Blue Ridge Hideaway

by Cynthia Thomason

  “Neither is dissecting my psyche,” he said and strode from the kitchen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  MAISIE FINALLY RETURNED to the lodge a little after ten that night.

  Bret looked up from filling his soda glass when she came in the back door. “Where have you been all evening?” he asked her. “I was beginning to...”

  She smiled and sat at the kitchen table. “Sit, okay?”

  He did.

  “Were you worried about me?”

  He shrugged. “These are the mountains, Maisie. And you’re hardly more than a quick snack for some of the creatures who live here.”

  “Well, I’m fine as you can see. I’ve spent the past two hours talking to your father. He’s coming back to Nettles Canyon with me to help run my herb and aromatherapy business.”

  This was the biggest surprise of the day. Bret took a long swallow of soda while he contemplated what to say, how to tell his mother that Clancy would never go back with her. “Are we talking about the same Clancy Donovan whose dependability quotient is hovering around zero?”

  Maisie laughed. The sound reminded him of the tinkling bells on her skirt. “I convinced him, darling. I swear I did. He’s going to quit gambling, involve himself in the shipping of my products and continue to pay you back.”

  Bret frowned. “Now I know I’m in an alternate universe.” He regarded his mother’s confident expression. “How did you manage it?”

  “I reminded him of our good old married days, when he was irresponsible, unreliable, funny and kind, and never, ever boring.”

  Bret conceded her accurate portrayal with a nod. “I guess that’s true.”

  “Of course it is,” she said. “No marriage ends without some of the blame on both parties. We know your father’s faults, but I had some, too. I was a nag and a dreamer. I stood in front of a justice of the peace and swore my fidelity to a man who by his very nature would never meet my ideal.” She sighed. “I should have known I wouldn’t change him until he was ready to be changed.”

  “And he is now?”

  “I think so. Believe it or not, he really feels bad about what he did to you and that woman. It was low, even for him.”

  Bret couldn’t argue that.

  “Now I’m willing to take a gamble,” she said. “On Clancy. My business is successful. My goodness, people in the urban areas love that natural aromatherapy stuff. I can’t keep up with the orders. I can really use his help.”

  Bret studied his mother’s still-youthful face and found much to admire in the fine lines of experience around her eyes. “I’m happy for you, Maisie,” he said. “Seems like you have the life you always wanted.”

  “With the man I never stopped loving. Now if I can just get you to love me as much as you did when you were a little boy....”

  She placed her hand over his and the years melted away. He felt like a boy again, one whose skinned knee had just been kissed and made all better. He cleared his throat. “Stranger things have happened, I guess.”

  “Oh, you bet, darling. The universe is full of strange, wonderful, blessed things. Miracles big and small.”

  She stood. “Now I’m going to meet your father on the porch. I think it’s past time that we sealed our deal with a kiss.”

  * * *

  STILL NOT COMPLETELY convinced, Bret waited a few minutes and then ambled out to the main room. When he heard soft laughter coming from the porch he peered out the front window and saw his mother and father sitting next to each other on the swing. Clancy had his arm around Maisie’s shoulder.

  “So you sure about this, Tinker Bell?” Clancy said. “If I come back with you, I might overstay my welcome. I’ve heard I can do that.”

  “I’m sure. But Clancy, I meant what I said. If you so much as bet with a butterfly on the direction of the wind, we’ll have a problem.”

  Clancy was silent. Bret held his breath. He wanted his father to take this offer. Not just because of his own history with Clancy, but because he figured it was time.

  “Okay, you talked me into it,” Clancy said. He put his other arm around her, leaned in and kissed her cheek.

  Feeling like a voyeur, Bret looked down, giving them privacy. “What is it about that porch swing?” he said to himself. At one time, not so long ago, even a hard-nosed, wounded cop like himself had believed in its magic.

  * * *

  “TOMORROW IS SATURDAY,” Maisie said to her son later that same night.

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Julie and the boys aren’t leaving until the morning. I’m going to be here with Clancy for a few days, at least until Monday. Your camp opens next weekend.”

  It was late. Bret was tired. He’d just come into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He figured his mother and father would have already retired to their respective beds. Julie, Luke and his nephews were in cabin number two. The outpost was getting a good workout tonight and he wanted a good night’s sleep.

  He stared at this mother. “Maisie, did you come in here to give me calendar details or do you have something you want to say?”

  “Julie told me about that woman.”

  “What woman?” Of course, he knew.

  “Don’t play dumb. We both know you’re not. Julie really likes her.”

  “Yes, I know. She’s told me so several times.”

  “And you like her, too.”

  Bret drank his water without commenting.

  “All I’m saying is that there are plenty of people here to watch Luke if you decide to get up in the morning and take a little drive.”

  He set his glass on the counter. “Where would I go?”

  “I was thinking the beach.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t know who was at fault in that girl running off like she did,” Maisie said. “I suspect it was partly your high-handed ethics that had something to do with it. You always were the critical one, Bret.”

  I grew up the son of a hippie canyon-dweller and a gambling conman. What in the world did I have to be critical about? Bret didn’t speak his thoughts. He just stared out the kitchen window.

  “It doesn’t matter who was at fault, anyway,” Maisie said. “I just think it’s time you started living again. And if this young lady can help you do that, then I say go for it.”

  “I am living, Maisie,” he argued. “I’m living my dream. This place. These mountains. My son...”

  “None of those things keep you warm at night, baby.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk,” he said. “All these years who’s been keeping you warm at night?”

  Maisie actually blushed! Had he hit a nerve?

  “We’re not talking about me, young man.”

  He smiled.

  She filled a glass of her own with water and headed to the door. “Now then, I’m going to bed. If you’re gone in the morning, I’ll know where you went. If you aren’t gone, I’ll find you wandering aimlessly under a dark cloud for another day. And I’ll be disappointed.”

  Bret refilled his glass and climbed the stairs to his room. He probably wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep, after all. Funny, all these years had gone by, and now, out of the blue, his mother had finally given her only son something really important to think about.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  BY TWO O’CLOCK Saturday Dorie had decided it was time for her to accept Jack’s role in the robbery. She loved him and couldn’t abandon him now, so she would do her best to ensure he was treated fairly. That meant she had to find a job that paid well enough to support herself and maintain payments to Eric Henderson. She would have time to sort her feelings about all this, and Bret, later.

  Wearing her usual beachside attire of shorts and T-shirt, she sat at the 1960s Formica-top kitchen table
her mother had purchased from a secondhand shop. She sipped an iced tea while perusing the help-wanted ads on Craigslist. She was writing down a phone number for a waitress position in Nag’s Head when a knock sounded on her door. King ran barking to the front room. Looking out the window she saw a fancy sports car, one she didn’t recognize. She opened the door to Eric, who was dressed in what she assumed must be his typical attire of oxford shirt and creased chinos.

  “Hi,” she said. “What brings you here?”

  “I just came from Broad Creek. Jack said he thought you’d be home so I decided to pop over.”

  “Okay.” She held on to King and opened the door so Eric could come into her living room.

  He looked around at her well-used, but meticulously maintained furnishings, which could be called vintage by today’s decorators.

  “Quaint,” Eric said. Then he looked at King, who was eyeing him suspiciously and growling low in his throat. “You have a dog?”

  “I do.”

  “Funny-looking little thing.”

  Dorie frowned. “Obviously you’re not seeing his distinguished side.” She motioned to a chair next to her fireplace. “You said you’d been to Broad Creek?”

  “Oh, right. Had a talk with Jack.” He sat, crossed his legs. “That was quite a bombshell he dropped on me this morning.”

  “Yeah, I imagine it was. I was going to call you later when I had a minute.” She’d had plenty of minutes, truthfully, but was still dealing with the news herself.

  “Jack’s real involvement in this crime is something I need to know, Dorinda, as his lawyer.” His voice was scolding, though calm.

  “Yes, I’m sorry. I suppose that changes everything for Jack.”

  “Sure does. But we’re not giving up. I’ve still got some angles we can play. The pathetic, confused kid protecting his friend, the overzealous clerk. We might still be able to get a plea deal.”

  “I hope so,” Dorie said.

  “I didn’t ask for a continuance, so we still have the same trial date, and both sides will have this new confession to work with. But I’ll keep digging.”

  “I appreciate that, Eric. I’m not counting on Jack being released anytime soon, but at least we can try to make his imprisonment as easy and short as possible.”

  He stood. “Well, then, I guess that’s it. Except I have the rest of the afternoon free. How would you like to head up the coast for some R and R? I think we both could use a break from this case.”

  She wasn’t even tempted. This wasn’t the right man or the right time. “I’m sorry, Eric, but I’m in the middle of something. I have some job interviews later today.”

  He gave her a half grin. “I’m a hard man to discourage, Dorinda, so I’ll keep trying. I think you and I can be on the same team in more than one respect.”

  “Well, anyway, thanks for the invitation.”

  He left and she returned to her computer in the kitchen. She hadn’t lied to Eric. She needed to find a job and quickly. It wouldn’t be long before she received another bill in the mail from the law firm. The five thousand Bret had sent was certain to run out soon.

  She had completed a list of a half-dozen job possibilities when she heard another knock on her door. She looked down at King. “The guy is persistent, I’ll say that.”

  King’s ears perked and he galloped to the front door. This time his tail was wagging, and he yipped playfully. “Boy, you establish allegiances quickly,” Dorie said to him. “A few minutes ago, you wanted to bite the cuff of Eric’s fancy trousers.”

  She opened the door, but it wasn’t Eric on her threshold. In jeans and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, Bret Donovan looked as if he’d just come down the mountain. And his mussed hair and tired eyes suggested he’d driven straight to Winston Beach. Her heart worked overtime to keep up with the blood that had suddenly rushed to her head. She gripped the door handle to steady herself. He looked so wonderful.

  “Oh.” The word came out as a breathless whisper. She didn’t trust herself to speak again, but King covered any awkwardness when he charged out the door and jumped on Bret with unabashed glee.

  “Hello, mutt,” Bret said. He patted the dog’s head absently while his gaze remained fixed on Dorie’s face. “I guess he’s forgiven me for threatening him with a dish towel.”

  “He has a short memory.”

  Bret smiled. “So, hi. How have you been?”

  She blinked rapidly while trying to keep his face in focus. “How have I been?”

  “I’m just asking because the past week I haven’t been so great, and I’m wondering if the same is true for you.”

  “This hasn’t been such a good week for me, either.” She resisted every impulse to fall into his arms. She needed facts, details. Lately she’d leaped to the wrong conclusions far too many times. “How did you get here?” she asked.

  He jabbed his thumb in the direction of his truck in her driveway. “I drove.”

  “No, I mean how did you get here, to 1321 Winston Beach Boulevard?”

  He looked down at his boots as if they had magically transported him across the state. “I can see how you might be wondering that. We didn’t exactly exchange addresses, although you know mine.” When he raised his eyes again, they were clear. The smile continued to play around his lips. “I stopped at Broad Creek and saw your brother. He told me where you live.”

  “You saw Jack?” She didn’t know how to react to that. Did Jack tell him the truth? Had he come here to gloat? Please, God, not that.

  “I did.”

  “Did he tell you the latest about his case?” she asked cautiously.

  “That he did fire the pistol? Yeah, he told me.”

  “You should feel vindicated,” she said. “You were right. I guess I was naive all along.” She held her breath.

  “I don’t feel anything but regret, Dorie. There’s no joy in discovering that someone you care about has to accept a difficult truth.”

  Someone you care about. Her chest squeezed with a comforting sort of pressure. “Thanks for that.”

  He peeked over her shoulder. “Can I come in?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” She held the door open and he walked in.

  His gaze took in the cozy room. “Nice place,” he said. “Kind of how I pictured a room you would live in.”

  His simple statement made her feel better than if he’d praised the room with false flattery. She liked that he saw the reflection of her personality in the home she loved.

  “Would you like to sit down?” she said.

  He chose a floral chintz wicker chair that she’d found at a flea market and had patiently restored.

  She sat on the sofa, the coffee table separating them.

  “So how did Jack appear to you?” she asked after a moment.

  “Actually I think he seemed relieved. Telling the truth can do wonders for anyone’s anxiety level. There’s guilt for committing a crime, and then there’s guilt in hiding it. I think the second kind can be the worst.”

  She smiled. “His confession didn’t do much for my anxiety level.”

  “I understand, but Dorie, I learned something interesting from a friend on the force. He called before I left home this morning.”

  “You did? What?”

  “The clerk who was killed has a rap sheet of his own. He’s been arrested a couple of times for violent behavior. Seems he liked batting heads a little too much.”

  Dorie understood where this bit of information might lead. “That is interesting,” she agreed.

  “You might want to share this with your lawyer. I’m sure he can use it in Jack’s favor. Coming at a kid with a bat is excessive even considering the circumstances. Jack claims the guy never saw the gun in Vince’s belt and therefore had no reason to fear for his life.”


  “So maybe the jury will conclude that Jack was protecting his friend.”

  “Yeah, it could help a lot, though Jack was still in the store for an illegal purpose. This won’t get him off completely, but his lawyer can argue for manslaughter.”

  Dorie sighed with pleasure. A day that had started out so badly now held an unmistakable ray of hope. Still she didn’t know how she might fit into Bret’s life. She leaned forward. “How is Luke?”

  “He’s okay. Misses you, though.”

  “I miss him, too. And Clancy?”

  Bret chuckled. “Now that’s a story.

  “When isn’t Clancy a story?”

  “True. But this time is different. Do you remember me telling you about Maisie, my mother?”

  “Of course. She was coming to visit you. I was there when she called.”

  “She arrived yesterday, and it seems she has a solution to Clancy’s itinerant living conditions.”

  He explained Maisie’s plan to take Clancy back with her to California, including Bret’s observing them on the porch swing. “I never thought I’d see those two getting along so well,” he said. “It was almost surreal.”

  “I think it’s very romantic,” Dorie said.

  “I suppose you could say that. And, let me guess. You like romantic stories.”

  She did, but she’d never lived one of them herself. Having Bret in her home was about as close to a feeling of true romance as she could remember. She was almost ready to cross that line which would allow her to believe in possibilities again.

  “I guess I still believe romance is possible,” she said. “Although I must admit I didn’t think it would be Clancy who convinced me of it.”

  He gave her a smile that seemed to hold a promise. She clenched her hands, her muscles suddenly tense.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to throw my hat in this ring.”

  Her breath caught. She swallowed and reminded herself that only one week ago she had left Bret without even saying goodbye. And he’d let her go. “You? Are you a believer in romance, too?”