by Ray Hoy
“Bad at what?”
“Lying. You’re bad at lying. ”
“Whoever said that is a liar.”
She laughed. “Jilly said that, and you know he’s no liar. He said you don’t even know how to lie—and now I can see that he’s right!” She paused again. “C’mon, Jack. What do you really do for a living? You don’t seem to have any visible means of support, yet you’re obviously not hurting for money.”
“You really like to pry, you know that? Gee, you don’t look like the prying type.”
She laughed again and hugged Ripper. It was nice to hear her laugh. I realized she was at least momentarily happy, and that was probably because she was looking forward to seeing Andy McGuire again.
“How come you never married?” she said.
“Married?”
“Jack, you answer every question with a question.”
“I do?”
She sighed. “Oh well, I know everything about you anyway, just by what you haven’t told me.”
I glanced at her. She returned my gaze. For some reason I felt as if I’d just spilled my guts.
“I’m part witch, remember? I see things that are going to happen—not always, but often enough.”
I paused for a moment. “Well, I would think that’d come in pretty handy.”
“It’s not always a blessing.”
It was still raining hard when I reached the top of Spooner Summit and turned right on Route 28. The narrow two-lane road twisted and turned through the pines. Off to my left, Lake Tahoe sprawled across the landscape.
Ripper stretched, trampling Felicia in the process. “Big dog, very big dog,” she muttered.
As we neared Incline Village, there was just enough light in the murky dawn to see the driveways leading up to the exclusive homes nestled in the surrounding hills. I followed her directions, and a few minutes later pulled into the circular driveway of Andy McGuire’s sprawling lakeside home.
Felicia opened her door as soon as the car rolled to a halt, and Ripper jumped out of the car, into the rain. He stood there, waiting for Felicia. She clambered out and ran quickly to the door, Ripper on her heels.
I got out of the Jag just as the front door opened. I heard Andy McGuire’s “Wahoo! Howdy, little gal!” The old man wrapped his huge arms around Felicia and they hugged each other fiercely.
Ripper stood there, looking up at the big fellow. Then, much to my astonishment, McGuire leaned down and playfully ruffled Ripper’s ears!
Felicia squeezed Andy McGuire again and laughed aloud. He grinned at me over the top of her head, and stuck out a meaty hand as I approached. “Howdy, Jack. It’s sure nice to see you again, especially under the circumstances. Jilly called a few hours ago and explained what’cha did. Damn good work!”
Andy stepped aside to let us pass. Felicia stood in the foyer shivering, her hair plastered to her head.
“You’d better get out of that wet dress,” I said.
“What there is of it,” Andy remarked.
“That’s all she has, Andy; she didn’t have time to pack.”
“Ah, hell, we’ll find something for her to wear.” He waved toward the kitchen. “Get some hot coffee, Jack. Why don’tcha pour us some, too, while I get Felicia situated.”
An hour later, Felicia sat on the sofa with her feet tucked under her, wearing one of Andy’s giant-size bathrobes. She had to keep pushing the sleeves up, in order to hold her coffee. She tried her best to follow the conversation, but her eyes were heavy. The long hot bath had relaxed her, and the emotional strain of the past twenty-four hours had taken its toll.
I got to my feet and walked over to her. She looked up at me, trying to appear alert. “Why don’t you catch a few hours of sleep,” I said.
“I’m fine, Jack,” she protested.
“I’m sure you are,” I said. I reached down, lifted her easily, and looked at Andy.
He motioned down the hallway. “Second door on your right,” he said. Felicia mumbled something to Andy over my right shoulder as I carried her off toward the bedroom, her head resting against my chest.
“Sleep tight, honey,” Andy called out. “Don’t you worry, now, you’re safe here.”
I pushed the bedroom door open with my right foot and walked in. The covers were already turned back. I lowered her into bed and covered her. She rolled over on her right side, her long black hair spilling over the pillow, big eyes looking sleepily up at me.
Before I turned to leave, she was sound asleep. I quietly shut the door behind me and walked back down the hallway. Andy was standing by the fireplace waiting for me, a brandy in each hand. He offered me one, which I gratefully accepted.
“I don’t normally drink brandy at this time in the morning, but this is special.”
“Indeed it is,” I said. We toasted each other.
“Jilly said you didn’t have too much trouble getting her out of there,” Andy said. “That surprised me.”
“Varchetta evidently didn’t think we would move that quickly—if at all. We were fortunate.” I told him about Benny, and Varchetta’s offer to let him watch. Andy swore with conviction. He was nearly Benny’s size, but perhaps sixty years old, and looked to be in good condition.
We talked for a while. After Jonathan Flynn had been killed, Andy had sold his entire racing stable and gone into retirement. The enjoyment and excitement that the racing game offered had died along with his friend.
I brought him up to date on what had happened with Felicia since Flynn’s funeral. Andy sat there, his face mellow. He shook his head. “I have to tell you, Jack, that I’m happy to have her back in this house.”
I told him about the five thousand dollars in winnings. “I’d say you had a pretty successful night,” he said with a laugh. But after a few moments his face grew serious. “Uh, Jilly said you wanted to use my cabin up in the hills behind Virginia City.”
I nodded. “I think it’s a good idea if we disappear for a few weeks. Felicia is not in good shape, Andy. I know this scared the hell out of her, but people in her mental state—and with her substance abuse problem—have poor memories and even worse judgment.
“Jilly and I both agree with you. You’re welcome to use the cabin for as long as you want.” He hesitated. “I reckon Felicia told you that she and Jon spent some time together up there.”
“She did.” I could see that he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to go about it. “You’re wondering how she’ll feel about my being there,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess I am,” he said.
“I’ll make it as painless as possible. I don’t want to step on any old memories. Right now I’m more worried about her safety.”
“You’re right of course,” he said. “You want to hang around here for a few days before you go on up there?”
“Let’s see how she feels in the morning.” The tension had gone out of me, the warmth and security of the house had worked its magic spell, and suddenly I felt like Raggedy Andy. I was so tired I could hardly keep my eyes open. I leaned back against the sofa. “Andy, I’m out of gas. Been a long day.”
“With what you’ve just gone through, that’s sure understandable. Your bedroom is the first door on the left, Jack.”
I got to my feet, feeling old and used. I shook hands with Andy and tottered off down the hallway. As I started to enter my room, I glanced back down the hallway. Andy was still standing there with his thoughts, staring down at the floor.
* * *
I was up early. I rummaged around the kitchen, found the makings for coffee, and was having my second cup when Andy came lumbering down the hallway in his bathrobe, wearing a worried look.
“Morning, Andy,” I said.
“Morning, Jack.” He motioned back down the hallway with his head. “Felicia’s awake, I can hear her in her bathroom, retching all over the place.”
“Maybe she caught cold, running through that rainstorm wearing just that flimsy dress.”
“Maybe.”
/> He didn’t sound convinced. I poured him a cup of coffee. “I’m going to take her out and buy her some new clothes with the five grand Varchetta donated,” I said.
Andy grinned, showing great banks of white porcelain. “Buying new clothes always perks up a gal.”
We both heard her at the same time. We turned and looked into the hallway. Felicia came shuffling toward us, wearing one of Andy’s huge bathrobes, knuckling her eyes like a little girl. Every protective instinct a man has ever felt went off inside me. Andy was obviously affected the same way. “Ahhh, lookie there, Jack!”
“I feel terrible,” she said.
“Catching a cold? Flu, maybe? Have some coffee.”
“Coffee sounds awful,” she said. She sat down on a kitchen chair and pulled her feet up under her. “I’m cold,” she said, shivering.
Andy looked puzzled. “Shucks, it ain’t cold in here at all.” He looked at me, worried.
“She’s always cold,” I said.
Felicia’s face was pale and drawn. She refused breakfast, and after a short time excused herself to get ready for the shopping trip that I’d planned for us. Despite the way she felt, she seemed excited, which made me glow all over.
* * *
We spent the morning and most of the afternoon working our way through some quaint little shops. I actually had fun, spending most of the time sitting in a chair in each shop while she modeled one outfit after another. Every time she looked at a price tag, she would protest. Every time, I reminded her that we were spending Varchetta’s money. We shot the whole five thousand bucks, plus another grand of mine, which I didn’t tell her about.
On the way home, I outlined my plan to stay at Andy’s Virginia City cabin for at least several weeks, perhaps even months. She haltingly told me that it would be painful to go back there, but right now that was what she wanted to do more than anything. We agreed that we’d leave the next morning.
When we returned to Andy’s home, Felicia told him that we were leaving the next morning. The old man was visibly saddened by the news. Stricken by Andy’s reaction, Felicia turned and looked at me, pleading in her eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, Andy … on second thought, maybe we’ll stick around a couple more days, if you don’t mind. I think we could both use a little more down time.”
Andy beamed. “Ah hell Jack, that’d be great!”
Tears filled Felicia’s eyes and she quickly turned and walked into the kitchen.
* * *
We actually stayed a week longer than we had planned, just talking and relaxing. Inevitably, the conversation would turn to Jonathan Flynn. At first, we would all sit there, vaguely embarrassed. He had been a very big part of their lives, and while the memory of him was painful, it seemed wrong not to talk about him at all. Eventually, we all came to understand that it was unnecessary to avoid his name.
Chapter 16
On the morning we were to leave, Felicia was sick again. She walked out of the bathroom, weak and pale.
“I think you should see a doctor,” I said.
“No, Jack,” she said. “I’m sure it’s just the after-effects of the last few days.”
Felicia and Andy hugged each other with something akin to desperation. I opened the Jag’s passenger door and helped her inside. Ripper piled in, eliciting a grunt from Felicia. I turned and shook hands with Andy. He just nodded, not trusting his voice. I slapped him on the shoulder, then got into the car and started the engine. We waved our farewells as I pulled away.
It was a crisp, brilliant morning. I drove on, doing far more listening than talking, and delighted to do so. I realized Felicia was excited at the prospect of returning to the cabin where she and Jonathan had shared so many memories. She sat with her arms around a snoozing Ripper and talked and talked and talked. I learned that she had an absolute love for horses and had ridden a lot as a child. I made up my mind to look into buying a horse for her as soon as we got to Virginia City.
She caught me smiling. “What’s so funny?” she said, amusement in her voice. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I!”
“Not at all,” I said truthfully.
It began to snow as we entered the outskirts of Virginia City. The Jag wasn’t suited for this kind of weather. I thought about going back to Lake Tahoe for my Land Rover, but I was sure my A-frame was under surveillance. I decided I’d have studded tires installed on the Jag, instead.
Felicia’s eyes were big and excited as we slowly cruised the length of the historic little town. I followed her directions and turned down a narrow, snow-covered road. A mile or so later, Felicia pointed. “There, Jack!”
The little cabin sat on a point of land overlooking the the valley below. The place wasn’t fancy, but it looked cozy and inviting.
I rolled to a halt at the front door. We got out and stretched. I stood there in the falling snow, breathing the clean mountain air for a few moments, then walked toward the edge of the cliff, Felicia by my side. My hands were in my pockets and my jacket collar was turned up against the wind. Felicia was bundled up in a long coat.
As we looked down on the valley, Felicia said, “Isn’t it just beautiful.”
I looked at her. The wind snapped the collar of her coat hard enough against her face to bring color to her cheeks. “Very beautiful,” I said. “Well, let’s get in out of the cold and see what the place looks like.”
It was quiet inside the cabin. Felicia opened the windows and the breeze immediately cleared the musty smell. I began opening pantry and closet doors. I found a two-pound, unopened tin of coffee, canned goods, blankets, and cleaning supplies—the place was very well stocked. “We’re going to have to go for milk and eggs, and stuff,” I said. “Everything else seems to be here.”
“Yes,” she said. There was a soft sadness in her voice. “We left it in good order.” She looked around, her hands in her pockets.
I was losing her, and I knew it. I clapped my hands together. “Well, c’mon,” I said, wanting to speed things along. “I’m not going to carry everything in here by myself.”
Amusement chased the sadness from her eyes. She knew what I was trying to do. She cooperated, but I knew only too well that she didn’t feel like it.
I’ve always admired “Class.” It’s something you can’t buy, an intangible thing that some people go their entire lives without.
Class. That word summed up this lady in a nutshell. Class, through and through.
I walked outside, Felicia close behind. In mid-stride, the thought suddenly exploded into my mind, as if my heart had taken out a full-page color advertisement for my brain to read. I stopped in my tracks and said softly, “Oh my God … I love her!” Felicia bumped into me from behind, laughing and hanging on to me to keep from falling.
I stood there, my hands on my hips, looking up at the falling snow, stunned at the realization. “Oh that’s just terrific!” I muttered.
“What’s terrific, Jack?” she said.
I ignored her and started unloading the car.
“Jack, what’s so terrific?”
Chapter 17
It didn’t take long to get settled. When we had things stowed away, I said, “Let’s go to town and pick up some groceries.”
She gave me a “No nonsense now!” look. “Jack, who’s paying for all of this?”
It caught me off guard. “Uh, that would be Jilly.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Who else would be paying for it?” I said. It sounded lame, even to me.
“You.”
“Oh. Well, that’s wrong. I’m just the hired help.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. And just like that, I felt like I had blurted out an entire confession. She said she was part witch, and I was beginning to believe her.
* * *
I stood patiently in an aisle of the local market. I leaned on the basket, one foot resting on the lower frame of the cart, watching Felicia as she carefully examined a shelf of canned goods.
As we were checkin
g out, she placed a hand on my arm and said, “I’ll be right back, I’m dying for some lemons.”
“Lemons?” I said, but she had already hurried off. She returned in short order, smiling.
The checker added the lemons to the total. Turning to me he said, “Lemons, huh? Is your wife expecting?”
I smiled and shook my head. “No, I doubt very much if she’s …” I turned to stare at her. “… expecting.”
The checker gave me a strange look. I paid him, my mind not at all on what I was doing.
As I pushed the cart across the snow-covered parking lot, I looked down at her. “Tomorrow, I really would like you to see a doctor.”
She made a wry face. “I’m fine, really!”
“Just once, please do as I ask.”
She hesitated. “I don’t like to go to doctors.”
“Well who likes to go to doctors?” I immediately regretted the tone of my voice.
She hadn’t missed it, either. “I’m sorry, Jack,” she said quickly. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go.”
When we got back to the cabin, I asked her to please, just for me, sit down and relax and let me put the groceries away. She protested, but finally gave in.
She looked tired.
Plucking a lemon out of the bag, she cut it neatly in half and walked out of the little kitchen.
I stood there with a, “Ah-ha! That proves you’re pregnant!” look on my face. But if that were true, whose baby was it?
It sure as hell wasn’t mine.
Varchetta’s? What a disgusting thought! Anyway, she said he hadn’t touched her during that brief period of time that he held her prisoner. It had been two months since Flynn had been killed, and she had left Varchetta several months prior to that.
So it wasn’t Varchetta. At least that was a relief.
“Good God,” I said aloud. For a moment I stood there, not breathing. That only left one person, and he was buried in a little cemetery in Reno, Nevada.
