The House at Rose Creek

by Proctor, Jenny

  She stopped at the end of the driveway and got the mail she’d had forwarded from Atlanta, as well as Aunt Mary’s mail. She sat in the car and shuffled through it all, weeding out the junk mail. One letter in particular from the county commissioners office caught her attention.

  Dear Ms. Walker,

  As we have been unable to reach you regarding the negotiations of the land purchase of your property, 728 Red Dogwood Lane in Harrison County, North Carolina, we hereby send this letter to notify you of the state’s petition to exercise eminent domain in the taking of said property. The hearing regarding such action will be held Friday, June 1, at 7 p.m. at the Harrison County Commissioners Office. Should you wish to file a petition against said action, you must do so by 5 p.m. on the day of the scheduled hearing. If you have any questions regarding this notice, you may contact the county commissioners office at (828) 555-6789 from the hours of 9 a.m.–5 p.m. Monday through Friday.

  Signed,

  Douglas B. Bradley

  Chair, Harrison County

  Board of Commissioners

  Kate reread the letter three times. Over the past week, she had convinced herself the attorney’s concern for the house was based on old information—it was all a miscommunication, a simple mistake. But Mr. Marshall’s concerns had not been ill founded. The letter was dated just two days earlier. The house really was in danger, and Kate had no idea what she needed to do.

  She felt foolish for having ignored the possibility of a problem. She should have called and verified with the state department that her house was no longer an issue in the highway project, but her cousins’ reassurances had lured her into a false sense of security. When she heard nothing from the attorney, she had explained away his silence with the old saying “No news is good news.” But this time, no news was not good news. Kate was angry at herself for having so acutely dropped the ball. Still sitting in her car, she pulled out her cell phone and looked at the date mentioned in the letter. The hearing was three weeks away. She called Mr. Marshall’s office first.

  The receptionist was not moved by Kate’s hasty explanation and demand to speak with the attorney immediately. “I assure you, I will not interrupt him when he is in a meeting,” she said sweetly. “But he will call you back.”

  Kate hung up the phone then dialed the number listed on the letter for the Harrison County Board of Commissioners. By some stroke of luck, she got through to Chairman Douglas Bradley himself.

  “Ms. Sinclair,” a stuffy, annoyingly Southern voice said over the phone. “The letter is legitimate. Numerous properties stretching through that part of town have been in negotiations for quite some time. The state DOT is building a bypass to get over to the university without having to drive straight through the heart of Rose Creek. It really is an excellent plan and will do much for our economy. But the road will infringe on the Walker property. This plan has been in the works for over a year. I daresay I’m surprised this is the first you’ve heard of it.”

  Kate pressed her forehead against the steering wheel, eyes closed in frustration.

  “I told you I just arrived in town last week. Even still, my aunt Mary received notification that her house was no longer in jeopardy. A different route was chosen, and it didn’t involve our house.”

  “Ah, yes. There were many potential routes,” Mr. Bradley said. “We discussed numerous possibilities at a series of town meetings, which, I believe, Ms. Walker attended. She was a vocal participant, if I remember correctly.”

  “She would have been at all of the meetings, Mr. Bradley, which helps prove my point. She would not have settled, would not have relaxed until she knew her home was going to be okay. Why was she told one thing and now we’re being told something different?” Kate tried to maintain her composure. She’d spent the last week falling in love with the old farmhouse all over again. The thought of losing it now made her sick with fear.

  “Ms. Sinclair, any number of things can alter the construction of a highway this size. Perhaps a route was determined and then, for whatever reason, an additional change was made that pulled in your property after all. I assure you, whatever the reason for the change, your aunt would have been notified. You’ll have to contact the DOT directly to verify that with them.”

  Kate shook her head. None of this made any sense. She ended her conversation with the county commissioner and called Sam. She quickly explained the letter and subsequent phone call.

  “Kate, he can’t be telling you the truth. Why wouldn’t any of us know about this?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. I’m hoping the attorney has some answers. I’m waiting for his call right now. What else can I do? The hearing is just three weeks from now. That’s so little time.”

  “Go see Mr. Marshall, Kate,” Sam responded. “Go see him and don’t leave his office until you have some answers.”

  She pulled out of the driveway before she and Sam were even off the phone. She could not lose the house. It killed her to think of so much history and family experience bulldozed for the sake of a bypass. She felt sick just thinking about it. And what of her plans? What of her decision to move back, help Leslie, live in and take care of the old farmhouse? The questions filled her mind as she parked her car in front of Mr. Marshall’s office.

  Don’t be busy, she thought as she entered the dreary waiting room.

  “Well, aren’t you persistent,” the secretary said when Kate insisted she see Mr. Marshall. “He’s handling a real estate closing and won’t be done for another twenty minutes. Since you drove all the way down here, I suppose he can squeeze you in before he leaves for the day. Just have a seat, and I’ll let him know he’s got someone here to see him.”

  “Please tell him it’s urgent,” Kate said, annoyed with the little woman and her syrupy sweetness. She sat on the end of the stuffy, leather sofa and drummed her fingers nervously against her knee. As the minutes ticked by, Kate grew impatient and stepped outside to call Linny, filling her in on the afternoon’s events. Kate glanced back into the attorney’s office and noticed the secretary was away from her desk. She darted back inside, not wanting to miss her opportunity with Mr. Marshall. It was nearly 4:00 when she finally got in to see him.

  “Ms. Sinclair, it’s clear the property is meant to be included in the land purchase. All of my inquiries haven’t given me any reason to think differently. I’m trying to find out why your aunt was given the impression the house was all right if it was still under consideration, but these things take time. Our state government is such a jumbled series of telephone extensions and secretaries and voice mailboxes that one can never just call up and ask a simple question.”

  “But what am I going to do?” Kate asked, annoyed that he seemed so powerless. “They plan to initiate eminent domain! How can they do that when we didn’t even know the house was in danger?”

  “Well, we suspected the house was in danger. What we don’t know is why Mary didn’t know, or if she did, why she didn’t tell anyone.”

  The thought never occurred to Kate that Mary might have known. She wouldn’t have kept it a secret, but what if she had run out of time before she could let anyone else know?

  It felt terribly unfair that the state could simply claim property that a family had owned for generations. Sure, they would buy the property, but Kate couldn’t think of a price high enough that would even begin to compensate for a century of lost family history and experience.

  “How can they just take someone’s house like that?” Kate asked. “How is it legal?”

  “There are a lot of things that are difficult to handle, but that doesn’t make them illegal,” Mr. Marshall responded, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. He stood from his desk, obviously ready for their meeting to end. “It’s been a long day, Ms. Sinclair. Give me more time to make further inquiries. I’ll contact the state transportation department, go over the information with the county commissioners, and do my best to find out if your aunt was sent a notice of any sort regarding her property. I will
call you as soon as I know something. If anything comes up before then, you’ll call me?”

  “What will I do until then . . . just wait?” The idea did not excite Kate. She stood and followed Mr. Marshall to the door.

  “There’s nothing else you can do. As I said before, things like this take time. You will have answers as soon as I have answers, I assure you.”

  “Mr. Marshall, please be honest with me. Is it possible that I may lose this house?”

  He paused in the doorway. “Yes, Ms. Sinclair. It’s a very real possibility, even likely at this point. The most I can hope to do is buy you a bit more time or perhaps, considering the death of your aunt, encourage the state to reopen negotiations allowing you to get a much better price for the property. Your hope basically rests upon the possibility of her not having been appropriately notified. But again, discovering that may only buy us more time. I do not believe it will actually change the fate of the property. I will try, but I don’t expect to accomplish much.”

  Kate nodded and thanked him as they left his office. She returned home, discouraged and emotionally spent. But her spirits lifted a bit when she found a note taped to the front door. It wasn’t signed, but Kate knew who it was from.

  I meant to get your cell number this morning

  but didn’t. Here’s mine . . . will you call me?

  828-555-6464

  Kate was disappointed that she’d missed Andrew but was touched by the simplicity and sweetness of his note. She most definitely would call him, but not until she’d called Sam back to let him know about her visit with the attorney. In the end, Kate talked to Sam and Linny one more time as well as to Leslie and Bryan. No one was happy about the idea of losing the house. The conversations were emotionally draining for all involved. When Kate finally hung up, the situation had been hashed and rehashed, turned upside down and inside out so many times she thought her head might explode if she had to discuss it again. Her ear was hot from the cell phone battery, and she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it was already near 9:00. It was almost enough to make Kate put down the phone and simply call Andrew the following day. Almost.

  He answered his phone after one ring. Kate smiled at the thought of him waiting, anticipating her phone call.

  “Have I not heard enough from you today?” Kate teased after Andrew said hello.

  “Apparently not, since you called me,” Andrew teased back. “How are you?” Just like that, he’d replaced his teasing with genuine concern. Kate wondered how he could make a three-word question sound so sincere.

  “Oh!” Kate groaned. “It’s been a long day. Don’t ask me about it though. I’ve been talking about it for four hours, and that’s already three hours too many.”

  “Oh no,” Andrew said. “I hope everything’s okay.”

  “I think it will be,” Kate said, though she hardly felt certain. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Hey, listen . . . Monday, two weeks from now, my sister is coming into town, passing through on her way home from a conference in Atlanta. I was hoping we could all have dinner. It would be a family thing, really, over at the Spencers’ house.”

  “Is this the sister who’s the history professor?” Kate asked.

  “The very one,” Andrew responded. “I was hoping you could show her the journal. I know she would love to see it.”

  “That sounds great. I’d love to hear what she thinks. So,” she continued, “will it be two weeks, then, before I see you again?”

  “I hope not,” Andrew answered. Kate could hear the smile in his voice. “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow?”

  Chapter 20

  Kate paced back and forth across the worn linoleum in the kitchen, drinking her second cup of coffee. She was drinking decaf on purpose; she hadn’t been sleeping very well and, for once, thought the caffeine might not do her any good. Fear and worry about the house had eaten at her all night for several nights now. Three days had passed since her initial conversation with Mr. Marshall, and yet she still felt no closer to a solution. She’d called the attorney every day, and every day he had told her he was still waiting for answers. Two nights before, over dinner, Kate had told Andrew everything. It had helped to discuss it with someone else, but words alone weren’t getting her any closer to saving the house. Fortunately, their discussion had been the only dark spot in an otherwise blissful evening.

  Kate couldn’t get enough of Andrew’s company. Something had happened that first morning when he’d come so close to kissing her. They had connected on a level far deeper than anything she had ever experienced before. The more she got to know him, the more at ease she felt in his presence. Her only hesitation was his work. He didn’t hide the fact that he was an architect, but clearly, that wasn’t the kind of work he was doing for his uncle at Spencer Contracting. Even when Kate probed for more detail, Andrew tap danced around any conversation that involved his employment history. She could tell there was something he wasn’t telling her. But then, there was plenty she wasn’t telling him either. It was too early, she decided, to stress over any potential skeletons in his closet.

  Kate heard gravel crunching in the driveway and walked to the porch to meet the missionaries, who were just arriving for an appointment. Kate was grateful for the distraction—anything to help pass the time until she heard from Mr. Marshall.

  An attractive woman in her mid- to late fifties accompanied the elders. Something about her seemed familiar, though Kate was fairly certain they hadn’t ever met.

  “Good morning, Kate,” Elder Christianson said. “This is Caroline Spencer. I hope you don’t mind her joining us this morning.”

  “Not at all,” Kate said, smiling, now making the connection. Caroline Spencer looked familiar because she looked just like her daughter Tracy, Kate’s teammate from so many years ago.

  The small party moved into the family room, Caroline choosing a seat right next to Kate.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear, though now that I look at you, I do remember you from Tracy’s team.”

  “How is Tracy?” Kate inquired. “Andrew tells me she has four children now.”

  “Oh, she’s doing just fine,” Caroline answered. “I wish I got to see her more often. Those kids grow up so fast! And yes, she does have four children. Her oldest is seven, and then, believe it or not, she had a set of twins just like I did, except hers are a boy and a girl, and then the baby, who is almost two.”

  Kate smiled. “That’s really wonderful. I hope you’ll tell her I said hello.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Caroline reached over and squeezed Kate’s hand, lifting her shoulders and leaning in as if to tell Kate a secret. “You’re even prettier than Andrew described.”

  Kate blushed at the thought of Andrew describing her to anyone. She wished for a moment that he were here and wondered why he hadn’t volunteered to come. After thinking about it, she decided it might actually be better if he wasn’t around. She couldn’t guarantee that with Andrew in the room she would be truly honest with herself about how she felt about this church exclusive of him. It was true his affiliation with the Church certainly hadn’t hurt her opinion, but Kate knew her faith needed to be based on her own convictions and not just a desire to relate to Andrew.

  “So, Kate, before we do anything else,” Elder Christianson began, “we want to make sure we address any questions you may have. Has anything come up in your reading or in your own personal thoughts that you would like to discuss?”

  Elder Christianson was well over six feet tall and was all arms and legs and skinny awkwardness. When he sat on the old couch in the family room, he sank so low it seemed his knees nearly reached his earlobes. It was a peculiar sight, yet when he learned forward, looking at Kate with such earnest intention, she couldn’t help but be touched by his sincerity. He really did want to help, to share with her something that obviously meant a lot to him.

  “I want to know why you’re here and why you are serving a mission,” Kate said, loo
king at Elder Christianson and then Elder Peterson. “What does this mean to you . . . to be here, to be away from your family and your life for two years—why do you do it?”

  Elder Christianson answered first. “Returned missionaries get the best chicks.” He grinned.

  Kate rolled her eyes. “So that’s what it’s all about, huh?” She laughed, and Elder Christianson’s companion punched him lightly on the arm.

  “Your mission may be the only thing that saves you,” Elder Peterson joked. “What girl would want you otherwise?”

  The laughter continued until Sister Spencer looked at the young elders with eyebrows raised, calling their attention back to Kate and her question.

  Elder Christianson held his hands up in apology. “I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I can be serious now. I’m here because I know this gospel to be true,” he continued. “I’ve studied and prayed and asked the Lord for confirmation, and He’s mercifully given it to me. I cannot deny it, so I go and do whatever it is He asks of me.” He looked at Elder Peterson.

  “What my Savior did for me when He died on the cross, when He suffered in the Garden, I can’t ever repay. What’s two years of my life dedicated to the Lord’s service when the Lord gave His entire life for me? And the message of the gospel, it changes people’s lives. It uplifts, it enriches, it redeems. Why would I ever want to keep such a gift to myself? It’s much more rewarding to share it.” Elder Peterson leaned back on the sofa and looked at Kate. “What’s next?”

  She laughed. “It just strikes me as unusual to see such dedication from young men. The last time I spent any time with nineteen- and twenty-year-old boys, I was at a frat house in college and they were all drunk and ridiculously juvenile. You are both so refreshing.”

  “We have our moments,” Elder Peterson responded, casting a furtive look at Elder Christianson, “but we try pretty hard not to embarrass ourselves.”

  “My cousin made a comment to me after you left on Saturday morning,” Kate said. “She said that Mormons aren’t ‘normal’ people. If not normal, what are Mormons actually like?” Kate wanted to understand the lifestyle and culture of a religion that nurtured such dedication and commitment as demonstrated by these two young men and, from what she had observed, by Andrew as well.