Eva's Deadline

by Linda Hope Lee

  When the president announced a short break, she tucked her tablet away and headed for the coffee urns. Two council members, a man and a woman, approached her.

  “Aren’t you Eva Sinclair?” the woman asked.

  Eva reached for a porcelain cup. “Yes, I’m taking Mark’s place tonight. He has a nasty virus.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” The man picked up a carton of creamer and poured some into his cup. “But we’re glad to have you in his place. Your father used to attend, too. He was a crackerjack journalist.”

  “We were lucky to have him at the Herald’s helm,” the woman said. “And we feel lucky to have his daughter following in his footsteps.” She gave Eva a wide smile.

  “But I’m not— I’m only—”

  Another man joined them. “Oh, Wayne, this is Seb’s daughter,” the woman said.

  Soon others had clustered around them, expressing appreciation for her being there. Eva listened to the praise heaped on her father, praise she’d heard at every turn since her arrival in Willow Beach. One would think he was a saint.

  A newcomer joined the group. Eva looked up to see Boyd Carlstrom. Her stomach jolted. She hadn’t noticed he was in the audience. When he said he was settling back in town, he wasn’t kidding.

  “Didja tell ’em you’re leaving soon?” Boyd bellowed in his deep voice.

  “Leaving?” the man named Wayne asked.

  Boyd nodded. “Sure. Soon as June rolls around, she’s gonna go back to Seattle.”

  All eyes turned to Eva.

  “I, uh—”

  Boyd held up both hands. “But don’t worry, folks, because I’ll be back at the Herald’s helm, and your weekly will survive.”

  “What about Mark Townson?” Wayne asked.

  Just then the council’s president banged his gavel. “Time to get back to business, people.”

  As the group scattered, Eva leaned toward Boyd and whispered, “Boyd, please. Let’s keep our business private.” She doubted he heard her, though, because he was busy talking to one of the council members.

  Eva managed to concentrate enough to take notes on the rest of the meeting, which featured the announcement of the new mayor. As soon as the session was over, she leaped up and headed for the door.

  Mark had told her how much the townspeople valued the Herald, but she hadn’t believed him. Tonight had shown her the truth of his words. Did Boyd really have the newspaper’s best interests at heart? Or, as Mark claimed, was her father’s former partner only interested in his own ego?

  *

  MARK STAYED HOME sick for another week, and Eva found herself in charge of the newspaper. Since everyone on staff knew their job well, being the boss made little change in her own routine. A few matters did require her expertise, such as choosing which of Cody’s photos would grace the pages of the upcoming issue and editing the copy of a new advertiser Bernie had signed on.

  On a couple of matters, April had insisted she needed to talk to Mark directly and called him at home. His voice was still little more than a croak, however, and April had ended up coming to Eva for direction. Not without a sulk, though.

  On Wednesday, Cody brought the fresh copies of the newspaper from the printer.

  “Here it is,” he announced as he lugged the first of several boxes through the back door. He carried the box into the workroom and set it on the table.

  Eva had been hovering near the door, watching for his red truck. She’d told herself she just wanted to make sure the edition arrived, but as soon as Cody left to retrieve another box, she ran to the one on the table and snatched up the top copy. The smell of fresh ink drifted off the newsprint, bringing a flood of memories. Memories of being a little girl and standing beside her brother and watching her father do the very thing she was doing now—taking that first copy from the stack of newly printed papers.

  She’d never forget the look on Seb’s face—a mixture of joy, pride and excitement. Look what we got here, kids, he’d say, waving the paper under their noses. Nothing beats the news.

  Eva took the latest issue of the Herald to her cubicle. She sat at her desk and read it, just like her father used to do. When she was finished, she leaned back and let a deep breath expand her chest. A slow smile curved her lips. She’d done a good job. She should be proud of herself.

  Then her gaze fell on the framed covers of Seattle’s Best hanging on the walls. Glossy, colorful covers and all featuring her byline.

  She looked at the Herald, and full of news or not, the newspaper seemed dull and drab in comparison. The excitement charging through her dissolved into despair.

  *

  “THANKS FOR RUNNING the show while I was out,” Mark told Eva when he returned to work the following Monday. They were having an informal meeting in the staff room.

  Eva shrugged. “You’re welcome…I guess.”

  “You guess? You should be proud of this issue.” He picked up a copy from the table. “Everything looks great.”

  His praise pleased her but made her uncomfortable, too. She cast him a sideways glance. “Even the front-page feature on the dog show?”

  He grinned. “Well…I probably would’ve moved that inside, but your lead article on the city-council meeting and the announcement of the new mayor is right on target.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  He put down the paper and studied her. “How’d you like attending the meeting?”

  She lowered her gaze. “It was okay.”

  “I heard Boyd Carlstrom was there.”

  Noticing the disapproval in Mark’s voice, Eva tensed. She met his gaze. “He was. He spoke to me during the break.”

  Mark shook his head. “And bragged to everyone about taking over the paper. He’s worming his way into our town every chance he can get. I wish he’d move on.”

  Eva picked up a pen lying next to a scrap of paper and idly doodled a few circles. She still didn’t know what to think about Boyd. He was pushy and rude and obnoxious, but she couldn’t forget how kind he’d been to her when she was a child. He couldn’t be all bad, could he?

  *

  AT THE HIGH-SCHOOL gymnasium, Mark dribbled the basketball down the court, then tossed the ball to Bernie. Tonight their team, the Bombers, was playing the Jets. He and Bernie had arrived early to warm up while they waited for the others. He flexed his arms as he waited for Bernie to take a shot.

  Bernie bounced the ball a few times, the sound echoing around the empty gym. He paused to take aim, then sent the ball flying. It balanced for a second on the basket’s rim before it slipped inside.

  “How do you do that?” Mark shook his head in wonder. “That’s your third in a row.”

  Bernie grinned. “Just talented, I guess. Maybe I shoulda played basketball for a living instead of selling ads.” He ran after the ball, caught it and tossed it to Mark.

  Mark leaped ahead and grabbed the ball in both hands. “You’d probably be a rich man by now.”

  “Yeah, right. Maria wouldn’t go for me being on the road so much, though. Gotta keep the wife happy. Let’s take five, okay?”

  Mark nodded and trotted after Bernie to the bleachers. They plopped down on the bottom bench. Bernie picked up a towel and wiped his forehead. “Glad you’re back. We missed you.”

  “That goes both ways. I’m not used to being laid up. Spending all that time alone and away from work was no fun. I really missed Sasha, too. But I sure appreciate Eileen keeping her until I got well. I didn’t want her sick.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Things seemed to perk along at the paper. You all get along with Eva okay?” He shot Bernie a sideways glance.

  Bernie shrugged and tossed down the towel. “I guess. Except April—she spent the entire time in a funk.”

  “Yeah, well, April’s in her own space.”

  “A space she wishes you were in, too. But I’m thinking your interests lie in another direction. Am I right?”

  Mark gave a start. “You mean Eva? Is it that obvious?”
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  Bernie nodded. “Judging by how you two rang in the New Year at the party, I’d say, yeah, it is.”

  Mark leaned back and propped his elbows on the bench behind them. “But you don’t like her, do you?”

  “I’m mellowing on that. Maria likes her. So does Bella.”

  “So do a lot of other people around town. She made a big hit at the city-council meeting. And we’ve received letters praising her article.”

  Bernie leaned over to retie a shoelace. “They can’t all be wrong.”

  “She’s still leaving in June. Why can’t I just give up on her?”

  “Only you can answer that, my man.”

  “I keep thinking there’s got to be more to her reluctance to be here than just an argument with Seb because he wanted her to stay and she wanted to work for Seattle’s Best. Something to do with her brother…”

  “The one who drowned in the boating accident.”

  “Yeah. Seb never talked much about it. And I never asked.”

  “So, the brother was first choice. When he died, Seb wanted Eva to take his place. She didn’t want to be second choice.”

  “But I think there’s even more. I just don’t know what.”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Whenever the subject comes up, or is even hinted at, she shuts up tighter than a clam. Nobody else ever talks about that time, either. I figured it was out of respect for Seb, since he was silent on the subject.”

  “There might be other ways to find out. Why don’t you do a Google search?”

  “Yeah, maybe I will.” He gave Bernie a playful punch on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I keep a smart guy like you around.”

  “Watch out, though,” Bernie cautioned. “You might wish you’d left it alone.”

  The double doors to the gym swung open, and the guys on the opposing team burst in. “Well, look who’s here,” one said. “A couple of Bombers. Practicing?”

  “Yeah, we want to make sure you guys lose big tonight,” Bernie said.

  “That’ll be the day” came the reply.

  Mark joined in the banter, glad to have a diversion from his dilemma over Eva. Still, as he played the game and helped his team to win, a part of his mind stayed anchored to her. He vowed to do all he could to find out what had happened on that fateful day eleven years ago at Pine Lake.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LATER THAT EVENING, after putting Sasha to bed, Mark sat in front of his computer, typing search words into Google. Several newspaper articles had been written about Brett Sinclair’s death. He clicked on the first one that came up. It was from the Seaview Sentinel. The headline read Boy Drowns at Pine Lake. The date was June 10, eleven years ago. Brett Sinclair, eighteen, had been with a group of Willow Beach High School students who were celebrating their upcoming graduation with a party at Pine Lake.

  Mark had been to the lake and liked to hike the trail that followed the shoreline. He’d never hiked completely around the lake, though, because it was quite large. On one side was a popular resort, with cabins, boating and fishing and a couple of restaurants. On the opposite shore were private homes. An island sat in the lake’s center. Uninhabited, it was a popular destination by boat for a picnic or a short walk.

  Mark read the article and then sat back, stunned. As he’d suspected, there was more to the story than he’d been told. What he hadn’t realized was how that missing piece involved Eva.

  *

  MARK STEWED FOR several weeks about his newfound knowledge and what to do about it. What he wanted most was to talk to Eva and tell her what he’d uncovered, but given her reluctance to discuss the incident—which he now understood far better than before—he feared upsetting her. He wanted to respect her wishes, but he also wanted to talk about it. He needed to make the connection between them—he wasn’t sure why. With four months still remaining before her year was up, he risked destroying even the shaky relationship they had managed to develop so far.

  He didn’t want to bring up the subject at the office, yet that was about the only place they saw each other. He had no excuse for inviting her to his house, and she never invited him to her apartment. The holidays had provided opportunities for getting together outside of work, but those were over. He considered inviting her to have dinner with him and Sasha on Valentine’s Day, but that holiday was for lovers, wasn’t it? And they were hardly that.

  Then, one Saturday when he was on his way to the high-school gym to run the indoor track, he passed by Seb’s old house and saw her blue car parked in the driveway. He knew she’d been cleaning out the house but hadn’t asked about her progress. It seemed to be a slow process.

  On impulse, he pulled into the driveway and parked behind her car. He hadn’t been here since the day Seb died, and now that day and its sad events rushed back to him. Worried because Seb hadn’t shown up for work by ten o’clock, he’d come to his house and discovered his lifeless body. That discovery had changed so much for Mark.

  He stepped up to the door and rang the bell, as he had that day. No one had answered, and he’d used the key Seb had given him. Today, the door inched open and Eva peeked out. She frowned. “Mark. What brings you here?”

  “I was passing by on my way to run at the high school and saw your car. You’re still cleaning the place, right?” He craned his neck to peer over her shoulder. A stack of cardboard boxes sat at the end of the hallway.

  She sighed. “Right. I need to get it on the market.”

  He nodded. “Do you want a hand with anything? I’ve got time.”

  She shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m just packing up some stuff for Goodwill.” She nodded over her shoulder toward the boxes.

  “You can’t cart those in your car.”

  “They’re sending over one of their trucks on Monday. I’ll have to take a few minutes from work to let them in.”

  “Why don’t you let me drop off the boxes today? Their store is just a little ways past the high school.”

  “Well…all right. Come in, then.”

  She opened the door wider and he stepped inside.

  The house smelled musty, but that was to be expected, having been closed up for, what, nine months? Most of the curtains were closed, too, which gave the place a dim, shadowy appearance.

  “I haven’t quite filled up all the boxes,” she said, leading him down the hallway.

  “I can wait. And give you a hand in the meantime.”

  She stopped at the end of the hallway. “Right now I’m doing the kitchen. I saved it for last. Not saved it, exactly, I just couldn’t…”

  “I know what you mean. But like I said, I’ll help.”

  “Well…okay. You can empty the drawers.”

  He bypassed the boxes and stepped into the kitchen. Cupboard doors and drawers hung open, and most of the shelves were empty, the dishes and glasses stacked on the counters. His gaze strayed to the round table in one corner, the table where Seb had been slumped over his plate of eggs and toast. Mark swallowed and looked away. If that one memory affected him so much, what must the memories of all the years Eva had spent in this house be doing to her?

  She was packing a box with dishes, wrapping each piece in butcher paper. “This must be tough on you,” he said gently.

  “It’s not easy, but someone has to do it, and there’s no one but me.”

  He thought of his own house. After Diane died, the only things he had removed were her clothes, which he, too, had donated to charity. But his situation was different, wasn’t it? He and Sasha still lived in the house and he wanted to keep Diane’s presence alive for their daughter.

  He pulled open a drawer. It was full of towels and dishcloths. He grabbed a handful. “Where do you want these?”

  She looked up. “Just put them on the counter. I’ll sort through them, although they’ll all probably be donated.”

  He resumed his task. As he was emptying the third drawer, he noticed a mug sitting on the counter with some other cups and glasses. It rea
d Brett in bold black letters. The one next to it had Eva in black script.

  He picked up the mugs, one in each hand. “Hey, these look familiar. Aren’t they from the county fair? I got one like them a couple years ago.” He looked at the other side, and sure enough, small print near the bottom said Clallam County Fair.

  She glanced up and then quickly away. “Yeah, the fair. The booth where they had mugs with every name you could think of.”

  “Right. There were hundreds. I didn’t think there’d be one with Sasha’s name, but there was.”

  “I don’t know why Seb hung on to these.” She set her mouth and grabbed another piece of butcher paper from the pile on the table.

  He put down the mugs. “Wish I’d had the chance to know your brother,” he said, realizing he was venturing into dangerous territory but determined to forge on.

  She said nothing.

  He cleared his throat. “Eva…I, uh, I know you were with Brett that day at Pine Lake.”

  He expected surprise, or shock, but her voice was deadly calm as she said, “Is that what this is about?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your stopping by today. You want me to talk about Brett, about the past.”

  “I do want to help you today, but I have to admit, since I’ve found out, the accident has been on my mind a lot.”

  “So who told you?” She slid a stack of plates along the counter so she could better reach them, then lifted one off the top.

  “No one. I did some research.”

  She nodded. “Of course. Nothing’s private now that we have the internet.”

  Mark took another handful of towels from a drawer. “Anyway, I know you were in the boat with Brett when it capsized.”

  “And that I was rescued. Obviously. So, end of story.”

  “No, that’s just it. That’s not the end of the story. There’s so much more.”

  She stopped with half the plate wrapped, her eyes challenging him. “And you expect me to tell you.”

  “Eva, I want to understand you better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I care about…the newspaper, and I want it to be the best it can be. And if I understand you better, then we can work together better. Does that make sense?” He’d almost slipped and said, Because I care about you. Close call.