"Fair enough."
An uneasy silence lingered in the cabin as the small plane descended from the clouds and headed for the short runway. A few moments later, it rolled to a halt outside the hangar. As they unbuckled their seat belts, Dykes' lanky frame appeared in the cockpit doorway.
"Well, folks. Was that some kind of ride, or what?" he asked with a crooked grin.
"Great job," Jack congratulated him. "You cut through that storm front like a steak knife slicing through butter. I wasn't worried at all."
"Yeah, good job. Thanks." Mary echoed, although not so enthusiastically.
"So, what happens next?" Dykes asked.
"We go to the plantation," Jack answered. "You're coming as our guest, and I won't take no for an answer."
Dykes peered at Mary for a few moments. "That okay with you, Mary?"
She forced her frown into a false smile. "Of course you're welcome, Dykes. What kind of question is that?"
He scratched his forehead. "Just making sure. I don't want to put you out, and I know you've been through a lot these last few days."
"Don't be silly. You're always welcome. Especially now that we'll be making several trips to Boston to take care of my aunt's affairs." She massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers. "I'm sorry if I seemed distant. I've just got a lot on my mind."
Jack clapped Dykes on the back. "See? I told you Mary liked you. Now that that's all settled, I'll help you with the luggage."
"Nah, I can get it. Why don't you two wait in the coffee shop while I take care of all the formalities? It won't take long, and I need you to make sure they save a piece of peach pie for me." He smacked his lips. "I've been thinking about pie ever since we left Boston. Can't wait to sink my teeth into a piece," he grinned.
Jack followed him out of the plane. "Sounds like a good idea." Turning, he waited for Mary. "What do you think, baby? You feel like a cup of coffee and a slice of pie?"
She nodded. "Sounds good."
He cupped Mary's elbow and walked with her toward the terminal. "Okay then, Dykes. We'll catch you in a little while."
"Where's the third musketeer?" their waitress asked with a wide grin. "I already gave the cook your order."
"Who, Dykes? He'll be here in a few minutes. Said for you to save him a piece of peach pie," Mary answered, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"I'd like to save up more than that for him," the waitress teased. "Man, oh man, he's some kind of hunk."
"Hey, what about me?" Jack asked, puffing out his bottom lip into a pout. "What am I, chopped liver?"
The older woman patted his arm. "Don't worry, Jack. You're still my favorite," she teased. "After him, of course."
"See if I leave you a big tip anymore," he threatened in mock anger.
Mary snickered. "Don't worry, Pauline. I'll leave you a bigger tip than Jack ever did, just for taking him down a peg or two."
The waitress ruffled Jack's hair and sauntered into the kitchen. She returned a short time later with their order. Winking at Jack, she made a big production out of placing his pie just so on the table.
"You think she was serious about Dykes?" he asked after she disappeared into the kitchen.
Mary shook her head. "Nah. He has that effect on all women. Old or young, it doesn't matter. They all have a crush on him."
Jack lifted his eyebrows. "And what about you? Does he have that effect on you, Mary?"
She nearly choked on her spoonful of pie. Was Jack jealous? Stifling the smirk that rose to her lips, she chose her words carefully. "Nah, he's too slick for my taste. Besides, as charming as Dykes is, he can't hold a candle to you, baby. And that's the truth."
Jack flashed her a wide grin. "Just checking, sweetie. Gotta keep an eye on the competition, you know."
She patted his hand. "That's one thing you don't have to worry about, Jack. Nobody--and I do mean nobody--can even come close to you."
"Okay, no smooching in the corner," Dykes teased as he grabbed a chair. "Save that for later."
"Actually we were just talking about you," Mary answered with a wry smile. "Seems that you've made a conquest with our waitress."
Dykes grinned and rubbed his hands together. "Really? Well, if she's who I think she is, maybe I'll have to see about cultivating some new friendships while I'm down here."
Jack swatted him lightly with his newspaper. "Down, Rover. She's sixty-five and old enough to be your mother."
Dykes' grin faded, then reappeared. "Damn. Well then, it looks like I'll just have to spend all my spare time helping you check out the tunnel. What do you say?"
Much to Mary's chagrin, Jack nodded enthusiastically, and his face lit up with excitement. "Sounds like a plan. I just bought this really cool metal detector. Wait till you see this puppy. It can detect and identify almost anything..."
34
Jack dropped the last of his dirty clothes into a heap on the bedroom floor. "That's all I have," he announced, flopping onto the bed.
Mary glanced over to the pile of dirty laundry. "Those are supposed to go into a basket."
"I'm waiting for you to finish so I can carry everything down at once," he retorted with a sly grin, and ducked when a pair of folded socks nearly hit his head.
"No, you're not. Besides, I don't have any dirty clothes. You're waiting for me to take them downstairs; admit it."
"Not true," he protested. "Just to prove it, I'll even do the laundry myself."
Her laugh echoed through the room. "No thanks, sweetie. The last time you did laundry, we all had pink underwear for a month. Your job is to carry the basket down to the washer; I'll do the laundry."
"You sure they'll have enough time to dry before we leave? If it's a problem, I can always stick the dirty stuff in a garbage bag and do laundry when we get to Boston. I've done that lots of times."
She wrinkled her nose. "Yuk. I don't think so, baby. I'm not about to let either one of us start out on a trip with a garbage bag full of dirty clothes. If you'll take the basket downstairs, I'll make sure everything's washed, dried, and in your suitcase before we leave this afternoon."
He sighed dramatically. "Okay. You forced me into it."
"Gee, and you didn't even put up much of a fight," she teased.
He watched as she removed clothing from her dresser drawers and placed it in the open suitcase. When she accidentally knocked her purse off the edge of the bed, the two unopened letters fell to the floor.
"You can't ignore them forever," he pointed out, bending over to retrieve the errant envelopes. "We've been home nearly two days and you haven't even looked at them."
"I know," she answered, moving away from the bed to stare out the window.
"Are you still going to talk to Sadie?"
"I think so. I haven't found a good opportunity to approach her."
He rose from the bed, wrapped both arms around her waist, and hugged her close. "There's never going to be a right time, and we're scheduled to fly back to Boston later this afternoon. If you're going to ask Sadie, you better do it quick. Besides, no matter what happens, I'm here for you and I won't let anything come between us. I promise." Lowering his chin, he nuzzled her on the side of her neck. "Do you want me to come with you?"
She shook her head and slipped out of his arms. "No. This is something I need to do for myself. Thanks anyway." She brushed the tips of her fingers down the side of his face and kissed him. "Why don't you and Dykes continue your exploration of the tunnel?"
"You don't need me for moral support?"
She nodded. "Nope. Besides, I don't want Dykes anywhere around Sadie, in case she has another vision."
"But what about--"
"I'll be fine, Jack. Just take the clothes down to the laundry room before you go. Please. That's all you have to do. Once I talk to Sadie, I'll fill you in on the details."
He grabbed an empty basket from the bathroom and stuffed the pile of clothes inside. "Okay, you can count on me to keep him busy."
"Thanks." After he disappea
red into the hall, she picked up the envelopes. Perching on the edge of the bed, she used her index finger to trace over her name. What did the letters contain? Information about her past that could help her understand what was happening to her, or a pack of hurtful lies, fabricated by an embittered, spiteful old woman?
After several minutes ticked by she realized she was no closer to reaching a decision than she had been when Charles first handed the letters to her. Maybe Sadie was the answer. If not, she couldn't be any worse off than before. It was time she made a decision; she'd stalled long enough. Taking a deep breath, she tucked the letters into the back pocket of her jeans and started down the stairs.
* * * * *
"Justine, have you seen Jack?" Mary called down from the second floor. "He and Dykes were supposed to be heading up to the house."
"They haven't made it back yet," Justine replied. "Do you want me to go and check on them?"
"No, thanks. I'll do it." Mary returned to her room, changed her shoes, and stomped down the stairs. She should've known better than to believe Jack when he told her they'd be done in a "few minutes." Yeah, right.
Bits and pieces of conversation, followed by barks of laughter drifted up from inside the tunnel into the workshop. From the sound of the guffaws, it was evident the two men were still having the time of their lives. Descending the few steps at the entrance, she paused, waiting for a lull in their conversation.
"Jack, Dykes, where are you?"
"Mary, is that you?"
"No, it's the ghost of Christmas past," she responded dryly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we have less than two hours to get to the airport. You two need to start packing up so we can leave on time."
"Okay, but first come see what we've found," Jack called out.
She thought about declining the invitation, but decided she might as well humor him one last time. Besides, Jack hadn't had this much fun in ages; even though she had no interest in investigating the tunnel, he did, and she wasn't about to ruin his fun. Lord knows he'd put up with enough of her bad news these last couple of weeks; the least she could do was feign some degree of interest. "Where are you?"
"We're just past the bend," Dykes called out in a deep baritone. "Sorry to keep you waiting; we forgot about the time."
Minding the uneven surface of the floor, she picked her way forward, following the sound of Dykes' voice.
"There you are. Check this out," Jack said, holding out a small bundle.
"What is it?"
"It's part of an old weapon. Most of the wood's rotted out, but some of the metal's still there."
She watched as he unwrapped the cloth to reveal the cylinder of what appeared to be a revolver. "Can you tell what it's from?"
He rewrapped his precious find and handed it to her. "Not yet; too much dirt. I'll be able to tell more once I clean it up."
"That's great, baby. I'm glad you two finally found something worth keeping," she said, holding the bundle while he and Dykes picked up their tools.
"You know, Mary, you've been a really good sport about all this," Dykes commented as they were walking back through the tunnel. "Most wives would have thrown a fit if their husbands had holed themselves up in a tunnel for two straight days."
"Well, you guys seemed to be having such a good time, how could I complain?"
Jack draped an arm across her shoulders. "He's right, you know. You've been really good about this, especially since it's supposed to be your vacation. I'm sorry if we ruined it for you."
"No problem. Besides, just because I didn't want to spend all my time investigating a tunnel doesn't mean I begrudged you doing it. I didn't expect you to cater to my every whim while I was on vacation. That comes next week," she teased.
Jack dropped a light kiss on her cheek. "Anything you want, baby. Just name it, and it's yours."
"Okay, Dykes. You heard him. You're my witness. He said whatever I wanted, I could have."
Dykes shook his head. "Who, me? I didn't hear anything. Didn't you know I was partially deaf?"
"Don't worry, baby. No witnesses needed. You can have whatever you want," Jack promised as they climbed out of the tunnel. "As long as it doesn't cost over a hundred bucks, that is."
She thumped him on the arm. "I knew there had to be a catch. We'll negotiate pricing later. Right now I want you two to get cleaned up so we can leave."
Jack placed his metal detector on the workshop bench, then gently laid his find next to it. "All right. As soon as I've locked up, I'll be in to take a shower."
Mary paused in the doorway. "I've already packed our suitcases, so all you have to do is get cleaned up."
After she left, Dykes made sure his lantern had been properly switched off before he stacked it on the shelf behind Jack's. "What can I do to help?"
"Nothing. I just need to make sure the tunnel entrance is locked so nobody can get in while we're gone. I don't want any kids sneaking down there and getting hurt. You go on ahead while I close up shop," Jack suggested. "It'll only take a few minutes."
"What about the stuff we found?" Dykes asked, eyeing the bundle.
"I'll lock it up until we get back. There's no rush. The guys aren't coming to fill in the tunnel for a week or two."
"I didn't know you'd made plans to fill it in."
"Too much of an insurance risk. I called the guys last night and made arrangements for them to come out. I think they're coming on the twenty-fifth or twenty-sixth."
Dykes turned to leave, then swung back around. "I just wanted to say thanks for letting me help out. I appreciate it."
"No problem. Mary doesn't like tunnels, so I was glad to have the company." Jack watched Dykes make his way to the house, then turned his attention back to the bundle on the shelf. Unfolding the cloth, he brushed off as much loose dirt as he could, then held the cylinder up to the light. Unfortunately, too much mud still clung to the metal to identify any markings. Sighing softly, he spread out two new rags on the shelf and gently rewrapped the fragile hunk of metal. As interesting as this find was, it would have to wait until he got back from Boston.
Unless...unless he took it on the plane with him. No, better not. With airport security as tight as it was, it probably wouldn't be a good idea. With his luck, the security guys would probably do a surprise inspection and he'd have to do a lot of explaining to the authorities. Better to leave it home until he returned.
Once he'd secured the entrance to the tunnel, Jack headed toward the house. It was obvious Mary was in a hurry to return to Boston. Why? Did it have something to do with what she'd learned from Sadie? He hadn't had a chance to talk to her since this morning, so he had no idea what she'd found out. Was it good news or bad, and if bad, what kind of havoc was it going to wreak in their lives?
35
Jack hung up the intercom and turned toward Mary. "All buckled in?"
She nodded and felt the slight change in cabin pressure as the plane lifted off the runway and began its upward climb. Once they rose above the clouds and leveled off, she unbuckled her seatbelt, dug the two unopened letters out of her briefcase, and set them on the worktable to her left.
"Want anything to drink?" she asked, moving toward the small refrigerator.
"Diet Coke."
"Ice?"
He shook his head. "Not if they're cold."
The pop of the soda can lids cut through the silence like a knife. After handing Jack his soda, Mary returned to her seat. "I spoke to Sadie," she began in a slow voice. "But her answer wasn't at all what I expected."
"How so?"
"Well, to begin with, Sadie was insulted that I even asked for her help. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't a con artist. She said her visions are from God, and she has no control over when they come or what they're about. I really think I hurt her feelings." She ran a hand through her hair, then continued, "I felt terrible. I've never seen Sadie so upset. After she chewed me out, she just stared at me. It was awful."
"You're kidding."
"Would I joke about something as serious as this? To say I was floored by her response would be putting it mildly. I'm not sure what to think, but I'm afraid she might have had a reason to refuse."
"What's that?"
"What if she sensed that there's really bad news in the letters and didn't want to comment on it?"
Jack stared at his wife sympathetically. She certainly needed his support now. "What happened then?"
"I tried to apologize, but she wasn't in the mood to listen. Like I said, she just stared at me with those big, dark eyes, then left."
He clasped his hands together under his chin and eased back into his chair. "What are you going to do now?"
"We're going to open them. I have to deal with this. Might as well get it over with." Picking up the letters, she tossed one to him and kept the other. "You open one; I'll take the other. Then we'll switch. Okay?"
"You sure you want to do this?"
She nodded. "Yeah. If it's something really rotten about my parents, just tear it up."
"Who goes first?"
"You. That is, if you don't mind."
"No problem." Pulling an ink pen out of his pocket, he slid the tip of the pen under the back flap and ripped the top of the envelope. "Okay, here goes." Unfolding the pages, he quickly scanned the spidery scrawl for any mention of Mary's father. "Nothing about your parents here."
She shifted nervously in her chair. "What does it say?"
He reached out and squeezed her hand. "I think it's a continuation of the other letter. Why don't you open yours, and once you've read it, you can read this one."
"Okay." She quelled shaking hands and tore open the side of the envelope. Withdrawing the folded sheets, she started to read her aunt's childish scrawl out loud.
Dear Mary:
If you're reading this letter, I'm dead. Don't bother to shed any tears for me; I don't want or need them. Also, don't expect any money from my estate, because I'm not leaving you any. I'm writing this letter because you haven't bothered to return my call. If you had, you wouldn't have had to wait until I died to find out that you come from a family of very special women.
Breaking the Chain Page 17
