A Chance Mistake

by Jackie Zack

  He meant to tell her the things he’d learned at the police station and the clothing store, but what a thing to discuss before falling asleep. If she’d be able to sleep after that.

  So many things he wanted to know about her.

  “I was wondering…” His words seemed to float out in the dark. “How long have you lived here?”

  “Close on to six months.”

  He didn’t respond, hoping she’d elaborate.

  “Nesta let me move in two months before I was married. Actually giving me the property fell into her plans. She and Uncle Marv wanted to move…to be closer to his new job. And her daughter Ruby told her that she had no intentions of being married soon, which caused a row between them. See how that’s changed? Her wedding is coming soon.”

  “Nesta wants Ruby to have the property.”

  “Does she ever.”

  “So you weren’t married very long…?” He hated to ask. Part of him worried that she could be pregnant. George was the lowest of low if he annulled his marriage to a pregnant wife.

  “About three months.” Another long pause. “I feel like such a failure.” Her voice wavered as she spoke.”

  “You’re not—”

  “George told the judge he deserved an annulment because he’d been coerced into the marriage.”

  “Why? How could that be?”

  “Because once I was married, I’d get the property. He made it out to be that I used him. Like I said before, all he really wanted was the house and cottage. He wanted to sell them and invest the money in some scheme. He hadn’t understood that although I get to live here, I’ll never really own it. At any rate, the judge owed him a favor, so it was all accomplished in short order.”

  What could he say? He hated that she had to experience all that.

  “A day after George left, Hoover moved in the neighboring house.”

  Wait. What did that have to do with anything? She didn’t like him, right?

  “He’s a shepherd. Did I tell you?”

  “No. He has sheep and a pet goat…?”

  “That’s right. It seems the world would be a better place if all men farmed or raised animals. Wouldn’t there be less turmoil in the world? Hoover says he’s happy watching his flock.”

  “Yeah, well. I’m sure there would still be problems. Look at all the trouble his goat gets into.”

  “I guess you’re right.” The words came slow, and she yawned.

  He knew there was more to ask her, but a thought niggled in the back of his mind that he hadn’t checked the doors.

  “I’m going to make sure everything is locked up.”

  “Both doors are locked, but carry on.”

  He found his set of keys and slipped them into a pocket. Kory moved through the house on stealth mode. As he passed by the kitchen, Griff lost interest in his food and followed. The front door was locked. Good.

  From the hallway at the other end of the house, a muffled sound of snoring could be heard. Auntie had fallen asleep already.

  Kory walked through the kitchen and down the steps to the backdoor. From what he could see of the yard through the window in the door, it appeared still and inviting.

  Griff gave a questioning expression with a turn of his head.

  “Sorry, boy. Not this time.”

  Kory stepped outside and closed the door behind him. It locked. Moonlight bathed the yard. All was quiet, the air cool and refreshing. He filled his lungs.

  Whoa. Was there a person by the cottage? A shiver caught the back of his neck and he jolted, nearly losing his too-big jeans. He grabbed the waistband and pulled them back up. It looked like a person’s lower leg and foot as they stepped behind the stone cottage. No, it couldn’t be. Yet, that was what he saw. And he had no weapon to defend himself.

  He stealthily made his way around the side of the yard, so he wouldn’t be as exposed in the moonlit clearing. Blend in with the bushes and trees—what a great plan. At least his sarcasm was still intact. He peered into the shed and couldn’t see anything but a black hole.

  He kept moving until he was even with the side of the cottage. Nothing out of place at the front or side. He flattened himself against the wall and crept to peek at the back of the cottage. His imagination nearly killed him with visions of coming face to face with a slimy alien or a man holding an ax ready to chop. Kory took in breath, gripped the wall, and leaned ever so slightly to peek with one eye. All the while ready to jerk back and make a run for the backdoor, holding his pants up for dear life.

  “Ba-a-ah.” Biggins flicked his ears. His white and gray fur shone in the light blue light.

  “Stupid goat.” Then he realized he shouldn’t have spoken so soon. The feisty animal could charge him.

  Kory retraced his steps and then walked the length of the front of the cottage and peered along the other side. Nothing.

  He thought for sure he saw a man step around the cottage. Could it have been Hoover after his goat? And when he saw Kory, the neighbor headed back home? Or was it someone more sinister?

  Chapter 11

  Kory unlocked the backdoor, stepped inside, and shut it behind him, making sure it locked. Could he have a more unsettling vacation? No way was he going to answer that. Things could always be worse. He glanced down the steps to the black basement, sure that he wouldn’t be able to see his hand in front of his face down there. He shuddered, suddenly cold, and took the other steps two at a time into the kitchen.

  It had to be Hoover in the yard after his goat. He probably forgot the leash and had to head back home for it.

  Why had Dafina mentioned Hoover bounding into her life right after George? Was it matter of fact or something more? He paced the kitchen—only six strides each way, but he’d take it. Was she entertaining the thought of Hoover as a possible answer to her problem? She spoke well of him being a sheepherder, and that basically every man should be one to be happy. Ugh! Kory would simply go out of his mind doing that.

  Or would he?

  Before she’d said that Hoover wasn’t her type. She couldn’t go for the body-builder types…

  “Oh, my word.” His hand smacked against his forehead, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

  How could he be so dumb? It was her dry, sarcastic humor. Had to be. Men like Hoover drove women crazy. But there had to be a reason why she pushed away his friendship or advances. Maybe she thought it too soon after her husband deserted her.

  And here Kory was, not much better than any of them. How had he gotten himself into such a bind? He wanted to help Dafina and protect her, but staying in her room? Sure it was innocent enough with him sleeping on the floor, but Nesta would find out sooner or later that he wasn’t Dafina’s husband. He wanted to protect her honor. So what if Nesta saw him sleeping on the couch? Married couples slept apart sometimes. He hoped.

  He crept toward Dafina’s room and slipped in, not breathing or making any other sound. He grabbed his bag of new clothes. He could be up and dressed before either of the women knew anything. The paper bag crinkled. He worried that he’d awakened her, but she was a silent bump under her covers.

  At the end of the hall, he opened a closet door to find space for his clothes. The door softly creaked. Instead of shelves, a wooden stairway stood in its place. He totally wasn’t expecting that.

  Something soft touched his elbow making him jump. “Eeah!”

  “Looking for something?” Dafina’s voice.

  “Oh, you startled me.” Some great protector he was. “Yes. A place to hide this away.” He lifted the bag slightly. “I thought the door belonged to a closet.”

  “It leads upstairs.” She rubbed an eye and frowned.

  “Really?” He lifted both eyebrows. Not a stairway to nowhere?

  “Wasn’t my closet okay?” She blinked.

  “Uh.”

  “Kory.” Her lip quivered. “Please don’t leave me alone with Nesta.”

  “I’m not. But listen.” He set down the bag and lightly touched her arm. “Someday,
Nesta will find out. What will you do? How long do you think you can fool her?”

  “She’s barely a part of my life…and Mum’s life.”

  “Obviously, she didn’t go to your wedding. Or do George and I look that much alike?”

  “Ha. No. You’re much more…um.” She shook her head. “George and I decided to have the town clerk marry us. Come to think, it was his idea. Bother. But anyway, it’s only now that Nesta has come to check up on everything. Might be years before she comes again. But…but you’re right.”

  “If you can never own the house, who does?”

  “My grandparents, but technically my grandfather. I thought about pleading with Grandmum. She’s always been the one to sway his heart. But they are all about tradition.”

  “Hmm.” What a tangled problem.

  She pointed to the bag. “Why did you need a different place for them?”

  “I was trying to protect your honor.”

  She laughed. “By moving your clothes?”

  “And by me sleeping on the couch.”

  “Egad. What will Nesta say?”

  “Tell her anything you wish. We had a fight and you threw me out, or I started to snore.” He smiled at her changing expressions of worry to delight.

  “Ha.” She quirked a smile.

  “Then when or if Nesta finds out that I’m not your husband. You can tell her I was a complete gentleman. And your reputation is spared.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Kory, but I don’t think it will much matter.” She picked up his bag and took it back into her room. “At least keep your things in ‘ere—to make it look more natural.”

  “So the stairs go to the attic?” The silver light shining down the steps stoked his curiosity. For all he knew, the passage way could lead to some unknown world. In his next book he could—

  She returned and leaned against the doorframe to her room. “Of sorts.” She shrugged.

  His line of vision wandered up the stairs.

  “Go ahead and check it out, if you like. I won’t be going up there again.” Her brows creased and she looked like she could spit fire. But when her eyes met his, her expression softened. “Goodnight.”

  He headed up the stairs that groaned and creaked on a few of the steps. Moonlight shone through two square windows. A dark colored quilt lay in a heap on the floor. The bed stripped bare. Light walls—blank. The ceiling was the most striking part of the room as an inverted V shape. Rough hewn beams added charm and rustic coziness, but all he could feel was a lingering coldness and sorrow.

  ****

  “What was your childhood like?” Aunt Nesta directed her gaze on Kory as she slipped a knife into her stack of pancakes. Thank goodness it was an easy question. He’d thought he had everything under control. He’d slept on the couch, awakened before the ladies, put on his new clothes, and made pancakes with Dafina’s help. But he’d missed his chance of asking her more questions before Auntie was in their midst. He hoped he wouldn’t get asked something that he should know the answer, but didn’t.

  “It was great. A lot of good memories. Mom was a teacher, so she had summers off with me and my sister, Elaine. Dad was an attorney.”

  “Was?” Auntie asked.

  Kory fought a smile. Nesta sat in Pop’s chair and had even taken on his slumping posture. He wondered how she would gush over the strange sight of the stuffed dummy. Dafina, I might say…

  “They’re retired,” Kory answered. “And work in a soup kitchen.”

  “How noble.” The older woman nodded.

  “It’s their life now—their calling.” He looked at Dafina. Her eyes were engrossed on studying his gray and black speckled sweater. Uh-oh, did his clothes appear better than hers?

  “Dafina, dear, how different Kory’s upbringing is than yours.” Nesta shoveled in a three layered bite of pancake.

  “Yes, true that. Mum couldn’t help it. She did everything she could…I was happy, too. We didn’t have much, but—”

  “Did your father ever send along his new address? What’s he up to now?” Auntie’s questions came across in a piercing fashion.

  Dafina’s eyes became watery. “Come now, you know that we haven’t heard from him in fifteen years or more. We have no idea—he gave us addresses at first when he moved, then nothing. I’m sure he has a new life.”

  “There, there, dear. No need to get defiant.” Nesta touched her mouth with a napkin.

  “I’m not.” Dafina set her expression in a firm, detached manner.

  “So, Kory,” Nesta fixed her steely eyes his direction, “you decided you wanted to be a writer when you were a child—riding bicycles with your friend? How wonderful, wouldn’t you say? To figure out your career when you’re so young. Poor Dafina still hasn’t decided what she wants to do.”

  Dafina set down her fork with a clatter. “I have plenty of ideas, I do. I did back then, too, but—”

  “Actually, I hadn’t decided to be a writer when I was a child.” Kory held Dafina’s hand before she shredded the napkin on her lap.

  “Oh?” Auntie blinked and a square of pancake fell off her fork.

  “I had started law school to be an attorney like my father. Then I switched majors. I’m sure you can imagine how that went over.” He smiled at Dafina when her mouth opened in surprise. “It all went back to encouragement I’d received from my high school English teacher. I always remembered it. He liked my characters. He said the dialog in my stories flowed naturally. His words gave me hope. I can’t imagine what I’d be doing now if he hadn’t touched my life.”

  Dafina hugged his arm.

  “Words are powerful things.” And so was the sense of touch. He had to keep reminding himself that she was only playing a role. Perhaps part of her had always wanted to be on stage. She was certainly beautiful enough.

  “But what about your religious upbringing?” Auntie questioned Dafina. “I doubt Kory here—”

  Dafina’s eyes sparked and who knew what kind of thoughts raced through her mind.

  “I think her Christian upbringing is wonderful.” Kory took a stab at bringing peace. “True, our backgrounds are different, but we have common ground. Our core Christian beliefs are the same. That’s the most important, wouldn’t you say?”

  Auntie had no answer, and she didn’t disagree.

  “What do you think of Dafina’s church?” Her eyes regarded him with curiosity.

  “Uh—” Kory looked to Dafina for help.

  “He’s not been…yet. But we’re going this Sunday.”

  “I feel terrible about letting my deadline come before church. That’s one thing I plan to change…when I start writing again.” Please help me, Lord. He had put off going. And the more time that passed, the harder it was to go. No wonder he lacked wisdom when it came to Ed—more like, when it came to life in general.

  Nesta finished her breakfast, and she headed to her room to rest for a while and read. Much to the satisfaction of Dafina. She visibly relaxed then set about muttering to herself while washing the dishes. He dried the wet plates that Dafina handed him, and he slipped into blank mode.

  After he and Dafina cleaned up the kitchen mess, he took her to her room, so they could relay information of their backgrounds, likes, and dislikes. He wrote everything down in the journal he’d purchased from her store, but everything she said engrained itself in his mind. Dafina wouldn’t write anything down for fear Nesta would see it and wonder what was up.

  He got the nitty-gritty details of her childhood and young adult life which were, more or less, a series of losses. He decided to ask more light-hearted, frivolous questions.

  “Favorite color?” He kept his face devoid of expression, but chuckled inside. Had to be pink. The living room was a dead giveaway. He put the pen to the paper, ready to write.

  “I don’t ‘ave a favorite. I like them all.”

  “What?” His hand jerked leaving a mark. “Everyone has a color they like more than others.”

  “Not me. I like differen
t colors for different things. Like, dark green for cars, lavender for sweaters…”

  “Pink for walls—”

  “Exactly. You ‘ave the idea.”

  “But if you had to choose a color that you like to see or be identified with?”

  “Can’t do it. What about you?”

  “Blue.”

  “Blue? I haven’t seen one thing you own that’s blue. Odd that. I guess all the walls at your home are blue, and your clothes, dishes…carpeting.”

  He shook his head at each one. “I see your point. I like blue because it’s calming. I think of the sky on a sunny day.” He still wanted some sort of answer from her. “Come on. What color would you like to see?”

  “I…guess, green like a garden with pink, orange, and purple flowers.”

  “I’ll take it.” He wrote down the answer.

  A noise clattered from somewhere in the kitchen. Auntie must be on the prowl.

  Chapter 12

  Dafina curled her fingers around the book as she read, glad for a short reprieve from customers. She was perplexed over Kory’s book, The Unseen. The events didn’t seem to add up, but perhaps she had missed something. She glanced at the back door of the bookstore, wondering when Kory and Nesta would want a break from their reading.

  What was she going to do when Nesta left and Kory went on with his holiday? They were already five days into Nesta’s visit with only two days remaining. Each day that Dafina came to work, they’d accompanied her into town and spent time at the shops or in the bookstore’s garden area, reading. Kory seemed to enjoy Nesta’s company which relieved Dafina. And she had to admit he was a right proper husband, too. Maybe men were only good husbands when they set out to pretend to be one. If there wasn’t a study out on such thing, there should be. Ah, there never would. Crazy that.

  All the same, when he looked into her eyes with an expression of love on his face, it was hard to resist. Her face warmed at the thought of the times he’d whispered, Nesta’s coming, then pull her close or give her a kiss on her hair.

  Truth was, when Kory left, she’d be heartbroken. It would almost be worth it to ask Nesta to stay a couple more weeks—or months. But Kory couldn’t go for that. He had to go on with his holiday…and his life.