Uncertain Past

by Roz Denny Fox

  “Jed? Jed Louis is your husband? He owns the old Granger house?”

  “Yes. You know him? I don’t believe I caught your name.” The voice sharpened, unless Emmy imagined it.

  “He probably had no reason to mention me. My name is Emmy Monday. A long time ago, we both lived there as foster kids.”

  “Emmy!” A happy cry followed. “Jed’s told me about you. Oh, he’ll be so pleased when he hears you’ve come home. I know he’ll want you to stay at Beaumarais with us.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t.” Emmy recalled what Cassie had said about Jed’s recent marriage. “I heard you’re newly married. Besides, Jed and I haven’t spoken in years. We’re virtual strangers.”

  “I guess I understand how you feel. But you two have so much catching up to do. Tell you what, I’ll meet you at the rental. Jed would never forgive me if I turned away the only family he has.” She lowered her voice. “I’m assuming you’ve heard what a mess he’s been thrown into?”

  “Bits and pieces. Enough to know that what they’re accusing him of is totally absurd. I’m not Jed’s only family, by the way. There’s Will. Will McClain. Is he around?”

  “No. But I’ll let Jed fill you in on everything that’s happened since you, Will and Frannie all disappeared. If you won’t stay with us, Emmy, promise you’ll at least come to dinner tonight. Eight-thirty. I’m ten minutes from the rental. If we meet now and you find the house suitable, that’ll give you time to unpack and rest a bit before dinner.”

  “Wait. I’d love to see Jed, but I’ll have to reserve judgment on renting the house.” Emmy felt bowled over, and yet her words reflected a smile.

  “Fair enough. A warning, though. I can be very persuasive.”

  As Emmy pulled into the driveway, she tried not to form any opinions about Jed’s wife. As it happened, Mrs. Louis beat Emmy to Frannie’s place. Technically Jed’s, but to Emmy the house would always belong to Mom Fran.

  She took her time climbing from the pickup and used the extra moments to inspect the woman her foster sibling had married. Before clicking off, Jed’s wife had said her name was Gwyneth; please call her Gwyn, she’d added.

  Emmy didn’t know why, but she hadn’t expected her to be so tall. Gwyn topped Emmy’s five foot five by at least four inches. A thick auburn braid slapped a slender waist as she turned the key in the lock. The main thing Emmy noticed was that although Gwyn wore faded blue jeans, dusty boots and a plaid, western-style shirt, she had the carriage and bearing of someone born to wealth. Casual elegance. The kind enjoyed by women who strolled through the Shreveport casino shrouded in an aura of money and power. The genuine article. Not someone out to impress.

  Emmy’s instant perception was that Jed was a lucky man.

  Gwyn’s “Hi” wafted across the lawn in a low contralto as she beckoned Emmy through an already open door. “We’re birds of a feather, I see.” Gwyn pointed to Emmy’s pickup, then to her own green Land Rover parked by the neighboring fence. “We truck women have to band together. I hope you’re a coffee drinker, too. I brought a thermos and two mugs.” She had them hooked on three fingers of her left hand. A hand flashing a gorgeous diamond wedding set.

  Somewhat tongue-tied, Emmy merely nodded. Jed’s wife was a bit of a whirlwind.

  Gwyn disappeared into the kitchen, saying she’d pour their coffee. The distinctive aroma reached out to Emmy. Exactly what she needed to fight off waves of nostalgia that struck the minute she stepped inside. Although the living room carpet was new, the furnishings different, the decor modernized, memories of her life here catapulted Emmy back to childhood. Standing there, she realized again that those years had, without doubt, been the best she’d ever known. Why had she waited so long to come home? Only it wasn’t her home—not really. Where did she belong?

  “Emmy?” Gwyn extended a steaming cup. “Are you all right? I’ll, uh, wait in the kitchen if you’d prefer to explore on your own.”

  Accepting the mug, Emmy swallowed several times and shook her head. “It’s very different from my recollections. Smaller, for one thing.” She rolled stiff shoulders.

  “I found it comfortable enough for me and my animals.” Gwyn laughed. “The cat and dog didn’t fight me for the only bathroom. However did four of you manage, though?”

  Relaxing minutely, Emmy sipped the strong, black coffee. “We had a schedule. Mom Fran and I showered at night, the boys in the morning. Jed always complained that Will hogged the bathroom and used all the hot water.”

  “Jed talks in fits and spurts about that time in his life. Finding your foster mom’s remains on his property was a horrendous shock.”

  “I can imagine. No, that’s not true. I can’t imagine it. How did that archaeologist come to be digging there?”

  “My fault, I’m afraid. I leased pastureland from Jed for the miniature horses I raise. When he first discovered they were miniature, he hit the roof. He doesn’t consider the breed a horse. You may not know, but Jed raises mammoth Percherons. Tessa Lang, the archaeologist, wanted to dig for Caddo Indian artifacts. Jed believed her excavation would spook his herd, so he refused her request. He and I argued a lot back then.” She grimaced slightly. “I thought Tessa’s project had merit. She had a grant and a deadline. Jed’s decision seemed unfair, so I suggested she petition the court for the right to search for artifacts. I felt absolutely awful when among the first things Tessa found were Frannie’s bones. I’m still sick over it, but there’s no reversing what’s happened.”

  “The article I read didn’t mention it was Jed’s land. Oh, Lord, poor Jed.”

  Gwyn paced the perimeter of the room. “Yes. Fielder’s convinced the reason Jed made such a fuss over Tessa’s dig was because he killed Mrs. Granger.”

  “That sheriff’s a fool. He can’t know Jed if he thinks that.”

  Worry lines creased Gwyn’s smooth brow. “The evidence keeps mounting. Do you remember Amanda Jennings?”

  “Hard to forget Uncertain’s Dolly Parton lookalike.”

  “Yes, well, there is that. According to Fielder’s old notes, Amanda reported that Jed skipped school the day Frannie disappeared.”

  “I’ll bet Amanda made that up. She used to tell lies about people to get them in trouble. Then she’d stand back and smirk.”

  “She didn’t make it up. I’m sure he’ll tell you himself, but Jed’s felt guilty for years over that. He and your foster mom argued the morning she vanished and he took off for the day. He’s found it really hard, knowing that the last time they parted was in anger.”

  “They argued?” Emmy frowned.

  “Yes. Some ongoing spat about Jed applying to Juilliard. I gathered Frannie thought music was a big waste of time.”

  “And money,” Emmy agreed slowly. “But no one was prouder of Jed’s awards.” Her frown deepened. “Gosh, I may have told the sheriff that Fran fussed at Jed that day. Until you brought it up, I’d forgotten Fielder came to school the next morning and questioned me. I was scared to death.” Emmy ran a finger around the rim of her cup. “Will and I were always slowpokes. Fran was late for work, I think. Jed had a permission slip he wanted signed. Yes, now I do remember. They were turning the air blue as they walked out the back door. I dashed out the front to catch my bus.” Emmy lifted her eyes to meet Gwyn’s. “Will would have covered for Jed if he missed roll call. Will sometimes ditched class. Highly unusual for Jed, though. What’s his story?”

  “He took his boat out on the lake and spent the day cooling off. Apparently no one saw him. Without witnesses, it makes him look bad. If you can remember anything else . . .” Gwyn pleaded.

  “I wish I could. It happened so long ago.”

  Gwyn turned to dump her coffee down the sink. She stared out the window, saying nothing, but her shoulders were bowed.

  “I’m glad Jed has you in his corner,” Emmy said softly. “I don’t know
much about the law, Gwyn. Does Jed have a good lawyer?”

  Nodding, Gwyn faced Emmy again. “Riley Gray handles Jed’s business needs. The second time Sheriff Fielder questioned Jed in conjunction with the murder, Riley recommended Jed hire someone more experienced in criminal law. I suggested an old family friend, Dexter Thorndyke. He’s well-known for winning difficult cases. Thorny agreed to advise Jed.”

  Emmy got hung up on the part about Riley doing legal work for Jed. Back when they all built forts and pretended to be pirates conquering the Caddo swamp, had the boys sneaked off by themselves and discussed what they’d be when they grew up? Emmy had daydreamed about marrying Riley Gray Wolf and caring for their kids while he went off to work. Those were secret dreams she hadn’t shared with a soul. Funny thing about dreams—they hardly ever came true.

  “Emmy? You seem miles away.”

  “What? Oh.” She blushed. “I . . . er . . . don’t think I’ve ever heard of Mr. Thorndyke. Isn’t the evidence Sheriff Fielder has on Jed circumstantial? Surely a good attorney will get him off.”

  Gwyn sighed. “I hope so. Anyway, I’ve probably bent your ear enough. Jed can answer any other questions you might have. If the house meets with your approval, I’ll take off and let you get settled. I’m on my way into town. Now, don’t forget—dinner at eight-thirty. I assume you know how to get to Beaumarais?”

  “Yes.” Emmy pictured the big white mansion on the hill that Jed used to say would eventually belong to him. Everyone but Will and Emmy had laughed at his prediction. The families of the other kids in the area were involved with timber, oil or cattle. Who could blame them for thinking throwaway kids would never have two dimes to rub together? So true in her case. But Emmy had no clue as to her ancestry, while Jed had always known he was the illegitimate son of a mother whose family was filthy rich.

  “Gwyn, shouldn’t you wait and discuss my coming to dinner with Jed? Not to mention the possibility that I might be renting our old house. Give him time to adjust to the idea of dealing with another ghost from the past?”

  Gwyn paused at the door. “Frankly, Jed will be overjoyed to see how flesh-and-blood you are, Emmy. Since we got back from our short honeymoon, he’s talked about trying to locate you and Will. I’m not sure, but he may be scared to death Tessa will unearth you and Will from that site next. Of course, Fielder hasn’t given her permission to reopen her dig, although she’s hounding him to lift the ban.”

  Emmy followed Gwyn outside. “Since I first read the article, I’ve had a difficult time believing it’s true. I feel as though it happened in another life.” She shook her head. “I was just a kid, but I know Mom Fran was well-liked. She worked hard. Work and us three kids were her life. I’ve racked my brain and I can’t fathom why anyone would murder her.”

  “Nor can Jed. He said if it happened today, he’d guess a random act of violence. Nineteen years ago, he said, Uncertain was as safe as any place could be.”

  “I’m glad you were here to help Jed through the funeral. I know it’s belated, but I’d like to take flowers to the cemetery if you’ll direct me to her grave.”

  Gwyn’s lips contorted. “Fielder refused to release the—the—remains. There hasn’t been a service yet, which makes it doubly hard on Jed.”

  “Gwyn, that’s terrible! You know, I haven’t been sure about sticking around. But how can I not stay and support Jed?”

  “Oh, Emmy . . .”

  A child’s voice interrupted Gwyn’s struggle to complete her thanks.

  Emmy glanced around and saw a little girl hanging over the fence. She had hair the color of midnight gathered on either side of her head in two corkscrew ponytails. Blue jeans tapered over scuffed white sneakers. A frilly pink blouse enhanced a delicate bone structure.

  Emmy smiled at the girl. She was no judge of children’s ages, but this one couldn’t be more than four or five.

  Gwyn returned the girl’s wave. “Hi, Alanna.”

  “Miss Gwyn, are you moving back to the little house?”

  “No. Remember, I married Jed Louis? You were the flower girl at our wedding. This is Emmy Monday, Alanna. She’s going to live here.”

  “We didn’t discuss price,” Emmy protested. “I may not be able to afford it.”

  “Fiddlesticks.” Gwyn brushed aside Emmy’s concerns. “It’s up to Jed, but I’d be surprised if he lets you pay.”

  “I’m not here to freeload,” she said firmly. “I have money. Just not a lot. Depending on how long I stay, I’ll probably need to find a job.”

  The child at the fence prattled on. “Emmy’s a nice name. And you look nice, not grumpy like Mrs. Yates. Tonight I’ll ask Daddy if you can baby-sit me instead of her.”

  Emmy cast a startled glance at the child, then appealed to Gwyn for aid. Emmy had once worked for a temporary agency in Galveston who’d sent her to fill in for a sick nanny. The children were younger than this girl, one a baby and the other a toddler. Emmy had enjoyed the assignment, but she’d never had occasion to repeat it. “Who is this precocious child?” she muttered out of the side of her mouth. Louder, to the little girl, she said, “Your name is pretty, too.”

  “Emmy, meet Alanna Gray,” Gwyn said, handling the introductions. “I believe I mentioned her dad is Jed’s friend and attorney on business matters,” she added.

  “Riley lives next door? In that house?” Floored by the news, Emmy gaped at the child. Riley’s daughter. She supposed that if she compared them feature for feature, she’d see a resemblance to Riley in the smoky-black eyes and impish grin. The boy Emmy recalled so well had been wiry but strong. Totally masculine. Riley had always walked with an inherent male swagger. Alanna’s girlish attributes obviously came from her mother. Her mother! What had Cassie said about Riley’s wife? Something vague; Emmy couldn’t quite recall it.

  “Miss Emmy? Will you ask Mrs. Yates to let me come over and play with your kitty and doggie?”

  Still reeling, Emmy responded too sharply. “I don’t have any pets.”

  “She’ll be so disappointed,” Gwyn whispered. “Mrs. Yates is terribly allergic. Alanna loved my animals. I’m afraid I let her pretend one of my kittens was hers while I lived here.” She raised her voice again. “Oh, I forgot to say, in addition to raising miniature horses, I’m also an animal agent.” When Emmy failed to comment, Gwyn explained. “I supply many of the pets used in local TV commercials or magazine ads. I’m like a casting agent. I negotiate fees and monitor work hours and schedules. Animals are a lot like child stars. I make sure they’re not exploited.”

  Finally, slowly coming out of her stupor, Emmy darted a surreptitious glance at Alanna Gray. “You have an unusual job, Gwyn. It sounds very interesting. I . . . ah . . . assume if Alanna stays with a sitter it’s because her mom also works. What does she do?”

  Gwyn pitched her reply an octave lower, although Alanna had dropped from the fence to chase after a squirrel. “Her mom died. When Alanna was a baby.” Gwyn followed the child with dark, sympathetic eyes.

  “I didn’t know.” Emmy’s brows drew together. “Cassie—someone I knew from before—works at the café in town. She said Riley had gotten married and had a child. I wish she’d told me his wife passed away. I ran into him at the bank. Literally ran into him. He asked me out for coffee. I’m afraid I acted rather rude when he didn’t suggest having his wife join us.”

  “You thought he was playing around on her?” Gwyn exclaimed in surprise. “I haven’t known him long, but that doesn’t strike me as Riley’s style. He’s devoted to his law practice and to Alanna. Jed’s had to pry him out of the house for anything social.”

  “Obviously he’s changed. The old Riley dated two or three girls at once. Even when he was underage, he played pool and threw darts four or five nights a week at Crazy Jake’s Pub. He was exceptionally social back then.”

  The little girl again appeare
d to swing on the fence. She chimed in on the conversation. “My daddy’s got a pool table and a dart board. I can’t play. Only big people can.” She issued a tragic sigh that made Gwyn and Emmy grin.

  “Your daddy taught me to throw darts when I was a kid,” Emmy said. “Because I bugged him. He’s patient, though. He never made fun of my mistakes. Once you’re a bit older, Alanna, I’m sure he’ll teach you.”

  “You knew my daddy when you were little?”

  Emmy nodded, sharp memories propelling her back to a time when she’d followed Riley around like a stray puppy. He’d eventually grown tired of having her always at his heels and had taught her to throw darts so she’d give him some space. It had the opposite effect. He’d finally noticed her—noticed she was growing up.

  Standing here looking at the child he’d created with another woman, Emmy forced her mind off Riley and onto darts. In later years, the game relaxed her, had carried her back to happier times, so she made it a point to play regularly. With each match, she captured bits and pieces of Riley. His muscular brown arm reaching around to steady her hand. His gravelly voice whispering in her ear.

  Darn, this wasn’t smart.

  Alanna spoke, distracting Emmy from a bout of melancholy. “That’s cool. Did you know my daddy then, too, Miss Gwyn?”

  “No. I was raised in a city a long way from here.” Gwyn glanced over Alanna’s head, toward the house. “I hear Mrs. Yates calling you. Tell her I was introducing you to your new neighbor.” Gwyn wagged a hand at the waiting sitter.

  Alanna appeared reluctant to leave. She turned several times and resorted to skipping backward on one foot, continuing to wave at Gwyn and Emmy.

  Then the older woman came down the steps to meet the girl, and after the two of them had disappeared, Gwyn released a pent-up breath. “If you don’t like children, Emmy, you’ll have to set firm limits. Alanna is grownup for her age, but she’s lonely. Mrs. Yates is getting on in years, and Alanna wears her out. I’m afraid I allowed her to run in and out of my place at will.”