“I just want to make sure it’s not more than that.”
“But you said two men? How do you know that? Did I say something at the hospital? How...?” Before she could finish the question weakness surged where she hoped she would find strength. Dizziness ripped through her.
Michael saw the weakness buckle Jessica’s knees. Instinctively, he grabbed her by her shoulders and guided her to a chair.
“Just go away. I don’t need your help, Michael. And I especially don’t need the help of a cop. It was just a stupid break-in. I must have panicked and fallen out of the window while trying to escape. He’s dead, so it’s over.” Jessica tried hard to put conviction behind her words and knew she was failing miserably. “I just want to be left alone and to be done with all of this. Nothing is making any sense.” A sob caught in her throat. Instincts told her she needed to run. But, this time, she just did not want to.
She felt his cool gray eyes study her.
“I’m as concerned about this as you are, Tess. Probably more so.” He was not expecting desperation to be mixed with the fear.
They parted, each sensing that the other was not telling all they knew.
Hoyt was directing a small team of carpenters to work on the porch and surrounding clapboards. He caught sight of Jessica clad in leather chaps and thick barn coat and bounded over to meet with her.
“Hey there! You sure are looking better all the time.” He stepped back and assessed her. “You’re not plannin’ on riding anytime soon, are ya? I heard the doctor said you couldn’t mount up for at least a week or so more.”
Jessica smiled at Hoyt’s paternal concern. “No, Hoyt. Don’t worry. It’s only been a few weeks, and I’m more comfortable dressed like this.” She surveyed the work going on. “Hoyt, you are really doing too much. All of this repair work can wait. Please,” she hesitated and then spoke in a lowered voice, “I just don’t know how to pay for all of this right now.”
Hoyt put down his hammer and wiped his hand on his overalls. He took her gently by the arm and led her out of earshot of the other workers. “Now. You listen to me, young lady. I’m the one repayin’ you a debt. Got it? My store is busier than ever with people coming in to shoot the breeze with the owner of that horse that jumped the chasm an’ put ol’ Chad Bleauvelt in the debt of a hardware store owner. I am havin’ the time of my life, an’ I won’t be hearin’ anythin’ about you owin’ me, got it?”
Jessica brought her arms up around Hoyt’s skinny neck and hugged him. Her ribs were well on the way to mended, but the motion still caused a dull ache. “Hoyt, you are so good to me. Thanks.” She kissed him on the cheek.
Embarrassed, Hoyt pulled away and looked around. Safe, he smiled at Jessica. “Tess, it is ClaireAnne’s and my whole pleasure.”
“I’m glad the farm and the horses are progressing. I’ve spent a lot of time making sure the owners know I’m keeping to my training programs in spite of my injuries. People around here don’t give second chances, and I don’t want to blow it. With winter just around the corner, it’s a load off my mind knowing that the farm is in good repair and that the horses are in good care.”
“So y’all like it here, eh?”
Jessica looked around her farm. Hoyt’s questions caused a brief pang. “I like it here more than I should or ever thought I would.”
“You make it sound like that’s not a good thing.”
Jessica straightened her shoulders. “I have a chance for a home in these mountains and it’s going to take more than a fall off a roof to make me move again. Besides, I’m broke. I don’t have the cash to run, I mean move again.” Jessica rubbed her mouth on her sleeve as if to wipe away her slip of the tongue. “Just walking around still hurts,” she said, refocusing the conversation. “Electra’s army made another pot of coffee and delivered some food. Join me?”
Hoyt looked at the workers. “Nah. I’m gonna finish up here and git back to the store. ‘Nother time?”
“Sure.”
Jessica turned and walked across the gravel drive to her house with her head down. Emotions and logic conflicted. It would be hard to begin on nothing again. She had played a lot of roles running across the country, but the one of Tess White was the closest to who she was. She loved her farm and her horses, and she had to face the fact that she needed time to recuperate. Not hearing anything more from Michael, her growing panic subsided, and she assessed her position as objectively as she could.
The concussion did not make it easy to think through the past events clearly. Her memories were like puzzle pieces. All of the pieces were face-up but without them locked into place the whole picture was impossible to see. She would have moments of panic and not understand why. It was maddening to the point that she questioned her own sanity. What did Dr. McCarthy say? That an injury or event could cause memory lapses? Jessica knew her panic and fears all too well. She knew the emotions that drove her actions, but she did not know the facts. The memories were just too tightly locked away. It was not just the night surrounding the fall that was fuzzy. Something from a much younger time began to nip at her.
The cruelty of not knowing the whole picture meant that sometimes the puzzle pieces would get locked together in ways that distorted the image. From her earliest memories, an overriding sense of guilt gnawed at her. She was alone because she deserved to be, somehow feeling she had done something wrong and her just punishment was that everyone was taken away. Being in Perc was both a salve and a thorn. Jessica was happier than she had been in years, but her panic attacks came more frequently.
What she had told Hoyt about being broke was only partially true. Jessica reviewed her years out west and what would cause her to flee. Sometimes it was a drunk trying to hit on her or a gaze from a stranger that lasted a minute too long that would send her running. Now she realized she was just jumpy. The only threats to her were ones she imagined. She assessed and planned for a new life as carefully as she could and the envelope from Bridget contained the foundation she needed. Her quirky and oddly paranoid aunt squirreled away enough money to make buying the farm a reality. But why the warning to move the funds as soon as the accounts were accessed? The accounts had to be accessed within seven years to avoid being unclaimed or abandoned and seized by the state. That timing is what prodded her into action to leave Utah. Could it be that accessing the accounts somehow prodded Rowdy Howe to be at Electra’s party to check on Perc’s newcomer? It had only been eight months since she arrived in Perc, but the threats Jessica sensed were much greater now than ever. She cursed herself for not understanding why and vaguely suspected accessing Bridget’s accounts had something to do with it.
Jessica filled another mug with coffee, padded over to her favorite chair and clicked on the reading light. It had been years since she allowed herself the luxury of savoring the huge Sunday edition of any newspaper and the thick stack beside her chair appealed to her idea of relaxation for the day. She settled down with the most current issues of the Louisville Gazette, New York Times, and the Boston Sunday Globe. Leisurely she scanned the Gazette to familiarize herself with notable people and places. She recognized the names of some of the people she had met at the hunter pace and made a mental note to ask Electra more about them. The New York Times was running a series of articles on different political factions in the United Kingdom and the alleged ties of some groups to organized crime. Jessica perused the articles to keep current with world events, but the nature of the stories was not relevant enough to her to keep her interest. She really looked forward to curling up with the Boston Sunday Globe.
She smiled as she picked up the Metro section of the Globe and read the familiar names of towns she knew as a child. Malden, Methuen, Ipswich, Swampscott, Marblehead were all names in various stories concerning one local event or another. It was all so far removed from her as she read the names with only a mild interest. She let her mind wander and continued scanning the paper. An ar
ticle on a young attorney general caught her eye.
The article was written by an obvious fan of the young attorney. Attorney General Owen Shea was deeply involved with his community and had kept up the volunteer efforts to help underprivileged youth begun by his wife before her untimely death in a horrible automobile accident several years ago. The article stated that, in spite of the tragic loss of his wife and young child, the young man continued to give back to the community that had helped him through his trying times.
The reporter focused on the young man’s life outside of his demanding career. Owen Shea had carved out a niche for himself fighting organized crime in Boston. His reputation was of one part pit bull and one part vigilante. He was doggedly pursuing one group for its alleged dealings with terrorist organizations including the IRA and its criminal activities in support of those groups. It was widely believed that the death of his wife and child were in retaliation for a series of victories he had. Instead of becoming embittered, he channeled his energies into pursuing an energetic life focused on career and community. The whole gist of the article sounded like a plea for him to take a chance and make a run for Governor of Massachusetts.
Jessica put the paper down briefly as a thought crossed her mind. There was something about the name Owen Shea that sparked bits of memories. She grabbed a discarded Times and located the articles on political factions. Eventually, she found a section that mentioned the young attorney general’s efforts against certain groups and his possible run for office. She resolved that she must have seen his name in the Times and that was why he seemed familiar.
Gathering the scattered newspapers to put in the trash, a picture in the obituary section of the Louisville Gazette caught her attention. The unsettling gaze of two black eyes from a round face stared up from the page. The caption read ‘Rowdy Howe—Outdoors man.’ Jessica snatched the paper up from the pile and read the brief synopsis of the dead man’s life. It stated that he had died in the pursuit of one of his many loves, hiking, and that he was going to be truly missed by everyone, especially those in the racing community. He was known as the ‘Insider’s Insider,’ meaning that he knew the bloodlines and potential of not only the thoroughbreds racing at Churchill Downs, but their owners and trainers too. The final words on the man made an attempt to be charitable, but the impression was that few would truly mourn him.
The paper shook violently in Jessica’s hands in response to her own uncontrolled trembling. She could feel her heart pound and sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades. A headache threatened to consume her. She forced herself to look through the papers again. She made herself stare at Rowdy’s picture. She looked into the unseeing black eyes of the photograph and heard the slow drawl of his words as he pronounced her name “Why-iet. Wyeth.” Jessica sat stone still while the effect of the flood of memories paralyzed her. She had no idea how long she sat there.
“Hey, Tess! Are you all right?”
Jessica forced herself out of her internal hell and looked in the direction of the voice. The sun was beginning to set, and her house was nearly dark inside. Only the light beside her chair was on.
She looked up and saw Michael silhouetted in the doorway of her kitchen. “Oh. Hi. Help yourself to coffee.” Her voice was flat despite the inflections she tried to force into it.
“Nope. None left. Are you okay?” Michael strode easily across the room and sat on the old sofa next to her. A streak of concern creased his brow.
Jessica took in a deep breath and tried to resist the energy that Michael exuded. His dynamism always caught her by surprise and drew her to him, but she would not let the effect he had on her impact her thinking. She had to be sharp. Looking at his casual attire of jeans and a sweatshirt she said, “Day off?” Again, unwanted flatness bordering on contempt crept into her voice.
“Just finished. The Human Hurricane booked me on the late shift of helpers for today. I just stopped in to see if you wanted anything special done with the horses for tonight’s bedding down.”
Jessica smirked. “I’ll just bet that you’re the only one scheduled to help out this evening. And I’ll bet that the dinner ‘someone’ dropped off tonight includes a bottle of wine.”
“Right on both points. You’ve been maneuvered into a quiet dinner with me, after I’ve performed the required chores.” He looked around at the scattered papers. “What are you doing?”
“I... I was just relaxing.”
“You look kind of pale. Hoyt said you’ve been getting some bad headaches.”
“I’m fine. Really. Let’s get going, okay?”
Displaced feelings of anxiety settled on Electra’s unending attempts at matchmaking. Jessica resolved to make tonight’s attempt the last. The required ‘reporting’ of dinner must convince Electra that matching the Harlan County Sheriff with ‘Tess White’ would be a failure. Jessica tried to straighten out her thoughts as best as she could. Rowdy Howe’s death was connected to her somehow, and she did not want to learn why. The evening must have two desired outcomes. The first would stop Electra’s maddening efforts at playing cupid, and the second would be that tonight’s dinner conversation would convince Michael that she fell off the roof to drive him off the scent of burglary. She resolved to be as relaxed and charming as she could.
Michael and Jessica walked out to the barn. The air had sharpened to a fine point which the wind drove further into them. Jessica spent a long time looking at Snugs. The mare was beginning to show the stresses of pregnancy and was nearing the time to have her foal.
“It won’t be long now, girl.” Jessica rubbed the big neck and gave the mare sugar lumps she always carried in her pocket. “Doesn’t your friend want to visit his horse? I haven’t even had a chance to update him on her condition.”
“He has too many other animals he’s dealing with right now. I guess the sire of this foal is of a lesser heritage than he cares for, so as long as he knows she’s in good hands, that’s the extent of his interest.” Michael completed the distribution of the evening’s feedings of grain and hay, wielding the pitchfork and wheelbarrow with ease.
“I thought you didn’t know your way around a barn. By the looks of it, someone might get the feeling you’ve done this before.” Jessica leaned up against a beam and crossed her arms.
“Living in this part of the country, you have to do all sorts of things to help out your neighbors. Tending horses is just part of the job.” Michael finished mucking out the stalls and threw extra wood shavings into Snugs’ stall. The mare responded to his presence with an affectionate nuzzle.
“I guess she knows a softy when she sees one. It seems like she knows you pretty well. I thought you only transported her for a friend? Usually that wouldn’t be enough of a contact for a horse to remember someone.”
“Yeah. I lucked out. Here, let me help you with that.” Michael walked forward and helped Jessica rake the loose hay from the corridor and slide the massive door of the barn shut behind them.
They were both relieved to get back to the warmth of Jessica’s kitchen. The casserole and fresh bread filled the air with a comforting aroma. Jessica reached into the cabinet and retrieved dishes and mismatched stemmed glasses for the wine, bracing for the sharp pain in her ribs that did not come. Good. She was getting better.
Michael made a fire in the living room’s brick hearth. He poured her a glass of wine and offered it to her.
“It’s nice to see you. From our last conversation, I wondered what would happen.”
Jessica felt the now familiar jolt as he looked at her. “Michael. Look. I’m sorry I behaved so poorly. It’s just that what you were saying didn’t make any sense to me. That fall from the roof knocked my memory right out of me.” She smiled at her own faint attempt to make a joke. “After everyone had said I was just a lunatic on a leaking roof in a storm, you come along and tell me about some burglar. And a dead one at that. Nothing made any sense. I’m jus
t glad it’s over and done with.” Jessica placed added emphasis on the last sentence to indicate her unwillingness to be interrogated further on the subject.
“You’re right, Tess. I was wrong to tell you what I did,” Michael said, looking directly at her.
Jessica accepted the easy victory. She took a mouthful of wine and swallowed it slowly. “I was surprised to learn that you were a cop.”
“Ha! Surprised? I guess you weren’t paying attention. I must have passed you a dozen times while I was on duty before we met and two dozen more afterward.” He paused and studied her face thoughtfully. “Why? Don’t you like the police?”
“I, ah, it’s just that, well no, I mean, of course I do.”
“Forget I said that. I guess that’s my stupid way of getting someone to open up. I just want to get to know you a little better, that’s all. All I know about you is that you’re fantastic with horses and have a soft spot for mentally handicapped kids. I’d like to know more about where you came from.”
She opted for selected information. “I moved to Perc from Saddle String, Utah. I worked on some ranches out there during the warm months and was a ski patrol and part-time instructor at local ski resorts, like Solitude and Snowbird. I heard about this great deal on a small farm and had to check it out myself. It was love at first sight. Lainely Smythe did her best not to sell it to me, but I guess the sellers were more eager for the sale than she was. Funny, huh? You would think a Realtor would jump on a chance to sell a long-forgotten piece of property.”
Michael nodded. “There were some rumors around town that she wanted this piece of property for herself. She was waiting for the price to drop even further.”
“I heard that too. I heard one person say that she wanted to develop this land and had to purchase it at a low enough price to save her money for the legal fight she would have had with the town to get the zoning approved.”
The Charity Page 21
